I remember playing in the back yard of our home in Warsaw.
Suddenly I heard a woman’s voice and a lot of screaming.
Nazi soldiers were beating the woman’s son. He lay bleeding.
It was then that it started. All Jews had to leave.
I put my things into a doll’s pram. We were forced into the Warsaw Ghetto.
Food was so scarce. Many lay in the streets, asleep or dead.
One day mother took me to the Ghetto gate and pushed me out.
“You’ve got to go. Go straight and turn right,” she said.
I found my way to the home of a Catholic friend.
Immediately the woman hid me.
“Don't sneeze, don't cough, don’t move,” she said.
I was taken to a Catholic priest to get false identity papers.
He taught me to repeat in German, “Holy Mary, mother of God”.
I didn’t know who Mary was.
Later I was hidden in a barn with animals.
Eventually I was taken to Germany as slave labour.
After the war, I was sent to New Zealand.
I felt abandoned. When someone put a hand on my shoulder, it meant so much.
Years later, I heard David Irving deny the Holocaust on radio.
So I went to his meeting at the university.
I objected to what Irving said but was told “sit down and shut up”.
I asked one of the security men why they were there.
“The Jews”, he said. “They get their hands on the banks and all that.”
I felt the blood go to my skull.