Rachel Landau Quotes in Refugee
It all came flooding back to him now—swaying and humming along with the prayers, craning his neck to see the Torah when it was taken out of the ark and hoping to get a chance to touch it and then kiss his fingers as the scroll came around in a procession. Josef felt his skin tingle. The Nazis had taken all this from them, from him, and now he and the passengers on the ship were taking it back.
For as much as he’d wanted to grow up, Josef wished now that he could join them. Be a little kid again, cheerfully oblivious to what was going on around him.
But he wasn’t a kid anymore. He had responsibilities. Like keeping his sister and his mother safe.
“Don’t you see?” Lito said. “The Jewish people on the ship were seeking asylum, just like us. They needed a place to hide from Hitler. From the Nazis. Mañana, we told them. We’ll let you in mañana. But we never did.” Lito was crying now, distraught. “We sent them back to Europe and Hitler and the Holocaust. Back to their deaths. How many of them died because we turned them away? Because I was just doing my job?”
I don’t remember much about him, but I do remember he always wanted to be a grown-up. “I don’t have time for games,” he would tell me. “I’m a man now.” And when those soldiers said one of us could go free and the other would be taken to a concentration camp, Josef said, “Take me.”
My brother, just a boy, becoming a man at last.
Rachel Landau Quotes in Refugee
It all came flooding back to him now—swaying and humming along with the prayers, craning his neck to see the Torah when it was taken out of the ark and hoping to get a chance to touch it and then kiss his fingers as the scroll came around in a procession. Josef felt his skin tingle. The Nazis had taken all this from them, from him, and now he and the passengers on the ship were taking it back.
For as much as he’d wanted to grow up, Josef wished now that he could join them. Be a little kid again, cheerfully oblivious to what was going on around him.
But he wasn’t a kid anymore. He had responsibilities. Like keeping his sister and his mother safe.
“Don’t you see?” Lito said. “The Jewish people on the ship were seeking asylum, just like us. They needed a place to hide from Hitler. From the Nazis. Mañana, we told them. We’ll let you in mañana. But we never did.” Lito was crying now, distraught. “We sent them back to Europe and Hitler and the Holocaust. Back to their deaths. How many of them died because we turned them away? Because I was just doing my job?”
I don’t remember much about him, but I do remember he always wanted to be a grown-up. “I don’t have time for games,” he would tell me. “I’m a man now.” And when those soldiers said one of us could go free and the other would be taken to a concentration camp, Josef said, “Take me.”
My brother, just a boy, becoming a man at last.
