This is a picture of me taken in 2002. This is what I look as I’m telling you my story.
For the last four years I've been working for the Association of Jewish Combatants and Casualties in World War II.
Prior to this, I handled compensations paid to Polish Jews from a Swiss fund.
Arnold Mostowicz invited me to participate in this work. While he was president of the Association, I was elected, on his initiative, its secretary general.
This is a picture of me and my relatives.
On the photo from right: my father Jakub Kaferman, I at the age of ten, my father’s sister Jozefa Kaferman, grandmather Hena Kaferman, nee Roter, father’s sister Lucja Margulies, nee Kaferman, our neighbour, my father’s sister Pola Blumenkopf, nee Kaferman and her daughter Jadwiga.
The photo taken in Warsaw, probably in Grandma Kaferman’s apartment in Ciepla Street.
This photo must have been taken during a Sabbath dinner sometime in the 1930s.
This is the symbolic tombstone of the families Kaferman, Krasucki, Margulies, Richter and Roter in the Jewish Cementery in Warsaw.
My mother's and my father’s entire families were killed during War World II. They were all in the Warsaw ghetto.
I’ve never found out whether they died in the ghetto or were murdered in Treblinka extermination camp.
My grandfather Naum alias Nikodem Krasucki was a descendant of the first Rabbi of Warsaw, whose beautiful tomb still stands in the Jewish Cemetery in Warsaw.
This is the fake ‘Kennkarte’ [identification document used under German ocupation] of my Mom, Stefania Krasucka, issued under the false name of Julia Wilczynska. The document was issued in 1940.
I wasn't aware that Mom had come out of the ghetto in February 1942, two months before I arrived in Warsaw with the intention of getting her out.
Our neighbors, the Goscinskis, had arranged for a 'Kennkarte' for her, Mom had left the ghetto, and gone to the Lublin region.
There she became involved in underground education activities.
This is me, at the age of two. This photo was taken in Warsaw in 1927.
Though nobody told me officially, I know that I had an elder brother, and the fact that Mom was pregnant with him probably had something to do with my parents' getting married.
My brother died a few days after his birth, and I, who was born two years later, was an only child.
Since I learned to read and write quite early, they sent me to a kindergarten for Jewish children, which had Bundist leanings. It was located on Twarda Street.
Here you can see my cousin Jadwiga Blumenkopf, the daughter of my aunt Pola Blumenkopf nee Krasucka.
The photo taken in Warsaw in the 1930s.
The eldest son in the family was my father, Jakub Janusz Krasucki.
One of the daughters, Chawa, or Ewa, who was his elder, married a Mr. Lewin and moved to Cracow.
Next came a whole galaxy of sisters.
The youngest girl and another slightly older sister were the only ones who survived, stayed alive through the Holocaust, in the following way:
These are my father, Jakub Kaferman’s relatives.
The photo was taken in Lublin in the 1910s. In the center is my father’s mother, Hena Kaferman, nee Roter, and his sisters (from the left): Wonia Richter, Ewa Lewin, Pola Blumenkopf and Natalia (all nee Kaferman). First from right is my Jakub Kaferman.
Grandma was a great cook. If my own mom was a dunce in culinary matters, Grandma Kaferman was a genius.
Here you can see a montage of photos of my relatives. These photos must have been taken in Warsaw in the 1930s.
On the photo, from the upper left: Brandla Wrobel, nee Krasucka, Nikodem Krasucki, Cecylia Krasucka, nee Schoenfeld, Jerzy Krasucki, Jakub Kaferman, Stefania Krasucka, Rudolf Wielburski, Felicja Wielburska, nee Krasucka, Roza Borowska, nee Krasucka, Hersz Borowski, I, Julian Wielburski, Edward Wielburski, Aleksander Borowski.
These are my parents, Jakub Kaferman and Stefania Krasucka.
This photo must have been taken in Warsaw, in front of their house on 7 Hoza Street, in the 1930s.
A very handsome man, Father captured Mom's heart; subsequently, they had a romance. Marriage wasn't on the cards for a long time, because Mom's family put up desperate resistance; it was a misalliance.