I was officially registered as a “Polish child” in the Buchenwald Concentration Camp rather than a Jew, and owed my life to the saving power of the letter P, but daily life was still difficult. Yet with- in the darkness, there were several points of light. One image that is constantly in my memory is that of my older brother, Naphtali, repeatedly coming to the barbed-wire fence that surrounded my block. Each time he looked worse than he did in the previous visit, more gaunt, more emaciated. I, Lulek, his eight-year-old younger brother, would give him a slice of bread spread with margarine, which I guarded vigilantly for him. I recall watching with great satisfaction as he ate the thin slice, proud of my success – I had obtained a slice of bread for my saviour, I was permitting him to eat, and, perhaps due to me, he lost a little less weight. Naphtali’s continual updates kept me informed of what was happening among the Jews in the camp. Since I was very young, and never had the opportunity to learn about Judaism during the war, my knowledge of these customs and holidays was very limited. As Passover approached, Naphtali and his friends were determined to do anything to avoid eating leavened foods during the holiday. Although the only food available to them was the daily ration of three and a half ounces of bread, they were determined to observe the laws of Passover at all costs. Months in advance, at the beginning of January, they began to prepare by collecting potatoes. They told me about their arrangements and tried to explain their significance. Some of the prisoners had organised a trade in potatoes: three potatoes were worth the daily bread ration.

CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK