The other agent looks like a fine person with a cap. She’s a woman, hanging around the circle of men. She looks honest and pious, judging from the wig she wears and the way she’s always bringing God into everything. She asks my mother where she will bless the candles if we’re still here on Shabbes. My mother says we won’t be holding Shabbes here. With God’s help, she says, we’ll be on the other side of the border by Shabbes. The woman makes a pious face and says, “Amen, reboynu shel oylem! — praised be our Father above!” But she’s afraid we’re being misled. The agents with whom we’re dealing are just plain thieves. They want to trick us out of our money and will lead us into a quagmire. If we want to steal across the border, we should do so with her help and everything will turn out well.
Could she also be a thief? Would a thief be wearing a wig and be so pious?
My brother Elyahu and our friend Pinni have returned and are upset. It looks like they’ve quarreled. They blame each other for having to spend Shabbes here, although it’s no problem to observe Shabbes in the town. We find out that both agents are threatening to expose us for planning to steal across the border. And, of course, my mother is already crying. My brother Elyahu gets angry at her for ruining her eyes. On account of her eyes, he says, they won’t allow us into America! Then my brother Elyahu and Pinni stop dealing with the agents, saying, “That’s it! We’re not going to America, and we aren’t stealing across the border!”
My heart sinks. I believe him. But it’s just a trick, a scheme out of Pinni’s head to get rid of the agents!
And instead we deal with the woman, who takes some money and tells us to be ready by midnight. The night is dark — perfect for stealing across the border. I’m impatient to see what a border is and how we will steal across it.
D.
All day we’re busy preparing. We have to pack everything up and give it to the pious woman. She’ll send it all on to us afterward. The main thing is to get us across. She tells us what we’re to do. When it’s midnight, we should go to the outskirts of the town, where there’s a small hill. Once we’re past the hill, we have to go left and then walk and walk till we come to another hill. This time we’re to go right and continue walking until we come to a tavern. Only one of us should go into the tavern, where he will find two peasants drinking brandy at a table. He should go over to them and say “Chaimove,” and that’s all. As soon as they hear this word, she says, they will lead you to a little forest, where four more peasants will be waiting for you. If they’re asleep, wake them up. When you’re in the forest, go quietly, don’t make a peep, or they’ll hear you and shoot. At every step, she says, a soldier with a gun will be ready to shoot. From the forest the peasants will lead us on the right path, going downhill, until we’re on the other side.
The plan with the hill and the tavern and the forest sounds great to me. My mother is more wary, as are Bruche and Teibl. I laugh at them. Women are wary of a cat too!
Finally night arrives. We’ve said our evening prayers and eaten supper, and now we’re waiting till it gets really dark. Exactly at twelve we start out. First we men go and then the women, as usual. As the pious woman predicted, we leave the town and see a small hill. We pass the hill and turn left. We walk and walk till we see another hill. At that hill we turn right and walk on until we see the tavern. One of us has to go into the tavern, but who? Naturally, Pinni.
We wait half an hour, an hour, two hours — no Pinni. The women say we should find out what’s happened to him. Who should go in? My brother Elyahu? My mother says no. I say, “Let me go.” My mother says she’s afraid for me to go.
Quiet! Here’s Pinni.
“Where were you all this time?”
“In the tavern.”
“Where are the two peasants?”
“They’re asleep.”
“Why didn‘t you wake them up?”
“How do you know I didn’t wake them up?”
“Why didn’t you say ‘Chaimove’ to them?”
“How do you know I didn’t say it to them?”
“Well?”
“Well — well!”
“It looks bad.”
“Who says it looks good?”
E.
My brother Elyahu is really clever. He says he and Pinni should both go into the tavern to try waking the peasants. And that’s just what they do. In less than half an hour they are coming with the two sleepy-eyed peasants, who are tipsy and keep spitting and cursing. The word devil is repeated maybe a hundred times. The women are afraid — I can tell by their sighing and groaning and by the God Almightys that my mother repeats quietly under her breath. She’s afraid to say it out loud. We don’t make a sound. We walk and walk but don’t see any more peasants. Where are the other four?
Suddenly our two peasants stop and demand to know how much money we have. We’re so terrified that we can’t say a word. My mother steps forward and says we haven’t got any money. They say, “That’s a lie. All Jews have money.” They take out two long knives and stick them right in our faces. “If you don’t give us all you have right now,” they say, “we’ll murder you!”
We stand speechless, trembling like little lambs. My mother tells my brother Elyahu to undo his pocket and hand over the money. (This is the money we made from the sale of our half of the house.) At that moment my sister-in-law Bruche decides to faint. Seeing her fall, my mother screams, “Help!” Teibl, following her example, also screams, “Help!”
Suddenly—bang bang!!! Someone is shooting! The shots echo through the woods. The peasants vanish. Bruche comes to.
My mother grabs me by one hand and my brother Elyahu by the other. “Children! Let’s run! The Guardian of Israel be with us!”
I don’t know where she finds the strength to run. We keep getting tangled up in trees and falling. We stand up and run farther. My mother keeps turning her head and asking softly, “Pinni, are you running? Bruche, are you running? Teibl, are you running? Run, run, the Guardian of Israel be with us!”
How far we run I cannot say. We long ago left the woods behind. Day is breaking. A cool breeze is blowing, but we’re very hot. Before us lies a street, and another street, a white church, gardens, and houses. This apparently is the town that the woman told us about. If it is, then we are now on the “other side.”
We meet a Jew with the longest earlocks I’ve ever seen. He wears a long, flea-bitten caftan and a green scarf around his neck and he is leading a goat. We stop him and the goat and greet him. The man regards us from head to toe. Pinni engages him in conversation, but the man speaks in a funny way — he pronounces broad ah’s. Are we far from the border? Pinni asks him. The man stares at him. “What border?” It turns out we’re already far beyond the Russian border.
“So why are we running like madmen?” Pinni says to us.
We are overcome with hysterical laughter. The women almost fall to the ground laughing. My mother raises her hands, cries, “I thank you, dearest God!” and bursts into tears.
XIV
WE’RE IN BROD!
A.
Do you know where we are? We’re in Brod, which means we’re getting closer to America. It’s a nice town, this Brod! It’s not a town like ours, with streets and people like ours. The Jews aren’t like our Jews, even though they are Jews and maybe more Jewish than we are. Their earlocks are much longer than ours, their caftans reach almost to the ground, and they wear odd caps, belts, shoes, and socks. The women all wear wigs. But the way they talk! They call it German. It’s nothing like our language. The words are the same as ours, but the pronunciation is different — the broad ah’s sound foreign. And when they speak, they sing. They sound like they’re always chanting the Psalms.