Maria's Story
"The reason that I speak to various groups is to share with them how important it is to understand all human beings regardless of race, color or religion. Hate and prejudice are extremely destructive: innocent people have died because of hatred. The Holocaust must never happen again, and we must never forget those who perished."
What is one thing you want to pass on and teach those who are younger today about tolerance and about the Holocaust?
One thing I wish to leave is that it is my hope that the Holocaust never happen again !
Because of prejudice and hatred that led to the Holocaust, and I want to eliminate that in the young minds that I speak to.
One thing I wish to leave is that it is my hope that the Holocaust never happen again !
Because of prejudice and hatred that led to the Holocaust, and I want to eliminate that in the young minds that I speak to.
How do you think your experienced has shaped the life of your family? You mention in your book you didn't speak about the Holocaust publicly for over 50 years. Did you tell your family? How do you think knowing your history, and consequently their history, changed their lives?
As far as my family, they did not know anything about me until I was interviewed by the Spielberg foundation! They were very sad to find out what happened to me and especially the loss of my whole family. I believe that my children are much more aware and sensitive when it comes to the holocaust.
As far as my family, they did not know anything about me until I was interviewed by the Spielberg foundation! They were very sad to find out what happened to me and especially the loss of my whole family. I believe that my children are much more aware and sensitive when it comes to the holocaust.
The main reason for writing this story is to preserve my heritage for my children and to honor my parents as well as other relatives who perished in the Holocaust.
Genocide of Jews and other nations must never happen again.
This must be a lesson to future generations. Hitler was an evil man and he inspired other Germans to carry out the "Final Solution"--the destruction of all Jews in Europe, in addition to many other non-Jews of whom Hitler disapproved: gypsies, homosexuals, the handicapped and the mentally ill.
Hitler considered the Germans a superior race. When Hitler became chancellor of Germany in 1933, his plan was to eliminate all European Jews and other individuals of whom he disapproved politically or socially.
Hitler established concentration camps in Germany and Poland. When he invaded Poland in September of 1939, he established ghettos in European cities so he could round up all the Jews and confine them in a small area. Once the Jews were confined in the ghettos, Germany had full control over their destiny: send them to the death camps-to complete what the Nazi government called "The Final Solution."
The Hitler government slaughtered 6,000,000 European Jews--most of the Jews in Europe. Perhaps he never thought that the handful of Jews who survived the ghettos and concentration camps would survive to tell the world of the atrocities and barbarity to committed against humanity.
Genocide like the Holocaust must never happen again to anyone, no matter what their race or religion--white, black, Jews, or Catholic. This should be a lesson to the world: one maniac can build a large enough following to support him in genocide.
Never Again! Never Again! "Never Again" should be our motto.
My Early Childhood: 1935
In my backyard, we had trees. I loved climbing trees. I was obnoxious at times and wanted to eat my food in the tree, and when my mom asked me to come down, I refused. I made my mom angry at times. I guess I had no fear and was somewhat of a tomboy. I would climb to the "tippy-top" of the cherry tree and shake the very thin branches, I loved to eat the cherries. My mother was terrified and yelled at me to come down. To this day I like to buy cherries when they are available; today my children buy me cherries because they know how much I enjoy them.
I seemed to have a great deal of energy as a child and felt very alive. I was a carefree bird enjoying the outdoors and my freedom to run around.
The Onset of World War II
It seemed everything in those days was scary and secretive. Wherever we went there were German soldiers parading around in their green uniforms and helmets, with carbines handing over their shoulders. They always had fierce dogs. They never smiled much, always looking angry and unapproachable. This tense atmosphere hung over the community for weeks, maybe even months.
One evening there was a lot of commotion in town. The adults were rushing around, talking to neighbors, blank looks on their troubled faces. Of course we children became agitated and wanted to ask questions, but we were afraid to because of the tension in the air. Finally, late that evening my parents gathered all the children around the pot-bellied stove and broke the news to us about the unrest. Rumor had it that the Germans were planning to round up all the Jews in town and deport them to the Warsaw Ghetto.
In the Warsaw Ghetto: 1940
About 500,000 Jews were confined in the Warsaw Ghetto, which consisted of several city streets surrounded by tall brick walls, with barbed wire and glass on top to prevent any escape. The Jews from Warsaw and the surrounding areas were brought into the Ghetto, dumped and left to fend for themselves.
Jews were not permitted to leave the Ghetto. In some places one could find openings, heavily guarded by the Gestapo on the Polish side and by the Jewish militia inside the Ghetto walls. Gentiles were permitted to enter the Ghetto for business purposes. Many Gentiles took advantage of the situation by exchanging food for furs and jewels if cash was available. Very often people would give anything they had of a piece of bread. The only goat this point was survival, and it was most certainly a survival of the fittest.
