The Family
Published in Issue #36 Translated from Yiddish by Ruth MurphyEdited by Catherine Madsen
subscribe to unlock the full story
No such command had been issued, and no one had ever considered who it was that had granted the family such unlimited rights. All the family moved freely throughout the villages and forests of the partisan zone, and it was enough that in response to the demanded password, the answer would come, “the Onion Folk.” And with that they would even be allowed to pass into the sector headquarters.
No one ever called them by their real name. Not even the Jewish partisans, who knew that the old man was called Bere Leyb, his wife’s name was Sime, and their son, aside from his nickname “a ruble and twenty” (he limped a bit on one foot), had such a fine-sounding name as Itshe Velvel. As to the little girl with the thin braids that were always tightly plaited across her small blond head, she was simply called “the youngest.” Everyone, even the Jews, referred to them as nothing but “the Onion Folk.”
As the old man Bere Leyb explained it one time over a drink, the nickname originated from his keeping kosher. As it happened, one could come to a friendly peasant in the village and be treated to “a glass of milk… from a crazy cow” (moonshine, that is). To chase it down, the peasant would set out a few slices of dried sausage or some yellowed bacon. And Bere Leyb would turn his head away and entreat the master of the house: “A piece of onion will be plenty.” Thus...
Subscribe now to keep reading
Please enter your email to log in or create a new account.