Yvonne Salomon: A Despedida.

In this final excerpt, Yvonne Salomon remembers the beginning and end of her years in Salvador.
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(Let’s go back a little bit, and tell me about the Jewish community when you arrived. Were they welcoming to you?)

Oh, you mean, in San Salvador

(When you arrived for the first time?)

Yes. They made a very nice reception, congratulating us, the whole community. There was a dinner dance at the Club Deportivo. That was very nice, yes. We made the same thing for everybody who arrived afterwards.

(And did you find you had a lot in common with the other women?)

There were almost no women my age. There were no women my age. None of all these young men who were there were married.

(So you were one of the first women who arrived?)

In this generation, yes. I knew Lucie Frenkel, Evelyn’s mother, and the boss’s wife, of course. I met several of Evelyn’s school friends, and now the daughter of one of them lives here and is friends with Andrée. (laughs)

Another one with whom I was friends is Alice Liebes. She was so different from your grandmother, completely a different kind, but the three of us, we spoke German. Your grandmother spoke French, but Alice didn’t, so I learned German over there. (laughs)

(Amazing. So you spoke German with certain people and you spoke French with your husband?)

Yes, I always spoke French at home.

(And what about with your children?)

I always spoke French to them. The three of them speak it fluently. They have maybe a little accent, but they speak it fluently, all three of them.

(And when did you learn Spanish?)

In San Salvador. Trial by fire…. (laughs)

(So you learned Spanish as you went along?)

Yes. I had some Spanish lessons in Sarreguemines before I left. I asked wherever I could: is there somebody who would teach me Spanish? And finally they recommended me a young man, and he came and gave me a few lessons, and I found out that he didn’t know Spanish either. He had to use a dictionary all the time. Whatever he told me was wrong.

(So you lived in Salvador and you raised your children in Salvador?)

Yes.

(How was that, raising your children in Salvador?)

Well, Andrée always spoke French. She answered me in French, not always, but most of the time. And she went first to the French kindergarten, when she was five, I believe. This is maybe why she’s fluent now. Hélène and Roby never answered. I spoke always French with them, but they always answered in Spanish.

(And they went to the American school, all of them?)

Yes. Afterwards, when the American school started, Andrée started one year, I believe at the same school Evelyn was. I believe she was there for one year. I have to ask her. I don’t remember. It was nothing much. But then, when the American school started, Andrée went directly to first grade. Hélène went to kindergarten.

(And did you enjoy your life?)

(pause) Whenever I was homesick, I tried to convince myself that I’m lucky to be out, away from all that. Well, it was difficult in the beginning, very difficult. The habits, the food, the fashion, what is done, what is not done, speaking to people—it was difficult, very difficult.

(Did it ever get easier?)

Oh, yes, yes, afterwards, yes. When I started being more fluent in Spanish, yes. I forced myself to read Spanish, a little bit, not much. I was often homesick.

(Did you think you would always live in El Salvador?)

Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t think so far. Afterwards—sometimes when we were in France, later, when the children were all away at school, we went more often to France, Georges and I, and we rented an apartment on the Riviera and we stayed there. That was very, very nice. But, when you are not in your home, I—for example, I like being for vacation somewhere else, but then I’m looking forward to go home.

(So Salvador was your home?)

Yes. Yes. At that time.

(Did you ever become a Salvadoran citizen?)

No. No.

(You were always a French citizen?)

Yes. French. I’m not changing.

(So even after the war, how did you feel about France? You felt—?)

Liberated.

(You felt proud to be French?)

And how! And how! Georges became Salvadoran. I didn’t.

(So you felt like you had France still, you hadn’t lost your country, that France was still your country?)

Yes, absolutely, yes. Georges, I’m sure he had planned to remain in Salvador, traveling, because he loved travel. We traveled very often. But then there was a time when suddenly there were menacing letters sent out to people. Many other people had left, and then Georges got one, too. And he said, “Out. Now we go.” We went to Miami. That was in ’78 we left, ’76? No, no, no. Yes, I believe it was ’76 or ’78. I don’t remember exactly. We went to France in the spring and rented an apartment there. Then we went back.
We went to the Riviera, in Beaulieu. We liked the place there. It was very quiet and nice.

(Did you want to come back to Salvador, or you couldn’t?)

Oh, yes, we could, we could. Georges——was Salvadoran.

(But were you afraid to go back?)

To Salvador? Oh, no, no, we went back to Miami. We didn’t come back to Salvador. Georges went back to Salvador—I went back first maybe a few months after we were there, because Georges said, “It’s so ridiculous. We have all the furniture there and nobody takes advantage of it. Let’s bring it over.” Hélène and Roby were still there. They didn’t want to leave. We had asked them to leave, but they didn’t. Then I went down to Salvador. One Sunday we were having lunch at Roby’s theater in Salvador. He had arranged a theater in an old house. Suddenly there was somebody at the door, a military man, together with somebody from the Salvador Guards, saying, “We want to visit the house. You’re hiding pistoleros.” I said, “There is no pistolero in this house, but if you want to come in, come in.” So they came in. There were two trucks in front of the house, and about fifteen soldiers. “Everybody against the wall.” Roby had invited a group, we were about fourteen, fifteen people having lunch there. They took us out, two at a time always, and put us against the wall with the hands out. Boris Gabay was next to me, and he said, “Don’t look in front of your left leg.” Of course I looked. It was a bullet.

Roby told them, “I’m going to let you visit every corner of this house. I’ll open it. You enter. You look around. This lady’s going to lock it again.” Roby didn’t want anybody to be hiding there. Then finally they told us, “OK, you can go,” after standing two hours with our hands against the wall.

I called Georges when they arrived. His phone did not answer. Then I called Henri Weill, his partner. He thought I was joking. “Yeah, sure, sure. Yeah, sure, there are soldiers there.”

Transcript by Sandy Adler, Adler Enterprises LLC.