translation - colby collegepersonal.colby.edu/~dbsuchof/yiddish text.pdf · see in a mill,right...
TRANSCRIPT
Warsaw Ghetto, October 1941
here you stand: in front of every house there’s already a
crush of pushcarts with fruit and vegetables, and little
stands with foodstuffs. These food stands are minuscule: an
old Jewish woman has placed a few small bags of meal on a
little stool or table, weighing two or three kilos each, with
corn meal, brown bread, and bona (the flour that bakers
receive from the Occupation authorities to bake the daily
allotment of bread). Or groats, millet, or barley. No other
kinds of food, such as beans or flour or dried preserves, are
typically found on the little tables, such as might be seen in
the stores. The prices here, of course, are a bit cheaper in
comparison with other streets – after all, it’s Kozla Alley! –
but they’re still high enough for a large portion of Warsaw
Jews, whom the ghetto has robbed of the chance to make a
living, and left with dangling, empty hands, with only one
chance to sustain a meager existence: selling off their clothes
and household items in the Wolówka, the flea market.
Rickshaws are the major mode of transport – that unique
way of getting around in the Warsaw ghetto that the Jews,
those cosmopolitans, never shy to adapt what they need from
anyplace whatsoever, took from the Japanese and Chinese.
The rickshaw was a great help to Kozla Alley, and not because
droshkies and wagons have disappeared since the Germans
confiscated the horses of Jewish drivers: that would not have
been so bad. The Jewish porter in Warsaw can, believe me,
carry a healthy sack of flour on his back. But what’s the use if
he can’t do it in broad daylight? For the eye of the informer is
always on the lookout. With the rickshaw, however, it’s a dif-
ferent game. Jews have modified and perfected the design
beyond the wildest dreams of the Chinese. Behind the seat is
an empty space where you can hide a few packets of flour,
and make yourself comfortable on the plush seat like
nobody’s business: and make as if you’re just taking a little
jaunt into the alley.
But not everyone who gets food from Kozla Alley trans-
ports it in a rickshaw. Most go on foot, and these are in fact
the mainstay of Kozla – the middlemen, together with their
agents, the “strollers.” Since they can’t afford transportation,
their rickshaws are their own backs, on which it’s not
unusual for them to load three or four sacks of flour, groats,
or other foodstuffs at a time. A sack usually weights fifty
kilos, but still, Jacob sets forth.
Nighttime smuggling provides the smugglers’ shops with
plenty of everything: vegetables and fruit, groceries, meat,
chicken, honey, and whatever the heart desires. Even with
good drink. The city needs to eat in the morning, and the
strollers need a whole day for their work. In the summer at
five in the morning you can already see them hauling bags of
food or a sack of potatoes and cans of milk. With their fresh
faces, washed by the morning light, enlivened by their ardor,
these are working Jews who can eat their fill, whose steps
move with a feeling of confidence and power – amid the sur-
rounding crowd of swollen feet.
Kozla Alley has several even-numbered houses, inhabited
by Christians, but the entrances to the houses and doors have
been walled up. Their entrances are now on the other side of
the wall, on Freta Street, meaning outside the ghetto, with
only a few windows of several apartments looking out to the
ghetto. This layout is indeed a blessing, not just for the few
goyim who live in these homes, but for the Jews as well, and,
let’s be clear, not just for the Jews of Kozla Alley and its smug-
glers, but for all of Israel in Warsaw. For no matter how dirty
the smuggling business finally is – a noose hung around the
neck of the swollen and varicose consumer – given the hor-
rific conditions of the great prison into which the Jews have
been driven by the ghetto walls, smuggling is the only salva-
tion left for the survivors, that saving remnant. And who
knows: maybe someday we will have to erect a memorial to
the smuggler whose courage, in retrospect, saved a good part
of Jewish Warsaw from starving to death...
