A Drop of Rain (15 page)

Zegota was a code word for Council for Aid to Jews in Occupied Poland. Established in 1942, the year the Nazis began to transport Jews in
large numbers to death camps, Zegota saved about five thousand Jews before the war ended in 1945.

One of Zegota's most important contributions was providing “Aryan” documents for the Jews under its care. Zegota forged false baptismal, marriage, and death certificates, as well as identity and employment cards. This was done to help Jews pass as Christians.

Zegota manufactured about 50,000 documents. But three million Jews still lost their lives in wartime Poland.

“The help we provided was a small drop in an ocean of need,” says Zegota activist Wladislaw Bartoszewski, an historian and a former Foreign Minister of Poland. “Only one or two per cent received help. . . . I would warn Christians against smugness and self satisfaction.”

“Too little was done,” says another Zegota activist, Irena Sendlerowa, crippled and nearly killed by the Nazis for helping Jewish children. “Many Poles wanted to help. They wanted to, but they were afraid to.”

Zegota was a “rare phenomenon” in Europe during World War II, according to Professor Yisrael Gutman, director of Yad Vashem's research center and former member of a Jewish fighting organization in the Warsaw ghetto. Yad Vashem, the “Holocaust Martyrs' and Heroes' Remembrance Authority”, is located in Israel. It was established in 1953 to document the history of the Jewish people during the Holocaust.

“In Poland the effort to save Jews was much more dangerous than in other occupied countries,” says Professor Gutman. “It is a kind of glory for the Polish people, even it is only the achievement of a very small minority. It was an expression of a great human spirit.”

Zegota was “very important, morally important,” according to Professor Alexander Gieysztor, President of Poland's Academy of Sciences and a former Home Army liaison with Zegota. “It was a kind of civic duty to help.”

Members of Zegota came from differing backgrounds. They were mainly Catholic but also atheist, agnostic and Jewish.

This moving, thought-provoking film was produced by the Documentaries International Film & Video Foundation of Washington, D.C. for classroom and community screening.

I am angry with Sarah. She forgot about my audition for her band when I was too shy to mention it again.

I saw Curtis again in the hall at school. I marched up to him and asked him why he hadn't phoned the aquatic director at the Rec Plex about the job I got him.

“You could have told me that you were
not
interested,” I said. “Why didn't you? I told the aquatic director that you
were
interested, and that you'd
phone
her.”

“Look, Naomi, I'm really sorry about how rude I've been,” Curtis said, getting red in the face. “I can't
explain now because I have another class, but I can meet you at the front doors of the school in an hour.”

“Okay,” I said. “But don't be late. I won't wait.”

What Curtis said when I met him later was both embarrassing and astounding. He said that he preferred to get his own jobs. He also said that he had been so impressed by me on the plane, he was too shy to phone me afterward.

“You were so well dressed, sophisticated and sure of yourself!” he said. “I didn't think you'd be interested in what I'm really like. You seemed like a privileged person who can't imagine why everyone else isn't as sociable as she is.”

I told him that I had given him the wrong impression. I said that if he wants to see how weird my life is, he should come over to my house on Saturday evening and meet my family. He said he'd really like to come. I hope he'll keep his word this time.

Lone Wolf saw She Wolf.

She Wolf saw Lone Wolf.

She Wolf attacked Lone Wolf. She bit and clawed.

Lone Wolf defended himself.

She Wolf wants Lone Wolf to visit her den and pack.

Q: Will lonely Lone Wolf win the paw of lovely She Wolf?

A: Wait for the first edition of our new cartoon strip entitled, “Something.”

I got zero on the physics assignment. Mr. Bell noticed that Tom's and my answers were identical. I
told him I'd work hard from now on.

“See that you do,” he said ominously.

I felt humilitated.

I wish I could talk to Dad more often. He's in California now on business.

“Big bucks in the land of Bill Gates,” he said. “I should have no problem buying you a car for Christmas. Maybe even a new one.”

That was Dad's message in our epic, one-minute discussion today.

Many students in my class have a special talent. Alice is a poet. The teacher always reads aloud what Alice writes. The class must discuss Alice's poem.

Frederick is a mathematician. No matter what question the teacher gives him, he can do the calculations—one, two, three and presto!

Peter is an artist. He draws pictures of everybody in the class—even the teacher. And his portraits really look like the person.

Beatrice is an actor. She is not plain like me. She is downright homely. But our school puts on a play, and Beatrice acts the part of a witch. Everybody says Beatrice is as good as a great actor in Warsaw. Now everybody knows that some day Beatrice will be famous.

As for me, I am good at many things. When the teacher asks us to write about the meaning of life, I write about what happened to my family in the war. The teacher reads aloud my composition. The class
has to discuss it.

Sometimes the teacher asks me to go to the blackboard at the front of the class and show how I get the answer to a maths question, and often I am right.

I can draw the leaves of a plant accurately. Everybody can tell what kind of plant it is.

I am good at gymnastics, and I practice every day after school. Maybe I will win the national competition.

