Chapter 14
In 1970, I met a group of my former pupils in Israel – the "children from Krochmalna." Naturally, they were no longer children. Each had gone their own way, but all had grown into brave, honest, hard-working, and socially oriented people.
I managed to visit some of them in their homes, meeting their children and grandchildren. The bond that unites these "children" of ours is (and this is no exaggeration) generally stronger than that between siblings. They don't always agree on many issues, but they share a keen interest in each other, always ready to help each other. They participate in all the Korczak events organized in Israel. They are also extremely interested in how the Korczak movement is developing around the world. All this has its own significance. Doesn't it?
How I would gladly tell the Doctor about this, without questioning his convictions about the powerful influence of genetic laws. In any case, I would emphasize that the early grafted wild trees produced noble varieties of fruit. So, he achieved something of immense value.
I am amazed at how Janusz Korczak, burdened with so many activities, responsibilities, and plans for his extensive, multifaceted career, still found time for correspondence. He wrote letters to people close to him who were far away, who initially struggled and faced difficult problems. It seems to me that even today's readers, not just those fascinated by Korczak and facing intractable problems, can benefit greatly from his pedagogical insight, encouraging them to "give birth to their own thoughts in pain," because such are, after all, the most important. Despite the cataclysms of history and my own bitter experiences, how glad I would be to repeat with the Doctor that "people are good"... With unwavering conviction, however, I maintain that thinking not only had a rich past but also a tremendous future.
If we – Korczak's followers – succeed in disseminating the Doctor's works, his concepts, and pedagogical solutions, and adapting his thoughts to the new era, and at the same time, in different countries and in different languages – we have a right to well-deserved satisfaction. Korczak's thoughts have not aged, even in our commercialized, post-industrial era, and can often act as a catalyst in unleashing goodness and true humanism. I recently hosted Aronek, whom we should now call Aron. I listened to a long story about his life. He fled Poland from the German fascists to the USSR. There, of his own free will, he traveled quite far east to work in a mine. He wasn't afraid of any work, and he wanted to be useful. After a while, he loudly demanded workers' rights, guaranteed by the constitution. Soon, no longer willingly, he ended up in a Soviet labor camp, sentenced to 10 years. He dug the earth, cleared forests, was also a bricklayer, a tailor, a cook... He was surrounded not only by political prisoners but also by ordinary criminals.
Our conversation turned to the Orphanage, which Aronek recalled with incredible warmth. "We were fortunate to know Korczak personally; others can now benefit from the Doctor. From his wise books, perhaps a little from our memories."
- Right, Mr. Misza?
I'll also mention my last conversation with Szymek – once
Mrs. Stefa's favorite – a kind, gentle man. He is grateful to fate that he ended up on Krochmalna Street. He speaks of the Doctor with love and reverence. He himself
is no longer young. He still works in the construction industry, and when he talks about it, he draws his thereminology from there: "You see," he says, "Korczak provided the most important thing: a good, solid foundation. Even if the house burns down or is demolished, you can always build a new one on such a foundation."
- The foundation – the most important thing!
When "Korczak's Children" became "Pan Misza´s".
Szmulek Gogol, Szlomo Nadel, and Jakubek Dodiuk
I knew Korczak's children didn't survive the Holocaust. Because I knew about their fate in August 1942. At the time, however, I didn't think about those who did. I saw that it was impossible. This impossibility was actually only applied to Korczak's children, who stayed with him in the Warsaw Ghetto. I never thought about the others who left Poland before the war or survived in the USSR, as many Polish Jews did.
I knew Korczak's children didn't survive the Holocaust. Because I knew about their fate in August 1942. At the time, however, I didn't think about those who did. I saw that it was impossible. This impossibility was actually only applied to Korczak's children, who stayed with him in the Warsaw Ghetto. I never thought about the others who left Poland before the war or survived in the USSR, as many Polish Jews did.
The world of "Korczak's Children" opened up to me only in Sweden, when "Korczak's Children" began visiting my father in Sweden. Suddenly, my father became Pan Misza (Mr. Misha).
One of the first orphanage children I met was Szmulek Gogol. The year was 1971, and he arrived in Stockholm just to meet my father for the first time after the war. At that time, I knew nothing about him besides that he was playing harmonica that he actually brought with him and played it for us. He also had an extra harmonica that he gave to my father, the harmonica which finally ended up at my home.
His Orphanage story starts with a well-known custom: when a child lost a tooth, the Korczak would credit its previous owner with 50 groszy. When Szmulek Gogol lost his first set of teeth naturally and celebrated his fourteenth birthday (September 14, 1939), he had accumulated a considerable sum of money for the instrument he dreamed of: a harmonica. And so he received one. He quickly learned to play it. When the Germans occupied Warsaw, he and the entire orphanage were sent to the ghetto. Living conditions there deteriorated daily. His grandmother came from Przasnysz and led him outside the ghetto walls. However, their freedom was short-lived. They soon found themselves in the ghetto. This time, in Maków Mazowiecki, and from there, they were transported to the Auschwitz concentration camp. There, for a piece of bread, Szmuel bought a harmonica from a fellow prisoner. While he was playing it, an SS officer heard him and assigned Szmulik to the famous Auschwitz camp orchestra, which used to perform near the gas chambers. However, their main task was to play marches for the work groups leaving for work, and returning to the camp after work. According to the German plan, the music was intended to deceive and lull the vigilance of the hundreds of thousands of victims being led to their deaths through there. Szmuel saw these people. He also recognized those close to him, among them. He couldn't bear to watch the endless dance of death, and as he played, he closed his eyes.
Jakubek Dodiuk was the second child that I met. It was in Paris.
Szlomo Nadel
I met most of the children in Israel in 1994. I was adopted by many people. The closest ones were Szlomo Nadel, Klara Maayan, and Ceśka Arnon, who not only adopted me but also told me she would be my daughters' grandmother. This adoption by Szlomo and Freda Nadel lasted until the end of Szlomo's life. I still remember the moment when Freda answered the phone and called out: "Szlomo! It's Romek!"
Jakubek Dodiuk