On occasion I would go to the market with my mother and sister. It was an outdoor market and my mother would complain about how expensive even potatoes were. At times many staples were unavailable, depending what the farmers brought in that day from the nearby Gentile villages. Mother tried her best to obtain food to sustain the family with the limited resources we had. Most of the time mother fed us soup—usually very watery. Bread was a true luxury, and we all lined up in the kitchen to get a piece. My mother rationed it very carefully, as there was usually not enough to go around more than once. There were times, however when we did not have enough for even a ration of one piece of bread per person. Since carrots were relatively inexpensive by comparison, my mother bought more carrots than anything else and we would crunch away on them like rabbits. To this day, I hate carrots with a passion they bring back memories of the Warsaw Ghetto and an endlessly empty stomach. Stasia (a Gentile) came to the Ghetto and asked my mother if I could go back with her to Okuniew to look after her cow. It was decided that I would leave the ghetto with Stasia; in this way I could help my family. Some of my father’s customers owed him money for shoe repairs and shoes he had made for them when we lived in Okuniew prior to deportation. I went out to the surrounding villages and collected what he was owed and was able to amass some food and money to bring to my family. I did this twice and my family was overjoyed when I returned to the Ghetto with bread, potatoes, and even some chickens. We had a true feast.
The third time I went to Warsaw with Stasia, when we tried to get back into the Ghetto, it was impossible. Security at the walls had become extremely tight and the guards would not let us in. we tried multiple crossings in the event that some other guards would be more lenient, but we had no luck with any of them, and turned back toward Okuniew.
That was the last time I saw my family. I felt very sad and perhaps guilty that no one from my family escaped the Ghetto—except me, alone.
I will never forget my mother’s expression the day I left with Stasia for the first time. My mother was standing by the kitchen window with my little sister looking on. After a few minutes’ silence she said to me, “Go. You are the only one in the family that has a chance to survive, because all of us will be killed sooner or later.” That really bothered me because my true intention was not to be the only one to survive. My hope was to go back and forth between the Ghetto and Okuniew and help our family obtain food. After I lost contact with my family I could not stop thinking abut my mother’s last words to me.
Return to Okuniew: 1941
Stasia and Janek owned a one-bedroom house on a small piece of property. They had no children; they owned a skinny cow named Betsy. The reason that Stasia took me out of the Ghetto is because she needed someone to take care of Betsy when she traveled back and forth to the Warsaw Ghetto. My responsibility was to take the black and white cow into the pasture ever morning and bring her home in the evening, in time to be milked. Each morning I got up at dawn, packed a sack of lunch, put it in a small bundle over my shoulder, and Betsy and I left for the green pasture. There I joined other boys and girls from Okuniew looking after their cows. In a sense it was fun for a while: no school and very few responsibilities.
[Then I went to stay with the Polansky family. One day] there was a knock at the front door. Mrs. Polansky went to the door to ask who it was. When the voice replied, "Police and Gestapo," Mr. Polansky immediately pushed me out the back window into the cornfield and told them that I no longer lived there. When the police left, the Polanskys came out to the cornfield to bring me food and a blanket. I was afraid to spend the night there. Together ,we decided that it was no longer safe for me to remain in their home. Apparently, the Germans had decided to round up all the remaining Jews in town, and I was on their list. The cornfield became my living quarters for several days.
Two weeks went by since the Gestapo and Polish police came to look for me. The Germans killed the other Jews in town; why would they spare me? While living in Okuniew since my time in the Ghetto, I had made the acquaintance of a young woman and her family. Wanda was in her twenties with very pretty dark long hair and a beautiful face. Her father was a Polish policeman in town and I was certain that he was aware of my existence a long time before they came to get me.
When my safety in the Polansky home was in jeopardy, Wanda sent word through her mother, telling me to come to Warsaw to live with her.
I had to plan my escape very carefully so as not to let the Poles recognize me. I said good-bye to my family in Okuniew and thanked them for taking care of me. After all, they risked their own life to protect me. If the Germans found out that they were harboring a Jewish child they could have killed them all.
The Escape: 1944
As I walked toward the station, I began to recognize some of the people from the Okuniew village taking their wares to Warsaw for business. I wore a kerchief on my head and tried to avoid looking at anyone that I knew.
It was a short train ride, around thirty minutes. My concept of time was a little fuzzy in those days. When I arrived in Warsaw, Wanda was waiting for me at the station. We went directly to her grocery store in the center of town. I was happy to see Wanda; she was warm and interested in my welfare, and we had a close relationship with each other.
Wanda began to teach me how to put things away and even sell some small uncomplicated items [in her grocery store]. I was happy as long as Wanda was with me. No one suspected that I was Jewish and when people asked, Wanda told them that I was her daughter. Wanda was really kind to me; in time I did consider her like a mother. The days went by quickly, and my thoughts of my family diminished slightly however, I did not forget them.
[One time, during an air raid, we] sat patiently in the dark, hoping that the bombings would quiet down so we could return to our apartment as we always did after an air raid.
Unfortunately, this time it was different. After several hours of hiding we were suddenly interrupted by two uniformed German soldiers motioning to us with their fingers: Come, come.”
There was no question in our minds of disobeying their orders and we all followed them upstairs. When we got upstairs, the Germans loaded us on their trucks and whisked us away to a large open field. At the field, they took all the men, old and young, while all the women and children remained. There were rumors of the men being shot. Indeed, as we waited we heard gunshots in the near distance—echoing the unknown sad news.
