BIRTHPLACE
I remember a lane leading
to the house where we lived,
or to a farmhouse, or a manor house.
The end of that lane
seemed like the end of the world.
I remember the manor garden
and the fields
and I remember large herds of grazing cows...
from the estate.
I liked to run out to the cows, to the meadow.
My father used to take me on his trips.
We walked from one village to the next.
He led me by the hand.
Sometimes we stopped in the field...
lied down on the grass...
and rested.
Sometimes he took his cart
and we drove to the mill at Piwki village.
I remember the market place full of carts,
and the Jews were trading with the peasants,
and I remember the farmers saying: "What a lovely child,
it's not his fault, my God, it's not his fault!..."
My mother didn't raise me as a Jew.
I spoke only Polish.
I didn't study anything that Jewish children were learning...
...from prayer-books.
I remember
the time my little brother learned to walk.
We called him Buzz because
he used to pick up a stick,
raise it above his head
and make a buzzing sound like an airplane.
- Good Morning. - Good Morning.
Do you recognize me?
I am not sure...
Grynberg?
I used to go to school with your mother.
- Were you in the same class? - Yes.
- Were you the same age? - I was born in 1915...
...but I don't know when she was born. - She was born in 1916.
We went to school together, we played together.
She used to come to my house and I went to hers.
We were neighbors. She was a nice girl, always cheerful.
Light eyes, blonde. Her hair always...
Pretty... Pretty woman.
- Did she have plaits? - No, no. Her hair was permed.
Yes, and I remember her later... She was already a damsel...
...and I remember her wedding... Before the synagogue.
I saw them walking through the market place...
Jewish girls were carrying candles ahead of them
when they were walking
then they entered the house.
One of the girls carried a cake.
And the girl with the cake did some jolly skipping and jumping.
That cake was delicious, I'm telling you.
They baked such a good cake for the wedding.
- Wasn't it a challah? - Something like that, but round,
and on a round tray.
They carried the cake ahead of them along the way.
There was music and a pretty big wedding.
I remember the Jewish house where they had the wedding.
They put out tables and laid them with all kinds of food.
They gave everybody spirit to drink. To the Poles too.
Anyone who turned up
got a small glass of spirit.
And they danced, Jewish women together and Jewish men together.
You mean men and women danced separately?
Yes, I remember that very well.
- Yes, it's her... - Do you remember her?
- Did you see her? - Oh, yes.
What a high spirited Jewess she was.
You know, we were Poles and they were Jews...
I used to go to their shop... Because they had a shop...
Smart people...
And my wife used to buy thread there for her embroidery.
Once I told her: "What a fool I was to marry you and not her..."
Your mother was a pretty lady...
Did she come here when she was in hiding?
Your momma and her sister used to come to my place
and my wife always gave them food.
We felt like we had to help them, we knew them.
What were they guilty of?
I had to go outside
and check whether there were any German policemen around the house.
And I told my wife: "Give them something to eat,
let them warm up and then go".
Because all of us could have been killed with them.
Terrible things could happen.
I tell you, there are good people...
but there are bad too.
A lot of people threatened me.
But I threatened them back:
"I'll say I took the Jews from you.
And that all of us took turns giving them food,
so the Germans will kill you as well as me..."
Then they'd shut up.
I could not hang my head down and be quiet...
One should have guts and use some brutal words...
...so they'll leave you alone.
The Jews already knew where the enemy was,
so they never came to the village.
Only to the huts on the edge of the woods.
It was easier to hide there.
The trees were younger then, much more dense.
One could hide behind the branches.
One day I said to my neighbor:
"What happened to the Jews? They are nowhere to be seen now.
Was there a roundup in our woods?" "No, he says, but I heard they moved
further away and are hiding in a dugout."
That dugout... I don't remember exactly.
We had to sit crosswise, I think...
I spent days lying there. I wasn't allowed to walk or run.
It was dark there and I didn't care who was and who wasn't there.
We came out at night. Men took off their shirts
and shook the lice off into a fire.
I remember the dirt... and the lice...
Here, here was the dugout.
It was like a pit for storing potatoes.
It was covered with logs and branches.
The opening was here.
It was long.
The entrance was closed when they were inside.
It had to be camouflaged so nobody could see it.
So you couldn't see it was there.
It was well hidden by thick juniper branches.
They had an iron stove inside.
The chimney was hidden in the juniper.
You couldn't see it because the young trees were very dense.
Who is buried in this dugout?
- They are not buried here. - No one is buried here.
- No one? - No, no.
- Was the place empty? - Yes.
They were taken somewhere...
Where can they be buried?
- We won't find any of their graves? - We sure won't.
Dear Jesus! They were murdered there.
