Ribbingelund, Sweden, 1945: Susan Pollack OBE, aged 15, recuperates after liberation from Bergen-Belsen:

It took a long time for me to strengthen my own needs. I made a friend & she made a very big, deep impression on me. A shared nightmare. Friendship, trust, sharing, being understood. But then she left, she met someone. I forget exactly the reason why she left quite soon.

I missed her terribly. I still think about her. I never befriended the other survivors that much. They were older & more angry. We had felt vulnerable. I lost my youth.

My treatment was based on just walking, slow walking. Being fed with good food, listening to music every night, gentle. That’s what I enjoyed very much, a peaceable existence. An existence where I could walk on my own if I chose to do so. Being understood, how lovely. How lovely when you’ve got a home & you’re being loved & considered & you mattered. What a great feeling. And of course, I didn’t have anyone.

Susan & her brother Laci were the only members of their 50-strong extended family to survive the Holocaust

I often repeat it now in my quiet times, the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He raised me down in still waters. Who will ascend to the mountain of righteousness? Only those with clean hands and a pure heart. I repeat it to myself in my little prayer.

My brother told me not to come home. I learned of his survival when I was in Sweden. He informed me, ‘Don’t come back to Hungary’, so where could I go? I’m just on my own. That oneness, aloneness.

Then going to Canada, somehow it emerged. We were told that we could go to Canada. I didn’t know where it is located, what it is. That aloneness was a driving force, aloneness. The realisation, where do I belong? Where do I belong? So they took me to Canada & that’s where I met my husband-to-be.

We were taken to Toronto. For three weeks we stayed in this home together. Then placed individually with people, with families. I was placed with a Jewish family. I became a kind of a Communist, because they were Communist & the Communists were very friendly. There was a son & a daughter, who wasn’t very friendly to me. I felt the loneliness there very much.

Then, it was a problem, going occasionally to these meetings with the Communists could present a huge problem, living in Canada. So, we cut that off. Then I met my husband-to-be. They found a job for me. I had no education, nothing. Nobody suggested, ‘Ah, you could learn to speak English in the evening classes’ or whatever. No, nothing.

The factory was miserable time in my life. I couldn’t use the electric sewing machine. I was the only girl who couldn’t speak a word of English. Other people formed themselves in a group. And laughing. ‘Oh’, you know, ‘she’s…’ That went on for a while, being on my own & excluded. No understanding of where I'd come from.

I learned my English actually, by listening to people. The daughter of the boss said, ‘Can I come & visit you?’ I said ‘Please do.’ I didn’t have any money to buy food, but that’s by the way. Then she cancelled. I can’t tell you how unhappy I became, having been—you know, she’s the boss’s daughter. Then, she cancelled it. I felt very shameful. It was difficult, it was difficult because we felt, like you say, we were the others.

I met my husband. Hungarian, a few years older than me. Same experience. He had a terrible time, it’s surprising he managed to survive. He was working on railways & many of them died. He became very aware of his—missed—necessity of living in a modern world. He was a good listener. He was fun, liked dancing. We understood each other's tough times. It helped me, it gave me strength, the driving force.

‘Do you want a ring?’, he said. ‘No’, I said, ‘it has no practical purpose, a ring. I need a watch, if anything.’ So, I got a watch.

Swedish Recuperation

Memories

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