Kingdom of Twilight

by Steven Uhly

38

  Anna’s wedding day was also the day of her departure. The whole of Rykestrasse 57, more than three hundred people, had assembled a few houses further down the street, in front of the dilapidated synagogue at Rykestrasse 53, an elongated brick structure. Many of the four hundred homeless Jews accommodated in the building at the front of the synagogue, who for months had been bored with the lack of progress, came outside to watch the ceremony even though the November cold seeped into their bodies, the day was gray and overcast, and an icy wind swept through the streets.

  Peretz’s men from Bricha, as well as a few British and American soldiers, had turned up in full dress uniform. He introduced Anna to one of the Americans, who was holding a battered leather violin case. This is Izzy, he said, he’s German like you, but I’m very proud that he’s playing the music today. Peretz grinned as if he had cracked a joke and Izzy smiled politely.

  Because of Peretz, the chairman of the Jewish Community had come too, a slender man called Nehlhans with a hat and round glasses, along with some other community members, as well as their hosts, the Gutfelds. This added up to an impressive gathering, come to witness the marriage of Anna Stirnweiss and Peretz Sarfati.

  The rabbi’s name was Martin Riesenburger, a powerfully built man around fifty years of age, with large, square, horn-rimmed glasses on his nose.

  In the synagogue was a traditional bridal dress, which the rabbi would have happily lent to Anna, but her belly ruled this out. Instead Peretz had got hold of a curtain on the black market and, together with other women from Rykestrasse 57, Ruth had done her best to tailor a dress from it. On her head Anna wore a veil, which was still folded back.

  Anna observed herself from two angles. She saw the Anna who until 1933 was not even aware that she was Jewish, and was now about to have an Orthodox wedding. She would be veiled and sit on a chair, beside her would stand two men, holding an outstretched cloth over her head, Peretz would be led in by two men, the rabbi would utter his ritual texts and all the while Izzy on his violin would provide the wedding atmosphere in the background.

  Anna was unsure what to make of this, she felt like someone in the middle of a river, having swum from the bank, while on the other side a different Anna marries a different Peretz. This is the beginning of a journey, the old man beside Ruth had said when he learned of the forthcoming nuptials, but Anna had been on journeys for so long now. A journey within a journey within a journey, a Russian doll of journeys, the largest, outer layer representing birth to death, the smaller ones from childhood to adulthood, from German to Jew, from whore to wife and back again, from the Anna she was to the Anna she would very soon become.

  Anna sighed, she would marry to become happy, even though she knew that for this to work it must be the other way round. She was both blind and sighted as she headed into a dead end, she was terrified, and in the next breath thought, What difference does it make? Ultimately, at the end of all these journeys I’m dead. She thought of her child and decided to think other thoughts.

  The second angle was different. From here she saw the Anna who was marrying one man while thinking of another. Is Abba Kovner coming too? she asked Peretz, just before Izzy unpacked his violin, just before Martin Riesenburger commenced the ceremony. Peretz’s expression darkened, he lowered his voice and said, “Abba’s in prison in Egypt.”

  Anna stared at Peretz, she had forgotten that he knew nothing of their encounter.

  “Forget Abba,” Peretz said with a dismissive gesture. “He has nothing to do with Bricha anymore. He’s playing at Nakam now—revenge—the British caught him with a cargo of toxic waste drums on a boat to Europe, he was planning to use them to kill Germans, exactly the same number as Jews killed by Nazis. Just imagine!” He shook his head. “I’d never have thought that he’d actually turn his words into deeds. Thank God it didn’t work. Word has it that the British got a tip-off from Palestine. Maybe even from the Haganah people.” He shrugged his shoulders and made a face that said, I’ve no idea and I don’t care either.

  “So how long’s he going to be in prison?” Anna asked with concern. But before Peretz could reply, Izzy launched into Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy’s wedding march, the rabbi lowered the veil over her eyes, two men who were strangers to Anna laughed as they pulled Peretz forward, someone pushed her gently but firmly down onto the chair, the crowd fell silent, and only the cold wind refused to let up, and only the flow of homeless people looking for food, of refugees looking for shelter, of military vehicles patrolling the streets of the destroyed city, of Jews secretly arriving in the overcrowded city from Poland, the flow of the river across which Anna swam and swam, always in the middle, always toward the other side, it never let up.

