Travel

Lev Dubinski

Interviewer: Roman Lenchovski
Date of interview: October 2002

Lev Dubinski lives in a three-room apartment in a solid brick house in Industrialnaya Street at some distance from the center of town. His wife Elena received this apartment back in 1961. Lev and his wife Elena Shepenkova, their daughters Irina and Lilia and Lev’s parents Peisach and Maria used to live in this apartment at the beginning.  Now his younger daughter Lilia and her husband Yuri Maltzev live with Lev. We had our discussion in Lev’s room, full of books. There are technical books as well as Russian, Ukrainian, Jewish and German classics. We sit at the round table where Lev’s family used to get together before the war. Lev is a slim gray-haired man of average height with a friendly face. He has deep shrewd eyes and clear logical manner of speaking. When we talked about his grandfathers and great grandfather, his aunts and uncles his memory failed him at times and his voice quivered. There were tears in his eyes…Lev was an expert in the energy field. He is a veteran of the war. He is depressed about the uncertainty of the future.

My memory goes as far as to my great-grandfather in the history of my family. I don’t know his name since my father always called him ‘grandfather’. He was born in a small Jewish town [shtethl] in Kiev province in 1840s. Then he lived in Taborov town near Belaya Tserkov in Kiev Province, where he was Assistant Manager at the countess Branitskaya’s estate. There was Ukrainian, Russian and Jewish population in Taborov. Jews constituted about one third of the population. They dealt in trade and crafts.  My great grandfather told us that at his time there were few synagogues, cheder and Jewish hospital in Taborov. Yiddish and Ukrainian were equally spoken in the town. My grandfather Srul Simcha Dubinski was born in Taborov in 1870. He got married at the age of 18. His wife Sarra (I don’t know her maiden name) was younger than he. She must have also come from Taborov. I am sure they had a Jewish wedding with a chuppah and a rabbi. It couldn’t have been otherwise at that time. They spoke Yiddish in the family, observed Jewish traditions and went to synagogue. Grandmother Sarra was a housewife. In 1889 their first baby Iosif was born. Two years later Revekka was born. Then came my father Peisach in 1893, in 1896 Lev was born and in 1898 — Mark. Isaac was born in 1906 and in 1909 — Pinia was born. Grandfather Srul Simcha didn’t have a profession. He may have finished cheder. For some time he was a stableman for a landlord in Skvira, near Belaya Tserkov, but he kept looking for something better in his life. He had to provide better for his family, he thought. He obtained a visa to USA where he moved in 1911 hoping to earn some money and take his family to America. Grandmother Sarra and the children stayed with his father. Great-grandfather kept a tavern in Taborov to support his grandchildren, but the family was poor anyway: children had to share one pair of shoes. My father always admired and loved his grandfather. He thought he was a self-sacrificing man. I remember how our father took my sister and me to the hospital where our great grandfather was in late 1920s.  Medical assistants carried him outside in his stretches to say his farewells to us. He died shortly afterward. He was buried in accordance with Jewish traditions at the Jewish cemetery in Taborov.

My father, Peisach Dubinski was born in Taborov in 1893. At the time his father Srul Simcha was a stableman for countess Branitskaya and the family lived near the mansion in the vicinity of Taborov.  Although there was a cheder my father went to a parish school [Orthodox Christian school]. The Cheder was located at a long distance from home and for this reason my father’s parents sent him to a parish school. My father said that his schoolmates teased him a lot and it was anti-Semitic attitude. He was the only Jewish boy at school. Ukrainian boys were fair-haired snub-nosed boys while my father had a typical Semitic appearance: brunette with a big nose. Besides, he spoke Ukrainian with a strong Jewish accent that also resulted in a lot of teasing.  However, one teacher stood for him. At religion classes the priest held up my father as an example ‘Look, although this is a Jewish boy he knows Christian prayers best of all of you’. My father attended Christian lessons since it was mandatory for all pupils to attend all classes. He knew Christian prayers best among all other pupils. My father studied successfully at school and manager of the estate in Taborov hired him to teach his son. After finishing the parish school where he studied 4 years my father went to work in a hardware store. He told us that he lived in an attic. He was eager to study and read, but he didn’t get a chance to continue his education.  

In America my grandfather Srul Simcha worked at a button factory saving money for boat tickets. He sent tickets before the Revolution of 1917 1 and his daughter Revekka came to America. She also worked at the button factory where she joined the Communist Party and became its active member. My father also received a ticket to America. He got as far as Antwerp where for some reason he didn’t get immigrant visa from the commission to move on and he had to go back home. 

In 1914 when World War I began my father’s older brother Iosif was recruited to the army. He took part in the war and was captured. At the beginning of World War I the Pale of Settlement 2 was abolished and Jews began moving to bigger towns. The Jewish population in Kiev increased significantly. My great-grandfather Dubinski, grandmother Sarra and her sons also moved to Kiev from Taborov. The family rented an apartment in Basseynaya Street in Kiev. My father and his brothers went to work as shop assistants in an hardware store.  

Shortly afterward my father met Maria Reizis, a Jewish girl from Belaya Tserkov. The Reizis family also moved to Kiev after the Pale of Settlement was abolished. They rented an apartment in the center of the town. My parents got married in 1916. They had a Jewish wedding. They installed a chuppah in the yard of the house where Maria lived. The ceremony was conducted by a rabbi from Brodski synagogue [Brodski family] 3. The newly weds settled down in the Maria parents’ apartment on the corner of Prozorovskogo and Saksaganskogo Streets in the center of the town. 

My maternal grandfather Meyer Reizis was born in a town near Belaya Tserkov in 1864. He finished cheder, but he didn’t continue his studies. He was smart, though.  He worked at a mill sorting out bags with grain and then he became an assistant accountant in an office.  His wife Liya was born in a town near Belaya Tserkov in 1867. After the wedding the newly weds moved to Belaya Tserkov. My grandfather earned little for sorting bags and my grandmother kept cows and sold dairies.  

My grandfather Meyer had 2 sisters and brothers. I only knew one sister Miriam Reizis, born near Belaya Tserkov in 1860s. She lived in Belaya Tserkov later. She didn’t have any education and was a housewife. Miriam had two daughters: her older daughter Tsypoira was deaf and dumb. I don’t remember her older daughter’s name.  They lived in Basseynaya Street in Kiev. Both daughters perished in Babi Yar 4 in 1941. She also had a son named Moisey. He worked as a doctor in Belaya Tserkov. He was much respected. He never refused people and helped them for free whenever they needed him.  Miriam died in Belaya Tserkov before the war. Moisey moved to Kiev with his family after the war. He died in 1980s.

They had five children: their oldest daughter Tsypoira was born in late 1880s. She had no education and was a housewife. She had a Jewish husband named Yakov Yezril and two sons. Her older son Michael, born in 1910, had meningitis when a child and was epileptic. He finished a secondary school, but he never went to work due to his health condition. He was very interested in politics: Stalin and other leaders were his idols. When in evacuation during the war he fell ill with tuberculosis and died. The second son – Naum, was born in 1914. He finished Kiev Industrial College and was a radio engineer. In 1941, at the beginning of the war he was in a group of radio operators that received a task to blast a radio station. I don’t know whether they completed their task, but I know that they all perished in a camp for prisoners-of-war near Kiev. Naum’s wife, Sonia Volodarskaya, Jew, was raising their son Mark, born in early 1941. My parents supported Mark and Sonia, particularly, after Tsypoira died in 1953. Mark finished Kiev Polytechnic College. He is an energy engineer. Sonia died in Kiev in late 1980s, and Mark moved to Israel in 1989. We’ve lost contact with him. 

After Tsypoira there was Polina, born in 1891. She didn’t have any education. Her father taught her to read and write a little. He also taught Tsypoira. Polina was a housewife. She was short and plain and grandmother always felt sorry for her. Polina was married to a nice and kind Jewish man Lev Zagrebel’ny. He was a prisoner during World War I. When he returned home he wanted to marry Elia, the youngest sister, but grandmother said ‘No, you shall marry Polina I dare to say’. She got a nice dowry and he married Polina. Their son Boris became a design engineer. He worked at a military plant in Moscow and retired in the rank of lieutenant colonel. Lev dealt in commerce. He died in 1947. Polina’s neighbor looked after Polina and Boris sent her money to pay her neighbor for care. My wife and I were working then. We also helped Polina whenever we could. She died in Kiev in early 1980s.

My mother Maria Reizis was born in 1893. My mother was beautiful and smart. She was one of the best pupils in the grammar school in Belaya Tserkov. She finished grammar school with honors. Elia, the youngest sister, was 3 years younger than my mother. She also studied in grammar school, which she didn’t finish. Elia married Lev, my father’s brother. They had a daughter named Mary. She was born in 1923. She graduated from Kiev State University and was a Ukrainian teacher at school. She liked Ukrainian literature and was fond of Ukrainian folk songs. Elia’s son Moisey was born in 1924. He was 17 when the Great Patriotic War 5 began. He went to excavate trenches near Donetsk. He returned home in late September 1941 and went to Babi Yar in Kiev with other Jews.

My grandparents’ youngest son Moisey was born in 1900. He finished cheder and grammar school.  My mother told me that he was extremely strong: all other boys in Belaya Tserkov were afraid of him. He was tall, strong, healthy and handsome. He always protected my mother from the young men that were too insistent demanding her attention. When in 1915 the Pale of Settlement was abolished my grandfather Meyer decided to move his family to Kiev. He wanted his son Moisey to get a good education and arrange successful marriages for his daughters. Moisey entered Kiev Medical College. In 1918 he married Lisa Spector, a Jewish girl. A year later their daughter Lusia was born.  Moisey sympathized with the Whites 6, but when in 1919 during the Civil War 7 Denikin 8 units came to town his neighbors reported that he was a communist and provided medical care to the Red Army troops.  He was a devoted doctor and never refused patients regardless of their political convictions or nationality. They lived in 9, Basseynaya Street. One night Denikin’s soldiers took him away from home. There is a family legend that relatives wanted to give ransom for Moisey. They collected some gold, but when they came to his guards it was already too late. Moisey was gone. Relatives began to search for Moisey, but they failed. Few days later they heard that Denikin troops shot their prisoners at the town cemetery. Grandfather Meyer and my father went there and found Moisey. [his body] They buried him at the Lukianovska Jewish cemetery 9 in accordance with the Jewish tradition. This was a tragic death of a strong 19-year-old man. His daughter was 3 months old when he perished. Lusia died of tuberculosis in 1932 and Lisa perished in Babi Yar in 1941. There was only one photo brooch of Moisey. Grandmother Liya always wore it. She felt guilty that the family came up with their ransom too late. 

In Kiev grandfather Meyer opened a store selling construction materials. It was located in the center of the town. Grandmother worked there as a shop assistant.  The store was closed at the end of NEP 10 in 1929. My grandparents moved to 21 Malo-Vasilkovskaya Street near the Brodski synagogue. They rented an apartment in a private house. There was a terrace and two connecting rooms in this apartment. They were poor, but their relatives came to celebrate Jewish holidays with them anyway. Their children and their families were not religious and didn’t observe any Jewish traditions in their homes, but they enjoyed visiting their parents on Jewish holidays. My grandfather and grandmother were religious. They went to the Brodski synagogue. My grandfather wore a black yarmulka and had a short gray-haired bear and moustache. He was a slim short man. He wasn’t a pedantic orthodox that follows all rules and rituals, but they always celebrated Sabbath. My grandmother wore a kerchief that was a rule for Jewish women. On Friday my mother’s sisters and their families visited their parents and my grandmother lit candles. My grandparents always celebrated Pesach. I remember one celebration. The table was covered with a snow white tablecloth. There was red wine, fancy wine glasses and food on the table. I was surprised to see wine since we never had strong drinks at home. Grandfather sat at the head of the table with a white cloth with black stripes on him. This was a tallit. He had leather boxes on his forehead and on his hand: tefillin.   I also remember Chanukkah: a merry holiday when the whole family got together to celebrate. Grandfather gave his grandchildren Chanukkah gelt. There was a chanukkiah with 7 candles and one in the center. When my mother’s sisters and my father’s brothers got together for a celebration they only spoke Yiddish. 

Grandfather spoke Russian to his grandchildren and Yiddish – to grandmother and his children.  Our grandmother spoke Ukrainian that she could hardly speak to the grandchildren and Yiddish – to her children and our grandfather. She was a very kind woman, but she had no education whatsoever. However, she loved us dearly and we did love her. I also have happy memories of my grandfather. He loved his grandchildren dearly. He often asked me ‘Who do I love most of all?’ and I replied ‘Me’ and he said ‘That’s right!’ Maria and other children also made a right guess since he really loved all of us a lot. There were many children paying in the yard where my grandparents lived. There was a volleyball grid stretched and Maria and I liked to go and play volleyball with other children. 

I was born in Kiev on 7th December 1916. Less than a year later the October revolution took place. My relatives had different reactions to this event. In 1917 Iosif returned from the front and moved to America. In February 1917 my father’s brother Mark joined the Bolshevik Party and took part in the revolution. My mother’s father Meyer Reizis was skeptical about the revolution. As for my father, I remember him saying ‘Of course, there were many bad things, but look how the country changed! Look at the houses! Nobody has to share one pair of boots to go to school! My great grandfather also had a loyal attitude toward the revolution since his family was very poor before the revolution and he could compare things. For some time grandfather Srul Simcha kept in touch: he sent boat tickets for his wife and children and in Revekka returned in 1921 to take her mother and brothers with her. However, my father Peisach and his brother Lev were already married. They stayed here and so did their brother Mark. Grandmother Sarra, Isaac and Pinia moved to America. During NEP they sent us money and we could buy things in Torgsin stores 11. I remember they sent us $10 during Famine in Ukraine 12 in 1930s. This was a big support for us.  My grandmother had eye problems in America. Later we lost contact with them. In 1930s correspondence with relatives abroad was forbidden 13. If one only mentioned having relatives in America in application forms it put an end to one’s career.

My father’s brother Lev had no education. After moving to Kiev he worked as a shop assistant in a store.  He married my mother’s younger sister Elia Reizis. They lived in Basseynaya Street.

Mark finished the Military Academy in Moscow in the rank of a division commissar. He was a well read and intelligent man. He went into the revolution. After finishing the Academy Mark lived in Kiev. Then his unit was transferred to Borisov in Belarus where he was chief of Harrison.  He didn’t make a prompt military career, though. He was an honest and outspoken man. Mark was married, but had no children. His wife was a housewife. In 1937, during Stalin’s purges 14 Mark avoided arrest only by miracle. A colleague of his spoke at one meeting. He said some people fail to be watchful: for example, Mark Dubinski hadn’t determined one single ‘enemy of the people’ 15.  Mark came home, packed his bag and sat expecting an arrest, but nothing happened. In the morning it turned out that the man who said this at the meeting was arrested.  Mark’s commanding officer sent Mark to a provincial division where he could be safe. When the Great Patriotic War began he was promoted to the rank of senior commissar of a battalion and sent to the front near Yelna in the vicinity of Smolensk. He got wounded in his arm and had to go to hospital. After the hospital he was demobilized.  He lived in Moscow and worked as human resource inspector in the Navy Ministry. He had a nice apartment. He was a law obedient communist. I think he understood what was going on, but he believed in the idea, however strange it may seem. He had many doubts at the end of his life. He had some inner fear since 1937. My sister Maria lived in Moscow since 1943. Mark was very attached to her. He treated her like a daughter.  She said that at the end of his life Mark had persecution mania that made life unbearable. She couldn’t open the door to a postman, call a doctor or let a medical nurse in. He went to distant bakeries to buy bread so that shop assistants didn’t remember him. He had never had anti-Soviet spirits, but there was some bitterness that he suffered from. He came to see Maria to warm up a little. He brought presents for her children. When Mark was a widower Maria asked whether he could obtain a permit for one of her sons to reside in his apartment so that after he died the apartment could belong to her children, but he refused explaining that he couldn’t reveal any documents to keep safe. This was evident persecution mania. Mark died in Moscow in 1985. He was buried at the town cemetery and his apartment went to some outsiders. 

I went to synagogue with my [maternal] grandfather carrying his prayer book I was a cute boy: I had golden curls and was called ‘a little lord’ in my childhood.  I remember that when in 1930s Soviet authorities began their struggle against religion 16 they closed Christian, Catholic and Jewish religious institutions. The Brodski synagogue was closed in 1931 our grandfather called Maria and me to help load the Torah scrolls on a truck. I don’t know where they hauled all these valuables. Shortly afterward our grandfather fell ill. He had to stay in bed and our mother went to look after him. He died of lung cancer in 1934. He was buried near Moisey’s grave at the town cemetery in accordance with the Jewish tradition. When grandfather died my grandmother and my mother’s sister Tsypoira sat on the floor for 7 days. My mother told me it was a requirement of the Jewish procedures.

My parents were raised in religious families, but they were not religious themselves. They thought there was too much suffering in life and if God existed he wouldn’t allow things to happen. They attended synagogue when they were children, but, as my father and mother stated it was a ‘childish faith’. 

We lived in a 4-storied house on the corner of Prozorovskaya and Saksaganskogo Streets in the very center of the city. There were Jewish, Ukrainian, Russian and Polish tenants. My parents were always busy and I spent much time outside playing with other children. We didn’t care about nationality. My parents spoke Yiddish at home, particularly, when they were arguing and didn’t want us to understand the subject of their discussion. They spoke Russian to Maria and me.  I could understand Yiddish well, but I could hardly speak any. My parents tried to teach me to read in Yiddish, but I was an impatient pupil and didn’t learn much. My parents spoke Yiddish until the end of their days. My father and mother read many Russian books: they were particularly fond of Russian classics Gorky 17 and Gogol 18. They spoke fluent Russian.

My father was an assistant accountant in a trade association. My mother was a housewife. She spent a lot of her time in the kitchen and I heard her singing there. She sang Soviet popular songs, but I don’t remember her singing Jewish songs.

We had very close relationships with my mother’s sisters and their families. They didn’t observe any Jewish traditions. Perhaps, they had faith inside, but they were far from orthodox beliefs. [Editor’s note: probably practices] Besides, in 1920s the Soviet regime struggled against religion. My parents didn’t observe Jewish traditions. I remember my mother eating brown bread at Pesach – she liked it.  She always asked Maria and me ‘Please, don’t tell your grandmother or grandfather that I’ve eaten brown bread’. And we kept it a secret. My father liked pork fat and cracklings very much. His breakfast consisted of brown bread with cracklings that he liked through his life. This is the way I remember my parents, but I don’t know whether they had different habits before.

I liked meeting with my cousins Michael, Naum, Boris and Moisey, but I spent most of the time with my friends in the street. On 1st May 1923 my sister Maria was born. She was the first baby in our family, born after my mother’s brother Moisey perished and was named after him: the first letter in her name was the same as in Moisey’s name. I remember that my mother was feeling ill and my father took Maria after he came from work and sang songs in Yiddish carrying her around our roundtable covered with a nice tablecloth. My childhood memories come back to me whenever I hear Jewish tunes. 

In 1924 I went to the first grade at Russian school # 33 in Gorky Street near our house.  We had a wonderful teacher. Her name was Nina Badibelova, a very intelligent lady. Her father was a general. She loved children. She was strict with us, but fair and we loved her in return. She read poems by Pushkin 19 and Shevchenko 20 in Russian to us. After I finished the 4th grade our school was turned into a Jewish school. All it meant was that the language of teaching changed to Yiddish. Everything else was the same. I really had a poor conduct of Yiddish and I went to study in Russian school # 53. I wish I knew Yiddish and Ivrit. My parents decided that I had to go to a Russian school. They thought that one had to follow the rules of the country one lived in.  I also understood that I had to learn Russian. My school was a grammar school for girls before the revolution. It was located in Fundukleyevskaya Street. We had very good teachers that used to teach in the former grammar school. Maxim Tkach was a wonderful teacher of Ukrainian. I began to read Ukrainian books then. At that time I began studying Ukrainian culture. I liked literature and was fond of reading, but I didn’t choose it for profession. I read everything that fell upon me. Later I became fond of Dostoyevskiy 21. I also read Sholem Alechem 22 and other Jewish authors in Russian. I read Ukrainian authors: Shevchenko 23 and Lesia Ukrainka 24. I was growing up in the Russian culture and I do not have any preferences based on national origins. I identified myself as a Jew and I knew that my parents were Jews, that their mother tongue was Yiddish and that grandfather went to synagogue, but it had no effect on me. 

I studied well and was a leader at school and in my street. My friends respected me and listened to my opinions.  I didn’t face any anti-Semitism.  I became a pioneer at school. We wore red neckties and sang ‘Rise in flames, blue nights…’ – a hymn of pioneers.  We also competed in our studies. In 1931, at the age of 14 I finished lower secondary school and submitted my application to the Electrotechnical College. I wasn’t even allowed to take exams since my father was a clerk and there was a quota based on one’s origin in higher educational institutions. Then I passed tests at the employment agency that gave me a letter of recommendation to go to a factory vocational school. There were children of white-collar workers studying there after they failed to enter higher educational institutions. There were also children of workers, of course. There was a rather high level of education and many of my contemporaries made good careers in future. This school gave secondary education and a profession. After two years of studies I got a profession of 3-grade electrician. There was a 7-grade category for this profession and my grade was good for me considering that I was only a 16-year-old teenager. This qualification enabled me to work as a general electrician on any enterprise, unless it came to some specific situations that required higher qualifications.

I remember the period of famine in 1933. We didn’t quite suffer from hunger since there were better food supplies in big towns. Our neighbor Kuznitcinskiy that had a wife and two daughters brought his son from his first marriage. Their boy was swollen from hunger. The boy’s stepmother didn’t quite like him, but they rescued him from death anyway. I also saw a woman in the street dying from starvation. The famine was explained by the fact that ‘enemies of the people’ were hiding bread and there was not enough of it, therefore. I didn’t really believe it. Nowadays some TV channels, radio stations and newspapers state that it was an intended extermination of the Ukrainian people. I think that it was just ruthless policy of collectivization 25. They took away everything from villagers leaving them to starve to death. The motto was – who is not with us is against us. They showed no mercy to people exterminating them. 

After finishing my school I went to work as an electrician at the cashier manufacture plant and went to study in the evening department of Rabfak 26 to complete my secondary education. I met Elena Shepenkova, a Russian girl, at the rabfak. Elena lost her mother at the age of 3 and was raised by her father Iosif Shepenkov. Maria told me later that my mother wasn’t quite happy that I was seeing a Russian girl, but she did not mentioned it to me.  She only said at the beginning ‘She is an orphan. If you are not serious about it – just leave her alone’. I was serious about her.  ‘

In 1934 I passed my entrance exams to Kiev Industrial College with all excellent marks, but was not admitted. Their official response was ‘there are no vacancies’. The admission commission said I had to gain work experience since one year that I had was not enough.  This was unfair: there were other students that passed their exams with worse marks, but were admitted. This was social injustice again, but what could I do? I returned to my rabfak school where I studied for another year and worked as a junior radio engineer at the RV-9 radio station. There was a nice work team there: engineer on duty was a Jew, chief engineer was Russian and technicians: Russian, Ukrainian, Polish and even a Tatar men.  This radio station broadcast all over Ukraine. I was gaining life and work experience. A year later, in 1935 I took exams at the Industrial College again. I didn’t pass my exams as successfully as a year before, but I was admitted to the Electric Engineering Faculty. I studied in College and worked at the radio station for another half year. There was a coupon system. All employees received food coupons. So did I. A coupon was worth 600 rubles per month that was a lot of money (more than a stipend). I worked night shifts, but my friends let me sleep a little to be fit for studies. Half a year later I quit. I understood it was too hard to work night shifts and study.

1937, a year of Stalin’s purges, began [Great Terror]. Director of our college Efimov, a nice man that always supported students and worked out improvements of the studying processes disappeared one day. We were told that he was an ‘enemy of the people’. I said to my friend ‘Kolia, he does not seem to be an ‘enemy of the people’. He replied ‘What do we know anyway? I don’t think he is an enemy, but who knows? Let us not discuss this subject’. We understood that it was dangerous to discuss certain subjects. There were general meetings condemning people. Secretary of the Faculty stood up, made a speech and said ‘there is a proposal to condemn this person and issue the following resolution’. Then the resolution was pronounced and all attendants expressed their approval by raising hands. For some people it was just a matter of making a career and others were indifferent. Only brave people having their own principles dared to speak against a crowd. We were conformists. If someone decided to go against a common line one had to be prepared for oppressions. For us it might mean expel from College or even arrest. We didn’t have a right to have our own opinions. There was one chief and one single point of view: everything he said was to be followed.  

I joined Komsomol 27 after a while. I wasn’t a big politician, but I already had my doubts about the situation in the country. Almost all of my co-students were Komsomol members. Only those that didn’t study well were not admitted. In 1939, when I was 23, a secretary of our Komsomol unit asked me ‘What is it all about? Why aren’t you joining Komsomol?’ I replied ‘My studies take all of my time. Besides, I am not ready from a political point of view’. He said ‘Stop it. If you have specific reasons let’s talk about them’.  I had relatives abroad and it was very dangerous. We were not in touch, but I kept this fact a secret. One of my co-students was expelled for reading books by Trotsky 28 that was put of favor at the time. It took us quite an effort to stand for him since he was about to be expelled from College. I decided to stop being a black sheep and joined Komsomol in 1939. I attended meetings to keep up with the crowd and paid my monthly fees on time. At some meetings they discussed students that had to improve their studies, but there were hardly any political subjects on the agenda. 

After finishing the Rabfak school, Elena entered the Faculty of Chemical Equipment Manufacture at the Industrial College. We got married in 1939 and lived with my parents. They partitioned half of their room for us.  A year after Elena finished the College and got a job assignment 29 to Tuapse in the Caucasus [in Russia]. She was on the family way then. I was assigned to a military training in College that extended my studies in College for half a year. We wrote a letter to the plant in Tuapse where she was to be employed requesting them to release her due to her ‘condition’. They gave us their consent and Elena received a ‘free’ diploma.  

I finished College in March 1941 and got a diploma of power engineer. I went to work as an engineer to the power plant in Kiev regenerator rubber plant in Darnitsa on the left bank of the Dnieper. On 18th May 1941, a month before the Great Patriotic War our older daughter Irina was born. In June 1941 my sister Maria finished school and entered the Music Pedagogic Department in Kiev Conservatory. She had a prom on 22nd June and at 4 a.m. in the morning Kiev was bombed. The war began. My plant was getting ready for evacuation. Our management left for Kharkov before everybody else. I received a subpoena to the military registry office and mobilized on 7th July. I was included in the team of 12 experts with higher electric engineering education to study at the Faculty of Special Equipment in the Leningrad Air Force Academy named after Voroshylov. When we arrived in Leningrad the Military Academy had evacuated to Yoshkar Ola in Central Asia [today Russia in 3200 km from Kiev]. We were lucky to be late since pilots that entered the Academy in 1941 perished in their first battles. They didn’t have sufficient training and flew planes that couldn’t compete with German planes. Our team took training in the flak school in Leningrad. After finishing this school in October 1941 we were sent to the flak battery in Didkovo village near Moscow.  We were in the flak defense of Moscow. I was an artillery man all through the war. Artillery units were in few kilometers from the front line at the distance of a cannon shell flight from the front line. On 7 July 1941 my wife and our baby evacuated on a boat-pulled barge. Elena evacuated with her aunt that worked at the Bolshevik plant. They reached Dnepropetrovsk and from there they traveled to Sukhoy Log, Sverdlovsk region by coal transportation trains.

My father was 48 years old in 1941. He was also mobilized: in early July was sent to labor units in Donetsk. From there authorities sent them back home. My mother and sister were not planning to evacuate. They didn’t think the war was going to last long and they believed that Germans were civilized people. Maria was demobilized to excavate trenches, but mother kept her at home.  Elena’s father Iosif Shepenkov was chief accountant in Kiev Sugar Trust. He helped my mother, Maria, Elia and Mary to evacuate  with his company. They reached Kursk [about 400 km from Moscow] where Maria entered a Pedagogic College. However, they had to move on since the front line was coming near the town. My father returned to Kiev in early September and Iosif helped him to evacuate as well. Iosif decided to stay in Kiev: he had trombophlebitis and it was hard for him to move. My father reached Kursk and they headed for Kuibyshev [today Samara in Russia, 1000 km from Moscow ] in Central Asia where they got a letter from Elena. She wrote she was waiting for them in Sukhoy Log village [2300 km from Kiev]. Before we parted we agreed to write post restante to bigger regional towns. When they met with Elena my mother stayed with our little daughter at home and Elena went to work as chief mechanic at the Salvageable non-Ferrous Metal Plant. My father was a storage keeper at this plant. He had a kitchen garden near his storage facility where he grew potatoes. It helped them to survive during the war.  

The Kiev Conservatory evacuated to Sukhoy Log and my mother hoped that Maria would study there, but Maria didn’t have an instrument and had to give up music. She went to work in hospital evacuated from Leningrad. She was employed for the position of an attendant, but she was actually an entertainment specialist: she played for patients, but she also looked after them and cut and fetched wood for stoves. In late 1942 the hospital returned to Leningrad. Maria was a civilian and did not go there. In August 1943 Maria came to Moscow. She found me in Did’kovo where our flak battery was deployed and stayed with me 3 days.  That year she entered the Faculty of Economics in Moscow State University. 

Many military joined the Party at the front. One commander of our regiment said ‘You must submit your application to join the Party’ and I replied ‘I am not worthy to join it yet’. He said ‘Stop chattering like that. You are an officer with a higher education and you spoil this whole picture here. Just write a request’. I had no choice and I submitted my request, but I felt a more decent and honest man when I did not belong to the Party.  

In November 1943, as soon as Kiev was liberated I requested a leave and went to Kiev to search for my cousin brother Naum, son of my mother’s sister Tsypoira. I got a drive to the outskirts of Kiev and from there I had to walk since there was no transportation. I walked along the railroad track keeping my hand on my gun: there were numerous bandits on he roads. A patrol officer stopped me to check documents and warned me: ‘When you reach Kreschatik [Kreschatik is the main street of Kiev] walk in the middle of the street beware of bandits and ruins’. Elena’s father Iosif Shepenkov stayed in Kiev. He was a Christian and Germans didn’t touch him. Iosif wrote me that Naum was sent to a concentration camp in Darnitsa. It was the end of November: it was cold and got dark early. It was hard to see Kreschatik in ruins. My wife and I used to enjoy its beauty before the war. I got to the left bank and found ashes at the concentration camp site. I talked with local residents, but found no traces of Naum. 

Our neighbors told me that Liya and Elia’s son Moisey perished. When it became clear that Germans were coming to Kiev grandmother, her daughter Tsypoira, her son Michael, her husband Yakov, her daughter-in-law Sonia and her grandson Mark hired a horse-driven wagon and moved to the east. There was also their luggage on the wagon and they had to walk behind the wagon. My grandmother was an old woman and could hardly walk. She said she wanted to go back home. She kind of foresaw her death. She said she wanted to die at home. She got a ride back home. Grandmother Liya came to her apartment in September 1941. When on 29 September all Jews were ordered to go to Babi Yar the janitor woman reported on her. Other neighbors tried to rescue my grandmother pushing her bed behind a wardrobe, but the janitor reported to policemen that there was another Jewish woman in the house. This janitor wanted my grandmother’s room and she got it afterward. At that same time Elia’s 17-year-old son Moisey came to his grandmother from where they were excavating trenches. Policemen dragged my grandmother from the 2nd floor. She was actually paralyzed and when it became clear that she couldn’t march to Babi Yar Germans shot her right near the entrance to the house. Her daughter Tsypoira lived in this house in Malo-Vasilkovskaya Street for a longtime after the war. My grandmother, Moisey and Naum had no graves. There are no traces of them. There is nothing left.  

