In the night, I sneak out, hoping no one spots my bony figure. I dash towards the sewer I found and pry up the lid.123 The reek of sewage water and rotting waste clogs my nose, but I jump in anyway. I slide the lid back over me, plunging the sewer into complete darkness. Filthy water splashes up to my knees. I have to stoop over so the rusting ceiling doesn't grate against my head. The stench is so horrible I almost climb back out. I trudge in the direction I think is nearest the walls. Feeling my way along the slimy walls of the pipe, I search for a way out as I walk. A sewer rat brushes by my leg, and I shudder.
My fingers brush against a different texture of metal. Could it be? I push at that spot, and hear the squeal of metal grating against metal. A circular disk is now obvious on the ceiling, pulled farther away than the walls. I shove against it the best I can, and I see the dark glow of streetlights seeping in from around the cover. I get underneath it and shove up. The lid slides off, moaning as it grinds against the cobblestones. I hoist myself up out of the sewer, breathing in the fresh night air. I let out a small sigh of relief. I pull the lid back over the hole as quietly as I can, freezing every time it squeaks.
It feels so good to walk down a street not littered with bodies so thickly. I quickly search the garbage cans nearest the sewer. I find a few crusts of moldy bread, and two soggy pirogies, noodles filled with mashed potato, with the potatoes leaking out of them. I'm disappointed in my small find, but I rush back to the sewer, deciding that my time here is running short. I heave the lid up and slip in, splashing the filthy water on me again. I slosh through the water once I slide the lid back, clutching the food in one hand and feeling the ceiling with the other.
I stumble over a furry lump. Muffling my shriek, I regain my balance as the rat scurries away. I wander forward, and feel a familiar circle design on the ceiling. I push it up and stare at the pitch blackness. I peer out the tiny crack and don't see anyone, so I heave myself out. When the lid slides creakily back over the sewage hole, I quickly glance around, hoping no one heard my return.
The streets look haunting and the shacks suspicious. All are spying on me and my food. I clutch the soggy crusts and pirogies, and hurry back to our shack. I sneak in and sit on my straw bedroll. I hide the food underneath the straw, and fall asleep, dreaming of rats and sewers.
1 People smuggled food, quite illegally, into the ghetto and sold it in the black market or kept it for themselves and their family. Some soldiers could be bribed to let people with food in, but some would shoot any person trying to get in. Smugglers would use cellars, pipes, and streetcars to get food in (Stewart 55-59)
2Since all the food people in the ghetto received were scraps, they were forced to smuggle it in from the outside. Most of the smugglers were between the ages of 7-14, but some were as young as 5 (Stewart 60-61).
3Able-bodied teens, adults, and children smuggled in food and weapons (Anflick 21)
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