The Puppet Boy of Warsaw (12 page)

Later that day Kalim asked me to approach his bed.

‘That was fun, Kalim! You play so well.’ I smiled at him. Kalim ignored what I said and looked me straight in the eye.

‘How do I know there is something else after we die?’

His question caught me off guard. ‘I guess we don’t really know for sure, but we believe. We hope. We pray. Although I don’t pray much, I must admit.’

‘I’m scared, Mika!’

‘I know.’ What could I say?

‘You and Ellie are like strange angels, showing up here when no one else bothers to come except the nurses. I always feel better when you’re here.’

‘I’m not sure about the angel bit, but it reminds me of a verse in the Talmud I like:
“Every blade of grass has an angel that bends down and whispers: Grow, grow!”
We all need each other, Kalim, we all need hope. I love coming here to see you.’

‘To this place?’

He tried to sit up but stopped halfway. I could see the exhaustion in his face.

‘Yes, because all of you are so brave. I never hear you complain about anything. If I were lying here I’d like someone to entertain me.’

Kalim looked at me. I could see the fever in his eyes, his cheeks burning red.

‘I wish I could grow up and play one of those large violas.’ He stretched out his left hand and put an imaginary instrument on his shoulder, then drew an invisible bow over the strings.

For a moment he seemed lost in music only he could hear.

‘And I would love to hear you. I think you should rest now, Kalim, it’s been a long afternoon. We’ll be back soon.’

‘Will you bring your violin again?’

‘Of course.’

Kalim smiled. His eyes were like two dark moons against his pale skin, and his hand lay hot and dry in mine. Ellie waved at him from the opposite corner. She was sitting with some girls on a bed, letting the monkey ride on the princess’s shoulder.

The following week we arrived in the late afternoon. We entered the ward and as I glanced at the beds I stopped short. Kalim had shrunk into a boy of about six. It took me a moment to understand: a different boy lay in Kalim’s bed and the drawing on the wall had vanished. I reached out to Ellie.

‘Where’s Kalim?’ That moment one of the nurses entered, and ushered us outside the room.

‘Kalim is not with us any more. He died. The night after your last visit. He slipped away in his sleep. But that evening he asked me to give you his drawing if he didn’t wake up the next day. I said to him “Don’t be silly!” but, you know, it is mysterious sometimes, the children do know when their time is coming.’

Everyone missed Kalim sorely and that afternoon our plays were dull and lacked enthusiasm. With every death a fire burnt more fiercely in me, but whenever I imagined one of those children under my coat, beneath the very noses of the Germans, I still shuddered, pushing the thought away.

T
he cruel routine continued: every week they forced me to make up new plays for the officers and soldiers. And always on a Friday, our Shabbat evening; as if they hadn’t tormented us enough, the rats took special pleasure in using our Shabbat for their debauched amusement, making me and other Jews accomplices. They introduced more cabaret acts and women, who, caked in thick make-up and with forced smiles, had to kick up their legs in front of the
Herren
officers, revealing much flesh and leaving little to the imagination. It was confusing for me. I hated being there, yet sometimes my body let me down. I was embarrassed by those stirrings in my trousers, ashamed that part of my sexual awakening happened in such a way.

I still got sick from the beer they forced down me and my coat always stank of smoke, sweat and alcohol, but Mother left me alone and never asked again where I had been. Instead, she quietly wrapped the bread and put it away. We only ate it when we had run out of everything else. The morning after, Mama always gave me slightly stronger tea and sometimes even a bit of sugar.

I often felt as if I were staggering through thick fog, confused and numb, and if it hadn’t been for Ellie, I would have been completely lost. She helped me make new puppets and think up crude jokes and tricks, trying to make me laugh.

The rats expected new tricks and new puppets each week, but Max had become more relaxed and at times was even friendly. He didn’t bark at me any more and after each show he’d clap me on the shoulder with a hearty ‘
gut gemacht Bürschchen
, well done, boy!’ Once, when a couple of his comrades were about to force a third beer on me, he pushed the soldiers out of the way, grabbed me and pulled me out into the backyard for some fresh air.

‘I see you don’t like our beer. Don’t worry now,’ he said and smiled, for a moment keeping his hand on my shoulder. Although I still hated him, I couldn’t help but feel grateful too.

