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July 1938: Bridget Newman's father, mother & brother move to Britain. Bridget, age 6, remains in Berlin with her grandmother. I was stuck. Then one day, the doorbell rang: a Gestapo. He came in, he was really rather nice. He had white hair & a big, white moustache & really quite kindly blue eyes. But he apologised, really, really apologised that he would now have to take this house & we would have to go. But we had to go quite quickly. I was in a bit of danger, because my father hadn't paid the Juden tax & they were looking for me. My grandmother couldn’t be with me anymore. She found a safe house for me, with a lady, Mrs Grünbaum. I’m sure she was a very good woman but I disliked her intensely. My grandmother had some flat or dwelling place near me. But we were only allowed to meet in the wood secretly. I had to eat potato soup with sausage in it. Nowadays I love it. In those days I hated it & I didn’t eat. I shared a room with other children & nearly every night the Gestapo were hammering at the doors of the house, looking for adults. Quite scary, a lot of noise & clatter. We were trying to sleep. My parents sent an Englishwoman over to try to help me. She found a place for me on a train bearing orphaned children to London. We had a day & everything. And on the day, I woke up, itching all over. What was the matter? I had chickenpox. Now, with any illness or disease, I would not have been allowed on the train. So, they clothed me with I don’t know how many layers of clothing, to cover all the spots [laughs]. And also, to take more clothes out, because I only had this small suitcase & and 10-shilling note & a big notice on my chest saying, ‘Both parents dead.’ I wouldn't have been allowed on the train otherwise. This was mid-December 1938. I said goodbye to my old nanny. We both cried bitterly and she said, ‘Why don’t you stay here with our lovely Hitler?’ I had no answer for that. I don't remember Kristallnacht. I just remember I got this teddy bear & was shoved to this safe house. The lady who came to arrange for me to go to England insisted I had to call her 'Auntie' & wear white gloves. She didn't come with me on the train. Nobody was allowed to travel with me. I had to say goodbye to my grandmother & this lady on the platform. My grandmother arranged for a little 11-year-old to look after me. I had chickenpox. I remember being on that ship & I itched, I couldn’t scratch. I couldn’t get anywhere. I was 6. I didn’t think I was happy; I think I cried a lot. But I had this little girl & she gave me a silver bracelet, which she said I should wear in her memory, which I did afterwards for many years. I didn’t know what happened to her. We went on to this boat at night. There was something soft on the floor. We all had to lie down as we were & told to go to sleep. I seem to remember just laying down, but itching. [Laughs] And then I don’t know if it’s true but I remember hearing frogs croak & chains rattle. Then I was shoved up the gangway to leave the ship. And there at the top of the gangway were my parents, & we cried & my mother cried. I said to her, ‘Why are you crying?’ She said, ‘Because I’m so happy.’ My parents were staying at the Cumberland Hotel in Marble Arch. My mother had a little gas ring on which she’d got a Schnitzel ready for me. And I can still smell the Schnitzel being fried & prepared for me. It was the first decent food I’d had for a long time. Then 14 days later my grandmother also arrived. We had a big celebration. 992: Chickenpox Bridget Newman Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Previous Memory Next Memory 992: Chickenpox ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Bridget Newman Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Bridget Newman's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, October 2023 • Learn More → Bridget Newman Encounter With Nazi Officials Food In Hiding Staying With Strangers Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany See Locations Full Text July 1938: Bridget Newman's father, mother & brother move to Britain. Bridget, age 6, remains in Berlin with her grandmother. I was stuck. Then one day, the doorbell rang: a Gestapo. He came in, he was really rather nice. He had white hair & a big, white moustache & really quite kindly blue eyes. But he apologised, really, really apologised that he would now have to take this house & we would have to go. But we had to go quite quickly. I was in a bit of danger, because my father hadn't paid the Juden tax & they were looking for me. My grandmother couldn’t be with me anymore. She found a safe house for me, with a lady, Mrs Grünbaum. I’m sure she was a very good woman but I disliked her intensely. My grandmother had some flat or dwelling place near me. But we were only allowed to meet in the wood secretly. I had to eat potato soup with sausage in it. Nowadays I love it. In those days I hated it & I didn’t eat. I shared a room with other children & nearly every night the Gestapo were hammering at the doors of the house, looking for adults. Quite scary, a lot of noise & clatter. We were trying to sleep. My parents sent an Englishwoman over to try to help me. She found a place for me on a train bearing orphaned children to London. We had a day & everything. And on the day, I woke up, itching all over. What was the matter? I had chickenpox. Now, with any illness or disease, I would not have been allowed on the train. So, they clothed me with I don’t know how many layers of clothing, to cover all the spots [laughs]. And also, to take more clothes out, because I only had this small suitcase & and 10-shilling note & a big notice on my chest saying, ‘Both parents dead.’ I wouldn't have been allowed on the train otherwise. This was mid-December 1938. I said goodbye to my old nanny. We both cried bitterly and she said, ‘Why don’t you stay here with our lovely Hitler?’ I had no answer for that. I don't remember Kristallnacht. I just remember I got this teddy bear & was shoved to this safe house. The lady who came to arrange for me to go to England insisted I had to call her 'Auntie' & wear white gloves. She didn't come with me on the train. Nobody was allowed to travel with me. I had to say goodbye to my grandmother & this lady on the platform. My grandmother arranged for a little 11-year-old to look after me. I had chickenpox. I remember being on that ship & I itched, I couldn’t scratch. I couldn’t get anywhere. I was 6. I didn’t think I was happy; I think I cried a lot. But I had this little girl & she gave me a silver bracelet, which she said I should wear in her memory, which I did afterwards for many years. I didn’t know what happened to her. We went on to this boat at night. There was something soft on the floor. We all had to lie down as we were & told to go to sleep. I seem to remember just laying down, but itching. [Laughs] And then I don’t know if it’s true but I remember hearing frogs croak & chains rattle. Then I was shoved up the gangway to leave the ship. And there at the top of the gangway were my parents, & we cried & my mother cried. I said to her, ‘Why are you crying?’ She said, ‘Because I’m so happy.’ My parents were staying at the Cumberland Hotel in Marble Arch. My mother had a little gas ring on which she’d got a Schnitzel ready for me. And I can still smell the Schnitzel being fried & prepared for me. It was the first decent food I’d had for a long time. Then 14 days later my grandmother also arrived. We had a big celebration. 992: Chickenpox Bridget Newman Adapted from Bridget Newman's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, October 2023 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Pre-war Camp Memories 989: Buying Sauerkraut & Soap Eva Mendelsson When you're a child, when nasty things happen, you remember. It makes a tremendous impression, even if you don’t quite understand... Read Full Memory 990: The Shock Marianne Summerfield BEM My father was asked to report to Nazi headquarters. Stupidly, although my mother told him not to, he just walked into it... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

Encounter With Hitler Memories 993: Jews Not Welcome Ruth Jackson One thing stands out in my mind. I went shopping with my mother & saw a man in front of me with a swastika burnt into his skull... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

Song Memories 989: Buying Sauerkraut & Soap Eva Mendelsson When you're a child, when nasty things happen, you remember. It makes a tremendous impression, even if you don’t quite understand... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

936: Why It's Necessary To Talk & Write Selma van de Perre Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Selma van de Perre was part of the Dutch Resistance & incarcerated in Ravensbrück. Her parents & sister were murdered in Auschwitz & Sobibór. She is a Holocaust educator & best-selling memoirist. I didn’t speak at all the first 30 years! To anyone or anything or myself. It was in 1975 with the opening of the Ravensbrück Memorial in Amsterdam. They asked me again to come. I went. For the first time. They said, 'Why didn’t you come before?' But I was building up a new life in Britain. You know. But since then, I've been every year. My nephews said to me: 'You must write it down Selma because you’re the last one of the family, & it must be told.' I made a few notes but I never did anything about it. But it was at this painting class, where I said, 'I can’t come next week because I’m going to Holland'. The teacher said 'How nice, have a lovely holiday.' I said 'it’s really not a holiday. It’s you know, it’s that & that. I'll give a few talks.' She said, 'What about?' So, I said a few things. She asked for more. She said 'I never knew this! Concentration camps in Holland? Resistance workers? I didn’t know there were resistance workers in Holland.' She'd never heard of Ravensbrück. And people never thought that there were non-Jewish resistance workers, certainly not Jewish resistance workers. That's why I think it's necessary to talk & write. Because so very little is known about Jewish resistance workers. Because if they—when they were caught, they were killed! Nobody was alive after the war. Hardly anyone. Very few, like me. That’s why it’s not known. That’s why I thought it needs to be written. I'm glad I did. Now I'm used to talking about it. I’ve done that so often in Holland & Germany, workshops. During the war, Selma was a slave labourer for various German companies including Siemens. The archives of Siemens were closed for years. Until, one day I received an invitation. One of the directors of Siemens asked me to come over at a dinner. The Director of Ravensbrück arranged the dinner. That’s when Germans started asking me. First of all Siemens asked me to give a talk to the young employees. They took me to the factory. My experiences had a big impact on me, of course. I tell myself to enjoy every day & I try to do that. I’m very glad I’m alive still every day, & every morning I know that. Also I don’t attach so much thought about things that go wrong or break. It’s not a human life. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Selma van de Perre's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, August 2020 • Learn More → Selma van de Perre Close Family Murdered Concentration Camp Nerves of Steel Ravensbrück Resistance Slave Labourer Telling The Story Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

