A real family

Haneke and Fiet had to fake being sisters to escape the horrors of the Holocaust – but it wasn’t expected they’d be life long friends.

By BARRY DAVIS
Fiet and Haneke pose with the actresses portraying them in the play. (photo credit: ELITZUR REUVENI)
Fiet and Haneke pose with the actresses portraying them in the play.
(photo credit: ELITZUR REUVENI)
Once upon a time, there was a young Dutch girl who always wanted a little sister. One day, that dream came true, and they eventually lived happily ever after.
Sounds simple enough, and the stuff of a classic Hollywood take on life. In truth, however, the circumstances surrounding what was to become an enduring friendship between the two protagonists, Haneke and Fiet, were tragic in the extreme.
Haneke and Fiet is a Holocaust story, albeit with a happy ending.
Last weekend, the Mediatheque Theater for Children and Youth in Holon hosted two performances of this play by Lior Garti, which is based on the book of the same name by Ran Cohen Harounoff.
The latter is the 47-year-old son of Haneke Cohen Harounoff, the younger of the two heroines of the real-life story.
Both the book and the play are set in Amsterdam during World War II. The Nazis had already invaded the Netherlands, endan - gering the lives of Haneke and her parents. It was deemed risky for the three of them to stay together, and when the parents found refuge at a farm in the Dutch countryside, then-three-year-old Haneke was taken to a series of hideaways by her Aunt Marie – who was, in fact, a friend of the family and not a blood relative.
At some of these hideaways, she spent only a few days before the danger of discovery reared its ugly head and she had to be scurried away to a new safe haven in the dead of night.
Eventually Haneke ended up at the home of Wigle and Sophie Primowess. That, too, was meant to be a temporary hideout, but Haneke ended up staying there until the Nazis were finally driven out of the Netherlands.
Not only did the two girls become friends for life – staying in touch regularly over the years, even after Haneke made aliya in 1964 – the Primowesses and Cohen Harounoffs have become an extended family of sorts.
That was evident as we all gathered around a table at the Mediatheque building café last week – “we” including the two childhood pals; Haneke’s husband and her writer son; Fiet’s brother Hans, who was born after World War II, and his wife Rose; and Fiet’s daughter Jeannine.
“For me, to get a little sister when I was six years old was wonderful,” said Fiet.
“It was the most beautiful age to get a sister,” Haneke agreed.
One might assume it was tough for the three-year-old to keep getting shifted around, but Haneke said she had no painful memories of the moves: “I only remember good things from that time.”
“She came to us, and it was for one night,” noted Fiet, “but it became three years. That was a long night,” she added with a laugh.
During that “long night,” the two girls established a lifelong bond. But there were also some hairy moments.
On one occasion, the youngsters were playing outside in the street when a woman came up and spoke to them. Fiet immediately feared danger and hurried Haneke back inside the house. It later transpired, however, that the stranger was none other than Haneke’s grandmother, who had found refuge in an - other house on the same street.
“She was a very brave woman,” recalled Fiet at the theater. “She knew who Haneke was, but Haneke didn’t recognize her. Her grandmother went out without the yellow star. That could have been very dangerous for her.”
Another time, it was Sophie’s imposition of strict discipline that prevented suspicious inquiries. Sometime after the Primowesses took Haneke in, Wigle, who was a carpenter, was taken away to a forced-labor camp in Germany. He eventually managed to escape, but he was so emaciated and sick with tuberculosis that he had to spend some time convalescing in a sanatorium. Naturally Sophie, Fiet and Haneke went to visit him, and Sophie did her utmost to reduce the risk of Haneke being identified as a Jew.
“She told us that children must not speak on a train,” Fiet recounted. So the girls sat primly and properly through both the outward and homeward journeys, and all was well.
In fact, Fiet had to display admirable discipline throughout the four years of her “sibling”’s stay, keeping Haneke a secret from her classmates.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” said Fiet, although she added that many years later, a former school friend had told her she had known about Haneke. “Two years ago she said to me that I said to her ‘I have a sister’ and that I told her ‘a sister of three years, that’s not possible.’ Her father said to her that she must never talk about it.”
“My sister is good at keeping secrets,” said Hans.
Fiet would also do her best to allay her playmate’s unease whenever soldiers came to the door or passed by on the street. In the book, Ran relates how his mother would hide in a cupboard when - ever she sensed danger approaching, and how Fiet would sit by the cupboard and try to comfort her by singing her songs.
But danger lurked everywhere.
“On our street, not far from our house, there were two [Nazi] collaborators,” recalled Hans.
“My mother had a story, in case any - one asked,” he continued. “When people asked why one girl is so blonde and the other girl is so dark[-haired], my mother said that [Haneke] is the child of her sister, who is a widow, and Haneke has dark hair because her father was dark.”
Haneke and Fiet is an emotive and heartwarming story. Goodness seeps out of all its pores, as does bravery. Today, Fiet’s parents are recognized at Yad Vashem as Righteous Among the Nations, and excerpts from the delightfully illustrated book will be part of a new children’s exhibition due to open at Yad Vashem next month.
“I never dreamed all this would hap - pen,” said Ran at the theater. “I just wanted to write a little book about it.”
Ran’s book is not the first time that aspects of the two women’s story have appeared in print. In 2009, a compilation of letters exchanged by Haneke and Fiet – between 1990 and 1994 – called Touching the Memories , came out. It was officially released at a ceremony at a synagogue in Weesp, just outside Amsterdam.
Meanwhile, as we chatted in the Mediatheque café, a dress rehearsal was in full flow. I caught a few minutes of the onstage action as director Noam Shmuel put Noa Har Zion and Keren Selant, who play the leading roles, through their paces along with the other members of the cast.
“It was very moving for us to see the story on the stage,” said Fiet.
The audiences at the two shows last Saturday were similarly moved.
“People cried, and were especially excited to see Haneke and Fiet on the stage after the first performance,” said Ran. “I was amazed that the children in the audience kept so quiet during the shows.
They were really absorbed.”
The Dutch consul was also in the auditorium to see the play. Ran has translated the book into English and would love to have a Dutch version come out – and maybe even see a Dutch-language rendition of the play go up in the Netherlands. The book is already taught at schools in Israel, and it seems fitting that Dutch schoolchildren should also hear the incredible story of how one family’s bravery kept a young Jewish girl safe through the horrors of the Holocaust so she could be reunited with her parents after the war.
In the epilogue to the book, Ran mentions the courage of Fiet and her parents and, poignantly, dedicates the book to the two women “for teaching us the meaning of true friendship.”
The next performance of Haneke and Fiet will take place at the Mediatheque on April 18 at 10:30 a.m. For more information: (03) 502-1552 or www.mediatheque.org.il.


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