The women and children tried to maintain their composure, but it was difficult. There was a lot of crying when the soldiers lined us up, their rifles pointed in our direction, the direction of the women and children.
One of the older German soldiers tried to console the frightened women and children awaiting their unknown fate. He said that he, too, had a while and children at home and did not enjoy his assignment. He was merely carrying out orders.
The suspense of the unknown was painful, and each minutes seemed more like an hour. The guns continued to point in our direction. At the precise moment when the pointed machine guns were getting ready to fire, a miracle occurred a tall uniformed German officers on a white horse came out of nowhere and charge din front of the firing squad. This god-like human being raised his right hand, hollering, “Halt!”
Slowly the firing squad dropped their weapons and retreated gradually, one by one. An enormous sigh of relief emanated from the frightened group of women and children.
The following day, early in the morning, our group was escorted by the German soldiers to Paszow, a temporary camp, to process us for transport to a concentration camp. First, we had to submit to a medical examination conducted by a team of Polish doctors.
The doctors took it upon themselves to paint us with yellow chalk and tell the Germans that we had jaundice. Since the Germans were terrified of contagious diseases, they took the doctors’ advice to let us go.
Now that we were out of Warsaw and spared from going to a concentration camp, we had to decide what to do next and where to go. Of course, without a home or money, that was not an easy task. In addition, as residents of Warsaw, we were still hunted down by the Germans. Wanda came up wit ha good idea. She remembered that her husband had paid for a summer vacation on a farm in the country. “Let’s find the farm,” she said, “and see if they would be willing to let us stay there while we look for Jurek.” Jurek was in the Polish resistance, and we had no idea whether he was dead or alive.
We had no means of support, but as Wanda was an entrepreneur, she started a small business selling bread on the black market. Of course, I was always by her side, helping out whenever I could.
Back in Bydogoszcz: 1947
Wanda sent me to a convent every Wednesday afternoon where the nuns taught me about Catholicism. Although Wanda and Jurek never forced me to worship in their faith, I had a very strong need to belong to a church and pray to God The religion was extremely important to me. It gave me strength to go on and hope that one day I might find my family of birth. I was a very good Catholic; I obeyed my family and God, and went to confession once a week to atone for my wrongdoings.
All this time, I never gave up hope and continued to search for my real family. I had some recollection of an uncle named Abraham living in Paris, France. He was a younger brother of m father and when I was a little girl in Poland, he used to visit us with his wife Gittel. I also remember the many presents he brought us when he visited Okuniew. Before going to Denmark, I had written to my uncle and, to my amazement, I heard back from him. He wrote that he wanted me to come to Paris to live with him and his common-law wife Edzia and Edzia’s daughter Helene, who was about my age. My uncle was in his late 40’s at the time. To bring me to Paris, he had to seek permission from the French government, which entailed much red tape and paperwork.
Shortly after I received the letter from my uncle, two tall men in dark suits arrived at our apartment, telling me that I was to leave for Paris in two days to be reunited with my uncle. I had a hard time comprehending the news, and I had only one day to get ready, to pack and to say goodbye to my family and my best friend Basia. Wanda and I were both confused, not fully comprehending the meaning of all of this.
Paris: 1948
All of the Jewish children from Poland were housed in a suburb of Warsaw for several days prior to going to Paris. We were given false papers to enable us to cross the German-French border.
Just before boarding the train, we were told hat our destination was Israel with s stopover in Paris. “Well,” I told everyone, “I am not going to Israel. I am going to Paris my uncle is expecting me. “
The train ride was long and tiring. We arrived, cleaned up and had dinner, then went upstairs to get ready for bed. I asked one of the counselors if my uncle would be coming to get me, and his reply was, “You do not have an uncle.” I was devastated and realized that I had been deceived while still in Poland. I felt desperate.
The next day we were told to pack and bring our suitcases to the waiting bug. I refused to take my luggage to the bus, but they dragged me; then I refused to put my suitcase on the bus.
At midnight, my uncle Abraham arrived at the gate. The security people refused to let him in. he got extremely angry and told them that I was his only living relative and that he had been a prisoner in Auschwitz. After much arguing, he succeeded in getting me out before the group left for Israel. It was quite a victory to be free again. Needless to say, I was I was very happy to see my uncle.
Uncle Abraham and I got along just fine; my cousin Helen was also nice to me and we had a good time together. Edzia, his common-law wife, was an entirely different story.
I had only been with my relatives a few days when I realized that living in this situation would not work for me. I decided to go to the kiosk down the street and buy a Polish newspaper. I found out the name of the editor of this paper and went to see him: Mr. Marymont. I explained to him my need to go to church and, as a Catholic himself, he understood. He offered to take me home with him to his wife and his two young children. I spent the weekend with the Marymonts and Monday morning we drove back to Paris. He put me under the care of two young women who worked for him.
Mr. Marymont came up with the idea of enrolling me in a Polish boarding school in Paris. I loved the boarding school. All the classes were in Polish, and on Sunday I could go to church and no one would try to prevent me. I learned a great deal, and the classes were small. We went to museums, and the theater and even the opera.