There was a heavy load on my heart when I returned to my unit. Our flak battery was near Moscow until 1944.

In 1944 Elena, our 3-year-old daughter Irina and my parents returned to Kiev from evacuation. There were neighbors residing in our apartment. They didn’t want to move out and Elena, our daughter and my parents had to live with my mother’s sister Elia in Institutskaya Street. There was too little space for all of them. They lived in a garret and there was no gas or toilet there, of course. My mother cooked on a primus stove. Elena told me that every evening she rushed home to make sure that a dry wooden house was still there. Elena went to work as an engineer at ‘Ukrgiprogas’ Institute, my father was a shop assistant in a hardware store and my mother was a housewife.

After the war with Germany was over in spring 1944 our artillery units was sent to the Far East to fight against Japan 30. I shall not speak about the war with Germany or Japan. Those memories are too hard to bear. Our military drank a lot on the Japanese front – probably because they were too bored. They were looking for hard drinks. Once they got some wood alcohol and I remember a young lieutenant that kept asking ‘Will I get blind from drinking this?’ He did. When the war with Japan was over our officers had bags and trains loaded with what they looted. I felt angry about it. My wife was always proud that I never got involved in it. I bought a piece of Japanese silk for her and this was all I brought. I finished the war in the rank of captain. I was awarded medals for the victory over Germany and Japan.

In 1946 when the war with Japan was over I returned to Kiev. I had to apply to court to have our apartment back. The court refused us since there were no archives left after the war and there was no solid evidence that the apartment belonged to us. We needed witnesses to confirm that we had lodged there and that my parents were a husband and wife since there was no marriage certificate left. Where could we find a witness to prove that they got married in 1915? Elena’s father Iosif and her stepmother were our witnesses. Iosif to joke afterward: Well, I am like their best friend – I was at their wedding’, but of course, our parents were not even acquainted at that time.  I got a good job of personal assistant to the Minister of Transport.  I got a letter of recommendation at work that I was told to take to Rudenko [General Prosecutor of the USSR]. I took all documents from the court, including a letter from my work and a letter of solicitation signed by Maxim Rylskiy 31, a well-known Ukrainian poet that was a deputy at that time to Moscow. I had to wait for my appointment for 3 days. The Prosecutor was an overpowering man.  He was sitting at his desk in a long office and when I entered the office I heard him saying ‘Well, and how is the captain doing?’  I was wearing my military uniform. I said ‘The captain cannot accommodate his family in our own apartment’. – ‘How come?’ – ‘Occupied’.  - ‘By whom?’ – ‘Neighbors’. -  ‘Do you mean to say that a combat officer that came from the war cannot accommodate his family in a normal apartment? Give me your papers and come back tomorrow’. He reviewed all papers carefully. When I came a day later his secretary had all my papers with his resolution. This was how I got back my apartment.

On 28 December 1947 our younger daughter Lilia was born. Lilia identified herself as a Jew since she was a child.  When she grew up she told us the following story. When she was in the first grade their teacher had to fill up a form and began to ask children their nationality.  When it was my daughter’s turn the teacher asked ‘Lilia, and how about you?’ Then she continued ‘Well, you are Russian’, but Lilia corrected her with her voice trembling: ‘No, I am a Jew’. Some of her classmates giggled. During a break Abrasha, a Jewish boy, pointed his finger at Lilia saying ‘Did you hear this? Did you? She is a Jew!’ and another Jewish boy Garik Bresler protected Lilia saying ‘Go away, you fool!’ and Lilia kept saying ‘Yes, I am a Jew!’ Although we never discussed this subject in the family, she understood that Jews needed protection. Probably, the Yiddish language her grandmother and grandfather spoke and the general atmosphere in the house had their influence on the child’s mind.

Lilia liked going to parades when she was small. She went with Elena or me on 1 May or 7 November 32. In 1950s going to parades was mandatory. My colleagues carried Lilia on their shoulders and gave her candy and balloons. There was dancing and singing around and she enjoyed it a lot.

Anti-Jewish state campaigns [Campaign against cosmopolitans] 33 of late 1940s - early 1950s had no impact on us. Of course, those newspaper publications about ‘rootless’ cosmopolites’ or ‘murderers in white robes’ during the period of the doctors’ plot 34 in 1953 were disgusting. All people having sound mind understood that it was nonsense, but they kept quiet. They were scared remembering 1937 when people were removed for saying one hasty word. When Stalin died in 1953 it became easier to breath, though there was confusion in the first moments: aren’t things turning to worse?  There were ‘local performers’ that inspired fear in people even at the time when Stalin was an unquestionable authority.  

My sister Maria finished Moscow State University in 1949 and was planning to go back to Kiev. When she was a student she met with a Spanish student Anastacio Mancilia-Cruis. Maria lied to Anastacio that she was going to get married in Kiev. He took her to her train, but when she arrived home there was a telegram waiting for her. It said ‘Don’t do anything’. He came to Kiev with the next train and came to our house wearing boots, jacket and worn trousers: this was all he had. Our mother was ill and could not be bothered with Anastacio’s non-Jewish origin.  My father said to my mother ‘Maria, the girl loves him!’  They bought Anastacio a new suit and he married my sister. They had a civil ceremony in a registry office. He always had warm relationships with our parents. 

Maria’s husband Spaniard Anastacio Mancilia-Cruis was born in Viscaria province in Spain in 1924. His father, a Basque, was a miner and his mother was a housewife both of they Spaniards. There were six children in the family. His father was a socialist and his mother was a communist.  When the war in Spain 35 began in 1936 Anastacio and other Spanish children were taken to the USSR. They lived in a children’s home in Yevpatoria.  When the Great Patriotic War began this children’s house evacuated to Saratov [in over 1 thousand km from Kiev]. Anastacio studied successfully in a Rabfak and worked and for his successes he got a stipend in Saratov University. The war was over. He finished his first year on the Faculty of Economics when the dean of the faculty told him to continue his studies in Moscow. He arrived in Moscow in 1944 and met Maria. They got married in 1949. In 1950 their older son Thomas was born. They often came to visit us in Kiev. Anastacio graduated from the University and took up postgraduate studies. After finishing his studies he was a lecturer in higher educational institutions in Moscow. In 1962 they moved to Cuba and lived in Havana for 3 years. Maria taught Russian in the Academy of the Russian language and Anastacio – political economy in Havana University. Anastacio was a convinced communist: honest and bright.  After they returned from Cuba he worked at the Institute of Social Sciences where he was Professor of Economics and Doctor of Sciences. His father died in Spain in 1949 and his mother was sentenced to 19 years of imprisonment as a communist. In 1957 she was released from prison and died shortly afterward. Two days before she died Maria gave birth to Vladimir, their second son. My sister worked as an editor in business publications. Since 1968 she has been editor of the ‘Issues of Economics’, a journal in Moscow.  Her husband Anastacio died in Moscow in 1987.

Thomas finished Moscow Medical College. In 1985 he moved to Madrid. He works as anesthesiologist in a military hospital there. His wife Margarita Hones-Bruno is Spanish. Their daughters Laura and Margarita can hardly speak any Russian. They identify themselves as Spaniards and do not remember any Jewish roots.  Maria’s younger son Vladimir was a biologist. He drew very well.  His wife was an art expert. He also knew history of arts very well.  Vladimir died of sarcoma in 1996, at the age of 39. His older son Alexandr lives in Strasburg. He is a philologist and sociologist. His younger son Piotr works at a TV channel in Moscow. 

In 1970 we all of a sudden found my father’ sister Revekka. She was about 80 years old. She lived with her son John Ravinski, his wife, their grandson and great-granddaughter. Revekka and her son were communists. He was against the war in Vietnam and emigrated to Moscow from America under the name of Stanley Bender. Revekka got in touch with my father and I arranged a business trip to Moscow where I went with my father. We met secretly with Mark, Maria and Lilia that studied in Moscow. Since I never mentioned any relatives living abroad they couldn’t pop up as if from nowhere. Even in 1970 this line item about relatives abroad was quite ominous. Revekka and my father spoke Yiddish. Our father translated it for us.  John had a good conduct of English. [John grew up in the USA] In Moscow he worked for the ‘Progress’ publishing house. He translated Marx and Engels. They lived in the Soviet Union for about a year, but they didn’t like it here and moved to China. From there they moved to Cuba and then to Chile. John fought with Salvador Allende 36, and was executed with him in 1973. Revekka died from sorrow in 1974. She was buried in Santiago de Chile.

In 1961 my wife received a 3-room apartment in Industrialnaya Street from design institute ‘Ukrgiprogas’ where she was working. It was far from the center, but we were happy that Elena and I, my parents and the girls had their own rooms. In 1966 Lilia finished a secondary school and tried to enter the State University in Kiev, but failed. She worked at a plant for 2 years. In 1968 Lilia entered the College of Economic Statistics in Moscow. She lived with Maria’s family.  In 1973 after finishing the college she returned to Kiev and got married shortly afterward. Her husband Yuri Maltzev was Russian and came from Siberia.  In 1975 their son Michael was born.  In 1977 Lilia and Michael moved in with Yuri. There was too little space and every now and then they came to stay with us. Lilia has worked as an economist: she started at a plant, then worked in the State Computer Center and now she works for a private company. Irina, the older daughter, has lived in Kiev. After finishing school she entered Kiev Polytechnic College. She finished it in 1957 and became a programmer engineer. At first she worked at the programming bureau in the Antonov plant and then went to work at the Autotrans computer center. Irina married Anatoli Gordienko, a Ukrainian man. In 1965 their daughter Anna was born. She finished the Public Economy College in Kiev. She is an accountant there. Her daughter Elena was born in 1990.

Since 1953 I worked in design institute ‘Energoset’project’. I was chief of high-voltage power line design department. In 1970s my nationality issue had an impact on my career. There was a vacancy of chief engineer in my institute. I was an incumbent for this position, but the district Party committee did not approve me for this position due to my Jewish identity. Chief of department was the highest position for a Jew. A Jew could not become director or chief engineer – such was the state policy.  However, my wife and I had a good life. We earned well. We went to the cinema and theater and spent our summer vacations at the seashore. We didn’t celebrate any holidays specifically, but we liked to invite friends for a party on Soviet holidays and birthdays and we also visited our friends. Occasionally we went to the theater or cinema, or went for a walk on weekends, but most often we stayed at home enjoying quiet family reunions. We usually spent vacations in the Crimea or Caucasus where we went with the family.

My friends were trying to convince me to move to Israel in 1970s. My argumentation to them was that I had a Russian wife and half-Russian daughters. I also told them that I didn’t know the language.  I had a good job here and a good family and I thought that my place was here.  My daughters and grandchildren say now that they wish we moved. In 1984 I retired, but at times I worked at Energoset’project under an employment agreement before 1993. My mother lived with sound mind until the age of almost 90. She was the head of the household until the end of her life.  She died in 1983 and my father died in 1987. They were buried at the Jewish corner of the town cemetery.

Perestroika 37 began in the middle of 1980s opening our eyes to the crimes of the Soviet regime. I subscribed to a number of newspapers and magazines: we got an opportunity to read everything that had been forbidden before. Many people lost their remaining faith in the Soviet regime. However, this doesn’t mean that everything was bad about socialism. There was stability and social protection. We lost our savings and became poor in an instant. We lost certainty about our future and the future for our children. 

In 1990 Elena died at the age of 75. We lived together for 51 years. We celebrated our golden wedding.  I was a lucky man: I had a good wife, good family and interesting work.  Regretfully, the end of my life is sad. I am limited in my interests. I do not subscribe to newspapers and I don’t go to the cinema: I can’t afford it. I am careful about my old TV set that I bought in 1970s: if something goes wrong I won’t be able to have it repaired. It is depressing to think about what tomorrow has in stock for me. Life becomes more expensive: the apartment fee is 1.5 times higher than it used to be. I receive a small pension. My daughters offer their support, but this alienates us to some extent. They know I don’t like it when they offer their help and they can feel it. My health condition leaves much to be desired: I have hypertension and ischemic disease of the heart. I need expensive medications, but I can’t afford to buy them. There is a privilege for veterans of the war to receive free medications, but in the recent years I’ve only received them twice. Since 1984 I stayed in the military hospital only once. Social insurance agency arranged a course of recreation and I went to a recreation center once. There is a governmental order that veterans of the war can go to recreation centers once a year for free and if they choose not to they can have monetary reimbursement, but the insurance agency explained to me that they receive smaller allowances with every passing year. They don’t have any reimbursement money and they don't have a possibility to send me to recreation center. Before the 50th anniversary of victory the veterans’ committee gave me two envelopes to mail greetings to my fellow comrades and a piece of butter for food package. In the past they had a store with lower prices for veterans of the war. Now it is an ordinary store and some prices are even higher than in other shops. People have become more aggressive and less sociable. In the past neighbors were like friends coming to see each other or share little things. Now, every one sticks to his cell caring only about how to survive. Nobody comes to see me and I do not go out. I cannot afford to have guests and, besides, everyone is busy doing their own things. My fellow comrades are gone. There are few of us left, but we hardly ever meet. The only pleasant thing is a nearby library where I go to borrow books.

After my wife, Elena died I live with Elena [grand daughter] and Yuri [son in law]. My daughters are good to me, but they cannot provide any significant support. I pray for them to be able to carry on. I have a sweet great-granddaughter Sasha, Michael’s daughter, born in 1994. We spend much time together taking a walk in the park and playing.

In recent years I’ve received assistance from Hesed: they deliver food packages to old people and sometimes they provide medications for free. There is also a recreation center where we can stay.  I am glad they care about us, old Jewish people. I celebrate birthdays of my close people and a calendar New Year. I haven’t turned to observing Jewish traditions or celebrating Jewish holidays since it is too late to change habits at my age. 

GLOSSARY:

Riva Belfor 
Kishinev
Moldova
Interviewer: Zhanna Litinskaya
Date of interview: July 2004

Riva Belfor lives in a nice two-room apartment in a district, constructed in the late 1970s. Riva is a very beautiful slender woman with huge dark-brown, expressive eyes. It looked like she was nervous and ill at ease. As it turned out she was worried about her daughter’s divorce and her immigration to Israel. Riva asked not to take her picture now, as she had changed a lot and grew old because of the latest events. It was a Saturday evening. The candles were burning out in the silver candlestick given to Riva by her relatives. Riva and her husband still observe Jewish traditions. When Riva started her story, her husband Boris, an impulsive, young-looking man, was surprised to find out that our conversation was private. He had to go to the next room. We could hear his exclamations. As per Riva’s request, Boris will be talking about his family himself. I could feel that Riva was the heart and soul of the family. She pampered her husband, who is in fact a big child.

My family background
Growing up
During the war 
After the war
Glossary

My family background

My paternal grandfather, Ihil Soifer, was born in 1860 in the small town Medzhibozh [about 300 km from Kiev], located in South-Western Ukraine [in 1860 part of the Russian empire]. This town is known for being the center of Hasidism 1 [the Jewish community of Medzhibozh is one of the oldest in Ukraine and until 1648 one of the largest in Podolia. The number of Jews grew to 6,040 (74% of the total population) in 1897, then fell to 4,614 (58.2%) in 1926. The community was destroyed after the German occupation in 1941]. My grandfather’s name means ‘a man, who rewrites the Torah’ in translation from Yiddish [Editor’s note: soifer or sofer (Heb.) is ‘scribe for holy books,’ a man especially trained for this holy task]. Men of his lineage were involved in this honorable and complicated matter from the ancient times. My grandfather fixed the Torah, wrote holy scripts, which were put in the tefillin and mezuzah. Apart from this craft, which was similar to the subtle art, Grandfather read the Torah and Talmud – all holy Judaic books and interpreted them. He discussed things that he read with the neighbors and acquaintances. He tried to live and to act in accordance with the Torah. He often told his kin how one was supposed to act in certain cases according to the doctrines of the holy books. In general he was a very religious and literate man. He got married at the age of 18 according to the Jewish rite [The Talmud recommends that a man marry at the age of 18, or somewhere between 16 and 24]. I didn’t know Grandmother Riva. All I know is that she gave birth to ten children, five sons one after another – Abram, David, Monya, Isaac and Jacob, and five daughters – Reizl, Dvoira, Basya, Sima and Lubov. All children got only elementary Jewish education. The girls were taught by melamed and the boys went to cheder.

In the 1910s the large Soifer family moved to Bessarabia 2 – either they were looking for a better living or trying to find shelter for their sons not to be drafted into the army. The peak of the drafting campaign was achieved in 1913, before World War I. All my grandfather’s sons were very religious and the army service was a kind of moral ordeal for them. Three sons – David, Monya and Isaac – found a solution: immigration to the USA. All of them were approximately of the same age – as they were born in the mid-1880s. Their first attempt was unsuccessful - they were arrested at the border and forced to return to Medzhibozh. But they didn’t change their minds and in 1913 they took another attempt and managed to leave for the USA via Hamburg [Germany], where they had to stay for a couple of months. Grandfather gave a bribe, which cost him a lot of money, to get a new passport for the name of Stiepelman so that the Soifers would vanish into thin air. 

So this is how it happened that the whole family acquired a new name: Stiepelman. Thus, my father and his siblings had that surname. The family moved to Kishinev [then Bessarabia, today Moldova, called Chisinau in Moldovan] and settled there in a rather nice house, purchased for the money acquired for the sold house. They got a husbandry – chicken and geese. Ihil kept on religious activity there. After Grandmother Riva passed away in 1929, Ihil got married shortly after her death – according to the Jewish tradition in grandfather’s words a man is not supposed to be alone [Gen. 2:18: ‘it is not good for man to be alone’]. I don’t remember his second wife’s name as they didn’t live together for a long time due to her death caused by some sort of disease. Reizl was grandfather’s third wife. She was his last wife. She was a comfort to my grandfather during the last stage of his life and was doomed like he was. In 1941 the Germans came to Bessarabia. Ihil didn’t want to get evacuated, so he died with his wife in Kishinev ghetto 3. It was a horrible death. Father told me that Grandfather was harnessed in the cart with a huge barrel with water and made to run until he fell dead, while the guards were mocking him. Reizl was shot shortly afterwards. 

My father’s elder brother Abram Soifer, born at the beginning of the 1880s, lived in St. Petersburg with his wife Basya and his children. He got married in Medzhibozh and then moved to St. Petersburg, finished some sort of vocational school. He was involved in commerce. I don’t know the details. Abram died in 1918 during the Civil War 4. I don’t know what happened to him exactly, but his wife Basya always used to cry when this subject was broached. He was killed by some gangsters, which at times came to Kishinev. I remember only Israel, Rahil, and Reizl out of the fourteen children of Abram and Basya. All of them are deceased. 

In America, father’s brothers David, Monya and Isaac changed their last name to Saper. The eldest brother David got married to a rich American lady, the owner of a large store, shortly after immigration to America. David got acclimatized very swiftly – soon he became proficient in English and was able to merge in his wife’s business and make it even much more prosperous. He had a good and worthy life. He never forgot where he came from and he sent money to Grandfather on a regular basis, and Grandfather in turn helped out the rest of the children. In 1939 David managed to come over to Kishinev to visit his kin. I remember how I was rapt by foreign chic – David, dressed in a morning robe, was sipping coffee from a demitasse. It was the last time I saw David. I never saw either his wife or any of his four children. I didn’t know that we didn’t keep in touch after the Soviet regime was installed in 1940 5. The Soviets, putting it mildly, didn't encourage people who had relatives abroad 6. David passed away in the mid-1950s. He died from cancer. 

Monya also became an entrepreneur in America. He started out from a small car repair shop. His business was gradually growing, making him rather well-off. He had a family, but I don’t remember the names of either his wife or his children. Monya died at an old age. before his death we were able to order a telephone conversation, so that Father would be able to hear his brother’s voice, whom he hadn’t heard for many decades. 

Isaac had a tragic fate. He had been a greengrocer all his life, selling plants in the street. His wife died in parturition, leaving a wonderful girl. Isaac had the nanny to raise the girl until she reached the age of seven. The lady didn’t give the girl back and the American court, where Isaac filed a claim against the lady, let the girl stay with the lady by ruling. Isaac was in courts for years trying to have his daughter back. The girl grew up, got a good education and became a lawyer. She saw her father a few times, but she never recognized him. Isaac died in the 1970s in solitude and indigence. I don’t know where David, Monya and Isaac were buried, or whether they were buried in accordance with the Jewish tradition. They were very religious people and it was likely that they were buried at a Jewish cemetery. 

Father’s elder sisters Reizl and Dvoira had fiancés before leaving for Kishinev from Medzhibozh. They didn’t want to walk away from their fiancés and soon got back to Medzhibozh. They got married there. I don’t remember the name of Reizl’s husband. He was killed by gangsters during the Civil War. Reizl remained with two sons – Solomon and Natan. Reizl, who was a housewife before her husband’s death, became a seamstress. During the Great Patriotic War 7 she was in evacuation with her children, somewhere in Central Asia, but she didn’t live long after coming back to her native city. Reizl died in the early 1950s, she was buried at the Jewish cemetery in Medzhibozh. In the 1970s her son Solomon immigrated to the USA with his family. He died there ten years ago. Natan, who is over 80 now, is alive and healthy. He has lived in Israel with his family since the late 1970s. Dvoira’s life is more or less prosperous. Her husband Veiner – I don’t remember his first name – was a successful vendor and lived with Dvoira until getting old. Neither Dvoira nor Reizl had to work. She died in1970 and was buried next to Reizl; the funeral of my father’s sister was carried out in accordance with the Jewish rites. I don’t know what happened with Dvoira’s daughters. They don’t keep in touch, and I forgot their names. 

Father’s younger sisters Sima, Basya and Lubov lived in Kishinev all the time. Sima, born in the late 1890s, was married off successfully. Her husband, Joseph Epelbaum, was a literate, well-educated and religious Jew. He was the secretary and the right hand of the Kishinev Rabbi Zirelson [Zirelson, Yehuda Leib (1860-1941): rabbi, member of the municipal council of Kishinev and its delegate to meetings with government authorities. He yearned for a Jewish state, based on Torah principles. He was killed in a bomb attack on Kishinev]. Joseph made good money and his family – Sima and five children – were well-off. His son – I don’t remember his name – died at the age of 18. His daughters – Mara, Shelya, Susanna and Bella – died at an old age. 

Joseph and his family managed to get evacuated in 1941, I think they were evacuated to the Ural. It was good that he hadn’t listened to Rabbi Zirelson who was talking him into staying in Kishinev. Joseph kept all the Jewish traditions and rites even in the post-war period and after returning to Kishinev. He died in 1961. He was buried at the Jewish sector of the city cemetery of Kishinev. [In the USSR city cemeteries were territorially divided into sectors. Usually all city cemeteries have common land plots, plots for burial of children, sectors for burial of the titled militaries, a Jewish sector, land plots of the political leaders etc. People were usually buried in accordance with the will of the relatives of the deceased or the testament.] Some elderly people recited the Kaddish over his grave. Sima passed away at the age of either 92 or 93, only Bella is alive and lives in Tel Aviv. Shelya lives in the USA. We don’t keep in touch.

Basya, born at the beginning of the 1900s, was married to a Jew, Vertman. I don’t remember his name. He worked as a salesman for some owner of a store.He didn’t make much money, but it was enough to make a living for his wife Basya and their three daughters – Rahil, Lida and Riva. Basya with her husband and children was in evacuation during the Great Patriotic War and returned to Kishinev when the war was over. She died at the age of 80 and was buried at the Jewish sector of the Kishinev city cemetery, next to Joseph. Lida is the only daughter who is alive now. She is currently residing in Israel. 

My father’s youngest sister Lubov, born in 1911, was married to a goldsmith, Aron Dorf. Her husband didn’t have Romanian citizenship and was exiled somewhere for salt processing. When the Soviet regime was established in Bessarabia he stealthily came back to Kishinev. Lubov lived in Kishinev with her sons, Buma and Haim, during that period of time. Their sons had a tragic fate. The younger son, Haim, died at the age of twelve in the train car on his way to the evacuation area. The elder brother, Buma, entered the Physics and Mathematics department of Kishinev University after the war. He ranked as a top student of his course. Buma drowned when he was passing a test in swimming. After Buma’s death, Lubov gave birth to a third son at the age of 41. He was given the name of Ilia, and was as handsome, intelligent and gifted as Buma was. He also entered the university. When his mother got severely ill he devotedly was looking after her. Aron was deceased by that time and Lubov accidentally threw away the jewelry box with precious things, which was stashed away by Aron. She wasn’t controlling herself at that time. After that she had an apoplectic stroke and died in hospital in 1967. Ilia couldn’t get over his mother’s death. In spite of the fact that he got married and had two daughters of approximately the same age, born with just one year difference, he was grieving over his mother’s death so much that he committed suicide. His wife and his daughters immigrated to the USA in the 1980s. 

My father Jacob Soifer, the youngest of the sons, born in the early 1890s, changed his name to Stiepelman. Father didn’t get any education. He even didn’t go to cheder. Grandfather Ihil was his teacher, and he gave all his knowledge to his favorite son. The elder brothers sent an invitation from the USA to my father. And when he decided to join his brother, Grandmother Riva said that she would commit suicide, if he left. He loved his mother very much, so he refused to go. He lived with my grandfather at that time and spent time studying and praying before he got married. He was not that young when he got married. It was a prearranged marriage. His wife-to-be was from the Moldavian [Moldova in Moldovan] 8 village Gura Galbeney. Her name was Haya Feurman.

My mother Haya Feurman came from a large family. She had nine siblings. They lived in the Moldovan village Gura Galbeney [which means Yellow Mountain in Romanian], 40 kilometers away from Kishinev. My maternal grandfather, Velvl Feurman, born in the 1860s, was the owner of a grocery store. Besides, he worked as an accountant for the forestry. Velvl was a highly qualified accountant. One of his job functions was to check the parts of the forest that he was responsible for. Grandmother Sosl was a housewife. She raised the children, did a lot of things about the house. My grandparents were rather well-off and respectable people. There weren’t very many Jewish families in Gura Galbeney. There were about 100 families in the village, and 10-15 out of them were Jewish families. Mother was a very sociable lady who kept in touch with Moldovans and Romanians. The Jews, Moldovans and Romanians had a mutual respect for each other and got along very well. There was a small synagogue in that village and the family went there on high holidays. There was also a cheder in the village. My maternal grandparents weren’t as religious as the paternal ones. They adhered to traditions, observed the kashrut and celebrated holidays, but they didn’t do it as devotedly and properly as my paternal grandparents’ family. Grandfather died at the beginning of 1940. 

I don’t remember the names of all of my mother’s brothers and sisters. I know for sure that they lived in small towns of Bessarabia. Almost all of them had their own families and children. I remember mother’s brothers Shmerl, Haim and Suher, who were drafted into the lines during the Great Patriotic War and were reported missing. Shmerl was a bachelor. Haim had a son. He lives in Israel now. Suher went through the war and survived. In the post-war period he lived in Kishinev. He got married and immigrated to Israel with his wife in the 1980s. Suher didn’t have children. He died in Israel. 

My mother’s eldest sister Hanna was married twice. She divorced her first husband, and her second one, Vasilkovkskiy, had died before the Great Patriotic War broke out. As soon as the war began, Hanna and her two children – son Milya and daughter Lubov – and Grandmother Sosl were evacuated. They went by train and on their way the echelon was bombed. Hanna, Grandmother Sosl and Milya died during the bombing. Twenty-year-old Lubov survived the bombing. She was found in the shambles of the train. Soviet soldiers took her to the hospital. When Hanna was discharged from the hospital, she attended nurses’ courses. Then she went to the front lines as a volunteer. Lubov was in the lines until the victory day. After the war she married a Jew, Shulim Herman, and moved to Western Ukraine, the city of Lvov [500 km from Kiev]. She had a hard life. Her husband was killed in a car crash and Lubov remained with her seven-year-old daughter. They didn’t have enough money to get by. Lubov worked in the hospital as a nurse. Her salary was skimpy, besides she was supposed to be on duty very often, but they managed to go through that hard period of their lives. Now they live in the United States.

Mother’s sisters Rahil and Leya lived in a village not far from Kishinev. Rahil married a lad, whose mother was a Jew and father a German. They didn’t evacuate in 1941. Rahil and her husband hoped that Germans wouldn’t touch them, but they were murdered by the occupants. Leya, her husband and three of her children also perished at the hands of the Fascists. I don’t know anything about the rest of my mother’s siblings. 

My mother Haya Feurman, born in 1895, and her other sisters were educated by a melamed. In spite of her being educated at home, she was a rather erudite person. Yiddish was her mother tongue. She was proficient in Russian and could read Jewish books in Ivrit [modern Hebrew]. Before meeting my father, Haya spent most of the time at home, read books and helped Grandmother about the house. It was considered that she was a spinster, as she was twenty-seven and still single. But my father wasn’t a boy either. A Jewish shadkhan made an arrangement for my parents to meet each other. Shortly after their acquaintance they got married. I don’t know the details of their wedding. All I know is that it took place in Kishinev in full compliance with Jewish rites: chuppah, Jewish music and numerous guests. 

My parents rented an apartment in Kishinev after their wedding. Grandfather helped them out for a while until Father had acquired a profession. Then father learned how to become a shochet. Every week he went to the small town of Khyncheshtch [since 1940 Kotovsk, 30 km from Kishinev], where the butcher who taught him lived. My parents didn’t stay in Kishinev for a long time, and moved to Khyncheshtch, looking for a job. The old butcher, my father’s teacher, sent all his clients to my father. Father became a very skilled butcher. He could cut poultry, and he also knew how to slaughter cattle. In every house we used to live, there was a shed where my father did his job. There were huge hooks where fowl was placed and there were tubs with straw or boxes with sand underneath for the seeping blood. Father was very hard-working. Not every Jew was able to pay my father for his job, but my father couldn’t leave a Jew without a kosher Sabbath chicken. That is why my father worked for free sometimes. Each Friday Father rented a cart to go to the villages, where at least one Jew was residing, to cut chicken for Sabbath. He didn’t want any Jewish family to remain without kosher chicken, but there were families, which couldn’t afford to buy a chicken, and my father came back home empty-handed. 

Father didn’t make much money, but it was enough for the family to get by. Mother was a wonderful housewife, coping with a lot of housework: baking fresh bread, cooking an apple pie, keeping a house in order and taking care of the children. In 1923 my sister Bluma was born, and the next year Rahil was born. My elder brother Motle was born in 1927. Then I was born on 10th September 1934, in the town of Khyncheshtch. I was named after my grandmother Riva. She was deceased at that time. [One of the most common practices is to name a child to honor a relative. Sephardic Jews name their children freely after both living and deceased relatives. However, Ashkenazim rarely name children after living relatives.]