Attempted Humiliation Memories 925: Finding Something Good In Everything Ursula Gilbert My father always used to find something good in everything. He'd say: ‘Things are not so bad. We'll get through it.’ Until the very last day... Read Full Memory 945: Dad's Blood-Drenched Shirt Bea Green MBE I believe trying to protect your children by not telling them everything is a terrible thing. Because it makes them imagine things worse than reality... Read Full Memory 958: Discovering I Was Jewish John Dobai My parents thought that by changing their religion, it might produce some sort of saving, at least for me. But they were wrong... Read Full Memory 960: The Awful Heydrich Reprisals Frank Bright Two Gestapo men came to our flat & asked where was I at the time. My mother had been indoors. I had just arrived from school... Read Full Memory 971: Equalising What Happened Dr Charlotte Feldman They used to demonstrate in the street below us. They used to shout, ‘Jews to Palestine!’ I had a very happy childhood... Read Full Memory 977: The Cruel Guardian Maria Ault My first guardians were fine. But when we were evacuated we stayed with a very, very, very, very bad person who used to hit us... Read Full Memory 985: Black Heart Outside The Flat Miriam Freedman It's difficult. Children feel very protected. Everything goes well. Then all of a sudden you see terrible things, like people disappearing... Read Full Memory 988: Getting Up From The Dust Ivor Perl BEM I was only 12 when I was taken to Auschwitz. I feel very, very hurt that I haven’t got many memories of my family... Read Full Memory 989: Buying Sauerkraut & Soap Eva Mendelsson When you're a child, when nasty things happen, you remember. It makes a tremendous impression, even if you don’t quite understand... Read Full Memory Previous Experience Next Experience

England The Leys School, Cambridge Memories 952: Interned On My 16th Birthday John Goldsmith In 1940, on my 16th birthday, I was writing an English essay & looking through the window & I saw a policeman... Previous Location Next Location

England Harrow Memories 982: Not Dwelling On Things Gerta Regensburger I have no feelings & not many memories. I’m not a very retrospective person. It always amazes me that so many people remember... Previous Location Next Location

973: The Puzzle & The Blanks Jacques Weisser BEM Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Brussels 1942: 6-month-old Jacques Weisser BEM is hidden in children's homes & hospitals. His father is forced to become an Organisation Todt slave labourer. His mother is deported to Malines & murdered in Auschwitz. I should've delved more into it, asking questions. But most of the time after the war I wasn't with my father. When I was he never wanted to talk about it. 'It was what it was, we survived, we made a life for ourselves'. That's what he'd say. He refused to be interviewed by the Shoah Foundation. Maybe being on camera wasn’t his thing. My father was already gone when my mother was taken in the street. The question is, who was I with during that period? Who looked after me for a few days before putting me in this Meisjeshuis [children's home]? It’s a blank. Nobody can tell, nobody knows & I have no memories. There's nobody to ask any more & no records. In my understanding my given name would be 'Salomon Weisser'. Subsequently 'Jacques' became my nom de guerre but in the Jewish orphanage, they misspelt my name & got my birth of date wrong. That's why the research has been so hard. In Belgium there were a lot of children that were somehow saved in one shape, form or another. There was quite a decent underground. A lot of them were Jewish communists, including my uncle, Chaim Weisser. He was responsible for Charleroi. His son was also a hidden child. In August 1944 German officials decided to send the last orphans to Malines. The Belgian resistance hid the children instead. Jacques was hidden in the Ardennes with a boy called Bill. Many years later I found the lady who was involved in hiding in me in the Ardennes. I found her name, Mme Wittamer. I managed to make an appointment to see her but she never turned up. I subsequently learnt that she’d married & never told her husband that she’d hidden a child during the war. My father says that when he found me she didn't want to give me up. A lot of them didn't. She wanted to keep this child. He never talked about her either, which again I found subsequently difficult to understand because it was the last step, if you like, in the life story of being alive. The Resistance put me with her in the Ardennes. And, for whatever reason, no information of any kind from any of the family, apart from the fact that they may have met her once. Not from my father, not from my stepmother, not from anybody. That in a way hurts because that would have been [sighs]—it would have been good. To close the circle I suppose. I only know her first name because there is a card that was found. Her