that she didnât want me around. No reason, she just didnât want me there while they were eating dinner. Furthermore, she didnât want me sleeping in their house that night. The old man was aghast. He tried to reason with her, pointing out that I was a nice, quiet girl who never made any trouble. I had already stayed there several weeks, paying them good money every night. I hadnât asked to share their dinner. Why was she getting upset? She had never made a fuss before. Why was she complaining now? The old woman turned on the old man. She didnât want me sitting there, she shouted. She didnât want me sleeping there. She wanted me outâ¦now! So out I went.
Confused, angry, but not daring to protest, I put on my coat and hat and left the apartment. I considered my prospects. Where was I to go now? How could I possibly find another bed at this time of night, especially on Christmas Eve? I didnât dare even look for one. It was past eight oâclock and to be caught on the street after curfew with nowhere to go was a death sentence. Everyone in Poland had a home or a family to go to on Christmas. Who didnât have homes? Who didnât have families? Only Jews.
Not knowing what else to do, I climbed up to the third floor, to the attic staircase, and waited. I sat by the attic door for what seemed like an hour, but when I looked at my watch the minute hand had hardly moved. Time passes slowly when a whole night lies ahead of you. It was a little after nine and very cold. I was freezing. The cold cut right through my coat as I shivered in the shadows, hugging the walls, praying that no one would find me and give me away.
Minutes passed like hours. Sitting, waiting, I lost track of time. Suddenly I heard footsteps trampling up the stairs. I pressed myself against the wall. But no one came. The echoing footsteps died down, and soon everything was quiet. But I now realized that my hiding place was a trap. The attic door was locked. There was no way to escape in an emergency. I had to move on. I waited quietly for several minutes, then carefully made my way down the stairs to the courtyard.
The courtyard was dark. Still, the spirit of Christmas permeated the frosty evening. As I looked up, I could see Christmas candles burning in every apartment window. There were the beautifully decorated crèches and Christmas trees adorning every home. In the distance I heard church bells ringing and the faint sound of choirs singing Christmas carols: âPeace on earth, good will toward men.â But not for Jews, I thought. As I stood in that dark, empty courtyard, a hunted animal wondering where to hide, a heavy, wet snow began to fall. Soon my hat and coat were soaked, the damp cold penetrating to my very bones. Shivering in the darkness as church bells rang out all over the city, I thought about Christian love, Christian charity. I thought of Joseph, Mary, and the Infant Jesus. What if those three Jews had come into Kraków on the train that night, looking for shelter? Would all those Masses, bells, carols, trees, andcandles do them any good? Hardly. The best they could hope for was to be thrown out into the snow like I was. More likely those holy hypocrites filling the churches would turn them over to the Germans. That night, all over Poland, there were Jews like me, desperately seeking shelter. But the inn was full. The well of human kindness was empty. Every door was slammed in our faces. And all the while, the church bells rang.
Then in one corner of the courtyard I noticed a large garbage bin set against the wall, but not flush against it. There was a yardâs space in betweenânot much, but enough for me to hide. I opened the iron lid and leaned it against the wall. That would give me shelter from the snow. Also, if someone came downstairs to throw away some garbage, he could just throw it in the bin and go away. Heâd be much less likely to see me than if he had to fumble with
Confused, angry, but not daring to protest, I put on my coat and hat and left the apartment. I considered my prospects. Where was I to go now? How could I possibly find another bed at this time of night, especially on Christmas Eve? I didnât dare even look for one. It was past eight oâclock and to be caught on the street after curfew with nowhere to go was a death sentence. Everyone in Poland had a home or a family to go to on Christmas. Who didnât have homes? Who didnât have families? Only Jews.
Not knowing what else to do, I climbed up to the third floor, to the attic staircase, and waited. I sat by the attic door for what seemed like an hour, but when I looked at my watch the minute hand had hardly moved. Time passes slowly when a whole night lies ahead of you. It was a little after nine and very cold. I was freezing. The cold cut right through my coat as I shivered in the shadows, hugging the walls, praying that no one would find me and give me away.
Minutes passed like hours. Sitting, waiting, I lost track of time. Suddenly I heard footsteps trampling up the stairs. I pressed myself against the wall. But no one came. The echoing footsteps died down, and soon everything was quiet. But I now realized that my hiding place was a trap. The attic door was locked. There was no way to escape in an emergency. I had to move on. I waited quietly for several minutes, then carefully made my way down the stairs to the courtyard.
The courtyard was dark. Still, the spirit of Christmas permeated the frosty evening. As I looked up, I could see Christmas candles burning in every apartment window. There were the beautifully decorated crèches and Christmas trees adorning every home. In the distance I heard church bells ringing and the faint sound of choirs singing Christmas carols: âPeace on earth, good will toward men.â But not for Jews, I thought. As I stood in that dark, empty courtyard, a hunted animal wondering where to hide, a heavy, wet snow began to fall. Soon my hat and coat were soaked, the damp cold penetrating to my very bones. Shivering in the darkness as church bells rang out all over the city, I thought about Christian love, Christian charity. I thought of Joseph, Mary, and the Infant Jesus. What if those three Jews had come into Kraków on the train that night, looking for shelter? Would all those Masses, bells, carols, trees, andcandles do them any good? Hardly. The best they could hope for was to be thrown out into the snow like I was. More likely those holy hypocrites filling the churches would turn them over to the Germans. That night, all over Poland, there were Jews like me, desperately seeking shelter. But the inn was full. The well of human kindness was empty. Every door was slammed in our faces. And all the while, the church bells rang.
Then in one corner of the courtyard I noticed a large garbage bin set against the wall, but not flush against it. There was a yardâs space in betweenânot much, but enough for me to hide. I opened the iron lid and leaned it against the wall. That would give me shelter from the snow. Also, if someone came downstairs to throw away some garbage, he could just throw it in the bin and go away. Heâd be much less likely to see me than if he had to fumble with
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