Growing up

Shortly after I was born, Father found a job in the town of Resena [about 80 km from Kishinev], not far from Kotovsk, and our family moved there. I remember myself at the age of two, drinking wine. I was a mirthful and sociable girl. Once I saw Moldovans crushing grapes and dancing. I went in the circle. They gave me some wine to drink. I was dancing so hilariously that everybody burst into laughter. There is another recollection from early childhood, which is embossed in my memory. I remember that Mother taught us not to take anything that belongs to other people, no matter how hard our living was. One of our acquaintances, who was very rich, brought me a little white apron. I was so happy to get such a nice present, but Mother told me to give it back and said that we didn’t want anything that didn’t belong to us. 

I also remember my mother was expecting a baby. I was two, but I was fully aware that I wouldn’t be taken as much care of and I wouldn’t be loved so much when mother would give birth to a baby. It made me sad. The priest’s spouse was the midwife in Rezina and she delivered my mother’s baby. Mother was in the small bedroom, while Grandfather Ihil was making gefilte fish in the drawing-room. I was close to the Primus stove [a small portable stove with a container for about 1 liter of kerosene that was pumped into burners], inhaling a spicy aroma and expecting a delicious dish. Grandfather kept telling me to stay away from the stove. I didn’t understand why Grandfather was cooking fish on the Primus stove, because Mother always used to cook on the Russian stove 9 in our kitchen and used the Primus very rarely. When the cry of a baby was heard from the next room, my father and grandfather rushed there. Then I was shown a small puckered baby. Mother gave birth to a son, who was given the name of Haim. I liked him very much and I forgot all my apprehensions and jealousy. I still love my brother very much. In 1938 Mother gave birth to a girl, but she lived only for a couple of weeks and died.

I vaguely remember the town of Rezina. It was an ordinary Jewish town, where Jews peacefully coexisted with Moldovans and Romanians. I think there were about 500-600 yards in the town, and approximately half of them were Jewish. I remember the synagogue with the separate gallery for women. When Mother went to the synagogue, she took me there as well. She put my breakfast in a parcel: patties, grapes and apples. Usually she left me in the synagogue yard, where I played with other girls. At times we had to wait for a long time until our mothers were through with praying. We also shared food given to us by our mothers in parcels. 

My mother’s family wasn’t as religious as my father’s. Father was a very religious man. He even went to bed in a kippah. Mother also became religious, following Father’s example. She adhered to all the Jewish traditions. Mother covered her head with a dark kerchief, even in evacuation, where it was hard to get any fabric. Before Sabbath our house was thoroughly cleaned and festive dishes were cooked: chicken, challah, cookies, homemade kosher wine [wine made by a Jew from the grape that he planted himself], gefilte fish, all kinds of tsimes 10, beans cooked with sugar and cracklings. Challah was put on the table. Mother lit the candles, sang and read a prayer. Father recited the Kiddush. The kashrut was strictly observed. If there were two cauldrons in the house – one chipped with a knife, for it to look different and not to be confused with the other one, was used for milk, and the other one was used for meat. Knives, cutting boards, dishes and even rags were marked. If a knife fell on the floor on Pesach, it wasn’t used for the entire week. It was put in the earth and was supposed to stay there for a week. 

Jewish holidays were celebrated in our house. We got ready for the holidays beforehand. My father was a shochet. Besides he was a chazzan [back in the time, the chazzan was the head of the community prayer in the synagogue, later he was a cantor, a synagogue singer] in the synagogue, he sang prayers during the holidays. He was supposed to blow the shofar at the end of Yom Kippur. He rehearsed blowing the shofar in the summer before the fall holidays. My parents fasted on Yom Kippur. Father spent the whole day in the synagogue. I began fasting at the age of twelve. [Children under the age of nine don’t fast, then they start fasting little by little. Boys start to fast as long as adults do by the age of 13, girls from twelve.] 

I loved Sukkot very much. Father took some reed and made a sukkah in the yard. The attributes of the holidays – lulav and etrog – were sent from Kishinev. [Editor’s note: the Sukkot attributes are the so-called Four Species (arba minim): an etrog (a citrus fruit similar to a lemon native to Israel; in English it is called a citron), a palm branch (in Hebrew, lulav), two willow branches (aravot) and three myrtle branches (hadassim).] I liked to watch my father say a morning prayer in the sukkah, holding a palm branch and the fruit of the citrus plant Lyonus. After the holiday those plants were put in long boxes and kept for a year. We had dinner in the sukkah in the period of eight festive days, even though it got really cold in fall. 

We had a good time during holidays. My parents’ friends came to us. They were common Jews. We sang songs and danced. I had fun as well, as my parents’ friends used to bring their children with them. I enjoyed playing with them. We liked Chanukkah very much, as we were given presents and money. Purim was spectacular. People in the Jewish houses were cooking and baking all day long. At night they took a walk along the central street in Rezina, lit only by one lamppost, to bring shelakhmones from house to house. At home we gave performances, Purimshpil [traditionally at Purim parodies (Purim Shpil, Yiddish for Purim Play) are performed], and made hoaxes. 

Pesach was the most important holiday. Mother cleaned the house, scraped walls and whitewashed the stove. [The Passover cleaning, the mitzvah of biur chametz – getting rid of chametz – and other traditions described below belong to Pesach traditions according to halakhah.] New outfits and shoes were prepared for all children. There was a clean starched cloth on the table and snow-white napkins on our modest furniture. On the eve chametz was banished. Mother took bread crumbs, put them in a wooden spoon and buried them. [Editor’s note: the described proceeding refers to bedikat chametz, a formal search for chametz in the home, but with slight differences regarding the tradition.] 

Matzah was brought from the synagogue in a large hamper covered with a sheet. Pesach dishes were taken from the garret. Those dishes weren’t used for the entire year. Every child had his own. I was looking forward to getting my pink glass with the picture of a kitten, which was kept in the chest. My father, clad in white attire with a belt and a white festive kippah, was reclining on the sofa with the white cover, carrying out seder. [According to the Jewish tradition the eldest man in the family, the one who made Seder, was supposed to recline on something soft (usually pillows were used for that), which was the embodiment of relaxation and exemption from slavery.] My brother Motle asked him four questions about the origin of the holiday while I was looking for the afikoman. The festive Pesach dish was in the middle of the table. There were all dishes in accordance with the Haggadah. Besides, the table was abundant in Jewish dishes: gefilte fish, chicken strew, chicken broth and tsimes. The goblet with wine was placed on the table for Elijah ha-nevi. There was a certain paragraph in the Haggadah when people were supposed to open the door. We kept the door open until morning for Elijah ha-nevi to come to our house and drink wine. 

During the war 

In 1939 our family moved to Kishinev. There was a vacant position for a shochet. We rented an apartment. It was a small three-room apartment in a private house. There was a shed in the yard, where my father did his job. My elder brother Motle helped my father so he could learn from him. Motle had been prepared for religious activity since early childhood. He finished cheder, which was customary for the boys. Father and Grandfather Ihil spent a lot of time teaching him. My brother got ready for the rite of bar mitzvah. The rite was carried out by Rabbi Zirelson in the central synagogue. After that Motle was enrolled in a yeshivah, where very literate, educated and religious Jews taught, such as Zirelson and Uncle Joseph Epelbaum. 

My sisters didn’t get such a thorough education. The elder one, Bluma, was taught how to read and write by our parents. She thought it was sufficient for a girl like her. She was very good at embroidery since childhood. Later on she started taking orders and earned pretty good money. After finishing school, Rahil went to the technical school of the Tarbut school 11, one of those schools which prepared the youth for repatriation to Palestine. There were very many Zionist organizations in Kishinev, but I couldn’t join them because of my age and I don’t remember their names. 

Pro-Soviet and pro-Communist ideas were also disseminated. I remember how my father was inspired to talk about Russia. He was a real zealot of Soviet power, national equality, propagated by the Communists. Father tried to find out about Russia as much as possible. At that time the USSR was a political enemy to Romania and there was no information about Russia. Father had a friend – a Moldovan, a medical assistant – who also cared for the USSR. He had a radio, which was a rare thing for people of our circle. Father came to him and they used to listen to the news from Moscow surreptitiously. Of course, neither Father nor his friends knew the truth about the USSR, they knew nothing about arrests and repressions of the innocent people 12. 

Back in those times there were Fascist Organizations: followers of Professor Cuza 13, the so-called Cuzists 14, and the Legionary Movement 15. They advocated Fascist ideas of racial and nationalistic hatred and threatened the Jews. Kishinev Jews who survived the Pogrom of 1903 16, dreaded to think that it would recur. Fortunately it didn’t come to that, though anti-Semitism was felt in everyday life. One evening, when Father was on his way home from the synagogue, two gangsters, Cuzists, attacked him and hit him a couple of times, threatening to do away with him. 

On 28th June 1940 an event took place, awaited by many Jews and our family as well. The Soviet Army was marching along the streets of Kishinev in filthy tunics and dusty boots. It seemed to us that they were envoys from a wonderful country and my siblings and I were delighted to meet the soldiers. Then our life started changing, and it wasn’t for the better. First, almost all the products vanished from the stores. Mother complained about it to my father, but he kept silent. The worst things were to come – arrests and exile. The Soviet regime was after wealthy people first, we were safe, because we were not well-off. They were after the activists of the Zionist movement and religious Jews. Father didn’t work as a shochet, he was employed at the railroad department. Sometimes Uncle Joseph came to us in the evening and they were whispering about something. Joseph feared to be arrested even more than my father did. Neither he nor Zirelson were touched, maybe for the lack of time. 

In spring 1941 our family came back to Rezina. Father thought that it would be safer to live here. In the morning of 22nd June 1941 I was in bed, reading a book about Sergey Kirov 17 – by that time I could read in Yiddish and Russian. I was taught by my mother. We lived on the central square of the town. I heard some noise coming from the street. People clustered by the street loud speaker. They were listening to the broadcast very closely. Soon Father came home and broke the news about the commencement of the war. For ten days we lived as if nothing had happened. Some Jews left Rezina, others were on the point of leaving. There were also people, especially survivors from World War I, who were prone to think that Germans would do no harm to Jews. 

At the beginning of July, retreating Soviet troops went along the streets of our town. We were having lunch. My appetite wasn’t very good as it was very humid outside. Somebody knocked on the door. A handsome Jewish lad in the officer’s uniform entered the room. He asked Father to give him a pill for toothache. He went to the next room where Father was. Father rushed from the room in a second. He was really pallid. Father said that we would be leaving at once as Fascists were on their way. Probably the soldier told my father what had happened to the Jews on the occupied territories. It was on the 7th of July. We took off immediately without changing our clothes: my siblings, parents and I. We were at a loss. Mother didn’t even take the documents and the precious things: her and father’s wedding rings. Mother only took some money and Father took tallit and tefillin. When we went outside, a Romanian told my father: ‘Yanku [short for Jacob], where are you taking your caboodle, you won’t make it, let me hide you in my garret.’ But my father only shook his head and we left. 

We walked for a couple of days in the direction of Kishinev. We could feel the panic: the roads were crowded with people, besides they were moving in both directions – from and to Kishinev. Nobody understood where to go, and which road to take. Nobody was told what to do. It was humid and dusty. There was no place to bathe. In a day or two we started to itch, and when I took off my dress I was shocked: I was teeming with lice. I had noticed that it was the same with the others. Those insects always appeared when there was a calamity. 

When we came to Kishinev, the city was on fire. People were panicking and scurrying in all directions. We came to the train station. It was crammed with people, so it was next to impossible for us to take a train. However, luck smiled at us. One of my father’s pals called him. His family was on the open coal carriage. He helped us get there before the train left. We reached Tiraspol and changed the train. The fugitives were put on locomotives, which left for Rostov [today Russia]. Our trip lasted for about two weeks, we went through about 900 kilometers. We tried to get some food and water at the stations. The road was bombed. We were cold and hungry, sitting close to our mother like chickens by the hen. Once, Motle was about to miss the train. We got off the train on one of the stations to fetch water. Father got him on, when the train was starting off. 

In August 1941 we got off the train at the station Belaya Kalitva, not far from Rostov, which was about 1000 kilometers from Kishinev. We were met at the station very ceremoniously and warmly. We were given warm bread with honey, tea and milk. Then they took us to a kolkhoz 18. All evacuated people settled in the houses of the kolkhoznikovs [collective farmers]. We lived in the house of an elderly Cossack 19 and his wife. They treated us very well. We, the children, spent all day long outside in the orchard with apple and pear trees. We ate tasty melons and watermelons. Father and the elder children worked in the kolkhoz. Mother went to the canteen everyday, where she was given warm cooked food and bread. Everyday she brought a full can with food. Then, the cold and rainy fall came. Everyday Father and the host listened to the round-ups on the radio. One November day of the year 1941, the old man told my father that he heard in the news that the front lines were approaching and my father needed to move further to the East. 

And again we went on foot. It was cold. It was sleeting. The roads were crowded by retreating squads of the army and fugitives. On one of the junctions, a handsome Russian officer came to us. I was a pretty little girl at that time. He said to me, ‘My little daughter is wandering on the war roads just the way you are!’ The officer stopped the truck and ordered the driver to take us to Stalingrad. There were fugitives from other cities and districts. They were staying in the fields, and in the stadiums. It was December, but fortunately it wasn’t cold. We were starving. Father bought some rolls, sometimes he managed to get some warm soup. People got lost, and to find each other, they glued the announcements on the fences and on the walls of the stadium. Father wrote such an announcement as well, hoping that he would find somebody from our kin. Mother’s younger brother Suher found us with the help of that announcement. He was mobilized, he was waiting to be dispatched to the front lines. Suher brought a loaf of bread, some canned food and said good-bye to us. 

In about a week we crossed the Volga on a barge. It was horrible as the barge was bombed and people were pushing each other, forcing their way to the barge. We were lucky to get on the barge and stay together. On the opposite bank of the Volga we took a freight car and went to the East. And again we had to starve, being able to find food only at the stations. Sometimes at the substations we boiled potatoes, brought by compassionate local inhabitants. Once, the train was to start off, and Dad grabbed a bucket with under-boiled potatoes, so we had to eat raw and hard potato. Father prayed daily, sitting in the corner of the car and swaying from time to time. There were people of different nationalities in our car, and nobody hurt or offended us in any way. 

It took us six weeks to reach Tashkent [today Uzbekistan], and from there we were taken to the town of Namangan in Ferghana valley [about 3700 km from Kishinev]. For a couple of days we lived in a shed, previously used for fertilizers. There was a hearth in the corner, where women cooked food. There was a sulfur heap next to the fire and we were gasping for air from evaporation of sulfur. Suddenly an earthquake started. People rushed from the sheds half naked and barefoot and cried in panic. When the earthquake was over, the evacuated were brought to kolkhozes. 

We were taken to the kolkhoz Itiphok, which means Union in Uzbek. Houses weren’t heated; there was a hole in the corner of the room where we put cotton waste to warm the premises. My parents and elder sisters gathered cotton, and my brothers and I stayed at home. We were also given some work to do: they brought us unopened cotton bolls for us to work in the shed. Our nutrition wasn’t very good. Each family was given daily one glass of semi-rotten wheat or barley. We made porridge out of it. In spring 1942 Father was taken to the labor front 20. 

It was a very hard period for us. Mother was hypertonic, and was unwell rather often, she couldn’t work. We were famished. One rich Uzbek offered Mother money under the condition that I would marry him. I was only eight years old. Of course, Mother didn’t agree to that. She sent my brother and me to Kasansay [today Uzbekistan], where the family of Father’s sister Sima lived. Her husband Joseph was working at a tobacco factory as a book-keeper, and her daughters were also working. They lived comfortably, but there wasn’t enough food for everybody. My brother and I were sent to an orphanage, but we were even more hungry there than in the kolkhoz. At that time, Mother received a letter and a package from Father, who worked at a military plant in Chelyabinsk [today Russia]. Mother took us back. Our living was better when Father was sending us money and provision. We weren’t able to receive the money, as the Jewish postman embezzled it. At the end of 1943 Father came back. He demanded money that belonged to him, and he was given it. In evacuation and at the labor front Father observed Jewish traditions. He didn’t work on Saturdays, he worked on Sunday instead. On Friday he lit a candle. On Pesach he sold his bread ration and bought corn flour to make some scones similar to matzah. His comrades respected my father’s religious belief.  

After the war

At the end of 1944 Father took us to Chelyabinsk. We shared the apartment with one Russian woman. Father worked at the plant and when he had spare time he sawed felt boots. Our life was getting better. Then we were struck by sorrow. Late in the evening our neighbor rushed to us, screaming that our father was lying on the railroad. When he was brought home, it turned out that on his way from work, late at night, he was hit by the train and his leg was cut off. Father was in the hospital and came back with a crutch and an empty trouser leg. Father said that God had rescued him taking only one leg, not his life. He became a cobbler, working near the market. Since childhood he was good at it. Thus he made some money and we came back to Namangan. It was warm there. I went to school in Namangan. It was a Russian school and I became an excellent student within a year. Then Aunt Sima sent us an invitation from Kishinev. In August 1946 we came back to Bessarabia.

The city was devastated. We had to walk for a long time and finally we reached the house of one of Sima’s daughters, my cousin Shelya. Mother thought that we would be able to move to some of our relatives but then we understood that we shouldn’t rely on anybody as everybody had their own problems. Father on crutches went to look for lodging in the city. Some Russian lady was very sorry for him when he told her our story. She showed us an empty basement. We moved to the basement. We stayed there until 1956. There were two dark rooms and a corridor, where Mother made a kitchen. We were happy to have a roof over our heads. At that time many families were trying to find a shelter in the basements and sheds. Father remained a cobbler for a short time. There was a shochet in Kishinev, when we returned, but when he left abroad in 1946, Father was offered by the community to take the position of the shochet. Father processed a patent, equipped his working place and became a butcher again. Father worked for many years duly paying all taxes. He regained his footing when he came back to his favorite synagogue and became a chazzan. 

I went to school. After the Uzbek school I was admitted in the fourth grade. I stuck to Jewish traditions having been observed in my family since childhood even after I became a pioneer 21 and Komsomol 22 member. I had to conceal my true religious belief. During the first years of hunger we ate only mamaliga [polenta, crushed cornmeal]. Once I was treated to a tasty roll with a nice smell. It was during Pesach, I didn’t eat that roll and hid it under the bed. Of course, I had to throw it away as it got moldy. I remember once on Friday night my Ukrainian friend knocked on my door. She was a real Soviet person. Her father was the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs. The candles were lit in our apartment and I didn’t want to let Larissa in. She was persistent, so I had to open the door. She was surprised to see that our electric lamps were switched off and candles were lit. I said that our fuses had burned out, and when she told me to repair them, I said that only adults could do that. I don’t know whether Larissa guessed that we were celebrating Sabbath. She never even made a hint. I was friends with Larissa for many years. Both of us were sobbing when Stalin died [1953]. My parents were laughing at us. I think that at that time they understood that the great leader was responsible for all our tribulations. 

I finished school with the golden medal [with highest level of honors] and was supposed to enter the institute without taking exams [pupils that graduated with golden or silver medals had the right to enter the university only by passing entrance interview 23. That was the first time when I came across anti-Semitism. I applied for the Chemistry Department of Kishinev University. The dean said that I was supposed to take exams, because it wasn’t known where I was during the war and how I got my certificate. The director of my school, a Russian lady, stood up for me. She came to the dean and made him get me accepted the way it was supposed to be: without the entrance exams. I was a good student at university. I didn’t feel any inequality there, the atmosphere was rather pleasant. In those years Father was able to save some money and in 1956 he purchased a two-room apartment. In the end, we moved out of the basement. I got my diploma with distinction, which meant that I might expect the best positions after the mandatory job assignment 24. As a rule Jews didn’t get good jobs. I was sent to the city of Chernovtsi [today Ukraine] to teach chemistry. My parents didn’t want to let me go and Father found a way out with the help of his pal. He gave a bribe and I got a job at the chemical laboratory of the jewelry plant. It was my first job.

In 1958 I met a Jewish lad, Boris Belfor. We began to date and fell in love with each other. Boris introduced me to his parents and proposed to me. His father, Abram Belfor, born in a town close to Lvov [today Ukraine], moved to Bessarabia before the revolution [Civil War of 1917-18]. He was a hatter ‘s apprentice. He was married to a Jewish girl, Mintsa. Boris, the fifth baby in the family, was born Kishinev in 1932. The family of Abram and Mintsa wasn’t religious, but their children adhered to Zionist ideas. The eldest, Alexander [Jewish name Ziska], a convinced Zionist, left for Palestine at the age of 18. He lived in a kibbutz, where only Bessarabian Jews were. Alexander became a respectable man, got married. His death was tragic: he drowned in the sea in 1959. 

My fiance’s sister Broha Belfor joined an underground Zionist group [which wasn’t an organization; the Jewish youth just got together to talk about Israel, read Jewish literature, discuss the prospects of life in Israel], after coming back from the evacuation in Central Asia, where she was with her parents and younger brother. Broha, along with fifteen other women was arrested in 1950. She was sentenced to 15 years imprisonment and was released from prison only after Stalin’s death, in 1956. Broha got married and left for Israel. Now Broha Basman lives in Israel. Boris’s elder brother Nusim perished in Königsberg [today Kaliningrad in Russia]. His second brother Moishe lived in Kishinev. He was a common worker.

By the time of our acquaintance Boris had served the full term in the army, which was two years at that time, and graduated from the Lvov Polygraphist College. He was an extramural student of the Ukrainian Polygraphic Institute. In 1958 we got married. In spite of the fact that we both were Komsomol members, we had a traditional Jewish wedding. A chuppah was placed in the yard of Uncle Joseph Epelbaum. The rite was carried out by him. Then the crystal goblet was broken, Klezmer music was played. All our relatives and friends had fun.

By that time my sisters Rahil and Bluma were already married. They married the Gershengolts brothers. Bluma’s husband Motle worked as a salesman in Kotovsk [former Khynchenshtch]. Bluma worked as an outworker knitter. She died in 1988. Her son Vladimir lives in Kishinev, and her second son, Boris, lives in Israel. 

Rahil’s husband Mehl Gershengolts was also involved in commerce. He built a nice private house in Kishinev where he lived with his wife and daughters – Sonya, and Edit. Rahil died rather young, in 1968. Her husband and children left for Israel. The daughters are currently residing there.

My eldest brother Motle worked as a foreman after finishing vocational school. He also immigrated to Israel with his family –wife Sofia, children Anna and Yuri. Motle died at the beginning of the 1990s. His children are currently residing in Israel. My younger brother Haim was involved in commerce after finishing school. He got married and immigrated to Israel in 1990 with his wife and daughters. He and his daughter Irina are currently living in Israel. 

In 1958, after our wedding we moved to Rahil’s house. We were given a separate room there. In 1959 I gave birth to a girl. Our daughter was given thename Zinaida, after the recently perished brother of my husband, Zinka. We got an apartment in a couple of years. We still live in this apartment. We had a good life. My husband worked as a chief engineer of the large typography house. Soon I went to work there as a chemistry expert-production engineer. We made pretty good money and we had a lot of friends at work. We celebrated Soviet holidays together, took part in festive demonstrations in spite of the fact that the Jewish traditions ands holidays were a major priority to us. 

I cannot say that we had a luxurious life, we didn’t have a car or dacha 25, but we had enough money for food and recreation. Almost every year we went to the seaside spas. We also went to the theaters, cinemas. Sometimes, we went to the restaurants with friends. We enjoyed reading. We had a full-fledged life. I went on business trips to large cities rather often. I went sightseeing there, attended museums and theaters. Our daughter was nurtured in kindness and care. My mother helped me raise a good daughter, a true Jewish lady, who observes traditions. 

My parents lived in the same two-room apartment, purchased by my father. In 1975 Mother passed away. Father died in 1983, eight years after mother’s death. They were buried in the Jewish part of the cemetery in compliance with the Jewish rites and traditions. Unfortunately, Uncle Joseph, who carried out all the Jewish traditions in the family, didn’t conduct the funeral rites, as he died in 1961.

Zinaida finished school, then the Economics Faculty of the Agricultural Institute. She was married to a Jew called Vadim Donets. They lived together for many years. In 1983 my granddaughter Marina was born. My daughter fell in love with an Israeli citizen and divorced her husband, when her daughter came of age so she could understand her. Zinaida left for Israel a year and a half ago. She has a happy marriage. She lives in Haifa. Marina lives in Kishinev with her father. She entered the university. Marina came to Zinaida for a visit. 

I am suffering because of the collapse of my daughter’s family, though I shouldn’t. Everybody is free to choose his own fate. I regret not leaving for Israel, when our relatives and acquaintances were leaving. We were afraid that we wouldn’t be able to find a job. Besides, we had a good life in Kishinev. Now we go to Israel on a frequent basis. We are considering immigrating to Israel.

We have always observed Jewish traditions: lighting Sabbath candles and celebrating all holidays. The synagogue was always open in Kishinev and Jewish traditions never ceased. Now after the breakup of the Soviet Union, independent Moldova created conditions for national revival making Jewish life more active. We are community and Hesed members 26. We attend different events, Jewish performances, read Jewish newspapers. Along with other community members we come to the monument of Holocaust victims, built at the place of the shooting of Kishinev Jews. Grandfather Ihil and his wife Reizl died there as well. One of the positive things brought by perestroika 27 is the revival of Jewish life. But it is not enough. I am missing the huge Soviet Union, where I could go to any city with historic sites, where I felt needed by people, where I could meet my friends. Now I am not needed by anybody, but my husband. Maybe I am just getting old.

Glossary:

Roza Benveniste
Athens
Greece
Interviewer: Alexis Katsaros
Date of the interview: May 2007

Roza Benveniste was born in Thessaloniki in 1919. She lives in an apartment in the center of Athens. She is a woman that is involved in many activities such as working as a volunteer at the Jewish Museum of Athens three times a week. In addition, she is a woman of many talents since she speaks five languages fluently and is a talented painter. Her artwork decorates most of the walls of her warm home.

Family background

Growing Up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

Family background

About my great-grandparents I know very little. My paternal grandfather was still alive when I was born. He was a money-exchanger. He originated from Larissa where he lived for most of his life. My grandmother was a quiet old lady with whom we didn’t have much contact. My grandparents spoke to each other in Greek and in Judeo-Spanish 1 but with a Greek accent.

My family was quite cosmopolitan and didn’t wear traditional clothes, with the exception of one of Mother’s aunts. She came to visit every now and then and she used to bring us the traditional tajicos 2 made from dough.

My father’s parents had settled in an apartment in Thessaloniki. I remember we used to go on Saturday night to listen to my grandfather say the prayers. He didn’t leave the house often, so I don’t think that he attended the synagogue. I don’t know anything about their life in Larissa.

I didn’t meet my maternal grandfather, so I don’t know much about him. I met my maternal grandmother, Belissia, who was very nice and used to tell us stories all the time. I am afraid that she died because of me. I had a cold one day and my mother couldn’t stay with me because she had to go to a funeral. My grandmother looked after me instead and she caught my cold. A little while later she died. She didn’t have a house; she used move around between the houses of friends and family. Everyone loved her very much and when she died my father mourned greatly. They had a very good relationship. I remember Father used to joke with her all the time.

My mother didn’t know Greek, we taught her the language. Her reward to us was to buy us ice-cream from the ice-cream man who used to come around the neighborhood. My mother had lived for a long time in Paris, where a cousin of hers used to live. She knew French very well and used to wear long green dresses.

My father had gone to Paris to learn couture for men’s and women’s clothes. At some point he returned to settle in Thessaloniki. My mother had come back from Paris with a European style. They met at a dance. My mother was wearing one of her long dresses. When my father saw her he was very impressed. My father was a quite short, while my mother was a stunningly beautiful woman.

My mother used to read a lot, but my father didn’t have much time for reading. She read mainly literature and newspapers, in French and Spanish; she was able to read Greek only later.

There were many Greek newspapers in Thessaloniki, and some where in Judeo-Spanish, written in Latin characters. There were newspapers in Rashi 3 and newspapers in French like Le Progrès 4, L’Indépendant 5.

My father owned a shop called ‘Com fete’ that sold clothes and trench coats. The shop used to have the nickname ‘The Trench Coat Source.’ My father was a very difficult man. He was very strict. He wanted the towels to be very well ironed, and if they weren’t he would say, ‘What is this?’ in an angry manner. When I think of what we had on the table everyday… We had to have a variety of salads as well as boiled vegetables that weren’t very common at the time, like greens.

Because my father originated from Larissa, my mother’s relatives made fun of him. They were ‘a la Franca’ [of French culture] and knew their French etc. I remember one time on his birthday, one of my mother’s sisters brought him a bouquet of fresh carrots and celeries. He was the only one in the whole family who used to eat raw vegetables just like that. All the others were very refined.

My father always kept a note pad next to his bed. This way, if he remembered something during the night he would make a note of it. These notes were the duties of each of his employees, for the next day. In the morning one of his employees would come from the house to pick up the notepad and take it to the shop.

Before the war he had established a shop that was very original, with goods from Paris. He had brought machines from Paris to waterproof the trench coats. We had a room in the house where he would store the coats while they were being made. He worked with agencies around Greece and he had a contract with army officers’ cashiers. The officers would shop at my father’s shop.

My father attended a Jewish school and he knew Hebrew and Rashi. In fact, I have a card of his written in Rashi. He would travel to France for medical treatment because he had asthma.

My father wasn’t very religious, he always worked on Saturdays. Our food was kosher anyway, because we bought the meat from the Jewish butcher. My father would go to the synagogue only on religious holidays. I don’t know anything about his personal political views.

We spoke in Judeo-Spanish and in French in the house. The Greek language entered our house much later.

We were a very large family so we didn’t have much contact with other Jewish families.
Thessaloniki was the only city where the majority of the population was Jewish. I was born two years after the Great Fire of 1917 6. Many Jewish buildings and synagogues were ruined by the Great Fire, and many were emigrating. Even though many synagogues had burned down during the fire, quite a few remained. There were many small ones, because it was forbidden for a synagogue to be any bigger than its nearest mosque. There was Beith Shaul synagogue in the posh area of Las Campagnas or Exohes, which was a very luxurious one, but there were many other smaller and simpler ones.

I remember Thessaloniki full or trams. I used to go to school by tram.

In my neighborhood we had only one rabbi. We lived in a mixed area where both Jews and Christians lived together. An Armenian doctor lived right opposite and I used to play with his son.

We were one of the first houses to get a radio. I remember it was huge and it came in many pieces. We were also first to get a bath that could be heated up with wood. The water would go through the stove and hot water would run in the bath. We used to bathe in the bath, not simply shower.

The house was heated by a cast iron stove. It was painted outside in a pale color with golden ornaments, and it stood in the corner of the living room. There was a space inside that could be used as an oven. I was very sensitive to the cold, so I would sit on my knees next to the stove with my book on top of it. My father however, couldn’t stand it and he would shout to open the windows and get some fresh air.

The staircase to our house led up to a large tiled entrance hall. We lived in a detached house. On one side of the entrance hall there was the door to the living room and on the other a large door to the kitchen where there was also a big window looking out on the garden. The kitchen also had fireplace where we would cook, which was common at the time. We would light the fire under the fireplace where there was also a place to boil clothes. We had a lady coming in help with the washing whom we used to call Miss de Colada.

