The Brothers of Auschwitz by Malka Adler

Author:Malka Adler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2019-10-14T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Dov

The monastery was good for me.

At night they gave us chocolate to get us to go to sleep. We didn’t want to go to sleep. We’d wander round the room, the yard, the room, sit on the beds, lie down in our clothes. Get up. Start conversations, drop them in the middle, go back to them. There was one fellow who after ten turns in the yard would stand next to the wall, and boom-trach he’d bang his head against the wall. He was given a whole bar of chocolate. At first he refused to eat it. He said to the soldier, you first. He was certain the chocolate was poisoned. There was one who sat with us in the yard every morning and plucked out his eyebrows with his nails. He went from the eyebrows to the eyelashes. Finished with the eyelashes and went on to the hair on his chest. He’d take hold of a handful of hair on his chest and hop, pull it out with the skin. Disgusting. Then he’d throw up his hand with the piece of skin, as if he was flying a plane, mmm. mmm. mmm. He’d call us to watch. The soldiers dabbed on blue iodine, put on a large bandage and cleaned under his nails. Then they brought scissors and cut his nails. In the meantime one soldier with a braid down to her ass quietly, quietly sang him a song. I heard it. He’d go, mmm. mmm. mmm. And lick a candy. Don’t know where the soldiers got so much candy. They had a store of candies in their pockets. They’d thrust candies at us at every opportunity. For instance, if they found a wet bed in the morning. Sometimes they found three-four wet beds at a time. Mainly after nights with barking dogs. Some fellows go into a frenzy if a soldier even unintentionally touches them, on the elbow for instance. One fellow locked himself in the shower and stood under the shower for a whole day because a soldier touched his shoulder. They shouted through the window, Moishe, open up, open up. Only that night did he agree to come out.

We barely spoke among ourselves at the monastery.

They spoke a bit about home. A bit about the village, the town. We didn’t ask questions. Most of the day we’d follow the nuns around to see what was happening and what the plans were and I was uneasy because of the large dresses they wore. I didn’t want anyone to see what was going through my mind and, by everyone else’s gestures, I realized that they, too, didn’t want anyone to see what was going through their minds. There was one fellow who liked to follow the fattest nun. She had a wide pleated dress. He used to hide behind the trees and run after her, his back bowed. He was certain she was hiding grenades or a little Kalashnikov under her dress. He’d say, why does she

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