Winter, 1943 (Villa Emma)

Per Yoshko’s account, the winter of 1943 at Villa Emma was marked by a deep sense of physical suffering, psychological stagnation, and a fading hope for the future.

Physical Hardship and the “Curse” of the House

Extreme Cold: The first snow brought a piercing cold to the giant stone building, which was impossible to heat.
Physical Suffering: Yoshko describes the residents as “wrapped up” and “shivering,” feeling as though the Renaissance architecture of the house was a “curse” freezing their very limbs.
Bitter Memories: The cold triggered traumatic memories of even harsher winters in exile, specifically the -38°C frost they endured in Lesno Brdo, where their tears turned to ice on their faces.

Psychological Stagnation and Despair

Fading Faith: A “curse of sad laziness” and “killing boredom” settled over the group, leading to a sense that there was no way out and a gradual loss of faith in their future.
Forced Maturity: Young men like Pauli felt the weight of wasted years; at nearly twenty years old, he expressed bitter frustration at being “stuffed” with the same lessons on Zionist history he had heard years prior, while still lacking a profession or a home.
Rarity of Joy: Although parties were held to break the monotony, Yoshko notes that “laughter is rare”.
The Weight of Being a Refugee: There was a profound melancholy in the realization that they were not “free” like their friends from Florence; they were forced to ask permission for every movement and were constantly reminded of their status as displaced persons.

The Shadow of the War

Disturbing Presence: Seeing numerous German soldiers in the streets of the city created a “gloomy, depressing” atmosphere.
Desperate Comfort: The group found a twisted form of solace in the approaching front; they viewed the arrival of the Germans as a sign that the war—and perhaps their ordeal—might finally be reaching a climax.
Internal Friction: The stress of the environment led to “demoralization,” constant grumbling about food, and internal conflicts, such as the older boys rebelling against the council or the “gangster-like” behavior of some residents.

From Sonja’s Diary

Monday, January 4, 1943

I’m not in a very good mood today. If you wake up feeling grumpy in the morning, it tends to ruin your whole day. Here’s what happened: this morning, Hilde borrowed Gerda’s mirror and put it on the wardrobe. I didn’t see it, and the mirror ended up breaking. Hilde got really upset,

and since then, I haven’t said a word to her. I also have to mention that Salli and I have a secret love. Whenever we’re alone, we have the best conversations. For example, last Shabbos, I was in another lounge when he came over and sat next to me. But as soon as Lola arrived, we immediately stopped talking. That’s how we chat when we’re alone. Yesterday, our kvutza went to the movies. He sat next to me, and we talked a lot. I feel really happy in those moments. I get regular letters from my beloved Mutti, and that brings me so much joy.

Tuesday, January 13, 1943

I’m in such a bad mood right now. I could honestly cry, but I keep holding it back. How often do tears well up in my eyes. Just now, I think Eva is out for a walk with Salli, and that just drives me crazy. Last Sunday, we had a nice chat, and now this? It must be something I’m doing wrong. I shouldn’t take it too much to heart. I heard last night that Lola has a crush on Salli. I had to bite my tongue to stop from crying. My heart was pounding out of fear. I just wish this time would pass. I have to stay cool around him and not let on that I love him. He must know it already; so why does he still engage with me? But that’s not the reason why I am feeling so sad. I have such longing for my beloved Mutti. The day before yesterday, I dreamt about her again. I saw her and my dear Papa, who is already gone. All day long, I keep thinking about all the good things from home. I’ll be turning sixteen soon. When my birthday comes, I won’t let anyone know it’s my birthday. Right now, I could just cry; tears are filling my eyes, and I don’t want to show it. I received another long letter from Angiolina. I really like her. I’m writing her a letter in Italian. Before I go to bed, I want to write down a few more things.

Sunday, January 18, 1943

A lot has happened around here, unfortunately nothing good. On Friday morning, I received a

card from Lotti saying that my dearest Mutti is no longer in the apartment and that nobody is able to reach her.