We had a housemaid who lived in our house. Since we were Jewish, naturally we had a Jewish maid. The maids usually came from neighborhoods like ‘151’ 7.

We would wash our clothes with lye, which was the ash that we gathered from the fireplace. We would hang them to dry in the courtyard. These clothes smelled so wonderful.

There was a corridor from the kitchen leading to the toilet and the bathroom. At the end of this corridor were the dining room and living room. Our veranda was quite large and it was the place where we spent most of the summer. We didn’t sit in the living room very much. We usually sat in the dining room because the radio was there. From the living room there was one small corridor that led to my parents’ room and to the room I shared with my brother. They later split my brother and me up, and I moved to the room opposite.

There was a coal stove in the dining room which had a large stove pipe, and another one in the living room. We had a brass brazier which my father loved. We used to put small pieces of coal in the brazier and close the door at night, and in the morning, when we woke up, the room would still be warm. We didn’t have heating in the bedrooms. I remember my father, first thing in the morning he would wake up and go to break coal in small pieces. The brazier was wooden and had a brass can and I have a very faint memory of it.

We had a garden outside the house which also had a greenhouse. We didn’t grow anything inside the greenhouse; we used to put all the plants inside in the winter so they wouldn’t freeze. Later, the Germans put pigs in there. They even took the shutters when they left.
We weren’t a very religious family, and didn’t go to the synagogue very often. My mother was a ‘libre penseur’ – a free thinker. Of course we celebrated the religious holidays. I had this teacher at my uncle’s school who taught us the Haggadah, the whole story from the time of our exodus from Egypt. We never really learned it because we would just repeat everything without paying much attention to it.

The Zionist issue was quite big at the time of my birth. There where many unions like the AJJ Association Jeunes Juifs 8. They had given out these boxes and every month they would come around the houses and collect money which was sent to Palestine to buy land from the Arabs that they didn’t cultivate. The earth had become so sterile. After some time, when the Arabs realized what was going on, they raised the prices much higher. With these savings is how Israel was created. I would put all the change from the shopping in the box.

Growing Up

There were even more serious and dynamic unions like the one of Theodor Herzl 9 and some others more fanatic. I only remember the two unions that I just mentioned; I was a member of Theodor Herzl’s. We didn’t really have any specific political beliefs. We would gather, chat, and dance. It was a way for us to meet and hang out together. Sometimes we would even go on daytrips. I didn’t get to go to many places, because I was quite young and I got married very young too.

There were many Jewish schools which were founded by Alliance Israelite Universelle 10. They had founded schools everywhere. There were also many schools from different nations in Thessaloniki, like the German school, the American and the Italian. When I was very young, I went to a kindergarten that a cousin of my uncle owned. This uncle had a school for Jews only. The others had schools for their own people. There were so many Jews in the city anyway.

My uncle’s school was called the Ecole Franco-Allemande, because he taught French and my other uncle taught German. My uncles’ school offered a high level of education. With this knowledge I took exams and got my degree from the Lycée Francais.
At my uncles’ school, we were taught Hebrew. We didn’t really learn the language, but we learned some prayers that I can still remember. Then they thought that this wasn’t a very efficient way of teaching, so they got us a teacher from Israel who taught us literature and another one who taught us Rashi – that is the Judeo-Spanish written from left to right. I learned English at Anatolia College 11.

I didn’t learn Greek properly, because at my uncles’ school we didn’t really learn Greek, and after, at the Anatolia American College, we did everything in English, which was good because we practiced the language more this way.

The American school was mixed. It was for girls only but it had girls from a variety of different nationalities. There were many foreign students in the school who lived in the dormitories inside the school. One girl was from Albania, another one from Turkey whose name was Talat. The headmistress was called Miss Morel. We had two Armenian girls, whose fees were lower because of how they had been treated by the Turks. The girls who lived in the dormitories helped out in serving the food and many other tasks.

I didn’t live in the dormitories. I was with four Greek Christian girls and the Abbot sisters. I was also with two Jewish girls. I don’t know what happened to the one of them, but the other one married Molho, who had the bookshop in Thessaloniki. One of the Christian girls was Eugene. She was a very close friend of mine who had an old mother and no father. I heard that during the occupation she was taken to Germany. Why she was taken to Germany I still wonder.

Most of my schoolmates had gone to another school first like the Lycée Francais. My uncle’s school shut and I went straight there too; I was the youngest one in the school. We had a great teacher at school who taught Ancient Greek in translation and I was a very good student of his. He had this Olympian look to him, with blue eyes and a big forehead. We were all crazy about him. He had written schoolbooks and was very educated.
In our free time from school, we would meet for tea. We would invite boys for tea and they would invite us too. In our last year the girls who were one year younger than us invited us for tea to bid us farewell. They even made up these lyrics for us. The one about me said: ‘Here comes Blondie Roza with her serious ways but she is also a coquette; now she is full of sorrow because she will miss the president’s position.’ I was the president of the school when I graduated.

It was a tradition for the graduates’ class to go on a trip to Athens in order to visit the ancient sites. The Abbot Sisters had contacts with embassies and ambassadors and they had this idea that we could go to Italy. ‘How are we going to go to Italy,’ I asked them, and they replied that we would write a letter and send it to the embassy. So we did, and waited for their answer. As all this happened in 1938, the answer took a long time to come, so we had already gone to Athens. But when we came back, arriving at Thessaloniki’s harbor, our headmistress was waiting there for us and said, You know, Roza, there is a letter for you from the Italian Embassy.’

The letter we had written said how much we admired Italian art, which we had been taught about at school, and that we would like to see the originals. So they replied, accepting our request, and so we could go. They explained where we would stay and that we would have 75 percent off on all train tickets around the country. Basically, we would pay for the trip, but for wherever we would go the youth union would receive us.

Some of the girls didn’t have enough money for this second journey. We all needed to exchange money and with Metaxas 12 at the time, it was very difficult because he wouldn’t allow any exchanges. We split in two groups: one to find who would exchange money and the other to convince our headmistress to find an escort to take us. Because, how else would girls travel on their own especially all the way to Italy? It was unthinkable.

So I would go to the headmistress and each time I thought that I had managed to convince her, she would come up with some excuse, not to find us an escort. The other girls went to the banks but they didn’t manage to exchange any money. At some point one of the banks’ employees said to the girls: ‘But girls, aren’t you from the American School, don’t you have dollars on the side?’ So we managed to exchange some money. In the end the Abbot Sisters found an older girl whom they persuaded to escort us.

We went on the ferry boat from Thessaloniki’s harbor with the Tsiteris company. We had arranged with the company to take care of our mail to our families too. So we got to Brindisi or Bari, I don’t remember which. But no one was waiting for us there, not even a reception group, nothing. Our escort took charge and she found a solution. We went to Milan, Lago di Como and Venice. The day that we arrived, Mussolini 13 was also in town and we would joke and say that they were expecting us.

It was common in the films in the cinema to watch Venice with the gondolas and the couples in love kissing, on them. As I was a young girl at the time, this is the image that I had. I felt quite the opposite when I was there because they had nothing to do with the image that they projected in the films. At some point I stopped and said, ‘This is the gondola that I want.’ So the girls turn around to me and say, ‘But this one looks like a hearse, its all with black and white.’ I hadn’t noticed that it was actually black and white as it was richly decorated and that’s what had dragged my attention most.

In Rome, they showed us around and took a picture of us for the local newspaper. Florence was the city that made the greatest impression on me with its aristocracy.

My mother would shut me in the house around Easter time. There was a greater anti-Semitic wave during those days. This story was that I, being Jewish, killed poor Jesus so they had to kill me too. After Easter they would forget it again and everything would go back to normal. We would all hang out together.

The first time that I actually felt so bad that I was Jewish was on this trip to Italy. We had gone to Rome and many students had come to show us around the city and one of them who was closer to me and was showing the city to me says to me at some point, ‘See this shop? It was owned by a Jew and now we took it over.’ So I instantly asked him why, and he replied, ‘Because now they are ours.’ So I turn back to him and with no shame what so ever I reply, ‘I am Jewish.’ ‘Oh,’ he says, ‘we want Jewish women; we want them in one and only one way though…’

That was the first bite that I ever felt, the first sense of what was about to follow. From that moment, I started being homesick. I described the incident to the girl who was escorting us and she said that it was forbidden from now on, to tell anyone else that I was Jewish.

I didn’t have a lot of free time, because I was having private piano lessons, phonetics, music, painting, and these paintings over here [the interviewee is pointing at the paintings in her living room, which she drew] I did.

I had an art teacher, Miss Zukofki. I thank God for the good teachers he has given me. She was from Belarus, and her husband was an army general. The tsar baptized him. While she was in Thessaloniki she taught at the Lycée Francais. She would come to my fathers’ shop to buy clothes for her husband. At school I really liked to take a piece of paper and make portraits of my schoolmates. My father took my drawings and showed them to her, and she told him that I had a talent, so she started coming home to teach me. She taught me drawing and pyrography [art of decorating wood or other materials with burn marks by applying a heated object.]

I made a small shovel with its brush like the ones we have for the table, on top of which I had put some leaves. I also made a few things from leather. I liked them very much and so did the Germans because they took everything that we had left in the house. I made this board, which was a basket with strawberries, and it was a very successful piece.

There was a shop in the market, which belonged to Mr. Bourzopoulos, who everyone liked very much, and all his fabrics were imported from other countries. We were well known. Madam Cohen with Miss Cohen, Mrs. Vital Cohen. I didn’t go out to the market because the boy would come and pick up from the house to take to the seamstress anything we needed. At the time they wouldn’t even let me carry a single box.

My mother would give the shopping list to my father every Thursday. If she needed anything extra in the week she would buy it from the salesmen who would come around the neighborhood with their carriages of fruit and vegetables. Some of them we knew for years. At the time, the okras we would buy from Gypsy [Roma] ladies coming round, and they would come to the door and show us big bags full of okras. They where quite small in size, and they would sell them by the piece. They were so delicious. One of the grocers would come by and shout out the name of my mother. This is how well we knew them.

I had an older brother, Alberto, who was born in 1916, and whom we nearly lost during the mobilization because he was acting as if he was going to save Greece on his own. All of a sudden they came and took them and put him in a hospital that had a wing where they treated malaria patients for free. It wasn’t very much like a hospital, it didn’t have any medicine and he kept saying to everyone to be patient.

When my brother got married, he didn’t want to stay here and hide, so he and his wife decided to escape to Israel through Turkey. Silly of him, he took some gold liras with him and hid them in his boots. But he didn’t wear those boots; instead he had tied them up at the sack that he was carrying. The guy they had paid to take them took the money, took them to the island of Evoia and told them to wait there. A boat was supposed to come to pick them up. They waited and waited, but the boat wasn’t coming, so they understood that he had fooled them.

They started searching for another captain to ferry them over to the other country. They found someone, who took on his boat as many people as he could. But when they sailed, he realized that the boat was overloaded so he took the luggage and threw it one by one into the sea without saying anything to anyone. This way my brother lost his boots and his money with them, and even if someone found them they wouldn’t have known that money was hidden in them.

Eventually he got to Turkey with his wife, completely penniless. Luckily, there was an organized welcome by the Jews of Israel, then Palestine. The Turkish Jews took care of them and sent them to Palestine, where Jews already had set up their unions and they where trying to build their own army and create their own state. They took my brother as a postman. He later had two girls. A whole community of Greek Jews later on settled there.

My brother Albert fell in love with a girl that wasn’t of our class, you could say, but because he had gone through so much by then, and we thought we might lose him, we didn’t make a fuss about it. In the meantime there was the war going on, so we wouldn’t pay attention to such details.

His wife was the only one that didn’t go to the concentration camps. She was saved by her family. Her younger sister had gone to the concentration camps and came back, but unfortunately, due to the beating, she was deaf when she came back. I know that she later went to Israel, but I don’t know whether she is still alive or not.

My husband Rene came from Kavala [city in North-East Greece] and he had lost his mother and sister to World War I. They didn’t have a refuge, so the whole family was together, but I don’t know where. Anyway, when they got in, my husband hid in the corner. His father went to take him from the corner to be with the rest of the family. At that moment a bomb fell and all the others turned into ashes, and only the two of them survived. His father Nisim married a relative of his mother Siniorou, with whom he had a son named Pepo, and so my husband had a new brother. My husband came to Thessaloniki with his father and brother.

My husband worked in Thessaloniki, and his father knew an uncle of mine of whom my grandmother used to say, ‘I gave birth to all my children, but this one I must have taken from Paris.’ He really was ‘sui generis.’ He was very cheerful.

He would get up in the morning and sing his songs. One day the two of them went out in Thessaloniki to play billiard. So my uncle asked him if he was planning to get married or not. He said, ‘Yes, but I have to find a good girl.’ So my uncle told him, ‘I have a niece; I will introduce her to you.’ By the way, I really disliked things like that. I had contacts with other Jews from Unions, but nothing was happening there.

I had an aunt, Mathilde, who was one of my mother Flora’s sisters. She was more modern, and sometimes we would go out together to the cinema to watch a movie. One day she comes and tells me about this good movie that was playing in the cinema, and whether I would like to go. So I say, ‘Yes, let’s go.’ It was a cinema by the seaside; it doesn’t exist anymore.

So while I am ready to go out, my mother starts off at me saying how am I going to go out with this coat? I started getting a bit worried, because she was acting strange. I had many clothes that were assorted with their hats, as it was unthinkable for a lady to go out without a hat.

My aunt came to pick me up, and supposedly because it was a nice day, we went on foot. The weather wasn’t so good, but I accepted. On the way, she started telling me about this guy, so I started introverting, and I was thinking, who knows what he is like. So we get to the cinema and they weren’t there yet, which really surprised me. They came in after the movie had started, and my aunt waited until the movie had ended and the lights were on, in order to speak to them.

After the lights were on, we decided to walk back home, even though it wasn’t a very good night. The walk from the White Tower to the house wasn’t very long, but at the time it was very dark at night in Thessaloniki because there weren’t many lights, and we could hardly see each other. Any time that there was light on the way, you could see both our heads turning just to catch a glimpse of each other.

I was quite upset with my mother, who hadn’t told me anything about it. So when I came back home, she asked me how it went. ‘Fine,’ I reply and so does my aunt. My mother wanted to learn more, so she got my aunt and started asking her. ‘It went well,’ she said again.

On his side, he was trying to make up ways so we would meet again. He started being friendly with my brother and the three of us would go out together. One day he says to my brother, ‘Hey Albert, why don’t you leave now because we have a few things to talk about,’ and this is how our relationship moved on. Later, I got ill and he sent me so many flowers and cakes and then phone calls and everything, but he wouldn’t dare to come around the house.

Once he rang his father in Kavala and said to him, ‘Bring your wife and come to Thessaloniki because I am getting engaged.’ His father thought that he was joking at first, so he told him again and said that he was not joking and told him who he was going to get engaged to, his friend’s daughter. And then he believed him. We had our engagement at his place and we kept an open house for three days.

The ring, as you can see, had a different setting, but at some point, when we were staying in Switzerland, there was a huge dog where we were staying. One day, when we came back from our walk, the dog jumped on me and ruined it. They felt very bad; it was made from onyx, so they took it to their goldsmith to have it fixed. At another point, I lost that stone too. My husband had an obsession with the pendulum with which you can find water or metals. He read a lot about these things.

We lived in a house in Kalithea [suburb in the south of Athens] where there was a small room from which you could go through some small stairs to the maid’s house. I went up there one day to get a mattress and as it seems the little teeth that were holding the stone opened wide and it broke. My husband took this thing and started looking everywhere for the missing rock. He says, ‘It is over here,’ and there it was. My mother and my brothers-in-law were making fun of him, until he found it where he said it would be.

We got married at the Matanot Laevionim 13, which was an organization that gave food to poor children and a synagogue at the same time, and they did weddings. Things started looking quite ugly. Initially, we were going to leave for abroad, but Metaxas wouldn’t allow people to exchange any money, so we went to Athens and from there to Corfu. There my father sent us to one his agents, Mr. Dede, in order to help us out. We stayed in a hotel in Kifissia when we were in Athens, one that still exists.

When we got to Corfu, the first night we stayed in a hotel and the second one we went out to find Mr. Dede to help us out. We got our coach and went there, but first my husband went to check if they were there and if they would take us in. I waited outside. My husband rang the door and a little while later he came down with a fat lady, who came straight towards me to hug me and said, ‘Roza my child, you came back?’ I thought that she was crazy. Anyway, she kept hugging me and wouldn’t let me go.

There was a tripod there, as you entered, which had a painting and it had written something underneath, which I think was ‘Et rose elle a vécu ce que vivent les roses, L'espace d'un matin.’ [Editor’s note: Famous line from the poem Consolation a Duperier by French poet, critic and translator Francois de Malherbe (1555-1628)] They had married quite old, and they had a little girl, who they named Roze, and who died very young. She thought that her girl had come back.

I couldn’t tell her anything while I was there. I had everything I asked for. She would come by the hotel every morning and ask me what I would like to do. It was a very moving situation. Her husband was called Sabbie, and they both had this rhythmic accent like the Italians do.

They had a bone fan, and accidentally I said I really liked it, so they gave it to me straight away. After that I was very cautious of what I was saying. Many times, I look at the pictures and I wonder what on earth happened to all these people.

During the War

I got married young and I wasn’t a great housekeeper, but my mother was. I came to Athens with my husband in 1939. We stayed in Kallithea, near the Sivitanidio School [Public School of Arts and Crafts]. It was convenient for my husband because it was easy for him to get the train to Piraeus where he worked. The Commerciale [tobacco company] was located in a large field where a big hospital of Piraeus is now. I was already five months pregnant.

After the ship ‘Elli’ was sunk [the sinking of the ship ‘Elli’ precipitated Greece entering WWII], they called my husband and all his class for retraining. At some point I wanted to see what my husband was doing so I went to Kavala and met with him between two alarms. After that I returned to Thessaloniki to be close to my parents.

That day we were all at home, my husband was about to leave for his retraining when the phone rings. It was the Head of General Staff who called my father to tell him that we were invaded by the Italians and to warn him to take measures. My father woke us up and told us what was happening. So we took what we could, whatever we could take from the whole place. We also made fabrics with gold liras sown into them that we put around our waist, so in case we split up, each one of us would have some money on him.

My father rang one of my mother’s sisters’ husbands, who he had a good relationship with, to warn him too, but he couldn’t understand what my father was trying to tell him on the phone, so he told him that they would speak the next day. He was a wood trader.

My father had great foresight and, othr than all of us, he also saved another fifteen relatives, by paying a man to go and pick them up by car and take them to Athens. My brother was so single minded that all the employees of my father had moved to serve in Athens, and my brother wouldn’t allow this and was doing his army service as designated. He had forbidden my father to get in the middle. When he got ill and my father found out, he got someone to go and bring him back. Before he went to the army, he was a fearless man. Because of his illness, he got so thin that he came back half his weight.

In the meantime my brother was in love with a girl in Thessaloniki who wasn’t really of our class, which wasn’t acceptable in those days. Her name was Stella, and at some point she came to Athens to get married. We couldn’t afford to have a proper wedding reception, but our parents invited everyone for dinner, and one of the ministers’ assistants was invited there too.

My mother had kept her long dresses for receptions and formal dinners so she thought, since it was her son’s wedding, it would be nice to wear one. She had this stunning brooch with rubies and diamonds that she wore it with.

Anyway, the minister assistant, when the war started, told Father to go and stay around his place. By that time our house was under requisition because of its position, next to Sivitanidio, and they had sheltered doctors there because they didn’t have enough houses to put them. Our house was built by a Greek-American lady and it was very comforting and modern. We used to ring the bell that was in the living room for the maid, and our parents would think that it was someone at the front door, and we would joke around. Together with the house, they took the furniture too.

In Thessaloniki things were even worse, so we didn’t get a house, even though the government was obliged to give us one. This way we would get straight on their lists, so we thought that wouldn’t be a very wise move. We took some furniture to our neighbors to keep it for the time that we would be gone, and, luckily, we had the opportunity to get fake identification cards so we took on the name of Vamva. I kept my name Roza, as it was used as a Greek name too, but my husband, whose name was Rahamin, and got the nickname Rene at the Lycee Francais, was now called Yannis Vamvas.

After that we went to Pagkrati where we stayed opposite a large building plot that was used for executions. They would shoot in the night and after the shooting everything was dead quiet, like you were in the dessert. Later in the morning, you would find little papers saying who they shot, for example they would say: ‘The Germans shot this one who was a communist.’ And if the Germans didn’t do it themselves, then the Gudarades did; that’s what they used to call the people working together with the Germans.

One day someone in the street recognized my father-in-law and everyone was very scared, but thankfully this person proved to be a good man. We also had to be cautious with my child because he was circumcised and everyone was telling him to be careful when he pees. Every morning the father, grandfather and brother would say farewell to the child and go to work. Their job was to go to the 1st cemetery, which was close to where we lived. The child was very friendly with a boy who lived across the road and his name was George, but the called him Bouli.

My father together with his brothers owned a whole building. The corner shop was a shoe maker who had in the basement a dried up well where they had hidden the leathers. This is where they caught the older brother, who then had a son and a daughter. One sister was saved from the concentration camps. The other sister was having a bath when the Germans came in the house, so she heard them and she jumped out the bathroom window and ran away.

She went to some neighbors with whom we had good relations. They kept her safe for a while but when they got scared they turned her in to the Germans. The car that came to take her in passed right from the center. In the car it was only her and the driver. At some point the driver stopped at a kiosk to buy some cigarettes, someone saw her and gave her a signal to get out of the car. The little one got out and left. She didn’t know where to go because we were all hidden in secret places and people didn’t know where we were. A friend of my father bumped into her on the street and asked what had happened. He took her with him and he somehow managed to get in contact with my father.

My father got in touch with a friend of his, who was lawyer, and they hid the girl. My father was paying them of course. At the time, if a Christian family hid someone in the house, then you would cover all their house expenses as a payment. Things were awfully expensive. All the money was coming from where we had hid it. My father had many acquaintances, one of who was the minister of transport, before he was in hiding.

My son was called Alberto and we would call him Taki. But we had to teach him now that he wasn’t called Alberto Benveniste but Taki Vamva.

When we lived in Kalithea, in this house that was built by this Greek-American, it had four apartments. A couple that didn’t have any children was living in one of them. We became good friends and the lady really loved our child. When it was really cold and we couldn’t warm up all the apartments, we would warm one of them and be there all together. The lady would call my son many times to come over to their apartment and he would go, but after a while he would get bored and come and cry out, ‘Mum did you call me?’

One day we were at their place and they asked him what his name was, so he replied Takis Vamvas. So they ask him, ‘Do you know an Alberto Benveniste?’ And he said that he was gone. Later in the house my son asked me, ‘If we go back to our old house, will Alberto come back?’

My father-in-law was a goldsmith and clocksmith in Kavala. He had all these tools that the little one really liked and he had asked his grandfather to give them to him. One day the little one goes to his grandfather and asks him, ‘What is God?’ So the grandfather replies, ‘God is the father of all.’ ‘Even Grandfather’s father?’ ‘Yes, even Grandfather’s,’ he replies. So the little one thinks about it for while and says, ‘When God dies, I want to be God.’

The house in Pagkrati was owned by a pistachio seller. You would enter the house and you would enter the dinning room and we had the same furniture that you see here today. We had our comforts in the other house in Kalithea, we had gas for warming the water for the bath, which was very convenient for the baby. And then we went to Pagkrati where there was only one work surface in the kitchen and a small toilet with only a curtain. We passed through some difficult times there.

Right opposite us there where living two brothers who were also Jewish. One of them was a French teacher, but he had lost all his papers, even his school certificate from the Lycee Francais. My husband really helped him because he managed somehow to get the proof that the boy had graduated from the Lycee Francais to the French Embassy, and he got a teaching license.

We used to have a speaking trumpet to make announcements. One day they came and called all the men of a certain age to present themselves at a place which they used to call ‘The Widows Café.’

There were two rooms in the house where we lived. In one of them was my mother-in-law with her son, and we had the other room.

My husband had some money on him and he didn’t know whether to take it with him or not. We were in a quite poor neighborhood. We would also see the men wearing masks who would turn people in, and no one was sure of anything, that is, who they were going to turn in next.

So all the men left, and I took my mother-in-law, who didn’t know any Greek, and put her in bed and told her not to speak at all, not even move. She couldn’t remember any names, she would ask my son to remind her of people’s names.

As I told you before, our house was right opposite the building plot which was used for executions. One day a young man was running because he was late, and they stopped him on the way. They asked him why he was late and said that he was writing on the walls so they shot him right there. You weren’t allowed of a second chance about anything.

My son was watching that from the window. That same day an army general comes in and asks us where we keep the guns. ‘We don’t keep any guns, you can look everywhere and check,’ I reply. So he looks in front of him and sees this sideboard here and looks at the glasses and the things inside, things that weren’t common for that area.

So he asks me, ‘Where do you come from?’ ‘From Kavala,’ I reply. So he asked me if I knew a man called Yannis in Kavala. So, I asked him if he knew Kavala, and he replied that he had served in the army there. So I say to him, ‘Look our father was very poor and he was selling clothes by the sea to raise us’ – and I was thinking, poor father if you hear me now, what am I saying about you.

When we came to Athens my father had taken measures. He had a shop at Nikoloudi arcade where he was hiding the goods that he brought from Thessaloniki. He also left his head accountant in Thessaloniki to wait for him to come back. Initially, Athens was taken over by the Italians so we were treated the same way as the Christians. One day the shop owner suddenly decided that he needed the shop and asked my father to leave. So my father took everything and came to Athens.

He had the shop with an associate and his name wasn’t showing at all. In Thessaloniki all the Jewish customers would come and the Christians would go to their own well known names of couture. When the shop opened in Athens, no one knew that it was a Jewish shop, and the name was Christian. They would admire the clothes, and they would say to each other, ‘Athens you see…’ So my father wouldn’t say anything until they would buy and afterwards he would tell them, ‘You had the same in Thessaloniki, but you had to come to Athens to buy it.’

Later they occupied the shop too, and my father again opened a shop together with a Christian, this time on a very popular street, the name of which I cannot remember. When things started getting out of hand, he hid the goods under a friend’s name in the State Warehouse.
Sometimes my father would take goods from the State Warehouse, and he would sell them. At some point a nasty old man understood what was happening. This resulted in the Germans finding the goods and the Christian going to prison. The goods were sold to firms that are still well known today. My father was telling me that even after the war he could see in the shop windows things that he had brought himself from France. Thankfully, my father’s friend was set free.

This minister’s assistant and his wife, had put it in their mind to take everything that we had, and then turn us in to the Germans. After that I suddenly got a heart problem. I don’t quite remember what happened but I was down in the bathroom and I couldn’t go back up. I crawled on my knees back to the room, that I remember. Thankfully we had these good friends in Kalithea ad the man took me to the doctor and he said it was my heart. Since then I have had three operations.

Around the end of the war, my parents lived in a house at Ilisia, where an Army General’s wife was living. She had a son who she couldn’t sustain with the pension she was receiving alone, so that’s where they were staying at the time of the liberation.

I had become really tiny, I had lost a lot of weight and my parents were giving me food to get stronger, and I was going out sharing it, so eventually they took me with them to get me back to normal.

I remember on liberation day, Papandreou 15 came out on Syntagma square and all the women were dressed in army clothes and the people were shouting, ‘Government by the people,’ and he came out and said, ‘We believe in a government by the people.’

Then the Dekemvriana 16 came and we suffered very much. We were living in a socialist area where they would gather men so they wouldn’t take them as soldiers in the army. We didn’t have any food, and also had with us my father- and my mother-in-law and their son.
The community at the time was donating – contributing things. One day, we got up with my uncle and went to get the things from the community, which was at Thiseio, where the synagogue is today; it was being built at the time. On the way we could see many destroyed houses, which had been bombed. While we were walking a bullet came towards us and passed just between us and the wall. We could see bodies everywhere, but I didn’t pay any attention to that.

We passed by a grocer with his donkey on the way there, and I was trying to get some fruit from him. My brother-in-law got very upset with me. When we got to the synagogue, there were some corpses there of people who got killed accidentally from bullets. We got home and gave the food to my parents-in-law and headed off to go to Kalithea, to my parents.

Some brat from the resistance stopped us on the way and made us sit on our knees, and we were begging him to let us go. We got to a certain point, but we got stuck because it was tea time, and at tea time all English soldiers would stop anything they did to have their tea on time. In the end we got there.

The owners of the house in Kalithea had a chicken called Birbilo, and the woman was so soft hearted that it wouldn’t even cross her mind that we might eat the chicken. But you can imagine, how, at a time when there was no food all, the thought of having chicken seemed like… Her husband went and strangled it, and later we ate the chicken. The woman didn’t even take one bite.

Many times I sit and think: What if we had done things differently? … Like one time when the general came into the house and, after he asked if I knew Yannis from Kavala, went straight up to my room. He found money on the furniture and I winked at him to take it. So he replied to me, ‘Madam we are not thieves’, and I said, ‘Who said such a thing?’. He took the money and left, without bothering with the other rooms of the house at all. I was so upset that I sat at the sewing machine to get my tension out. A little boy comes in then and tells me, ‘Mr. Yannis went to work,’ meaning that there was a big piece of land and they got some people out. It later turned out that they were Jewish too. So we thought that next time it would be our turn.

There was a woman doctor living opposite our house who was working at I.K.A [Social Security Service] at Piraeus and she was from Crete. She was sometimes coming around ours to hide. Only if she knew… She was a pediatrician too, and when our little one was ill we wanted to take him to her to examine him, but we were afraid that she would see that he was circumcised. In the end we took him, and she didn’t understand a thing. I gave her English classes in return. She would come and check up on him, and we would give her something to eat.

When the war ended, I made a nice cake and called a little boy to take it to the doctor’s house. I could see the little boy from the window taking the cake and giving it to her. I had to go around a bit later for the English lesson. When I went she told me, ‘Someone sent me this cake; it is tasty.’

I had told the boy to tell her that it was from Mr. & Mrs. Benveniste, so I asked her who had sent her the cake. She replied that she didn’t know, some foreigners; she obviously hadn’t caught the name. I asked her if she liked it, and she replied, ‘Very much.’ She had already eaten half of it.

So I got up and presented myself and said to her, ‘My name is Roza Benveniste.’ She was at a loss of words, she didn’t know what to say. She was a very nice and very active woman, I later lost track of her, I don’t know why.

I went back to Thessaloniki in 1948, when Sarah, our daughter, was one year old and my father died.

My father went back to Thessaloniki to see what had happened. He also went to Israel to see his son, my brother. As I said earlier, my father was a very insightful man. He had a nephew who was the son of his sister. She lived in Palestine for many years, and her son was an architect. My father had then bought a plot of land in Rehavia, the most aristocratic area of Jerusalem. With the war ending, we had to pay all the taxes for the years that had passed so we had quite a debt. My brother wanted to sell it too, so we did, which wasn’t very wise, as it had a great value. My brother wanted to extend his business and to buy a house, so Father went there and arranged everything for him.

