Translation : Marie-Paule Wagner
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Translation : Marie-Paule Wagner |
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A few words for the ceremony in memory of my mother : a tribute to a great lady. (02/04/2006) |
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My mother, Hélène Niederman Krausz, was born in Budapest on 5 December, 1900 and departed this world at the residence Santa Maria del Carmen in Ica on 8 March, 2006 at 4:30 in the morning. I was taken to Lima in an emergency ambulance a few hours prior to her death. Her doctor later told my daughter, Brigitte, that he had never ever before seen such remarkable communication between two human beings in spite of my mother’s lethargic critical state.
When she was six months old, her parents emigrated to Vienna where she lived till 1924 when she emigrated to Paris and married my father. From those days onwards they lived at 37, boulevard St Martin where my father set up his jewellery workshop which the Germans demolished in 1942 after my father’s arrest. My mother spent the last years of her life with us – my wife, Carmen, and I – in Los Patos, but each and every year she used to travel to Paris as she needed to be back in her flat, where she used to stay for six weeks from May till June. That is how she enjoyed he last few years. During her childhood she had been educated without any religious practice and left nothing stating how she would like her funerals to be. I remembered suddenly, however, that she told me that when the French police, on 17 July, 1942 came to arrest my father, she prayed Shema Israel, Adonai Eloenou, Adonai ehat (« Listen Israel, our God is eternal, our God is One »). That could only mean that deep in her she must have had Jewish roots. I then thought that her education in the Austrian Hungarian Empire must have left something fairly strong in her. Many of the State’s bodies were in fact in the hands of the Church. So when at the age of seven, she fell ill with diphteria – a fatal disease in those days – her parents had no other choice but to send her to a hospital which was in the hands of nuns. At the bottom of her bed, there was a sign reading « of Jewish faith », while on the other beds it read « of Christian faith ». She, however, had wonderful memories from her stay in hospital: the nuns were spoiling her and the children used to play together whatever each other’s religious faith. She pulled through and recovered. Another typical example of that period: according to the school’s curriculum, pupils had to attend religion lessons – the Jews with a Rabbi and the Christians with a priest. I realised she did indeed have a religious experience. She was a brilliant student and she took the rigor and the refinement that prevailed in Vienna in those days. That explains we are having a religious ceremony with only a restricted number of dear old friends as my mother would have liked, who only look out for authenticity.
by Robert Niederman, her son.
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In 1924, my uncle Geza and my aunt Hélène chose to live in a flat at 37, boulevard St Martin in the 3rd district. The couple gave birth to my cousins Robert and his brother Emile who were born respectively in 1925 and 1927. In those years, my aunt Hélène had plenty to do as a mother and a housewife and she would always do her shopping herself because she was an excellent cook who let nobody else take over.
She also kept her husband’s books for the jewellery shop, served him as a PR with excellent results whether the issues were administrative, commercial or simply with her neighbours, more precisely because she only wanted the best integration possible for herself and her family in a world which was rather new and somewhat different from Central Europe where the family had come from. Around the same time, My uncle Louis – Geza’s brother – arrived in Paris and married aunt Elly, a few years later. My father Martin, called Marcel, discovered Paris around the same time and met my mother a few years later. They had many friends and family who immigrated around the same time. That was so, but why should I mention those events? ? Because they all landed at my uncle Geza and my aunt Hélène’s to find a place where they knew they would be listened to and answered their most useful and intimate questions in Hungarian. I have been told that aunt Hélène, when it came to such issues, proved to be very patient, considerate and skilled. Aunt Hélène made a lot of efforts to try and solve each and every problem: whether it was to find a job, solve administrative issues, find accommodation…, but before the solutions actually became concrete, she would feed everybody, no matter how many of them were there. It even happened sometimes that she had to put up a bed in her office till they could find a place to live. Each and every one of the people I have mentioned did describe with many details the generosity, spontaneity, availability, warmth, courage, smile, work, exhaustion which have never alterd aunt Hélène’s wonderful devotion. She was always the perfect example of a firend and family for everybody, no matter whom. Aunt Hélène lived like that until 1938 because after the arrivals of the close and less close Hungarian people came the arrivals of the close and less close Germans and Austrians. Aunt Hélène and uncle Geza made huge efforts: it was difficult indeed to show so much solidarity with the so many people, even more so as after the 1929 crisis, jewellery really suffered the brunt of the aftermath and their only option was to go into fashion jewellery till the worst days of the war. 1942: uncle Geza was arrested by the French police and deported by the Nazis. Aunt Hélène managed to escape by eluding the vigilance of the policemen, and she succeeding in travelling to the free zone, after undergoing many a risky trip. Their flat at 37, boulevard St Martin is allocated to an “Aryan” family upon a decision