Taavi could still remember his mother. After the miscarriage, as the years had passed, Taavi’s mother got worse. She would rage, and strike Taavi, or strike out at his father. Her behavior became dangerously unpredictable. When Taavi was eight years old, his father took him as an apprentice. He was young to learn carpentry. But his father decided it was best for Taavi for two reasons: one because he enjoyed his son’s company, but also because he wanted to keep the boy away from his mother. However, being alone in the small cottage didn’t help his mother’s condition; in fact it only worsened. One evening Taavi and his father came home from work to find that she’d destroyed all of their clothing. Another time she had severely burned both of her arms, crying out that she’d done so to drive the devil out of her. The burns blistered and the blisters turned red and oozed pus. Taavi’s father had gently cleaned the open wounds and covered them with bandages. He told Taavi that he feared they would become infected, but they didn’t. If they had, she would have died. And, perhaps it would have been best. However, she healed.
When Taavi was fourteen, he was already a full and capable carpenter. His father had taught him well, and he’d become even better at the trade than his father. Taavi was an artist; his work was quickly becoming known throughout the village. His relationship with his father was close, but his mother was like a strange animal to him.
One evening when father and son returned from work, his mother was in the kitchen. Her eyes were wild with madness as she cried out, pointing at Taavi, “I know who you are, you are a dybbuk,” and came at him with a large kitchen knife. Sweat trickled down his forehead. How was he ever going to take the knife away from her? With wild, uncombed hair and darting eyes she came at him. The knife in her hand caught his arm and he felt the blade slice through his flesh. He backed up, terrified as the blood spilled on the floor. Just then, his father walked in and saw the situation. There was little time . His father charged his mother, who was very strong when she was under the control of her disease. She cut him across the cheek. His father grabbed for the knife. Things happened so fast. Taavi knew his father never meant to hurt her. He was only trying to take the knife away but somehow it ended up piercing his mother’s neck. She gasped, choking on blood as Taavi’s father ran to find help. But when the doctor arrived it was too late.
Taavi’s father could not speak. There was no doubt in Taavi’s mind that his father had loved his mother. For three days, Taavi’s father did not leave his bedroom. Taavi asked through the door if he could get him anything. But his father always said no. If they were to keep their clientele, the business must remain open. So, Taavi went in to work to complete their jobs, and when he returned home on the fourth night and asked his father if he could get him anything, his father came out of the room. He looked like he’d aged twenty years. He was never the same and only lived a few months more before he passed away. When Taavi’s father died, Taavi was heavy with grief. He would miss his father greatly. However, although he was still just a boy, Taavi was self-sufficient. He kept the business open and managed the house by himself. All was well for many years until he’d fallen head over heels so deeply in love with Michal that he couldn’t see straight. The first time he saw her, Taavi was looking out the window of his shop and she was walking down the street doing her shopping. Michal was on her way to one of the other stores. Their eyes had met, and for the first time Taavi understood how love could obsess a person. He thought about Michal day and night. Watched for her through the window of his shop. When he saw her he felt electrified. Then, as was the custom, her parents chose a husband for her, and she’d married Avram. The whole village knew about the wedding. So of course, his customers told him the gossip. Taavi was heartbroken. At that point in time, he resigned himself that he would spend his life alone. But then an unexpected turn of events had brought him the woman of his heart. It had been a tragedy for the village, but a Godsend for Taavi. Early one winter morning, the Cossacks had come. They were wild men on horseback galloping through the small Jewish settlement. They attacked the little village, raping, pillaging, and killing so many of the Jews. During the assault, Avram, Michal’s husband, had been murdered. Taavi saw it happen. He would have helped Avram, even though he had never stopped loving Michal. But it all happened so fast that all he could do was grab Michal’s arm and pull her along with him until they were deep into the forest. They stayed there for a while with an old wise woman, and his love for Michal grew. Finally she agreed to become his wife. He’d been euphoric. But because of all she’d been through, their marriage had been hard. Taavi didn’t know how to communicate with women. He had very little experience, and his mother had not given him much of a role model. It took him time. In the beginning he was young and prideful, clumsy and awkward. So, he and Michal had their problems, but after numerous fights, a painful separation and a great deal of suffering, they had found their way back to each other. And for several years, after they reunited, their lives had been joyous. The happiest of days for Taavi. He worked hard, and his business flourished. He had his wonderful wife and two beautiful daughters. Then came the terrible night of the broken glass, and everything changed when the Nazis had taken him prisoner.
Because Taavi had never had a real family before he’d married Michal and they’d had their two girls, he treasured his family even more than he could have ever dreamed he would. Now, stuck in this Nazi concentration camp all he could think about was his wife and children. They needed him. That was why he’d called on Frieda. He’d worked for her as the bartender in her cabaret before the rise of the Third Reich. During that time, he and Michal were having problems and they’d been separated. Those were the years of Taavi’s life when he’d lost all sense of morals and lived an existence of pure debauchery. Frieda had seduced him and the two became lovers. Once the bar closed he and Frieda spent hours experimenting in all aspects of depravity from sexual perversity to drugs. When Taavi thought back on his years with Frieda, he forgave his wild explorations by telling himself it was just a sign of the times. And it was. Weimar Berlin was exploding in every way, the arts and sciences had flourished, but so had sexual exploration, drugs, and excessive use of alcohol, and Taavi had been swept up into it like so many others. Frieda’s cabaret was a hot spot, and it gave her access to friendships with all sorts of people. Before the war, their regulars had consisted of the artists, scientists, writers, and leaders of all different political factions.
