By Marika Somogyi
The first such moment I recall was when I was eleven years old.
I am sleeping on a moving train. YES! In my father’s arms. I am resting my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. My legs must be on my mother’s lap.
I am pretending that I am asleep. I want to absorb this wonderful moment.
The time was 1945. The Holocaust was over and my father found me in this godforsaken Swabian village. My parents came to pick me up and take me home even though the home didn’t exist.
There was no scheduled public transportation so they took a train, leaving Budapest hoping that, eventually, they would arrive in Boszenfa. My father wasn’t sure that his daughter was there or even alive, but the nun who took care of me had found refuge in the village.
My parents arrived after a long and perilous trip—two old skin and bone people.
Yes, I was there—a barefoot peasant girl. I wouldn’t have recognized them except my father called out my nickname loudly—a name which only he used. The only one allowed to call me by this name: Cicke.
After a few days of rest, we started the long and arduous trip back to Budapest.
And now, I am sleeping in their arms. I am pretending for a long time that I am asleep. Just holding onto them quietly.
I tried to digest what was happening. All three of us were alive. I didn’t have to pretend I was the illegitimate daughter of a farmhand. Yes, I am Marika Harmat again. It was overwhelming. The train rattled under me, returning me to my old self—the new and wonderful reality. I tried to push myself closer to my father so I could feel his heartbeat, but all I heard was the noisy train.
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The next magical wakeup was when I was twenty-three years old. I was lying on the floor somewhere, and the people around me were speaking German. Oh, god! This means I made it! I managed to escape the hellhole called Hungary and I was in Austria. Lying on the floor of a school gymnasium.
Next to me, deeply asleep, was my husband. We made it! I was a free person! I had no idea what the future would bring to me, but it would be me who decides my next step. Not the Party! Or those who wanted to kill me. From now on, whatever happened to me, the future would be in my hands. Before I opened my eyes, I let this wonderful feeling of freedom wash over me. The tears of happiness were flowing from my eyes.
This feeling of joy is indescribable for anybody was hasn’t experienced it. Freedom!!
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A few months later, I woke up on a straw mat on the floor again. Before I opened my eyes, I was listening to some very strange bird songs. Next to me on another straw mat was Agi, my friend from Vienna. Listen. I told her I had never heard these birds before.
You are a nincompoop, she said. Of course you haven’t heard these birds before. You are on the other side of the globe!
OMG! I was in America! I had arrived!
Now, the tears of happiness blinded my eyes.