taken by the Préfecture of Paris. In June 1944, my cousin Emile is being arrested before being deported by the Nazis. That same year, aunt Hélène – in spite of being shaken by all her miseries – nevertheless found the necessary resources to take up action to get her flat back. She then started to set up a wholesale jewellery outlet which she led to success in only a few years. At that time, there was a cinema in the building where she lived, 37, boulevard St Martin; it was called Kinerama. It was Ali Baba's cavern (the manager was a Turk and we had the password), and it was showing all the old American detective stories and Westerns all the year round. As aunt Hélène was a friend of the owners, all the young people that happened to stay with her, could see a film if they wanted. In summer, it used to be so hot that the staff had to open everything that could be opened in the projection room and the spectators' which opened to the building's yard and the tenants did the same in their flats for the same reasons, and from 2 pm till 1 in the morning, Zorro's duels, shouting and firing with loud musical backgrounds would fill aunt Hélène's flat, her head and her guests’. It was very difficult to talk to each other, but she used to say: « Nothing to worry about, I'm used to all that » and she would smile. Around 1960 a lift was installed in the building, but up till then she had been used to climbing to her 3rd floor flat with her bags returning from a trip to the market and she would do that not only once a day, but sometimes several times according to how many people were going to be her guests. Her flat was hardly ever empty. And she did that for nealy 34 years, but if she was sometimes tired or exhausted, she never showed anything sign of it to any of us. That is when she took on a young Hungarian Romanian, called Shandor whom aunt Hélène taught herself as she wished to make housework easier for herself so that she could spend more time in the business which had now becoming a booming one. When she got rid of that job, she decided to devote all her time and efforts to the various and many activities born by her job. She spent all her time on her customers, her suppliers, her craftsmen, her makers, her books, her expeditions, her repair works... In the 60s, aunt Hélène was now mainly dealing in gold watches surrounded by brilliants, which enabled her to get rid of the jewellery workshop and alter the flat into what it is today. There were still as many visitors as ever in the flat, and it has always been like that, and aunt Hélène was always happy, generous, considerate and radiant and always offered the others her very best. With these words I want to be a modest witness of the huge work that aunt Hélène has been so successful at, of her powerful and mature spirit, of her ability to solve by herself the problems - many of them insuperable - to keep her feet firmly on the ground whatever the circumstances. She wanted to be like everybody, but she was an exceptional lady. Your smile will always be with me. Your nephew, Jeannot |
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Budapest, Vienna, Paris, Paris again, Lima, Ica And walking on this earth for over a century The earth of your ancestors, the earth of your children, Of your grandchildren and of your great grandchildren Hungarian, German Yddish, French, Spanish And more living people and dead ones than words to say so. We were born from you, through him, your son, our father. Along the unruffled and unending steps of our childhood You stepped everywhere life offered you a land You carried memory, looking straight to the future Your firm kindness and your intelligence Your modesty and your quiet courage Your unperturbed honesty and your generosity Everything found roots in our children’s hearts as an evidence of life. Thank you for that too And the words have died out And despite the hurt of the absence, you are still there at the bottom of our hearts Your mischievous grey eyes filled with wisdom look upon us They impress us just like those of our children. I greet all those who knew you to share your memory with them And those who did not know you to be a witness of a life model, Without self-satisfaction and the image of your powerful writing. No, it is not a final good bye Ilonka Because you are in me.
by Diane Niederman, her granddaughter
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Mémé, Ilonka, my grandmother is dead, but she will always stay in my heart and in the hearts of all her descendants.
Her generosity, her intelligence, her wisdom, her humour used to marvel all those who were lucky to know her. From her childhood days and from her happy youth in the days of the Austrian Hungarian empire, she kept the art of life and culture. At her place German, Hungarian, Yiddish, French, English or Spanish could be spoken according to the circumstances. Her curiosity was without limits and she was always very interested in everybody. Her hospitality was natural with her and she used to welcome family and friends in her flat at 37, boulevard St Martin with the same warmth and generosity. Everybody relished to be in her company. She loved life and appreciated all the pleasures of it, which she would share with all those around her. Each day, however, of her long life since she lived to be 105, she remembered those dearest to her, murdered by the Nazis. And she made sure we would keep that memory alive. She proved a model of courage, strength, optimism and lucidity. She started again from scratch thanks to her son, Robert’s love and she succeeded in making a booming business out of the jewellery workshop my grandfather had created. Aged 95, she decided to leave Paris and live with her son and his wife, Carmen, in Ica. She spent happy years there with the love and devotion of Robert and Carmen who wer taking very good care of her. Her smiling face, her eyes filled with kindness, energy and brightness will always remain alive in our memories of this exceptional lady.