  When Peretz placed the ring on her finger and said, Behold, you are consecrated to me with this ring according to the law of Moses and Israel, the flow became a torrent, whisking her away and dragging her under water until she drowned.

  When the rabbi read

  on the fifth day of the week,

  the first day of the month Kislev

  in the year five thousand seven hundred and six

  since the creation of the world,

  according to the reckoning

  which we are accustomed to use here in the city of Berlin,

  this was the day of Anna’s death and so began her rebirth as a drowned woman, under water, on the bed of the river that was perhaps her life, through silt and gravel, against the pressure of the water trying to force its way down into the valley, constantly into the valley; Anna, the dead woman, crossed to the other side to see what would have been there had she still been alive, put her head above the water, a head full of algae obstructing her view like a green veil made out of life.

  When the rabbi continued,

  Peretz Sarfati,

  son of Avraham Sarfati,

  said to this woman

  —he faltered almost imperceptibly, for he should have said “maiden” here, but that would have subverted the gravitas of the ceremony, and seeing as he was reading this marriage contract in German, from left to right, so that the bride could understand him, rather than in Aramaic, as prescribed by custom, he could be consistent. The times demanded it, God would show mercy, he hoped, and continued,

  Anna Stirnweiss,

  daughter of Joseph Stirnweiss:

  Be my wife according to the law of Moses and Israel

  and I will cherish, honor,

  support and maintain you,

  in accordance with the custom of Jewish husbands,

  who cherish,

  honor,

  support

  and maintain their wives faithfully.

  And here I present you

  with the marriage gift of women

  —and he faltered for a split second, for he should have said “maidens” here, it was as it was, onward . . .

  two hundred silver zuzim,

  which is due to you according to the Torah,

  and I will also give you food,

  clothing and necessities,

  and live with you as husband and wife,

  according to universal custom,

  and Anna’s breathing faltered almost imperceptibly, and she took another gulp of air into her dead lungs and felt the life inside her as if it were someone else, and decided she would be reborn without forgetting a single thing.

  As the rabbi read on,

  And she, this woman,

  consented and became

  his wife.

  The dowry that she brought to him

  from her father’s house,

  in silver,

  gold,

  valuables,

  clothing,

  furniture

  and bedclothes,

  all this the bridegroom accepted

  in the sum of one hundred silver pieces,

  here Rabbi Martin Riesenburger looked up, smiling to everyone and nobody, and said, Or maybe not, it’s irrelevant, and continued reading

  And Peretz,<
br />
  the bridegroom,

  consented

  to increase this amount from his own property

  with the sum of one hundred silver pieces,

  making in all two hundred silver pieces, or,

  and the rabbi looked up again and said, Or he puts it all in if the bride has nothing, but this time he refrained from smiling as he meant it seriously, and continued

  And thus said Peretz the bridegroom:

  The responsibility for this marriage contract,

  for this dowry,

  and for this additional sum,

  I take upon myself

  and my heirs after me,

  so that they shall be paid

  from the best part of my property and possessions

  that I have beneath the whole heaven,

  that which I now possess

  or may hereafter acquire.

  All my property,

  real and personal,

  even the shirt from my back,

  shall be mortgaged to secure

  the payment of this wedding contract,

  of the dowry

  and of the addition made to it,

  during my lifetime and after

  my death,

  from the present day

  and in eternity.

