The young people want to know.

From Yom Hashoa to Yom Haazmut 2008

Spring time for the last 20 years, always brings a great number of speaking engagements for me with it, but this year topped it all.
Within the short span of two weeks I spoke to 12 different groups and in addition to participating at four memorial services.
It started on Sunday April 27. 2008, a week before Yom Hashoa. An educational officer had heard me speak in Yad Vashem to a group of "Birthright", was very impressed and invited me to her unit, to speak to officers and soldiers in Tel Aviv in the “Kirya”, our military headquarters. To flesh out the story I use my power point projection, which helps my listeners to follow in my footsteps as I talk about “A Jewish Family” my family.
Monday I was invited to the grant opening of the new exhibition “This is my Home” in Yad Vashem. It shows the contribution of Shoa Survivors to the building up of the State of Israel.

It certainly is an exhibition well worse while to visit.
Tuesday lunchtime I spoke to students of the Jeshiva in the Fuchsberg center for Conservative Judaism and in the evening to some 30 youngsters of their youth movement “Noam” in East Talpiot.
Wednesday morning the Evelyn de Rothshild school for religious girls in Rechavia near my home, invited me, as they had done a couple of years ago, to speak to some 200 pupils aged 14-15.
In the afternoon the “Lindenbaum Michlala”, a study center for religious girls from America invited me to talk the present group. They have been in contact with me ever since the group in 2002 joined the crowd at the funeral of my grandson who fell in the fighting in Je’nin on Yom Hashoa.
On the eve of Yom Hashoa I joined the annual ceremony in Yad Vashem. Thousands of people braved the bitter cold, but would not miss to listen to the torch lighters telling their tale.
Early next morning on Yom Hashoa I was taken together with half a dozen other speakers to the Jerusalem Forest, where Bne-Brith and the Jewish National Fund (KKL) had invited several hundred pupils and soldiers for their annual Yom Hashoa ceremony. This year the theme was JRJ Jews Rescue Jews during the Shoa, something which is always part of my story.
As soon as I got there even before the ceremony started I spoke to a group of recruits from the border police. I asked for the loan of one of the soldiers to accompany me up and down on the hilly territory.
There was a class of deaf pupils, with a sign language interpreter, who lost patience during the long speeches. I took them aside and with the help of print outs of my regular projection and the sign language, they were delighted to understand the story and thereby feel part of it all.
After the speeches were over I talked to a group of girls aged 14-15 from a religious school in Ashdod who did not want to miss the opportunity.

After a short break at home I was of to Yad Vashem, where a group of over a hundred Military Police soldiers were waiting to listen to me.
In the evening I participated at a short creative writing workshop in “Amcha”, the result of which you have just read.

Sunday of the following week it was a large group of “Birthright “ I spoke to in Yad Vashem.
Monday a school for religious girls aged 11-13 invited me to kick of the week of celebration "60 Years the State of Israel".
I prepared a special power point presentation “60 Years ago”, that tells the tale from the Balfour declaration, Zionist Youth Movement, Hachshara, Aliya, Athlit Detention Camp, Kibbutz, setting up a new Kibbutz “Choma Umigdal” (Watchtower and Fence), UN Partition Plan, War of Independence, Declaration of the State of Israel, mass immigration,

Maaberot (Tent Cities), “Zena”(Austerity) and building up of the country.

Although the girls were very young they listened carefully and asked relevant questions.

In the evening a group of German pilgrims waited for me in a Hotel in the old city. They had previously visited Palestinian cities in the West Bank and were pretty amazed to hear my story. It all was new to them.

Tuesday evening my son took me to Ramat Rachel to participate at the memorial service on the eve of Remembrance Day for fallen soldiers from the War of Independence, as well as my grandson who fell in 2002 fighting in Je’nin.

Wednesday was the highlight of my recent activities.

For a couple of month Or and Shachar, two pupils from the school of “Science and Art” had visited me once a week collecting information of what it was like 60 years ago. They listened to my stories, searched in the inter-net and scanned photos. With that and the addition of a petrol stove, petrol lamp and Wonder Pot that I lend them, they put up a very impressive exhibition.
Wednesday early in the morning I arrived at the school, was received and made welcome by Or and Shachar. For the celebration of the Day of Independence their school had invited me to talk to some 200 of their pupils from the upper classes with my special prepared power point presentation. I had a very captive audience.