But since the Nazis came into power, Taavi assumed that the people who patronized the club were different. Now, he thought the club was probably a popular hangout for the upper echelon of the Nazi Party. Because of the club, Taavi thought that she probably still had influential friends, and if she could find it in her heart to forgive him, she might have the power to help him. The question was not if she could but if she would. He’d walked out the door, leaving her angry and rejected. Now, she was his only hope. Taavi took a deep breath. What could he do? He’d made the proposal to Braus. It was in God’s hands now. Several weeks had passed since he’d made the proposition, and so far he’d heard nothing. He couldn’t even be sure that Braus had sent word to Frieda, but he was counting on Braus’s greed. If Frieda came through, he had promised Braus that she would reward him generously. He hoped he was right because if he wasn’t, Taavi had no doubt in his mind that Braus would kill him. Dear God, he thought. I have sinned many times. But for the sake of my wife and children, I am begging for your forgiveness.
More time passed and still Braus did not send for Taavi. Most days when Taavi returned hot and exhausted from the brickworks, he would see Braus sitting in his office. Sometimes Braus would look out the window and their eyes would meet. Then Braus’s face would slowly descend into a sinister smile and Taavi would feel a terrible tingling like tiny spiders were crawling up the back of his neck.
One afternoon while the prisoners were out on work duty, Fredrick had whispered something to one of the other prisoners. A guard saw him and felt he was talking instead of working
. Then as punishment the guard beat Fredrick severely The beating was so bad this time that Taavi was afraid his friend would die. Fredrick could hardly stand. Even though Taavi had worked hard for sixteen hours that day, he had little appetite. The possible loss of his only friend weighed on him. He could bear the hard work and the lack of food, but he was devastated by the very idea that he had no power to help Fredrick. None.
The men lined up for their dinner. Taavi followed the rest of the men into the food line. He received his ladle of what passed for soup and the moldy hunk of bread and sat down to eat. His head ached from the strenuous work in the scorching sun without enough water to drink. Now he drank the soup quickly, not paying much attention to the insects that floated alongside the quarter of soggy potato. Poor Fredrick. He was young ... such an idealist. Taavi had once been young and believed that he could change the world singlehandedly. He’d not been political, but he believed that by working hard he could build a decent life for his family. Now he realized that being a Jew, his chances of overcoming the dangers of anti-Semitism and living a comfortable life were nearly impossible. After all, he’d been a fairly successful businessman. It had taken him years of saving and then hard work to build that carpentry shop. However, when the Nazis decided to wage their pogrom on his people, they destroyed his entire world in one night. And even though he’d been a respected member of society, at the end of the day, they would always see him, as just another Jew. They broke him down, beat him, and threw him in this dreadful hell hole. They had no respect for him as a contributing citizen of Berlin. To them, like to the Cossacks, and the White Russians that he’d lived amongst in his youth, Taavi was nothing but a Jew. And Jews had no rights. Taavi knew that Jews would always be second class citizens; no matter what, they were always at the mercy of the rest of the world.
Even though Taavi was worried about Fredrick, he was so exhausted that as soon as he lay down that night he fell asleep instantly. The work was so strenuous that as soon as he relaxed he could not stay awake even if he wanted to.
In the middle of the night someone pulled on his foot. Taavi opened his eyes. It was Braus.
“Come with me,” Braus whispered.
Taavi got up and followed.
Chapter 15
Michal
Michal did as she was told, but a vacant look was in her eyes as if a part of her was not there anymore. There was a constant lump in her throat and she began to believe that she would never see her family again. The guards at Ravensbruck were women, but they were relentless in their brutality. To the non-Jewish prisoners they were harsh and mean, but to the Jews they were evil spirits who walked the earth. Michal was no stranger to anti-Semitism, but she had a hard time believing that women could be so hard and uncaring to other women. Some of the guards were mothers. How could a mother, who had borne a child and known the love that only a mother can feel, be so heartless? The female prisoners were tortured sometimes just to the point of death. Other times they were brutally murdered outright. At one point, Michal had a glimmer of hope. Two of the Jewish prisoners were released. But then the following day as Michal was standing in roll call, she witnessed a guard murder a young girl who had been unable to make her bed to the standards that had been set at Ravensbruck.
Michal was no stranger to horror. She’d witnessed the brutality in the Cossacks and the Nazis, but they were men. Women had the gift from God to bear children, and Michal had always believed that having that gift made them kinder, more sensitive. That was before she met the guards at Ravensbruck. Most of these women were heartless; they could easily overlook the pain and suffering of others. In fact, Michal believed that some of them even enjoyed the power. It made her sick to see women act like beasts. The guards lived in quarters away from the camp. Michal had not been there, but some of the other prisoners had been sent to the guards house to do the cleaning, and they returned telling the others that the guards lived in lovely surroundings. The prisoners who’d worked at the guards living quarters said that when the guards were at home away from the camp, the women were just like other women. They discussed the men in their lives, husbands, boyfriends, dates, talked of fashion, shared recipes. Yet as soon as these same women walked through the gates of Ravensbruck they turned into monsters. It was unfathomable.