  He paused and looked at the assembled crowd to underline the huge importance of eternity in these times of constant change, but now Anna climbed out of the water, wearing a white dress made from a curtain, which veiled her body, her body that no longer belonged to her, but to the child of a murderer who she was forced to love, and she went to the chair that stood there in the middle of a crowd of dead people pretending to be alive, and all of a sudden no longer felt alone, The whole world is constantly dying for all eternity, she thought, All those who come into this world fall into the river, drown, crawl along the bottom to the other side, their lungs full of water, their spirits full of light, their hearts full of fear and hope, what space is there left for loving a stranger? And she gazed through her veil at Peretz Sarfati, who was standing before her, to the left and right his witnesses, two even stranger strangers, and another stranger was playing the violin and the rabbi was saying something about

  responsibility for this marriage contract,

  for the dowry and the addition made to it,

  according to the restrictive usages

  of all marriage contracts

  and the additions to them made

  for the daughters of Israel,

  according to the instructions of our sages

  of blessed memory.

  It is not to be regarded as an

  indecisive contractual obligation

  or as a mere formula of a document.

  All this was accepted by the groom,

  Peretz Sarfati, son

  of Avraham Sarfati,

  to Anna Stirnweiss, daughter

  of Joseph Stirnweiss,

  regarding everything written and stated above.

  And everything is valid and confirmed.

  After that he announced the two witnesses whose names Anna did not know, after that he gave Peretz the marriage contract, after that Peretz gave Anna the marriage contract, and after that they were husband and wife.

  At once the music changed, Izzy, the stranger, played a jolly tune, a dance, the rabbi smiled affectionately, Peretz beamed proudly, pulling Anna to her feet and forcing her to dance, and Anna danced until the water came out of her lungs, until sweat covered her body, until life returned to her immortal soul, until the child in her belly was able to sing a song of this strange wedding in a ruined city in a ruined land in a ruined maiden, who was attempting a balancing act between life and death, between truth and lies, between love and numbness, between madness and enlightenment.

  Now the crowd came to life, couples found each other, legs started moving, hearts beat to the rhythm of Izzy’s violin, which he was playing at a giddying tempo as he danced; the rabbi, who had survived in Berlin’s Jewish cemetery, danced; the chairman of the Jewish Community, who had survived in Berlin cupboards and cellars, danced; the many men and women, who had survived in the Nazis’ concentration camps, danced; the wind made dance the last leaves from the trees that had survived the bombs; the military vehicles, the homeless, the entire continent danced on the molten fire deep in the core of the earth, which itself danced around the sun like a moth around a light, will I fall in, will I not fall in? everything danced the dance of death of the living, the dance of life of the dead, until all eternity, until late in the night, until the height of happiness of the moment, until the total exhaustion of all those who had been shattered already and were still standing, still marching on toward death, Ruth danced with little Ariel, who now had both his arms around his Magellan book, how smart of him, one should always have a circumnavigator to hand, no doubt the Portuguese explorer danced as he sailed the high seas, no doubt he danced as he was stabbed to death by Mactan natives, no doubt he danced as, deep down on the ocean floor, he followed the last ship still afloat, afloat for three years until it arrived back home, no doubt Magellan had danced, dying with happiness at his historical triumph over earth’s vast expanses, over the petty narrow-mindedness of those who had not believed in him, Marja-with-the-dolly danced with the old man, a miracle that he could dance at all (Thank you, Dana, for having rekindled his long life) seeing as he had been unable to speak or walk, how long ago was that now? not more than a few months, but that was an eternity in these times of constant flux and yet here they were, still sitting tight in the land of mass murderers, still they had not escaped them, the dead S.S. men danced, Otto Deckert danced in his grave because one of them was living his life now, and so he was simultaneously dead and alive, something only Anna was capable of, only those who asked themselves if this was a man enduring such suffering, only those who understood what the black milk of daybreak was, only those who, rather than disparage the poet’s recitative, understood that one day, in ten years’ time, Otto Deckert would dance in a train to Munich, led there by his old contacts; Mrs. Abramowicz did not dance. She sat on the second floor of Rykestrasse 57, not speaking, staring at the wall, at wherever her dead child still lay dying, at wherever the love that had to be was looking for a target which had vanished just like that, vanished for all eternity. Mrs. Abramowicz’s ears could hear the excitement and Izzy’s fiddling, her thoughts told her sensible things, her body implied that it would get up if it were only given the order. Mrs. Abramowicz thought about her children, Ariel clutching the circumnavigator, Marja clutching the doll that since Dana’s death had been called Dana to the silent horror of all the adults, who furtively looked away whenever Marja said “Dana” and chatted to her. Mrs. Abramowicz was pining for her children, she yearned to be a mother again, she felt profound gratitude toward Ruth and the old man and Anna and the others who had been looking after the two of them since she had taken to just sitting there and staring, especially toward the old man, who had broken his silence for her sake, who for her sake had stopped lying there, intent on dying. But, Mrs. Abramowicz’s brain thought too, surely someone had to take his place, someone had to occupy that empty space, why me, why did it have to be Dana making the decision that it was me, why did it have to be God making the decision that it had to be Dana so that it had to be me, why? Why? Pointless questions, Mrs. Abramowicz’s brain thought, Pointless, pointless, for there is no God holding his hand protectively over you and your children, you’ve been mistaken, all this time you’ve been completely alone in the world, ever since your husband left, where is he, this husband? If only he had survived and come back! You could get up and go looking for him, the others will help you. Ruth will help, you heard what she said to Anna, didn’t you? and Anna will help, you heard. But then, Mrs. Abramowicz’s brain thought, you won’t find anything, the Germans killed them all, they spared nothing and nobody, not the women, not the children. In the end God is a German Nazi who, with no weapons left with which to harm you, was determined at lea
st to take away your Dana before the soldiers could clear away the rubble. God does exist, ultimately, but he is the enemy of all Jews, and for three thousand years the Jews have been trying in vain to make friends with him. Look how quickly he made friends with the Christians and the Muslims, look how he herds us with the help of these people since they started believing in him. But why Dana? Why Dana? Why Dana? A tear broke free from her right eye, followed by another from her left. For some time now Mrs. Abramowicz’s eyes had been hinting that they would like to gaze at something other than the wall, perhaps they would peer out of the window if she would only issue the order. But Mrs. Abramowicz just sat there, staring, helplessly listening to her thoughts, helplessly feeling her emotions and searching for a way out, outside, but she was locked up as in a camp, and there was not even an electric fence to offer release.