I was introduced to a Jewish couple from Montreal, Canada. They wanted to adopt a young orphan without any family attachments. I decided I was not interested in being adopted. Because they wanted a child without any family, I would have to give up my relationship with my uncle. It was a good idea, but not for me. I was not willing to give up my relationship with my uncle, who was the only family I had left.
Canada: 1950
The day finally came for me to leave Paris, my relatives and friends. Dorka made a big going-away party for me. She invited my uncle, aunt, cousins, her relatives and friends. Everyone asked me lots of questions. Of course, I did not have any answers about wher ei was going, or with whom I would live in Canada. I had been told that I would go to Montreal and would meet with my social worker who would make the arrangements for me to live with a family. Gretta Fisher was my assigned social worker in Canada.
Quebec City: 1950
[After a little time with various families, I found myself with the Goldberg family.] The holidays arrived and Mrs. Goldberg prepared some festive Jewish dishes. I enjoyed the holiday food but, to be honest, I was bored with the services. Not being able to read Hebrew or understand the prayers made it very unpleasant for me. We went to Kol Nidre, the service preceding the day of Yom Kippur. This is the holiest holiday in the Jewish religion. The chanting on Kol Nidre is very moving. When I heard the music that evening, it penetrated deep into my heart and made me very sad. It brought back memories from my childhood, from the past, my family and all the religious experiences when I lived with my parents and my siblings. I had been a very young child when I lived in Okuniew, barely five when Hitler invaded Poland.
This was the big turning point in my life I had to choose between Catholicism and Judaism. Deep in my heart, I had a longing for my roots, my heritage, and a feeling that I belonged to the Jewish people. My connection to the Catholic Church completely changed. I knew that I could no longer betray my parents, my grandparents, my sisters, my brothers and relatives. From this moment on, I stopped going to church. I no longer had the need to worship I the Catholic Church. I knew deep in my heart that I belonged to the Jewish people. I have never shared these experiences with anyone. Although I currently do not attend synagogue on a regular basis, it is important to me to recapture my past and honor where I come from.
[After attending University], I decided I wanted to teach young children, and for four years I taught second grade. My first school was on the outskirts of Montreal. I had a second grade class with a racially diverse population. I loved teaching the seven-year-olds; they are totally devoted to the teacher. We had good times together. Because the class was interracial, we had some interesting discussions in our social studies classes. I always liked art and so we had painting sessions in our classroom every Friday. At times the parents invited me for lunch and tea, which gave me a better insight into family dynamics. I really enjoyed the youngsters and had a very good time teaching.
Although I was happy teaching, I was not totally satisfied with only two years of college, so I decided to enroll in college to get my Bachelor of Arts degree. I went to St. George William University at night and during the summer, and taught school during the day. After I got my degree, I continued to teach elementary school children, which I enjoyed best.
A New Beginning
I feel that I have come a long way since my existence in the small, primitive village of Okuniew in Poland. My life in Okuniew was simple but happy, surrounded by my family, my dear parents and siblings. Of course, all this drastically changed when Hitler invaded Poland on September 1, 1939. Our lives were shattered and destroyed forever. The loss of my family was devastating.
Nevertheless, I survived and I am a testimony to what happened during the years of Hitler’s attempted genocide on the Jewish people. I picked myself up and decided to go on living. I made a new life for myself, a life hat has given me much happiness and a promise of a future and hope in the United States of America. I have come to the conclusion that any person can overcome obstacles in life with determination, a strong will and a willingness to work hard.
I overcame the obstacle of learning a new language, got an education and began teaching school at the age of eighteen. I married a Jewish American man and had a good marriage and family, which was my pride and joy. I have three great children, with their spouses, and six wonderful grandchildren.
My life has included travel, and I have enjoyed friends and numerous cultural activities. I love the theatre, plays, dance and concerts. I enjoy the outdoors and was an avid hiker in my younger days in the Canadian Rockies, the Grand Tetons and the Grand Canyon. I still enjoy physical activities and got to the gym as often as time permits.
In spite of all this, I still miss my family, so much so that it took me fifty years because I could speak in public about my personal past and the Holocaust. We survivors are caught between the living and the dead. We continue to lament our families who perished.
The Holocaust is now history. It happened a long tie ago, yet it is difficult to understand that this could have happened to human beings in the 20th century. It is incomprehensible: the mass murder of Jews and other son such a lore scale. Andre Malraux summed it up well: “This was the century that killed man.”
In 2003, I arrived in Santa Barbara, California, and became involved wit the Jewish Federation of Greater Santa Barbara, where my story is featured in a permanent exhibit, Portraits of Survival: Life Journeys during the Holocaust and Beyond.
I am now a volunteer and docent of the Portraits exhibit and speak to many groups of all ages about my experiences, growing up in Poland and as a first-hand witness to the Holocaust. Groups of school children visit the exhibit and my fellow survivors and I talk to them about our lives and our personal histories. We also go to schools to tell our stories and give presentations.