On the outside, the windows of the Christian houses are
covered with wire grates from top to bottom. At first glance,
or so it seems, the gratings were meant to keep the goyishe
home separate from the Jewish street, but in fact, the wire
bars are a good way to carry out the smuggling. From the
inside, the goy places a kind of wooden chute, like you would
COMING SOON FROM THE NEW YIDDISH LIBRARY
Smuggling in the Warsaw Ghettoby Peretz Opoczynski
Introduction and translation by David Suchoff
F A L L 2 0 0 6
T
Translationthcgrzgmubd
P A K N T R E G E R
tuhci tuhpi Pkhuagbgo dgzgx uuh ehhi n†k d†rbhay: †y x≤o
Tzuh p†r thl zhl T chxk thcgr thi dTx///
†cgr bhay Tkgw uu†x ]phri[ aPz pui e†zg-dgxk p†ri
nhy sgr rheag/ sgr ruç dhhy mu puxw tui yTeg sh hgbhegw
uu†x zgbgi sgr vuhPy†bkgi pui e†zg-dgxkw hgbg †Pbgngr
tui tubygrvTkygrw sh Idhhgrx"w zhh e†bgi zhl ehhi rheagx
bhay sgrkuhciw zhhgr rheag zgbgi sh ]thhdgbg[ Pkhhmgxw
tuh; uugkfg zhh k†sguugi †i bhay zgkyi mu sr-phr cykgl
ngkw eTag tui Tbsgrg nhbho aPz tuh; T n†k/ T cyk
v†y dguuhhbkgl pupmi ehk† uu†d tui uhkl hgeç ≈
uuTragw dgy†w †ey†cgrw 1491
† ayhhy ngi auhi dgshfy pTr hgsi vuhz nhy uugdgkgl
drhbmd tui tuhcxy tui nhy ergnkgl pui aPz/ sh
aPzergnkgl zgbgi ekhhbg/ tuh; T cgbek mh T yhak v†y T
hHsgbg///ayhhi T P†r y†rcgkgl nhy ngk mu muuhh-sr ehk†:
e†rbngkw IrTzUuueg" tui Ic†bg"-ngk )s†x ngkw uu†x sh
cgegr cTeungi pui sgr †euPTmhg-nTfy mu cTei
e†byhbdgby-cruhy(w †sgr eTagw vhrza tui PgbyaTe: ehhi
Tbsgrg nhbho aPziw uuh cgckglw uuhhmbngk †sgr
dgyrhebyg/// zgy ngi dguuhhbkgl bhay c sh/// yhakglw
s†x erhdy ngi thi sh dguugkcgr/ sh Przi zgbgi s†w
pTrayhhy zhlw T chxk chkhegr uuh thi Tbsgrg dTxi: thz gx
s†l bgci e†zg-dgxk! †cgr p†ry dgbud y˙gr pTr d†r T
druhxi yhhk uuTraguugr hHsi c uugngi s†x dgy† v†y
mudgruhcy sh Prbxv tui zhh dgk†zy ayhhi nhy Tr†Pdgk†zygw
khhsheg vgby tui nhy sgr thhbmhegr ngdkgfehhy mu e†bgi
sgrvTkyi s†x bTegyg kgci surfi chxkgfuuzi tuhxpTreuh;
pui sh nkcuaho tui ayuc-jphmho tuh; sgr Iuu†kUuueg"/
sh cTuugdubd pui sh rheagx ≈ sgo thhdbTryhei
k†e†n†mhg-nhyk pubgo
uuTraguugr dgy†w uu†x hHsiw sh thbygrbTmh†bTkg ≈
uuh/// v†y khc †bmurupi/// sgr uugky tui agny zhl tuhl bhay
mu bgngi chs rjçv pui uuTbgy gx k†zy zhl b†r ≈ v†y Tza
dgbungi c sh hTPTbgr tui fhbgzgr/ sh rheag thz pTri e†zg-
dgxk T druhxg ayhmgw bhay Tzuh sgrpTrw uuk gx zgbgi
thmy bhay† ehhi sr†zaegx tui uu†dbxw njn, sh syai v†ci
c sh hHshag cTkgd†kgx e†bphxehry sh pgrs ≈ s†x uu†ky
b†l bhay dguugi TzT ngåv/ sgr uuTraguugr hHshagr
yrgdgr e†iw f'kgciw yr†di tuhpi Pkhhmg T pi zgek ngk/
uu†x euny †cgr Truhxw Tz ngi y†r s†x bhay y†i Tzuh prTbe
tui pr: uu†rgo s†x tuhd pubgo Tdgby uuTfy/ nhy sgr
rheag †cgr thz gx d†r Tbsgra/ sh rheagx v†ci hHsi Tzuh
pTrpukeunyw uuh sgo fhbgzgr v†y zhl d†r ehhi n†k bhay
dgjkuny: vhbygri dgzgx thz s† T vuhkgr jkk tui s†ry e†i
ngi TrbPTei T P†r pTyahhki ngk tui zhl Truhpzgmi pui
sgr anudk thi uuTraguugr dgy†Pr. †P†yahbxeh
s
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Workers smuggle food from the “Aryan” side of Warsaw into the Ghetto.