Thurday was Independence Day.
Two weeks packed full with advantures.

I have now returned to my normal schedule.

Pesach - a great occasion for a family gathering

Comes Tu Beshvat (the new year of the trees), the beginning of spring and the first signs of the reawakening in nature I ask my sons where will we celebrate Pesach this year.
For 40 years, as long as my husband was alive and we lived in Haifa, it was self-understood that for the Pesach Seder the whole family gathers in our place to hold the traditional Seder, reading the Hagada from beginning to end. Guests were always present, my sister and brother and their families, friends of the family or students from Africa or Asia. It was up to me to make sure that everything will be just right, as it was my mother’s duty in her time.
I have very vivid memories of Pesach at home, like the anticipation, the preparations, the Seder evening with its melodies, the hiding of the Afikomen, without which the Seder can’t be completed and many other details.
It was the last day of Pesach 1939 that I left home. I have never missed a Seder since. By now I am just an onlooker, the next generation has taken over. We all get together.
This year my children decided to hold the Seder out of doors, under a giant Oak tree. Four generations gathered, all three of my children and their families.
They spread out mats and mattresses to sit upon and everybody contributed and brought some food along. I made a big pot of vegetable soup, as some of the grandchildren are vegetarians and brought a big pile of washed lettuce leaves which were quickly consumed.
My task as a tribe eldest and as in all previous years, was to prepare the traditional Seder Plate with the roasted Bone and roasted Egg in memory of the sacrifice at Temple times, the Petrosilia to dip in Saltwater when saying for the blessing over what the earth brings force, the Charoset (grated apples with blanched and chopped almonds, honey and a drop of wine) in memory of the clay blocks that the children of Israel had to make in Egypt, the Lettuce leaves to hold the Horse-reddish (bitter Herbs) to remind us of the bitterness of slavery. All that sits on three covered Matzot, (unleavened bread quickly backed).

The middle Matze is broken in half early on during the ceremony and sat aside as Afikomen for later. The children quietly steal and hide it. Who ever is the master of ceremony, in order to continue, has to redeem it against a bag of nuts or other presents.
Danny, my son, was the mastermind, let everybody know where and when we would meet and how to get there, informed them as to which part he or she had to play, and started the reading of the Hagada, the tale of the exodus of the children of Israel from Egypt, from slavery to freedom.
Each one of us was asked what freedom or to be free means for him or her, what it means to be here or what we wish for our future.
Me feeling of freedom goes back to the day I came on Aliya, that means when I arrived in Erez Israel. Since then I call myself Ester, Ursula I left behind me.
A great joy for me was to be together with all three of my children, many of my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. To be part of a four-generation family makes me happy. I see it as a great achievement and gives me a feeling of belonging and continuity.
Today is the last day of Pesach. It is 69 years ago that I left home. On that day my father handed to me a Hagada, which was already read by his great-grandfather and we still read from it year after year.

"Trust"

Israel/Palestine Center for Research and Information- IPCRI
held in Tantur on 11-12 April 2008 a Peace Education Conference

Participants came from many different places and religions, different ages and different walks of life.
There were more than 45 presentations and several workshops, among them one about “Trust” given by Elana Rosenman and myself, which was well attended.

Dialogue can take place only on the basis of mutual trust.

In pairs each person was given 3 minutes to talk about a personal experience, while the other listened without comments and after 3 minutes they switched over and the talker became the listener. It is amazing how much one can convey when there is a compassionate listener.

After that we split up into two smaller groups to allow input for everybody on the subject: “What is helpful in building trust?” From the dialogue in the small group came the following remarks:

To limit expectations, patience, putting things in a positive way, work against prejudice, protection, finding the balance between tensions, somebody who is close to you, you have to trust yourself, you have to be a trustworthy person yourself, self confidence, trust starts from birth, to be courageous, to take risk, we cannot change the world.

At the closing circle of the workshop participants were asked to give just one word, any word, what trust means to them.

Comfort, truth, revelation, construction, respect, faith, connection, honest, helping, affirmation, dignity, love, openness, personal, no fear, building, compassion, bravery, integrity, return, forgiveness, life, acceptance, sympathy, consistency, diversity.

Elana Rosenman is the founder and I am a cofounder of “Trust-Emun” a new Israeli nonprofit organization committed to building mutual trust and understanding through innovative person-to-person activity in our region.

