and somehow find a way to lie down on them. After quite a while our minds become clearer and, unfortunately, we notice that our spot is absolutely no place for rest. The human wave flows on, we are being pushed, and we are surrounded by rubbish and waste. Hence, we need to leave this place. We look around but we cannot see any attendants. We peek into several rooms upstairs and downstairs, but they are all full. Finally, somebody shows me to a cot. Content, I put my children on it. [2] It is impossible to lie down [comfortably]. There are five of us on that cot and then the number increases to seven, but it is better than nothing. You cannot so much as dream about sleeping, not even about a short nap. We hear loud conversations around us and occasional arguments. There’s no way to calm people down because not all have not been accommodated yet. Everybody wants a place if only to sit down. Yet there are a few patricians in the room, ones who have been here since Wednesday. They got some bedding and made their beds like in a sleeping car. They are fast asleep despite the hum and lack of air.
People are begging for water, tea—anything to drink. But nobody receives anything. Women are fainting and children are crying. Those who have some sweets could make a fortune, though I can see people sharing [sweets] disinterestedly. Yet after a while these supplies run out, too.
It is already 5 a.m. and I go to check if there are any of us from Jeziorna in the other rooms. I soon find a few and learn a lot of from them. The quarantine usually lasts 14−21 days. Earlier discharge depends on the quarantine staff. Considering the big influx of deportees from the entire county it is possible that they will immediately release those who have accommodations in the Jewish district. As for the parcels left in Municipal Works . . . supposedly they get stolen. In the best-case scenario they’ll be handled in such a way that it’ll be impossible to identify our bags. There are already some individuals here proposing you buy a suitcase, not necessarily your own, for 100−200 zlotys.
At 6 a.m. I meet 2 nurses, [3] staff members. They tell me that the quarantine director is a very vigorous man from Gdańsk—Mr Helber. He opens his office at 8 a.m., and you need to turn to him in all matters. They tell us that [the staff] had been boiling water throughout the night. But as the quarantine centre lacks dishes, the drinking water was distributed only to those who had been informed and had their own dishes. Nobody took the trouble to spread the news in the other rooms. Consequently, most people
