The Tombstone

By Hans Cohn

Arriving in Shanghai was most impressive, as our ship, the Conte Biancamano, laid anchor in the International Settlement, along the Bund, the most famous Avenue of Shanghai, often called the "European Wall Street." It was situated on the shores of the Wang Poo River, near the Yangtze, which enters into the China Sea. The harbor was interspersed with junks and their high pole masts, fishing boats and water rickshaws forming a lively silhouette along the imposing waterfront. The spring air was filled with a fishy smell, commingling with the smoke emanating from the chimneys of the many ships to be unloaded. My parents and I, and hundreds of other refugees disembarked, were processed on the dock, loaded on open trucks and driven to Hongkew, the poorest district of Shanghai.

The Sino-Japanese War broke out in l937. Within two years, the Japanese army occupied Manchuria and the greater part of Northern China to the outskirts of Shanghai, including Hongkew. After fierce fighting, the Chinese army was defeated. In 1939, the year of our arrival, the Sino-Japanese War came to an end. The International Settlement was unscathed, while Hongkew lay in rubble.Bombed out buildings resembled the ancient ruins of Athens. A number ofhouses still survived the onslaught to be used as dormitories (heime) for theincoming refugees. Those who could afford to move to the International Settlement or the French Concession settled to a comfortable life. The majority however was housed under deplorable conditions.

My mother died three months after our arrival. I was thirteen years old at that time. Low in finances, we arranged for a modest funeral. She was laid to rest in the Russian Jewish cemetery on Baikal Road with a graveside service, attended by my father, myself, and a few friends. A little marker, stuck in the ground with the inscription "Ida Cohn, nee Graupner, 1886-1939" was placed on her freshly dug grave. It was a tradition to put up a tombstone a year after burial, intended to show that the deceased had not been forgotten. We were too poor to erect a fitting monument for my mother at that time. Often, I would go to the cemetery to visit the grave, utter a brief prayer in her memory, and shed a few tears. Standing by myself in a garden echoing the past, surrounded by the many carved stones in honor of those whom death had taken, I glanced at the tiny marker that bore my mother's name. An idea came to my mind.

I would go to search among the Hongkew ruins, in the hope to find a rock that could be transformed into a monument at little cost. The area had no shortage of bombed out houses. As luck would have it, I came across a suitable rock to meet my needs. With the help of a hand wagon I borrowed and, perspiring in the summer heat, I lugged my newfound treasure to a Chinese stonemason. The good man agreed for a small amount of money to carve the stone, engrave it with my mother's name and mount it on the grave. It stood there timidly as a sign of comfort, to celebrate her life amidst the more impressive monuments in the cemetery.

At the end of World War II, in 1945, the majority of stateless Jewish refugees left for greener pastures, primarily to America, Australia and Israel, then-called Palestine. I managed to stow away to Australia in l946. By 1958, only a small number remained in Shanghai. When the Chinese Communists took over the whole city, they ordered the small Jewish community to remove the four Jewish cemeteries. The graves were to be relocated outside the city limits. Over 1300 graves were removed and I felt sure my mother's remains were among them. No more Jewish cemeteries exist today. I am told, a few relics can still be found in the outskirts of Shanghai.

After 56 years, I am now on my way to China to retrace my footsteps, hopefully trying to find the tombstone that has weathered many storms since it was salvaged out of the Hongkew rubble. I still remember the day my mother died, the place where she was buried, the prayer I said in her memory. The day has gone into oblivion, the place has vanished, but I can still recite the prayer. That has to be sufficient. Her memory is enshrined in my heart; it will always be with me.