It has become much easier for me to share my experiences now, and it has helped me to deal with the past. I have become aware of how important it is to inform young people about how destructive and damaging anti-Semitism can be, and prejudice of any kind. It is imperative that we teach the new generation to be kind and accepting of people of different religions and race. The world is in great turmoil; it is my hope that we can build a better world of peace for our children, our grandchildren and all mankind. That is why I am sharing my story.
Segal, Maria. Personal Interview. 8 Jul. 2014.
Much of the text is credited to Maria Segal
Segal, Maria. Maria's Story: Childhood Memories of the Holocaust. California: BoehmGroup, 2009. Print.
You can purchase a copy of Maria's memoir on Amazon via this link. It is available in print and on the Kindle.
http://www.amazon.com/Marias-Story-Childhood-Memories-Holocaust/dp/0976800829
Genocide of Jews and other nations must never happen again.
This must be a lesson to future generations. Hitler was an evil man and he inspired other Germans to carry out the "Final Solution"--the destruction of all Jews in Europe, in addition to many other non-Jews of whom Hitler disapproved: gypsies, homosexuals, the handicapped and the mentally ill.
Hitler considered the Germans a superior race. When Hitler became chancellor of Germany in 1933, his plan was to eliminate all European Jews and other individuals of whom he disapproved politically or socially.
Hitler established concentration camps in Germany and Poland. When he invaded Poland in September of 1939, he established ghettos in European cities so he could round up all the Jews and confine them in a small area. Once the Jews were confined in the ghettos, Germany had full control over their destiny: send them to the death camps-to complete what the Nazi government called "The Final Solution."
The Hitler government slaughtered 6,000,000 European Jews--most of the Jews in Europe. Perhaps he never thought that the handful of Jews who survived the ghettos and concentration camps would survive to tell the world of the atrocities and barbarity to committed against humanity.
Genocide like the Holocaust must never happen again to anyone, no matter what their race or religion--white, black, Jews, or Catholic. This should be a lesson to the world: one maniac can build a large enough following to support him in genocide.
Never Again! Never Again! "Never Again" should be our motto.
My Early Childhood: 1935
In my backyard, we had trees. I loved climbing trees. I was obnoxious at times and wanted to eat my food in the tree, and when my mom asked me to come down, I refused. I made my mom angry at times. I guess I had no fear and was somewhat of a tomboy. I would climb to the "tippy-top" of the cherry tree and shake the very thin branches, I loved to eat the cherries. My mother was terrified and yelled at me to come down. To this day I like to buy cherries when they are available; today my children buy me cherries because they know how much I enjoy them.
I seemed to have a great deal of energy as a child and felt very alive. I was a carefree bird enjoying the outdoors and my freedom to run around.
The Onset of World War II
It seemed everything in those days was scary and secretive. Wherever we went there were German soldiers parading around in their green uniforms and helmets, with carbines handing over their shoulders. They always had fierce dogs. They never smiled much, always looking angry and unapproachable. This tense atmosphere hung over the community for weeks, maybe even months.
One evening there was a lot of commotion in town. The adults were rushing around, talking to neighbors, blank looks on their troubled faces. Of course we children became agitated and wanted to ask questions, but we were afraid to because of the tension in the air. Finally, late that evening my parents gathered all the children around the pot-bellied stove and broke the news to us about the unrest. Rumor had it that the Germans were planning to round up all the Jews in town and deport them to the Warsaw Ghetto.
In the Warsaw Ghetto: 1940
About 500,000 Jews were confined in the Warsaw Ghetto, which consisted of several city streets surrounded by tall brick walls, with barbed wire and glass on top to prevent any escape. The Jews from Warsaw and the surrounding areas were brought into the Ghetto, dumped and left to fend for themselves.
Jews were not permitted to leave the Ghetto. In some places one could find openings, heavily guarded by the Gestapo on the Polish side and by the Jewish militia inside the Ghetto walls. Gentiles were permitted to enter the Ghetto for business purposes. Many Gentiles took advantage of the situation by exchanging food for furs and jewels if cash was available. Very often people would give anything they had of a piece of bread. The only goat this point was survival, and it was most certainly a survival of the fittest.
On occasion I would go to the market with my mother and sister. It was an outdoor market and my mother would complain about how expensive even potatoes were. At times many staples were unavailable, depending what the farmers brought in that day from the nearby Gentile villages. Mother tried her best to obtain food to sustain the family with the limited resources we had. Most of the time mother fed us soup—usually very watery. Bread was a true luxury, and we all lined up in the kitchen to get a piece. My mother rationed it very carefully, as there was usually not enough to go around more than once. There were times, however when we did not have enough for even a ration of one piece of bread per person. Since carrots were relatively inexpensive by comparison, my mother bought more carrots than anything else and we would crunch away on them like rabbits. To this day, I hate carrots with a passion they bring back memories of the Warsaw Ghetto and an endlessly empty stomach. Stasia (a Gentile) came to the Ghetto and asked my mother if I could go back with her to Okuniew to look after her cow. It was decided that I would leave the ghetto with Stasia; in this way I could help my family. Some of my father’s customers owed him money for shoe repairs and shoes he had made for them when we lived in Okuniew prior to deportation. I went out to the surrounding villages and collected what he was owed and was able to amass some food and money to bring to my family. I did this twice and my family was overjoyed when I returned to the Ghetto with bread, potatoes, and even some chickens. We had a true feast.
