Receiving my German Citizenship 80 years after Mom and her family lost theirs in the Holocaust. Why reconciliation is the way forward.

Growing up, we were warned, “Do not tell anyone that you are Jewish!”

We lived a happy enough life, and I never understood my parents concern. My mom, Hannelore Frank, and her eight family members were deported to the Riga Ghetto in 1941. Mom spent time in other camps in Europe and was the sole survivor of the Frank family; my dad, Vladimir Iyitch Nilvan, escaped  from persecution in Kiev, Russia. He never saw his parents again.

The magnitude of the prejudice, hatred, and cruelty my parents experienced was unthinkable. Their stories were the same. They were the only ones in their families to survive the Holocaust.

Mom spoke about her family being forcibly abducted from their home and sent to the Riga Getto. They were stripped of their citizenship, property, human rights, and freedom. I started to understand why my parents felt the way they did.

Ten years ago, I applied for German Citizenship. I was denied because the law when I was born stated that both parents had to be German. Dad was Russian. The law was changed five months after I was born, but that didn’t apply people born prior to the change.

My own journey wouldn’t have been possible without the support and friendship of some very special people. With the tireless work of Felix and Isabelle Couchman, a change was made so that those of us in that gap period could try again to obtain the right of citizenship that my mother and others lost when they were forced by the Nazis to leave their German homes.

After Mom passed away, I wrote a book sharing her story. I felt compelled to do so because what she endured during the Holocaust should never be forgotten

However, many details were not easily available. A twist of fate occurred that changed my life and allowed me to make Mom’s biography more complete.

I received a surprise phone call from Mechteld Schöneberg in 2009. Mechteld was born in a small town near Mom’s birthplace. Although she wasn’t born until well after the war ended, and was not of the Jewish faith, she became committed to researching what had happened to the 1500 German Jews who lived in the surrounding area. Thanks to her tireless effort, she was able to tell the story the victims could not.

She had been in contact with a relative we did not know existed, a distant cousin named Dan Frank. He lived in Israel, and had started to search for his relatives. As a result he had found Mom in California. Unfortunately by the time they connected, Mom was terminally ill.

Mechtild called me and she shared an astonishing story. When my Grandfather Carl received the news in 1941 that the family would be deported to a camp in Latvia, he asked a neighbor to safeguard some items that held special meaning for the Frank family. There was a small set of plates that he and his wife, Irma, had been given in honor of their wedding. Though it was dangerous to help Jews in such a way, the neighbor agreed to help.

Time passed. The daughter, Frau Maria Strolka, was determined to fulfill the promise to return the plates. However with no internet or contact information, Maria continued to safeguard the plates. Five decades later, she became aware of the work of Mechtild Schöneberg. 

When Mechtild called and explained this to me, I just couldn’t believe the goodness of Frau Strolka and Mechtild, and I was excited to see and hold these things that had been saved for my family for so long. There weren’t that many items that had been returned, as other families assumed the Franks would not be coming back to Germany.

Fruit plates returned after 70 years by Maria Strolka with the help of Mechtild Schöneberg

Not only did Mechteld help Maria Strolka return these to our family, Mechtild packed the box with amazing care and paid for the not inexpensive shipping from Germany to California.

Later, while I was continuing to do research for my book, I decided to travel to Germany to Weseke where Mom was born. I arranged with Mechteld to meet and she graciously showed me around the area and prepared a delicious feast at her beautiful home. She assisted me with much history I did not know, as well as invaluable translation of Nazi documents. She and her husband Werner have become great friends.

She introduced me to a local resident, Joseph Radefeld. Joseph, or Jupp for short, lived down the street from my mother’s home. Although by this point he was some 80 years older, he was five years old at the time the Franks lived in Weseke. He wasn’t Jewish, but he played with Mom’s younger brother and sister. They were all about the same age, five to seven years old and they played a popular game called Stones. After the Nuremberg Race Laws forbid non-Jews associating with Jews, Grandmother told Jupp he could no longer play with Mom’s sister, Marga, and brother, Manifred. Jupp told us that he thought it was his fault, because he was poor and wore wooden shoes. But the real reason was that our Grandmother didn’t want anything bad to happen to Jupp.

Friends Werner, Mechtild, Jupp and Carolyn in Weseke

I never knew my German relatives; Jupp is the only person I have met who knew my Aunt, Uncle, and Grandparents, and Great Aunts.

Jupp had not forgotten this, not even after eight decades had passed. He said, “I’ve waited 80 years to tell Hannalore’s  daughters what I heard and saw.” It was such a poignant moment.

In sharing these stories of the special connection we have had with Felix and Isabelle, Mechteld, Frau Strolka, and Jupp, it puts the importance of reconciliation in proper perspective. Stories like these must be shared, because hatred and prejudice still exist. Educating others, as well as refraining from blaming people who had nothing to do with what happened, is the way forward.

Carolyn Duclos
Author - ‘A Suitcase Full of Cookies’