Last Witnesses : An Oral History of the Children of World War II

“I’M YOUR MAMA…”

Tamara Parkhimovich SEVEN YEARS OLD. NOW A SECRETARY-TYPIST.

All through the war I thought about my mama. I lost my mama in the first days…

We were sleeping, and our Pioneer camp was bombed. We ran out of the tents, ran around crying: “Mama! Mama!” The teacher shook me by the shoulders to calm me down, and I shouted, “Mama! Where’s my mama?” Finally she pressed me to her: “I’m your mama.”

I had a skirt, a white blouse, and a red kerchief hanging on my bedstead. I put them on, and we went on foot to Minsk. On the way many children were met by their parents, but my mama wasn’t there. Suddenly they said, “The Germans are in the city…” We all turned back. Somebody said he had seen my mother—dead.

Here there’s a gap in my memory…

How we reached Penza I don’t remember, how they brought me to the orphanage I don’t remember. Blank pages in my memory…All I remember is that there were many of us, and we slept two to a bed. If one cried, the other also began to cry: “Mama! Where’s my mama?” I was little, one nanny wanted to adopt me. But I kept thinking about mama…

I was coming from the dining room, the children all cried, “Your mama is here!” It rang in my ears: “Your ma-a-a-ama…Your ma-a-a-ama…” I had dreams about mama every night. My real mama. And suddenly she came in reality, but I thought it was a dream. I see—mama! And I don’t believe it. They spent several days persuading me, but I was afraid to get close to mama. What if it’s a dream? A dream! Mama cried, and I shouted, “Don’t come near me! My mama was killed!” I was afraid…I was afraid to believe my happiness…

Even now I…All my life I’ve cried in the happiest moments of my life. Drowning in tears. All my life…My husband…We’ve lived in love for many years. When he proposed to me: “I love you. Let’s get married”—I burst into tears. He was frightened: “Did I upset you?” “No! No! I’m happy!” But I can never be completely happy. Totally happy. It somehow doesn’t come out. I’m afraid of happiness. It always seems that it’s just about to end. This “just about” always lives in me. That childhood fear…