The third time I went to Warsaw with Stasia, when we tried to get back into the Ghetto, it was impossible. Security at the walls had become extremely tight and the guards would not let us in. we tried multiple crossings in the event that some other guards would be more lenient, but we had no luck with any of them, and turned back toward Okuniew.
That was the last time I saw my family. I felt very sad and perhaps guilty that no one from my family escaped the Ghetto—except me, alone.
I will never forget my mother’s expression the day I left with Stasia for the first time. My mother was standing by the kitchen window with my little sister looking on. After a few minutes’ silence she said to me, “Go. You are the only one in the family that has a chance to survive, because all of us will be killed sooner or later.” That really bothered me because my true intention was not to be the only one to survive. My hope was to go back and forth between the Ghetto and Okuniew and help our family obtain food. After I lost contact with my family I could not stop thinking abut my mother’s last words to me.
Return to Okuniew: 1941
Stasia and Janek owned a one-bedroom house on a small piece of property. They had no children; they owned a skinny cow named Betsy. The reason that Stasia took me out of the Ghetto is because she needed someone to take care of Betsy when she traveled back and forth to the Warsaw Ghetto. My responsibility was to take the black and white cow into the pasture ever morning and bring her home in the evening, in time to be milked. Each morning I got up at dawn, packed a sack of lunch, put it in a small bundle over my shoulder, and Betsy and I left for the green pasture. There I joined other boys and girls from Okuniew looking after their cows. In a sense it was fun for a while: no school and very few responsibilities.
[Then I went to stay with the Polansky family. One day] there was a knock at the front door. Mrs. Polansky went to the door to ask who it was. When the voice replied, "Police and Gestapo," Mr. Polansky immediately pushed me out the back window into the cornfield and told them that I no longer lived there. When the police left, the Polanskys came out to the cornfield to bring me food and a blanket. I was afraid to spend the night there. Together ,we decided that it was no longer safe for me to remain in their home. Apparently, the Germans had decided to round up all the remaining Jews in town, and I was on their list. The cornfield became my living quarters for several days.
Two weeks went by since the Gestapo and Polish police came to look for me. The Germans killed the other Jews in town; why would they spare me? While living in Okuniew since my time in the Ghetto, I had made the acquaintance of a young woman and her family. Wanda was in her twenties with very pretty dark long hair and a beautiful face. Her father was a Polish policeman in town and I was certain that he was aware of my existence a long time before they came to get me.
When my safety in the Polansky home was in jeopardy, Wanda sent word through her mother, telling me to come to Warsaw to live with her.
I had to plan my escape very carefully so as not to let the Poles recognize me. I said good-bye to my family in Okuniew and thanked them for taking care of me. After all, they risked their own life to protect me. If the Germans found out that they were harboring a Jewish child they could have killed them all.
The Escape: 1944
As I walked toward the station, I began to recognize some of the people from the Okuniew village taking their wares to Warsaw for business. I wore a kerchief on my head and tried to avoid looking at anyone that I knew.
It was a short train ride, around thirty minutes. My concept of time was a little fuzzy in those days. When I arrived in Warsaw, Wanda was waiting for me at the station. We went directly to her grocery store in the center of town. I was happy to see Wanda; she was warm and interested in my welfare, and we had a close relationship with each other.
Wanda began to teach me how to put things away and even sell some small uncomplicated items [in her grocery store]. I was happy as long as Wanda was with me. No one suspected that I was Jewish and when people asked, Wanda told them that I was her daughter. Wanda was really kind to me; in time I did consider her like a mother. The days went by quickly, and my thoughts of my family diminished slightly however, I did not forget them.
[One time, during an air raid, we] sat patiently in the dark, hoping that the bombings would quiet down so we could return to our apartment as we always did after an air raid.
Unfortunately, this time it was different. After several hours of hiding we were suddenly interrupted by two uniformed German soldiers motioning to us with their fingers: Come, come.”
There was no question in our minds of disobeying their orders and we all followed them upstairs. When we got upstairs, the Germans loaded us on their trucks and whisked us away to a large open field. At the field, they took all the men, old and young, while all the women and children remained. There were rumors of the men being shot. Indeed, as we waited we heard gunshots in the near distance—echoing the unknown sad news.
The women and children tried to maintain their composure, but it was difficult. There was a lot of crying when the soldiers lined us up, their rifles pointed in our direction, the direction of the women and children.
One of the older German soldiers tried to console the frightened women and children awaiting their unknown fate. He said that he, too, had a while and children at home and did not enjoy his assignment. He was merely carrying out orders.
The suspense of the unknown was painful, and each minutes seemed more like an hour. The guns continued to point in our direction. At the precise moment when the pointed machine guns were getting ready to fire, a miracle occurred a tall uniformed German officers on a white horse came out of nowhere and charge din front of the firing squad. This god-like human being raised his right hand, hollering, “Halt!”
