When we moved, I started second grade at Björksätrakolan. There, the connection between hell and school began. I had a Christian instructor who played the organ at the start of every school day, and every morning, we were forced to clasp our hands
and sing hymns.
Do you remember how I mentioned the parallel between Inanna's journey and my mother's story, and how I was her fellow traveler? My own descent started in second grade. As a little
girl, I was forced into the dark underworld by alienation. I did not play with the other children because I was a Jewish child. At that time, everyone believed that the Jews had killed Jesus. I belonged to such people, and evil should be displaced with evil.
I had to use my premature female wisdom to harden. SomehowI did harden during my days at Björksätraskolan, but I didn't understand why I had to suffer so.
The other children told on me if I didn't sing or clasp my hands. I found a way to bring
my knuckles together so that it would look as if I was praying from a distance. I didn't want to clasp my hands when I knew I was a Jewish child with other traditions. The children did as the adults told them. It was the parents' responsibility to teach their
children to be kind to all children, but they did nothing to stop this behavior that set deep wounds in my soul.
I had already received wounds from hearing Mom's stories about their traumatic war experiences. My teacher and the children
behaved like they were in Erishigal's kingdom where Inanna is suspended on the hook (1), (2).
It could be seen as the first victim I needed to do. My punishment was that the children would not play with me on the breaks. We often bathed
at home, so it was just plain rudeness to bully me as the kids did. They didn't want to run under my legs when we had such exercises in gym.
The kids in the yard were also special. I was teased for my curly hair. They were incessant with
their teasing. The hairs on my arms and legs were more visible because I was dark-haired, and the children teased me, which made me furious. It was much better when I started at Hillelskolan in the city. Then I let go of the suburbs.
Today I passed
the place where the gymnasium used to be and saw that it was blown away. Maybe there is symbolism in this? I no longer need to bear these memories of violations by eight-year-olds on these premises. It's gone now. What remains is small cement clumps that testify
that there was a building there, nothing more. What happened there between 1965 and 1966 has been removed from the ground in any case.