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Meet Traute Klein, biogardener.

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Postscript

The Cartys are not the only Winnipeg family who are being protected by their church. They are, however, the only family whom I know personally and whose story I know well. The congregation of this same church opened their hearts to my family when we arrived in Canada as displaced persons (DPs) 47 years ago.

Fresh Air for Elizabeth

by Traute Klein, biogardener

A Winnipeg church has given refuge to a family whom Canada Immigration is determined to tear apart. So far, bureaucracy has not invaded the sanctuary of this place. In these most adverse circumstances, living without fresh air and sunshine, a little girl discovers her gift for music.

Canada, a Place of Refuge

The first time I saw Elizabeth, she was full of mischief, horsing around with a friend while all the grown-ups were huddled around her family, praying for their safety. She appeared to be oblivious to the danger which was threatening to tear her family apart. Living in the sanctuary of the church basement and not having to go to school appeared to be a novelty at the time. Now, a month later, the gravity of the situation seems to have dawned on Elizabeth's seven-year-old mind.

On Canada's 132nd birthday, July 1, 1999, Mission Baptist Church celebrated the 50th anniversary of her founding. In the fiftieth year, the year of jubilee, the prisoners are set free according to the law instituted in the book of Joshua. In her 50th year, this church has given sanctuary to a family which Canadian bureaucracy is determined to destroy.

A child needs fresh air and sunshine. In the last month, Elizabeth has only had brief glances of these through an opening church door. Being away from school is no longer fun for her, especially when she is confined to one single building. Even criminals in the penitentiary are allowed fresh air and sunshine. Elizabeth is no criminal. She is a little girl, born in Miami, Florida, to parents who were seeking refuge from certain imprisonment and probable death. Canada had promised to give this family the refuge which the United States was reluctant to grant. That promise seems to have been forgotten.

Memories of 1945

Bombers could be heard overhead every night and even in the daytime. No one paid attention to the warning sirens any more. They seemed to be going off all the time. A nine-year-old cannot sit in a bomb shelter day after day, night after night. I needed fresh air. I needed to roam through the fields. We had just arrived in the city of Danzig. There were so many new places to explore. And this bomb shelter seemed to be getting smaller by the hour.

The moment the door opened, I was gone. My mother did not stop me. I explored the nearby field and collected pieces of shrapnel, except that I had no idea what these curiously formed metal objects were. They looked fascinating, each one having a different shape. Their jagged edges could have cut my fingers. I was careful.

A little plane swooped overhead and shot at me. I had never seen a plane close enough to see the pilot's face. He was not a good marksman. He missed me. He circled and tried again. He still missed me.

I took my shrapnel treasures back to the bomb shelter. No one was interested in admiring them. I did not mention the spitfire pilot's target practice. It would not have been wise, considering that I wanted to get some more fresh air the following day.

No Fresh Air for Elizabeth

Elizabeth does not get fresh air. There is no spitfire pilot waiting to shoot at her, but there is a van stationed outside the church hour after hour, and there may well be someone in it who is waiting to grab her to force her parents to come out of their safe space. So Elizabeth stays in the church. She hangs her head and does not look at people. She does not even have a field full of shrapnel to explore.

Oh yes, she did smile once yesterday. I walked up behind her and stroked her beautiful brown hair. She turned around and smiled at me for just a fleeting moment.

I pray that Elizabeth will soon be able to run and jump outside and learn to smile again for longer than just a moment.

Adversity and Talents

July 7, 1999: Today, the day after I wrote the above story, I visited with the Cartys to bring them some fresh spinach from my garden. Elizabeth's dad encouraged her to show me something on the piano. She played the beginning of Beethoven's "Für Elise" for me. In the proper key! In her childlike exuberance, she repeated the first two notes a few extra times. I remember playing that piece at a recital when I was taking grade VI piano lessons. No one had helped Elizabeth to learn it. She must have heard some other child playing the piece on the piano in church and figured out the tune to pass the time in all those lonely hours in the church.

I sat down on the piano bench beside her and while she played all the songs she had taught herself, I provided the accompaniment to them. I asked her about other songs she knew. When she was not sure how to get started on one, I simply showed her the first key and away she went. She was so happy to have so much fun, and I was amazed at her talent. I have taught music to some very bright children, but this one appears to have a special gift for music. She needs more than fresh air and sunshine. She needs an opportunity to develop her God-given talent.

July 14: For my visit with the Cartys today, I took with me a beginner's piano course, and Elizabeth got her first piano lesson. A brighter and keener pupil I have never taught. What a pleasure! She gave me a picture which she had drawn with felt markers. It shows her dreaming of Mexico, complete with coconuts on palm trees, mangos on the ground, and a smiling, high-heeled Elizabeth.