TEACHER IS MY COUSIN
We agreed to meet at the hotel because the inti-fada was at its worst. My friends asked me not to make the trip: Israel was dangerous. I had come to find relatives and the reason itself was unbelievable. It was not common for people - fifty years later - to search for lost relatives in the Holocaust. So, I chose to do my investigations at the hotel. I looked out the window and saw a car trying to park so badly and so many times that I thought this Fabel must be a relative.
A distinguished man, who limped a little, got out of the car. He had dark hair and a pleasant face that seemed familiar to me. He was dressed like a lawyer, in a suit and tie; he had a smirk on his face. Did he look like a relative? Yes: he was short and stocky, like the Schirano family. He greeted me kindly and we sat down for a coffee. He glanced at me and didn’t ask why I was interested in finding out if we were family or not.
“Yes, my grandfather’s name was Abraham and I remember him well. I was born in Poland and left when I was a child. My parents and my siblings spent the war in Russia, where we fled from Bialystok when the Germans took over the city. But my grandfather Abraham stayed and died with the rest of his family.
Only three of Abraham’s children survived, one of them being my father. After the war, we looked for 190
somewhere to go and we left for Argentina. We had acquaintances there,” he told me.
We talked for hours about Poland, about the family in Wiskow, and about what it was like to migrate to Israel. He told me that other Schirano relatives had a publishing house for siddurim (religious books) in Warsaw. Fabel, who was retired but had worked as a teacher, had two children, and was married for the second time; his first wife had died over thirty years ago. “I got married again in Israel after my first wife died; may God have her in His glory,” he added.
Since I experienced the abuse or the famous hallucination, I was used to disconnecting from the present at certain times. It was a common reaction that protected me from dangerous situations; by going into the clouds, the pain or fear would disappear. This started happening to me and suddenly, I didn’t pay attention to Fabel’s stories.
“Do you know that I have the best coffee in the world?” I said to him to change the subject. I had brought three kilos of coffee from Costa Rica and I had forgotten to give it to him. This way, I hurried the farewell.
“Of course, I know!” Fabel responded.
I didn’t pay attention and handed him the coffee.
“Don’t you want to know why I said I know it’s the best coffee in the world?” he insisted.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” I replied automatically.