That night, when he took me back to the
Wache
, Max gave me a piece of cheese as well as some bread. We hadn’t had cheese for so long I could barely remember its taste.

‘You’re hungry, boy?’ Max asked. What a stupid question. While the Poles on the Aryan side could barely live on their rations, what the Germans allowed the Jews wouldn’t have filled a cat. Starving us had always been part of their plan. I said nothing.

‘Look, tell me what you need and I’ll see what I can do.’

What did I need? Let me think: freedom, decent food, medicine . . . did he enjoy seeing me squirm? How could I possibly trust a rat?

‘Medicine.’ The word tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it. ‘Anything. We have nothing in the ghetto.’

I stopped myself before I could say any more. Thinking of the squalor of the children’s hospital made me nauseous. Max nodded but didn’t comment.

‘Meet you here next week,’ he simply mumbled, then he turned, making his way back to the barracks, while I strode through the gate.

The next time I saw him, Max appeared tense and hardly spoke to me in the barracks nor when he dropped me off at the
Wache
. He thrust the promised bread into my hand without a word and left. No cheese that day. Somehow I felt relieved: I couldn’t trust a rat after all. But towards the end of the week, as Ellie and I rehearsed another play in the workshop, Mama knocked on the door.

‘Mika, I found this in the bread.’ She held up a small brown glass bottle filled with tiny white pills.

‘What’s going on? Where did you get that bread from?’ I snatched the bottle out of her hand.

‘Please don’t ask me, Mama, I can’t tell you.’

I closed the door.

‘Did that soldier hide the pills?’ Ellie asked.

‘Yes. But it could be a trap.’

‘It could be, but that looks like medicine. It says “Aspirin”.’ Ellie examined the bottle, pouring the pills on to her palm. ‘Let’s take it to the hospital.’ We still visited the children’s hospital each week and those pills, although they represented nothing more than a drop in the ocean, would be welcome. The matron confirmed them as genuine and did not ask further.

One day Ellie said she had a terrible pain in her left leg so she stayed behind while I made my way to the hospital. I spent the afternoon on the TB ward and just as I was about to leave, the matron approached me, tugging my coat.

‘Come with me for a moment, please, Mika, I want to ask you something.’ Her expression was friendly but I was alarmed. She led me into her office.

‘Sit down, dear. We’re very lucky to have you here. I’ve heard wonderful things from the children. Your puppets make such a difference. And last week Ellie told me something in confidence. Please don’t be cross and let me finish, I know this needs to remain a secret. I swear on my life that it will stay that way.’

I slid around on my chair and put my hands in my pockets. I itched all over.

‘Mika, I’ve a big favour to ask you. There’s a little girl who has just arrived. She is just over two and she is tiny. She was dropped off with a note around her neck saying “Please forgive us, but we can’t feed another one, please take care of her, she is called Esther.”

I knew what the matron was about to say and I didn’t want to hear it.

‘Mika, there’s nothing wrong with her but she is so very thin and I don’t think she’ll survive if she stays here. I’ve connections on the other side so all I’m asking is that you take her with you when you cross on one of your weekly “outings”. Take her to safety. Ellie told me the soldiers and officers know you well by now and won’t suspect anything. And you always wear that enormous coat. Esther is so tiny. We can arrange for you to meet someone on the other side and hand her over. That way she can be saved, Mika.’

I sat stiff and numb, speechless, not only because of Ellie’s betrayal, but also because of what the matron was asking of me. How could she? How could I, still only a boy, possibly hide another human being under my coat? It was an absolutely ridiculous proposal.

‘We can give her something so she goes to sleep,’ the matron continued her plea, ‘and maybe you can steal away for a moment and get some fresh air?’

It was true I sometimes went outside behind the barracks to get fresh air or to throw up after all the beer. The rats were used to that by now and mostly they left me alone. But not always; sometimes they checked up on me. This woman was simply asking too much of me: to hide a living, breathing being, a little girl, under my coat while I marched with a German soldier into the devil’s den?

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t do this.’ My throat felt as if it were about to close up at any minute, and my voice sounded hoarse and far away. ‘I just can’t.’

