All language subtitles for Bruxelles-transit (Samy Szlingerbaum.1982).engl.

BRUSSELS-TRANSIT
A Story in the Yiddish Language

To Malka, my mother

I am a cart driver

I have two horses

One is white, the other is gray

My parents came from Poland in 1947.

My father and my mother were 25 years old.

My brother was 3 years old.

My home is this field

My bed is this wagon

My job is to make the horses go

I pull the reins

I shout: Hey, Tavio!

I am sitting still

Near the fire

Dreaming in the warmth

That wagon haunts me

It’s threading its way through the field

I imagine the ears of corn

Getting tangled in the wheels

The rippling corn that hides
the path of the tracks

All around us
people were sitting.

Some were sleeping...

Some were eating...

Everyone was waiting.

It lasted a very long time.

There was a delay.

We did not know what to do
with ourselves.

Lots of people were sleeping...

Lots of people were eating...

I didn't have the strength to eat.

We waited... waited.

It was endless.

That was the waiting room in Lodz.

And from Lodz, we took the train...

and travelled as far as Warsaw.

There were all kinds of people.

We fought our way through.

There wasn't enough room.

It was very unpleasant...

the smell of all those people...

Your brother could not move...

neither could we.

It wasn't very far to go,
hardly 100 kilometers.

It was not normal.

It took a whole day.

Finally we arrived...

It lasted all day long.

And we arrived in Warsaw.

We took our luggage

and we looked
for another waiting room.

Samy, that's all for today.

Please!

We arrived in Warsaw.

There everything had been destroyed.

We had to carry our bags.

No more waiting room.

We waited on the tracks.

The place was full of baggage...

children... more people,
stood there and waited.

Once again, we were on top of each other.

We couldn't find anything to eat.

No more stores, no more houses...

Nothing was left standing...

Everywhere there were ruins and rubble.

A few hours later
the train arrived.

Everyone climbed in at the same time.

Everyone was looking for a seat.

It was night time.

We travelled in sleeping cars.

Well, the sleeping cars,
were a little primitive.

Nevertheless, we could stretch out.

We hadn't brought any blankets.

It was freezing cold.

There was no heating.

We spent the whole night like that.

I don't remember any more
if the train rolled at night.

I always had the impression
that we were standing still.

We crossed a lot of borders.

I don't remember how many.

Customs officers climbed aboard
at each border.

They took us for smugglers.

They searched everybody.

We were very afraid.

When he saw all these customs officers
the little one began to cry.

Then, we arrived in Prague.

In Prague, Papa got off the train.

He went to buy a pair of gloves.

I believe that the train stayed
for a whole day in Prague.

Then we left again.

And customs officers climbed aboard again
at again another frontier.

There were a lot of borders!

The little one still couldn't sit still.

He opened all doors.

He watched everything...

he wanted to know everything.

Where he was... what he was doing...

All of a sudden, his life had changed.

In Paris, Aunt Ethel was waiting for us

with cousin Moshe and another cousin.

And uncle... I don't remember...

Yes, he waited for us too.

We stayed with Aunt Ethel.

She gave us a room.

We were well received.

We wanted to know what had happened.

I asked her if she had the photos

I had sent her before the war.

I didn't have any left.

We talked about the whole family.

We cried more than we talked.

She told us all her sorrows...

I told her all our sorrows.

Cousin Moshe suggested that
we work with him, in Paris.

We couldn't just talk about the war.

We had to earn a living, do something.

First, I did not want to stay there.

Neither did Papa.

He wanted to see an aunt in Belgium.

Uncle also wanted to come.

We stayed in Paris for 8 days.

After a week, we picked up
our bags again,

and we took the train to Belgium.

At the border, they wouldn't
let us get off the train.

We didn't have a visa for Belgium.

We had a visa for Porto-Rico.

A false visa.

Because Uncle, he was a Brazilian...

How do you say it?

Yes... he was a Brazilian "citizen".

He lived in Belgium.

He presented himself
with his briefcase...

as if he owned a factory...

He took out a bunch of papers.

They thought he was a diplomat!

He vouched for us and paid a deposit.

Then they let us get off the train.

I cried... the little one cried.

We thought they were going to
lock us up or send back.

Finally, after an hour or two
spent in the customs office

they let us go.

And on the platform
Aunt Bronia was waiting for us.

Auntie... I didn't know her.

Papa did... from before the war.

She looked like his mother.

He recognized her right away.

I didn't know her.

I looked all around me.

People... big houses...

We didn't see that in Poland.

Here, everything was intact.

Not like at home.

In Poland, everything was destroyed,
Warsaw was demolished.

Here everything was in one piece.

I looked around... and said to myself:

Here, I will rebuild my life.

I looked for our Auntie.

Papa had shown me her photo.

When they kissed

I understood it had to be the aunt.

She kissed me too.

We were all that was left of her family.

Papa... her "Mendisch"... she cried.

She was so happy to see us.

I walk around and around...