Later he came back to Thessaloniki, where he died, and I went there with one-year-old Sarah in 1948. We traveled on the plane and as my mother-in-law had told Sarah to wave at her from the sky when the plane took off, my little one was waving from the window.

The house was taken by the Germans. In the greenhouse they had put pigs. Some Bulgarians had taken over the shop, and all the engines and everything in there was wrecked. The shop was at 15 Venizelou Street [central street in Thessaloniki]. Some refugees were in the house, and there was one family living in each room. The shop is where Kodak Counio is today.

Unfortunately my husband, who was very sweet and nice, didn’t have a clue about trade, he was an accountant. Anyway, we spent my entire dowry during the war to survive, we sold the house in Thessaloniki and made it into an apartment building, and we sold the shop to Counio. He had a small shop between ours and my uncle’s.

It’s like I wasn’t Jewish, I didn’t know anything about trade, nor does my daughter, Sarah. When I finished school and before I got married, my father took me to the shop to work for him. He had old goods and newer ones. My father had a reward system for all the salesmen if they sold the older things, so they would get a profit too.

So I go to the shop to work and a girl comes to get fabric, you could tell that she didn’t have much money. So she called me and asked me if this fabric suited her, I replied no, this one suits you better. The employee next to me said that if the shop had me instead of my father running it, it would shut. ‘Why?’ I wondered. That suited her and you could tell that she didn’t have much money; I couldn’t lie. So you can gather that the trade wasn’t really my thing.

Later I got engaged and married. When I was pregnant anything I would eat, I would throw up later. I got to the point that I was in bed and couldn’t get up. We had these clay jars in the kitchen and my mother would make various pickles from cabbage and peppers and other things. One day she comes to my bed and says, ‘Roza taste one to see if they are done.’ I didn’t usually eat spicy peppers, because I didn’t like them. I ate one or two, and I started crying because they were so spicy. But somehow I didn’t throw up.

That became an issue. What had I eaten and did not throw up? So my mother replied, ‘I know she ate some peppers.’ From there on, I stopped throwing up and before that my husband used to go to get me the most expensive fish roe. I would get up in the morning and instead of milk, eat spicy peppers, and let the tears flow.

I had come down to Athens with my husband before the war because they had re-assigned him from work for Commerciale where he was working. After ‘Elli’ sunk and he was reassigned, my husband went back to Kavala and I took the child and went to Thessaloniki to be closer to my parents.

I remember that we celebrated the religious holidays, not so much the Christian ones, but sometimes we would visit some Christian friends. We used to celebrate Saint Johns – Ai Yanniou when we were hiding. Because my husband had the name of Yannis Vamvas and because we were in a loud neighborhood, we would celebrate it too, just like everybody else. And I remember him saying, ‘Come it is my name day too, come to celebrate,’ and we would wish that it would be the only time that we had to do this.

We didn’t go on vacation much then. My mother had arthritis so she would go somewhere outside Thessaloniki, to some hot springs. One time that I was with mother there, they had this dancing contest for couples, and I was awarded the title of ‘Miss.’ I was the ‘Miss of the dance floor.’

When the Zionistic movement had started in Thessaloniki there were unions like the AJJ that where organizing balls and excursions. These were just day-trips, of course, because our parents wouldn’t let us sleep outside the house. We also visited Prespes Lakes. My aunts used to go on vacation and sometimes they would invite me over; they had younger children so I would go to keep them company.

My maternal cousins were older than me so I didn’t go out with them. I had many friends from the American School, but they were mainly Christians. I didn’t even go out with Rene, who we were also related to, because she had an uncle who was married to one of my aunts. Her name was Rene Saltiel and she later became Molho. We didn’t hang out together much because they were three sisters and they had a circle of friends from the Lycee, and I didn’t know anyone from the Lycee.

I had another schoolmate I hung out with, Antigoni was her name, and she had six sisters. Her father worked at the tolls. Because he had a job at the municipality, one of the daughters went to work there too. She had already finished school when she came to the American College, as most of the girls had. Her stop was Papafi, but we would get off the bus at my stop, which is where the King was killed, at Agia Triada Church. That’s how we became closer. When her father died, she was very sad, so I kept her company and she used to come around the house, or we would go to the cinema with my brother. Antigoni knew how to read coffee cups and cards; she was familiar with both fortune telling rituals.

When I got married and my husband knew that he was re-assigned to work in Athens, she was around the house, but I hadn’t told her anything. So she reads the cards for me and says, ‘Roza what’s going on, I see Rene going on a journey.’ ‘No,’ I reply, so she reads the cards again and says, ‘What you are talking about, you are already there.’ I believe in card reading because I have seen it come true many times. All this was happening just before my son was born. So when she said that, I got upset, started crying and told her to leave. I had some other incidents with cards in my life.

After the War

After the war I went to Thessaloniki where many families were living in our house. In one of the rooms lived a girl from Crete; Miss Carina, whose job was to maintain the toilets of the National Theater of Thessaloniki. She was a coffee reader.

At the time one of my mother’s sisters had married for the second time. She got married to an uncle of mine, who was a widower too, and had three children; my aunt only had one daughter. She was a Spanish citizen, and during the war she was taken to the concentration camps from where she thankfully returned.

My aunt lived somewhere else with my uncle whose health was fine, but he usually didn’t come around the house so much. When my father died she came around the house and my mother knocked on the floor and called Miss Carina to read the coffee. She came up and started telling my aunt that she had one daughter, who lived far away. And indeed she lived in America. Then she told her that she had a husband, who was not ill but was going to die in three or four…

My aunt didn’t know anything about coffee reading, so she asked her what did that mean, and she replied it wasn’t years or months, but either weeks or days. So my aunt was wondering because everything else Miss Carina had told her was true. When she left, I was sitting there with Mother, thinking about what she had told to our aunt. Anyway, three days went by and all of a sudden we found out in the morning, that Uncle had died although he wasn’t sick at all. So we freaked out, and we thought of the coffee-reading… That’s why I am telling you, I believe it.

One other time we had gone over my brother-in-law’s house, the one who was from Kavala. He had come over Thessaloniki to study, but he didn’t study in the end, as he worked in his father’s shop, where everything was wrecked from the war. So Miss Carina came for a coffee reading.

He was about to go to report to the army, so she said to him that he didn’t have any roots there. He knew that he had to go to Alexandroupoli [city in Northeast Greece at the border with Turkey], and he was wondering whether he was going to permanently stay there, and get married and have children there. What Miss Carina was telling him sounded very strange to him.

A law came out then, which said that any Jews who want to can take the Israeli citizenship and resign from their Greek rights, which meant they would be relieved of their army duties and that they would immigrate to Israel. So he took advantage of this and went. Now, how could she have known that? He didn’t even know. You see, sometimes people say that through the questions they tell you the reading, but this one with my uncle, no one could have known.

One of my mother’s sisters lived close to our house and her husband used to teach us German and was a work associate of my uncle. Her house was architecturally Turkish and had a Turkish bath. We had the European-style bath in our house, the water would heat up and would fill the bath, only it wasn’t a built-in bath, it was a free standing one with little legs. That’s what was common at that time. My mother really liked the Turkish bath so she would take me and we would go around to my aunt’s house.

This aunt of mine was fat and had very large breasts. Her husband liked to joke, and when I was becoming a lady he would tease me and I would blush. He would also say to me that soon I would fall down the stairs and be full of blood. By that he meant my period. But, of course, I didn’t understand what he meant back then, so I kept replying to him, that I was careful and I wouldn’t fall.

My aunt had a son and a daughter. Her daughter was married and had two children. None of them came back [that is, didn’t survive World War II]. Her son didn’t marry because he really liked me. I didn’t like him but I was discreet. He went to the concentration camps too and never came back.

My uncle who had that school I mentioned earlier was married twice. He was widowed by his first wife with whom he had a daughter and a son. His daughter had a great voice and had gone to Paris for recordings. She even had a very artistic name; she was called Roza di Fiore. When she came back she became a music teacher. She was very beautiful. My uncle remarried and had another daughter, who was a great girl but wasn’t pretty because she had a problem with her neck.

When I got engaged to my husband, I could see that everyone around me had three grandmothers. The same was the case with my husbands’ family. So I used to say that I will die and he will remarry. I had even chosen who it will be, but these things are up to God.

I was the only daughter in the family. My father owned a shop and cooperated in many other businesses that held balls to reinforce their unions. There was this very beautiful hotel by the sea, the ‘Mediterranee,’ which was the best hotel at that time.

My brother had studied to become a mechanical engineer in France, so he associated with the state. When they declared war, he served as an army officer. He specialized as a minesweeper. He did all the plans for the Thessaloniki station.

My brother got married to an English Jew, who came to offer help after the war ended. They later left for England, and in fact, when I had my first heart operation, we stayed at their house in London. He was offered work in America and Israel. His wife was a Zionist so she grabbed the chance and they went to Israel. I used to be escorted by him at balls while he was an army officer.

This clock over here was given to me by the head accountant who was taking care of our shop at the beginning of the war; my daughter Sarah is much attached to it.

We had no idea what had happened in Thessaloniki during the war. Later, after the war ended, we found out what had happened with our families and friends. We even thought of going back because we saw people from Kavala coming to Athens, where we were starving, and they seemed in a better situation. At some point my husband was thinking of taking goods to go and sell them and bring back food. But something happened which stopped him, which was better because he wasn’t cut out for trade.

During the civil war 17 we had no participation, we were already in a bad position to get involved. Both my brother and my brother-in-law had gone to Israel.

When my father died, my mother came to Athens. We lived in Kalithea at the time. That’s where Sarah grew up and went to school. We later moved to Kipseli [highly populated residential area of Athens] and lived in a house on Kipselis Street, on the square. It was a nice, large house, and below it was the Rex Café. We later moved to Alexandras Avenue. It was the apartment of a friend of ours. He lived nearby. Below our house was a sweet shop.

One time we went to Switzerland on holidays with the kids, but my husband wasn’t very keen on going on vacation.

After the war we made many new friends, both Jewish and Christian. In Thessaloniki I had two friends, who were both working as secretaries at the university, Adigoni and Mary. I used to call them Maya and Yoyoni. They were my closest friends. They would come around the house for a visit. I didn’t have Jewish friends that I was so close with. Later, in Athens, there where so few Jews and we lived so far away from one another that again I had Christian friends there too. In our first neighborhood in Kalithea, we got very close with that couple that I mentioned before who didn’t have any children.

Sometimes we still speak in Judeo-Spanish with my Jewish friends. I have one friend who always wants to speak the language with me, and another one who speaks it only when she doesn’t want other people to understand what she is saying.

As I told you earlier, my husband was working at the Commerciale, but one of his friends convinced him to open a business with him, so he left his job without any compensation, at his own will. So he opened a business with his friend, who didn’t do business in a very clean way. My husband wasn’t used to dirty business, they had an argument and he left. But he wasn’t the kind of person who would go out looking for a job, so he didn’t work for a year and we were spending our savings.

He later became an associate of a distant relative who had a tourist booking agency. He put some money in and he liked the work. But his associate was planning to leave for America, so he left him. My husband wasn’t cut out to work in trade. He wanted to be correct in everything. Unfortunately he got into the trade business.

Greece was in an awful situation at the time, there was no money coming in, no tourism. When the dictatorship started in 1967, they were coming from the large hotels in town, asking us if we had someone to send them, while before that we had been asking them for shelter. In the meantime my husband had broken his leg and had surgery, which went wrong and as a result he was paralyzed. I had heart problems, so every now and then I would faint in the middle of the road. I was responsible for picking up the foreigners from the airport and transporting them to their hotels.

Sarah had passed her exams at the pharmaceutical school in Thessaloniki; she didn’t think she would. She had applied in many different schools. She was very excited that she had passed and decided to go. At the same time my second grandchild was born in Paris, so I had to go and help my daughter-in-law.

My son finished elementary school here. We were planning to go to Israel. There was a school in Israel and we decided to send him there. In the summer he had gone to this summer camp and in a contest he had won a tallit. We went to the school with my husband to the supervisor to give her my son’s clothes, so he takes the tallit out and asked me, ‘Ma ze?’ – What is this? I lost it and thought, we’re in Israel and my son doesn’t know what a tallit is. I couldn’t get over it. Anyway, I explained to her that he had won it in a contest, and he put it back inside.

It was the school of agriculture that organized these camps, and the children were learning other languages there too. My son had finished elementary school and he already knew French and English very well. He learned English there. The school was located in the border region, and every now and then Arabs would come by and there would be stabbings, so we were very upset. We couldn’t calm down. They were also teaching them how to hold a gun in order to be able to defend themselves.

We decided to bring him back, but he had already lost two years of school, so we sent him to a school in Lozenge, which was for very rich people. He probably thought that his father had oil companies or something because he kept asking for money to go skiing, etc.

We found out later that he wasn’t doing so well, so we brought him back here and he went to the French school here to obtain the Baccalaureate. Later he went to study in France, and in order not to send him to Paris, we sent him to Caen, that was in 1956. My husband had an uncle in Paris, his mothers’ brother, and we first went there and later to London, for my operation.

At the same time, my son met this girl that he was crazy about, and he said that he didn’t want to study anymore. Suddenly he stopped replying to our letters and only asked for money. So my husband, as he always did in difficult situations, sent me over to see what was going on. I went but didn’t find him where he used to live, at the university campus. I asked around and they told me that he hadn’t come around for days, so I burst out crying and went back to the hotel.

At one point, through a friend, I found out that he was ill and that the parents of the girl were taking care of him, so I sent word to him.

He said to me that he really wanted to marry her, so I was asking how they were going to live on their own. He said they were going to live in one of the French settlements, and with having the Baccalaureate he will become a monitor. She had gone to a commercial school and had become an accountant. You can imagine what I went through. He was the only man in the family, and I was crying for days, but in the end I was forced to agree. I met her in the end, and her parents, and gave her my consent to get married to my son, and decided to see what they were going to do next.

My husband broke his leg once and was at a Jewish hospital. The name was Cohen and he did physiotherapy and recovered. But after a while he broke his leg again. One day, when it was raining heavily, one our employees called him and said that he had a customer who wanted to buy a ticket for multiple destinations, and he didn’t know how to do it. So my husband got up regardless of the rain to go there.

At the time I was getting ready to go to Israel. At some point the phone rang and they tell me that my husband is at the Social Security Service, I.K.A., and that he is injured. As he was walking down Alexandras Avenue and was crossing over to Mistoksidi Street, at the corner, an army bus that a soldier was driving carelessly ran by, hit him and left him there.

My husband, instead of turning the driver in and saying that it was his fault, said it was bad timing, that it wasn’t the boy’s fault. The lawyers didn’t use the facts very well either. This second time that he got hit, he got a bad infection. Olympic Airways offered to transfer him, as they knew him from doing business with him. They made a bed and we went to Israel. There was this Jewish organization that covered all the medical expenses, but the infection was getting worse, and in the end they had to cut his leg off. He eventually died.

I go to the Jewish museum only three times a week now. I usually go on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. I don’t cook anymore, the girl that helps me does. I don’t cook kosher Jewish food, but I make eggplant with cheese.

I play scrabble with Zaklin. She is a special case. She is from a village in France on the border with Germany. She got married to one of my husband’s friends from childhood. His name was Morris Inkra. They were very close with my husband; they went to the Lycee together, I met him when we got engaged.

When the war started he got caught and was a prisoner of war. When Mussolini fell, they went to Switzerland and as they were prisoners of war they received packets from the Red Cross. He was one of very few people who knew French. They used to send him to get the packets from the Red Cross, and he got his bride from there too, so to speak.

He wasn’t very religious but he told her, to marry her she would have to change her religion and become Jewish. She agreed and they went to the rabbi in Geneva. So he said to him, ‘Look I am Jewish, and I want to marry her, but she is Christian. I want you to make her a Jew so I can marry her.’ ‘What?’ he said, ‘look I have three daughters, choose which one you want and marry her.’ But he wanted her, so they went to another city, I don’t remember where, to find a rabbi who would teach her and turn her into a Jew. She knows the religion better than me because she was even given exams on it.

When they came to Greece, they stayed in our house in Athens. He left his wife with us and went back to Thessaloniki to find out what had happened to his assets. When he got there, he knocked at a neighbor’s door. When she opened and saw him, she immediately tried to shut the door in his face. He had caught a glimpse of some of his own furniture in her house, and he managed to put his foot in the door, so she couldn’t shut the door.

So the woman tells him, ‘What do you want here? How come you weren’t made into soap by the Germans? And why do you come to us asking for things, I have nothing.’ When he heard that, he lost it and left. He broke down crying. As he was leaving, he heard a voice coming from the basement calling him, and he went towards the voice. ‘Hey young man, weren’t you living in this house?’ ‘Yes,’ he replies and gives him a tea pot with a cup of tea.

These things are in the museum now. In situations like this you see what people are really made of. So we have been great friends from the first time we met. Then we lost trace of each other. Each one of us had their own problems. We had many, she had some too. Then my husband died, and then hers did too.

Glossary

Margarita Yakova Kohen (nee Selanikyo)
Plovdiv
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Svetlana Avdala
Date of interview: April 1996

Margarita can most precisely be described as a kind person. While talking to her, a person feels eager to touch her, to caress her. If you look at the pictures carefully, you’ll notice her seducing buxom forms, chubby cheeks which still look the same on her face. When she was young she was wooed a lot – she had received tens of letters from young men who were in love with her. Today, in spite of her being ill and despite the fact that she is ninety years old, she is constantly visited by people who look for her company… And for that there is a reason much more serious. Margarita isn’t selfish. She doesn’t place herself or her sufferings into the center of the world – that was the case in the past and that is the case now, more than ever. The twists of fortune hadn’t changed her for the worse. She is looking at you docilely, wisely, understandingly. Sclerosis has been merciful to her brain, but age is already gnawing at her flesh. When I was calling on the phone to make clarifications, she, no matter how difficult the previous night had been, was always patient enough to tell stories and to make matters clear. She never showed irritation or impatience.

Family Background

Growing Up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

Family Background

My name is Margarita Yakova Kohen, nee Selanikyo. I was born on 12th April 1917 in the town of Gorna Dzhumaya [present-day Blagoevgrad, southwestern Bulgaria]. I live in Plovdiv 1. My husband’s name is Shemuel Samuil Kohen (1906 – 1988). We have two children – Samuil (1940) and Solomon (1950).

I have finished a secondary school and have worked as an assistant dental mechanic, librarian, receptionist in hospital. My mother tongue is Spaniol [Ladino]. I have a brother Bouko (1912 – 1948) and a sister – Matilda Albalakh (nee Selanikyo). I am an orphan. My father Yakuti Liyachi Selanikyo (1885 – 1917) died during the Second Balkan War 2 in a military hospital due to pneumonia.

I am a Sephardi Jew 3 both on mother’s and on father’s side. My maiden name Selanikyo shows that my father’s kin came from Solun [Salonika]. In Spanish Solun was called Selanik and that’s why the people who were from the town were called selanikis – the people from Solun. This is the etymology of my surname.

My mother’s maiden name is Kohen. I don’t know where her ancestors came from but I want to tell you that the people from her kin were very dark-skinned and black-eyed. That was what my mother looked like and her brothers and sisters too. They looked like Jews from Yemen and my uncle Eshua even looked like a black man.

I don’t remember my father Yakuti Liyachi Selanikyo because when he died I was six months old but his mother, my granny Ouroucha’s complexion was a little fairer so we the children – her grandchildren – I, my brother and my sister – were dark-skinned, but not that much.

In Gorna Dzhumaya, where I was born, I lived until the age of eight. Afterwards I went to study at a school in Sofia and lived in an orphanage there. Later, my family moved to Plovdiv and I’ve been living in that town since then.
Now, when I come to think of it, Gorna Dzhumaya from my childhood was a big village – houses with gardens. In most houses the toilets and the fountains were outside, in the gardens. The streets were paved or not paved at all. In most of the houses gas lamps were used. The most important natural site, which I remember even now, was the river. [The name of the river is the Blagoevgradska Bistritsa]. Not long ago, three years ago, I visited Gorna Dzhumaya and expected to hear the babble of the river, an invariable part of the background noises, but the noises of the town were completely different. I wrote a letter to Israel, to tell them [i.e. her relatives there] about my visit. I told them that neither the hill was the same, nor the babble of the river… And you know, in those times we were even able to understand when the river was swelling – all the ducks, which were swimming in it, started quacking and we immediately moved away from the banks. That happened because the water was coming from the mounts in the Rila Mountain with great force. [Rila National Park – highest mount – Mousala – altitude of 2925m, lowest point – Blagoevgrad – altitude of 800m] It was even said that once the water dragged a house with a mother and a baby inside. The mother died but the baby survived…We used to spend our time in the garden, or in the streets all the time and along the river. Yes, the river – there we were playing different games, leaping from stone to stone…Good fun… great pleasure…

Both my mother’s kin and my father’s kin used to have their own houses in Gorna Dzhumaya. Initially all my mother’s kin Kohen – my great-grandfather, great-grandmother, my grandparents and their children together with a servant, my mother’s brothers and sisters were living in a big house belonging to a Turkish administrator in the past. The house was at the foot of the Gornodzhumaisky Hill, near the bridge and the trade center. It was surrounded by a small garden in which there was a fountain and a plum tree. It was a two-storey house. There were also some cellars. On the first floor there were three rooms with a closet and a parlor. On the second floor there were two smaller rooms and a very big parlor with nine windows. There were two entrances to the house – one of them central, the other one leading to the hill and that’s why a lot of revolutionaries, Macedonian rebels, ‘komiti’ 4 used to hide in the house of my grandfather and great-grandfather. I recall there was a tiny room, something like a stock room. And when we were trying to go there, granny would chase us away, so that we wouldn’t hear a noise and betray somebody. Later my mother told me that Todor Alexandrov 5 used to hide there but I haven’t seen him personally. I remember that the house was richly furnished – there were a lot of window sofas and a gramophone that belonged to my aunts.

Opposite that former Turkish house lived my father’s kin – Selanikyo. My parents saw each other and met – being neighbors. Later, the Selanikyo family built a new house – in the center of Gorna Dzhumaya – opposite the military club in the town – near Macedonia Square and moved to live there. The Kohen family also built a new house, surrounded by a big garden of four decares. The house was next to the railway station. In the garden there was another small house in which the four of us used to live – I, my mother, my brother and sister. I recall that in the garden there was a tobacco storeroom, mulberry trees – white and black, a nice vegetable and flower garden. In our house, the small house, we used to have hens. Yes, mum was looking after hens and even in Plovdiv she used to have hens in a house which had a cellar. Whereas my grandmothers were not used to look after any animals in their houses – neither the one, nor the other.

Before that, until I turned five, my mother, brother, sister and I lived in a place that belonged to the state which my mother received being the widow of a soldier who had died in the Second Balkan War. It was near the mosque and the spa, next to the Turkish quarter and after that we started living with the Kohen family because it was impossible for my mother to take care of three children on her own.

My mother’s family – Kohen – was very religious and wealthy. I remember my maternal great-grandfather. His name was Bentsion Kohen and he was one of the honorary citizens of the community in Gorna Dzhumaya. He was the chairman of the Israelite Spiritual Council. He was a ‘sarafin’ by profession [a merchant of securities; a stock-broker]. He used to have a black beard and was constantly playing with some coins in his hand – he was tossing them so that everybody would know what his job was and would go to use his services. And everybody in the town knew him and called him grandpa Bentsion. My great-grandmother’s name was Dounoucha. She used to give birth every seven years, which was something rare at the time [the practice at tha time was to have children every two or three years and to have a big family]. That’s why she had only three children – grandpa Bokhor, his sister Reyna and his brother Haim.

My maternal grandfather's name was Bokhor Kohen (1871 – 1923). He had studied at Alliance Francaise 6 and was a merchant, money-exchanger, shareholder at ‘Pirin’ Mines by profession. He used to deal with dairy products and skins. He used to export and sell them in Greece, in Salonika. As a man who had finished the Alliance in the town of Samokov he was well-educated and showed enterprise in his work. He used to even have shares at ‘Pirin’ Mines. My grandpa, my mother’s father, was wealthy, from a wealthy family, they were far from poor. I don’t know how my grandparents had met, who engaged them and how and why they got married. They had thirteen children out of which nine survived – three sons and six daughters – Bouka, Ester, Victoria, Roza, Matilda, Rebeka. The three sons had names from the Bible – Mois or Moshe, Eshua …and Yakov/Zhak, which is another proof that the family was very religious. Mum was the first-born child – the oldest of them all and that’s why her name was Bouka – Bekhora, which means ‘First’. Grandpa was a very religious man. Until recently I was keeping here some books which my mother had given to my father on the day of their wedding. They were brought to her by her father – my grandfather and they were bought during his commercial trips. They were very beautifully decorated with metal and ivory. They were in Ivrit about the Jewish holidays – Haggadah for Pesach, for Rosh Hashanah and for [Yom] Kippur. Later I gave them to my grandchildren. I also had a bible in Spaniol and Ivrit. It was very old – from about 1870. It was bought in Vienna probably by my grandfather again. And additionally it served my mother as a textbook in Spaniol.

Grandpa Bokhor was an intelligent man, he was thinking about the future and was quite practical, he was in pace with the times. He realized that every man and every woman should have a vocation. He sent my mother to Dupnitsa [in southwest Bulgaria, 49 km from Sofia], beyond the border. The border was in Kocherinovo village and Boboshevo village. Dupnitsa was in Bulgaria whereas Blagoevgrad or Gorna Dzhumaya was still within the Ottoman Empire [Status of Macedonia] 7 and grandpa sent her to Dupnitsa to learn sewing. The second and the third daughters were sent to learn knitting, the fourth one became an embroider and he bought her an embroidery machine; the fifth one became a seamstress too; the sixth one – she even had a secondary education – learned to make fillet-works… the fashionable networks which were becoming popular everywhere. I mean that all the daughters had learned a craft. And not all of them, as he used to say, to stay only with a bracelet in hand. But he gave his children not only these crafts, but education as well. My mother was the oldest and she remained illiterate but with time each one of the children was getting a higher and higher degree of education. Ester and Victoria had primary education, Roza and Eshua – junior high school education, that means a finished third grade and the youngest even received high school education. In that way, depending on the times and their age, the education was better and better.

My maternal grandmother's name was Tamar Kohen (? - 1950s)  My grandma is from Dupnitsa. She had seven sisters and several brothers but I don’t know all their names. I remember the names only of the ones who lived in Gorna Dzhumaya. Three sisters got married in Dupnitsa but lived in Gorna Dzhumaya and that’s why I remember their names – Masal, Linda and granny Tamara. My granny was religious too and that’s how she was bringing up her daughters and grandchildren. I recall something that had turned into a law in the family. Yes, if I tell you what it was you’ll be astonished – when the daughters or the granddaughters were in menstruation, granny wouldn’t allow us to touch anything in which food was stored – plates, pots, water decanters. We weren’t allowed to touch and she said that everything had to be clean enough and we were ‘ikoniada’ – which means we were not entirely clean at that moment, so touching was banned – that deep was granny’s faith. She was not only a believer but a house-proud woman as well. I recall that before Pesach all the cutlery was disinfected through boiling. And not only was she very house-proud but she was a great gourmet, too. She was cooking for sixteen people. My mother’s brothers and sisters also lived in the big house of the Kohen family. We were often visited by relatives from Salonika. We were also visited by acquaintances of my grandfather who was selling them dairy products and in those cases cooking was even a greater adventure. My mother told me that when there were guests the children, I mean the younger brothers and sisters – 9 in total, were gathered in a separate room so that they wouldn’t make noise. My mother was in charge because she was the oldest. She entertained them by telling them stories. And all the guests used to say – so many children and it is so quiet… Usually the guests were entertained in a parlor on the first floor. A lot of different people were visiting – my grandpa’s customers and respected people from the town, I had also visited that home often because mum used to go there often with her three children in order not to be sad and bored all the time – she was a widow after all. In my granny’s house kosher was a must. There were separate dishes and plates for the different foods. The animals were slaughtered by a shochet in a special place in the yard of the synagogue.

Apart from her children, husband and wife, mother and father-in-law there were always guests and a servant who helped with the farm work and who was carrying the products from the shops to the house. There were no other servants. I recall that the daughters – mum and her sisters helped granny. She used to get up at 3 a.m. and at 4 a.m. she would say: ‘Come on, daughter, come and help me with kneading this bread, to cook something for the family.’ In the evening the whole family used to gather. I remember that grandpa Bokhor used to put me in his lap and asked me to sing. ‘Come on, Marga, come on, sing a little…’ Grandpa used to always pat me on the head, he used to be very kind with us all. He was more… in the evenings, the evenings, when we were around the table. He was very kind but he was grieving so much about the loss of my father that he caught heart tuberculosis and at the age of fifty-two he left this world.

My paternal grandfather Liyachi Selanikyo (1855 – 1940) was a shoemaker by profession and a merchant of weaving yarn, which he used to sell in a tiny shop. His kin were from Salonika, afterwards they lived in Sofia for a while and then they settled in Gorna Dzhumaya. He was illiterate and very religious. He attended the synagogue regularly and kept all the rituals. I knew that he liked helping my granny with the cooking, he was always around her. I remember he was a good and soft chap.

People from the whole district would come to buy from him. I recall that every morning he took there a can of milk and boiled it and whenever one of his grandchildren entered the shop, he would pour milk on some bread morsels and wouldn’t let us go until we had eaten everything. That was a habit of his. He liked to give his grandchildren little balls of sugar. He would even get up in the middle of the night and while we were sleeping would place a little sugar in our mouths while we were still half-asleep: ‘Eat sugar, little children!’ He was a good and soft chap. He wasn’t particularly jovial, he was more serious but otherwise he loved his grandchildren immensely and we used to have very good time together. My granny and grandpa loved each other very much and were living in utmost agreement. Grandpa had been a prisoner of war during the Serbian – Bulgarian War 8. When granny found out about that she decided to make them release him. At that time she was pregnant with her second child, she took her son and started for the camp. When the officers saw her they took pity on her and released my grandpa. My granny was a woman of character.

My paternal grandmother Ouroucha (? – 1948) was a healer and a midwife. She assisted at the child-birth of all the women in the town. Not a single woman would give birth without her. She was a healer too, she was able to heal lots of wounds, to fix twisted bones, to treat bruises… Her yard was always full of people from the whole district – from the town of Gotse Delchev or Nevrokop at that time, from the Balkan, from Petrich district, people from all kinds of places were coming for treatment from granny Ouroucha. I don’t know who taught her to heal, I can’t say that, but she was unique in that respect. She didn’t take money from her patients but when they returned after having fully recovered one would bring a chicken, another – eggs, whatever they had… In contrast to the other women granny didn’t like housework very much, she preferred to deal with social activities instead.

