Last Dance Page #4

with my friends...

...the Israeli tanks came.

It was not the first time.

We were used to tanks

in our village.

We were used to funerals

in our village.

The men on our roof

started firing at the tanks.

Our house...

...and shop

were completely destroyed.

It happened so quickly.

Everything was gone.

My mother...

...my father...

...my baby sister, Lina.

All dead.

She was only five years old.

She used to wear

a small gold crescent.

I keep it with me.

Where will you go?

I don't know.

I have friends in Sydney.

Well, I know about your friends.

No. University friends.

Is that you?

Mmm.

We met before the war.

We married afterwards.

Oh, it was a miracle

we both survived.

I was so young when I met him.

It was 1939,

and I looked at him

and I saw that he had

dirty fingernails

and the heels

were walked off his shoes

and when he talked,

he looked down.

Now, my father had always said,

"Don't bring anybody home

who has dirty hands

"and can't look you in the eye

and has untidy shoes,"

and I thought...

...I thought, well, this is going

to be a very difficult meeting.

He was a nice-looking boy.

And a wonderful dancer.

Oh, we would dance and dance.

We'd put on

my parents' records...

Franz Esling

and the Dance Orchestra.

And we loved the waltz.

And then...

...well, the Nazis came

and they, you know...

...they started

rounding people up.

They separated the men

from the women and the children

and I thought...

...I thought I'd never

see him again.

It was a miracle.

It was a miracle

we both survived.

Yeah.

I saw a little girl.

Five years old, maybe six.

She looked at me.

I couldn't do it.

I could not move.

She was like my sister.

My friend Yusuf walked in,

turned and looked back at me.

He knew

I was not going to do it.

I was hit by flying metal.

I ran away like a dog.

No-one has died by your hand

and God knows that.

The reason why

you could not do it

has nothing to do

with your sister.

It's because of what's in here.

Deep inside you.

And you should not feel ashamed.

There's no honour

in killing people.

This was taken on the boat

the day we left Europe.

Ari was 2.5.

He was running around

trying to pull the labels

off people's luggage.

Oh... what a boy.

And the photographer said,

"You are taking that boy

to the land of his forefathers."

Oh, we were so happy.

And then, when he died,

I had to leave Israel so...

...we came here with Sophie.

You know, I lived in this place

with my husband for many years.

And then one day I came home...

I thought he was sleeping.

He looked so peaceful.

And I took his hand.

And it was cold.

The fingernails

were still dirty.

Be careful.

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