There was always discussion of ways and plans for escape between the prisoners. They would whisper about plans as they lay on their bunks in their block at night. But the truth was that the camp was surrounded by barbed wire. Escape was nearly impossible.
The guards found a new pastime that winter. For their entertainment, they sent some of the women outside and then sprayed the poor souls with water. The women were underdressed as it was, and the water froze the thin uniforms to their shivering bodies. From the warmth of the building, the guards watched as the women froze to death.
And at night there was no heat where the prisoners slept. The only warmth the women found was from curling up together against the cold.
Some of the women were not strong enough to endure the physical labor that the guards demanded of them daily. Those women were shot immediately. The Jews worked seven days every week. Other prisoners had Sundays off, but not Michal. It was a brutal winter that year and all she had were open clogs for shoes. Every night her feet bled from the exposure to the harsh elements, and she lost two toes from frostbite.
Food was scarce. Sometimes prisoners, driven by the madness of hunger, would try to steal a bit of bread. If they were caught, they were tortured and made an example of for the rest of the prisoners lest anyone think they could get away with such a crime. Most days the women only received a hunk of bread and water in the morning, but occasionally on very good days, they got a bowl of watery soup after they finished work.
Michal began to feel weak and defeated. Between the hunger, the cold, the beatings, and the hard work, she lost her will to live and began to pray for death. Then one afternoon a rain fell that turned to ice as it hit the ground. Michal was attempting to shovel sand off of a prisoner who had been buried during a cruel game one of the guards was playing to entertain herself. Michal was a small, slender woman and it was difficult for her to move the sand. She was almost in tears from the effort when a woman she had never noticed before came to help her. Her name, she said, was Heida. She was a tall, strong woman with an athletic build that had thinned out from lack of food. Still her height gave her an arresting appearance. If someone else would have come to help Michal dig the prisoner out, the helper probably would have been punished. But Heida’s height and confidence seemed to intimidate the guard, and for now, the guard left her alone.
“Let me help you.” Heida smiled. She grabbed a shovel and what had been nearly impossible for Michal seemed easy for Heida. She moved the shovel quickly so as to reach the prisoner before the poor woman suffocated. When the prisoner’s head was unburied, the poor woman began coughing fiercely. It was such a haggard cough that Michal thought it sounded like the sand had gotten into her lungs.
Another guard, a woman as tall as Heida but much heavier, walked over from the other side of the yard. She was carrying a club, which she used to smack Heida on the shoulder.
“Come on, get back to work.”
Michal heard the loud thud that the club had made when it found its mark on Heida’s body, and she cringed at the pain that must have caused, but Heida just smiled and winked at Michal. Then she turned and went back to the other side of the yard to her own work. It looked to Michal like Heida was mocking the guard. Michal was astonished at Heida’s fearlessness. And when Michal glanced at the guard’s face, she saw a hint of admiration.
Michal was amazed. She was sure from the crack the club had made that the guard had broken a bone, but Heida seemed to be fine. How was that possible? Michal decided that Heida was probably in pain, but she wouldn’t give the guard the satisfaction of knowing that she’d injured her.
Heida wore a pink triangle on the arm of her uniform, and from that Michal knew Heida was a lesbi
an. She didn’t want to lead Heida on. So she decided that she would tell Heida right away that she was a mother with a husband somewhere outside of this pit in Hell.
Later that night Michal found Heida.
“Thank you for helping me today.”
Heida nodded.
“How is your shoulder?”
“It hurts.”
“Do you think any bones are broken?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That was very brave of you.”
“Brave? We all have to help each other otherwise none of us will survive this. You want to know who’s brave? Look at that young blond girl over there. She can’t be more than four foot eleven and I’d say she weighs about eighty pounds. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, I think you’re right.” Michal looked at the girl. She’d grown accustomed to looking at the felt patch on the arms of the other women so that she knew if they were Jewish or had been accused of some other imaginary crime. This one’s patch was light purple.
“She’s a Jehovah’s Witness,” Heida said as if she’d read Michal’s mind. “That’s another religion that Hitler has decided to persecute, but not nearly as badly as the Jews. It’s amazing just how much hate these Nazis can have, huh? Have you seen how they treat the Polish women? What amazes me is some of the guards are such young girls, where did they find the anger inside of them to be so heartless? It boggles the mind. No? But never mind about them. Anyway, back to what I was telling you about that little girl over there, the Jehovah’s Witness. She’s so young and delicate. Well, she is just barely a woman, but she has the courage of ten men. You know what I saw?”
“What?”
“One of the guards told her that if she would denounce her religion and accept Hitler as God, she would be released from this pit.”
A Family Shattered: Book Two in the Michal's Destiny Series Page 8