Monday, January 25, 1943

So much has happened to me lately, and I plan to write a lot today. First of all, I want to say how much I long for Lesno Brdo. Today is a beautiful day; the sun is shining, and the winds are as mild as in spring back in Lesno Brdo. The girls are always chatting about all the wonderful experiences we’ve had. Sometimes, I could just cry from the longing. Grossa is here, and Mathilda was here too. But I can’t talk much with her since she only speaks Italian. I like her a lot, and I believe she feels quite comfortable here. She told me that Angiolina is sick. I really hope she writes to me again.

One can’t imagine how unhappy I am not receiving any letters from my beloved Mutti; I don’t even know where she is. I wrote to Lotti, but I haven’t received a response yet. Now I want to write to Aunt Sabina in Milan and see if anyone still thinks of me and understands me in this situation. Sometimes, tears come to my eyes, and I can’t hold them back; I have to walk away to cry it out. I often feel like an abandoned child. When I go for a walk, I’m alone while everyone else is having a great time chatting. But that doesn’t really bother me. I enjoy being alone; it allows for the best kind of reflection. But there is one person who understands me through it all, and that’s Berta. She just gets me, no matter the situation.

As for Salli, I’m not paying him any attention right now. It’s obvious that I care for him. I can see how he loves Eva, and she loves him too. I’ve even discussed this with Tamar, and she completely agrees with me. Today, I absolutely have to go for a walk, but I have class. I’ll just have to skip it. I can’t stand being in this house any longer. My birthday is coming up, and when the day arrives, I won’t let anyone know it’s my birthday. I’ll be away from home all day, just trying to avoid contact with people. I hope I’ve written enough for today, and now I’m going to take a little walk outside.

Sunday, January 31, 1943

I just wrote a letter to Lotti. Maybe she’ll have pity on me and tell me more about my beloved, precious Mutti. I wrote to her quite firmly. Today, I heard that another person has died in the Sachsenhausen camp. These cases have been happening more and more lately. Whenever any notice arrives and it goes to Joschko for censorship, I always fear it is going to be bad news. I’m not really in a good place with Salli right now. I treat him like a chaver (group member). He’s noticed, and he can think whatever he likes.

Thursday, February 4, 1943

I’m in a miserable mood right now; you can’t even imagine. I just wrote a card to Aunt Sabina in Milan because yesterday I received a card from her. She told me she received mail from my dear Mutti. She is sending me some money, which makes me happy. When I have money, I plan to

save it. I almost forgot that Lotti wrote me a card, giving me the unfortunate news that she is no longer in Berlin. That hit me hard. Also, I can write that Salli has been nice to me again. But I treat him just like I used to.

Wednesday, February 10, 1943

It’s after lunch now, and I’ve decided to write my diary and also a letter to Aunt Sabina. I already wrote her a card, but she hasn’t responded. Oh, how I wish I had a lot of money. The painters received 500 lira today. I have a wish. I’ll be doing dish duty next week, and the week after that is my birthday. I’d like to have dish duty so I can go for walks in the morning. That way, I can think about home, about Lesno Brdo, and sadly, about turning sixteen. Just thinking about it makes it hard for me to clear my mind. A new friendship has formed here: Robert Weiss and Frieda. Robert offered (asked) her his friendship (to date him). A fourteen-year-old girl, already in a relationship. I feel like I’ll always be alone. But there’s one thing I hope for: some Croatian kids will be coming here. Maybe I’ll find a boy among them who understands me, and we can form a good friendship. I really want to have a (boy) friend. It must be so nice to have someone there for you. I’m creating big day dreams. Maybe they’ll come true. I got a card from Angiolina. She just wrote that she doesn’t have time.

Tuesday, February 16, 1943

Today, I have a lot to write about. So much has happened. First, I want to share that I might be leaving the kvutza. I had a long talk with Joschko about how things can’t go on like this because I don’t get along well with the other girls, and there’s no point in staying in the kvutza. After all, I’m sixteen now, and one should expect more from someone my age. I told him that I’d like to be assigned to work with the older girls and not be treated like a little kid anymore. I also mentioned that I want to learn more. Joschko teaches me Ivrit and will talk to me a lot about psychology. I’m so excited about that; its hard to even express. I’m going to give my best effort to learn a lot and to work diligently. I hope I manage to do it.

