Hana's Suitcase (10 page)

Fumiko took George’s arm. “Come with us, now, and see your sister’s suitcase.” They walked to the display area.

And there, surrounded by the children, with Fumiko holding one of his hands and his daughter, Lara, holding the other, George saw the suitcase.

Suddenly, an almost unbearable sadness came over him. Here was the suitcase. There was her name written right on it. Hana Brady. His beautiful, strong, mischievous, generous, fun-loving sister. She had died so young and in such a terrible way. George lowered his head and let the tears flow freely.

But, a few minutes later, when he looked up, he saw his daughter. He saw Fumiko, who had worked so hard to find him and the story of Hana. And he saw the expectant faces of all those Japanese children for whom Hana had become so important, so alive.

George realized that, in the end, one of Hana’s wishes
had
come true. Hana had become a teacher. Because of her — her suitcase and her story — thousands of Japanese children were learning about what George believed to be the most important values in the world: tolerance, respect, and compassion. What a gift Fumiko and the children have given me, he thought. And what honor they have given Hana.

Fumiko asked the children to sit in a circle. She beamed with pride as, one by one, they presented George with their drawings and poems about Hana. When they had finished, Maiko stood up, took a deep breath, and read a poem aloud.

Hana Brady, thirteen years old, was the owner of this suitcase.

Fifty-five years ago, May 18, 1942 — two days after Hana’s eleventh birthday — she was taken to Terezin in Czechoslovakia.

October 23, 1944, crowded into the freight train, she was sent to Auschwitz.

She was taken to the gas chamber right after.

People were allowed to take only one suitcase with them.

I wonder what Hana put in her suitcase.

Hana would have been sixty-nine years old today, but her life stopped when she was thirteen.

I wonder what kind of girl she was.

A few drawings she made at Terezin — these are the only things she left for us.

What do these drawings tell us?

Happy memories of her family?

Dreams and hopes for the future?

Why was she killed?

There was one reason.

She was born Jewish.

Name: Hana Brady. Date of Birth: May 16, 1931. Orphan.

We, Small Wings, will tell every child in Japan what happened to Hana.

We, Small Wings, will never forget what happened to one-and-a-half-million Jewish children.

We children can make a difference in building peace in the world — so that the Holocaust will never happen again.

By Small Wings, December 2000, Tokyo, Japan.
Translated from Japanese by Fumiko Ishioka.

Afterword

The story of
Hana’s Suitcase
continues to hold surprises for us. On a trip to Poland in March 2004, George and Fumiko learned that Hana’s original suitcase was destroyed, along with many other objects from the Holocaust, in a suspicious fire in Birmingham, England in 1984.

The museum at Auschwitz created a replica — or copy — of the suitcase from a photograph. It was that replica which Fumiko and the Small Wings received in Tokyo. As a matter of policy Auschwitz tells borrowers when an object on loan is not the original. This time a mistake was made. George and Fumiko did not know that the suitcase was a replica until the recent trip to Poland.

On reflection, everyone involved is grateful that the curators at Auschwitz went to the trouble of creating a faithful replica of the suitcase. Without it, Fumiko would never have searched for Hana. She would never have found George. And we would never have the story of
Hana’s Suitcase
.

Hana’s Suitcase
is now being read around the world by hundreds of thousands of children, in more than twenty languages. Fumiko, George and the suitcase continue to travel, sharing Hana’s story, the lessons of history and a message of tolerance.

FIRST AND FOREMOST
, my thanks go to George Brady and Fumiko Ishioka. This is their story. Each of them, with remarkable dedication and generosity, helped to bring the book together. They are very tenacious and compassionate people, driven by the desire to make the world a better place, and to bring attention and honor to the memory of Hana Brady. I salute them.

My heart jumped the first time I learned of Hana’s suitcase in an article by Paul Lungen in the
Canadian Jewish News
. The story so touched me that I decided to come out of “exile” and produce my first radio documentary in a dozen years. The result was “Hana’s Suitcase,” which aired on
The Sunday Edition
on CBC Radio One in January 2001.

The first phone call I received after the broadcast came from a tearful Margie Wolfe, who said right then and there that I had to write this book. Margie is one of my favorite people in the whole world — a fiercely loyal friend, and a hilarious, kooky, exuberantly talented woman whom I can now refer to as “my publisher” with feigned nonchalance.

Along with Margie, Sarah Swartz brought a clear and gentle touch to the editorial process. Jeffrey Canton, as well as the women of Second Story Press, Carolyn Foster and Laura McCurdy, also made important contributions. Reynold Gonsalves knows that without his patience and skill in the radio studio and on the computer, my life would be much more complicated than it already is. Thank you also to Carmelita Tenerife for her sustaining care and Teresa Brady for her kindness.

My sensational circle of women friends were morale boosters, babysitters, and all-round hand holders in this writing project: Susanne Boyce, Cate Cochran, Joy Crysdale, Brooke Forbes, Francine Pelletier, Geraldine Sherman and Talin Vartanian. I want to give special thanks to 9-year-old Madeline Cochran for being an early reader of the manuscript. Her (and her mother’s) suggestions were great!

No daughter could ask for more support and cheerleading from her parents. My mother, Helen, and my father, Gil, taught me (among many other things) to celebrate human struggle, to know the past and to fight for a better future. And they gave me the best big sister, Ruthie Tamara, who has encouraged me in every way.

Michael Enright — my beau and co-vivant — thought I could write a book long before I did, and never missed an opportunity to tell me so. His confidence in me, and his unvarnished enthusiasm about this project, terrified and thrilled me at the same time. At every step, he gave me the nourishment I wanted, the prodding I needed and the room to work. I am truly grateful for it all. I am also grateful for the true-heartedness of the Enright brood — Daniel, Anthony and Nancy.

My son — Gabriel Zev Enright Levine — is six years old now, too young to know Hana’s story. But when he is old enough, I’ll read it to him. I hope he will be as drawn to Hana, George and Fumiko as I was. I also hope he will learn from the story that history matters, and that despite the most unspeakable evil, good people and good deeds can make a difference.