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Sculptor Marika Somogyi's Story
I always felt that my story of the Holocaust is so uneventful compared
to my friends and relatives that I never felt it was interesting
enough to talk about it. Because I was a child when it all happened
I was never clear about the dates, and I felt it made the story
not valid. Now I know that for children dates are meaningless.
I Become Maria Gaal
I only knew that the hard part for me started when we had to leave
our beautiful home overlooking the royal castle. This was the time
when I realized that something horrible is going to happen to us.
My father was no longer in charge of what happens to the family.
But in this I was wrong. He convinced the Gray Nuns to save his
daughter.
I only
knew that on the night I was supposed to move from my home to go
with my parents to the so-called "Jewish House" a nun appeared at
the foot of my bed. I thought it was an angel. Her name was Natalie
Palagyi. She told me, from now on my name will be Maria Gaal, a
Roman Catholic, illegitimate daughter of a farmhand!
I still went over to the "Jewish House," a large tenement designated
to house hundreds of Jews. I still saw the future home of my parents
- a dark cubicle, shared with complete strangers. We said goodbye,
promising to pray for each other in the hope we will see each other
again. My mother hastily removed the big yellow star that I had
to wear on my coat, gave me a small bag with extra clothing, and
I started my life alone, as Maria Gaal.
When I arrived at the convent of the Gray Nuns, the Mother Superior
(Margit Schlachta) had bad news for me. There was no more room.
The place is full of refugee girls. A nun took me over to the convent
of the Sisters of Mercy, asking them to hide me. We were unceremoniously
thrown out from there. Saying something to the effect that a Jew
should never breach their threshold.
On the Run
A few days later after intense indoctrination in Catholic religion
and prayers (I had to be able to recite any prayer when woken up
from my dream in the middle of the night), I left Budapest for a
provincial city called Pécs together with about ten girls, also
with false papers. There we lived in another convent until somebody
from the city, suspecting that Jews were hiding there, called the
police.
Back to Budapest.
The situation there was worsening. We had to leave again. This time
we were housed in a small convent in the town of Balaton Boglar.
Here only a few weeks later suspicious neighbors alarmed to gendarme.
They broke into the convent. They shot Sister Sarah, while myself
and six other girls jumped out of the window. We run for eight kilometers
until we reach Lake Balaton. The boat was just leaving. We run up
the plank and saw the gendarme on horseback behind us. The captain
hastily pulled up the gangway when he realized what was happening.
While we were shaking he shouted to the gendarme that he will be
back soon.
Back to Budapest. Harrowing train trip, when we were sure we would
be discovered.
Speaking Yiddish to the Gestapo
Again we could not stay there. I don't know what happened to the
rest of the girls, but I was smuggled in to a group of Christian
children who were taken out from Budapest to the provinces to save
them from bombing. We were housed in peasant homes, except myself.
I went to the house of the village priest of Csököly. His name was
Béla Körmendy and unbeknown to the nuns he was a Fascist. So as
the Russian army was advancing he kept retreating to the west with
the German army - taking me with him farther and farther away from
my liberators. In the meantime, I was the only one in the village
who could speak German. So I had the terrible role of interpreting
to the Gestapo when they interrogated captured partisans before
they were shot. I still break out in a cold sweat if I think of
that role because now I know that I mixed some Yiddish expressions
in my German. Thank G-d for the ignorance of the Germans.
My Brief Career as an "Altar Boy"
Finally after sleeping every night in a different stable in flight
from the Red Army, the Soviets caught up with us. I was liberated
but still didn't dare to reveal my true identity.
Amusing sideline in this sad story: During this time I served as
an "altar boy." The Catholic Church allows girls near the altar
if no males are available. Since the Reverend had no males in his
household and had to say mass every day (in attics, kitchens, etc.)
my assistance was the only solution. And it had to be done in Latin!
A Miracle
Soon after the war was over in that part of the country, the Gray
Nuns found me and I went to live with Sister Etelka, in the village
of Böszenfa. There in July of 1945 my parents found me, and slowly
I found out their harrowing story, about how they stayed alive.
Anybody who survived had a story of a miracle. And it always was
a miracle.
About a half year after we said goodbye at the Jewish House, the
Hungarian Nazis (the "Arrow Cross") came to the house and ordered
everybody into the street. They were marched to the banks of the
Danube River, that runs through the city. By then they heard rumors
about Jews being shot and thrown into the half frozen river. When
they were lined up they knew what was waiting for them. Then an
Arrow Cross officer arrived on a motorcycle. My parents' name was
called. They were taken out of the lineup and were marched to the
feared headquarters of the Party. They still heard the machine guns
and screaming behind them.
There they found out why they were singled out of the crowd. I was
missing from the list of occupants of the Jewish house. They knew
I was hiding somewhere and wanted to find out who is hiding Jewish
children. My parents were thrown in a coal cellar and next day they
started to interrogate my father. It went on for a few days; then
he was told that they will torture my mother in front of him on
the following day. Next morning, as he was led upstairs, he saw
a discarded newspaper headlining the fall of the Eastern city Szeged
to the Red Army. My father told his interrogators that he was ready
to make a confession. His daughter is in the city of Szeged, hiding
in the house of Mr. Kovacs, and gave a full address.
Next morning they were marched to the Ghetto, where all Jews who
were still alive were crowded in. Unbeknown to them, it was planned
that the Ghetto was to be blown up on January 18th. The Red Army
marched in on January 16th.
My brother, who lives now in Israel, was already a teenager then
and went with the Partisans. He was never on the list at the Jewish
House because he went underground much earlier. This is the story
how we stayed alive. By saving me, my parents' lives were spared.
Most of my relatives lived in a small town called Györ. All the
children were shot on the central park and the grownups were taken
to Auschwitz. None returned. |
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