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SCANORIGINAL
see in a mill, right against the grate, and pushes it through, so
that when the goy pours a sack of rye down this chute, the
rye shoots through the grate right into the sack held by the
Jewish smuggler in Kozla Alley below. One – two – three –
and the sack is full, and Meir Bomke, the tall porter with
shoulders like a real Hercules, slaps the sack onto his back as
if it were light as a feather, and disappears with it as he must.
Cereal, millet, sugar, and other foods are smuggled in the
same way. Only flour is smuggled in paper bags, and of
course, not through the grated windows but through the
windows of the upper floors. From the heights the Christian
smuggler lowers a rope down to the street: there the Jewish
smuggler ties paper bags onto the rope. The Christian pulls
up the bags and fills them with flour, then lowers the indi-
vidual bags, where they are snatched up and carried off. So as
not to burn his hands, the Christian wears a pair of thick
cotton gloves for the rope to slide through.
When the time comes to lower the merchandise, the win-
dows of the ground floor apartments are thronged. The
smugglers’ wives, sons, daughters, and porters are all milling
about, talking with the Christians…but the only people who
are allowed to purchase merchandise are those authorized by
the smuggler himself.
Goods fly from hand to hand, and the smuggled items are
whisked away. A heave here, a pull there, then a yank, and the
merchandise has been stowed away in the dark, half-closed
storerooms of Kozla Alley’s medieval buildings. Broad-
shouldered, red-cheeked wives with callused hands look ner-
vously about, shooting a glance to the corner of the alley at
Franciszkanska to see if the coast is clear, or if someone is
riding or walking by, when suddenly a hoarse warning shriek
pierces the air:
“Pesach.”
“Pesach!” – the call is heard on all sides, and every door is
slammed shut and bolted. Padlocks are placed on the out-
side. Some smugglers stay inside, while others stay out and
keep watch, leaning against the store as if they had nothing
better to do. The Christians upstairs pull their rope up
quickly, and Kozla Alley goes quiet; the air grows more tense
with anticipation…the smuggling machine is put on hold.
Because it’s Passover. A goy carrying a briefcase has come
by. No one knows who he is, but he’s probably an undercover
agent, so they wait. And when the goy upstairs gets tired of
waiting and has the audacity to lower the rope again, crying
out to the Jews standing below, “Nie ma juz pejsacha” –
“Pesach is finished” – they shoot back a warning, with the
contemptuous look of the expert: “Czekaj, pejsach kreci” –
“Hold your horses, Pesach is still going on.”
Around seven – and elsewhere it’s much earlier – Christians
deliver milk to Kozla Alley. Large tin cans, marked with the
number of liters they can hold, are placed up against the win-
dows of the ground-floor apartments.A thick tube with a mea-
suring gauge is passed through the wire grate, and with a turn
of the faucet – a gushing white stream of whole milk pours out,
still carrying the aroma of the cow stall, quickly filling the can:
and is moved even more quickly from the windows to the
stores, where Jewish milkmen and milkwomen are waiting
with containers to take it where people live.
Just yesterday was quite an occasion; as a good piece of
business was being enjoyed by all concerned, the German
police unexpectedly arrived at night – different police, not the
F A L L 2 0 0 6
eretz Opoczynski’s reportage places us in a small alley,
bordering the ghetto wall in the Warsaw of October 1941.