  One week after the wedding, on November 9, 1945, Shimon Sarfati came into the world. He was born in the first prefabricated house on earth. His mother suffered as only the living can suffer, she was in agony for the sixteen hours of his birth, a Jewish doctor, a Holocaust survivor, was present, three nurses, Holocaust survivors, were present, Peretz Sarfati was absent, he was driving with Bricha lorries along the northern route to Szczecin, he became a father without being a father, he had sworn that Anna’s dowry should be two children by him, he gave invitations to fifty Polish Jews while Anna’s screams were more blood-curdling than during any of her rapes.

  When Shimon finally arrived where perhaps he had never wished to go, out of the water and into the air, he was more dead than alive. He extended no welcome to the world, Anna sensed this immediately. He did not search for her breast, he was exhausted, he would rather die than drink, it seemed, but he must not. After an hour, spurred on by the doctor and nurses, Anna finally coaxed her son to drink and live.

  39

  The first prefabricated house on earth was a Swedish pavilion that looked like a large villa. Bricha had rented it from a wealthy Jew for a token sum, soon the pavilion would become yet another transit camp for Jews from Poland, for they kept coming, Berlin, this barrel with its bottom knocked out, was teeming with German refugees and Polish Jews, often using the same route, not infrequently passing themselves off as each other in order to get through, and not infrequently encountering each other on their flight. But this camp would be for Jews alone, it would be run by Jews and if it had only two bathrooms, well, that was better than one. Soon it would be as congested here as at Aaron Strauss’s house at Oranienburgerstrasse 31, or at the Rykestrasse synagogue, or at Rykestrasse 57, or in any of the many other overcrowded camps dotted all over Berlin. But now, not long after the signing of the rental contract, Anna and Shimon and the doctor and the nurses were the only people who could look out at the Greater Wannsee and reflect on the fact that, six hundred and fifty meters to the north, on the same shore, stood the house in which the Wannsee Conference had taken place, and where a few years earlier eight doctors and six ordinary people had come to the decision, All Jews must die.