Although she wasn’t sparing her efforts she used to find some time for us as well. That was usually in the evening. Then, in our grandparents’ room she used to tell us fairy-tales and sing. And we, her grandchildren, liked to sleep there very much, we would lay mattresses on the floor and she would stand in the middle, imitating the fairy-tale characters while we were gaping at her. She was very artistic – much more open-minded in comparison with my other granny…

I remember one of the tales but I can’t quote the name. It was about a little girl who went by the well to take some water and there she was seen by a man with a drum. He stole her and hid her inside the drum but that cunning girl in order to let her parents know that she was in the drum started singing, ‘I went into your drum when I was at the fountain and there I left something – two little bracelets, on the fountain I hanged them.’ That was a child song. Granny was singing but her brother Bokhor was singing better. It was said my father used to sing a lot of songs. Only Spaniol was spoken in the houses of my grandparents. In Bulgarian, to be more precise – in Macedonian dialect they used to speak with their neighbors and acquaintances.

My first cousin in Israel Zhak Salan also has a wonderful voice and when they moved to Israel the first thing he did was to go to the old people institutions and to sing songs to the old people. You can see how he inherited from his grandmother not only the beautiful voice, but also the attitude towards the people. In return granny Ouroucha was a highly respected woman and when going to the synagogue, as she was living on the opposite bank of the river, until reaching the bridge, she would probably nod to a hundred people. ‘Good morning! Good morning!’… Everybody greeted her and she greeted them in return.
As you can see from the locations of the houses of my grandfathers and grandmothers the Jews were living everywhere in Gorna Dzhumaya but most of them were in Varosha. [’Varosh’ means a town, a town with a fortress; the word comes from the proto-Bulgarian word ‘var’ – to keep safe. At the moment the word is used in Bulgaria as a name of the renascence quarters in the center of certain towns]. There was the synagogue, the church, the Jewish quarter, well, that’s why we could say that the Jewish quarter was there.

There were Turks, Tsintsars, Wallachians 9. Well, now, Tsintsars and Wallachians, I don’t know what the difference is – some are of Greek origin, some – of Romanian or not, I don’t know exactly but all I can say that we all lived well.

I recall that at granny Ouroucha’s new house my cousin Zhak Salan was being circumcised. I was probably four or five at the time. There was everybody present – I had the feeling all the inhabitants of Gorna Dzhumaya were there, Bulgarians included. I remember, for example, that there were those very nice people – grandpa Angel and grandma Sevda who liked children very much and were our neighbors. And as their house was surrounded by a big garden all the children would often play there together. They were wonderful, kind people. The Jews in town were most often merchants and craftsmen, there were also quilt makers and most of all tobacco merchants.

In Gorna Dzhumaya there were mineral springs. I recall that I know a story in relation to that. I was always crying that my sister was going to school and I wasn’t yet. And one day, absolutely on purpose, I fell in a puddle out of anger that she wouldn’t take me to school with her. I went back home and then mum, since we used to have warm mineral sources in town, in the end nicely ‘scalded’ me in the fountain, which was in front of our house, so that I would never forget falling in puddles was not a nice thing to do.

I also remember the mineral public baths. It was out of the question to skip bath on Friday. We were all washed, combed, to meet Sabbath. We used to put a white table-cloth for Erevsabbath and everything was according to the tradition. The little glass of rakia 10 was a must for the grandparents but the one we are used to drinking – anise-flavored rakia, eggs were always on the table, and meat obligatorily for Erevsabbath and Yom Sabbath [the day of Sabbath]. On the other days we could eat dishes without meat. Traditions were of utmost importance.

The men – my relatives would go to the synagogue for Sabbath. We, the children would go there only on holidays – for Rosh Hashanah, for weddings… The children went there separately from the adults – with the friends, with the cousins. My sister was two years older than me and my other cousin was her age whereas I and the other Marga – a cousin who was my age, used to go behind the older girls. They didn’t like us around very much, the fact that we were tagging at their heels but we were not supposed to go anywhere alone – so we were always running after them.

I remember the synagogue too. The main hall was big according to my childhood memories. It had two floors. The women were always on the upper floor. It was wonderfully lit. The windows, if I remember correctly, were all on one side. There was a nice yard, very neat and tidy and very green. There were some wooden benches on which the old people were sitting and talking in summer. I remember there was a woman who was cleaning the synagogue. Her name was Tamar. She used to live in the building of the school, which was also in the yard of the synagogue.

How solemnly were all the people dressed! – in their best clothes. The women with veils on their heads. They were standing in another place - that’s how it is with us… And how the men were singing. Uncle Bokhor was singing, he liked singing very much… And so, I was looking at the women who were dressed up, nicely dressed, one – with an interesting scarf, with all the jewels, with decorations…

On the holidays in Gorna Dzhumaya like Purim, Rosh Hashanah, Pesach we used to gather with my grandparents, more often with the Kohen family. I recall that for Purim we used to sing a lot of songs.

And as I wanted to start school as soon as possible, after grandpa insisted on that, I started school earlier – at first I was only a listener but afterwards I directly enrolled in the second grade. There was no need to repeat the year because I knew more than the students in the first grade. And that’s how I spared a year. I remember that the Jewish school, which doesn’t exist now, was near the trade center and Varosha, near the hill. The students were distributed into two rooms – the first and second grades in one of them, the third and fourth grades – in the other. We were learning Ivrit and Bulgarian; we were singing lots of songs. I recall some of my teachers – Miss Douda Perets in Ivrit, Mrs Kashtanova in Bulgarian, Mrs Vasilka.

My mother Bouka Bokhor Kohen (1892 – 1961) was a strong woman and an exceptional person, a heroine. She was swarthy with long black hair and big black eyes. She remained a widow at the age of 25 – alone with three children. She didn’t have education, she was self-educated and learned alone to write in Spaniol. Later, when we moved to Plovdiv she used to write letters to our relatives in Gorna Dzhumaya in Spaniol. I can’t write in Spaniol, I can only speak. My mother could write – I don’t know how she had learned. I remember that at home we had an old bible in Spaniol and Ivrit. That was probably mama’s textbook. Probably grandpa – her father helped her with her studies. I had even asked her to teach me to write but I memorized only a few phrases with which I could inform her I was OK in my letters. When she remained alone she started sewing in order to make a living. That formed her behavior to a great extent. But for her cleaning was never that crucial as it was later for my mother-in-law. We were cleaning together – my mum and us – the children – once a week. For her the main concern were the children. In order to be near us all the time and look after us she invited all the friends, acquaintances and classmates here at home. She created good atmosphere and mood. Our house was always full of people. But I can’t say she had a lot of friends, she just didn’t have enough time, to keep her own contacts, conversations and visits. She was able to sew and to do manual labor but not for the fun of it – she used to scrape a living. She sewed our clothes too. She was cooking very well. I learned recipes from her that I later prepared for my husband.

My grandparents used to help us a lot but the main burden was falling on her. Although she had taken the full responsibility for us she had never put restrictions or forbidden us to do one thing or another so that she could feel not so worried about us. I remember that later in Plovdiv when I wanted to go to conferences in different towns along the Jewish organization lines she never stopped me. She always understood the young people and always gave us wonderful advice but at the same time she was holding the reins with a firm hand. She never cried - just the opposite – she was always ready for action. She wouldn’t shed tears in vain… When she saw that we were sad because of something or we were suffering she would take out the playing cards and we started playing. There was a prize for the winner – boza 11…

My brother, as he was a boy and heir of the family, was in danger of being spoilt by our grandparents on both sides. Mum realized that and decided to send him to Sofia in 1922, to an orphanage, a Jewish boarding house that existed there at the time, which I joined three years later.

She separated with him and when he finished his primary education in 1926 or 1927 she made him learn a craft – dental mechanics. And he became an exquisite dental mechanic. Her life wasn’t easy because she had to bury not only her husband but her son as well because he died at the age of 35, before getting married and then mum was 56.

Growing Up

Mum wanted to send my sister to a Jewish boarding house as well but she didn’t want to and was crying all the time and once while watching her I told mum: ‘Mum, if my sister doesn’t want to go, send me.’ So mum decided to send me to a Jewish boarding house in Sofia. I was 8 years old at the time and had already finished the second grade at the Jewish school in Gorna Dzhumaya…

So I lived in a boarding house in Sofia for four years. The old orphanage was in ‘Patriarkh Evtimii’ on the way to Aleksandrovska Hospital and then it moved opposite ‘Slavia’ Playfield, in the building where later ORT 12 was situated. We went to classes in the Jewish school, where now is the Rila Hotel. [In the past next to the tiny church ‘St. Nikolay’ in the center of Sofia was situated the Jewish school but around 1909 it was moved to some other place.] Every morning a teacher would take us there and we walked in lines. I remember some of the teachers from the school. For example, Miss Gertsovich who was teaching us History and Geography, Miss Petkova – in Literature and Bulgarian. She was extremely strict but we learned the language well because of that. My favorite subject was Literature. I went there when I was eight and a half years old. I wasn’t nostalgic. I was a calm child, much calmer than my sister. I used to be a good student and the teachers were surrounding me with love so I wasn’t in need of love and affection.

We had spare-time regime too. We were allowed to go out for an hour or two for a walk, to the shops or to visit relatives, if there were such. That’s how I visited my aunt Roza Ninyo. My aunt’s family – my father’s sister – used to live in Sofia at the time. That was the way to be in a cozy, homely atmosphere for a while.

At the junior high school trips were organized. They used to take us there, for some holiday like 1st May, for example, where now is Ivan Vazov quarter. There were lots of brooks and we would go to the first brook, then – to the second, to the third and so on. I managed to make some friends – with Sara Betsarel, she went to live in Israel later, with Victor Mandil.

While at the boarding school and the orphanage I managed to attend an anniversary, the 70-year anniversary of Ekaterina Karavelova 13, the wife of Petko Karavelov 14. I was supposed to give her a bunch of flowers on behalf of the boarding house. I moved closer to her and I was already on the stage I looked at her face and she was only blinking, blinking, blinking… I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see. And what do you think that was – she was blind. She had had a lot of worries with her two daughters. You’re already familiar with the tragedy of Lora Karavelova – Yavorov’s wife [she commited suicide in 1913; the other daughter Viola Karavelova was married to the famous journalist and writer of Jewish origin Josif Herbst, killed in the political repressions in 1925] [Peyo Yavorov] 15. Ekaterina Karavelova went blind but she was said to be the neck, which says which direction the head will turn… She was the most intelligent of them all.

I watched the opera ‘Gergana’ by Maestro Georgi Atanasov [(1882-1931) - a conductor, a composer, a pioneer of Bulgarian opera creative work, Pietro Mascani’s student] in the military club. I saw what opera was for the first time, until that time my favorite place for entertainment in Gorna Dzhumaya had been the river and now, all of a sudden, a river on stage and I went nearer and saw that the fountain they had been talking about was trembling a little. So I moved quickly to ask what that fountain was and the people around me started laughing…

We celebrated the Jewish holidays both at the orphanage and at school. For Purim we learned a lot of songs. For Pesach rich Jewish families would come and would take us to spend the whole eight days at their homes – for Pesach and then they returned us. I used to have relatives in Sofia but that was the organization. Each family would choose one of us. I remember the Baroukh family. The father was a representative of ‘Berakha’ Chocolate Factory in Sofia. I ate heaps of chocolates in that house. And not only at Pesach. They had a daughter who was as old as me. Her name was Nedka. In their house I saw a dressing table in the bedroom for the first time in my life and there were also chandeliers, splendid furniture. Once there was something of a misunderstanding. A first cousin of my mother’s whose name was Mari Chelebi Leveya wanted me to go to them for the holidays but by mistake I was taken to another family with the same name in Konyovitsa. [One of the oldest quarters in Sofia nowadays is Dras Mahala – near the freight depot and the other old poor quarter is Konyovitsa.] They were two nice old people, so kind, so cordial and dedicated to me although they were living rather poorly. They had a one-storey house in the middle of a big garden and there were houses in a line in the yard and every family lived in a separate house – like the gypsies. The old man would bring me a chocolate bar every day and said to me: ‘You’re such a midget, eat, eat.’ Such good people was this old couple, they were taking pity on me. So, after that, my mother’s cousin went to the principal and asked: ‘What happened to out girl, why didn’t she come to us?’ ‘What are you saying, I sent her to you!’ ‘Very far from the truth, she didn’t come to us…’

When I was in my second year at the orphanage my brother was already learning his craft in Sofia. They found a master for him whose name was uncle Boyan [a Bulgarian] with whom he studied dental mechanics. That master didn’t have children and they accepted him as their own child. He was taking my brother everywhere with his family – to the mountain or to the seaside. Whenever there was work for dental mechanics – there was my brother, together with uncle Boyan.

When we were in the third grade a lady from Plovdiv, a Jew, came to us, I can’t remember her name and she came to propagate, to instill in us the idea that we had to enroll in the Hashomer Hatzair organization 16. That was my first meeting with Zionism, for the first time we found out what this and that meant.

When I finished the third grade I returned to mummy in Plovdiv. I didn’t have the right to stay in the boarding house anymore. My mother had moved to Plovdiv with my sister as early as 1926. An aunt of mine whose name was Ester had asked her to do that so that she wouldn’t be alone anymore. ‘Let me have a sister at last, you don’t have a husband to be in your way, come if you want, Plovdiv is a bigger town, the children will feel better.’ After that in 1926 -1927 my brother went to her and continued with the dental mechanics. And that was how our migration took place. I finally moved to Plovdiv in 1930.

I don’t know but I underwent the change of the climate and water in Plovdiv. In Sofia and in Gorna Dzhumaya the climate is more mountainous. I was staying in Plovdiv while I was still at junior high school in the summer holiday and I remember that I was ill all the time. I was feeling so bad that the illness changed my body and when I came back the housekeeper asked me: ‘Are you a new girl?’ ‘No, madam, it’s me – Marga.’ ‘But I send you to your mother, not to an evil stepmother…’ Such were her words. I was so changed from the weakness and exhaustion, from the disease. Afterwards, I got used to the climate little by little.

Plovdiv in 1930s was a small town. There was no traffic. The streets were covered with stones. This street, in which now is the Jewish center, was a center for the children in winter. They were making slopes and used sledges. There was a Jewish quarter and there lived mainly poor Jews who had come from Odrin [Edirne, Turkey]. They didn’t know Bulgarian well and the dialect they used was extremely ugly. Otherwise, they were hard-working. Some of them were carrying baskets full of different foods and would sell them in the streets, others would sell tomatoes on stalls. They used to make pastry themselves and sold them, but culture was a concept unknown to them.

At first our rich relatives from Gorna Dzhumaya helped us financially but eventually my mother was forced to start work as a worker on wage. She started work at Haim Adroke’s factory ‘Akte’ and was making stripes for the military uniforms, silk chevrons and ribbons. The accountant of the factory was Aladzhemov who had visited the Kohen family in Blagoevgrad. He had visited the rich house and when he saw mum he got startled. ‘You, madam, aren’t you from Gorna Dzhumaya? What are you doing here?’ In other words – you don’t belong here as an ordinary worker. And mum told him: ‘Look, now, I’m not in Gorna Dzhumaya, I’m here now and that’s different?’.

At first our family was living near the Jewish quarter, near the church St. George. My mother had hired a room and a parlor, which was just next to the staircase. My sister and I used to sleep in the parlor and we could hear and see how the people from the upper floors were passing by but that didn’t bother us. Little by little we stepped on our feet. Mum was working, my brother in 1930 or 1931 started his own business as a dental mechanic and had regular customers and employees in his dental workshop. My sister left us because she got married in 1932 to the Jew Leon Albalakh and left for Chirpan. [The town of Chirpan is situated in the Upper-Thracian Lowland, in the southwestern part of Stara Zagora Region]. At that time about twenty Jewish families lived in Chirpan. Their houses were near the synagogue in the center of the town. I haven’t been to the synagogue and have no personal impressions of it. It seems to me there was a Jewish school but I’m not sure. Jews were also living in the village of Gradina, Purvomay Region. There lived a family that was attending the synagogue at Erev Sabbath and the other holidays. Most of the Jews from Chirpan were merchants. There was a family I knew – Basan – who were knitters. The Jews in Chirpan were very united. They were always in touch and helped each other. My sister was very much loved by them. The house that my sister and her husband Leon built was near the synagogue too. They had two children – Isak and Zhak. The Jewish children were different from the Bulgarian children. My sister’s children and the other Jewish children were always dressed up to the fashion in town. They regularly came to Plovdiv to buy or have clothes tailored for them in the big city. We could afford to rent a much better flat in ‘St. Kliment’ street and that’s what we did.

I started studying at high school. At that time the rules were as follows – there weren’t any grants for orphans no matter that I had good marks and an excellent diploma. If the orphans wanted to receive a grant they had to enroll in the Commercial High School or the vocational schools because you were an orphan and you had to become good at a certain craft for three years so that you wouldn’t burden the state. But I told mummy: ‘I’m not going anywhere, I want to study at the high school.’ And on top of that I had passed the entrance exam in Sofia for the Girls’ First High School. But mum turned out to be very practical. She went to the directorate – I don’t know which one, the one that this depended on and said: ‘You know, Mr. Director, my child will commit suicide if I don’t let her study at the high school.’ She gave a very serious reason and they made everything possible so that I could get a grant. I got the grant in the end. Can you see what one lonely widow can do? So I got the grant. There were 900 schoolgirls in the school and only four of us had received grants – two Jews and two Bulgarians. The grants were paid monthly for clothes and books.

Until that moment I had studied only in a Jewish environment and now I had to be in a mixed environment every day but that period wasn’t difficult for me from an emotional point of view, there weren’t consequences, I didn’t feel that. There were 30 schoolgirls in my class, five of which were Jews. I didn’t have any problems at high school connected to my origin, I didn’t feel any different. Just the opposite – I was immediately appointed chairperson of the class. As such I was responsible when the teachers were away. When we were left alone I was dealing with my classmates by telling them stories or singing songs. I was often an arbiter in different disputes and participated in the successful solution of some conflicts.

There was such a thing at the time. I was the chairperson for two years in a row. For the third I asked them to change me but I was chosen again. ‘Nothing like that, Margarita – you’re going to be chairperson again.’ I recall that in 1932 – 1933 a classmate whose name I can’t remember came to our class and started delivering speeches in which she was talking against the tsar. That was unacceptable then. The teachers found out about that and we were interrogated afterwards. I was the first because I was the chairperson of the class. ‘Tell us, Margarita, what did you hear and did you do as a chairperson?’ But I was very happy with the things the girl had said. I wasn’t very much against these things I should say. But I told them that at school we shouldn’t talk about politics, that wasn’t the right place. I wasn’t punished. As a whole, I succeeded in coping with my schoolmates.

I used to love Literature and History. I respected the teachers of these subjects. At first my teacher in History was Mrs. Stefanova. She wasn’t young at all but her lessons were extremely interesting. In the last grade she was replaced by another teacher but there was nothing in common between them. All of a sudden things became so schematic. The new teacher was dictating some plans all the time and we were only supposed to write them down in our notebooks – first point, second point… I stopped studying, I lost my interest completely. And do you know what she told me? ‘I saw in the register book that you, Margarita, had always had excellent marks in History. I know why you don’t study and are not an excellent student. Because you don’t want to study Bulgarian History.’ She was, how shall I put it, unnoticeable, plain… She couldn’t be compared to my other teacher. I didn’t get an A in the end, I got a B.

Apart from going to school every day we also visited Hashomer Hatzair. At the beginning we didn’t have uniforms but later we got them. Hashomer Hatzair was instilling a different culture in us and was introducing the spirit of Zionism. And I became a Zionist, I was always telling mum: ‘Do you know mum, I’m going to leave for Israel?’ and she replied ‘I have been looking after you since you were a piece of meat. Are you going to leave me now?’ and I was thinking of going to Israel - to do what the organization was lecturing us to do.
In the summer during the holidays Hashomer Hatzair organized camps. In the evening by the bonfire we would recite poems by Smirnenski 17, poems in Ivrit. The people from Sofia were very distinguished with their culture… The people from Ruse were different and they were even nicer. We were all women, you know the girls from Plovdiv and we did what we could in those performances. I remember a Bentsion from Ruse who was singing so nicely, opera arias. I wouldn’t have become a part of all that, if I had remained in Gorna Dzhumaya. All this could happen only in a big city.

I remember an evening in Tsigov Chark – an area between Rakitovo and Batak – we went out for a walk but we got separated from the main group and couldn’t find our way back. So what were we going to do now? There were some shepherds whom we met on our way, if they had been bad people they would have attacked us or at least start mocking us. There wasn’t anything like that. We lost the way – suddenly Rashka, a friend of mine, with whom we were classmates from the boarding school said: ‘Marga, those electric poles pass by the camp as well. And we started following the poles finding our way like that. And there was such alarm because of us being missing.

Once I poured gas into the salad instead of oil. And we had to eat salad with gas. In Plovdiv in our spare time we were again together with the other members of Hashomer Hatzair. I had two very good friends from the organization – Meriam and Debora. Both of them left the school because they wanted to learn a craft because they would need that later in the kibbutz in Palestine. Meriam became a seamstress, Debora – a shoemaker. I wanted to become a midwife and asked mum to let me enroll in the courses in Sofia but she didn’t agree because she wanted her children to be around. That’s why I had to finish the high school but my mother asked me for forgiveness at the end of her life because she hadn’t let me make that wish come true. We were particularly close with Meriam. I remember that when my brother caught typhus in 1932 I lived at her place for six months. We were together all the time, we were going to school. Meriam left for Israel and I visited her just before her death. Debora on the other hand was living in Bounardzhik [a quarter in Plovdiv, which is situated on one of the seven hills (tepeta), a symbol of the city]. I used to go to her house and call her, she showed on the window and I remained downstairs. So we used the Morse code to talk. She left for Israel too but I can’t say what happened to her. We didn’t keep in touch.

Additionally, in Hashomer Hatzair there were both boys and girls and we started looking at each other and started some relationships. It was a habit of ours after the activities to walk home with my friend Meriam. And one and the same young man was accompanying us every time. ‘I’ll take you home, I’ll walk home with you.’ Meriam and I were wondering who he was actually interested in – me or her. It turned out it was me… And little by little a friendship began that continued for two or three years. In the end when we turned 19 the people started asking: ‘Haven’t you got engaged?’ And one day I decided to ask him: ‘Tell me what I should tell them. Should I go on accepting their congratulations or not?’ He only told me: ‘Well, now… my sister is at home.’ And when I heard that I put an end – that was it. In fact that meant that he couldn’t take a girlfriend or a bride, whatever, home, he couldn’t… Later I found out that his mother was against because I was an orphan. May be she was dreaming of having a wealthy daughter-in-law. This way or another, afterwards a classmate from Sofia visited me and asked me: ‘What are your intentions? Do you plan to continue your relationship?’ I told her – no, that was the end. I went home and said: ‘You’re not going to accept him anymore, because…’ My brother, sweet thing, immediately suggested ‘You’ll come to me, to my company, don’t you worry…’ And that was what happened. The year was 1935.
I finished high school in 1935 and had matriculation exams only in two subjects; I didn’t have to sit for an exam in the other five subjects. My brother and my future husband knew each other because they were working for the Jewish conspiracy but in that same year there was a failure and my brother, Sharlo and 14 or 15 other people were arrested after a manifestation, I don’t know what that manifestation had been. At that time I was preparing for my matriculation but I was very upset indeed and was thinking about that all the time because I was bringing food to the arrested and I could see they were pale, tortured, beaten. I passed my exams with the lowest possible marks which, of course, influenced my final results but didn’t have any significance in my future life.

I had seen my future husband Sharlo [Shemuel Samuel Kohen, 1906-1988] with my brother. First they released him together with two or three other guys, on bail, but my brother was still in custody. They kept him there for six months and during the trial the prosecutor wanted many years prison for him but my mother intervened – through a cousin of hers she influenced the prosecutor’s wife, she influenced the prosecutor and my brother was released. Meanwhile, I bumped into Sharlo and a friend of his and told him that it was not fair that they were walking about like that and be free while there were others who are still in prison. They obviously realized what I was trying to tell them and came to take me from home and accompany me on a walk so that I wouldn’t be alone and sad. Afterwards I left for Chirpan to visit my sister. I recall that they came there to visit me and we came back home together by train. When I was getting off the train he reached out his hand to help me and embraced me so that I could feel his masculine strength.

So step by step we started dating and were getting to know and like each other more and more. My future husband Sharlo had finished the Jewish junior high school. After that he had enrolled the high school and had started studying there but his parents couldn’t afford it and he couldn’t finish it, he dropped out. He started work first as a carpenter, then he became a clerk and in the end, just before getting engaged, he started helping his parents. It was very nice to be with him, he was good company. He wasn’t picking on people, he was very tolerant and later, in marriage, he remained the same – very open-minded, easy-going and with great sense of humor – man with spirit. In fact, the choice was mutual but it seems to me his father liked me very much too. His parents were in the grain trade. When we met they were building the third floor of the house in which we are now. They were forced to mortgage it in order to complete it and they invested all their savings. We had already decided to get married, we had decided on the day for the wedding. My brother wanted his little sister to be happy so he paid the whole mortgage. And what did my brother ask me one day before my wedding – he caught my cheeks like that: ‘Tell me sister, what else do you want?’ ‘Me – to want anything!? I think I got more than I deserve.’

We first got engaged. So many guests came! The grandmothers, my brother-in-law, all of them came to visit us in ‘St. Kliment’ Street. After that the wedding took place in their house, not in the synagogue because my mother-in-law had apoplexy and couldn’t move. So the wedding was in the presence of a rabbi here on the third floor in 1939.

After the wedding we were living in my husband’s house with my mother-in-law, father-in-law, my brother-in-law Zhak who a year and a half later married the Jew Dora. We, the whole family Kohen, were living on the second floor and the first and the second were rented out. On the ground floor there was a shop which was also rented out. My mother-in-law was quite a dame and very house-proud. As a young bride she used to wake me up at five in the morning: ‘Come on, come on, let’s start cleaning!’ Mum would say: ‘My God, are you wearing aprons on Saturday?’ My mother liked cleanliness too but not as much as my mother-in-law. My mother-in-law’s behavior wasn’t very normal. She liked doing the same things every single day, and that turns into a routine, becomes very boring, but I couldn’t do anything. In fact, that cleaning was mainly my task because she couldn’t do it – she was paralyzed.

My husband Shemuel Samuel Kohen was born in 1906 in Samokov. He was a Sephardi Jew. He had three brothers – Leon, Mois and Zhak. My husband was the youngest – the fourth child. As a young man he studied for a carpenter but later he finished evening courses at the Trade School, he finished some accountancy courses and became an accountant. Afterwards, when the shop needed an accountant, instead of hiring somebody else, he quit the accountancy and started helping his father and brother. After 1944 he finished planner courses and worked as a planner at machine tools enterprises like ‘Balkan’ and ‘Madara’.

My son Samuil Kohen was born in 1940 on my mother’s insistence. We didn’t want children at that time yet but she had written in a letter to my sister that I had to give birth because anything could happen. She used to even come to our house to dare me to get pregnant. ‘Marga, how is the family, dear?’ She was asking about this and that. ‘I’m fine, mama.’ ‘Do you know that there are a lot of childless families? A lot of them bathe in the warm waters.’ And she described the situation to me. ‘And what about you?’ ‘Mama, I say, I’m still very tired of all the arrangements around the wedding, let us have some rest...’ ‘Come on, if you have a child, you’ll have a rest afterwards...’ After that when my son was born in 1940 mum used to help us a lot in his bringing up.

During the War

The war started in 1941. According to the Law for the Protection of the Nation 18 the authorities seized our shop and used it for fifteen or twenty years after that. Afterwards they returned it to us. They replaced our tenants with other people. On the first floor started living the judge on the Jewish issues Mr. Morfov and on the third – colonel Stoev and his wife. The colonel was a kind person. Whenever seeing that some of us was carrying a bucket with water, he grabbed it and helped us – a great big colonel, but his wife – ‘God forgive me!’ – was such an evil. She used to take me upstairs to her, to sleep at her place when her husband was absent so she asked me to sleep in her bedroom because she was afraid that someone would attack her and she didn’t want to be alone. And I agreed because when I visited her I could eat as much as I wanted – even cheese, and I could take for the child, and I was hungry too – so there was cheese, and yellow cheese, and sausages, there was everything on her table. So when she called me I would go because of the food and how can a person refuse – I don’t want to sleep at your place, I don’t know… After all he was chief of staff in the army. During one air-raid when the Americans were bombarding he started throwing me nasty looks: ‘Those Americans!’ – as if I had made them come.

I remember that the mayor was living opposite us at that time, his name was Velchev, together with his family. I used to go out on the balcony with my sister-in-law’s baby in hands and next to me was my little boy. His wife shouted at me: ‘Hey, you, Jew! Get out of there! Get inside, you don’t have the right to get out on the balconies.’ Another case – a milkman who used to bring the milk in the morning. His name was Stoyan. People used to pick on him: ‘Hey, you, why do you give milk to the Jews?’ But Stoyan replied: ‘Are you the master of my fortune! I’ll give to whoever I want to give!’

It was a really nasty situation. My husband had to leave for the forced labor camps in Mihalkovo, Ihtiman, Yagodovo 19. They were holding them there for eight months and then they were released. I remained alone with a 2,5-year-old child, with the in-laws. The hunger was unimaginable. My husband was away and couldn’t earn anything, my father-in-law was in the toilet all the time – to urinate – he was already seventy-something. And there were restrictions for our getting employed. I didn’t have anywhere to take money from and our shop had been seized and we didn’t get any rent from the tenants. I remember that I sold my wonderful silk nightgown, which I had never worn for food.

I have never been very interested in politics, I’ve never been a member of UYW 20 and never joined the [communist] party. My husband became a member of the party in 1936. I don’t understand anything about politics and when people are talking about it, it is as if I had gone deaf but one day I heard what my father-in-law was telling in the café: ‘Bad times are approaching-prepare bags with bread.’ He was neither speaking about politics a lot at home, nor giving any explanations. We never fully believed that something very bad was going to happen and they had confiscated our radio so that we wouldn’t receive any information. We were allowed to go out for only two hours a day. That was an additional factor for limiting our means of finding food and our contact with the world. There was that Bulgarian guy; his name was Spas. He was a very good-willed man – he used to buy curds from the shop and gave it out to the Jews. I couldn’t stop thanking him.

In 1943 there came seven people who started banging on the door persistently. Prepare. They took my mother-in-law and father-in-law first. I suggested immediately: ‘Let us, the young people, go. Where are you taking them, they can hardly walk.’ ‘You be quiet, you shouldn’t talk that much.’ After that they took us as well – me, my husband and my sister-in-law – who was pregnant in the ninth month and my brother-in-law, her husband. They took us to a police department  [Plan for deportation of Jews in Bulgaria] 21. Then bishop Kiril 22 came, who was still metropolitan at the time, and told us: ‘Be strong, brothers, we won’t let you down.’ We were also helped by other organizations and dignitaries such as the Lawyers’ Union and Dr. Kableshkov [The most eminent member of the Kableshkov family was Todor Loulchev Kableshkov 23] His grandson Nedyalko Kableshkov – you saw him yesterday – is my physician. He comes every day to check on me and doesn’t want any money. He is such a good chap – you can see. The first present I bought from Israel when I was there for the first time was for him. We were detained for several hours and released afterwards.

When the regular bombardments started the colonel and his wife were evacuated to Peshtera where there were barracks. And the ones who were living downstairs moved to Sofia little by little.