With its description of Jewish street-types and their Polish cohorts
on the other side of the walls, “Smuggling in the Warsaw Ghetto”
was written as part of the underground archive headed by
Emmanuel Ringelblum, associated with the Jewish Self-Help, an
extraordinary network of social services funded by the Joint
Distribution Committee. Sneaking food across the ghetto wall,
Opoczynski’s text reminds us, was part and parcel of resistance to
the Holocaust in a situation of forced starvation, and his on-the-
spot reportage anything but an elite activity. By describing the
struggles of common Jews to bring food into the ghetto, writers
like Opoczynski, and his counterpart Joseph Zelkowicz in Lódz,
used the artful resources of Yiddish language to bridge the gap
between “literature” and “history” and to reach people in the
most extreme circumstances imaginable. Buried in a milk can as
part of the Ringelblum archive, this text and its underground trea-
sure would be unearthed after the war, aptly symbolizing the
Jewish will to survive that manifested itself in the ghetto revolt of
1943. “Smuggling” in this reportage thus means bringing food
into the ghetto, but also suggests the mission of carrying a vision
of everyday Jewish life and language – as a force in its own right
– into the future as well.
Shortened here, Opoczynski’s full description of “Smuggling
in the Warsaw Ghetto” brims with earthy, sometimes dangerous
Jewish characters, like the rural Jewish tough-guys of Sholem
Asch’s “Kola Street” or the urban Jewish life of Lódz, made pop-
ular in Yisroel Rabon’s The Street (Di Gas) between the wars.
Colorful figures people Kozla Alley in the Warsaw ghetto, using
every ounce of their strength and imagination: Zelig the Paw,
who will lay out a recalcitrant customer with a punch – while
feeding the ghetto with his activities – stepping by the corpses in
front of Yapke’s shop, near the street singer, whose refrain is
“Not time to hand in my ration card, I wanna live just a little bit
more.” As Ringelblum notes in his Writings from the Ghetto, the
initial Nazi strategy was to starve the Jews of Warsaw to death. It
was put into action with subhuman rations and the walling-in and
enclosure of the ghetto in October 1940. The Jewish-Christian
(or goyish) cooperation Opoczynski describes has a populist
P
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P A K N T R E G E R
sgo PTrygr-pgbmygrw b†r surl sh pgbmygr pui sh
thhcgrayg ay†ei/ pui sgr vhhl k†zy sgr erhxykgfgr
anudkgr Tr†P T ayrhe chz tuhpi crue/ s†ry chbsy sgr
hHshagr anudkgr mu mu sgr ayrhe sh PTPhrgbg cykgi/
sgr erhxy mhy Truh; sh ayrhe nhy sh PTPhrgbg cykgi
tui phky zhh †i nhy ngkw tui Tzuh k†zy gr b†l sgo Tr†P tuh;
sgr ayrhe sh thhbmkbg cykgi nhy ngkw uu†x uugri ]dkl[
mudgfTPy surl sh anudkgrw uu†x zgbgi zhh nçgr/ Fsh zhl
bhay tbmuabsi sh vgbyw dhhy sgr erhxy †bdgy†i thi T
P†r dr†cg uuTy†uug vgbyaegxw surl uugkfg sh ayrhe
