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| Janusz Korczak: A Fairy Tale of Life [excerpt]. Warsaw Spring 1942? |
There are fairy tales that people tell, and there are fairy tales that life tells. Sometimes a fairy tale is strange but true. [...]
Two widows lived in the same yard; each had one little son. One had light hair and dark eyes, and the other had light eyes and dark hair. One was called Olek, and the other Bolek. And when they called, they called: bright Bolek, dark Olek. Then they went to school together. And already everyone began to say and write in the newspapers that this one is a Jew and that one is an Aryan. But they didn't understand what it meant. But then the boys found out that they couldn't be friends because one's grandmother was Jewish and the other's grandmother was German. They understood that the two grandmothers who had already died had quarreled and did not want them to go to school together and play together. – One wrote in the diary: "I lost a friend", the other wrote in the diary: "I am sad." And then there was the war, and the boys were no longer small because they had grown up and graduated from school. They both went to the army. One thought he was Polish, but they told him to be Jewish. The others thought he was Polish, they told him to be German. They didn't know why it had to be like this, but they knew that their grandmothers weren't to blame, that they hadn't quarreled at all. There is something different, but what it really is, they still did not understand, although they were already in the war and were no longer children.
I forgot to say that there was a shop in the house where they lived as little boys, and the owner of the shop had a girl who had light hair and blue eyes, or dark eyes and hair. I don't remember so I don't want to be wrong. It was a long time ago. Or maybe not so long ago, but more than ten years ago. The boys liked the girl very much, they knew that she was Jewish, but they didn't think about it. They didn't care at all. She was nice and cheerful and played with them, and her mother sold her sweets cheaply - she even sometimes gave them candy, a cherry, or a little gingerbread without money. They were told that they were no longer allowed to buy or play or take or give - nothing - nothing. Because the girl's father, mother, brother, and she - all were and are Jews.
They themselves understood that one grandmother meant little, but for all Jews here, it's terrible. There were also various other things and matters, other shops and children in the yard and at school. I'll tell you one more time, because now I'm in a hurry to the second fairy tale, so I'll tell only what is most important. And most importantly, they both became pilots during the war, and they met high in the air during the war and shot at each other. They didn't know who they were shooting at, they were shooting at enemy planes. And they both hit because they shot on target. The planes went down in flames, and they happened to go down while this little girl was going out of town with her father to buy something in the country. “Of course, the girl was big. The planes fell on this Jewish father and on the Jewish woman. And three widows cried: one who was told to be Jewish, the other who was told to be German, and the third one who was also Jewish and mother of a Jewish woman and wife of a Jew. And that's the end of my fairy tale. But their story is not over. I don't know anymore, but they know, because their souls are still there, even though they burnt down. For souls are refractory, and when a man dies, his soul, without airplanes and gasoline, and without iron balls, flies high, higher than airplanes, to heaven. Their souls now know how it is, why it was and is - they are not worried and are happy now. "And they don't need our tears because they know what's coming." And it will be that we will meet again and we will be fine. [...]
They themselves understood that one grandmother meant little, but for all Jews here, it's terrible. There were also various other things and matters, other shops and children in the yard and at school. I'll tell you one more time, because now I'm in a hurry to the second fairy tale, so I'll tell only what is most important. And most importantly, they both became pilots during the war, and they met high in the air during the war and shot at each other. They didn't know who they were shooting at, they were shooting at enemy planes. And they both hit because they shot on target. The planes went down in flames, and they happened to go down while this little girl was going out of town with her father to buy something in the country. “Of course, the girl was big. The planes fell on this Jewish father and on the Jewish woman. And three widows cried: one who was told to be Jewish, the other who was told to be German, and the third one who was also Jewish and mother of a Jewish woman and wife of a Jew. And that's the end of my fairy tale. But their story is not over. I don't know anymore, but they know, because their souls are still there, even though they burnt down. For souls are refractory, and when a man dies, his soul, without airplanes and gasoline, and without iron balls, flies high, higher than airplanes, to heaven. Their souls now know how it is, why it was and is - they are not worried and are happy now. "And they don't need our tears because they know what's coming." And it will be that we will meet again and we will be fine. [...]