I almost tore my hair out of joy when I heard that the Soviet Army had entered Dobrudzha in 1944. [The Soviet Army crossed the Danube on 5th September 1944]. The families who were occupying our lodgings moved to some other places and we started living there again – my mother- and father-in-law, my brother-in-law, his wife and their children out of which only two had survived. In 1948 there was an epidemic of abdominal typhus. My brother-in-law got infected and died. My brother, who had come to visit us, also caught it. We lost both of them within a month. My brother who was getting ready to get engaged and mama remained alone at the age of 56. We buried them both in the Jewish cemetery following the traditional ritual. In 1950 my sister and her family left for Israel. I didn’t forget my plans to go to Israel but I couldn’t leave my mother alone here. And, because I knew she was grieving too much, I decided to have a second child – so that she would have what to do, to occupy her thoughts, so that she wouldn’t fall down into sad thoughts. That’s how in 1950 I gave birth to our second son Solomon. She was of great help with bringing up both children.

After the War

We were raising our kids in a Jewish spirit although my husband was a communist and atheist. They are both circumcised. Sami was an excellent student at school. He had received excellent marks and certificates. Whenever I was at a parents’meeting the teacher didn’t miss the opportunity to compliment me that I shouldn’t go there at all. Outside school he was playing the piano and had a tutor in French. He even enrolled in the Musical School but he gave up and dropped out. He enrolled in an ordinary school. My husband, who was a very clever and practical man, used the holidays to teach him how to tune pianos so that he would have a vocation. My biggest desire was for him to study medicine because that was my unfulfilled dream. But he chose his own path – he graduated from the Law Department in Sofia. As an award for his graduation I decided to sponsor his move to Israel. So in 1965 he went to his aunt in Israel and lived there for thirty years. In 1968 he got married there – to a sabra. His wife’s name is Lea. I couldn’t attend the wedding because at the time the relations between Bulgaria and Israel weren’t good and the authorities wouldn’t even let us travel to there [Severing the diplomatic ties between the Eastern Bloc and Israel] 24. In Israel he had worked as a piano tuner. He has two twin sisters – Margarit and Tamar and a son – Eran – who committed suicide. He returned to Bulgaria in 1993 and now he is unemployed here.

My younger son Ouri has only primary education. He got meningitis, which the doctors discovered at a late stage, and it transformed into schizophrenia. We did everything possible to deal with the disease. We even sold part of the house – we were all the time spending money on doctors but it was irreversible. Now he is in the mental institution in the village of Petkovo.

Both of my children were raised in Jewish self-awareness. They knew what Pesach was, we celebrated Purim. We weren’t meticulous about sticking to the ritual but we celebrate the holidays and still do. I even remember that once I was alone with my younger son at Pesach. My older son was already a student in Sofia and my husband was in the town of Hisarya because of the mineral baths there. No matter what the circumstances were I had ordered and put everything according to the ritual because of Ouri, so that he would know what that was, and – all of a sudden – my husband came back home and we were very happy and had great fun. We have always kept in touch with the Jewish community although, apart from Hashomer Hatzair, I hadn’t been a member of any organizations. The cuisine at home is also typically Jewish. My husband liked indjinarika very much – marrows with sour sauce. First, you cut the marrows in big pieces so that they wouldn’t become squashy. They are boiled into oil. You out salt in the end so that they get ready quickly. After that you put lemon juice and a little sugar. It is served cold and it is very delicious. I used to make agristada very often too – flour gruel with a lot of eggs, broth and oil. It is very important to dissolve the flour into cold water or broth. The broth is most often from hen or brains. Afterwards you pour the sauce over the boiled meat. Mum, on the other hand, used to prepare a very delicious meal from aubergine. Firstly, you bake the aubergine. After that you peel them and put them into cold water so that they wouldn’t go black. Then they are sieved through a thin piece of cloth, cut into slices, rolled into flour and egg and fried in butter. That dish is called ‘imambayaldu’. Some people consider it to be a Turkish dish but I know it from my mother. Another thing I prepare is cabbage with minced meat instead of meat.

As a Jew I had never had problems at my workplace because of my origin. When I was a young girl I worked as a clerk and I was also assisting my brother with the dental mechanics. Until 1952 I was only a housewife. Afterwards I worked for a while as a librarian at ‘Balkan’ State Company and then, until 1965, as a receptionist in hospital. I have to tell you that in my last job as a receptionist I had a serious conflict with my only colleague who was a Jew. I couldn’t get on with her and quit. At that time my younger son fell ill and I didn’t want to work anymore. I retired with only 14 years work experience due to illness. I remember only that at one stage I was in danger to be interned because I knew Ivrit (during the cold war with Israel). They believed that if I knew Ivrit it meant we were Zionists. Somebody had whispered this information to the authorities. I know Ivrit from the Jewish school and I think that this is not a sin but, this way or another, that story is already a part of the past.

Otherwise, I have always been and will remain a Zionist. I think that the state of Israel must exist and I have always kept in contact through letters with my relatives there. I remember that during the war for the Suez Canal [she means actually the Six-Day-War] 25 my son was already there. In order not to think, not to go crazy I unknitted all the socks that I had and knitted the counterpanes and the pillows which you can see here. My husband was ill at the time and I was sitting next to him – knitting and listening to the little radio to find out where the military actions were and I was thinking about Sami all the time, about what was happening to him. I visited Israel twice - in 1961 and in 1989.

My mother died in 1961. We buried her according to the Jewish ritual in the Jewish cemetery. My husband died in 1988 but we didn’t bury him in the Jewish cemetery but in the Bulgarian one because they were building a highway, which was supposed to pass through the Jewish cemetery.

I met the changes since 1989 26 with mixed feelings. I wanted for the transition period to pass to see what will happen but it turned out to be really long. I thought it would last for only five or six years. My son returned in 1993. Now my life is hard. We gave up the comfort at home. Some of the premises of the houses we rented out and now everybody is living in their own den. I and my son live in two tiny rooms. That was what happened during the Holocaust but now it is somewhat different because we opted for that situation. And in the past we were forced to do things.

I used to visit Shalom 27 regularly. I met a lot of friends there. But not anymore because my feet hurt. I am a member of the club for disabled people. I am very grateful that they help us financially and in any other possible way. They give us a free lunch every day. Well, they actually give us 24 levs, which I spend on food. I am grateful that I have a pension and I am not fully dependent on my son.

Glossary

Hertz Rogovoy 
Kiev
Ukraine
Date of the interview: October 2004
Interviewer: Ella Levitskaya

Hertz Rogovoy was interviewed by me in Hesed 1, after Hertz went through with reception of patients. He works as a volunteer doctor in Hesed. Hertz is a middle-aged man, with a mop of grey hair, bright young eyes and a splendid smile. As a consequence of a severe battle injury Hertz became handicapped. He is afflicted with lameness and leans on a stick. Nonetheless, Hertz is a very sociable and brisk man. He is very pleasant-looking man, an interesting personality and a good company. He has a great sense of humor. Hertz was an interesting interlocutor, having his own view on the events, with unusual interpretation of familiar notions and events.

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War

The fall of Communism

Glossary

My family background

My father’s family lived in Kiev before revolution of the year of 1917 [Russian Revolution of 1917] 2, during the times of pale of settlement [Jewish Pale of Settlement] 3. Only few Jews were allowed to live in Kiev. The privilege was given to the lawyers, doctors, merchants of the 1st and 2nd Guilds 4 and certain craftsmen, whose services were in demand. Craftsmen were allowed to reside on the streamside part of Kiev, Podol 5. This latter is now the center of Kiev being the outskirts back in those times. My father’s family used to live on Mezhygorkaya street. My father’s parents passed away by then. There is nothing I know about my grandmother. I do not even know her name. My grandfather’s name was Hersh, judging by my patronymic. All I know about my grandfather is that he worked in the brewery, and that he died in 1911. My grandfather’s grave was on the Jewish Lukyanovskoye cemetery 6 in Kiev. When the cemetery was destroyed in the 1960s, I took my grandfather’s ashes and his tombstone to the Jewish plot of the city cemetery. That is all I can say about my father’s parents.

My father came from a large family. My father eldest brother’s name was Hertz, and I was named after him. My father, Moses Rogovoy, was born in 1879. Apart from two sons, my grandparents had three daughters- Golda, the eldest, Berta, the middle, and Feiga, the youngest. I do not know when they were born. 

My father’s family was by all means religious. At that time there were no unreligious families. I do not know what Jewish education my father got. I know he knew how to read Hebrew and pray. He had, as all religious Jew was supposed to have, tallit, tefillin, prayer books. The family stuck to Jewish traditions, and children were raised as Jews. My father went to Realschule 7, but I do not think he finished it. Of course, he was fluent in Yiddish [it was his mother tongue] and he was also proficient in Russian, and wrote literately.

Before 1917 my dad worked as salesman in the store that belonged to Swarzman, the Jewish manufacture, merchant of the 1st Guild. His store was located in Podol. Swarzman highly appreciated my father, and in course of time he even promoted my father to the title of the merchant of the 2nd Guild

Hertz, my father’s eldest brother, worked with my grandfather at the brewery plant. He was married and had three sons: Moshko, Shulim, Boris and one daughter Sarah. According to the Jewish laws my father was not entitled to get married before all his sisters had been married, because he was younger than them. [Editor’s note: this interdiction was probably a local tradition, as it doesn’t appear in halakhah.] Golda and Feiga got married off quickly. I do not remember Golda’s husband. Kiev Jew Mendel Lipskiy proposed to Feiga. They had daughter Bronya and son Grigoriy. It was difficult for the father to marry off Berta. She was very homely, and there were no wooers. That is why my father could not get married. Finally, my father was able to find a fiancé for Berta, whose name was Lisyanskiy, an elderly Jew, Nikolay’s army soldier 8, who served full term in the army, i.e. 25 years. My father married off Berta, and in the end, he was able to think of his marriage. He was 33 by that time [1912]. Almost all marriages were prearranged. My father rendered to a matchmaker [shadkhan], who told him about a beautiful eligible maid in Zhitomir [Ukraine]. My father went to Zhitomir [140 km from Kiev] to propose to her.

Zhitomir was one of the most ancient cities in Ukraine. At the beginning of the 20th century its population was a little less than 100 thousand people. Zhitomir was mostly inhabited by Russians, Poles and Jews. Jewish population made 30% [Editor’s note: In 1897 the Jewish population was 30 748 comprising 46.6% of the general population. In 1910 they numbered 38,427.] Jews lived in the downtown area along with the representatives of Russian and Polish intelligentsia and well-off people. The downtown houses were mostly two-storied and made of stone. Zhitomir Jews were mostly craftsmen and merchants. There were also Jewish intelligentsia: doctors, lawyers and teachers. Most Russians and Poles lived in the outskirts of the city. They dealt with agriculture. People were friendly, many generations lived in one place. There was a large Jewish community in Zhitomir. There were a lot of synagogues. Even after the Great Patriotic War 9 and struggle against religion 10, carried out by Soviet regime, there were at least five synagogues left [Editor’s note: Zhitomir Jewish community was so large and influential that even during and after struggle against religion there were five acting synagogues, which was unusual], while originally there were way more of them [about 50]. There was cheder in the city and Yeshiva. The Jewish community in Zhitomir was very large, which focused on charity, assisting the poor and indigent. There was Jewish orphanage, alms house and hospital. During the Civil War 11 there were pogroms (bashings) 12 in Zhitomir. The local people usually harbored Jewish families.

My maternal grandfather’s name was Sheftel Knopp. He was born in Zhitomir. I do not remember his birth date. I did not know my grandmother’s name. Before 1917 my grandfather owned glass workshop and a store, where glassware, produced in workshop, was on offer and the orders were taken. Grandmother helped my grandfather with the workshop and the store. Once, either in 1914 or 1915 a customer asked to a glaze the icon [Christian families traditionally had icons in their homes, unless some of their members were convinced communists. Most older people in villages remained religious]. Grandmother fulfilled the order the way the customer asked. And when the customer came to pick up the order, he either had not paid or underpaid my grandmother, I cannot tell for sure. Grandmother was enraged, grabbed the icon and hurled so hard that the glass got broken. She was blamed in sacrilege and insult to the Orthodox sacred thing. The customer filed a charge against my grandmother, and as a consequence she was to be exiled in Siberia. Grandfather spent a lot of money on attorneys, but his efforts were futile. The authorities were willing to make an ostentatious trial so that other Jews would in no way insult Orthodoxy. Revolution saved my grandmother, the soviet regime started a struggle against religion, and my grandmother’s culprit was overlooked. But due to constant worries grandmother got afflicted with breast cancer and passed away a rather young woman in 1919.

From grandfather’s kin I just knew his brother, Reuben Knopp. Reuben’s house was by grandfather’s house. Reuben had many children, he himself did not remember their names. At times he would call some of his kids: ‘Hey you. What’s your name?’ ’Haim‘ ’Haim, go and tell mama, that I am hungry.’ Grandfather was very tidy, but Reuben was ill-kempt, wearing his pants unzipped. Grandfather used to joke that his brother did not zip up his pants, because he did not have time for it since he was making children.

The Knopps had six children. My mother Bella Knopp (Jewish name Beila) was the eldest, she was born in 1891. Then her sister Khasya was born, brothers Boris, Mikhel, Grigoriy, Hersh and the youngest sister Manya. Everybody in the family spoke Yiddish. In Zhitomir even many non-Jewish people were fluent in Yiddish, and Jews in its turn were fluent in Ukrainian and Polish. All children knew how to read and write Yiddish. I do not know what education my mother and her siblings got. I would say it was rudimentary. Anyway, I remember the fact that my mother corresponded with her kin only in Yiddish. Later in the post-war period my mother started writing in Russian.

All mother’s brothers and sisters left paternal home. Mother’s sister Khasya married Grouzer and lived in Kiev. Her husband Motl Grouzer worked as an electrician on the shoe factory. Khasya was a house-wife. They had two children. The daughter Liya was born in 1923 and the son Naum in 1924. Boris lived in Donetsk. He was married and had children. Mikhel lived in Vinnytsia with his family. He had a son Shunya, born at the end of the 1920s. Grigoriy abandoned his father, because grandfather was a private entrepreneur and it would stand in the way of his career. Grigoriy left for Moscow, graduated from Polytechnic institute. He lived in Moscow with his family. Mother’s younger sister Mayna lived in Kiev with her family. Her husband was a professional military. Manya had two sons. Yuri was born in 1934, Yan in 1938.

Of course, the entire family was religious. It could not have been otherwise in such a city as Zhitomir. Nevertheless, I did not happen to meet such a religious man as my mother’s father. My grandfather always wore kippah on his head. He took it off only before going to bed. My grandfather kept to praying and reading religious books. I remember a huge bookcase in his room very well. There were a lot of religious books in it. My grandfather was an inveterate stickler of all Jewish traditions. Sometimes my mother took me to Zhitomir, when she went there to visit her family. Once we came for Pesach. I remember how my grandfather carried out first paschal Seder. Grandfather clad in white attire was sitting on the pillows, as it was supposed for a king. I remember all Seder rites- when I was to steal a piece of matzah, afikoman from my grandfather. I also recollect the wine glass for the Elijah ha-nevi, placed in the middle of the table. Grandfather told me to look at the glass. I was looking very closely, and it seemed to me that there was getting less wine in the glass. I was sure it was Elijah ha-nevi who sipped wine from the glass. I remember wine goblet, placed on the table- they were beautiful, made of blue glass. Seder lasted for a long time, and it was tiresome for everybody, but grandfather did not admit any reductions. During the war grandfather was evacuated. When he came back, he had not found his books. He began to collect religious books once again. I cannot perceive how he could manage to get such books in former USSR. He was able to collect many antique religious books.

Father’s wooing was successful and at the beginning of 1912 my parents got married in Kiev. It was a traditional Jewish wedding. Parents had a marriage certificate issued by rabbi. My elder brother Grigoriy was born on December 28, 1912. In the year of 1917 my second brother Lev was born. He died the year when I was born, 1924. Mother and Lev went to Zhitomir to see her relatives, and Lev died there as a result of either meningitis or heliosis [sunstroke]. He was buried in Zhitomir in Jewish cemetery, next to my grandmother. 

Growing up

I was born in August 1924. I was named Hertz after eldest brother of my father, who died a year before, 1923. He was buried in Lukianovskoy Jewish cemetery in Kiev.

Father told me about Jewish Pogroms in Kiev. They started before revolution and lasted until 1919. I learnt from my father certain things I was not aware of. I always thought that pogroms were made by denikintsy [henchmen of Denikin] 13, petliurovtsy [henchmen of Petliura] 14, makhnovtsy [henchmen of Makhno] 15 and other gangs 16 being hostile to the soviet regime. It turned out that soviet militaries, Schors 17 troops and other were involved in pogroms. They also plundered and often murdered Jews. It was a hard time, both revolution and civil war. Power in Kiev often changed, circulating between regimes. The order in city was established only in 1919. Unfortunately, I know hardly anything how my family lived in that period of time. By the fragmental recollections I can only say that it was a hard time for my dad. The store where my father worked was most likely nationalized by new regime. My father could only regain footing due to NEP 18. First he began working as a salesman in the store, gradually became the owner of the store. He bought a good apartment at Bolshaya Podvalnaya street, in the center of Kiev. Unfortunately, NEP period was of short duration. When the soviet regime decided to do away with private entrepreneurship and transfer to planned economy private entrepreneurs, so-called nepmans [‘NEPist, people dealing with NEP’ in Russian] at that time were suffocated by taxes. Those taxes could be changed 3-4 annually. Hardly had one tax been paid, when another was levied, exceeding the preceding one 2 or 3 times as much. Smart people dropped everything and escaped abroad. Unfortunately my father did not turn out to be sagacious. He was arrested as an offender of tax laws. He went through a trial and was sentenced to 3 years in GULAG 19. After the trial my father was sent to the camps in Solikamsk [Russia, about 2000 km from Kiev]. Even after he was released, he was not entitled to return home, he had to be exiled for a while.

I remember myself from the six-year age. My father was exiled at that time, and my mother and I lodged in Podol, at Obolonskayka street. My elder brother Grigoriy had become adult by that time and moved from Kiev. He finished secondary school and wanted to go on with education. Father was repressed, and it would be an obstacle for Grigoriy if he stayed in Kiev. He had to conceal father’s arrest. Moreover, only children of proletarians and peasants were accepted in vocational schools and institutes [Family of persons arrested as “enemy of the people” 20 was deprived of many civil rights and their children were allowed to study in higher educational institutions only accordingly to predetermined quotas. By this kind of quotas communists declared themselves to protect the interests of the oppressed working class and peasants.]. It goes without saying that nepman’s son, whose father was convicted for tax dodging, could not be accepted. It was called ‘suppression of rights’. Brother left for a small town Konstantinovka [about 550 km from Kiev], located in Donetsk oblast and entered chemical and silicate vocational school, the faculty of construction materials manufacturing. Nobody knew about our family in Konstantinovo, therefore my brother was accepted. Of course, he filled in certain entry in the form by writing that his father was a worker. Grigoriy rarely came to Kiev for a day or two, but he did it stealthily so that the neighbors could not see him. Brother got married at a young age during his studies in vocational school. His wife’s name was Anna. She was a Jew, and her father was also repressed. Brother stayed to work in Konstantinovo after he had finished his studies.

Mother did not work before father’s exile. When my mother and I were left on our own, she found a job in some sort of workshop. I do not know what her job was like. The most important that she was paid. Of course we lived from hand to mouth. The most jovial event for me was when mother took me to the market, which was located close to our house, and bought me a big rice patty. It was a real feast! We were starving. But my mother strove to support me. It is the most delighted recollection from those times, but there are others. I remember there was a tram line near our house. The trams were remade from horse chaises. There were no doors, and the steps were along entire train. I remember that there were very many homeless children. At that time streets started being asphalted. There were large cauldrons, where asphalt and pitch were melted. The melted mass was ladled and rolled manually with the rollers. In the evenings when the workers left, vagrants were warming in the cauldrons. I remember the famine of 1932-33 [famine in Ukraine] 21. There were a lot of peasants in Podol, who left villages for the city, trying to survive from starvation. Their bodies were swollen from famine. Some of them could not walk, stretching their hands for alms, others kept lying, without being able even ask for alms. In the morning there were found corpses of people who died by hunger. They were taken away. I remember that near our house the columns of ’dispossessed’ [Kulaks] 22 went by being escorted by militia. Militiamen were in blue caps with red bands, carrying pistols in their hands. I remember the first loud-speaker in our house, a big black wall plate.

In 1932 mother took me to Zhitomir. We went to the wedding of my mother’s younger sister Manya. The wedding was traditionally Jewish, despite of the times, when the soviet regime streamlined struggle with religion. Everything was the way the Jewish wedding should be. I remember chuppah, placed in my grandfather’s yard. Manya and her groom David were walking under chuppah, then the rabbi pronounced a traditional wedding formula. I forgot the details, but they stuck to tradition.

In 1938 father returned from exile. Parents lodged in private house on the left bank of Dnieper river. Now it is the recreational area of the Kievites–Hydropark, back in those times that district was called Predmostnaya Slobodka [‘outskirts’ in Russian]. Father found a job to sell newspapers and magazines in a kiosk. 

After father’s return my brother Grigoriy moved to Kiev with his family. At that time there were few people who even got the middle technical education. In spite of the fact that my brother graduated from a mere vocational school he worked as a chief engineer for a construction trust in Kiev. In 1936 Stalin constitution was brought into action [on 5 December 1936 the second Constitution of the Soviet Union was adopted and it was commonly called the Stalin’s Constitution. It existed till 1977], which abolished ’suppression of rights‘. My brothers had nothing to fear. Grigoriy’s elder daughter Tsilya was born in Konstantinovo in 1935, and the younger daughter Liudmila was born in 1937. Brother was very talented, he had a wonderful voice. He was sent to talent contests in Moscow, where he won 1st prizes. There were articles about him in the paper Izvestiya [one of the most popular communistic papers in the USSR, issued in the period of 1917- 1980s, with the circulation exceeding eight million copies]. If brother had finished conservatoire instead of technical vocational school, he would definitely become a well-known singer.

As a rule my parents spoke Russian to me at home, and they spoke Russian between themselves. If they wanted to conceal something from me, they spoke Yiddish. I felt insulted because they kept secrets from me. That is why I voluntarily got the rudiments of Yiddish, and later on I began to comprehend all they were saying. Of course, I pretended I did not understand a thing. I was pleased to find out their secrets without them knowing about it.

My parents were not very religious. The life was hard and it was difficult to stick to all Jewish traditions. I do not remember if we observed kashrut at home. But my father never missed any religious holiday in the synagogue. He obligatorily celebrated Yom Kippur, fasted the proper way. It was sacred to him. My mother and I always went to meet father on his way back from the synagogue. It was in the post-war period, when I was the student of the medical institute. We always celebrated Pesach at home. Beforehand we cleaned the house from chametz. During all Pesach days we used to eat only matzah instead of bread. All holiday were celebrated strictly according to the traditions. Father knew how to read Hebrew and pray. I do not remember how other holidays were celebrated. All I remember is that I was given money by father for Chanukkah. 

I went to school at the age of seven. At that time the fist grade started at the age of 8, and I was accepted in the pre-school. It was a Russian-speaking school. I cannot say that I was an outstanding pupil, but I was a pretty good one. I liked such subjects as literature, history, geography, natural studies. I always got excellent marks for those subjects. Mathematics was not my favorite. I became an inveterate philatelist at school. Many boys had a hobby to collect stamps, but the passion to collect stamps had not gone. Probably this is the part of childhood that has remained with me by now. Later during the war, I started to collect awards. My collection started when I removed Iron Cross from the first and the second class and Austrian military medal from a captured German. Those 'trophies’ were taken near Kursk in 1942. Our reconnoiters took a captive, cross-examined him and shot. The commander allowed me to take his military awards. Even when I was severely wounded I preserved such precious things. They were the grounds for my post-war collection and I still keep them.

There were a lot of Jewish children in our class. Neither teachers nor other pupils pointed at us. They were not antagonistic. Sometimes during the street frays you could hear the word ’zhyd’ [‘Zhyd’ abusive nickname of Jews in the Soviet Union], blurted out in the ardent fray, but it never happened in school. I do not remember pre-war anti-Semitism. I think it did not take place.

I became oktyabrenok [Young Octobrist] 23 in school, then pioneer [All-Union pioneer] 24. It stood to reason. Nobody objected to it. You could refuse, but those who did naturally became ”black sheep”. Even a child knew you should not do so. Moreover, in the peoples’ psychology it was singled out: those who are not with us, are against us — the old slogan of the communists. Everybody understood it, even children.

In 1935 I went to another school to the 6th grade. That school grew with us. We finished the 6th grade, and they opened up the 7th etc. I sat at a desk with Jacob Koffman, and we have remained friends until now. At present we keep in touch, call each other.  

In 1936 repressions started [Great Terror] 25 and lasted until Great Patriotic War. There were a lot of children in our class, whose parents had been arrested. Probably those made about 2/3 of the class. People treated them in a normal way, nobody abandoned friends, just because their father or mother got arrested. Jacob Lidov was my friend. His father was a driver of Balitskiy, NKVD 26 minister, a slaughterous hangsman. Stalin had a certain system: a person had a leading position in NKVD for 2-3 years, and then he was removed and put to trial аs ”enemy of the people”. He was replaced with a new one. Balitskiy in his turn became enemy of the people and was shot. His driver, Jacob Lidov’s father, was imprisoned. Jacob’s mother came to NKVD with the fairing for her husband, and she was told that he was not alive. She died there in the reception office. Jacob remained an orphan, he was raised by an old grandmother. There was a Ukrainian girl in our class, named Galina Uschipovskaya. Her mother was shot, and her father was put in jail. There were many such kinds of families. It even had not caused any emotions. The savage to us was that very often the teacher began the lesson by telling us to turn out from the textbook the page with the picture or information about a well-known person. In case we could not remove the page, because there was something useful overleaf, we were told to delete or to paint in blank ink or to clout that piece. Once we learned at a history lesson: Blyukher 27, the great commander, marshal of the Soviet Union, and the next day we would have to cover his portrait with black ink. Today he is a loyal communist, a struggler for the revolution, the hero, and tomorrow he turns out to be enemy of the people, betrayer, spy, coward or other riff-raff. The best people of the country, renowned revolutionaries, commander Yakir 28 – there were so many of them… Of course our children’s minds could not comprehend it. I could acutely feel such an inconsistence.

Sometimes there were ridiculous things. Father worked as a salesman in the newspaper kiosk, located on the central market in Kiev. Close to him there was a table of an elderly Jew, who sold the portraits of the politicians, which was customary at that time. His table was placed inside of the roofed market next to the counter. There was a sign over the counter ’Slaughtered poultry’. And it happened so that the portrait of some member of the Central Committee was hanging right under that sign. Such a nebbish salesman was taken away by NKVD people, and nobody had never seen him since then.

My father and I were very close. He loved me very much, maybe for the reason that I was the junior. Father was a very intelligent man, well-read and politically-minded. My friends respected him, even when we became adults. My friends took humiliation of the Jewish peoples very hard. I remember he often used to say: ’Why Tartar and Gypsy songs are broadcast on the radio, and there are no Jewish songs? Shall we have lived by the time when it happens?’. Of course I was moved by that spirit of my father. Of course after all father had to go through, he did not trust the soviet regime very much, and due to that we argued with my father, if a discussion of a 14-15 years old boy with a wise grown-up man can be taken for a dispute. Father mocked at my ideals. I remember how I used to prove that Dzerzhinskiy 29 – the chevalier of the revolution, whose motto was: ‘warm heart, sober mind and clean hands’. But my father objected to me, telling that Dzerzhinskiy was a bandit, who shot innocent people. How could I independently think at that time? Propaganda and slogans reverberating all day long thought for us. At times I was even ready for Pavlik Morozov’s feat 30, I wanted to stooge for my father, but probably the sense of decency, inherited from my parents, stopped me. 1936, 1937 … these were the years, when children were called upon and encouraged to betray their parents. Such disputes were not occasional. I was brought up by the soviet school, in a certain spirit. Knowledge came much later, when I learnt from life. At that time my life was short, tiny and unperceived.

During the second half of the 1930s anti-fascist propaganda started. In 1933 Hitler came to power in Germany. First it was spoken about casually. Then fascist speeches were broadcasted on the radio. Articles appeared in the papers. But my father was so anti-soviet, that he did not believe a thing. I remember his phrase: ’If they implied «yes» in the official propaganda, I take it as «no».’ He considered all anti-Hitler slogans as propaganda. In the cinemas anti-fascist movies were demonstrated, such as «Professor Mamlok» 31 and others, where atrocity of the fascists was shown. At that time there were only soviet movies.  A new film appeared once a month, which was viewed many times. We had a particular clear vision of fascism, when the war in Spain [Spanish Civil War] 32 was unleashed. Documentaries were cast, showing bombings and battles. Bereaved children were brought from Spain. Of course, Hitler caused antipathy with most of people. I remember how everybody was confounded when in 1939 Stalin signed a peace treaty with Hitler, the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact 33. I was so perturbed and shocked when at school we were crossing out from the books the names and portraits of the former greats and the greatests, now being enemies of the people. I could not perceive how Hitler, the fascist and criminal in our propaganda, turned into a great politician. Stalin and Hitler immediately started to divide Poland [Invasion of Poland] 34, and torn into pieces. At that time there was a joke about Polish sausage: ’What is the name of Polish sausage now? Russian and German’. People were aware that for such an anecdote they could be put in jail, but they still cracked that joke. Friendship and affection between USSR and Germany was demonstrated. The articles appearing in the papers with the stories how brave sailors of the German cruiser sunk British vessel. We were shocked, and it was very hard to «swallow» it. All anti-fascist movies were banned, as if they never existed. And then appeared films, stolen by the soviet troops from the occupied Poland, forcedly joined Baltic countries [Occupation of the Baltic Republics] 35 and Western Ukraine: a magnificent movie «Great Waltz» [melodrama, shot in 1938 by Julien Duvivier, the American producer], Charlie Chaplin’s movies 36 «City Lights» [Chaplin, 1931] and «Modern Times» [Chaplin, 1936], new German movies appeared.

During the War

My father was given lodging by local authorities. It was one-room in the wooden house in the center of Kiev, Krasnoarmeyskaya street [present Bolshaya Vasilkovskaya street]. The room was in a terrible condition, without lavatory and water. But at least it was our lodging, not the rented. We lived there before Great Patriotic War started. Then I went to the Army.

In 1941 when I was in the 9th grade, I joined Komsomol 37. It was natural for me: I believed in communistic ideas and I honestly considered Komsomol to be the vanguard of the youth. I could not imagine myself not being in Komsomol. In June 1941 I finished the 9th grade. Summer holidays were to start. There were a lot of military trainings and maneuvers by Kiev. We were used to shooting and blasts. That is why when we heard the remote sounds of the blasted shells in the morning on 22 June, we did not react to it. We thought those were routine trainings. Only when we heard Molotov’s 38 speech on the radio on 12 p.m., we found out that the war was unleashed with fierce battle, and that Germany attacked USSR at 4 a.m. without declaring war. I remember how we crowded by the black wall loud-speaker to be listening to Molotov’s speech with our hearts sinking. 

