We invite you to read another column by Agnieszka Witkowska-Krych from the series "Life in the Ghetto," in which the author discusses, among other things, the feeding of ghetto residents, the activities of ad hoc feeding stations for starving residents, and the Transferstelle, a soup kitchen for children and infants.
The author tells the story of the courthouses, which served as a transit point for food smugglers, Janusz Korczak's efforts to obtain aid for the Main House of Refuge, the so-called house committees, and the people and institutions that had to face the nearly impossible task of feeding the poor and saving them from starvation. We invite you to read this challenging book, based on a diverse and solid source base.
Warsaw-born Bogdan (Dawid) Wojdowski , who as a teenager found himself in the Warsaw Ghetto, in his moving novel "Bread for the Dead," based on facts and his own experiences , paints a picture of hunger for the inhabitants of the closed district: "The first days of hunger are the worst, then it becomes bearable. First comes weariness, arms and legs feel heavy, every word grows into a painful clamor in the ears. The colors do not please the eyes, and the light hurts them. (...) One is constantly thirsty, cracked lips dry up. The jaw clenches of its own accord, and pain erupts behind the ears at the sight of a tin spoon abandoned on the table. Then thoughts of food begin, terrible, exhausting fantasies. The stomach works like a siphon. The thought of a piece of turnip is enough for him, and his teeth crunch through the fibrous pulp, and the juice, faintly reminiscent of black turnip, milder in taste and sweetish, flows down his throat and moistens the swollen tongue, leaving a tart residue in the mouth. (...) The thought breaks away from the turnip and soars high. "When will they bring that bread?" (1971, pp. 24-25).
Bread – the object of desire for tens, hundreds of thousands of people crammed into a small area carved out of the so-called Northern District. The vast majority of whom died of hunger, disease, and exhaustion during the deportation operations and in the Treblinka extermination camp. Food: in the ghetto, alongside those craving bread and dreaming of turnips, there were also those who dined at the "L'Ourse" café, and the "Gazeta Żydowska" of August 1, 1941, reported that the kitchen at 11 Leszno Street "will distribute candy for adults and an additional 50 grams for children." This, however, does not change the overall picture of a place where obtaining food was a matter of paramount importance – a condition for, though not a guarantee of, survival.
Prof. Konrad Zieliński, head of the research department of the Warsaw Ghetto Museum
Bakery – Leszno 56
Undoubtedly, one of the most sought-after products in the ghetto was good-quality bread. Official food rations were far from sufficient, and what was available on the free market, though not for everyone, was far from prewar memories or even imaginations. So-called rationed bread, despite being subject to official inspections, often failed to meet any standards. Baked in a cost-effective manner, with sometimes bizarre ingredients, it lacked either flavor or nutritional value. One issue of "Gazeta Żydowska" ( Jewish Newspaper) reported that "instead of ensuring that consumers receive healthy, well-baked bread of a fair weight, bakers often deliver bread with added ingredients, baked with sifted flour and of a dishonest weight" ("Gazeta Żydowska" 1941, no. 74, p. 2).
Henryk Bryskier , among others, wrote about the poor quality of ghetto bread, recalling a case pending at the Office for Combating Usury and Speculation: "A baker is accused of baking bread with sand added. The evidence is in the case files. To establish the basis for the accusation, the judge takes a sample of old bread to his mouth. The crackling sound of sand being crushed in his teeth is heard. A second analysis takes place: the piece of bread is placed in a glass of water, in which the sand from the softened bread is supposed to settle to the bottom of the glass. The baker objects. He claims that the sand crackling in the presiding judge's teeth is within the norm and comes from millstones, that he received such flour from his baking allocation, and that any sediment in the glass cannot be used as a reliable basis for the assessment. The judge and the lay judges are not experts. During the deliberation, everyone agrees that the bread contains a lot of sand, and even other admixtures. The prosecutor insisted severe punishment" (Henryk Bryskier, "Jews under the Swastika, or the Warsaw Ghetto in the 20th Century", Warsaw 2006, pp. 112-113).
This not-always-tasty ghetto bread, if it was sold, was still coveted by many residents. People begging on the streets persistently asked passersby for even a piece. Bogdan Wojdowski, who had lived in the ghetto as a teenager, wrote about this after the war: "A gang of beggars was approaching down the street. A steady hum was approaching, the clang of desperately shaking tin cans. A cry was approaching, the cry of a hungry crowd: 'People, good people, people, have mercy. Give us a piece of bread, people.'" The bowls and spoons of the almsgivers rattled furiously" (Bogdan Wojdowski, "Chleb rzut śmierci" [Cheap Thrown to the Dead], available online: https://wolnelektury.pl/media/book/pdf/wojdowski-chleb-rzut-umarlym.pdf , ibid.: p. 15).
At 56 Leszno Street was one of the bakeries belonging to Daniel Blajman , who was the head of the Bakers' Union in the ghetto. He came from a family of bakers; his father had already run a well-known bakery at 19 Gęsia Street in the 1920s, which advertised itself in "Nasz Przegląd" as the first automatic matzo factory in Poland (Nasz Przegląd 1926, no. 90 (1150), p. 1). Daniel Blajman was rumored in the ghetto to be, on the one hand, a financial tycoon ("Ringelblum Archive. The Warsaw Ghetto." Part 2, vol. 34, Warsaw 2016, p. 269), and on the other, that he supported the underground, but above all, that he provided free bread and other food to needy children. It is likely that Korczak's letter was addressed to his wife, Felicja, also known for her aid work. He asked for support for the largest ghetto orphanage, the Main Shelter. A draft of the letter has been preserved and reads as follows: "Good and kind Madam. Have you heard about the unfortunate orphanage at Dzielna 39? Ninety-six children died in January. Today, Śliska Street, formerly Chłodna Street, and even earlier Krochmalna Street, has 200 kilograms of the rusks you donated. How much good they brought when there was no bread. I would like to visit you to ask for advice (a bread test) – to ask for a donation for children with digestive problems" ("Janusz Korczak in the Ghetto. New Sources", ed. Aleksander Lewin, Warsaw 1992, p. 131). Unfortunately, it is not known whether the letter was ultimately sent, nor is it known whether it provoked any reaction from the addressee.
Agnieszka Witkowska-Krych – cultural anthropologist, Hebraist, sociologist, in recent years a curator at the Museum of Warsaw, researcher of the life and legacy of Janusz Korczak, collaborator of the Forum for Dialogue Foundation and the Center for Yiddish Culture, author of texts on "last matters" – the last journey of Korczak and his charges, the last performance of the pupils of the Jewish Orphanage and the last notes in Korczak's Diary.