by Brigitte Avezou, her granddaughter
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The stars and heavenly bodies reflect the lights of a distant past, bathe the present in a warm light and guide the traveller towards a bright future. Mémé was and will always be for each and every one of us one of those stars. She used to send out a light from another world. She lived through the century with courage and dignity, bearing the weight of memories which are almost impossible to share. She hardly ever spoke of herself because she was more interested in us when we used to go and see her. When our uncle, however, suggested that she told her own history, she agreed with a great generosity to live those most painful times of her life once again, to ponder back on a past she used to keep buried deep, but which used to guess the importance of, and that we know better today thanks to her. Apart from such very exceptional moments, she has almost always been shining like the sun, her eyes bright, a smile over her face, ready to burst out in a most happy and sincere laughter which was her own. That is what Mémé was; a small lady deserving immense respect, who knew how to keep the past were it should be thanks to an incredible sense of humour, a mischievous and juvenile mind, a fine and sparkling repartee. She never ever moaned about her age, complained about progress or modernity. It was quite the opposite; with philosophy she used to enjoy having lived so long and seen daily life improve so much. There was genuine vitality coming from her, a will to live the present first and foremost and more so than ever as if she was answering all those who had had other plans for her and hers. Mémé was a warm and kind light in our daily lives. She will always be remembered as the grandmother everybody would love to have, the grandmother who would kiss us, make cakes and offer us gifts, who loved her grandchildren all the same, with a deep love and from the bottom of her heart, and who could still spend a whole day cooking for us while she was already over 80. She felt most happy when everybody felt good around her. The times we spent at her place were always a celebration for us, times of shared peace and fullness. We will always remember her flat, with its winding and surprising layout, in the boulevard Saint-Martin, in which we relished to meet all our cousins. Each room used to become a specific world, and our games would have been never ending ones. The kitchen and the dining-room were divided by a service hall which was long and narrow and we used to enjoy pushing the little two-tier trolley which was used in all our meals and snack times, and if it had not been for our parents we would have loved to test how much it could speed up! Mémé’s bedroom used to surprise us with its hugely high bed and her silver hair brush and comb, as well as that solid wood wardrobe in which Mémé would always keep samples of perfume for us she used to bring out like treasures whenever we went to see her. From her formal study furnished with a big bookcase decorated with old photos which would always raise thousands of questions from us, Mémé would always find something for us to write or draw on; that is where she would always come in close touch with my grandfather at least once a day thanks to the precious fax machine that had been given pride of place and almost seemed to be part and parcel of the family. In the warm living room decorated in green and wood, not overdecorated though, our grandfather would always use his stays in Paris to install the most performing audiovisual material which would leave Mémé somewhat puzzled, but thnks to which she always managed to record for us the old Walt Disney cartoons that we all enjoyed watching over and over again, comfortably settled on the settee or on the carpet. We do remember such affectionate and well being moment which used to brighten our present, but we also remember a great-grandmother looking to the future, who knew how to spur us on in our choices with confidence and an open mind. What we decided to study mattered little, what mattered were our expectations. When we used to explain to her what we were doing, Mémé would always start saying « But that is great! » or « That is so interesting! », before putting the inevitable question to us: « And… do you like it? ». If we answered positively she would give us a big smile and say: « That is the main thing ». This respect she would show us gave us the urge to move on and still today it helps us lead our lives to this self realisation she so much wanted for us. We will remember many many very different memories of Mémé; the gift she had to prepare those dishes which would take us to her native Hungary over the meal, the way she used to bend her head to the side to listen to us more carefully when we used to talk to her, or to shrug her shouldres giving us a mischievous glance when she thought that Robert was talking nonsense, the strong Hungarian accent she had when she used to speak French, although it was such a perfect French, and the way she used to tell us her favourite anecdotes, her talent to learn foreign languages and how easy it used to be for her to move from one to the other, her taste for nice things, nice books, literature, music, nice films and art in general, her beautiful handwriting with such regular downstrokes and upstrokes, and that till her very last day, the way she would always wonder herself with many exclamations marks how she could have lived from one end to the other through the twentieth century, the evident way she would sport when talking about women’s rights and human rights in general, the amused way in which she talked about Peru: « I have been there 27 times! », the joking tone she used last summer at nearly 105 when she saw Robert bringing her some water: « So, now we are going to get drunk! » before bursting out laughing, the insistance with which she kept repeating, in the same summer, that she found Emilie « really very beautiful », obviously feeling strongly for the look of this great-granddaughter who had come to see her and who may have reminded her of the features of other members of the family… We could go on for ages with all those images which, put together only give a superficial portrait of the lady who was for us an irreplaceable great-grandmother. We may be orphans today, but we are also wiser and stronger because we have known and loved this great-grandmother who had so much to offer and who will be in our hearts forever. May she live through us, like a small candle lit one day by a shooting star and wishing to light our path for a long time, and who has today gone on following her course. Our deepest wish today is to be a credit to her in finding our inspiration in the dignity and humanity she would show at any moment. Dearest Mémé, time has come for us to thank you, to kissyou gently and to bid farewell from you. Your memory will alwas be with us.
by Marie, a great-granddaughter,
together with Emilie, Anne-Laure and Amanda, three others. |
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