dkhyay zhl Tsurl/
uugi gx euny sh my pui Tr†Pk†zi sh xjurvw zgbgi sh
pgbmygr pui sh PTrygr-uuuhbubdgi cTkTdgry/ gx ayhhgi
Truo sh anudkgrw zhhgrg uucgrw zhhgrg zhi tui ygfygrw
yrgdgr/// mh x≤o/// rgsi nhy sh erhxyi/ euhpi c zhh
xjurv ngdi †cgr b†r sh hgbhegw uu†x v†ci sh †bgregbyg
sgruh; rgfy pui sh anudkgr/
ng rxy pui sh vgbyw n'thz dhfgr nçgr sgo anudk/ T
akgPw t mhw T rhxw tui sh xjurv thz pTraygey thi sh vTkc
mudgkgbygw yubegkg er†ngi pubgo nhykTkygrkgfi/// thi
e†zg-dgxk/ uucgr nhy crhhyg Pkhhmgxw ruhyg cTei tui
pTrn†z†kyg vgby/// ayhngi/// tui Phbykgi bgruugz nhy sh
tuhdiw fTPi Tkg n†k ]T eue[ Tr†P muo ge pui dgxkw mu sgr
zy pui sgr prTbmhaeTbgrw mh ng dhhy bhayw ng p†ry
bhayw ng ry bhayw tui Pkumkhbd absy surl sh kupy T
vhhzgrhegrw uu†rbgbshegr euuhya/
Pxj! ≈ uugry tubygrdgfTPy pui Tkg zyi sgr ru; tui
gx uugri pTrvTey tui pTrvTngry ]Tkg[ yhri/ pui
tuhxbuuhhbhe uugri †bdgkhkhdy akgxgr/ yhhk pui sh anudkgr
ckci thbguuhhbhew sh Tbsgrg dhhgi Truhx tuh; anhyv thi
sruhxiw ayhhgi †bdgkgby pTri dguugkcw nFkunray dkTy
Tzuhw pui bhay v†ci uu†x mu y†i/ sh erhxyi tuhci mHgi dhl
Truh; sh ayrhew tui thi e†zg-dgxk uugry ayhkw sh kupy
uugry ngr/// dgaPTbygr sgruuTryubd /// sh anudkgrr†s
v†y zhl dgaygky/
uu†rgo gx thz IPxj"/ gx thz dgeungi gPgx T Iduh" nhy
T ygeg/ ng uuhhxy bhayw uugr gr thzw †cgr nx≤nt thz gx
T dgvhho-Tdgby tui ng uuTry/ tui uugi thi tundgsukshei
uuTryi bgny zhl sgr Iduh" pui tuhci sh vgzv Tr†Pmuk†zi
tuhpxb sh ayrhew Tr†Pargbshe mu sh tubyi-ayhhbsheg
hHsi: IbhgnT huza PhhxgfT" ≈ ahey ngi tho murhe Truh;
nhy T chyukshegr nhbg pui dgbhygrg sh uu†rgbubd: I
yageThw PhhxTl hgayag agi ergbyah"///
Tzhhdgr zhci ≈ c Tbsgrg auhi phk prHgr ≈ aygki sh
erhxyi mu thi e†zg-dgxk sh nhkl/ mu sh pgbmygr pui sh
PTrygr-uuuhbubdgi uugri mudgaygky druhxg ckgfgbg
eTbgiw tuhxdgn†xygbg tuh; sgr m†k khygrw uu†x zhh e†bgi
sgr anudk c bTfy v†y pTrz†rdy sh anudkgr-er†ngi
nhy Fk-yuç: nhy drhbm˙d tui tucxyw aPz tui pkhhaw nhy
gupu, /// v†bhe tui uu†x s†x vTr. dkuxy/ Tphku nhy T
duygr Fuxv tuhl ≈ tui sh ay†y cruhfy thi sgr prh mu gxiw
sh Idhhgrx" sTrpi v†ci T dTbmi Trcgyxy†d/ e†i ngi thi sh
zungrygd auhi phb; pTr y†d zgi akgPi sh cykgl aPz
†sgr zge nhy eTry†pk tui eTbgi nhkl/ sh ngbyai v†ci
prhag Pbhngrw dguuTagbg pubgo n†rdiw tui sgo crgi pui
TrcgyxhHsiw uu†x gxi mu sgr zgyw tui s†x dgphk pui zhfgri
yr†yw pui Fuju, ≈ thbgo dguuhyk pui dgauu†kgbg phx pui
Truo/
s†x e†zg-dgxk v†y gykgfg vzgr pui sh dr†sg bungriw
uu†x zgbgi cTuuuhby pui erhxyiw †cgr sh tbdgbd thi sh vzgr
tui sh yuhgri zgbgi thi sgr zy pubgo e†zg-dgxk pTrnuhgry/
sh tbdgbd dgphbgi zhl pui hgbgr zyw tuh; sgr prgygw s†x
vhhxy nju. sgo dgy†/ ckuhz sh pgbmygr pui sh gykgfg
uuuhbubdgi dhhgi Truhx thi e†zg-dgxk/ thz s†x yTeg T crfv
bhay ckuhz pTr sh P†r Iduhho"w uu†x pTrbgngi sh s†zheg
shru,w b†r tuhl pTr sh hHsiw tui k†nhr zi tuhprhfyhew bhay
ckuhz pTr sh hHsi pubgo e†zg-dgxkw pTr sh anudkgrw b†r tuhl
pTr Fk-hårtk pui uuTrag/ uu†rgo tuh; uuhpk sgr anudk thz