This is just one of many other time consuming but gratifying activities of mine.

Expectation

Expectations are something that I am not sure of, where to fit them in.
Can I expect something or anything of anybody or may be only of myself?
It is up to me to live up to my own expectations.
If necessary, I have to change my attitude towards something or somebody in order to live up to my own expectations.
My question is, can I expect something from the other, just because that is something that I might have done in his or her place?
My answer is no, a definite “no”.
What I do or how I behave is entirely up to me. But why should I expect the same behavior of the other?
When I encounter the other, I do so for the sake of the encounter. I want to get to know him or her, hear his or her views, but at the same time remain myself, just as he or she does. The fact that we meet does not mean that the other or myself have to change our attitudes or our views nor his or her behavior..

The behavior of the other may be the last thing that I expected of him or her. But I am not responsible for the behavior of the other.

In other words, expectations I should turn inwards, towards myself, but not towards the other.

A remarkable recovery.

February 2008

Major surgery is major surgery at any age. Recuperation takes its time. To be back at a normal routine within a month of a complicated major surgery is remarkable for my age. There is no doubt that Danny’s devoted care-taking is a major factor, as was my urge to regain autonomy and independence for myself, which helped to speed up my recovery.

Thursday the 10th if January 2008 was the operation. The first couple of days were very frustrating. Lying in bed and not being able to move, I was totally depending on Danny’s help. I could not even turn from side to side.
Once the doctor told me on the third day to sit up it was easier said than done. Danny came to my help. He supported and encouraged me. The same when I was told to walk around. The first few steps felt like hell. I was so weak that I could hardly make it back to the bed. Danny got me up again and again. By Tuesday I started to drink with Danny's help, Wednesday I got liquid food and on the fifths day I asked Danny to bring along my walker. I wanted to try and get about by myself. Which was just as well. The doctor was pleased with my recovery.
Thursday, a mere week after the operation the doctor told us that I could go home. I hardly believed my ears. Danny got all the paperwork done and everything ready, came with the 4X4 jeep and brought me home to my own bed. Debby had prepared some soup and applesauce for me.
By evening I was on my own. Pretty scared, but brave enough to want to weather it some way or another. Early next morning Danny was there to take me to the shower, I washed my hair and he helped to get dressed. It being Friday he told me to dress warm and took me for the usual Friday night dinner to his house.
For the next few days he came morning, noon and night, encouraged me, joked with me and took me out for a walk, often for a second one in the afternoon or evening, each time increasing the distance a bit more.

Love and care, family and friends are all important ingredients to get well and for successful aging. But without meaning to ones life, a purpose in life, a goal, a target or an aim, call it what you want, it is difficult to master daily life and especially so in old age. Having grown up on my own, a motherless daughter from age 15, setting an aim for myself was always paramount. For one thing I always wanted to please my mother, and in spite of my age this is still the driving force in my life.

While in hospital I read Two Lives by Vikram Seith. One of the two lives is about a Jewish refugee woman whose old mother was send to Theresienstadt. It so happened that while I lay there in my clean hospital bed, getting all the latest and best treatment available, I read in this book a description about the hospital in Theresienstadt.
I thought to myself, who am I to complain, while living in such luxury, with excellent surgeons and the most modern equipment available and my son taking such good care of all my needs.
It spurned me on to make the best of it. My thoughts went back and forth.
When my father was in hospital in Theresienstadt, my mother took the best care possible of him, but there was lack of everything, hygiene, medical equipment, there were no medicaments available, my father just died. My mother could not even bury him, for that was not allowed. She was left all alone for many months until she was send to Auschwitz to her death. I was not there to take care of her. My mother had send all three of us children away so that we should live and be spared the hardships that she seemed to know that lay ahead.

I felt that out of respect to my mother I had to get better quick and get back to my old routine. I had so much to live for. I have my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. There is still a lot I can contribute to my surrounding.

Within the first week of being home the volunteer from ASF (Aktion Suehne Zeichen) came to visit me and the television channel 2 wanted to make a report on his work with Shoa survivors. Although still weak, I agreed. They filmed for over an hour, but in the end showed a very short version of a few minutes only. A number of friends phoned to say that they saw me on television.
A couple of days later I gave a talk at my home to a group of older volunteers from ASF who are here for 3-6 month to work in various institutions for the old or handicapped.
The two eleven grade pupils that I had been meeting on a weekly basis turned up as usual and we carried on our work about the first decades of Statehood towards their presentation in school on the 60th anniversary of the State of Israel.
The phone kept ringing and Yad Vashem asked if could give a talk to a group of youngsters. There were other phone calls and a number of visitors.
My children and all my grandchildren turned up, as did some of my great-grandchildren. All that cheered me up. I felt that I had to live up to their expectation of being myself again. It was not always easy, but soon I got the hang of it all. Day by day I got more independent, do my housekeeping, shop and cook for myself.

