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May 24, 2004 Three weeks before departure for the USA all of us refugees who had passed medical exams, political background checks as well as psychological testing were loaded aboard a passenger train departing Esslingen, bound for Hamburg, Germany. Upon arrival in Hamburg men and women were separated to be placed in block houses awaiting the arrival of our ship. Ship which would transport us to a country we had heard so much about. We were told that once we boarded the ship families would be reunited. During the day there was not much to do. My family's meager belongings were packed into four cardboard suitcases. Somewhere in there were the few books I had. Unpacking was not an option so there was nothing to read or to do. The adults were required to take turns in the kitchen cleaning and slicing vegetables. Mostly potatoes. Head cook was a representative from UNRRA (United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration) and of course everything under the direction of American Military. On a particularly sunny morning, while my father had kitchen duty, I decided to sneak out of the encampment and walk around the city. I passed the guard house with no trouble. The two young polish guys entrusted with guard duty, checking the individual arrivals and departures, were busy in conversation with each other. Besides who paid attention to a bedraggled twelve year old. I walked around Hamburg looking into shop windows. Ogled a bakery full of loaves of bread as well as some small pastires made of egg whites. Of course I had no money for any of these goodies. Had a few coins, not enough to buy anything for the whole family. In late afternoon I began making my way back to encampment Slowly meandering down the cobbled streets surrounding the docks. All at once I noticed a fish store with several varieties of smoked fish displayed in the window. Now, smoked fish of any kind, in my cultural background is a delicacy. Counted my coins. After some haggling purchased one small fish. Vendor was good enough to wrap it in several layers of newspaper. I stuck the parcel inside my jacket. All through this transaction I was fully aware that food of any kind was not allowed to be brought inside the encampment. I knew the rules bu just wanted to bring something good to my family. Upon approaching the small guard house I noticed the main gate closed which meant I had to enter through the small door directly in front of the guards. Feeling a litle skittish over contraband in my jacket I tried to get through the gate as unobtrusively as I could manage. Of course I was stopped and asked what was in my bulging jacket at which point the fish hit the ground. After some questioning both guards laughingly let me go and of course kept the fish. Smoked fish is a delicacy in their ehtnic group as well. In no time at all word of my brazen "fishing" expedition got to my father in the UNRRA kitchen where he was peeling potatoes. My Mom told me he was quite angry with me since this foolishness of mine might have jeopardized our immigration to the US. Later in the evening my Dad took me for a walk around the encampment. He explained to me that he understood my motivation of wanting to bring something good to the family, also how hungry I had been in the Nazi detention camps. However there are times in life, which I will learn soon enough, that small temptations must be overcome in order to reach the bigger goal that is worth everything. I have never forgotten his advice or the circumstance under which it was given. ------------ About the author Gunta Krasts Voutyras: Born in Liepaja, Latvia, proud citizen of the USA, and am a published author. An essay of mine was published in Hugh Downs' book "My America" and this essay may be viewed on my web site: guntacollectionltd.com. Currently I am working on a novel about the Adirondack Mountains of northern New York state. I have been writing poetry and short stories since I was eight years old. Email: gunta@capital.net Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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