The name Terezin kept echoing in Ishioka’s mind. She knew it was the only place that might reveal the mystery of Hanna Brady’s suitcase. She decided to visit in person. However, the Czech Republic was far away, and she needed more travel funds. In July, an opportunity finally arose. She was invited to a conference in the UK. From there, the Czech Republic was not so far.
On July 11, 2000, Ishioka finally arrived in Terezin. However, she had to return to Prague that night to catch a flight back to Japan the following day. Her time was limited. Unfortunately, she had neglected to make an appointment with the museum beforehand. When she arrived, she found it closed due to a local holiday.
Deeply disappointed, Ishioka sat in the museum’s lobby, unsure what to do. Suddenly, she heard a sound from a distant office. Following the sound, she found a woman named Ludmila, who had stayed behind in the office instead of going home for the holiday. Touched by the determination of the Japanese woman who had come so far, Ludmila wanted to help Ishioka find clues about Hanna Brady.
She searched through an index of 90,000 Jews who had been imprisoned there and later transferred eastward, finding Hanna Brady’s name and birth date. Ishioka carefully examined the list and noticed another Brady above Hanna’s name: George Brady. Could he be a relative? Ludmila thought it was possible. He was only three years older than Hanna, likely her brother. Nazi lists often grouped families.
Did little Hanna Brady have a brother?
Ishioka also noticed that most names on the list had a checkmark next to them. She asked what the checkmark meant. Ludmila hesitated before explaining that those with a checkmark had not survived. Ishioka looked at Hanna Brady’s name and saw a checkmark, indicating that, like most of the 15,000 children imprisoned in Terezin, she had not survived Auschwitz. Although this wasn’t surprising to Ishioka, confirming Hanna Brady’s death was still very sad. She composed herself and continued examining the list. She then noticed that George Brady’s name did not have a checkmark.
Hanna Brady might have had a brother, and he might still be alive! Ishioka pleaded with Ludmila to find more information about George. However, Ludmila, having experienced many disappointments in her work, was not so optimistic. She was correct; 55 years had passed since the war ended. George might have changed his name, moved far away, or even passed away.
Nevertheless, Ludmila did her best to help. She pulled out another Nazi list, showing the sleeping arrangements in the house where George had been imprisoned in Terezin. Due to overcrowding, two people shared one mat. Ludmila told Ishioka that she knew the person who had shared a mat with George, Kurt Kotouc, who was still alive and living in Prague.
Rushing back to the Prague Museum
Time was running out. Ishioka had to return to the Jewish Museum in Prague to inquire about Kurt Kotouc. She arrived just before closing time. She found a woman named Michaela Hajek, who had helped a lot while searching for Hanna Brady’s drawings. This time, luck was on her side. When Ishioka mentioned Kurt Kotouc’s name, Michaela said: “I know him. I’ll help you find him.” She made a series of phone calls and finally reached Kotouc’s secretary.
Today, Kurt Kotouc is an art historian. He was about to catch a flight that night, and his secretary said he had no time to take a call. But Michaela insisted, and Kotouc, carrying his luggage, rushed to the museum lit by only one lamp. “Of course, I haven’t forgotten my fellow prisoners,” he said. “And we are still friends. George Brady lives in Toronto, Canada.”
Hanna’s brother in Toronto
In August 2000, 72-year-old George Brady received a letter from Japan. He opened it, “Dear Mr. Brady, … Please forgive me if my letter brings you pain by recalling your difficult past experiences…” He felt dizzy. He pulled several photographs from the envelope, including Hanna Brady’s drawings and a picture of her suitcase.
A month later, Ishioka received a long-awaited reply from Toronto. She opened the envelope in her office, unable to contain her excitement. Everyone gathered to see what had happened. Ishioka murmured: “What a beautiful girl,” holding a photo of Hanna Brady. She began to cry — she had finally brought Hanna, a real Czech girl, back to life.
The true story of a Jewish girl
In the 1930s, Hanna Brady’s family lived in a beautiful town called Nove Mesto in central Czechoslovakia. Hanna and her brother were the only Jewish children in town. They attended school with other children, had many friends, and were very happy. Their parents loved art and ran a small shop to make a living. They were busy, but tried to spend as much time as possible with their children. It was a warm home.
