A Survivor's Guide to Eternity (22 page)

“Mind out, I need to close this,” said Yedida, as she grabbed the trap door and flipped it shut.

“Look, check this out,” she added, as she pulled the door open by an inch or so.

“Squint your eyes and look out through the opening, Ed.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, you’ll see,” she replied. Ed did as she said and squinted at the partially open trap door.

“I can’t believe it,” he gasped, astonished by the myriad of rainbow colours that jetted through the small gap.

“What is it?”

“It’s the music. I told you they were working with colours. You can see them if you close your eyes but it really gets exciting when the music squeezes through a small gap on the light. Far out eh?” replied Yedida, as she finally closed the door.

“Yes, indeed.”

They both got up and began walking down the tunnel, which was slightly bigger than the previous tunnels but equally adorned with back lit vines and dazzling red sand. They walked for a few minutes in silence but then Ed couldn’t help but ask about the tattoo on the young lady’s forearm.

“I noticed the tattoo on your arm, Yedida. I hope you don’t mind me asking about that?”

“Actually I was going to tell you about myself anyway. There are no secrets in here and it’s really important to get to know what makes people who they are. I really need to explain my complex family history to you first though. It’s quite a ride, trust me,” exclaimed Yedida vulnerably.

“I’m a good listener,” replied Ed, as they continued walking through the dramatically back lit vine-coated tunnels.

“Well, way back, my family comes from
Africa
. Not sure exactly where. My great grandfather had been slaved and ended up in
Cuba
. His son ended up in southern
America
and somehow after all that, after the abolition, my mother ended up in
Germany
, finally to be married to a white German tailor. It was not an easy place to be black at the time. The First World War had ended and
Germany
was on its knees, crippled by the financial demands of the coalition of
Europe
and
America
. It helped give rise to the Nazi party who gradually went from strength to strength.”

“Yes, I know all about that,” replied Ed.

“Our family was okay though. My father worked hard and made a real success out of his business and my mother did absolutely everything to give me a stable and loving upbringing. She was my heroine. I went to college, studied and passed my law exams with flying colours and really got some good opportunities. However, the Nazis were going from strength to strength and starting to take a hold on the infrastructure of the country. They had lots of gangs of thugs that would beat up communists, gays, Jews, blacks and anyone else that took their fancy. After some years it started to become hell on the streets. We knew we would be targeted at some point but repressed the facts and thought that one day sense and logic would prevail and everything would be alright. How wrong we were.

“One day my mother came home with a torn dress, spattered in blood, limping and moaning. She slumped into the chair as my father and I rushed over to comfort her. We were in total shock. I hurried to the bathroom to get her plasters, towels, and antiseptic. She was distraught and pushed us away as we tried to help, sobbing with a pain I never knew could be possible. It transpired that she had been cornered by a small group of thugs who taunted and abused her, beat her and raped her over and over in a dirty alley, leaving her for dead, bleeding and crying.

“It was a tragedy from which she would never recover. She was completely ruined and finally killed herself less than a month later. Before she did though, she told me all about her time in
America
and how my grandfather and great grandfather had both been slaves and the suffering that entailed. She didn’t want me to know about all that negativity previously. Were it not for the fact that this devastating attack had happened, I doubt I would have ever known. She hated persecution and bullying so much and after her stories I really got to understand why.”

“That’s terrible,” replied Ed with concern as they continued along the long tunnels, a faint breeze brushing over their faces soothingly.

“I was mortified by the whole situation, the prejudice, the hatred. How could people be so incredibly violent and brutal to an innocent person just because they’re different? It just didn’t make sense to me at all. My father and I both responded in completely different ways. He became terrified, a shell of the man he previously was. Everything that happened was a cause for concern and scared him more until one day he went off and without ever really understanding what he was doing, joined the Nazi party. I remember so clearly that day he came home in the uniform, starched collars and perfectly shining boots as if clean boots cleaned a soul. His eyes were glazed over and he went straight upstairs without a word. By the next morning I had left, along with a small suitcase with a few clothes and basics in it. I had no idea which way to turn. The whole environment was getting more and more radical by the week and I knew I had to get off the street as quickly as I could.”

“It must have been so painful? Why on earth would he have done that?” interjected Ed sympathetically.

“I don’t know. I’ll never understand that. Anyway, I had the idea of going down to the local Synagogue. I was shocked to find it covered in abusive graffiti and swastikas. The walls were charred with the signs of failed petrol bomb attacks and the broken windows were barely visible from the protective boards nailed in place haphazardly. I knocked and knocked at the door but there was no reply. I waited there for absolutely ages until by chance a young girl of about fifteen came past and ushered me along the side path, through some boxes and barriers and into a side door.