Somewhere in those woods... they were murdered.
Our people murdered them, not Germans, ours...
Torture them like this... Jesus, Jesus!
They were scared of Poles and Germans alike.
Because our people, our sons of bitches could be worse than the Germans.
Where do you live now? In Warsaw?
- No, in America. - Oooh, in America!
- How did you get there? - I left for America.
- So did my mother... - It must have been a long time ago?...
Yes. And my mother left too...
My father didn't want me to stay in the dugout
so he left me with a farmer in Wolka.
The farmer made moonshine and he made me drink it
to test whether it was strong enough or not.
One day he took me to another village
and wanted to leave me there.
He said I would have a good life there because the farmers were good people.
One would give me food, another would let me sleep in a barn.
I could look after their cows. And this way I would survive.
But I didn't want to stay there.
When I refused, he got angry with me.
On our way back, we were walking through the woods
and suddenly he disappeared.
I started to scream, to call him, look for him.
When I finally found him, I caught his hand and wouldn't let go
until we got back to his house.
Later, my father came, and when he found out about it
he took me back to the dugout.
I had a brother, five years younger than me.
When I last saw him, he was about 18 months old.
My mother left him with a farmer. We don't know what happened to him.
Do you know what happened to my little brother?
What can you do now? All you can do is to find out...
...what happened. And I am not sure myself.
There was a man, Stasko Latosek, from the village of Dobre.
They must have talked to him, the Jews.
He must have taken money to keep the brat.
It was a cute little kid.
When you put a watch to his ear, he'd say: "Tic tac, tic tac..."
He had black hair...
Stayed there for two weeks.
What happened to him after that?
You must understand,
it's a small place, everybody knows you.
Latosek never had a child like that
and all of a sudden there is this child...
So people started to gossip.
And the child was Jewish circumcised.
And if he hadn't been clipped...
then, you could only wonder: "Is he Polish or not?"
If he hadn't been clipped
nobody would have known he was Jewish.
Stupid people. Why the hell do it to a boy when a war's going on?
In the end, there was a rumor
that Latosek left the child near the mill.
Something went wrong and he changed his mind.
He left him on his way to the mill.
Somebody must have left him over there, near the mill.
The baby was sleeping there, warmly dressed.
Some women from Piwki went there
and took him to my husband's uncle's house.
The boy was more than a year old. He could walk.
And he called: "Mama, Mamele, Mamele!"
and looked around for his mother.
He called: "Mameh, Mameh", in Yiddish.
I had a brother five years younger than me...
It is possible... the face is similar.
They gave the boy some food,
but they were all afraid to keep him.
They didn't know what to do so they asked the village administrator.
The administrator ordered the man who took...
the boy in the first place to put him on a cart
and take him to the police station...
See, everybody was afraid.
Nobody wanted to take the risk.
My husband's uncle cried when he was telling us about it.
He said: "I felt so sorry for him. I could raise him,
but I'd lose everything. People would betray me.
They'd tell the Germans."
Some people were such bastards.
They did it out of greed...
The Germans would give them sugar as a reward...
Neighbors would betray one another after the smallest fight.
- Hello. - Hello.
- I am Henryk Grynberg. - Who?
- I'm Grynberg.
- Grynberg? - Yes.
- I don't know.
- I'm Abram's son. - Aa, Abram's...
I knew you all. Abram used to come by my window. I gave him food.
Do you remember me when I was a little boy?
I do. I am 80 years old, so I remember.
Did I come here with my father?
No, I never saw you, only your father...
And your younger brother, who was two years old...
I was there, in Jadow, when the policeman called Stein shot him.
- Are you sure it was my brother? - Yes, we saw the whole thing.
I wasn't alone, there were other people in the market place...
We knew it was Abram's son.
He was a pretty little boy.
We stood there and saw the policeman escorting the boy to a dumping ground
behind the building where there is now a courthouse.
He executed many people there.
The little boy walked quietly ahead of him,
then he looked back and the policeman shot him.
Did you hear the shot?
- Jesus, sure we did... - And you saw how it happened?
It was as far as from here to that clamp.
We deliberately watched and saw it...
Do you remember the Jews who lived in this area?
- I do. - Do you remember Abram
from Radoszyna by any chance? - Oh, I knew him well.
Yes? What do you remember about him?
I went to elementary school with his sisters.
His father lived on the estate in Nowa Wies.
- He was a dairy contractor. - Yes, he was...
The girls were Rywka, Fejga and Itka. I knew them well.
We played together as kids. Abram was older than me.
He became a dairy contractor at another estate.
He was doing well. He got married. I knew his wife.
They had a beautiful child.
He almost survived... almost. Somebody killed him...
I can't say who did it. I wasn't there.