A month after the operation and I am back to my regular routine of daily life and being able to participate in all the activities that I had been involved in before.

These include active participation in several groups of Inter-faith encounters, being a member of the steering committee of the once weekly old age club of the Irgun Oleh Mercas Europa, giving talks to various groups on different subjects, preparing papers for presentation at conferences, writing articles that are being published in journals, taking part in meetings of groups that I belong too and of course my extended worldwide e.mail correspondence.

A subject that most interest me these days is the research into successfull aging. Sometimes, after I tell the story of a Jewish family, my Family Chronicle and people asked about what I do these days and I mention this. Today I recieved a parcel. A kind person from Germany searched for and send me a couple of books on this subject.

One of them is The Art of Aging by Riemann & Kleespies 2007. I already read half of the book. I find the insight shown by the authors facinating. More about that next time.

A month later.

My belly was so swollen that it looked as if I was in the tenth month of pregnancy, which at my age of 84 was not very likely.

A visit to the doctor brought with it a lot more visits, tests and examinations of all sorts. They found out that I had cancerous growths in my abdomen. I urgently needed major surgery.
On the 10th of January 2008 I lay on the table in the operation theater and a team of doctors labored for five and a half hours to remove eight and a half kilogram, great lumps of growth as well as jelly like liquate.

Whereas before the operation I weight 70 kg, I now weigh a mere 54 kg.

Danny, my son, looked after me before and after the operation, he helped me sit up when told by the doctor to do so and walked me up and down the corridor as ordered.

A week after the operation we were told that he could take me home. Weak as I was, he kept me on my toes, walked with me, brought me food and in short, he was the best caretaker I could have hoped for.
In my absence my apartment was broken in. Not that the burglar found much aside from my ring, a golden necklace a couple of hundred Shekel, but he empty out all my shelves and drawers. I could not find a thing. Day by day I labored to put things right again. It gave me something to do.
My children, all my grandchildren and some of my great-grandchildren visited me, as well as a number of well - wishers and friends.
Within a month of the operation I am back to my old routine, do my shopping and cooking, started to give talks again to youth groups at home and at Yad Vashem.
Doctors are amazed at my quick recovery.
It is obviously a combination of good care on Danny’s side as well as my ardent wish to regain my autonomy and independency.
If there is a purpose to life I have to give it a chance. I have to have an aim to live up to. As long as I can, I feel that I want to give rather than take. I am glad that I can still contribute in different ways. My social engagement means a lot to me.

A visit to the doctor.

Sunday 2. December 2007 after a visit to the doctor.

Growing old is complicated. Living on my own makes it even more so. To have to depend on somebody is a great problem for me. From a very young age I had to make my own decisions and live by its consequences for better or for worth. As a result I am how I am, as independent as is possible. I do what I can for myself and only ask for help from my son when it is absolutely necessary.
Of late this has become more frequent and that is very upsetting for me. The last thing I want is to be dependent on somebody, to be a burden to my son.
I seem to have reached the limit of my autonomy.
Lately my strength seemed to ebb from week to week. Everything hurts me. My knees have been hurting for a long time, both the one that have been replaced as well as the other one. My belly seems to have grown while I actually lost weight. It is tense and hurts when I walk.
A couple of weeks ago I spoke briefly to my grandson about it. He has finished medical school and is doing his specializing in Internal Medicine. His one and only question was if my doctor had examined my belly. That rang a bell.
Last Sunday 25th of November 2007 I went to see him. He immediately sent me for a CT and said it was urgent and he made every effort to get all the paperwork done as quickly as possible for me.
Monday 26th November I did a blood test.
Thursday 29th November I went for the CT test. I had to fast 4 hours ahead of it and then every 20 minutes for 3 hours to drink some preparation. My son came along and helped me. At the end I was pretty exhausted.
Friday 30th November I brought the CD with the results to my doctor.
Today Sunday 2nd of December 2007 I went to see him. In my blood test there is an indication that there might be cancer cells somewhere and he rung up an Oncologist in the Share Zedek Hospital. Tomorrow at 9 o’clock in the morning I have to go there. Again he is doing all the paperwork for me to speed it up.
I asked, how will I manage? I live on my own. How will I cope?

