The forgotten doll’s story 

My name is Amira. The name was given to me by Estrea, a little Jewish girl who was living in Thessaloniki with her family. She was a very happy little girl. 

 In 1943 the Germans deported my family to Poland and then to the concentration camp, in Auschwitz.

Estrea was always holding me tightly in her arms and promised me many times that we will  return safely home. 

The  Auschwitz was a horrible place. Estrea was miserable and often cried. I was her only friend. 

One gloomy day the soldiers took her to a room and asked her to take a bath together with other girls. Estrea told me that I had to wait for her outside and she put me gently inside her dress. 

The next day a soldier collected all the shoes and clothes, as well as myself and threw us into a trash bin. 

The soldier was a young man and looked really sad when he got a glimpse of my tearful eyes. He rescued me and took me to his room. 

One day he received a letter from Germany. His daughter died. He gently took me into his hands and let his tears fall on my dusty dress. He cried a lot! 

It was then when he saw the little embroidery at the back of  my shoulder: 

“Amira, Estrea’s 10th birthday, present from dad, Valaoritou street, No.11, Thessaloniki 1940”. 

 Soon afterwards he packed his things and left Auschwitz.

 He took me with him, carefully wrapped in a brown paper. I was not sure what will happen to me. 

It was early morning when we reached Valaoritou street. He knocked on the door of the house. 

No one answered. It was deserted. 

He went round asking information for the family of a little girl called Estrea. Nothing! 

He was desperate. He could not take me to Germany, he said, holding me very gently. 

He went to the park and sat a the bench wondering what he would do. 

After a while a little girl sat next to him crying. He asked her why and the girl told him that she lost her doll. 

The young German soldier gave me to her and left. The only thing he asked was the name of the girl.

Moira, she shouted, while she was happily running away from him! 

I am still alive and happy. I am now the best friend of Moira’s granddaughter. 

We live in Thessaloniki very close to Amira’s house! 

This is an original story told from the lips of my grandmother.