Stopover at Debrecen

Two hours later, with stops at Kaba and Hajduszoboslo along the way, I arrived at Debrecen and found my way out of the train station among the multitude of people. How I wished I could turn back and go home, but I was too scared to do so. Remembering my father's instructions exactly, I walked straight down a long street, then turned left at Josef Kiraby Herceg Street. The fear and excitement caused me to slow down, but I soon made it to number thirty six, my heart beating quickly and face red from confusion as I rang the doorbell.

An unknown face opened the door. Aunt Sara - my mother's cousin's wife - cordially introduced herself and welcomed me. She introduced me to her daughter-in-law, who had an infant girl. The Hungarian army had already taken Aunt Sara's son to forced labor - from where he never returned, like so many others like him in the Nazi era.

Aunt Sara lived in an elegant apartment with nice furniture. She suggested I sit in the fine rocking chair, which I did, but felt very uncomfortable. I missed the lightness of my happy home. Aunt Sara invited me to walk with her to her husband's office, which was located in the nearby home of her brother-in-law. This brother-in-law of hers had sent me many nice dresses previously worn by his daughters Vera and [Lsurse], dresses which my own parents could not afford.

When we arrived, Aunt Sara told me to wait outside. I felt very insulted; why shouldn't I join her - they were my relatives too! I wanted to meet them, especially the two girls. Perhaps she did not want them to see me in my worn-out coat, or maybe she did not want me to see how rich they were. At any rate, she apparently had no idea that thirteen-year-old girls have feelings too.

Other than that, Aunt Sara and - especially - Uncle Gesa welcomed me most warmly. They served a grandiose dinner and asked me how my family was doing. In turn, they told me about theirs. Aunt Sara escorted me to the train station after dinner, and bought my ticket. I thanked her for generosity, we said goodbye, and she left.

© David Muskal, 2001