Return to the city of endless nightmares

Recently I was invited to Vienna by the Austrian Gedenkdienst, along with four other Jewish refugees, to relate our experiences of the Holocaust at a number of schools. For one of my talks, I returned to the high school from which in March 1938 I was expelled for being Jewish – I was then just 15 years old. Strangely, I found the return visit both traumatic and joyful for not only did it dredge up the old feelings of rejection and hatred but it also provided me with a degree of closure: instead of being jeered and taunted, I was now welcomed as an honoured guest by staff and students alike. I vividly remembered the day I had left Austria and written in my diary with venom ‘I am leaving my beautiful Vienna, the city I used to love so much but now loathe so fiercely. I shall never, ever return.’ Thus it was with a huge sense of relief that I could see the positive changes that had occurred in Austria over the subsequent years and the Austrians’ ongoing attempt to eradicate anti-Semitism. As I recounted my escape, I found the years slipping away and I was reliving a time I had spent so long trying to forget – the fear of someone hammering on the front door, listening out for the signal to run and hide, the endless nightmares, the queuing to try to get exit visas and the constant disappointment of being turned down again and again and again. I had experienced a sense of hope only when I approached the Albanian embassy: the large ‘J’ on my passport didn’t make them recoil in disgust – they treated me with kindness and respect. I hadn’t known at that time that Albanians have their own traditional code of conduct – besa – in accordance with which strangers are made welcome and offered help regardless of their colour, religion or status in society. However, I was soon to learn what a difference besa would make to our lives. During my five months’ stay in the country I was met by people who, instead of persecuting me, made me feel valued. I became a tutor to two young girls and subsequently was asked to teach the Italian ambassador German. This was to prove hugely fortuitous as, once again, my life was saved through the intervention of another. Finally arriving in England, I knew my running was over. I worked as a machinist sewing soldiers’ uniforms, undertook numerous roles and over the years was fortunate enough to be awarded scholarships which enabled me ultimately to become a university professor. However, I have never forgotten the bravery and benevolence the Albanians displayed towards us all. I learned that they had risked their lives sheltering over 3,000 Jewish refugees – and not a single one had been handed to the Germans even during the Nazi occupation. Besa continues even today, successfully demonstrating how multifaith communities can live in peace and harmony. I wonder if there is a lesson here from which we could all learn? T. Scarlett Epstein