The Kanada warehouses of Auschwitz were a slice of hope in an inferno of hell. Prisoners assigned there were given the task of sorting and cataloguing the stolen possessions of every suitcase confiscated from the inmates. This was widely considered the best job in Auschwitz. Prisoners could spend their days indoors and would sometimes find food hidden away in the suitcases. This did not mean there was ever a moment of solace. Sitting at a wooden table all day sorting stolen belongings of other Jews who’d likely already gone up the chimney was in and of itself a morbid task. The real danger was the boredom of the Nazi guards tasked with monitoring their work, and the vicious cruelty of the Ukrainian thugs who did their bidding. It was not uncommon to feel the crack of their whip across one’s back for seemingly no reason. A fellow inmate could be whipped to death for dozing off or feeling faint from exhaustion and hunger at literally any moment. For the women there was the constant threat that one of the violent thugs would trap them in an enclosed space. The result was often a quick moment of sexual gratification for the guard, and an unending nightmare for the victim.
Stealing was forbidden. Pocketing even the smallest, worthless item was a crime punishable by the cruelest death imaginable. Nevertheless, everyone stole from time to time. Belongings were currency and could be used to bribe guards in tight spots or to trade for food. The greatest treasure was anything edible. A crust of bread, a piece of candy, anything that someone at some point thought they might get to savor upon arrival. The prisoners in the unpacking section of Kanada were too hungry to think of anything other than food.
That was what took their mind off the cruel task forced upon them. They spent day after day rummaging through an assembly line of the despoliation of their people. All Jewish belongings had been requisitioned by the Germans and were to be sent immediately back to the Reich. Virtually anything of even the most remote value made its way to Germany. That is, of course, not including the items pocketed by the guards for their own personal collections. Most popular were always clothing and jewelry. This little Nazi criminal ring worked to the benefit of the Kanada-Kommando Jews. There existed a tacit agreement between the guards and the slaves. In exchange for not reporting theft to the watch commander, the Jews could eat the scraps of food that they found. They were also given the privilege of hot showers each night in the large sauna adjacent to their storehouse. These two “luxuries” made the Kanada-Kommando the most coveted job in all of the hell known as KZ Auschwitz.
Within just a few days of her arrival to Kanada, Natalia had learned pretty much all the tricks of the trade. She learned how to reach down to the floor without the guards looking in order to pick up discarded cigarette butts from the floor. There was always just a bit of tobacco left in each one. One or two puffs did wonders for blunting the pangs of hunger that never disappeared. This too was cause for serious punishment, but the reward of a momentary relief from starvation usually outweighed the risk. She learned never to make eye contact with a Nazi or a Ukrainian guard. She learned never to make small talk with the Jews sitting beside her. Some of the Jews did talk to each other, and often they got away with it. But for Natalia, there was no point to drawing attention to herself. Such things usually resulted in a whip to the back, a punch in the head, or being sent off to a punishment from which one did not return. Natalia became a silent and unassuming cog in the assembly line and did her best not to let her mind drift. She refused to allow herself to think about what her body felt like before the process of dehumanization began. She did her best to forget about the long flowing hair she once had, her beautiful fingernails, her perfumes. She resisted thoughts of home. She ignored any thoughts of the smell of the fresh flowers that her mother used to place on their kitchen table, the warmth of her bed, the embrace of her family, the sounds of Shabbat. This was not a place for that. This was a place where if you lost focus, you died. If you slipped up, you died. Dying was easy here. Living was next to impossible. But so long as she had breath left in her body, Natalia was determined to be one of the ones who would live and make it through to the other side of this hell.
The sorting was not particularly arduous. She felt awful for those assigned to backbreaking jobs outdoors in the elements. Each day Natalia could see how some of the other Kanada-Kommando workers would look longingly at the items that passed before them. They would look closely at photographs in hopes that they would recognize someone. They took hold of jewelry items for just a brief moment and compared them to something they once owned. Now the thought of owning anything more than a wooden soup bowl was beyond any prisoner’s imagination. But there was a time once where these things were theirs. They too had candlesticks and Kiddush cups. Now they spent their days shipping these items back to the Reich to be melted down into weapons. Each item could bring back a flood of memories that brought a rush of images of a life stolen and destroyed. Natalia was getting better and better at training her mind to ignore the pain of sentimentality and focus exclusively on the task at hand—survival. She was proud of herself for the determination and strength she showed every day. She was proud of herself for ignoring the story that existed behind each one of these items. But then one day, one particular item told her story all too well.
It wasn’t the first mezuzah she had seen. In fact, the amount of Judaica that passed through Kanada each day was immense. In the gas chambers, the Nazis were killing the Jewish people. In the Kanada barracks, they were killing off their religion. Still, there was no real time to dwell on these tragedies. Even if one wanted to ponder the enormity of the destruction, the pains of hunger and the threat of physical abuse didn’t allow it. That was, until one day a certain mezuzah came in front of Natalia. It wasn’t particularly attractive, well crafted, or valuable. Like so many others, it had the Hebrew letter shin attached to the front, which stood for Shaddai, one of the Divine appellations. That particular name for God could also be understood as an acronym—Shomer, Delatot, Yisrael, Guardians of the Doors of Israel, as Natalia’s father once explained to her. The mezuzah on the wall is what keeps you safe, she was taught. It is what keeps God’s divine presence hovering over the abode.
Natalia had come across many of these little shins as mezuzah after mezuzah passed through her hands. This shin, though, was different. First, its size and shape were identical to the one that hung on the doorpost of her home back in Lodz. It was only about two centimeters in length and width, but its thick silver body gave it a sturdier appearance. Even more unique, this shin dangled from the mezuzah and was just about to fall off from the tiny, rusted nail that once held it in place. In the rush of the moment, Natalia made an executive decision. She had never taken anything other than food, but this little shin was worth it. Without even looking to see if anyone was watching, she peeled off the letter and quickly stuck it in her shoe.
It remained beneath her heel for the rest of the day until she returned in the late evening to her barracks. There she had her first chance to look at her new treasure. If she were caught with it, it would mean certain death. But for the first time she could allow herself to believe that she had something to look forward to. The little shin in her heel had gotten her through that day and gave her a sense of pride. It also reminded her of home. Natalia’s bunkmates were immediately frightened at the thought of being caught with a piece of Judaic contraband, but they were fascinated to hear about Natalia’s moment of bravery.
Natalia had a plan for keeping the shin safe among the tightly packed bunk beds. The wooden beam above her bunk was old and shabby and riddled with holes. She carefully placed the tiny shin inside one of the holes and covered it up with bits of lint and dust. Nobody would ever find it, and it would give the women a sense of quiet rebellion in that they were defying the Nazis’ quest to wipe out their faith. For Natalia, this brief act of defiance and reminder of home buoyed her spirits and carried her through the next few days and months. She only had to remember that if she ever got out of this hell on earth, she would need to retrieve her little shin on the way out.