Revolution Baby Read Online Free PDF Page A

that from the top you could see all of Paris. Most of my friends were jealous, others thought I was making it up, that I was just going to the seaside or the mountains and I’d tell them any old thing when I got back.
    â€œIf you want us to believe you, you’re going to have to bring back some proof,” said Tadeusz, the biggest boy in the playground. “And not just some little souvenir that anyone could have brought you—we’re not stupid.”
    â€œHe’ll have to show us a picture of himself in front of the Eiffel Tower.”
    â€œBut the Eiffel Tower is too big to fit on a photo!”
    â€œWhat are you talking about, Alek? Haven’t you ever seen a photo of the Eiffel Tower? Where have you been all these years?”
    â€œWell, I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower on photos, it’s just that I’ve forgotten, it was when I was little.”
    â€œI’ll show you a photo with me on it, that way you’ll be obliged to believe me.”
    And I told myself that not only would I bring back a photo, I would also try to remember everything that happened, everything I saw during the holidays. When I got back, they would beg me time and time again to tell them about my trip to Paris.
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    One morning in July, 1936, I took the tram to the station with Hugo and Fruzia. I had two big suitcases that Fruzia had packed and repacked several times over the last few days. While I had been on cloud nine ever since they told me about my vacation in France, Fruzia, on the other hand, seemed really put out that we were going. A few minutes before we left the house she was still rushing around and around my room, getting clothes out of the suitcase and putting others in their place. Despite my happiness, it made me sad to see her like that. I tried to reassure her: “Don’t worry, Mama, everything will be fine. I’ll be good for Lena, nothing bad will happen to me.” Which earned me a hug against Fruzia’s breast so tight I nearly died of suffocation, not to mention the fact I almost drowned in a flood of tears, too.
    That was the last time I ever called her Mama.
    The train journey was endless. In the beginning I ran up and down, visiting all the carriages, talking with the conductors and the other passengers. I even made a few friends, but most of them got off the train before we even left Poland. It was nighttime when we reached Germany. I was intimidated by this country, by the voices on the loudspeakers in the stations, shouting in this harsh language I couldn’t understand, and their red flags with swastikas hanging everywhere, and all the soldiers in their khaki uniforms. I knew these people were our enemies, the enemies of communists. I looked out the window of my carriage, and I was both fascinated and filled with hatred. All night long, in my berth, I was planning the revolution; I pictured myself walking through a big dusty city and setting fire to all the flags. I was riding a horse at the head of a huge crowd who followed me, shouting, “He’s our leader! He bit the policeman!” Then a young woman who could have been Aunt Karolka wiped my face with a handkerchief.
    â€œJulek, wake up, it’s time to eat.”
    It took me a few seconds to figure out what was happening. Aunt Lena was leaning over me, caressing my hair. I could still hear shouting, but it was the loudspeakers in the station where our train had stopped, spluttering information for the passengers.
    While we were eating, I noticed that Lena was looking at me oddly.
    â€œJulek, my little Julek, I’d like to talk to you. I have something very important to tell you.”
    I was sure she was going to talk to me about the night before. I had the feeling I’d been shouting in my sleep, she must want to warn me about the Germans, maybe she was afraid I might bite one of them.
    â€œYou have to listen very carefully now. And if you’re not sure you understand, if