name was Wittamer. For many years I had photos of me, I knew it was me but where they came from, where they were taken, I had no idea. One of them gives my name on the back of one of the photos: 'souvenir de Jacqui'. Who wrote it, no idea. There's so many different layers—the puzzle, you know, trying to find the bits & pieces, it’s complicated, complex. Jacques' father was liberated by US soldiers in the forest of Waldenburg. He came to Brussels. In those days “the place to go to” when you came back was the station, always the railway station. There he met somebody he knew who told him: don't bother going to Antwerp, nothing there for you anymore, your wife died, your brother has survived. We believe your son is alive. So my understanding is he found where I was, through the Red Cross. He found me, he says in Virton but maybe in Esch-en-Raphaël, & brought me back to Brussels, met his wife-to-be, my stepmother, & his life carried on from there, as did mine. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Jacques Weisser BEM's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, December 2023 • Learn More → Jacques Weisser BEM Close Family Murdered Finding Out Hidden Child In Hiding Never Finding Out Not Remembering Staying With Strangers Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Belgium Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

963: Experiencing Antisemitism Stella Shinder, Chemnitz, 1934: Stella Shinder Read Full Text Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Home All Memories About Menu Close ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Stella Shinder's interview with Clare Csonka for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, March 2021 • Learn More → Stella Shinder Emigration to Czechoslovakia Not Allowed To Use Swimming Pools Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany See Locations Full Text Stella Shinder, Chemnitz, 1934: It was when I started school at the age of six, that I had my first encounter. I had a little umbrella with red stripes. A little schoolmate of mine said, 'Is that the blood of German babies that the Jews are killing?' I came home to my mother & said, 'Could this be true?' That was my first experience of what was happening. My mother said: 'Absolutely not. This is not true. You must never believe that'. My father had an encounter with a janitor who called him a ‘dirty Jew’. This man had a stick. So my father took the stick & beat him up. There was never any talk about going. Never. It wasn’t until we actually left in July 1938—Friday the 13th—that my mother—we went on our usual holiday to Czechoslovakia. We lived quite near the border & holiday in Karlovy Vary. A beautiful spa in the Sudeten part of Czechoslovakia. When we crossed the border, my mother said to my brother & myself, 'We are never going back'. So that was it. My brother & I were elated. Because we'd already experienced antisemitism. We were thrown out of our schools. We were spat at in the street. We'd experienced antisemitism quite strongly. We weren't allowed to sit on park benches or use swimming pools. So we were very, very happy to leave all that behind. When we were getting ready, I said 'Mummy why are you packing winter stockings on our summer holiday?' She gave me a smack & said, 'Be quiet'. Because we had a cleaning lady working in the flat & she didn’t want her to know that we would never come back again. My father was still in Germany & didn’t want to leave, because we had a beautiful home. He had a business. He didn’t want to leave. My mother wrote to him & said 'If you don’t follow us, you'll never see us again'. So he packed his bag & he had some money in a briefcase. And on the platform at the station he was so nervous he left this bag with the money behind. My poor, poor father. We never saw it again. So he came & joined us. Then we went to live in Prague, where we stayed for six months prior to coming to England. So. Then we had a small flat which we rented in Prague. My brother & I attended a German-speaking school. And of course we were spat at by the Czech children not for being Jewish but because they thought we were Germans. There was a lot of anti-German feeling in Czechoslovakia at that time. We had a letter from my father’s parents who lived in Warsaw at the time to say there was an aunt, my grandfather’s sister, living in England, in London. 'Write to her, get her to, get her to get you a visitor’s visa. Get out of Czechoslovakia because Hitler’s going to come into Czechoslovakia'. So, we were so lucky, we managed to get this visa. My mother arranged for us to fly to England. Crossing Germany would have been dangerous for us, if we'd gone by train. So we took a flight which landed at Brussels & then another flight from Brussels to London. We landed in London on the 6th of December 1938. Croydon Airport. When we left, my mother used to write to—in those days we didn’t all have telephones. She would write to our friends, 'Leave, leave'. And nobody paid any attention. Nobody paid any attention. There was great antisemitism, but nobody could have imagined what finally happened. 