cgmo T bhsgrhegr gbhiw Ti †bdgmuhdgbgr PTxge tuhpk vTksz
pui dgauu†kgbgo tui dgsr†kgbgo e†bxungbyw thz gr †cgr
c sh argekgfg cTshbdubdgi pui sgr druhxgr ≤phxvw thi
uugkfgr uuTraguugr hHsi zgbgi Trbdgaksgry dguu†ri
surl sh dgy†nuhgriw sh thhbmheg rgyubd pui sgr atrh,-
vPkhyvw tui uugr uuhhxyw mh ng uugy bhay T n†k sTrpi aygki
sgo anudkgr T sgben†k pTr zi tbaygkgbhaw uu†rgo
cshgçs v†y gr sgrnhy dgrTyguugy T druhxi yhhk hHsha
uuTrag pui vubdgryuhy/
sh pgbmygr pui sh erhxykgfg uuuhbubdgi zgbgi pui sruhxi
cTekTPy nhy sr†ygbg aTyegx pui tuhci chz Tr†P/ thi
pkudw Fkunray mukhc sgow Fsh †Pmuyhhki sh IduhHag" ayuc
pui sgr hHsagr dTxw †cgr thi ≤ul zgbgi sh erTygx pui sgr
aTyeg T duygr uugd surfmuphri sgo anudk pui thbguuhbhew
vTry bgci sh erTygxw aygky sgr Iduh" Tuuge TzT nhi
vhkmgrbg rhbgw uuh ng zgy s†x thi sh nhkiw sh rhbg dhhy///
thr/// mu sgr erTygw tui uugi sgr Iduh" ahy Tri thi sgr
rhbg T zTe e†riw ahy zhl sgr e†ri surl sh erTygx dkl
thbgo zTe Triw uu†x gx vTky sgr hHshagr anudkgr pui
e†zg-dgxk/ thhbx tui muuhh tui sgr zTe thz pukw tui nthr
c†negw sgr vuhfgr yrgdgr nhy Pkhhmgx uuh Ti tn,gr
thuuTiw dhy T fTP sgo zTe tuhpi Pkhhmg uuh T pgsgrk tui
pTrauuhbsy nhy tho uuU ng sTr;/
tuhpi zgkci tupi anudky ngi Tsrul eTagw vhrzaw sgo
muegr-erhayTk/// tuhl Tbsgrg aPz/ ckuhz ngk anudky
ngi thi PTPhrgbg cykgi tuiw pTrayhhy zhlw bhay surl
s
ones who’d been paid off – and put on quite a show. They
seized tens of thousands worth in food, and it cost another
fortune in cash just to stop the losses there. No more than
three of the “customs officials” fell from the heights in all the
confusion and were killed on the spot. Well, what can you do?
They live by the border fees they charge, and die by them too.
There are Jewish and goyishe customs officials. The goyim
smuggle the merchandise which Christians buy, and sell to the
Jewish street. The Jewish ones transfer the goods to the Jewish
smugglers on the other side. In the process the border people
keep track: how many tons of foodstuffs are passed through,
and for every kilo weight a certain percentage goes to them.
The officials have their men who keep a close eye on all trans-
actions, to make sure no one shorts them what they’re due.
These customs officials have it tough: the nonstop standing
on the roof means they’re continually risking their lives. But
what won’t a Jew do to earn his bread? Kozla Alley provides
thousands of Jews with a living. The barrowmen live from
Kozla Alley carting off its fruit and vegetables on their little
wagons, and the porters make a living from them as well.A few
porters are always hanging about next to every large smug-
gler’s shop, to grab up every bag of flour that hits the ground,
sacks of grain and other staples, and take them where they
belong. Aside from their normal charges, the porters have
made new demands, and now require an additional package
fee for every bag of food that passes through Kozla Alley.