Grossa asked me to go for a walk with him on Shabbes. I told him I’d like to do office work. He mentioned this to Leo, who said he wants to teach Berta and me how to type. That makes me very happy. From now on, I’m going to study hard and hope to become a well-educated young lady.

On Sunday, I went to the cinema and saw such a sad movie that I cried. It was beautiful. It was about a mother who had her child taken away and ended up in prison. Later, you see how she comes out of prison looking completely aged. She searches for her house and finds it, but they won’t let her in. In the meantime, her son has grown up and is handsome. When he was still a little boy, he was given to a woman to raise. He grew up not knowing who his mother was or where she was. Eventually, his mother convinces the woman to give her child back. She just can’t take it anymore. It’s a heart-wrenching moment when her son happens to find her by chance on the street and learns that she is dying. That’s where the movie ended. All the girls cried during this film.

To my delight, I can also report that yesterday I went to Modena with Berta and Grossa. He took us with his own money, and I can honestly say it was wonderful. When we arrived, he took us to

a pastry shop, where he treated us to food and drinks. We had a great time talking with him. He shared stories about his youth and so on. Later, he took us to the temple, where three girls were waiting for us. They also took us to an old church, where we admired everything, and we really enjoyed it. They told us so much about the bombings in Italy. I don’t know how it happened, but I was able to speak Italian quite well, and it just flowed naturally. This turned out to be one of my best afternoons in Nonantola.

On top of that, I have to mention that Salli told me he wants to talk to me. He has been really nice to me lately and often smiles at me. A wonderful time is coming for me now, and I will feel well.

Wednesday, February 24, 1943

I just wrote a card to Lotti, which I owed her for an entire week. I didn’t get around to it all week. I don’t want to miss mentioning that I had my birthday yesterday, and it will always stay in my memory. The most important thing is that I turned sixteen years old. I felt really down in the morning because I was longing for my dear Mutti. Who knows where she is and if she’s thinking of her child who is growing up in a foreign land. That must be such a terrible feeling for a mother not to know where her children are—the children that she gave birth to and raised.

I talked about this with Berta during a long walk. On Saturday, we went quite far from Nonantola and reminisced about many things from home. But we got so deep into conversation that she started to cry. Unfortunately, she couldn’t be calmed down, so I let her cry it out.

Salli is sitting next to me, reading the book that Tamar gave me for my birthday. It’s called “The Three Just Kammachers.” I’ve started it and believe it will be good. From the chevra, I received a white teddy and a pair of wonderfully sheer silk stockings, which made me very happy, and everyone else was happy for me too. Early in the morning, Berta came to me and brought me a stocking bag that she made herself. This gift meant especially much to me because it was made with special love. Ruth gave me curling rollers and a belt. It was really very kind of her; I didn’t expect to receive a gift from her. One more thing I want to write is that today, after dinner, I’ll be learning to type with Leo Koffler.

Wednesday, March 3, 1932

Just now I finished writing a long, detailed letter to my dear Lotti. I think that she will definitely be pleased with this letter. Right now, Mr. Boris is sitting at the piano, playing beautiful pieces that just make me want to cry. This only happens once a year, and that day is today. I’m in such a mood. I can’t even write any more. There just isn’t enough room in my heart. Another time. I have never ever felt such longing as I do now.

Monday, March 8, 1943

Today is Berta’s birthday, and I just placed her gift on the bed. I hope she will be happy with it. I prepared everything with so much love. Also, a lot has changed in our kvutza. First of all, some

people have left the kvutza without even calling for a sicha first. It’s unbelievable. When I heard that, I was stunned. I immediately told the boys that I would stay in the kvutza. Why should I leave and basically show the others that I’m leaving because they left? No way. From now on, I’ll always express my opinion in the kvutza.

I’ve always gotten along better with the boys than with the girls. Today we will have a sicha with Joschko, and I plan to speak openly. This week, I’m on kitchen duty with Betti. We keep the kitchen so clean that it’s a joy to see it. In the last sicha, Grossa spoke about how it’s a shame the way the girls have been neglecting the house and the kitchen. Since then, every girl has been making a real effort to make the others happy.