Slowly the firing squad dropped their weapons and retreated gradually, one by one. An enormous sigh of relief emanated from the frightened group of women and children.
The following day, early in the morning, our group was escorted by the German soldiers to Paszow, a temporary camp, to process us for transport to a concentration camp. First, we had to submit to a medical examination conducted by a team of Polish doctors.
The doctors took it upon themselves to paint us with yellow chalk and tell the Germans that we had jaundice. Since the Germans were terrified of contagious diseases, they took the doctors’ advice to let us go.
Now that we were out of Warsaw and spared from going to a concentration camp, we had to decide what to do next and where to go. Of course, without a home or money, that was not an easy task. In addition, as residents of Warsaw, we were still hunted down by the Germans. Wanda came up wit ha good idea. She remembered that her husband had paid for a summer vacation on a farm in the country. “Let’s find the farm,” she said, “and see if they would be willing to let us stay there while we look for Jurek.” Jurek was in the Polish resistance, and we had no idea whether he was dead or alive.
We had no means of support, but as Wanda was an entrepreneur, she started a small business selling bread on the black market. Of course, I was always by her side, helping out whenever I could.
Back in Bydogoszcz: 1947
Wanda sent me to a convent every Wednesday afternoon where the nuns taught me about Catholicism. Although Wanda and Jurek never forced me to worship in their faith, I had a very strong need to belong to a church and pray to God The religion was extremely important to me. It gave me strength to go on and hope that one day I might find my family of birth. I was a very good Catholic; I obeyed my family and God, and went to confession once a week to atone for my wrongdoings.
All this time, I never gave up hope and continued to search for my real family. I had some recollection of an uncle named Abraham living in Paris, France. He was a younger brother of m father and when I was a little girl in Poland, he used to visit us with his wife Gittel. I also remember the many presents he brought us when he visited Okuniew. Before going to Denmark, I had written to my uncle and, to my amazement, I heard back from him. He wrote that he wanted me to come to Paris to live with him and his common-law wife Edzia and Edzia’s daughter Helene, who was about my age. My uncle was in his late 40’s at the time. To bring me to Paris, he had to seek permission from the French government, which entailed much red tape and paperwork.
Shortly after I received the letter from my uncle, two tall men in dark suits arrived at our apartment, telling me that I was to leave for Paris in two days to be reunited with my uncle. I had a hard time comprehending the news, and I had only one day to get ready, to pack and to say goodbye to my family and my best friend Basia. Wanda and I were both confused, not fully comprehending the meaning of all of this.
Paris: 1948
All of the Jewish children from Poland were housed in a suburb of Warsaw for several days prior to going to Paris. We were given false papers to enable us to cross the German-French border.
Just before boarding the train, we were told hat our destination was Israel with s stopover in Paris. “Well,” I told everyone, “I am not going to Israel. I am going to Paris my uncle is expecting me. “
The train ride was long and tiring. We arrived, cleaned up and had dinner, then went upstairs to get ready for bed. I asked one of the counselors if my uncle would be coming to get me, and his reply was, “You do not have an uncle.” I was devastated and realized that I had been deceived while still in Poland. I felt desperate.
The next day we were told to pack and bring our suitcases to the waiting bug. I refused to take my luggage to the bus, but they dragged me; then I refused to put my suitcase on the bus.
At midnight, my uncle Abraham arrived at the gate. The security people refused to let him in. he got extremely angry and told them that I was his only living relative and that he had been a prisoner in Auschwitz. After much arguing, he succeeded in getting me out before the group left for Israel. It was quite a victory to be free again. Needless to say, I was I was very happy to see my uncle.
Uncle Abraham and I got along just fine; my cousin Helen was also nice to me and we had a good time together. Edzia, his common-law wife, was an entirely different story.
I had only been with my relatives a few days when I realized that living in this situation would not work for me. I decided to go to the kiosk down the street and buy a Polish newspaper. I found out the name of the editor of this paper and went to see him: Mr. Marymont. I explained to him my need to go to church and, as a Catholic himself, he understood. He offered to take me home with him to his wife and his two young children. I spent the weekend with the Marymonts and Monday morning we drove back to Paris. He put me under the care of two young women who worked for him.
Mr. Marymont came up with the idea of enrolling me in a Polish boarding school in Paris. I loved the boarding school. All the classes were in Polish, and on Sunday I could go to church and no one would try to prevent me. I learned a great deal, and the classes were small. We went to museums, and the theater and even the opera.
I was introduced to a Jewish couple from Montreal, Canada. They wanted to adopt a young orphan without any family attachments. I decided I was not interested in being adopted. Because they wanted a child without any family, I would have to give up my relationship with my uncle. It was a good idea, but not for me. I was not willing to give up my relationship with my uncle, who was the only family I had left.
Canada: 1950
The day finally came for me to leave Paris, my relatives and friends. Dorka made a big going-away party for me. She invited my uncle, aunt, cousins, her relatives and friends. Everyone asked me lots of questions. Of course, I did not have any answers about wher ei was going, or with whom I would live in Canada. I had been told that I would go to Montreal and would meet with my social worker who would make the arrangements for me to live with a family. Gretta Fisher was my assigned social worker in Canada.
