In the Unlikeliest of Places by Annette Libeskind Berkovits

Author:Annette Libeskind Berkovits
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wilfrid Laurier University Press
Published: 2014-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Part 2

Purgatory

Chapter Five

Return to his beloved city and a joyous reunion with his loved ones was an image that lit up behind Nachman’s eyelids each and every single night throughout his seven years on the run. The nights he had curled up in cold, dusty barns, or tossed on bug-infested bunks in Opalicha and Lapushka with hunger twisting his guts, on moonless nights made darker by the prospect of a knock by the NKVD on the door—through all those long nights one thought kept him going: This will end one day and a better day will come.

Thoughts of home often turned way back to his days with friends at the Medem School: making stage sets for plays, rehearsing the musical program, and later attending political rallies. The teachers who were like family came to mind too, especially Liza Holtzman and that unforgettable letter she sent from Paris. Sometimes he wondered if ever there would come a time when he could pick up a brush and paint, but the idea seemed so farfetched that it embarrassed him to even think it.

Letters had always been a source of excitement for Nachman. Each unopened envelope carried a whiff of romance, news of births, weddings, visits by friends from distant cities. He always held a letter an extra moment before opening it trying to imagine the good tidings inside. So when the postman knocked on his door in Kyzyl Kyia shortly before his and Dora’s departure from the Soviet Union, Nachman was thrilled. All those years without any news of family and now they found him!

And what an embarrassment of riches: not one letter, but three and four postcards!

“Spasiba, spasiba,” Nachman thanked the postman profusely. The two men stood for a moment looking at one another, Nachman overwhelmed, the postman watching the reaction caused by his delivery. Nachman shuffled through the cards and noted that one was dated 9 June 1940. It was in Natan’s familiar tiny handwriting, each letter like a tiny black insect trying to stand up on its hind legs. Another was from Jadwiga. His heart leaped. How many nights have I dreamed about her in Opalicha?

“Why did it take six years to get this correspondence to me?” Nachman stopped scanning the package of mail and spoke to the man.

The postman laughed. “Did you think they’d give you your mail in the gulag? You were lucky if they gave you a piece of bread.” So that’s why he hadn’t heard from anyone all these years, he reflected. How strange that someone even bothered to forward this mail to him now.

“But how did they know where I am?” Nachman mused out loud.

“The NKVD knows everything,” the postman said, then he hoisted the mail sack onto his shoulder and left, leaving a trail of insinuation behind. For all I know he is an NKVD agent himself, Nachman thought and went inside to revel in his treasure. First, he scanned Natan’s card from Warsaw. It was good to know that at least back then Natan was well, if a bit bored.

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