Next to Franciszkanska Street stands Zelig the Paw, a
short, stolid type wearing a shiny peasant’s visor at a rakish
angle, on the lookout for anyone with a package: “Stop!” he
hisses through his teeth:“Don’t be shy, Pops, hand over a fifty
for your postage due.”
“I owe a fifty?” the Jew passing by replies, trying to play
dumb.
“That’s right, a fifty, and hand it over quick.”
He gives in, and it’s a good thing too, for if he didn’t, Zelig
would lay him out with a paw right to the face, hard enough
to knock him silly. Reasons are useless against that kind of
argument, so he whimpers and pays.
Around twelve noon, Kozla Alley comes to a halt. All sup-
plies of smuggled foodstuffs have already been sold, the
porters are sitting on the little front steps of the stores, the
smugglers take a break on the tables in the empty stores, and
Kozla Alley rests, preparing itself for the afternoon’s smug-
gling, which begins at four or five in the afternoon.
You never know whether you’ll be paying the same prices
in the afternoon as in the morning: that can only be deter-
mined when new supplies are lowered through the window.
From the spirits of the first smuggler, who carries his sacks of
flour, and from the porters and customs officials, the whole
Alley can sense a change in the going price, and just as a
sudden wind moves across a grain field on a hot summer’s
day, the murmur passes through the alley: “Prices are up!”
It’s not just the barrowmen, the porters, the strollers, the
milk-Jews and customs officials who depend on Kozla Alley for
their living: thousands of small food shops are partially depen-
dent on it, and naturally raise their prices, and last but not least:
thanks to its trade, some tens of thousands of Jews are able to
survive, who would have perished from hunger with money in
their pockets, if Kozla Alley had not served as their storehouse.
David Suchoff teaches English and Jewish studies at Colby
College in Maine.
F A L L 2 0 0 6
dimension, valuing the rough-and-tumble folk. At the same time,
Opoczynski uses contact through the ghetto wall to symbolize a
cosmopolitan tradition that reaches across barriers of all kinds.
Opoczynski’s own history was part of that Yiddish tradition.
Born to an observant family in Lutomiersk in 1892, two miles
from Lódz, Peretz Opoczynski entered yeshiva at age 10 and was
composing Hebrew poems by age 12. He grew up in a home in
which his traditional father would read a Hebrew translation of
Alexander Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo, recounting the
tale to the family in Yiddish. Like many in his generation,
Opoczynski was drawn leftward by both Yiddish literature and
Zionism. After serving in the Russian Army in WW I and spending
several years in prison in Hungary, he emerged radicalized and
modern in his politics, but with his Jewish national and linguistic
sensibilities intact. Acquiring shoemaking as a trade, he became
a Yiddish journalist. After marrying and moving to Warsaw, he
wrote for the Poale Zion Left newspaper, sponsored by the pro-
Yiddish Zionist party; he died in the ghetto of typhus on an
unknown date in 1942 or 1943. Before the war, the family lived
in the poorest neighborhoods, as Opoczynski honed his journal-
istic skills producing reportage of Jewish urban life, making use
of his Jewish learning to depict the creative struggle of Jews
caught between the traditional and modern worlds.
Opoczynski’s other reportage from the ghetto shows him full of
doubt whether Jewish Europe, and especially its Yiddish readers,
would in fact survive. He wrote for them nonetheless. Opoczynski’s
descriptions of popular Jewish slang in this piece – like “Passover,”
the alert to smugglers that the Germans are coming – are intended to
support underground and everyday Jews, dispel their illusions about
what was to come, and strengthen the collective will to live. The
famous revolt that broke out in Warsaw rooted itself in this spirit,
though few Yiddish readers in Warsaw were ever able to read
Opoczynski’s prose before it entered the milk can. His descriptions
of smuggling across the ghetto wall in this sense look forward to our
post-Holocaust era: today, they cross a different boundary and can
shatter many of our own illusions about how Jewish life, rather than
death, on the vibrant streets of Warsaw in 1941, actually looked,
tasted, and felt. —DS
/
P A K N T R E G E R
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