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RENEE’S STORY
Renee Bornstein, née Koenig, 86, is widowed and lives in Manchester. She has three children, 11 grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren
My childhood ended during the Second World War. When life finally returned to normal in 1945, I had left it behind. I was reunited with my parents – something I had only dreamed of – and I wanted to look forward. When I had my own children all I could think about was keeping them safe and I became quite good at closing off the past. And I did in those early years.
However, when Noemie, my eldest, reached ten years old, it hit me with full force. I looked at this little girl, the picture of absolute innocence, and I thought, ‘I was once like that’. The feelings were overwhelming – grief, pain, despair. But I pushed them back into the furthest corner of my mind. Not that I ever forget. I remember it all.
When our parents decided to send us away to Switzerland, we were first hidden in a Catholic convent in France for two weeks. I was so frightened and I missed my parents desperately. Being separated was agonising. I refused to eat and could barely sleep – I kept close to my brother and sister. It was all so strange to me. We were woken each morning at 6am for prayers and then were told to busy ourselves by picking asparagus in the gardens of the convent.
Meanwhile, there was the constant fear of discovery. I remember peering through a crack in the window and seeing SS men milling in the streets below. For years after the war, whenever I saw a man in uniform it would send shivers down my spine.
Once we started our journey to Switzerland – at first by train – I felt such terror as the SS prowled the carriages. My sister Helen swallowed the Swiss money my parents had given us in case the Nazis found it.
When we were caught on the final stretch of our journey, surrounded by soldiers with barking dogs and guns, it was terrifying. I thought we would die. In my mind I can see
myself as a little girl. Being interrogated daily with my brother and sister at gunpoint in an empty room by Meyer, the Gestapo chief, a man with exceptionally bright blue eyes. I can still see a young boy curled up on a plank who had been beaten. Meyer pointed his gun at us and snarled, ‘If you don’t tell the truth, you will be beaten like him. So tell me, are you Jewish?’ Paralysed by fear, we could only shake our heads.
Every morning, Marianne was taken for questioning, every evening she returned with a red and swollen face. She had the opportunity to reveal our true identities and save her own life, but she never took it. Eventually, she was murdered.
I had no concept of time, though I later learned that after two weeks in prison our freedom was negotiated by the mayor of Annemasse and we were then taken to meet the Red Cross in Geneva. Miraculously, I was reunited with my parents after six months apart – they had survived by going into hiding around St Junien – as the war ended in Europe. Then my life began again.
My life with Ernst was built around family. Our children were our salvation. So when my husband died, I knew we needed to live in a close-knit Jewish community where we would find support. And so I decided we needed to move to Manchester. The community gave us all the welcome we desperately needed.
Not that our new location stopped me from being overprotective. Even when Noemie started high school, for the first two weeks I went to collect her every day. I was so proud when she decided to follow her father into medicine and it was my pleasure to look after my granddaughter as she studied.
I’m especially proud of Noemie’s devotion to Holocaust education. When I said I wanted to go back to thank the mayor, she didn’t hesitate in doing everything she could to make that happen. When she returned to the places I had hidden as a child and the prison where I had been interrogated, I worried what the impact would be. But she needed to go and I recognised that – even though I shuddered inside at the thought of my child in those places.
Afterwards, we cried and hugged – proof that when love is strong enough even the most horrible things from the past will never destroy the future.
Noemie and Renee’s story is featured in My Family, The Holocaust and Me with Robert Rinder and is available on BBC iplayer. holocaustmatters.org
he idea that our health could be intrinsically linked to the universe and the behaviour of the sun and moon might sound far-fetched, until you take a moment to think about how the short winter days have been making you feel. Sluggish? Craving carbs? It’s exactly this sort of disjunction that Jennifer Racioppi, a transformational coach and professional astrologer, tackles in her intriguing new book. Jennifer works with celebrities, corporate leaders and brands including Reebok and Netflix. She believes that we’d all be happier and healthier if, rather than getting up when our phone alarm goes off, we lived our lives based on
Twhen the sun and moon tell us to. It might sound quirky, but this approach to living goes back to basics by asking you to observe what is happening in the world around you. The revolutionary part? Remembering it’s not tech that’s in charge of making you feel better – it’s you. So why not follow her ideas? You could make 2021 your best year yet…
HOW TO WORK WITH NATURE’S CYCLES
The sun rises and sets. The moon waxes and wanes. We live on a planet that rotates on its axis, alternating between day, an extended period of light, and night, a roughly equivalent period of darkness. These are small examples of how the cosmos operates according to nature’s rhythms. But our bodies also act and react cyclically, biologically responding to fluctuations of light and dark. Most cells and tissues in the body run on molecular ‘clocks’ that operate most effectively when they synchronise with the external light-dark cycle they mirror.
For example, the circadian rhythm – the 24-hour cycle that regulates our sleep and waking times – works best when it syncs with the cycle of night and day. It’s responsible for creating the hormone cortisol in the morning, helping us to get out of bed, and for prompting a rise in melatonin at night, making us feel sleepy. It also governs the body’s other hormonal and bodily processes – from hunger and digestion to body temperature and energy levels.
So by living in a way that’s more in tune with the natural cycle of light and dark,
burnout, especially if you’re not careful. So accept the invitations but drink lots of water as well as rosé, and don’t say yes to everything.
From an exercise point of view, get out into nature – swimming in lakes, oceans and pools not only cools you down but nourishes your body’s relaxing energy, too. Not a swimmer? Go for forest or beach walks instead.
Summer-related imbalances include sunburn, hot flushes, exhaustion, acne and digestive issues. Emotionally, excess heat can manifest as anger, jealousy or impatience. To counteract this, stay mindful of what you do at midday – stay out of the sun at its hottest.
Where possible, eat lots of locally grown foods, especially fruit and vegetables. With plenty of opportunities for outdoor activity, fresh air and sunlight (hello, vitamin D!) also help deliver important bacteria that nourish your gut microbiome.
SEEK SELF-CARE IN AUTUMN
Not many 12-year-olds can claim to know a saucepan from a frying pan, let alone cook a three-course dinner that’s not only delicious, but 100 per cent vegan. But then not many 12-year-olds are like Omari Mcqueen. He has a CBBC show What’s Cooking Omari?, a vegan dip brand Dipalicious, a Youtube cooking channel and had his recipes published in Omari Mcqueen’s Best
Bites Cookbook. There was also Omari’s pop-up Caribbean restaurant, which he ran for a week in 2019, with another one planned to open this year. ‘I want to be like Gordon Ramsay – but without the meat and the swearing,’ he says.
Not bad for someone with dyslexia who was told at school that he was an ‘underachiever’. ‘That made me very sad,’ he says. Omari started cooking when he was seven after his father Jermaine, a bus driver, decided to teach him and his elder brother Laquarn to heat up food, then prepare simple meals for their family of eight. ‘My mum was sick and my dad had to go to work,’ explains Omari, from Peckham, Southeast London. ‘So Dad taught us how to make meals such as tuna pasta and spaghetti bolognese.’
Omari’s mum Leah, 33, who is sitting next to him, explains she was suffering from severe migraines. ‘For a while I was unaware