All the Jews have already been resettled from the neighbouring small towns,
and you think that the Jews of L[ipno] will stay put surrounded by these emptied
towns?” And she was right. We were staying put only because we were paying
1,000 zlotys for each day spent in our homes, in our town. The other reason
was the split between the new Landrat and the Obersturmführer, Mr B. One of
them came from Berlin, whereas the other is from Gdańsk. They were in constant
opposition: what one established, the other abolished. Supporting the
Jews in L[ipno] and defending them, Obersturmführer B. assured them solemnly
that even if the Jews were to be resettled, it would not be before spring.
We were very happy to hear that, but, unfortunately, things took a different
course. Every Saturday, both governors visited their superiors and brought
back new regulations and decisions. Finally, in late November, our representatives
announced to the Jews that the Obersturmführer had demanded from
the Jews of L[ipno] 100,000 zlotys — 60 per cent could be in precious metals,
being gold and silver, and 40 per cent in cash, [5] if they wanted to stay until
spring. After long meetings and debates, the offer was accepted.
A special Collection Committee was established. The town was divided
into areas. Many women were invited to run the collection and I was also
asked to participate in this desperate undertaking. I agreed without hesitation,
yet because the collection fell on Saturday and one needed to openly
profane that holy day, I asked the rabbi what to do. He said that in the face of
danger to the whole Jewish community it was not a profanation, but a necessity.
Mrs K. was assigned as my partner. I am strongly convinced that for
the rest of my life the impressions of that day will remain in my soul as an
unforgettable and ghastly experience. [6] I have had many unpleasant days
in my life, I have experienced many worries, troubles and days of mourning
and tears, however, I have never been as miserable as on that day. Actually,
I did not suffer for myself, but for 2,000 brothers and sisters. When I was
going through personal suffering, I had never shed as many tears as on that
day. At every door I knocked on, in every flat I visited, I shed scalding tears
with the residents I was visiting. My writing is not sophisticated enough to
describe, even in a hundredth fraction, what I went through then; and today,
after two years, my emotions are so strong that the tears in my eyes blur the
paper and I am reliving everything again! Just imagine: it was Saturday, a holy
day, the door opens and two women with baskets come in. They are fund-raisers,
but everyone [7] already knows what kind of fund-raising it is. Deeply
