Boris Zubry - The Jewish Nation of Mongols

The grandmother was a Hungarian Jew and the survivor of the death march orchestrated by Eichmann, SS, and the Hungarian Nazi collaborators. When the column was still in Budapest and moving toward the outskirts, her mother pushed her into a doorway when they were turning onto another street. The mother mouthed “Live,” and that did not leave any room for an argument. That was the mother’s wish and the last order she had to follow. She watched the column with the mother going away disappearing in the distance, but the mother had never turned back. They never saw each other again. So many, millions never did. She never saw anyone from the family again, and that was so typical back then. Your loved ones went one way, and you went the other, not necessarily on your own accord. And you never saw each other again. You never even knew what happened to them and where. All you really knew was that they were no more. Why was it arranged that way? Whose idea was it? What did you do to any of those angry people? Why did they hate you so much? Why did they hate everything about you, and not even know you? Why were they after your blood? Why did they want you to die and in the most terrifying way? Why, why, why… There was no clear answer, just some whispers, and rumors. Then, the whole world falls apart and crushes on you. Who knew that the world was so heavy? You lose everything, and much more.

You missed the loved ones and the people you used to know. You missed the things that once surrounded your life. Toys, books, art, furniture, the house… You missed the pets and almost friends that one day refused to look in your direction. They were finally told that you were Jewish and that was not good. That was another story. Next time… Maybe. You did not really know what happened to any of them. If you truly understood what happened to them, that would mean it happened to you too, and maybe you were not alive. Maybe there was no life beyond the one in the past. Maybe… The fuzzy past… Was it your past? But, you are here, now, and they are not.

What does it mean? Did it mean you had to keep going for yourself and most of all, for them? For all of them… They all need it. Yes, that’s what it means, but that’s so hard. You’ll grow, and that will become harder and even harder than that. So much responsibility and you were just a child. If you succeed, they succeed as well. You cannot just leave them in the past with no chance of memory. If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for them. They would do it for you. They had done it for you already.

It took for her over six months to get to Palestine. How did she make it? She did not know or chose not to remember. That could be an act of mercy. How did she avoid all the dangers of the world of predators lurking everywhere and in full force? She did not know. How she did not die along the way, right in the thicket of everything evil? She did not know. When evil was bigger than anything else and good was barely alive, she kept going on. How did she manage to avoid that evil? She did not know. Still, she was there and full of the burning fire yet, she had no story to tell. All she knew that she and a few more were still alive and somewhat whole. Maybe forgetting everything, every little thing was the way of surviving. Maybe. It happened to many before her. Perhaps that’s what the brain did to protect her sanity and still be sane and incredibly bright. How could all that happen to a teenage girl, we would never know? Naturally, these two had to meet and to fight together. Yet, after everything she suffered and the burning desire to repay the word for the injustice, she became a teacher. She always thought that children had suffered the most, and by helping these children, she was defying the evil. Maybe that what her mother’s word “live” meant. Help yourself, help other children.

What else could she do to defy the evil with most effectively? She was working mostly with orphans being the mother and the family they did not have and often, did not even remember. She was always so proud when later in life met some of these orphans all grown up and often, well accomplished and even famous. What could be more important and deserving more pride? Helping the disadvantaged children, especially the orphans, to survive and even prosper. What else was out there? What else could be more important? Nothing she could think of. Her mother told her to live, and she did it to the best of her abilities.

Would her mother be proud of her? She believed, no, she knew, yes. Her mother would be proud of her. She conquered evil. She was rebuilding the lives of those who had it badly damaged, almost destroyed, and even extinguished. It was not much different from her own life, and she could help. She wanted to help, to give them the strength to fight, maybe to get reborn, regenerated. She knew how to do that. No, evil did not succeed; it was just the temporary darkness and then, the light and happiness. There was always light after dark. In the end, life wins, you win. Evil could prevail only temporarily if at all. One could fight it off, push it away, put it down. Humanity was better than that, stronger than evil. It could be done; it was done.

Leah’s marriage was arranged as it was often done in the religious communities. Israel, America was not that far, after all, just a plane flight away. Someone was talking to someone else, the telephone calls were exchanged, and the letters with pictures arrived. A shadchan (a matchmaker) or some call them yenta , came and the deal was made. What deal? No one was going to profit in this deal, that was not in agreement, but both could be happy. That was hope. None of them was rich and not even in the money. Both families were hardworking people, and that was their legacy, but they knew happiness. Even a poor Jew could be happy, and money had nothing to do with that. Well, it could help, but it was not essential. How much money do you need to be happy? When is enough? Ah, you do not know. What does it tell you? Thus, she went to New York and the two weddings and the rest of it. There was a wedding — two weddings: one in Israel and one in New York. Too many people from New York could not go to Israel at the time, so, there was a second wedding. Well, it was not exactly the wedding but a good celebration where she could meet the mishpocha (the relative network). In the secluded life of the Williamsburg Jewry, it was essential. That was your bloodline, your link to the community, your future life. These people would help no matter what and you should support them. That’s your clan, your tribe, your family, and your religion from now on. Were Leah and Aaron happy after the wedding? How would you define that? They had a place to live, food to eat, children to raise and to worry about, many friends and relatives, and he did not drink or use drugs. Even in America… They often smiled and went to places together. They had a home and a family. So, they were better off than most of the families were and happy as only they could be. They were happy only as they could be. Happiness was not an inherited condition but an acquired one so, search for it and do not spare the expense. Give happiness all it needs. Make happiness happy. It would pay you back one day and maybe soon. One had to work hard to attain happiness and be a little lucky to keep it for a longer period.

The violent dreams of Aaron had never stopped; instead, they were becoming more profound, in more details and coming more often. It was alarming to Aaron, almost to the point of a nervous breakdown. Now, it was on display nearly every day, well, every night. Aaron was exhausted and not be able to rest. He was falling asleep during the prayers and snapping at everyone, even the children. Children… That was not good. How do they deserve that? How are they responsible for anything? They were just children, the Jewish children in New York. That was New York and not the Wild West. Aaron worried, but he was not in control. Something beyond him was in charge and demanding.