Quebec City: 1950
[After a little time with various families, I found myself with the Goldberg family.] The holidays arrived and Mrs. Goldberg prepared some festive Jewish dishes. I enjoyed the holiday food but, to be honest, I was bored with the services. Not being able to read Hebrew or understand the prayers made it very unpleasant for me. We went to Kol Nidre, the service preceding the day of Yom Kippur. This is the holiest holiday in the Jewish religion. The chanting on Kol Nidre is very moving. When I heard the music that evening, it penetrated deep into my heart and made me very sad. It brought back memories from my childhood, from the past, my family and all the religious experiences when I lived with my parents and my siblings. I had been a very young child when I lived in Okuniew, barely five when Hitler invaded Poland.
This was the big turning point in my life I had to choose between Catholicism and Judaism. Deep in my heart, I had a longing for my roots, my heritage, and a feeling that I belonged to the Jewish people. My connection to the Catholic Church completely changed. I knew that I could no longer betray my parents, my grandparents, my sisters, my brothers and relatives. From this moment on, I stopped going to church. I no longer had the need to worship I the Catholic Church. I knew deep in my heart that I belonged to the Jewish people. I have never shared these experiences with anyone. Although I currently do not attend synagogue on a regular basis, it is important to me to recapture my past and honor where I come from.
[After attending University], I decided I wanted to teach young children, and for four years I taught second grade. My first school was on the outskirts of Montreal. I had a second grade class with a racially diverse population. I loved teaching the seven-year-olds; they are totally devoted to the teacher. We had good times together. Because the class was interracial, we had some interesting discussions in our social studies classes. I always liked art and so we had painting sessions in our classroom every Friday. At times the parents invited me for lunch and tea, which gave me a better insight into family dynamics. I really enjoyed the youngsters and had a very good time teaching.
Although I was happy teaching, I was not totally satisfied with only two years of college, so I decided to enroll in college to get my Bachelor of Arts degree. I went to St. George William University at night and during the summer, and taught school during the day. After I got my degree, I continued to teach elementary school children, which I enjoyed best.
A New Beginning
I feel that I have come a long way since my existence in the small, primitive village of Okuniew in Poland. My life in Okuniew was simple but happy, surrounded by my family, my dear parents and siblings. Of course, all this drastically changed when Hitler invaded Poland on September 1, 1939. Our lives were shattered and destroyed forever. The loss of my family was devastating.
Nevertheless, I survived and I am a testimony to what happened during the years of Hitler’s attempted genocide on the Jewish people. I picked myself up and decided to go on living. I made a new life for myself, a life hat has given me much happiness and a promise of a future and hope in the United States of America. I have come to the conclusion that any person can overcome obstacles in life with determination, a strong will and a willingness to work hard.
I overcame the obstacle of learning a new language, got an education and began teaching school at the age of eighteen. I married a Jewish American man and had a good marriage and family, which was my pride and joy. I have three great children, with their spouses, and six wonderful grandchildren.
My life has included travel, and I have enjoyed friends and numerous cultural activities. I love the theatre, plays, dance and concerts. I enjoy the outdoors and was an avid hiker in my younger days in the Canadian Rockies, the Grand Tetons and the Grand Canyon. I still enjoy physical activities and got to the gym as often as time permits.
In spite of all this, I still miss my family, so much so that it took me fifty years because I could speak in public about my personal past and the Holocaust. We survivors are caught between the living and the dead. We continue to lament our families who perished.
The Holocaust is now history. It happened a long tie ago, yet it is difficult to understand that this could have happened to human beings in the 20th century. It is incomprehensible: the mass murder of Jews and other son such a lore scale. Andre Malraux summed it up well: “This was the century that killed man.”
In 2003, I arrived in Santa Barbara, California, and became involved wit the Jewish Federation of Greater Santa Barbara, where my story is featured in a permanent exhibit, Portraits of Survival: Life Journeys during the Holocaust and Beyond.
I am now a volunteer and docent of the Portraits exhibit and speak to many groups of all ages about my experiences, growing up in Poland and as a first-hand witness to the Holocaust. Groups of school children visit the exhibit and my fellow survivors and I talk to them about our lives and our personal histories. We also go to schools to tell our stories and give presentations.
It has become much easier for me to share my experiences now, and it has helped me to deal with the past. I have become aware of how important it is to inform young people about how destructive and damaging anti-Semitism can be, and prejudice of any kind. It is imperative that we teach the new generation to be kind and accepting of people of different religions and race. The world is in great turmoil; it is my hope that we can build a better world of peace for our children, our grandchildren and all mankind. That is why I am sharing my story.
Segal, Maria. Personal Interview. 8 Jul. 2014.
Much of the text is credited to Maria Segal
Segal, Maria. Maria's Story: Childhood Memories of the Holocaust. California: BoehmGroup, 2009. Print.
You can purchase a copy of Maria's memoir on Amazon via this link. It is available in print and on the Kindle.
http://www.amazon.com/Marias-Story-Childhood-Memories-Holocaust/dp/0976800829