Drancy- Bobigny, une randonnée de la mémoire

Ita Malka mon arrière grand-mère-année 30's

Sur la commode de mes grands-parents, il y a un bibelot. Ils y tiennent beaucoup. Les 3 petits singes tous alignés. Si j'avais eu un marteau, je les aurai détruit tous les 3 tous d'un coup. Bang..

"Je n'entend rien semble dire le 1er, je ne vois rien dit le second , je ne parle pas dit le troisième"

J'aime poser des questions. J'en pose souvent. Mais pourquoi, mais comment mais avec qui...??? A ces questions, on me donne une gentille histoire, une histoire du soir pour s'endormir tranquillement, sans fantôme ni bourreau. J'en pose encore. Ils m'appellent le marteau piqueur. "Mais allais tu à la synagogue avant la guerre? Non ce n'est pas la peine, Dieu est dans mon cœur me répond ma grand-mère. Quand as tu su que ta maman ne reviendrait jamais? Dis, es tu déjà allée à Drancy? Ca ressemble à quoi d'abord? Ce n'est pas la peine, je te dis, tout est dans mon cœur et mon cœur est grand. Mais dis, c'est bizarre, des gens habitent vraiment dedans de nos jours???"

Puis, vint le temps des silences, où les questions n'ont plus de place, où tout semble être dit et acquis. Puis vint le temps de l'oubli. Des photos sans noms, des histoires tant de fois répétées et écoutées mais jamais vérifiées...

Alors il était temps...

But who is Ita Malka?

Once upon a time in a beautiful orange kitchen from the early 80's, were sitting a grandma and her little daughter. The little girl didn't want to eat. She claimed for a story instead. Please tell me the one when you cross the demarcation line. You have to know that the little girl knew the story by heart. But it did not matter it was a really good story. 
So says the gradma: "i had to take off my yellow david star from my coat when i was on this train taking me to Vierzon. Then I met the lady that helped me cross over the line. It was a dark night and the german soldiers were up on the bridge. We had to be careful and quiet because each moves could cost both our lives. But what happened, asked the little girl? We managed it and when i was on the other side of the bridge i cried , i couldn't stop. 

But where were you going to? the little girl asked. To Avignon, into the  free zone to meet your great great grand father who had managed the journey. And then I met your grand father, I fell in love with him and I could eat jams a lot thanks to his mum. Is that what love means? Eating jams? asked the little girl. The grand mother laughed and said " you know we had nothing to eat at this time so everything was good".

But where was your mum? the little girl asked. Why were you on her own at 18 dealing with such "tsoures" (problems in yiddish).

Finish your dish answered the grandma . I tell you later the story of Ita Malka, your great great grand mother.

Ita Malka means  little queen in yiddish