963: Experiencing Antisemitism Stella Shinder Edited from Stella Shinder's interview with Clare Csonka for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, March 2021 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Piotrków Trybunalski Ghetto, Poland, 1942. Mala Tribich MBE is 12: Rumours started circulating that there's going to be a deportation. So people were in panic, trying to find ways of saving themselves. Escaping the ghetto into the forests, in the sewers, into the open. Some had friends outside who’d perhaps save one or two members of the family. And there were people who were doing it for money, saving Jews. My father & uncle, Joseph Klein, were introduced to a man from Częstochowa, a beautiful town about an hour & a half away from Piotrków. This man was willing to hide two Jewish girls during the deportations but he was doing it for money. That was a business arrangement. This man actually came from Częstochowa into the ghetto. He was smuggled in. I remember them sitting around the table & discussing things. He was paid in advance & we were to travel to Częstochowa one at a time with him a week apart on false papers. He'd pick me up first then come back for my cousin. But my aunt pleaded with him that since they only had one child & I was one of 3, would they take my cousin first. He said no, insisted on taking me first. So he came back for me & a week later for my cousin. Now, travelling itself was very scary because if you're sitting in a train with a lot of people & if someone looked at me for longer than a few seconds I immediately thought: they're suspecting me of being Jewish. It was really terrifying. There was actually a reward for handing in Jews, so there were people there on the lookout for Jews. It was a scary journey but we both arrived there one at a time & found ourselves in a big house on the outskirts of Częstochowa with a middle-aged couple. The man who made all the arrangements was their son-in-law, who lived around the corner with his wife & child. These people weren’t particularly nice to us but they didn't ill-treat us. They just left us alone. We were very scared. We were supposed to be relatives who'd come to stay from Warsaw – Warsaw because we would be not so easily identified from a large town as a small town. My cousin Idzia was younger than I: she was 11 & I was 12. She was so homesick she couldn't bear it. She wanted to go home & she was told she can’t because the deportations were still happening. But she said that her parents had very good friends in Piotrków who held all her family's valuables who would take her in. So the man said OK, off they went. I still languished there for what felt like a lifetime. It didn't come into question that she could take me too & I wasn't asking to be taken. On one occasion there was an engagement in the family & they took me with. A German soldier was getting engaged to a Polish girl. I was there with all these people & I was terrified. I just hoped they wouldn't ask me any difficult questions. Another time: a boy about my age lived down the road. He befriended me a bit. He said: I want to take you somewhere really interesting. In Częstochowa there is a church with a Madonna who cries & her tears are real pearls that come. He said: it’s a kind of museum, kind of church. I'll take you to see it. I thought: if he takes me into a church, I won’t know how to cross myself. He will soon discover that I’m not Christian. I was really worried but I had no reason to say no, I don't want to go. So, we went & my good luck: the church was closed that day. It was on a Tuesday, I remember that. Eventually it was time for me to go home. I was to meet my father in a flour mill which before the war belonged to him. Now he was lucky to have a job there. When we got there we went up to the attic at the top. We came in & there was my father but also my uncle, Joseph Klein. He looked at us & he went white. He said, where is my daughter? The man said, I brought her back, I took her back to your very good friends. My uncle said, but she's not there. Where is she? What have you done with my child? He repeated it a few times. I remember him vividly pacing with his hands behind his back, looking at the ground & pacing there & back, there & back, saying, what have you done with my child? That's the end of the story, because nobody knows what happened to Idzia till this day. And not knowing is so terrible ’cos you imagine the worst. And I still keep thinking of what have they done with her? Could they have done this or that, or cut her throat or thrown her in the river or – but, you know, bludgeoned her to death or how did – terribly she suffered. I – it’s just something I can’t come to terms with. And of course, her parents, oh, were devastated. What we heard after the war was this: That she arrived at the friends' house with the man, they collected a case of valuables & she left with the man & the case. That's it. That's the end of the story. But the man—he must have done something wrong because he left with Idzia & the case. My aunt said to me: How could anybody kill a child for the sake of a few goods? I would have given him everything I possess if only he had saved her. She never got over it. Once she said to me: My Idzia had to go into the gas chamber by herself. There was nobody to hold her hand. Those were the thoughts & the visions she lived with. 1000: Idzia Mala Tribich MBE Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Previous Memory Next Memory 1000: Idzia ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Mala Tribich MBE Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Mala Tribich MBE's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, September 2023 • Learn More → Mala Tribich MBE Betrayed Ghetto Incarceration Homesick In Hiding Never Finding Out Staying With