In 1938, when Hanna Brady was seven, the atmosphere around them became uneasy. Her parents listened to bad news from Germany on the radio at night. The newly risen Nazis were persecuting Jews. Then, as Germany partially invaded Czechoslovakia, the bad news about the persecution of Jews came closer. On March 15, 1939, German troops occupied all of Czechoslovakia. Hanna Brady’s family’s life was changed forever.
Like all Jews, Hanna Brady’s family had to declare all their property. Later, they were banned from entering cinemas, sports, or entertainment venues. Hanna and her brother lost all their friends. In 1941, when Hanna was about to start third grade, Jewish children were banned from attending school. Hanna was heartbroken: “I will never become a teacher,” her greatest dream.
Hanna Brady’s parents tried to comfort the children, but they knew the situation was much worse. In March, the Gestapo ordered Hanna’s mother to report, and she never returned. On Hanna’s birthday, her mother sent a unique birthday gift from her place of detention: a heart-shaped necklace made from saved bread.
Their father took care of them alone. One day, he brought home several yellow Star of David badges and had to tell his children that they must wear this humiliating mark whenever they went out. Hanna Brady and her brother were even more reluctant to leave the house. But home was not safe either. In the fall, there was a violent knock on the door, and the Nazis took their father away. Hanna, then 10, and George, 13, were left behind. They were taken in by a kind uncle, who was not Jewish, but it was dangerous to shelter Jewish children. He provided them with the last bit of family warmth.
In May 1942, 11-year-old Hanna and 14-year-old George received a Nazi notice ordering them to report. They were then sent to the Theresienstadt Ghetto.
Before leaving, Hanna dragged a brown suitcase from under the bed — the suitcase that started this story. Hanna and her brother carried their suitcases, took a train, and walked several kilometers from the train station to the Theresienstadt Ghetto. At the entrance, Nazi soldiers wrote Hanna Brady’s name and birth date on the suitcase lid. Since she had no parents with her, they coldly added the note: “Orphan.”
Hanna Brady was forced to live separately from her brother in Theresienstadt, but they still found ways to meet. During their three years in the ghetto, Hanna and her brother saw their elderly grandmother, brought from Prague, quickly die under harsh conditions. In the fall of 1944, as Nazi Germany neared collapse, they accelerated the transfer of Jews from the ghetto to death camps. George was sent away first.
Thirteen-year-old Hanna Brady suddenly lost her brother, and the suitcase became her last link to her family. Finally, Hanna received her transfer notice. She packed, with only the suitcase containing a few clothes, her favorite drawing, and a storybook from a friend in the ghetto. She had nothing left but a glimmer of hope: Maybe she could catch up with her brother George and reunite with her parents. With these thoughts, she picked up her suitcase.
On the night of October 23, 1944, Hanna Brady and many Jews stumbled off a train onto a platform amid terrifying shouts. Under the harsh glare of searchlights, they could barely open their eyes. Hanna and some girls were immediately taken away, and armed soldiers ordered them to leave their suitcases on the platform. Terrified, Hanna let go. Her suitcase fell onto the hard, cold platform.
That night, they were taken directly from the train platform to the gas chambers. Hanna didn’t even have time to know that she had caught up with her beloved brother, George, who was imprisoned there. She had also found her parents, Karel and Marketa, who had been killed there in 1942. This was Poland, and this was Auschwitz.
Hanna Brady’s brother visits Tokyo
In March 2001, in Tokyo, Ishioka and her children finally welcomed Hanna Brady’s brother, George Brady, who brought his daughter, 17-year-old Lara Hanna. More than half a century later, he saw his sister Hanna’s remarkable relic in Japan: the suitcase. He bowed his head and cried. But a few minutes later, he regained his composure. He felt that his sister Hanna’s wish had finally come true. She had finally become a teacher, educating so many children.
As a Holocaust survivor, George’s post-war experiences also conveyed a message to today’s Japanese children. He told them he had traveled to many places over the years, always carrying his most precious family album, preserved by his aunt and uncle. In 1951, he immigrated to Canada and built a happy family. He successfully rebuilt his life. He told everyone that what he was most proud of was that despite everything he had experienced, he could move his life forward.
George told the Japanese children that the most important values he gained from his suffering were tolerance, respect, and compassion. He believed this was also what Hanna Brady wanted to convey. We can all learn from transforming extremely harmful lessons into positive life values.
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