For weeks and months

In the streets where night will fall

I look for a way to forget

that I, like yesterday

Probably, I wont eat today

The aroma of fresh bread rolls

Rises from the baskets

An idea comes to me

I'll count the houses

I'll count people leaving the stores

To trick my empty stomach

I sing a song

As if to defy

A shadow once again

A dog chews a desiccated bone

Comes another who wants to take it from him

My teeth clenched, I watch them

We received a visa for one week...

And then for one month.

Each month we had to register.

Then we received a ration card...

for bread and sugar.

Everything was still as it was
during the war.

Everything was rationed.

We all went to Auntie's house.

She lived in an garret.

It was a clean little house.

There were three families...

One on the second floor.

Auntie lived in the attic.

The landlady had the first floor.

She accepted us, three tenants...
foreigners...

into her pretty little house.

We all slept in the attic.

We were five including
the Brazilian uncle.

He wanted to do import-export.

Papa said: start small.

We had brought two sewing machines
with us.

Auntie asked Ms. Constant, the landlady,
if we could set them downstairs.

She gave us the cellar.

And we lived
all together in the attic.

We got our first order.

Someone from the provinces.

that was the first money we made.

Papa was learning how to cut
at night school.

He already knew how to cut.

As a boy, he had watched his mother.

I said to him over and over:
why do you cut all that paper?

Go work for somebody.

He said:
No, I will be my own boss.

So, that's how we started,
without permits.

We stayed with our Auntie
for a few months.

She gave us lots of love.

She worked too, and didn't come
home until evening.

She gave us all that she could.

After three, four months with our Auntie
we found an apartment.

It was the home of a Jew who had left
for England during the war.

He left behind a whole apartment...

and his entire household.

It was a stroke of luck to find that.

You couldn't find a place to live.

And nobody wanted foreigners.

I remember that we had to pay

some money to take over the lease.

There were big rooms there.

Everything was old...
the cupboards, the dishes.

It was like a whole household.

One thing was not good:
We had to share the kitchen.

Oh, that kitchen...

It was really horrible!

We had only one stove.

That caused so many problems.

Besides, we rented a room
to a young man.

He was from Lodz.

He was unmarried.

He was maybe thirty years old.

I cooked for him.

And he taught me French.

He always came home at 2 in the morning.

A very gentle, quiet boy, very kind.

We had known him from Lodz.

I've forgotten his name.

Dzjelinski! That's it. I remembered.

He left everything laying around.

His shoes... his socks...

I cleaned up after him.

I felt sorry for him.

Every day, I made him a little hot meal.

We also had another neighbour,
an old lady.

Bornstein was her name.

She said over and over:

On the third floor lives a "goi"
who wants to poison me!

She locked everything up.

She hid her parcels under her bed.

She always believed that someone
was going to poison her!

It's true! It's a terrible thing
to remember! When I think of it.

In a few years if I am going to be old,
Maybe I'll be like that too.

She was so devout.

She cooked all day on Friday
for the Sabbath.

That made 20 little packages,

all tied up with string!

Old people are like that sometimes

They lock everything up.

So, those were my neighbours.

I don't remember it very well
when this happened.

The eve of a holiday, I think.

I remember very well now,

in the village where I was born my mother
used to make the dough for ferfalekh,

and the baker cooked it

I didn't have a kitchen for me alone.

I had to share it
with the other tenants.

I kneaded the dough at home.

But we didn't have an oven.

Hello.

I would like very much to make tea
for my guests.

I really would like to be able to make tea!

Minute. Clean up.

What is that?

But, what are you doing now?

Mummy, why are we going
into all the bakeries today?

For the "farfalekh".

What are "farfalekh"?
- Very good... to eat.

Hello Ma'am.
- A small loaf please.

Sliced?
- Yes.

Will that be all?
- Yes.

18.50 francs.

Your change.
- Thank you.

Yes, Ma'am?

And for the lady?

I don't really understand
what she's saying.

What do you want, ma'am?

I don't understand what she's saying.

What do you want?

She wants to cook this in your oven.

I don't mind... but what is it?

What is that?

I don't know what that is,

but she asks if she can
cook this in your oven.

Now, I understand...
Yes... I see...

She wants to cook this in our oven...

But, we can't do that.

And anyway, the oven isn't on.

It's not possible, ma'am.

When I came back,
the kitchen door was closed!

I couldn't cook...

I had to go to a neighbour's
who lived across the street,

to make something to eat.

Your father was working...

When he came home,
you were already in bed.

And when he left in the morning,
you were still sleeping.

You never saw your father.

He was very busy.

He had to earn a living.

Every two or three years
there was another problem...

Something else.

We had to move, go to another neighbourhood
and make you change schools.

It's going to rain soon

That's what the street says

The wet houses tremble

Your father was working at home.

He took some piece work.

He still spoke French badly.

Here... for Monday, for sure.

The police!

Mr. Silver... is this the right place?

It's not you?

So, this man doesn't live here anymore?

Did he leave?

And you, you live here?

Yes... yes sir.

You are not registered with
the authorities! How is this possible?

Because... because...

Because... because... what?

You are not registered here!

