In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

72 The Declaration Leonie Taffel Bergman It has been a long voyage—to America. I do not mean the eight days on the Atlantic Ocean but the long years before that led to this day. My sister, Clara, and I were orphaned during the last year of World War II. Both our parents had been taken to Auschwitz on the final transport from Malines (Mechelen, Belgium), No. 26, July 31, 1944. Their deaths have been officially declared by the Ministère de la Reconstruction de Belgique, in 1947, and by the Red Cross, in an acknowledgment sent to me in 1983. I had been hiding in several places in or near Brussels, by myself, living with different families, probably six or more, during the summer and fall of 1942, each time returning to one or both of my parents in the dark of evenings, always without knowing when or how this would take place, but going when I was told. Later that year a different home, of longer duration, was to be found for me. In December 1942, I began a new life in a Franciscan convent in Tervuren, near Brussels. My sister, who is nearly five years younger than I, was only two at the time. She was hidden with a family who lived on a farm not far from the convent, where she remained for over three years. This family raised her as their own young child, although she does tell of harsh treatment. One event she recalls, and does not know why it happened, is that when she was sent to the basement to bring up some potatoes , someone from above pushed her down the steps, and she hurt her lip severely. She vividly remembers the surprise and the sensation, and the pain, but cannot add anything that would explain it. Who and why are still to be answered. When Brussels was liberated by the Allies in September 1944, there was great celebration. It seemed as if everyone was out on the main streets, watching the soldiers , waving to them, finding people who hadn’t been seen in a long time—being reunited with close ones. It was a time of joy. Several months later, when Germany surrendered in May 1945, the war in Europe was officially over. At last the fear could end. People could safely return, to find their loved ones; to find their homes; to find their lives. Many searched for those people important to them and hoped to have normalcy again in their lives. I, too, allowed myself to hope for what I and others anticipated would bring happiness back to us. If the time between liberation and the end of World War II had not brought any change for me, now I could expect to be claimed by someone who considered me theirs. My life was finally to be open. I could actually begin to “live” on the outside and not in hiding. I was more aware of reality than ever before. I could see how happy people were when someone freed them and took them “home.” But hope disappeared for me. Nobody came looking for me. Nobody, if anybody tried, could find me. Didn’t anybody care? Didn’t I belong somewhere? Didn’t I belong to someone? I am nine years old, and wondering: what will happen to me; what is my future? Then I have my tenth birthday; it is the summer of 1945. I am still living in the convent. The nuns have always been nice to me. Some (maybe all) knew I was Hidden with Rescuers 73 Jewish, and they did not try to convert me. I, along with everyone in the convent, always participated in morning prayers, which took place in the chapel. This would include Communion and the taking of the sacramental wafer, given to everyone . However, because I was not Catholic I could not be included. I knew this and accepted it. But others might question why I was not participating. So Mother Superior let it be known that I was sickly and, therefore, needed to drink something when I woke up. This intake made me ineligible for the full Communion observation . In this way my Jewish identity was protected. I also participated in the choir for Christmas Mass, even dressing as an angel one year and going “on stage” with beautiful wings on my back. I liked being included in this important event, and being able to do so, openly. Since I had...

Share