By Halina Nelken
While Germany invaded Poland in 1939, Halina Nelken used to be a precocious youngster, dwelling a middle-class lifestyles in Krakow. Like different women her age, she recorded her own observations and emotions in a diary. As stipulations in Krakow deteriorated and her relatives used to be pressured into the Jewish ghetto, she persisted to put in writing, finally smuggling her diary out with a Catholic buddy. This amazing e-book tells the tale of Nelken's stories within the ghetto and later in 8 Nazi focus camps, together with Plaszow, Auschwitz, and Ravensbruck. Her diary entries, written among 1938 and 1943, shape the middle of the quantity and are supplemented through memories written almost immediately after the conflict and via later commentaries and explanatory notes which she additional within the mid-1980s. even supposing there exist various released and unpublished memoirs via Holocaust survivors, Nelken's ebook provides one of many few extant diaries written on the time.
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Additional resources for And yet, I am here!
But then, in Kraków, in addition to my toys, Felek's armies of tin soldiers marched across the carpet, attacking my fortresses of cards or dominoes defended by chess pieces. Our favorite tent was under the round table covered with a fringed Turkish throw. When cousins or friends came to visit, we built a second tent out of overturned armchairs covered by another Oriental throw taken from the piano. Such games did not last long; soon all the mothers, or our nanny, Józkaand she the most effectivelyreturned order to the room.
Of the whole family only his mother survived, and after the war I gave her a photograph of Runka cut out of a group picture of our elementary school class. Next came Jadowski's, the large grocery and spice store. Grandma liked to choose coffee and tea here rather than riding to Szarski's in the Rynek Glowny *, as my mother did. Marian Jadowski was also a schoolmate of Felek's. The wares in the grocery store were not interesting, but the ones in the next shop were worth admiringfluffy woolens, shiny silks, a mannequin in gold lamé at Mardi gras time, velvets, laces, brocades.
I was afraid of this dark and formidable sculpture. One night, the light from the other room woke me and I suddenly imagined that Moses was about to hurl those tablets at me. I jumped out of bed screaming. My parents came running. Shaken, I cried hysterically, clutching my mother tightly and glancing furtively at the frightening figure. Following my glance, Mama guessed: "That is what has scared the child! " With the sculpture in his upturned arm, his shadow, a giant shadow stretching from floor to ceiling, scared me even more.