- I'm not sure... - Nobody told you who did it?
It's not easy to find out, Mister. Not easy...
Maybe somebody knew, but wouldn't say. I'm pretty sure that by now
the killer himself has rotted in his grave, the son of a bitch.
- Henio?... - Yes... But how do you know my name?
I remember you as a child.
- You remember me? - I do.
That night your mom knocked on our window and called:
"Please let us in, my son is sick..."
I remember that very well.
- You mean I was here, in your house? - Yes. You were just a little child,
six or seven.
Abram, your father, with your mother, were asking my father to open.
And my father let you in.
- Was it at night? - Yes. You came from the woods.
- Did we stay overnight?
- You stayed until morning. Until dawn.
You were sick, throwing up.
And your mom kept saying: "Henio, Henio, my son..."
Your socks were all wet. I can't forget your father and mother.
I'm so... I'm so glad to see you.
Dear God...
Really...
I remember how your mom called your name: "Henio, Henio!"
And I remember your mom's words: "You saved us, you saved our lives!"
But what else could we do? They stayed a while, warmed up.
Before dawn, your father knew it was time to go.
You had to be cautious about the neighbors.
The neighbors were not sweet.
Some people said Jews are human and you have to give them some food,
but others didn't like that...
Some, out of spite, could inform the Germans and the Jews would
be caught and those Poles who sheltered them could be killed, too.
Usually Jews didn't come inside the house, but stayed in the woods.
Only Abram came because he knew my folks.
My parents carried food for you to the woods for some time.
Several times.
I remember.
My mother was afraid the neighbors might notice, so she hid
the soup pot in a bucket.
I remember needles of the pine trees dropping into my food...
One day my mother came and said that Abram said he's moving further away,
to some other place.
He knew something.
He said: "Don't bring any food after today."
They probably moved on further.
We didn't know where he went.
Just disappeared in the woods. And he didn't come anymore...
It's good that, at least, you're alive...
Hello. May I talk to you? I am the son of Abram from Radoszyna.
You knew Abram, my father?
Didn't you?
There is no point in going over this.
We sheltered Jews and gave them food. No one gave anything to me
Only fear...
- So you did shelter Jews? - Of course.
Who was here?
What's the use of telling you...
Do you know how dangerous it was to hide a Jew?
They could burn down your house and execute your whole family.
Just for letting a Jew into your home. Just for helping out.
Do you understand?
But people took the risk.
But it wasn't possible to go on like that for long.
They were here too.
- Did my father come to you, too? - Not just once. About five times.
- Did we spend a night at your place? - Yes, in the cow barn.
I remember we slept in a barn, above the cows...
You came here several times. Maybe three months.
But then you had to run. There was no other way.
You knew yourselves you needed to go because people started to squeal.
Do you know what happened to my father?
I don't think Abram was killed. He must have died.
He is buried there, by the water.
Do you know anybody who saw him killed?
Oh, yeah...
Look at him! He wants me to tell...
Why not tell him, he is a son.
What do you care? I don't care.
Let him know. His heart is bleeding...
Well, the one who killed your father is dead too.
So you know who he was...
- Who was it? - Go and find out for yourself!
You know, but you don't want to tell me?
I don't want to. If I tell, they'd cut my head off one night...
But you've just said that the man is dead. So don't be afraid.
Don't be afraid? Man, their family is still here.
Do you understand? And shame... What do you think!
I won't tell anymore... It's cold.
One night we had to run away from a farmhouse.
Maybe the farmer was afraid to keep us or maybe somebody betrayed us.
We dragged ourselves through deep snow.
I was very tired and sleepy and I was falling behind.
I lied down on the snow
and asked my mom and father to leave me there.
I remember my mom was crying.
They both were very tired too. Finally my father took me on his back
and I fell asleep on his back.
People say he is buried by some water.
That's what I heard, but don't know for sure.
People say all sorts of things.
What did people say?
People...
I don't want to repeat what they said.
- Didn't they say who killed him? - I don't know.
- How was he killed? - I don't know.
- When he was killed? - So many years. It's gone.
But people still remember. You do.
I was just a small boy then, what can I remember...
I know.
He had a son. One son.
Such a pretty boy. Perhaps it's you, hah?
Perhaps you are his pretty little Jew?
He had a pretty little son.
And his wife was very pretty. A short woman, I remember.
Because he was handsome himself.
I remember that he came here. He was running, from the woods.
He came to our house because he knew us.
He asked for a razor. He wanted to shave.
My husband gave him a razor and he shaved in front of a mirror.
Then my husband asked me to give Abram some bread.
I did and he left. That's all I know.
He asked for a cap so he wouldn't be recognized.
My husband gave him also a coat. And so he went.
