Into the Pabianice ghetto

Our ghetto was an open area in one of the oldest parts of Pabianice, a city steeped in history, old buildings, and tradition. It was actually called Old Town. The fact that it was open meant that there were no fences, barbed wire, or other deterrents surrounding us and keeping us in. Our barbed wire was psychological. It was the guns the soldiers carried, their willingness to kill, and the hopelessness that already afflicted us like a disease. They didn’t need a fence to keep us in.

We were too scared to leave.

Old Town had previously been home to Christians and Jews alike, but as a section of this quaint part of town was established as our official and secluded housing sector, the Christian inhabitants had to leave. The government took care of them, however. They moved into nicer parts of Pabianice, some gaining possession and moving into the homes and apartments of former Jewish residents who themselves were forced to relocate to the ghetto.

The buildings in this area were older than others, host to climbing vines, crumbling masonry, and cracked windowpanes. Our entire family was forced to live in one room. Others were made to live the same way, and thus we found ourselves without privacy and without space.

The Nazis gave us a very strict curfew, and we had to obey. We did so without question, making sure not to leave our designated areas except when we were allowed, usually for work or during daylight hours. But without school, temple, and humanity, there was little cause to leave anyway. We spent our time talking, sharing rumors, and hoping for an end we all promised ourselves would come soon.

There were other rules as well, rules that transformed us into cattle. The ghetto in Pabianice was split in half, a main street dividing it. We were only allowed to move between buildings during the daylight hours and only then to cross the street twice a day, once in the morning and once in the late afternoon. The Nazis tracked our movement and kept close watch on us. All the while, the beatings and shootings continued.

It became habit to look for soldiers in all directions before moving at all. As shadows of humanity, we clung to corners, alleys, and darkness for safety.

We also became slaves.

The Nazis formed a Jewish committee in the ghetto, but this was not a committee formed to represent the people there to any degree. The committee’s primary function was to provide the Nazis with a list of names for slave labor to work outside the ghetto. The work varied from construction to baking to other more militaristic pursuits that could serve the war effort.

But it wasn’t always the committee’s task to name and secure workers. Often, Nazi soldiers would barge in through our doors and take people away for whatever job needed doing. These intrusions into our lives were always abrupt and violent, but—after a while—never a surprise. I was still a little too young for work and my brother was already becoming sickly. It was my father who had the most to fear from these spontaneous visits to procure slave laborers.