“Once inside I could see the main prayer room was barely a quarter full, maybe thirty or forty people. They called me over and gave me a hot drink, sat me down and continued their debate about escaping the city and leaving their possessions and properties to be ransacked. The debate went on and on, trying to unravel the impossible and unbelievable situation that was enveloping them. Round and round in circles they went, what will they do to us? How could that be humanly possible? Surely the human beings we have been living side by side with for generations could not even think of letting that happen? Sadly it was a grim reality and when bricks and bottles once again started to rain down on the building, logic took control and they agreed they needed to get out and find ways to hide people until it all died down.”

“It must have been such a shocking realisation. Had you ever imagined that could have happened?”

“Never in a million years. My mother had preached understanding and love. Accept and tolerate, never react and aggress. She was a fine teacher and even in these extreme circumstances, I felt strong.”

“You’re such an inspiring person,” replied Ed respectfully.

“Thanks. Necessity is the mother of pain management, eh! Anyway, I converted to Judaism right there and then. I begged them to let me in. They were reluctant and said it wasn’t a simple ceremony but I pleaded that I wanted to share their plight religiously, not just because I was black but because I supported them with all my heart. After some while, the Rabbi conceded and did some sort of very quick ceremony whilst the bricks thudded on the building. Then they sewed a yellow star on my jacket, and I was united with them in their suffering. The missiles continued to fall until we heard a loud noise at the front door of the synagogue. All of a sudden it just caved in and a tatty open-top car burst through. Two middle aged men leapt from the car and opened fire with some sort of rapid firing rifle.

“We fled in every direction. The people directly to my left and right got hit and blood spattered out in front of them as they fell down face first into their own path. I just kept on running, out the side door and over a small wall with the fifteen year old girl I had met at the beginning of the evening. She had an idea where we could hide and took us through the dark myriad of small cobbled streets and alleys until we got to a small baker’s. We darted through a tiny door at the side of the building and were greeted by a small, fat, balding German man in pyjamas who ushered us inside and locked the door behind. We heard the cobbled boots run past in the alleyway, stopping momentarily outside the shop before continuing on their way. It was terrifying.”

“I don’t think I would have trusted anyone at that point,” commented Ed, noticing that the faint breeze had given way to a total stillness.

“I had to. I trusted Ellie, the young girl and I had to go with the flow. Anyway, it turned out well for a while. The baker, Fritz, looked after us, fed us, got us new clothes and made sure we were comfortable. We never went out at all though and stayed confined to his little back room. Then as the situation worsened he built a secret section behind a book case where we could hide safely, even if they came to search, which they did a few times. We were pin-drop silent, not even a flutter of hair to give the game away. Ellie was an amazingly strong girl, going through all that at such a young age.”

“Both of you for that matter, Yedida,” observed Ed.

“Yes, I suppose so. She was very philosophical and realistic though. When she was very young, she told me how she was attracted to the BDM just like all her German girl friends.”

“What’s the BDM?” replied Ed, as they came to a small junction of tunnels. He followed her lead as she took the second on the left, equally enchanting with the back lit vines casting delicate shadows across the smooth sandy floor.

“The
League of German
Girls, another one of Hitler’s ideas to go along with the Hitler youth boys organisation, which dated back as far as the mid-twenties. Every little girl wanted to join it and go on their weekend excursions and camps with their plaited hair, singing songs and learning all the requirements of being a good German woman.”

“Must have been like the girl guides for psychopaths?” replied Ed.

“Yes, that’s one way of putting it.”

“But you said she was Jewish? How can she have wanted to join those
un-travelled, uneducated and uncouth racist bigots
?”

“I guess she was just caught up in the hype and fashion of the whole thing. Virtually everyone joined and those that didn’t were sometimes kicked out of their school. Ellie didn’t realise she was classed as ‘different’ until she tried to join and was rejected. Then the school bullying started and that was the beginning of a very nasty few years for her. I remember her saying that it was as though everyone in her school had been hypnotised. Girls that had previously been her friends turned on her. Everyone apparently got possessed with idolising the Fuhrer and demonising Jews, Gypsies, Blacks and anyone else that didn’t fit into their s
trange illusion of a perfect world.”

“It’s strange that people didn’t feel guilty enough en masse to just stand up and say ‘Look! This isn’t right, we have had enough,’ don’t you think?”

“Listen, Ed, in a room of mad people the sane one is the odd one out. People wanted to believe the hype just like they believe over-inflated religious doctrines. They wanted to join, belong and obey, to not stand out or be the black sheep. Of course, as time moved on, their decisions were more based on fear than anything else,” replied Yedida.

“It must have been a hellish thing to live through and see developing in front of your very eyes.”

“It was indeed, corroding everything civilised, like water slowly eroding rock. It was so subtle that people didn’t even realise it was happening. I guess their need for security and belonging was greater than their need for freedom.”

“Someone else said that to me recently. Can’t remember who.”

“Age old wisdom.”

“What’s enlightening about speaking to you is how I get to see it all from a personal perspective rather than a chronologically watermarked historical analysis.”

“It’s just my personal experience.”