Francine Lazarus

https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/ikQiYkf5Je83mMWguHcqqoXuEHut9MpY0pgiSxaFkEHnQ8nXh-qIyiMo0nXLPIsd6rxit3urvmzkdmL7MraMlSKE6xaMGfnBF354VTN73IHUDDXif7-xjdUsph1e3H32yHpXSTqdmerGeKuQRSHoUQTitle: A Hidden Jewish Child from Belgium: Survival, Scars and Healing
Author: Francine Lazarus
Publisher: Valentine Mitchell
Place of publication: Elstree, UK and Portland, Oregon.
Year of Publication: 2017
Location of Book: Lamm Jewish Library, Sydney Jewish Museum, University of NSW and other public libraries.
Cities/towns/camps: Belgium: Brussels; Australia: Sydney
Note: those cities/towns/camps underlined are those which are most central to the narrative
Genre: Memoir
Key events/experiences: hidden child; false identity

In 1942, when the Nazis launched their campaign of systematic murder against the Jews of Belgium, four-year old Francine Kamerman’s only hope of survival was to hide. Forcibly separated from her family after her father left her in hiding with strangers, this memoir is the remarkable, and heart-rending, account of Francine’s miraculous survival as a vulnerable Jewish child – and of the bitter legacy of trauma.

Pages 1-19 discuss the extended family’s pre-war lives in Europe. Pages 21-66 recount their wartime experiences and Francine’s survival in hiding. Pages 67-102 describe her post-war years in foster care with pages 103-134 detailing Francine’s return to her mother’s care in adolescence. Pages 135 -168 cover the author’s emigration to Australia as well as her first tentative confrontation with her traumatic past, particularly her father’s death. Pages 169-188 are devoted to Francine’s new family in Australia, her resumed education and the eventual reintroduction of her mother into her life. Pages 189-214 offer poignant reflections on trauma and healing with pages 215-242 presenting historical and archival references as well as a timeline of Francine’s life and the Holocaust in Belgium.

Francine Lazarus (née Kamerman) was born in 1938 in Ixelles, Belgium, as the second-child of Israel Kamerman and Masza (Minnie) Imberg, Jewish immigrants from Poland and England respectively. Two years later, the German army invaded and occupied the country. Despite their repeated efforts, the family was unable to escape Nazi-occupied Belgium and in 1942, when the round-up of Jews began in earnest, Francine’s father left his four-year-old daughter in the care of Belgian farmers – who were also members of the Resistance. Her parents and older brother, Charly, hid in the attic of a brothel in Brussels. Isolated and alone in the countryside, Francine was distraught, frightened and confused, though she was safe, warm and fed. After a year of hiding, two of Francine’s rescuers were shot and killed by the Gestapo whilst the terrified five-year-old hid in a haystack.

After the murder of her rescuers, in 1943, Francine was returned to Brussels where she was briefly reunited with her father before being shuttled between safe houses, often hiding in cupboards and small attics. She endured constant fear of discovery as well as illness, malnourishment and, eventually, allied bombings. After several temporary shelters, Francine found some stability in mid-1944 in hiding with the Monsieur Mason, her grandfather’s accountant, and his family in Brussels where her father infrequently visited her. In July 1944, her father was arrested and sent on the last convoy from Belgium to Auschwitz where he was murdered. In September, when Francine was six years old, her brother Charly, then aged thirteen, retrieved her from the Mason’s and the two witnessed the liberation of Brussels together.

Tragically, Francine’s post-war experiences were marked by even further abuse and neglect; unable or unwilling to care for her, Francine’s mother (Minnie) placed her in foster care when Francine was nine-years-old. Again, Francine was shunted from place to place whilst Charly remained at home. In 1948, Minnie remarried and gave birth to Francine’s half-sister, Helen. Francine returned to Minnie’s care only to become a full-time “servant” and Helen’s carer. Charly too was forced to work as the family had little money or food and in 1951, he emigrated to Sydney. At thirteen-years of age, Francine was forced to end her schooling. Like most child survivors, her wartime experiences were shrouded in silence. She suffered bouts of crippling anxiety and agoraphobia (fear of open spaces).

In 1956, when Francine was eighteen, Minnie and her husband, Maurice, organised Francine’s emigration to Australia, as Helen was soon to be enrolled in boarding school. Unbeknownst to Francine, her Aunt Betty, who had emigrated to Sydney in 1947, had applied to be her sponsor. In January 1959, Francine’s visa was granted, and she left for Sydney with her grandmother where she lived with Aunt Betty and eventually reunited with Charly. In Sydney, Francine’s life took a turn for the better. As a French speaker, she worked at a French bank and, later, the Belgium Embassy. In 1963, she married Phillip Lazarus and, together, they built a loving family with three children. In 1969, Minnie, Maurice and Helen emigrated to Sydney.

At the age of forty, Francine resumed her education, completing a BA and, later, a Masters in French literature. With these skills, and a newfound confidence, Francine began researching and writing on her hidden childhood in Belgium and the experiences of hidden children broadly. In 1995, she recorded her testimony for the Shoah Foundation’s Visual History Archive. However, Francine writes, “My gradual release from secrecy and imposed guilt flourished after I became a guide at the Sydney Jewish Museum”. With the help of her brother, and the Sydney Jewish Museum, Francine thus began to confront her traumatic past – and begin the process of healing. Her story has had broad public appeal, with Francine giving many talks to schools and professional symposiums, making it of interest to a commercial publisher.

More than merely a chronicle of Francine’s life, A Hidden Jewish Child in Belgium offers poignant reflections on trauma and memory alongside a painstaking reconstruction of her family’s Holocaust experiences. Integrating personal memory with meticulous historical research (referencing nearly 100 academic sources and dozens of archival documents), this account fills the gap between the intimacy of memoir and scholarly inquiry in its rare and detailed exploration of the experiences of a hidden Jewish child. Through telling her story, Francine Lazarus has sought to challenge the bitter legacy of fear, repression, and enforced silence that have haunted her throughout her life as a child survivor. Though a tale of healing and recovery, this memoir is also a testament to the author’s grief over the loss of her father and her childhood.