Later we heard that some bastard killed him.
That he killed Abram.
My husband came and said - you know what happened?
That so-and-so killed Abram!
And he did it for the cows.
Abram had asked him to take care of his two cows,
and that bastard wanted to keep the cows, so he killed Abram.
That's how it was...
Our people were astonished.
How could such a villain do such a thing to a man he knew,
a man who grew up here...
- To kill a man for two cows? - Who was it?
Wojteniak... or Wojtyniak... I don't know.
I don't...
Or Wojtynski...
...or Wojtyniak...
I don't know.
I don't remember their last name...
Both brothers...
- My father told me. - What did he tell you?
- He said that both of them... - What are their names?
Wojtynski, Jan and Stanislaw.
Jan is still alive, but Stanislaw is dead.
There... Abram was found lying in that pit.
Did they kill him there?
He was on his way to my grandfather's house to get milk, as always.
They killed him that night. They took off his clothes
and he lied there naked for a week.
- For a week? - Yes, before they buried him.
He was hit on his head with an axe.
With an axe.
Did people know he was killed with an axe?
- Did people see that? - They saw a wound on his head.
He lay naked, only his private parts were covered by a rag,
so that children wouldn't see.
- Was he lying in water? - Yes, in a pit. In water.
All I know is they have killed him.
Because they were wicked people.
Everybody says so.
- Did anybody see or hear? - No, but everyone knew it.
Because later on the brothers quarreled and gave each other away.
- They did? - The other one had to move from here,
because people were mocking him.
They wouldn't leave him alone.
Everyone kept calling him a murderer. That's why he had to leave.
Well, I have to go, because people are looking here from the other side...
- Mister Wojtynski?
- Yes.
- Good morning. - Good morning.
- Jan Wojtynski? - Yes.
- I came here from America... - So what?
...and I'd like to ask if you remember my father Abram, from Radoszyna.
Yes, I do...
- Did he come here? - What?
- Did he come to this farm?... - No, not here...
But did you see him here during the occupation
when he had to hide?
- Did he come from time to time? - No.
...asking for help?... - I saw him once only...
...only once. He came...
and...
Dirty, unshaven...
he came
...and he knelt before me... "Jan" he said, "Kill me..."
I don't want to live anymore,
I don't want to hide anymore from the Germans" he said.
And I said: "Listen...
Don't you know where they kill people?"
And I said: "You are asking me to kill you?"
I was just a kid...
I could have been fifteen years old.
Not more.
And I said: "Go back where you came from! Go away, run!"
But he insisted: "Kill me." I said: "Leave me alone,
don't you know where they kill people?
Go, if you don't want to live, go there and they'll kill you"
I didn't see him again after that.
What happened to him later?
I won't tell.
I won't tell because I don't know.
I don't know. I don't remember.
I won't tell...
- Do you know what some are saying?
- What?
That your brother could be the one who killed my father.
Look, Mister. I was ten years younger than my brother.
He was a grown married man. And who was I?
A youngster just out of school...
How should I know?
I can't know that.
People told me that you also took part in it...
Not at all. There wasn't anything like that.
What do you want?
I don't want you here! Understand?
But why?...
I want... I must know what's that about!
You came here... You are filming...
Alright, I'll tell you. Just listen to me.
It's because your father knew my father
and I would like to know
what happened to my family and to my father...
I'll break those things, do you hear me?
We came to your father to ask if he could tell us...
- You should talk not only to my father.
He is old and maybe he doesn't want to talk.
- But your father is a witness... - I don't care!
Naked.
He lay naked in this pit.
Right here.
I was there when they buried your father. In March.
Was he lying on his back or face down?
On his back. He had wounds...
On his head or...
He had wounds on the head.
Could they be seen?
Murdered... by someone. No traces...
But he had a milk bottle with him
and when they buried him, they threw the bottle on the dead man.
The bottle was next to him.
Next to him?
A milk bottle. I remember.
A long milk bottle. One liter size.
The glass was there.
If you'll find the glass, it will be the place. For sure.
I was there. It must be here.
I remember that my father always carried a bottle.
A big bottle...
...and he used to take it when he went to get milk.
He could sneak into a barn and milk a cow
straight into the bottle
and he brought warm milk for me and for all of us.
My father was with me in the dugout that day.
That's where I said "good bye" to him.
I was taken out of the dugout at dawn.
I walked without looking back,
and my father called out: "Won't you say good-bye to me, son?"
I felt ashamed and turned toward him.
and
I don't know if he hugged me or I hugged him...
And that was the last time I saw him.
That's the bottle!
Oh, Lord!
Directed by
Director of Photography
Editing
Sound
Production Management
Artistic Supervisor
Special thanks
Production
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