Monday, February 22, 1943

Right now, I am in such a terrible mood, that …

Thursday, March 11, 1943

In this moment, I can hardly speak. I’m just in a terrible mood again after quite some time. I could cry with such heartbreak that it’s hard to imagine. Here’s what happened: I received a nice pair of shoes from the storeroom, and I’m planning to take good care of them. Then Lola came along today and wanted to borrow my shoes. Of course, I said no right away. Why should I lend them out? Just to have them ruined? No way, not a chance, especially not Lola.

Then Eva joined in and started yelling at me, saying that if I could borrow from someone, I should also be able to lend out. So I told her what I really thought, and what could she say back? That I’m stupid? But I didn’t care. There’s only one thing weighs heavily on my heart: I still don’t have anyone here. They all disgust me. Why can’t I have a little bit of joy too? Other people always have fun, while I’m the lonely one who has to suffer. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. For the past few days, I haven’t spoken to anyone here. Why? Because I can’t stand any of them. None of them.

Sunday, March 14, 1943

This week I have kitchen duty, so I have the whole morning off until one o’clock. The mail still hasn’t arrived. I keep telling myself that I will get a letter. Why? There will come a time when I will have much joy. Hopefully. Who knows? One day, a letter will come, and it will be from my

dear Mutti. Oh, if only I knew where she is. Soon it will be two months since I last heard from her. If only I knew […]. I plan to send a Vatican note to dear Aunt Hoffman in Poland. Maybe she can tell me more about my beloved Mutti. Almost every night, I dream of her or of relatives.

I feel like I’ve talked enough about my longing; now I want to focus on my emotional state. My relationship with Eva Reich is terrible—it’s almost like I hate her. She really acts like she’s in

charge. I’m always arguing with her. I give her such cold replies that she doesn’t know how to respond. The only word she can come up with is “stupid.” She probably thinks that I’m hurt by that. No, she’s completely wrong. You can’t hurt me with stuff like that anymore. I used to be foolish, but now I want to be completely different. I’ve realized that my kindness only leads to being taken advantage of by the girls. Of course, Eva Reich told me that I’m a bad girl. I couldn’t care less about what she says.

On Shabbes, I looked really nice in my new green jumpsuit, white blouse, scarf, and silk stockings. It looked so fabulous that some people even commented on it.

Monday, March 29, 1943

Today is a rainy day. Almost all the girls have gone to bed, but I’m still up. It’s been fourteen days since I last wrote, so I have even more to report about what happened. First, I want to write about what went on yesterday at Villa Emma. The Florentines came to visit us – girls and boys. They aren’t the prettiest girls, but they’re mostly well-educated. Mathilda was also here, and at the end, she kissed and hugged me. I really like her. There were also some boys. Mathilda’s brother caught my eye; I liked him a lot. If only I could speak Italian, I would have chatted with him. Some girls came from Ferrara, too. One girl, in particular, stood out to me. She has black braids and is very nice. She asked if I’d like to write to her, and I agreed, so she took my name. Once I get to know the person, I’ll know who I’m corresponding with. I even danced the Hora.

I just finished reading the Iton. Some of the stories I really liked. Jossel wrote something that I really liked:

Thoughts

Feeling—what is feeling? I want to write a small philosophical treatise just to analyze this thing inside me that we humans call “feeling.” Do I have feeling? When someone cuts their finger and I see him suffering, it hurts me too.

That’s what Jossel wrote.

Call from Poland

Now that we’re publishing a newspaper again, we want to take this time to remember our parents, who may have survived another winter. It must be hard, living in those medieval, filthy hideaways where people keep themselves hidden from today and are afraid of tomorrow. Yet even in the most hidden corners, a cruel hand of fate finds the wretched, dragging them down ever deeper. They walk hunched over through the narrow streets of the ghetto, searching for a crumb of bread so not to die of hunger.

This was written by Otto Liebling.

Who knows if my beloved, precious Mutti has anything to eat? Oh if only I could just have one message from her.