Lidia [Life of Lidia Zamenhof, Daughter of Esperanto by Wendy Heller]

When she could, she tried to interest the Esperantists in her religion. Nearly fifty years later, one lady still lovingly kept the faded little Baha'i pamphlet Lidia had once given her.

Lidia impressed the Esperantists of Lyon as a dreamy, intellectual type, with little experience in practical matters. Once, Cecile Pral recalled, the fire in the room stove had gone out. It used anthracite coal, which was very hard to light. Lidia wanted to start it again. But, not being experienced, she hesitantly dropped the flaming matches onto the anthracite, hoping it would catch fire, much to the amusement of Miss Pral.

Others who knew Lidia in Poland agreed she was a dreamy, mystical type, not given to practical matters, but added that anthracite was not commonly used in Poland, where wood and soft coal were more typical fuels. And like other families in their social class, the Zamenhofs had always had a servant who took care of such things.

Although Lidia seemed frail and delicate in ordinary life, all who knew her agreed that she became 'another person altogether', when she walked onstage to teach. Rene Lemaire recalled her as 'a person who was almost invisible in the street, who walked along slowly, looking at the ground. But when she was in the classroom teaching a lesson, she was a lion.' 'She gave the course like an actress playing a role,' recalled Cecile Pral. 'She threw herselfinto it, and during the day she rested to have the strength for it. She wasn't interested in sightseeing. She used to say, "I've visited so many monuments. I'm tired; I have to keep my strength for my classes."' It seemed odd to them because Lidia was young; Cecile Pral guessed she might not be in good health.

Lidia did not talk much about her family, Pierre Dehan recalled, although once he remembered her talking about the situation in Poland. He could tell from the deep affection with which she spoke of her country that 'for her Poland was something very dear, it was her fatherland'.

Although Lidia had studied French in school, her knowledge of the language was limited and she did not know French slang. The Esperantists of Lyon long remembered with fond amusement how once on the tram Lidia overhead someone say a certain word she had not heard before. It caught her attention because of its peculiar sound. She asked the Borels what the word meant and they responded with embarrassment, 'Oh, you mustn't say that. It's vulgar!'

'Oh,' replied Lidia sadly. 'What a pity! It has such a nice sound.'

The French Esperantists had made up a slang phrase from a rather rude French remark which meant 'buzz off' or 'go away'. In Esperanto the phrase didn't mean anything unless you knew the French. It amused Lidia when she heard it, and Mrs Borel once told Raymond Gonin, 'Imagine! We taught a new Esperanto expression to Lidia Zamenhof— we taught her "buzz off!'"

Pierre Dehan, who lived near the Borels, was a student in Lidia's course. Once, Lidia put an announcement for him in La Praktiko's 'I Wish to Correspond' column. He received twenty or thirty postcards in reply and had to answer them all at least once for courtesy's sake. After he wrote the letters, he took them to the Borels, with the intention of asking Mr Borel to correct them for him. Lidia happened to be there. Mr Dehan recalled that she said, 'Oh, good! Give them to me. 1*11 correct them myself.'

'And she laughed a lot,' Mr Dehan remembered, 'apparently because of some peculiar incorrect phrase I had used. Then she turned to me and said, "When I have such a student I tell him, 'Buzz off!'" Evidently she said that because we were with Mr Borel who was quite a wit.' Later, Lidia autographed an anthology of L. L. ZamenhoPs writings for Pierre Dehan with the words: 'Learn Esperanto well. That is what I want.'

Once, Dr Andre Vedrine recalled, during a lesson in Lyon she told the students that they were her children. Sometime later she was asking the students, as she always did, 'Kiu estas vi?' (Who are you?) and they, ofcourse, answered withtheirnames. Vedrine, atthebackof the room, was the last to be called upon. When Lidia asked him, 'Who are you?' he called out: 'I am your son!' That made her laugh and she said, 'Yes, you are my Esperanto son.' After the course she autographed a book for him: 'To my Esperanto son.'

Raymond Gonin recalled another time when she was asking the students the same question. She came to a lady and said, 'Who are you?' and the woman answered, 'Mi estas malnova esperantistino' (I am an old Esperantist). Taken by surprise but pleased, Lidia cried: 'Oh! I like your name very much!'

Mr Gonin recalled how once, during a lesson, a very shy boy found himselfbeing interrogated by Lidia. 'Ĉu viamas min?' (Do you love me?) she demanded.

'I blushed and my ears were ringing,' the boy later told Raymond Gonin, 'and I didn't know what to say. She laughed and once more she asked me, "Do you love me?" I blurted out, "Yes! I love you!"' And after that, when he became a teacher himself, he always told his own students, 'You must never be shy. I was once shy.' And he would tell them that story.