Shattered Crystals by Mia Amalia Kanner (no david read aloud .txt) 📕

I threw my napkin on the floor and pounded the table. “Everything changes,” I shouted. “All of a sudden they tell the Jewish men, ‘You are a German. You are the enemy. Religion does not count. That you fled Nazi Germany in danger of your life does not count.’ How could they arrest Jews? How?”

“The French are not the Nazis,” he said, echoing Sal’s words. “The French despise the Germans.”

Most of the next morning, I sat immobilized in the living room. My sister Edith played with Lea and Rachel; Ruth and Eva read; and Hannah talked on the telephone. She had many contacts in Montmorency, Jews and non-Jews. From them, Hannah learned that the Jews and German nationals were being sent to Maison La Fitte, an internment camp in Northwestern France.

The children and I stayed another night with Herman and Hannah. The following morning I realized that we could not remain with them indefinitely. But what could I do? Money was just one of my pressing problems. The Jewish Committee had awarded Sal a monthly allowance when he arrived in Paris, but there was not much left after paying for the hotel room. Herman gave me some money and told me not to worry. But I was very worried when I learned that Sal’s subsidy by the Jewish Committee ended with his arrest.

Even if Herman paid the rent, how long could the girls go on, idling away their days in Hannah’s house and sleeping in the dilapidated hotel at night? The outbreak of the war would extend our stay in Paris, and we were classified as temporary visitors. As long as we retained this status, the children could not attend school.

Hannah and I discussed all the problems except one that troubled me immensely; the increasing strain of the work and the expense of feeding five extra—only four now.

“The wife of the Montmorency mayor is Jewish,” Hannah said. “When I told her about Sal’s arrest and how hard it would be now, she suggested you think about the OSE.”

The OSE, Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants, was founded at St. Petersburg, Russia, in 1912 to look after the health and welfare of needy Jews. The organization moved to Berlin in 1923, and in 1933 with the rise of Nazism, it was transferred to Paris. As Nazi persecution displaced more and more Jewish children in Germany, Austria, and Poland, separating them from their parents, orphaning some, the OSE established homes for Jewish children around Paris. Several were located in Montmorency.

I did not respond immediately when Hannah made the suggestion.

“It would be good for Ruth and Eva to be among other children and go to school again,” she said.

That was true, but she was also proposing that I give up the children. The thought filled me with anguish, but I knew she was right about the needs of my girls. The OSE would bring a sense of order back into the lives of my girls. But how would they feel about it? They had not complained when I sent them to Leipzig, but they were with their grandfather whom they loved, not in an orphanage with strangers. I remembered how happy they had been to go to the Jewish school in Leipzig after being home in the Halle apartment for two months. Still, I was worried they would not understand that I had to send them away, that I really had no choice.

The situation was critical enough to seek out Karfiol. He was kind and cordial, and I did not need to tell him what had happened. He knew about the arrest of German Jews and had assumed that Sal was among them. When I brought up the question of the OSE, he said the children in the homes all came from good Jewish families. The homes were held in high esteem and would be suitable for Ruth and Eva. He thought the OSE would accept the girls into one of their homes. Not surprisingly, Karfiol was a contributor to the OSE, and he promised to talk to some people in the organization.

Hannah and I went to appeal to the wife of Montmorency’s mayor. She referred us to an official of the Villa Helvetia, whom we also visited. Altogether it took a week until I heard from the OSE. Then the letter arrived, welcoming Ruth and Eva to the home. They were expected to arrive in the next two days.

“Tante Hannah can’t keep all of us any more,” I said. “It’s too much for her to keep feeding us and having us in her house all the time. And while we live in this old hotel, you’re not allowed to go to school. But once you’re in the home, you can study again.”

I hugged them both to me. Then I rose and pulled two suitcases out from under the bed. “I have been to the Villa Helvetia. It is a beautiful place, big and airy and very clean. There are lots of children there. And I met the director’s wife. Her name is Dr. Lene Papanek, and she and the teachers are all very nice.”

“But we won’t be with you, Mama,” Ruth said.

“It’s only half an hour’s walk from here, and I’ll come and see you every Sunday. Now, watch what I’m packing for you. Underwear, pajamas on the bottom, socks in the corner, comb and toothbrush in the side pocket.”

“It’s not so bad here,” Eva said. “I wish we didn’t have to go.”

“I wish the same, but it can’t be helped,” I said and breathed deeply to keep from crying. “I wish I had brought more warm clothes from Germany,” I said. “I didn’t think we’d be in France very long. It’s very warm in Palestine. When we reach Palestine, we’ll have sunny days.”

On the way to supper at Hannah’s late that afternoon, we passed a sweet shop. On impulse, I pulled the girls into the store. “Any flavor you like,” I said to the girls. “Ruth, you speak French already. Glac� is the first word you learned, so you order.”

I imagined there would be many rules at the OSE home. Watching the children lick their chocolate ice cream cones, I was inordinately pleased that I had broken my rule against treats before supper.

Early the next morning, Ruth and Eva passed through the iron fence that surrounded the Villa Helvetia. Barely two months after I had triumphantly emerged from the small plane at the Paris airport, our family was separated, split up, to sleep that night under three different roofs.