Because...

Show me your papers!

Yes.

Well, are you going to show them to me?

Papers! Visa!

Resident visa... passport...

Yes sir.

When you move, you have
to register with the authorities!

You should know that at least.

Is your identification card in here?

Because... because...

This is not at all in order.

Ah, tourist... travelling...

Tourists! Isn't Belgium beautiful?
Do you like it?

Because... because...

This is not at all in order.

You have to register
at the town hall, understand?

Yes... because...

Because!... I'd like to! Because!
But that is not enough, "because..."!

One day, in the street,

your grandfather meets someone
at a street-car stop.

He asks him: Are you Jewish?

I have the feeling that you are Jewish.

Pardon, sir, are you Jewish?
I have the feeling that you are Jewish.

How's that?

You don't come from Poland?

You know me?

Yes, I believe I know you from Poland.

Well, well! That's something!

Amazing! We've known each other forever,

and all of a sudden
we find each other again.

Just like that! At a street-car stop!

I thought I knew you.

I recognized your face.

But I was afraid to make a mistake.

Yes, we understand each other.

Do you see that store there?

The guy who owns it,
I knew him one year ago.

At that time,
he used to carry bags of coal.

Look now! He's doing great business!

You know how he got started?

He went into business
with a "goi".

I came with my son after the war.

I came with my son before the war.

Then do you have all your papers
so you can work?

Yes... of course!

We have two sewing machines.

You have sewing machines!

And you... you have papers?

Yes... we have papers.

Then we could work together.

But yes, we could work together!

And so everything began.

We set up the machines over there.

We placed an ad
and we hired two seamstresses.

Then we bought some material.

Little by little, we got on feet.

And that was the beginning.

Grandfather went to Antwerp.

He mainly dealt with Jews.

We didn't know enough French.

There were three partners.
It didn't bring in a lot.

I realized
that this would lead nowhere.

Your father didn't get along
with his partners.

Every so often, we had to move again.

I said to your father: I'll help you.

Let's work on our own.

But we couldn't.

We needed a business license.

We were still foreigners.

Then, we met a Jew who said
that he could take care of everything.

He had some connections.

He had been in the Resistance.

The next thing was to find a house.

Somewhere near the train station.

It was an old house.

I had to scrape off the old wallpaper.

But at least we got rid
of all our partners!

And I got to work scraping
the wallpaper off the walls...

so that the place
would be more cosy.

I scrape... and scrape the paper...

And suddenly, what's this I see?
A little safe.

I said to myself:
here I'll find a treasure!

I was all alone in the house.

I scrape... and scrape...
and finally I reach the safe!

It was locked.

If it was locked, it must hold
some money or some gold!

I took a hammer.

I started banging
with all my might.

I said to myself: I have a treasure!

You know, we needed money
to start a business.

At last I broke off the lock...

And can you imagine... it was empty!

Maybe, during the war...
Some Jews had used it to hide their money.

Someone must have taken it
and put the safe back in place.

And I find an empty safe!

At the beginning we rented the cellars
to a taxi company.

The manager's wife sewed for us.

We had even set up
the machines in the cellar.

On the second floor...

we rented an apartment
to a lady.

What was her name? I've forgotten.

The whole house was occupied.

At the end of the day, I was so tired.

But at the moment I got into bed...

the taxis were honking.

I couldn't sleep.

The hallway was full of people…
who wanted a taxi.

After two months I said to Papa:

If you don't want to send
me to the nut house...

cancel the lease on the taxi company...

and the lease on the second floor.

The children need their own room.

The boys are growing up.

We were working all the time.

Night and day, Saturday, Sunday...

We didn't have week-ends...

never a vacation...

I did the bills by hand.

We didn't have a typewriter.

Papa did the accounting.

This was how we spent our Sabbath.

I was being squeezed from all sides.

Here, a client... there, a seamstress.

Here the telephone was ringing...

There an order to send out...

Feed the children...

I never had one moment for myself.

I was running upstairs and downstairs...

Madame here, madame there!

Now I'm calmer.

I've lived here for 20 years.

I've worked here for 20 years.

In the same place...
on the same street...

That I hardly knew.

Whole days could pass
without my going out.

I was always in the workshop...

day and night

That means nothing to me anymore.

That means nothing to me anymore.

I'm uncomfortable in this house.

When business was good...
I was younger, you understand?

I was busy.

But to sit, and look at the street...

And what a street!

Not the least bit of green...
not one tree...

You see cars going by...

And across the street, some little
workshops, just like here.

I was always in the back.

I was always in the back,
in the workshop.

My whole life was this workshop.

I never saw the street.

I didn't know if it was raining...

or if it was sunny...

Or if there was wind.

Or if it was cold…
or if it was warm...

It was... things were like that for years.

Get dressed up as fast as you can...

Eat standing up...

Go down to the workshop...

First come the seamstresses...

then the customers.

Who had time to look at the street?

We ate in the kitchen
that was also in the back.

I never saw the street. I never
knew what the weather was like outside!

If it was dark ... if it was light.