The matron’s smile slowly vanished, her face returning to the friendly but reserved mask I had witnessed before.

‘Fine, but I want you to come and meet the girl anyway.’ She took my arm and led me up the large staircase to the first floor. I felt sheepish and didn’t resist.

Ellie and I had never been to this ward. It was even more crammed than the TB ward, full of very young children, sometimes two or three to a bed, and I retched at the overwhelming smell of diarrhoea and vomit. The moaning and crying made my heart sink even lower. The matron looked around the sea of beds, then led me to a small bed in the corner.

The girl looked at me with large green eyes. She wore a thin nightdress and her wild, reddish curls looked as if they had not been combed for weeks. She sat quietly, clutching a naked, blonde doll. She was tiny.

‘This is Esther,’ the matron said in a matter-of-fact way.

‘Hello, Esther, it’s nice to meet you. I am Mika.’ I didn’t know what to say to this fragile being. The girl didn’t answer. Something in her gaze unnerved me. I was sure she knew what was going on and right there it hit me: yes, it was very dangerous but this girl would die if I didn’t take her.

‘I’ll think about it.’ I turned to face the matron.

‘Thank you, Mika.’ Her smile returned, as if she knew I had already made up my mind. The girl stretched out her ragged doll towards me. I reached into my pocket and took out the princess. Esther’s smile lit up her whole face.

That night, Ellie and I sat in the workshop, plotting the girl’s escape as if we were putting together an elaborate new show. But not before I had rained down a long tirade on Ellie, about broken secrets, betrayal, trust and friendship. She just sat quietly until I ran out of steam.

‘All right, then, let’s think.’ I struggled to feel as if I was in charge again. ‘Timing is crucial. I need to hand over the girl before my act, before I use the coat as a stage.’

I was holding the princess in one hand and the sorcerer in the other. For now, Hagazad had to stand in for me, his cape the closest thing I could find resembling my coat.

‘Yes, or you could bring a suitcase with props and a hand-built stage as a surprise. Then you could leave the coat on and go outside at the first opportunity,’ Ellie offered. God, she was smart. Still, I wasn’t convinced.

‘But I don’t know when I will be able to go outside. I mean, the person taking the girl from me will have to be waiting behind the barracks, in the shadows. Do you know how dangerous this is? It won’t work, Ellie.’

I could picture it all: the pitch dark behind the building, its access to the road via a small alley . . . the area swarming with soldiers, day and night. My heart pounded just thinking about it.

‘What if they find out? They’ll probably shoot me on the spot or send me to the Pawiak. And what about the girl?’

‘You mustn’t think like this, Mika.’ Ellie tried to comfort me but I was still angry with her for putting me in such a position. I was no hero.

Suddenly I remembered the prince and his passionate speech that had once so surprised me. I reached inside the left inner pocket and pulled him out. He spoke immediately:

‘So, what’s your verdict, then? You can do something important here. More than just talking and waving puppets around. Come on, Mika, this is your chance. Take it – or forever be ashamed.’ Ellie sat quietly, stunned and delighted at the puppet’s intervention. I had to admit he had a point.

We planned to do it the following week. No use in waiting any longer, it would only postpone the agony. I would take a suitcase to distract from the coat and pack it with props and painted scenery as a surprise for the soldiers. If I appeared nervous I could blame it on this new scenario. We told the matron about our plan, then busied ourselves in the workshop with papier-mâché, paints and endless replaying of scenarios.

And then the day arrived. Just before I was about to leave with my suitcase in tow, Ellie pulled me back into the workshop.

‘I am so proud of you Mika. Please be careful, I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. But I know in my heart you’ll be fine.’ With this she took my face in both hands and kissed me, right on my mouth. I breathed in sharply. It tasted so sweet and was over so quickly. My first kiss! Truly the best antidote to the icy fear that had kept me awake all night. All the way to the hospital I replayed the kiss over and over again in my mind, keeping at bay any thoughts of the little girl I would carry so soon under my coat.

‘
C
ome quickly. In here.’ The matron ushered me into her small room. Her face was flushed, and she moved more quickly than usual. She laid out a plate for me with a thick slice of dark bread and a piece of cheese – like a last meal. Her smile was betrayed by the tension I could hear in her voice.