Sholem Aleichem - The Letters of Menakhem-Mendl and Sheyne-Sheyndl and Motl, the Cantor's Son

“Hey! It looks like we’re at the border now …”

I had always thought a border looked special. Not at all. The town we were in had the same houses, the same Jews, the same Christians, even the same marketplace with the same stores and stands as Kasrilevke.

Brokheh and Taybl went to shop in the market. My mother wouldn’t let me out of her sight. Maybe she thought I would run the border without her. Elye and Pinye went off to talk to two strangers.

My mother said the strangers were called agents. That meant they would run the border with us. They didn’t look like they could run very fast. One had a green overcoat, a white umbrella, and eyes like a thief ’s. The other was better quality with a top hat. A third person, a woman, played peekaboo behind them. She was all pious-and-respectable-like and wore a wig. She kept dropping God’s name as though they were best friends and asked my mother where we planned to spend the Sabbath.

My mother said we would be across the border by then. “Amen!” the woman answered with a long face. “God grant it!” She was only afraid, she said, that we were being taken for a ride. The agents we were dealing with, she said, were no better than thieves. They would walk off with our money and leave us high and dry. If we wanted to run the border, she said, we should run it with her. With her, she said, it would be a breeze. Search me how she planned to run with that big wig.

By now Elye and Pinye were back. They looked pretty down in the mouth. It seems the two of them had quarreled. Each was blaming the other for having to spend the Sabbath in this place. And that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was that the two agents were threatening to rat on us. The next thing I know my mother is crying and Elye is scolding her for ruining her eyes. Because of her eyes, he says, we’ll never make it to America!

Elye and Pinye have broken off talks with the agents. “We’ve changed our minds,” they told them. “We’re not going to America after all.” Was I depressed! I mean I thought it was true. But it was only a trick. Leave it to Pinye. He told the agents a fib to get rid of them while negotiating with the woman. She took an advance and told us to be ready tonight. The night will be dark and moonless. That’s the best time for running the border. I can’t wait to see how you run it.

We spent all day arranging our things. Everything had to be repacked and left with the woman. She’ll send it across the border after us. People, she says, come first with her. Then she gave us instructions. At midnight, she said, we should walk out of town until we come to a hill. At the hill we turn left and walk as far as the next hill. At the next hill we turn right and walk some more to a tavern. We wait there while one of us goes inside. There’ll be two Christians drinking vodka at a table. The password is “Kaimove”—that’s their name. As soon as they hear it, they’ll come with us and lead us to a forest.

“Four more Christians,” the woman said, “will be waiting for you in the forest. Wake them up if they’re asleep. Apart from that you mustn’t make a sound. Anyone hearing you will shoot. There are soldiers everywhere. The four men will lead you downhill through the forest until you’re on the other side.”

Hills, taverns, forests — it sounded pretty grand to me. My mother was afraid. So were Brokheh and Taybl. We men laughed at them. A woman is scared of a cat.

The summer sun set. We said the evening prayer, ate our dinner, and waited for it to get good and dark. At the stroke of midnight we set out, all six of us.

The men went first. My mother, Brokheh, and Taybl followed as usual. The woman with the wig had given good directions. We left town, came to a hill, turned left, came to another hill, turned right, and reached a tavern. One of us went inside. Who? Pinye, of course. We waited half an hour, an hour, two hours — no Pinye. Brokheh and Taybl wanted someone to look for him. Who? Elye, of course. My mother didn’t like the idea. “Then I’ll go,” I said. She liked that even less.

But here’s Pinye! “Where have you been?” “In the tavern.” “Where are the Christians?” “Asleep.” “Why didn’t you wake them?” “Who says I didn’t?” “Why didn’t you give them the password?” “Who says I didn’t?” “And?” “And nothing.” “But that’s not good.” “Who says it is?”

Elye had a brainy idea. He and Pinye would enter the tavern together and try waking the Christians. Two are better than one.

That’s what they did. Half an hour later they all came out. The two Christians looked still asleep. They were drunk and cursed to wake the dead. The women were scared out of their wits. You could tell by how they sighed and groaned. Every minute my mother said “Oh, God, please” in a tiny voice.

We walked on. Where were the men waiting in the forest? Suddenly the Christians stopped in their tracks and asked how much money we had. We were too terrified to say a word. My mother was the first to find her tongue. We had no money, she said. “You’re lying!” said the men. “All Jews have money.” They took out two long knives, waved them in front of us, and said: “Fork up or we’ll slit your throats!” We stood there like dumb, frightened lambs until my mother told Elye to open his secret pocket and hand over the money.

That’s when Brokheh went and fainted. My mother saw her and screamed, “Help!” Taybl heard my mother and screamed too. A second later— rat-a-tat-tat! Shots echoed through the forest. The two men took off on the run. Brokheh picked herself up. My mother grabbed me by one hand and my brother Elye by the other and shouted:

“Run, boys! The God of Israel be with you!”

So this was running the border! Where did she get the strength from? We kept tripping over tree roots and falling. Each time we got up and ran some more. My mother turned around and asked in her tiny voice:

“Pinye, are you running? Brokheh, are you running? Taybl, are you running? Run, run, the God of Israel is with us!”

I can’t tell you how long we ran. The forest was already behind us. Dawn was breaking. We were sweating like mad, even though a cool breeze was blowing. We came to a street. Another street. A white church. Gardens. Yards. Little houses.

A Jew was coming toward us, driving a goat. He had the longest earlocks I’ve ever seen, a long, tatty gabardine, and a green shawl around his neck. We stopped to say hello. He stared at us. Pinye struck up a conversation. The Jew had a strange way of talking. I mean he talked our language, but he didn’t talk it like we do. Pinye asked if we were near the border. “What border?” the Jew asked. It seemed the border was far behind us.

“In that case, why are we running like lunatics?” So Pinye said, sounding like a different Pinye. He turned around, squared his shoulders, made a finger, and shouted in Russian:

“Take that, you lousy Ivans!”

We all began to laugh like mad. The women laughed so hard they collapsed on the ground. My mother raised both her arms. “Thank you, dear, dear God,” she said, and burst out crying.

Would you like to know where we are? Smack in the middle of Brody! That means we’re getting near America. It’s a fine place, Brody is. You don’t see such streets and people back home. Even the Jews are different. I mean they’re the same Jews, they’re just more so. Their earlocks are longer, their hats are weirder, their gabardines have belts and hang to the ground, their shoes have no socks, and their women wear fancy wigs. And you should hear them speak German — I tell you, that takes the cake! They say beheimeh instead of beheymeh and sheigetz instead of sheygetz. And the way they sing their words! A person might think they were chanting the Torah.