Lale knew all Jews in Slovakia had been ordered to wear the yellow Star of David on their clothing when out in public. He had refused. Not out of fear. But because he saw himself as a Slovakian: proud, stubborn and even, he conceded, arrogant about his place in the world. His being Jewish was incidental and had never before interfered with what he did and who he befriended. If it came up in conversation, he acknowledged it and moved on. It was not a defining trait for him. It was a matter discussed more often in the bedroom than in a restaurant or club.
In February 1942, he was given advance warning that the German Foreign Ministry had requested that the Slovakian government begin transporting Jews out of the country as a source of labour. He requested leave to visit his family, which was granted, and was told he could return to his position in the party at any time – that his job there was secure.
He never considered himself naive. Like so many living in Europe at that time, he was worried about the rise of Hitler and the horrors that the Führer was inflicting on other small nations, but he couldn’t accept that the Nazis would invade Slovakia. They didn’t need to. The government was giving them what they wanted, when they wanted it, and posed no threat. Slovakia just wanted to be left alone. At dinners and at gatherings with family and friends they sometimes discussed the reports of Jewish persecution in other countries, but they did not consider that, as a group, Slovakian Jews were particularly at risk.
•
And yet here he is now. Two years have passed. He lives in a community largely split into two – Jewish and Romani – identified by their race, not their nationality, and this is something Lale still cannot understand. Nations threaten other nations. They have the power, they have the military. How can a race spread out across multiple countries be considered a threat? For as long as he lives, be it short or long, he knows he will never comprehend this.
Chapter 19
‘Have you lost your faith?’ Gita asks, as she leans back into Lale’s chest at their place behind the administration building. She has chosen this moment to ask the question as she wants to hear his response, not see it.
‘Why do you ask?’ he says, stroking the back of her head.
‘Because I think you have,’ she says, ‘and that saddens me.’
‘Then clearly you haven’t?’
‘I asked first.’
‘Yes, I think I have.’
‘When?’
‘The first night I arrived here. I told you what happened, what I saw. How any merciful god could let that happen, I don’t know. And nothing has happened since that night to change my mind. Quite the opposite.’
‘You have to believe in something.’
‘I do. I believe in you and me and getting out of here, and making a life together where we can –’
‘I know, whenever and wherever we want.’ She sighs. ‘Oh, Lale, if only.’
Lale turns her around to face him.
‘I will not be defined by being a Jew,’ he says. ‘I won’t deny it, but I am a man first, a man in love with you.’
‘And if I want to keep my faith? If it is still important to me?’
‘I have no say in that.’
‘Yes, you do.’
They fall into an uneasy silence. He watches her, her eyes downcast.
‘I have no problem with you keeping your faith,’ says Lale gently. ‘In fact, I will encourage your faith if it means a lot to you and keeps you by my side. When we leave here, I will encourage you to practise your faith, and when our babies come along, they can follow their mother’s faith. Does that satisfy you?’
‘Babies? I don’t know if I will be able to have children. I think I’m screwed up inside.’
‘Once we leave here and I can fatten you up a little, we will have babies, and they will be beautiful babies; they will take after their mother.’
‘Thank you, my love. You make me want to believe in a future.’
‘Good. Does that mean you will tell me your surname and where you come from?’
‘Not yet. I told you, on the day we leave this place. Please don’t ask me again.’
•
After parting from Gita, Lale seeks out Leon and a few others from Block 7. It’s a beautiful summer’s day and he intends to enjoy the sun and his friends while he can. They sit against the wall of one of the blocks. Their conversation is simple. At the sound of the siren, Lale says his goodbyes and makes his way back to his block. As he nears the building he senses something is wrong. The Romani children stand around, not running to meet him, but stepping aside as he walks by. He greets them, but they don’t respond. He understands why immediately when he opens the door to his room. Displayed on his bed are the gems and currency from under his mattress. Two SS officers are waiting.
‘Care to explain this, Tätowierer?’
Lale can find no words.
One of the officers snatches Lale’s bag from his hands and empties his tools and ink bottles onto the floor. Then they put the bounty into the bag. With pistols drawn they face Lale squarely and motion for him to move. The children stand aside as Lale is marched out of the Gypsy camp for what he believes will be the last time.
•
Lale stands in front of Houstek, the contents of his bag spread out over the Oberscharführer’s desk.
Houstek picks up and examines each precious stone and piece of jewellery, one at a time. ‘Where did you get all this?’ he asks, not looking up.
‘Prisoners gave it to me.’
‘Which prisoners?’
‘I do not know their names.’
Houstek looks up at Lale, sharp. ‘You don’t know who gave you all this?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘I’m meant to believe that?’
‘Yes, sir. They bring it to me, but I do not ask them their names.’
Houstek slams his fist on the desk, causing the gems to jangle.
‘This makes me very angry, Tätowierer. You are good at your job. Now I will have to find someone else to do it.’ He turns to the escorting officers. ‘Take him to Block 11. He’ll soon remember the names there.’
Lale is marched out and placed in a truck. Two SS officers sit either side of him, each ramming a pistol into his ribs. During the four-kilometre drive Lale silently says goodbye to Gita and the future they were just imagining. Closing his eyes, he mentally says the names of each of his family members. He cannot picture his siblings as clearly as he used to. His mother he can see perfectly. But how do you say goodbye to your mother? The person who gave you breath, who taught you how to live? He cannot say goodbye to her. He gasps as his father’s image comes before him, causing one of the officers to push his pistol harder into his ribs. The last time he saw his father he was crying. He doesn’t want this to be how he remembers him, so he searches for another image and comes up with his father working with his beloved horses. He always spoke so warmly to them in contrast to the way he expressed himself to his children. Lale’s brother Max, older and wiser. He tells him he hopes he hasn’t let him down, that he has tried to act as Max would have in his place. When he thinks of his little sister, Goldie, the pain is too much.