NOT TO BE OPENED
A very sad tale, one of so many; one can only feel compassion forall the participants caught up in one of the most appalling tragedies
of the 20th Century.
“Jesus loves you.” From early childhood Kate was embraced by it.
She felt constantly loved. Her mother Martha, a staunch Catholic, made the
church the centre of their lives. Kate, a pretty dark-haired, dark-eyed child,
was well fed, well-dressed and well disciplined. There was never any
reference to a father. Her questions were met with stony silence.
So Kate grew, always feeling a little out of step. She did all she could to win
the love and approval of her strong blond mother. She considered her mother
a force of nature; sometimes an angry force targeted directly at her.
When Kate married Henry a Protestant farmer, Martha insisted on a Catholic
service, as though it was ever in doubt. The years passed. Henry, became a
successful farmer in the Orange Free State and he and Kate made a devoted
couple and loving parents to their three sons. Kate was always able to mask
her lifelong underlying depression.
She did all she could to make her mother’s journey into old age comfortable,
physically and financially. Always seeking approval and never quite
succeeding.
It was when Martha died in 1988 that her solicitor handed Kate a sealed
envelope.
“Your mother’s instructions were to give you this letter at her death.”
“How long have you had it?”
“We drew up her Will in 1975.That was when she entrusted the letter to us.”
The service in the Rosebank Catholic Church was over, her mother had been
laid to rest, the mourners had departed and the condolences of friends had
been responded to. Henry and the boys had gone to bed and it was time to
open the letter.
Kay dear
In 1938 I left Johannesburg to visit my cousin Doe in Berlin. We had been
very close as children and as teenagers. She married a German, Hans and
settled in his home town, Berlin. We always kept in touch.
In early 1938 my fiancé, Conrad broke off our engagement, and it was then
that Doe invited me to spend time with her in Germany. I enclose her letter.”
Kay withdrew Doe’s letter with trembling hands.
Berlin
March 1938
Dear Martha
I think that Conrad needs time and space to reconsider his decision. I
remember him well, he always seemed to shy away from commitment. Come
and spend time with us. You know of the wonderful people that I have been
working for these years, the Kramers. As you know they are Jewish and no
longer feel safe in the country of their birth. They gave me the opportunity to
acquire their very successful jewellery business on terms that I can easily
afford. They are going to settle in Palestine. They have a baby daughter and
fear the Herrenvolk politics. In my opinion they are over-reacting. However
their plans are finalised. Please, please come spend time with us, I need your
companionship and help in the business.
Yours as always,
Doe
Hyperventilating, Kate replaced the letter and continued reading her mother’s
letter.
“I gratefully took up Doe’s offer and arrived in Berlin in April 1938. The
Kramers were murdered a month later, two days before their departure date.
Their baby daughter Margot had no living relatives in Germany, and Doe was
fearful of taking in a Jewish child. She prevailed on me to return to South
Africa with the baby. I was unable to refuse, it was to be for a short while, just
until things settled. She would then trace Margot’s relatives in Palestine.
The short while turned into a life time. WAR: Doe was killed when Berlin was
bombed. A child cancelled all my prospects of marriage. This is what you
should have been told when young. I intended to, I was going to, and couldn’t.
I constantly confessed in church, but was truck dumb when it came to telling
you.
You were born Margot Kramer in Berlin, Germany on April 15, 1937. Your
father was Joseph, son of a Rabbi. Your mother was Ursula, the daughter of
Dolph and Hannah Hersch, they were diamond merchants. Your parents were
Orthodox Jews, successful and respected. You were their only child. I lived a
lie and we both paid the price. I pray for your understanding.
You are not Kate. You are not Catholic. I am not your mother.
MAY GOD FORGIVE ME
Martha