I phoned my son Danny. He said: “But Mum, you knew that there is something wrong with you. This is not new. I will take you to the hospital tomorrow”
I was close to tears.
It is always Danny who is there for me. I told him that that was my greatest worry. It is always Danny and Danny, again and again who sits with me, looks after me and helps me.
His reply was: “ When I was small you looked after me. When I will grow old my sons will look after me. Now I will look after you.”
I try hard to hold back my tears. I hope to keep my wits about me and be as little bother to him as possible. Will I manage that?

Meeting people.

Young people from Germany come to Israel for a year to work as volunteers with handy-caped children, old people or in various other social settings.
I am in touch with two of the bigger organizations, 25 –40 people each, “Hagoshrim”, (“Bridge Builders”), and “ASF” (“Action Reconciliation and Peace Work”) and am a member of their “Circle of Friends”.

These are young men and women, just having finished school, wanting to get a taste of the big world. Some of the boys among them do it as their Civil Service instead of military service in their country.
They are part of a greater contingent of some 600 volunteers from Germany belonging to many different organizations, working in places like Kfar Raphael, Sheckel, French Hospital, Ilan, Akim, the Leo Baeck Institue , Yad Vashem and other places of work in different parts of the country.

The 5th of December is the international day for Volunteers. That would be as good a time as any for them to make contact with the local school to introduce themselves and their organization. Volunteerism is what young people of both countries have in common. Communicating with each other on common ground is important aspect to foster good relations among the present young generation complementing the official diplomatic relations.

Many of them come here with preconceived ideas about Israel, based on what the media brings across. Some come to get close to the conflict. Being young and inexperienced they think that they know it all and can tell us what we should do to solve our problems.
It does not take long for them to find out that life in Israel has its own pace, different from what they were used to at home, life goes on, difficult times or not and can be interesting and meaningful for them in spite of the hard work that some of them have to perform. They soon learn to adjust to the local scene.
Some, in addition to their other tasks, pay regular visits to several old people and find that of great interest. One of them visits me once a week for a couple of hours. He takes me for a walk and we talk together about his work in Yad Vashem, and I use him as a sounding board for some of my writings.
Whenever a new group arrives, these organizations call on me to give a talk, to tell The Story of my Family or about our Jewish Holidays. Those that want to hear more, come to visit me.

Occasional I write an article for their paper, or speak for groups that visit them in Jerusalem.
That way I meet interesting people and keep in touch with the young generation.

Filling time

Well, nothing much has happened lately.
That is not really true. It is just that nothing magnificent has accrued.
I try hard to fill my day- to- day routine and to find something to do every day.
Sometimes it is like filling time, more often like killing time.
The more one gets involved in reading about aging, the more depressed one can get.

Body and Mind – are they two entities or do they belong together, or should they compensate the other according to need?
Philosophies seem to differ vastly on this aspect. A few citations from a book, ed. by Yitzhak Brink (2005) Poverty and Aging.
Ruthenberg points out in his essay: If the body fails does that mean that the mind fails?
Freud, Darwin and Marx put forward theories that the strong young have to get rid of the weak old.
The culture of the poor sees old as belonging to the poor.
Israel Doron sees poverty as a threat to Justice and decency.

One can see poverty among the old not only as materiel poverty, but also as poverty of the mind, that is, unless the old take matters into their own hands.
If you have a mind of your own use it, even in old age or better said especially in old age.
Don’t rely on society to do something for you when you grow old. The older you get the more important it is to become the master of your own destiny.

Filling time (using the mind) is always better than killing time (poverty of mind).

Within the last couple of weeks I have taken part at a number of events. Some 2000 people from all over the country came to Binyane Hauma in Jerusalem to participated and share “20 Years Amcha”.

Amcha is taking psycho-social care of over 10 000 Shoa Survivors and Second Generation, in the various branches all over the country.
Harav Israel Lau, one of the speakers told among other things about his arriving on the "Mataror", the first boat that sailed after the war in June 1945. After having spent years in the KZ Buchenwald, he was amazed to be greeted in Haifa by soldiers, pointing their rifles at people.
To him, a 7 year old at the time, a soldier was a soldier, no matter what color his uniform. He thought that that was behind him.

He and his comrades and everybody else that had arrived on the boat, were shoved into open railway cars, just like those that took people away towards the camps in East.

This time they were transported to the detention camp in Atlith. A camp with barbed wire around it and armed soldiers watching, just like the camp he left behind.
Not only that. After awhile when his aunt and uncle came from Kiryat Motzkin to take him to their home to look after him, they were advised not to talk Polish or Jiddish to him, only Hebrew. That would help him forget the past.
He said that he did forget the Polish language, but he never forgot the past. For you can’t forget the past. It will always be part of you.

I arrived on the same boat, although a bit older, I was also amazed at the reception we got on our arrival in the detention camp. Men and women separated, our clothes disinfected, DDT powder shaken all over us. Being locked up in a camp was the last thing that I had expected after waiting for years and longing to come to our Homeland.

A couple of days later, it was the annual Open House Day in Jerusalem. One could visit Private Homes and Institutions. Across from my home was a long line of people waiting to be let into the flat in one of the famous Bauhaus building from the 1930th, 6 or 7 rooms packed full with books and furniture, a couple of large balconies and a huge garden with lawn and flowerbeds, very spacious and gracious living indeed.
When we came out again, a friend of mine together with her daughter accompanied me back to my place.
Although my flat is much smaller, it is a friendly looking place full of sunshine. They admired my paintings that cover the walls in all the rooms, and in their words my place is everything as gracious and inviting as the big flat across the street.

Today my granddaughter called and asked if she can came by. We had a light lunch together before she was off again to meet some of her friends before going back to Tel Aviv. Most of her time is taken up with her dancing carrier.

She is a good listener. I showed her some of what I am busy with and talked with her about a paper that I am going to present next week at an international conference on Women and the Shoa, for which I have prepared a power point presentation.

To keep going, in spite of the aging body and the restriction that come with that, I have to be constantly on the outlook to keep my mind occupied. Mostly, but not always, I manage to fill my time.

Youth Aliya and Kinder Transport

I have just returned from Natanya from the annual meeting of former refugee children who came with Kinder Transport to England in 1938-39. For decades the word did not ring a bell.

Hardly anybody who did not come with a Kinder Transport knew what was meant by that word. Even many of the refugee children themselves could only remember their own personal experience, but little else about the wider aspect of it and how it all came about.

The great change came when in 1989 there was a reunion in London organized by Bertha Leverton. In 1990 a pictorial exhibition about Kinder Transport by Paula Hill was put up in Bergen Belsen, which I happened to see it on one of my visits to Germany and it was reported about in a newspaper article.

A number of personal narratives were published, the play by Samuel was preformed, a couple of films produced.

There started to be talk about Kinder Transport.

As a general background, by the turn of the century in Germany and Austria Jews had reached a relative high standard of living. Anti-Semitism was rampant in most of the European countries. In Germany it took on new forms especially after the First World War. Jews were blamed for the loss of the war, for the inflation in 1923 and the great economic crisis in 1929. Unemployment hit the Jews very hard. They were the first to loose their jobs, many small shops had to close down.

By 1932 in Berlin some young unemployed Jews in their great desperation turned to Recha Freier a Rabbis wife for help. She could not help them either, but she did have a vision, she did have a dream, if only these youngsters could go to Palestine, work half day and study half day, surely that would be a solution for them.

She ran up against strong opposition, people could not understand that she suggested for children to leave home. Who would take on responsibility for them and for the children’s education.

There were a few exceptions, like Winfried Israel, Enzo Serini from Hechalutz, and Lehmann from Beth Shemen, who took a dozen of the youngsters on Students Certificates to his school. These people supported her ideas from the beginning. Recha founded Youth Aliya right then and there and by January 1933 it was a registered Verein.

But it was only after Hitler rose to power that Herietta Szold, as a member of the Jewish Agency in Palestine, at long last saw the necessity to allow young people to build a new life for themselves. She was appointed to head the Jerusalem office. In 1934 the first group organized by Youth Aliya came to Ejn Charod with the Madrich Rinot.

By now there were more candidates than that there were certificates available. It became a very selective procedure.

Certificate for Palestine were given to people who had 1000 Lirot, (see the Havara arrangement) or to agricultural workers, or students.