Strangers Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Poland See Locations Full Text Piotrków Trybunalski Ghetto, Poland, 1942. Mala Tribich MBE is 12: Rumours started circulating that there's going to be a deportation. So people were in panic, trying to find ways of saving themselves. Escaping the ghetto into the forests, in the sewers, into the open. Some had friends outside who’d perhaps save one or two members of the family. And there were people who were doing it for money, saving Jews. My father & uncle, Joseph Klein, were introduced to a man from Częstochowa, a beautiful town about an hour & a half away from Piotrków. This man was willing to hide two Jewish girls during the deportations but he was doing it for money. That was a business arrangement. This man actually came from Częstochowa into the ghetto. He was smuggled in. I remember them sitting around the table & discussing things. He was paid in advance & we were to travel to Częstochowa one at a time with him a week apart on false papers. He'd pick me up first then come back for my cousin. But my aunt pleaded with him that since they only had one child & I was one of 3, would they take my cousin first. He said no, insisted on taking me first. So he came back for me & a week later for my cousin. Now, travelling itself was very scary because if you're sitting in a train with a lot of people & if someone looked at me for longer than a few seconds I immediately thought: they're suspecting me of being Jewish. It was really terrifying. There was actually a reward for handing in Jews, so there were people there on the lookout for Jews. It was a scary journey but we both arrived there one at a time & found ourselves in a big house on the outskirts of Częstochowa with a middle-aged couple. The man who made all the arrangements was their son-in-law, who lived around the corner with his wife & child. These people weren’t particularly nice to us but they didn't ill-treat us. They just left us alone. We were very scared. We were supposed to be relatives who'd come to stay from Warsaw – Warsaw because we would be not so easily identified from a large town as a small town. My cousin Idzia was younger than I: she was 11 & I was 12. She was so homesick she couldn't bear it. She wanted to go home & she was told she can’t because the deportations were still happening. But she said that her parents had very good friends in Piotrków who held all her family's valuables who would take her in. So the man said OK, off they went. I still languished there for what felt like a lifetime. It didn't come into question that she could take me too & I wasn't asking to be taken. On one occasion there was an engagement in the family & they took me with. A German soldier was getting engaged to a Polish girl. I was there with all these people & I was terrified. I just hoped they wouldn't ask me any difficult questions. Another time: a boy about my age lived down the road. He befriended me a bit. He said: I want to take you somewhere really interesting. In Częstochowa there is a church with a Madonna who cries & her tears are real pearls that come. He said: it’s a kind of museum, kind of church. I'll take you to see it. I thought: if he takes me into a church, I won’t know how to cross myself. He will soon discover that I’m not Christian. I was really worried but I had no reason to say no, I don't want to go. So, we went & my good luck: the church was closed that day. It was on a Tuesday, I remember that. Eventually it was time for me to go home. I was to meet my father in a flour mill which before the war belonged to him. Now he was lucky to have a job there. When we got there we went up to the attic at the top. We came in & there was my father but also my uncle, Joseph Klein. He looked at us & he went white. He said, where is my daughter? The man said, I brought her back, I took her back to your very good friends. My uncle said, but she's not there. Where is she? What have you done with my child? He repeated it a few times. I remember him vividly pacing with his hands behind his back, looking at the ground & pacing there & back, there & back, saying, what have you done with my child? That's the end of the story, because nobody knows what happened to Idzia till this day. And not knowing is so terrible ’cos you imagine the worst. And I still keep thinking of what have they done with her? Could they have done this or that, or cut her throat or thrown her in the river or – but, you know, bludgeoned her to death or how did – terribly she suffered. I – it’s just something I can’t come to terms with. And of course, her parents, oh, were devastated. What we heard after the war was this: That she arrived at the friends' house with the man, they collected a case of valuables & she left with the man & the case. That's it. That's the end of the story. But the man—he must have done something wrong because he left with Idzia & the case. My aunt said to me: How could anybody kill a child for the sake of a few goods? I would have given him everything I possess if only he had saved her. She never got over it. Once she said to me: My Idzia had to go into the gas chamber by herself. There was nobody to hold her hand. Those were the thoughts & the visions she lived with. 1000: Idzia Mala Tribich MBE Adapted from Mala Tribich MBE's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, September 2023 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

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