a_jewish_kid_in_hiding

8/7/2019 a_Jewish_kid_in_hiding

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Lucy Xu

Period 2

5/4/10

Never Say Goodbye

Hello there. My name is Hanne Jakobson. I'm a twelve year old girl living in Denmark. The

year is 1944. You should know something else about me. I'm Jewish. Mama and Pa and I used to

live in a small flat above our watch store, where Pa made and fixed watches every day. Then, the

Holocaust started. We began to hear stories of things happening in faraway countries like Austria

and Poland, where Jews were rounded up and sent to ghettos and death camps. Mama used to say

we were lucky, nothing had happened in Poland yet and we did not have to wear the armbands

with the yellow stars of David. We still went to synagogue every week. Still, I could sense afeeling of nervousness in the air. Mama told me that if anything ever happened to her and Pa

then I should go to our neighbors, the Larsens, for help. At the time I brushed it off and told my

mother "But everything is going to be all right! You don't have to worry. We'll always be

together." I thought that all the people who hated Jews would eventually fade away, and

everything could be peaceful and happy again. That was three years ago. How wrong I was.

It had just been another peaceful, ordinary day. I came home from school, put my books down

on the table, hung up my jacket, and went into the kitchen for a snack. I could smell the delicious

scent of roast chicken, my favorite, wafting from the oven. After eating I started my homework.

Sometimes when I got stuck on a question Mama would come over and help me. At 7 o'clock Pa

came home and we sat down for dinner. As usual, the conversation was about how things were in

the shop. Pa was in a good mood. He had sold more watches than usual. Wiping off his thick

glasses he said cheerfully, "Good day for selling watches, eh? People want to know the time.

They want to know the time when everyone will be equal, even though we already are so in the

eyes of God." He turned serious again, his bright blue eyes no longer twinkling. Not

understanding any of this, I smiled back and nodded my head. We were almost done with dessert

when the knock came. At first it was a quiet knock but then it became a frantic banging on the

door. Pa hurried over and opened it. Mr. Larsen, our neighbor, hurried in and started talking

frantically. "I must say this as fast as I can, for I haven't much time now. The police are arresting

all of the Jews. They are coming here as we speak. Would you like us to take Hanne and hideher? We have enough space and it really wouldn't be too much trouble. It's the least we can do

for you." He finally stopped talking and looked hopelessly at Mama and Pa, who were now both

standing up and looking extremely worried. I sat there, holding my cup of hot chocolate, frozen

in terror. We could hear the voices of the police far down the street.


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Suddenly, as if breaking out of a daze, Mama said in a clear voice, "Hanne, go find your coat.Pack a small bag with your most important things and go with Mr. Larsen." I stared at her, not

quite comprehending this. "But Mama..." I started to say in a small voice. "Do what your mother

tells you." Pa said. With tears in my eyes I hurried to my room. I knew I didn't have much time. I

didn't want to leave my parents, but since I was little I had been taught to obey what grownups

told me to do. I packed my small suitcase with some clothes, my doll, and all the money that I

had gotten from my grandparents and birthdays. I walked back into the living room, where Mr.

Larsen was waiting. The voices of the police were closer now, and more harried. My parents

gave me quick hugs. With tears in her eyes, Mama said to me "Hanne, one day we will see you

again. Be brave. Even if a day come where you don't want to live anymore, be brave. Wait for

that day." She took off her gold necklace and gently placed it in my hand. It felt like there was

something stuck in my throat. So was this goodbye? Not wanting to cry like a baby, I swallowed

my tears and hugged them again, tighter this time. I followed Mr. Larsen out the door. As it

closed behind me, I heard Pa calling out, "This is not goodbye my daughter. We will never leave

you as long as you keep us alive in your head and your heart." It was as though he had read mymind. When the Larsens' door closed again, I could finally let my tears out. I cried like I had

never allowed myself to before. As I heard the stomps of the police up the stairs and the crashes

in our apartment below, the sound of angry voices, I cried. I cried for my lost parents, for the

Jews, and for myself. The Larsens' kind words did nothing to help me. I kept rocking back and

forth silently, tears streaming down my face. It was midnight before I stopped. That was three

years ago.

I hid in the Larsens' apartment for the next three years. During the day I could stay inside and

do whatever I pleased, as long as I stood far from the windows. I helped watch their two small

children. At night, I would sleep in the bathtub. It was uncomfortable but soon I got used to it. It

was wonderful compared to where Mama and Pa might have been. When we heard voicescoming up the stairs or knocks on the door, I quickly ran and hid inside a concealed cupboard.

Sometimes if there were guests staying the night I had to be as quiet as possible and not move at

all, even if I was hungry or had to go to the bathroom. When it was safe Mrs. Larsen would open

the cupboard door and let me out. That was the way I lived for three years, and each day that

passed by to me was another gift from God. One day the Larsens got me a fake passport and

identification papers. I was waiting for the day when I would be able to cross over, in a fishing

boat, to Sweden. People said that Sweden was safe for Jews. I certainly hoped that it was true.

The night I was waiting for finally came. On a cold, chilly night in mid autumn, Mr. Larsen

informed me that if I wanted to I had to leave Denmark now. The Germans had arrived and they

were threatening to close down the ports. When the clock struck 12 they snuck me out of the

house. I was taken to a small fishing boat and hidden beneath the deck. The fisherman gave me a

handkerchief filled with cocaine. If our boat was stopped, the search dogs would not be able to

find me. The cocaine numbed their noses and crippled their sense of smell. Again, another set of

goodbyes to say. I thanked Mr. and Mrs. Larsen for all the trouble that they went to and the

danger they put their family in to help me. They had gained nothing from it, but yet they had still


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done it. Truly kind people are hard to find. They hugged me, and like my parents they told me

that it was not goodbye, that one day we would meet again.

Some stories end in a happily ever after, mine ends in a maybe. As I huddle on the

fisherman's boat, I wonder about my future. I wonder if I will ever see my beloved parents or my

homeland again. Still deeply troubled, I close my eyes and drift into uneasy sleep. When I am

conscious again, it is almost sunrise. The sky is still pink and gray. The sun is just a small golden

dot on the horizon. How fitting for me. Some stories end in a sunrise or a sunset. My sunrise will

come when I find my parents again.

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