For Youth Aliya one had to specially apply, go for a month on a preparation camp and pass a reception committee. 5- 6 000 children made it to Kibbutzim in Erez Israel before war started.

The situation in Germany for Jews became more and more difficult. The Nuernberg Laws restricted Jews in many ways and excluded them from the economic, cultural and social life. “Juden Raus” was the cry. The only question was where too. Immigration laws in all countries were restrictive and strictly observed everywhere.

To get to America one needed to have an Affidavit, have a special needed profession or a close relative who would give a Guaranty in order to get unto the waiting list to receive a visa.

In other words to emigrate was one thing and to find a country that would allow you in, was another. It was easier if you were single and young and nobody depended on you.

But for a family without financial means, or a family with infants or old people who dependent on them, the chances to get out were more than slim.

1938 brought more distress.

The annexation of Austria to Germany, with Eichmann in charge, who with great cruelty wanted to make sure that Jews should leave a bit quicker, than they had done from Germany. At the conference in Evian most of the countries explained that their gates were closed for Jewish immigrants. This was followed in October 1938 with the expulsion to Yaboshin of the Stateless Jews from Germany. Poland would not let them in and Germany did not allow them to return.

The 10th of November Pogrom when well over a thousand Synagogues were burned, the shops looted, the men taken to KZ, Jewish schools closed, people were desperate to leave, but nowhere to go too. Who ever could, emigrated or escaped by any means be they legal or illegal. People were desperate to get away, but not everybody managed to.

There was little help forthcoming. It was a handful of prominent Anglo Jewry who got together to try at least to save the children. They got in touch with Trudie Wiessmiller who went to confront Eichmann and asked him to let Jewish children go. (see some of the available literature)

The first organized Kinder Transport left from Austria and Germany in the last days of November 1938. As soon as the first Kinder Transport got under way, it was mainly the mothers who pleaded to have their children included in one of the next transports. Their husbands were in a KZ, they had no savings left, no chance what so ever to get out by themselves, but wanted to see their children spared what was ahead of them. They knew that it would only get worse. It certainly was not an easy decision to make.

In Vienna they turned to the Kultus Gemeinde, in Germany to the department for child emigration in Berlin, which was part of the Reichsvertretung der Juden in Deutschland, or to their local Jewish community, who passed it on to the appropriate authorities.

The women from the Frauen Bund were greatly involved in helping the families and shuttling the children to where ever they had to get too. Forms had to be filled out, emigration papers needed to be prepared for each child, guarantors had to be found, or alternative places of accommodation in England. Some Jewish schools managed en block to transfer to England.

As far as possible priority was given to hardship cases. There were many more applicants than that places could be found. Some families managed to find a private sponsor for their child by their own efforts, while other children were taken first to a reception center in Dovercourt, until a sponsor could be found. It was easier to find foster homes for the younger age group. Hostels were hastily put up such as Willesdan Lane in London or others in Glasgow and Birmingham and elsewhere.

Recha Freier got into the picture and made arrangements for the 12 – 15 year olds to go on Middle Hachshara in England as candidates for Youth Aliya, which involved a great lot of negotiations, before it came about. Many youngsters from the different Zionist Youth movements made it that way with a Kinder Transport to big houses, such as Grych Castle in Wales or Whittingehame the Estate of Lord Balfour in Scotland.

The children themselves fared very different one from the other. A small number of parents survived, while most perished in the camps. The majority of the refugee children were soon orphaned. While some of the children had pleasant experiences others did not. A few converted and were lost to the Jewish faith. When the war was over some remained in England, while others came to Israel, America or elsewhere.

Did the children know at the time that the parting was for good?
Did the parents hope to see their children again? Some did some did not. In any case their effort to save the children and their willingness to part from their children was a heroic act on their part.

Considering that 10 000 children found refuge in England, there are 10 000 different answers. All depended on the age of the child, on the individual circumstances, on the background of the family, where and with whom the child was placed in England or to a great extent it simply depended on fate.

Memory can be tricky, what some remember, others do not.

Literature on the subject is very sparse and scattered, but the whole story has so far been little researched academically .

Whose idea was it, how was it set up, who made all the arrangements, who paid the fares, who was influenced by whom. Question upon question are unanswered and the background story is still shrouded in mystery.

For sure a Tribute to Anglo-Jewry for the part they played in story is long overdue.