But I am not as good at sports as Johnny is. And I can't do my homework as fast as he can. Johnny finishes his lessons in one hour. Then maybe he fixes something for Mommy or Grandpa. Then he goes outside to play soccer with his friends. And he still gets the highest marks in his class!

I have to stay inside and study. Maybe I go out to the garden for a while and pull weeds, or else I help Grandpa with the animals, but then I have to come back inside and study some more. Meanwhile, Johnny is having fun.

Elizabeth doesn't care about getting good marks. She only studies a little bit. Then she cleans the house. Then she goes outside and walks with her gentleman friend. Still, Mommy says that Elizabeth is an angel.

I don't have a gentleman friend, and I am not an angel.

One day Elizabeth asks me to mail a letter to her gentleman friend. I go to the gymnastics club after school, and the gym club is near the post office.

Elizabeth has had a disagreement with her gentleman friend. She got angry and sent him away. Now she wants to apologize to him for sending him away.

I am in such a hurry that I forget to mail the letter.
So the next day Elizabeth doesn't get a letter back from her gentleman friend, and he doesn't come to call.

She asks me if I mailed the letter, and I say, “No, but I'll mail it tomorrow for sure.”

But the next day I am in such a hurry that I forget to mail the letter again.

So again Elizabeth doesn't get a letter back from her gentleman friend, and he doesn't come to call. And again she asks me if I mailed the letter, and I say, “No, but I'll mail it tomorrow for sure.”

Elizabeth still has long golden curls, but Mommy says she's like a nun, because she is so patient and loving and good.

I am not a nun. The third day I also forget to mail my sister's letter.

When she asks me if I mailed it, I say, “Yes, of course.”

“Thank you,” says Elizabeth, ever so sweetly. “You're a dear sister.”

I say nothing and go and do my homework.

The next day when I come home from gym club, Elizabeth is crying because her gentleman friend didn't write her a letter, even though she wrote to
him
. And he didn't come to call.

I don't say anything, but I get on my bicycle and ride all the way to the post office without stopping, and I finally mail that letter.

Am I ever tired that evening as I do my homework! But I am happy, because I know that tomorrow Elizabeth will be smiling.

And she is!

After I win the national gymnastics competition, I
get very sick. I turn all yellow. The doctor diagnoses hepatitis and says my liver is diseased.

I was supposed to go to the Olympics, but after that sickness I can never do competitive sports again. I still like walking, though, and riding my bicycle.

And after being in the hospital, I want to be a doctor again—just like I did when I was a little kid.

Hanna's memories begin mostly after the war. One day when she was playing with some other children, these children began saying something derogatory about Jews. And she joined in. But then she saw the horrified look on her mother's face! She never joined in again.

Hanna and her mother lived for a long time after the war in a little log cabin in the Carpathians. The cabin had been built by an aunt who was a teacher in the village school. Hanna and her mother both had tuberculosis, so the mountain air was good for them.

Hanna attended the village school, fetched wood for the stove and helped in the garden.

When Hanna was a teenager, a priest named Karol Wojtyla used to come to the village from Krakow to lead young people on hiking trips in the mountains. This was the same Karol Wojtyla who became Pope John Paul II!

Father Wojtyla discussed religion during these hikes. Sometimes, he and his hikers would drop in to a little wooden church to pray.

Everyone would be wearing hiking clothes while
they prayed. Even Father Wojtyla. And everyone had to address Father Wojtyla as “Uncle”, rather than “Father”. If the communist authorities knew he was a priest, he and his young hikers would be in trouble.

When I met her in 1979, Hanna still liked hiking in forests and high places. She also liked discussing philosophy, art and literature.

Hanna and her mother obtained an apartment in Warsaw by winning a lottery.

She and her mother received occasional packages of food and clothing from relatives living abroad. They also received help from another priest whom Hanna called “Uncle”.

When I visited Hanna in Warsaw, “Uncle” still dropped by from time to time with a bouquet of flowers and some meat and vegetables from his country parish.

“Uncle” never stayed long. Just long enough for tea and a chat, and then he was gone.

Hanna spoke once only about her “ten lost years”. These were the years following her mother's suicide.

Yet she acquired a Master's degree in art history, and a Master's degree in library science. She began to work at the National Library in Warsaw.

She said she had to relearn everything. The relearning was slow and painful.

One of the poems in Reed's collection is dedicated to Hanna. This long poem, titled “Warsaw Reverie”, is complex and prosey, but its refrain is brief and lyrical. The refrain was apparently inspired by a glimpse Reed caught of Hanna standing in a crowded, jerking
tramway in Warsaw. Reed had already met Hanna several times at the National Library, where she worked. Here is the refrain:

She is tall and within her is some strength of mind,

and she sways. The wind is kissing her eyes and lashes,

and she sways. The wind is bringing the rain and ashes,

and she sways. Within her is some strength of mind.

The out-of-control student was hauled up by the head of her department. She was given a long and serious talking-to. When I phoned the head, she was completely supportive of me. Other teachers have been having the same kinds of problems with this student, or worse. Case closed. (Joe, old man, where was your self confidence?)