The Story of a Life by Aharon Appelfeld Read Free Book Online Page B

children communism, that his influence on them was detrimental, and that when they grew up they would disseminate the poison they were imbibing. However, the more canny tradesmen on the board had no such misgivings; they claimed that it wasn’t important what Gotesman was teaching—what mattered was his complete dedication. They argued that communists who were blind from birth presented no danger; on the contrary, communist dogmas would sound ridiculous in their mouths.
    The bickering among the members of the board did not abate. One of the tradesmen, whose contribution amounted to half the institute’s budget, was a religious man. He set two conditions: religious studies and Sabbath observance in the institute. The argument continued for some time. Eventually a compromise was reached: religious studies twice a week, and prayer on the Sabbath eve.
    The religious-studies teacher who was brought in to the institute was the son of the Rabbi of Zjadov. He duly came twice a week to teach the children Hebrew and Torah; on Friday night he led the prayers. The children loved his teaching and the prayers. It was not long before the Sabbath-eve prayer became famous throughout the town. People would gather by the railings and listen with wonder.
    Gustav Gotesman did not give up. He claimed that the children’s prayer was not prayer but song, and that music, not religious beliefs, directed the course of their lives. He said that the time when religion held sway had long passed, and that now there was only the belief in man, in his capacity to change, to build a just society, and to sacrifice himself for others.It was this belief that he would drum into the children day and night, and instead of the prayer “Hear, O Israel,” which they should have said every night, he composed a song that was called “Hear, O Man,” in which man was called upon to give of himself to whoever needed him. Like every believer, Gotesman was also a fanatic. He waged his war against the son of the Rabbi of Zjadov using all the means at his disposal. However, there was one thing that he was forbidden to do, and that was to preach that religion was the opiate of the people. Still, although he was indeed prevented from declaring this in public, in private he whispered whatever he whispered.
    The struggle came to an end in 1941. Overnight, the Institute for the Blind, which was in the poor area of town, became the very center of the ghetto. Songs were constantly bursting forth from its windows, and the melodies spread out over the ghetto, wafting over its persecuted residents till darkness.
    No one knew what the next day would bring, but the blind children apparently knew more than we did. They guessed that the future wasn’t too bright. One of their songs was sung again and again each evening: “Death Should Die.” In time, it became the institute’s anthem. It was a song with a firm rhythm, and it sounded like a defiant elegy.
    Gotesman worked day and night with the children. Most of his lessons were in music, but in the intervals he would drum his beliefs into them: the extreme conditions in which we find ourselves must not destroy our belief in people; we must help the weak even if it means sharing our last crust of bread with them; true communism means not only a more equitable division of wealth but also giving with all one’s heart.
    On October 13, 1942, the director of the Institute for the Blind was ordered to bring his children to the railway station.The children dressed in their Sabbath best; each put a book in Braille in his backpack, along with a plate, a mug, a fork, a spoon, and a change of clothes. Gotesman explained to them that the road to the railway station was not a long one, and that they would make five brief stops en route. At these stops they would sing classical songs and Yiddish songs. When they reached the railway station, they would sing their anthem. The children were excited, but not frightened. Their eyes widened with