On June 21, 1941 my elder brother was called up in the army. When we learned about the war, my brother’s wife Anna and I went to see my brother in Solomenskiy [district of Kiev] military quarters. Grigoriy was not allowed to get out from there, and stayed behind the hence and spoke to us.

Very quickly all students of the senior grades, who did not reach the age of the draftees, got the notices from military enlistment offices to be involved in construction of defense fortifications around Kiev. Some pupils were sent to Svyatoshino, others, including me to Goloseyevo [at that time remote districts of Kiev, today central districts].We were given the spades, which were very heavy for us. We had to dig anti-tank trenches. Nobody made us work very swiftly, but we, the boys, were trying to outdo each other, and it all crowned with cons and blisters. We bandaged injured hands and kept on digging. It lasted for couple of days, and then we had the first baptism of fire. At night we could hear the humming of plane. We were woken up, and told that Germans sent landing troops. We were given training with drilled barrel so we could not shoot and told us to run in the indicated direction as if we were chasing wolves. At dawn a grenade exploded close to me. I deafened from the blast, and could not hear anything. They let me go home to recover. I could not hear anything for three days, and then I got my hearing back. On July, 10 we received official notices to appear in military enlistment office, and take a spoon, a mug and provision for three days.

In 1941 the draftees were to be those who were born in 1922, but the notices were received by those who were born in 1923, 1924 and 1925. Of course, we all strode to the military enlistment office. After that we walked along Krasnoarmeyskoye, Pechersk [district of Kiev] to the bridge across Dnieper, crossed the river and moved on. We had been walking for several days, covered about 70 km and reached Yagotin. Then for the first time I saw a crashed plane, and I was astounded. I used to think our planes MIG, bombers to be powerful planes, and there I saw that they were made of thin painted plywood with tarpaulin wings. [The plane MIG-3 was the most numerous fighter-plane in soviet air force. Due to frequent operation and considerably low applied altitudes MIG-3 did not have a sufficient combat efficiency and was of inferior quality as compared with the German planes. It was out of production at the beginning of 1942.]. Such a stump, wide plane was on the ground. There was no pilot on the plane. In Yagotin we were placed in freighter cars to go to miners’ town Slovyansk [550 km from Kiev], not very far from Donetsk. Then the entire crowd strode to military enlistment office. I weighed a little over 40 kilos, I was not plus-figured, but minus-figured, and most of my coevals were the same. They did not send us to the mine, even to the surface. They understood that we were not workers. Almost everybody was allotted to the collective [Kolkhoz] 39. We worked in good faith.

In September, 1941 we founded out that Kiev was occupied by German troops. We started a siege in Donetskiy, asking to be taken in the army as volunteers. The military enlistment offices were overwhelmed with work: hectic mobilization and evacuation. They scolded us and sent us away, but showed up again. In the end, our aim was achieved. At the age of 17 I joined the army as a volunteer. First I was sent to the reserves troops, but in 1941 I was sent to Moscow whereabouts. They fought for Moscow. I was there being a boy. There were four lads my age in our squadron. I made friends with two of them, Esikov and Khabarov. They were Siberian volunteers. One of them finished 8 grades, the other - 9. We belonged to 42nd army. We began from Mozhaisk and reached Istra. These were my first battles. We were armed with huge triple passage rifles, the ones used during World War I. We also had gun machines of the same epoch. There were few guns in 1941. The battles were fierce. But the frosts were the most gruesome for me. The winter of 1941-42 was severe and cold. First our uniform was not apt for such winter. Then we were given felt-boots and sheepskins, so we did not suffer from cold so much. Strange as it may be, provision, ammunition and armament were way better in the period as compared to Stalingrad 40 and Kursk Battle 41.

There are people who say they felt no fear in the battle. I do not know, all bread is not baked in one oven. But I do not believe those who say that they were not scared in the battle. Yes, I would not depict myself as a hero. I was very scared. During the air raids, especially during the first one, I had such a feeling that a bomb was going right after the crown of my head. I wanted to dig up and hide. Germans used additional gadgets for determent. They attached sirens to the bombs, which produced a terrifying howling sounds. Sometimes they threw empty barrels just to appall with a terrible whistle. We had the sense of fear, and it was very hard to get over it. Later on, of course, when I was a battle-seasoned old-stager, the fear was not so acute. At the beginning it was a feeling of consternation. Sobriety from my hurrah-patriotism was over very quickly. When your wounded friend cries from pain close by, you do not think with the slogans. I was in platoon troops. Of course, we had to attack. The head of our squadron raised us, buried in the snow, with the ’Get up!’, with swear words, brandished with his pistol behind our backs. And then, of course, hurrah! – and ahead. Though, we could not move forward very quickly, the snow of waist length was a good hinder, so we could not run. Besides out of Moscow, the Germans made good posts, so it was useless to ardently cry out hurrah and run forward. People close by fell wounded of dead. But we had to move on, and we went. There were times when they cried ’For the Motherland, for Stalin’, but most often they swore. My friend Khabarov fell in one of the battles. The battles were fierce. There were many casualties. But there were no so many burnt villages as I was to see later. On our way we came across safe villages. There we could spend the night in the warm place. At that time I got my first military award, the medal «For military merits» 42. I was wounded close to Istra during the air raid. During bombing the shell fragment pierced my shoulder-blade. I took it out somehow, but later it started to suppurate heavily and I was sent to the hospital. I stayed there for a month and then I was sent home, because I was not the age of the draftees.

I did not keep in touch with my parents, but I corresponded with the relatives, who told me that parents were evacuated in Voronezh oblast [Russsia]. I went there. It was very hard to get there -- on the freight platforms with the iron dust. I was stopped for couple of times. I had my passport by me, I even did not show my military documents, only passport for people to understand that I was not of the drafting age. I was rather appalled at that time knowing what war was, so I did not want to complicate things.

My parents survived by miracle. My father’ castigation of the soviet regime was about to kill him and mother. He did not believe any radio broadcasts about atrocity of the Germans, killings of Jews and civilians. He decided to stay in Kiev. Father remembered Germans from World War I. That is why he thought that they should wait for the Germans as they would not do harm. Only in August, 1941 when most Kievites [people from Kiev] had been evacuated and Grigoriy went to the army and I went to the front, my father was dawned. He said to mother if Germans had occupied Kiev, we would have appeared in one state, and mother and he in another state, and they would have never seen their sons again. And only for the reason to live with my brother and I in one country, they decided to evacuate. So, by miracle they escaped Babiy Yar 43. Meanwhile father’s sister Golder, a widow by that time, perished in Babiy Yar together with unmarried daughter and son.

My parents and I settled in a village not far from Voronezh, 650 km to the east from Kiev. I decided to finish the 10th grade, but did manage since I received the notice to appear in the military enlistment office in 1942. It was drafting of my age. I turned 18. The draftees were brought together on the collecting point, and from there were supposed to go Lipetsk [about 640 km from Kiev] mostly on foot, at times in carts. There was a training regiment in Lipetsk, where we were trained to march in a squadron before being dispatched to the front. We were inquired about our education. Since I finished 9 grades, it was decided to send to the military school. Again, I headed on the road - by trains, steam boat and car. We were brought to the military school in Balakhna [Russia, 1100 km from Kiev], a town about 50 km away from Nizhniy Novgorod. It was Simferopol gun and mortar military school, evacuated in Balakhna. My recollections about that military school are even more hideous than war. We had such a skimpy food, that we were running amuck from famine. We begged on the streets, trying not to be nabbed by the commanders. Once I went to the shanty to ask for food, where our commander was with his lover. He saw me and recognized me. I was lucky not to get into trouble. We found ingenuities to get some food. At school we were given a tiny bar of soap. We collected that soap. Then we took wooden bars, soaked them in water and coated in soap.

Then we sold so-called soap on the markets to buy food. We tried hard to survive from hunger. We were given the uniform made of thin felt. It was winter time, and we got very cold. Our boots were horrible and left blue paint on our legs and were not waterproof. Former junior commanders and employees of the schools teased us a lot. Junior commander Garbuz was the head of our squadron. He recognized a Jew in me, and it was another reason for his hatred towards me, the first reason was that I was “too educated”, he finished only two or three grades. He had never missed a chance to let me crawl over puddles: ”Rogovoy, belly-crawl!”. I had to fall and crawl in that puddle, and then he gave me extra duties because I marred my uniform. The easiest punishment was to clean frozen outhouse without a spade, just by using a board from the fence to have been removed beforehand. His mocking was boundless. But cattily to him, I learnt well. I did not write to my parents, I did not want to hurt them. They found me somehow and wrote to the head of the school. He called me and asked to write home, and then praised me. The studies lasted for 5 months, and then we got the rank of the junior lieutenant. It was the 3rd months when the horrible battle by Stalingrad started. The entire school, 450 people, was sent to Stalingrad. I had a dream that as soon as I got the rifle I would kill Garbuz before the Germans did. It dreamt of that seriously, because I could not forget his teasings. I think I was not the only one, who brooded on that. But no matter what all junior commanders were left in school, including Garbuz. The rest were dispatched to Stalingrad.

As compared to the majority of school leavers, I was an old-stager. I went through hell by Moscow, but it was not to be compared with Stalingrad. I had never felt more fear, terror and hatred to the Germans during entire war experience. The city was devastated, shells and mortar bombs were aimed at one and the same place, making a powder out of sand, which could be compared to that sold during my childhood in Kiev, finely fine brick powder for samovar cleaning. We went by Kalach and I saw the camp of our captured soldiers, frozen to death in dug-outs, with frozen blood, with wounds not being bandaged. I saw the tiers of frozen, coated in ice cadavers of the captured soldiers together with the wood for burning. I saw huge moats with corpses. Just imagine a moat as deep as 3-storied building, and not the house length, but the block length. In spite of the winter time we could feel cadavers smell.

Each regiment had the representatives of the special department SMERSH [SMERSH is the abbreviation of ‘Smert Shpionam’ ("Death to Spies" in Russian), special secret military unit for elimination of spies. SMERSH is actually the Ninth Division of the KGB, originally divided into five separate sections. The first section works inside the Red Army]. It was known that in 1941 Germans captured 2 or 3 millions people. If in the military unit there was somebody who appeared, from blockade or fugitive from captivity, SMERSH officers were supposed to check that person. It was natural, it could not have been otherwise at war. I do not know whether SMERSH people were performing NKVD functions referring to the militaries. I was a private, so those things were way beyond me. There might be SMERSH stooges among us, but it was very hard for me to believe that. There were a lot of casualties, the division was replenished each time. I cannot imagine anybody to be able to stay in one platoon for a long time. There was not a single week with fewer casualties, than up to 75% of the military personnel. Divisions were constantly replenished with new people. If the circumstances permitted, people were sent to reformation, if not the squadron moved forward. Often the replenishment was made for the sake of the wounded, let out from the hospital, and minutemen, e.g. people who did not reach drafting age, who were involved in work, and then later they became soldiers.

I remember one battle. We were brought together, the entire platoon of 45 people and were given 3 gun machines, each weighing 62 kilos, 32 out of them was the weight of the machine with rollers, and theoretically it could be rolled. But when we were crawling, it was impossible to roll the machine, we had to drag it. Barrel was another part of the gun-machine, and it had to be filled with water for cooling the gun. It was a famous gun-machine, the main weapon of World War I and the Great Patriotic War. The advantage was in its heavy weight that made it steady for precision fire. We were shown a semi-destroyed building, and were ordered to crawl there, set the gun-machines and not to let the Germans in the building. The latter could not even be called a house, because only walls remained from it. The house could be left without the order of the commander. At that time Stalin’s order № 227 as of 1942 was enforced ’No retreat’. And according to the latter the so-called defensive squadrons were formed, which were to follow regular troops, and start fire if there were any attempt to retreat. That is why there was no way we could leave that house. Almost all of us were lean and emaciated boys, weighing not more that 45 kilos. It was unbearably hard for us to carry the parts of a machine-gun, each of them weighting a little bit less than each of us. But we could not violate the order, especially if it was fortified by the defense squadrons. We were able to stay in that house either 5 or 6 days, I do not remember for sure. By that time 2 or 3 of our gun-machines had been crashed. 7 people remained alive out of 45. Then we ran out of cartridges for our gun-machine. Then we ran out food and water. Then the mortar bomb hit the house, and our last gun was destroyed.  The shell hit the gun jacket, where the water for cooling was filled, and we remain unarmed. We could not go back, there was no communication, and we could not get the order to retreat. What were we supposed to do?

At night German fire was feebler, so as in the day time it was very strong. We saw the hole in the floor, the passage to the basement and crawled in there. We decided that we would sit there for some time and find a solution what to do next. But in no less than 30 minutes another shell or mortar bomb hit, and we were dug. There was no light, the air penetrated through some crevices. We crawled in the basement like blind mice, trying to find a cleft or a passage, but our efforts were futile. I do not know how long we stayed in that basement. It was impossible to observe time there. I think one day passed, but I am not sure. We had a feeling of being buried alive. At times I cried out of despair. The guys were alive. We talked. We would have probably died there, but the miracle happened. They say, one shell never hits the same funnel twice. I know for sure that it is not true. A shell or a mortar bomb hit the basement again, and a big hole was made, that emanated light. We were saved. I thought a fragment from the shell pierced my buttock, but it was a trifle as compared to what might have happened to us. After that, 6 people out of 7 were given the order of Red Banner 44, but I somehow was given the medal ‘for Valor’ 45. Later I submitted a report to the commander, and justice prevailed. I was given two awards for the battle, i.e. medal “for Bravery” and the Order of Red Banner, the second high award after Lenin Order 46. Chuikov, commander in chief [Chuikov, Vasiliy Ivanovich (1900-1982) prominent military commander, conferred of many Soviet and foreign orders and medals], shook my hand. I was sent to the medical and sanitary battalion. I spend there more than two weeks. On February 2, 1943 I was discharged from the sanitary battalion and attended the meeting, devoted to the exemption of Stalingrad. Only 45 out of 450 people, sent to the front from our school were present at the meeting. I do not know who from the absentees was killed or who was wounded.

After this battle I was to be conferred the rank of a lieutenant. I was appointed the commander of the 112th platoon the regiment of the 37th Stalingrad Guards division 62, 8, and was dispatched to the command in Balashovo. By the way, later on that 8th Guards army was the main occupational army in Germany after the war was over. We stayed there for about two weeks. The regiment had a lot of casualties, and it had to replenish both with people and ammunition. They sent about 100 Uzbeks, who were mere boys. We teased them and jaunted as we thought they none of them wanted to speak Russian. We were furious that such words as ‘kotelok’ [‘pot’ in Russian], ’kasha’ [‘porridge’ in Russian], ’kasha malo’ [‘not enough porridge’ in Russian] they pronounced excellently and understood them very well. We were irritated that they were able to understand things, connected with food, and at the same time they refused to understand the simplest commands of the officers, addressed to them. We thought they were pretending, but they just did not know Russian. We were given arms for the squadron: 60 triple – passage rifles with a bayonet, “the miracle of 1891” [The so called Russian Mosin-Nagant Bayonet had a integral push-button/spring latching mechanism instead of a locking ring, and the tip of these bayonets can be used as a screw-driver. The Mosin-Nagant Model 1891 Bayonets - and variants - were used from 1891 into World War II, also by Austria and Finland.], 6 subguns, 2 guns, 3 heavy machine guns, 3 sniper rifles. All Uzbeks flung to take guns. But there were heavy discs for 75 cartridges in the set with the guns, and Uzbeks took the guns, throwing away the disks. We scolded them. It lead to their death in the first battle. None of them survived. They were used as cannon fodder, I cannot put in otherwise. When I recollect that I am cursing myself. Such a contagious feeling of nationalism: if a person is not like me, it means he is homely and inferior. That was the way we treated those boys. These were young guys, full of sap, all they were ”guilty in” that they did not know Russian, and were totally unprepared to what was ahead of them there. We were trained and battle-tried and teased them instead of helping them out and supporting them. What a shame, even now I feel ashamed!

The squadron was replenished and we went to Yelets by train. We stopped there and got off the train, since the railroads were crashed from German bombing. We walked for 300 kilometers or so. From the first days Germans were bombing so hard that we did not have a single field kitchen left. We had nothing to eat. First the sacks with the rye rusks were brought. Tarpaulin sacks for gas masks were attached to our belts. We removed the gasmasks and filled the sacks with the rusks. But these reserves did not last long. We were constantly hungry. We shot the crows and cooked them in fire. There were a lot of carcasses of huge German horses on the ground. We crawled to them, cut a piece and then boiled it. The carcasses were decomposing, producing a terrible stench. Nonetheless we ate that concoction. Sometimes we found potatoes and beets in the villages. It was a feast for us. I could not eat uncooked potatoes, others ate it raw. In Kursk oblast, that we went through, there were no safe villages. That oblast was divided, in some villages there were partisans, in others politsai [Russian for betrayers who joined the Nazi-run militia]. Politsai burnt partisan villages [villages controlled by partisans], and partisans in its turn burnt politsai villages [villages controlled by politsai]. It was difficult to find a place to spend a night. We were really lucky if we could find cellars, where vegetables were stored for winter. That was the place to stay overnight. We often slept straight on the snow. Filth and lice were absolutely unbearable. We could not even think of a bath. We were exhausted. We had to walk only at night as in the daytime there were bombings. The columns stretched, people lacked behind. Once I walked by half asleep and fell asleep. I woke up in the car of the commander of our division, the general. It turned out that I was hit by his car. I did not remember all that. The general asked me: ‘What‘s up with you, son?’ I could not remember anything, it all happened in my dream. The general took me to the place, where our squadron was located, and gave me a piece of pig’s fat and a loaf of bread. Of course I shared with my friends. But I found out in horror that I had lost my gun. Probably it happened when I was hit by car. If somebody lost his weapon, he was shot immediately in spite of the military merits. I was scared, I just had one thought –how to save my life. We walked in a column by burned hay storage. There was a fire in the center, and the soldiers were sitting around it. The weapon was placed along the wall. I crawled to the storage, saw the gun and stole it. I wanted to remain alive. And in a day, we walked by battle sites, where the weapons were piled …

We moved forward with the battles. These were the times of my hardest recollections. We came to one village, occupied by Germans and started squeezing them out of there. I saw a German running ahead of me, and I understood that I could chase him down. I was shooting and running, and because of my running I missed all the time. The German came to the destroyed house. I could see the basement. I approached him, when he was walking down to the basement. He might have wanted to hide there. I spent all cartridges left in my disk. The German fell down. His back was torn to pieces. When he was dying he turned to me, and I saw his face with a bristle. I think he was an elderly man of 40-45. Before that, I never shot from a close distance. I shot figures from remote distance without seeing the faces. And here I saw the face of a dying man, killed by me… and this face is in front of me even now… Is he an enemy? He is the same poor, emaciated soldier. Yes, I shot the German, and killed a man. It was the first time in my life. I was sick. Of course later on I had to kill Germans from close distance, too. But such an acute reaction never occurred to me again. I would never forget that first time. 

Beginning of 1943 was characterized by fierce battle. It was the period when Germans captured Orel and we had Kursk. At 6 a.m. on March 6, 1943 we called to attack. The snow was dazzling white. It melted a little bit in the day time and got frozen a little bit overnight, making a shiny ice coat. We did not have camouflage cloaks, and we stood out in the usual uniform and looked like flies on the white wall.  We crawled forward. Germans noticed us around 9 a.m. and started such a fire that there was no way we could cover. The bullet hit my gun, I bent and the splinter from my butt reached my face, and I still have that scar. The bullet hit my shoulder on the tangent. I did not feel pain, just a burring, like a burn from cigarette. The hand got numb and hung like a whip. I crawled back. The squadron commander cried out ’Where are you going?!’, I told him I was wounded, and he let me crawl back. Of course, I was moving very slowly, and the fire was so intensive that I had to be devious. Besides, I did not see where the shooting was coming from. Then the mortar bomb landed by me, and the fragment of the bomb pierced my left thigh. I was in felt pants, but they could not absorb blood. The hemorrhage was severe. I lost conscience from and acute pain.

When I came around, I began to crawl. I lost the boot and froze left foot. I could crawl propping on write leg and left hand. What was I to do?  … Finally, I crawled to the trench, where our gun soldiers were and besought: ’brothers, help me out of here!’ and they replied that they were not entitled to leave their positions. Then they took away the gun machine. Then, I think I was noticed by a sniper. It was getting dark, and I was on the woodland. He was aiming at me from the wood with the tracer bullets. I did not move. One bullet hit right in front of me, the second on the rear, and the third hit my leg. It was a percussion bullet, which hit my tibia, and exploded when it came out. I saw a huge torn hole in my felt pants. Later I found out that the bullet exploded and tore 10,5 cm of tibia. Spell bone was safe and served as a natural frame. My leg was saved for the sake of that, though it became crooked. I fell in the trench without any thoughts and stayed there for 24 hours or more. I could not put a bandage with my healthy hand, I could not even unbutton my cloak. I lost conscience, then I came around. And there in the trench being feeble, wounded, with forlorn hope, I believed in God, he was my only hope. I needed to pray. I was praying, lost the conscience and came around. I kept on praying. I told the God that I was young, and had not seen anything in life, and would have made my parents suffer, if I had died … My thoughts gadded, I was very scared and became even feebler. I remembered for all my life the gorgeous blue sky, with flashing lights from the tracing shells and bullets. I could not hear the explosion, it was all so far away, and over my head celestial flights were scintillating in the sky. My mouth got dry because I lost a lot of blood, so I ate snow from time to time. Then the hemorrhage stopped as I have a high coagulability.

Besides, I was arid and dehydrated. Certainly, I would have died there if there were not six people from our squadron who were on the way back on the same route. As it turned out, I unwittingly was crawling on the same route that we took when we were to attack. They were not able to take the village, but came back alive. They put down 4 long rifles. One of them took uniform jacket off and put over the rifles. They carried me to the village on those impromptu stretches. An old peasant lady came to the hut, where my stretches were placed, and asked me: ’Are you hungry, son?’ and gave me a slice of bread. I could not eat, and she gave me water. Then she went out, and came back right away. I do not know, where she was able to get milk. She brought me a mug of milk. I was taken to medical battalion. They bandaged me. There were no bandage materials. They used white moss instead of cotton wool, instead of frame - bars and sticks, bandages were laundered. The whole village was infected with typhus fever. Four wounded people and I were taken to the cottage, where the owner died from typhus before we came. We were put on the floor. The surviving members of the family were looking after us. The ordeal was more coming from the lice than from the wounds. They liked white and clean, and settled in the moss, which was used in the bandage. When I was trying to scratch, the splinters rubbed against each other, caused such an excruciating that I lost conscience. They did not bring food to us. The hosts had potatoes, but there was no salt. They fed us potatoes without salt. May be this is the reason why until now I eat oversalted food. I do not know how long we stayed there. Then I was to undergo the operation. I remember that the tools were boiled in samovar. The narcosis was not ether, but obsolete chloroform. When I was given narcosis, I felt as if I was sinking. Then I was told that I was swearing like a bargee. I do not know how it could be in my unconsciousness, because I did not swear. My leg was cut and cleaned.

Then we were taken to the same hut, and then they must have forgotten about us. We stayed there for 12 more days, and nobody changed the bandages. I do not know what was happening with my wound. Meanwhile my neighbor died. I woke up at night. Because, he fell dead on me. His leg was amputated, and it might be improperly bandaged. He died from hemorrhage. In 12 days they remembered about us, put us in the truck and took us somewhere. Then the bombing started, and the driver sped up so that we were jolting and crying from pain. The driver stopped the car, and the accompanying registered nurse gave each of an injection of morphine. It was the greatest bliss I ever felt in my life. My leg was cast hither and thither, but I felt no pain. I was only a little bit sleepy. We were brought to Kursk and put in the hospital. But my suffering was not over. I had a fever, and the wound had not healed up. I could not eat anything and was totally emaciated. The nanny, that was looking after me sympathized with me. She bought me a lemon with her own money. I cannot perceive where she could possible buy it. I was moved to tears. Again, I was convinced that the God was helping me. Hospital personnel were thinking that I would not survive, and I was placed separately from other wounded, in the pigeonhole. There was a show window covered with boards. During the bombing it fell down on my bed. Of course, it would crush me, but I landed on the iron back-rests of the bed. One of those rests crashed, but another was not harmed and stopped the show window. Again, I remained alive. I was taken out from Kursk. They moved me from one hospital to another. I was operated on, and cured… I was in Moscow, Vladimir and Kaluga hospitals. In the last hospital, Izhevsk, I stayed the longest. I traveled for over 1500 km being wounded, moving from one hospital to another. In Izhevsk I was commissioned and sent home. I was awarded the Order of the Great Patriotic War 47 second degree for the battles on Kursk Curve. I got Order of the Red Star 48 for the last battle.

I felt unbearable, horrifying hatred to the Germans after everything I was put through at war. How could have felt different, after the scenes of trenches filled up by frozen corpses to be burned, Kalach camp of militaries captives, with no survivors, villages burnt to ashes, piles of cadavers of the hung civilians … Frankly speaking I had to force myself not to shoot the captured German to take it to the headquarters. Such hatred remained with me for a rather long time after war. I calmed down only after 1965. Before, I could not stand hearing German language, I could not stand seeing Germans.

I came to Semipalatinsk [Kazakhstan, about 3000 km from Kiev], where my parents moved from Voronezh oblast in 1942. When I was on my way, the wound was open, and I had to go to the hospital in Semipalatinsk. My parents were very indigent in the evacuation. They sold everything they had, even the wedding rings, which were sacred to them. All - clothes, linen was sold and exchanged for bread.

After I was discharged from hospital I began to work at school as a military training teacher. I finished 9 grades before war, but I could not be studying and sponging on my parents. I asked my colleagues for assistance. They helped me out to get the certificate for 10 grades. The time I spent in hospital influenced by choice of the future profession. I was firm – if I were to survive, I would become a doctor. In August 1944 I went to Kiev to enter the Kiev Medical Institute. I sent the documents in Kiev beforehand. My parents still stayed in Semipalatinsk. When I was looking through the list of the those who were enrolled on the first course, I did not see my name. I went to the admission board. They told me that I was not admitted for the reason of health, because I would not be able to become a doctor with my crippled hand. I was infuriated. Then I asked whether my crippled arm would be good to beg on the street. So, I was admitted. 

After the War

All those years I got excellent marks. Of course it was difficult. I had been walking on crutches for all those years. Often my wound was open, and the splinters were coming out, causing acute pain. Of course I was young, and I wanted to appear a hussar in front of girls, and leave the crutches. I made a stick with a handle myself, so I could prop on it with both hands. I had used by the fifth year. At that time, I was able to walk, not only without a crutch, but even without a stick. There were 850 ladies and 40 men in my graduation year. Those guys were mostly handicapped like me. Those who were healthy then in 1944, were at war. There were armless and legless people among us. I entered psychoneurotic department. I had studied there for years. Then it was closed down, and I became a therapist. There was no other way out. 

Our pre-war apartment was occupied by other people. Probably I could fight for my rights and file in court, but I was too weak for that. I stayed with my father’s sister Feiga for some time, who came back to Kiev from evacuation. Then I was given a room in the hostel of the medical institute. The handicapped in war were given the whole floor. During the last courses we were given the cards for dinner. But it was later. At the beginning, we just used to starve. I being unsettled, feeling hunger and cold by all means decided to graduate from school. So, I kept on learning hanging on by skin of teeth. I was good student, remaining the monitor of the group through all students’ years. The clothes that I had was ill-kemp- my military uniform from war. I wore military jacket, received at war in 1941. I never took off my jacket, even during the classes, because my army pants were torn on the back side, and on the knee area. I was not ambidextrous at that time, so with my left hand I sawed patches made from my green tunic on my black pants. I did not have any other clothes. My parents were in evacuation. In Kiev there was only my aunt Feiga, who would rarely cook something for me. My scholarship was enough to buy the beans, the cheapest product at that time and a little bit of fat. The bread given by cards [Card system] 49 was not sufficient, 300 or 400 grams. I never could take it to the hostel from the store, I ate it on my way. I could not die. Sometimes the ration included herring and sugar, so I stood by the store and tried to exchange them for bread. In 1946 my parents came back to Kiev from evacuation. They did not have a place to stay. First they found a poky apartment for rent, and then bought it from the landlords. It was a tiny room, without conveniences, with no water and toilet. They had a hard life. They were indigent. But still I would come to see them and take the pot luck with them, no matter how skimpy it was. My brother came from the front twice and made great feasts for me. First he came in 1945, brought me new uniform - English boots, uniform and pants. When I saw a hen on the table, I burst into tears. Tears were streaming from my eyes, and I am not a susceptible and a mawkish boy. I practically did not have any other food, but bread. And I was not willing to eat anything else but bread. Then as a doctor I found out that a hungry person craved for bread more than for meat because of lightly digested carbohydrates. And during my student’s years I would have survived without faith. Of course I did not divulge it, but in God was always in my soul.

My brother took part in defense of Kiev during the first war months. During retreat he was in blockade, being imminent with capture. If that happened, he would not survive. They were in blockade in August, 1941 and broke through in September. In period of September-December he was in Ukraine with a group of people, hiding in the woods, bogs and haystacks. In winter they swam across unfrozen Don and found the location of our troops. Grigoriy was afflicted by an acute joint rheumatism and was about to die. After that he was transferred to noncombatant troops. Brother was a wonderful singer. There were times when he with the front-field band was giving concerts for the soldiers. In the course of time Grigoriy managed to return to combatant troops. As during peace times he was in construction, he appeared in armored engineering troops. He was a color sergeant. Grigoriy was in the infantry of the 62nd army on the front-line of Voronezh. He took part in Stalingrad battles. To my surprise I learnt from Grigoriy, that we were both in the same army, the 62nd. We were close by, but never met, and did not know about each other. After Stalingrad brother fought by Rostov on the Southern front, on Caucasus, during setting Kiev free. He was in Poland and fought for Poland with our troops. He freed Budapest and Berlin, took part in the fights for Prague. At that time he was the deputy commandant of the Czechoslovakian city Brno, which was a pretty high position. Taking into account his education, brother was recurrently offered to stay in the army as a professional military. My brother objected to that, because he had two children and wanted to come back to them. Nevertheless, Grigoriy was demobilized only in December 1946. He started his service in the army on June 21, 1941 on the eve of war and finished it a year and a half after war. He got very many awards. After he came back to Kiev, he started working and studying in engineering and construction institute. He became a construction engineer after graduation. He worked in many design constructions organizations such as: «Меzhkolkhozstroy», «Kievgorstroy» etc. What really appealed to him was participation in restoration of Kiev, devastated by war. He was a gifted engineer, had a lot of reasonable propositions on manufacture of construction materials, in particular brick. He was generating good ideas. He was a great expert. He was very valued at work. He was often given bonuses.

I remember pre-war time very well, when anti- Semitism did not take place. I was shocked when I found out that our neighbors being friendly with Jewish families, shamelessly disposed them Germans or Polizei [‘police’ in German], hired from local people. I remember our anti-war life very well, and there was no place for anti-Semitism. Anti-Semitism was mostly likely buried at the back of their minds, and with the right circumstances flourished well. My cousin Boris, son of my father’s elder brother, was drafted in the army in 1941 before war. After our troops left Kiev, Boris appeared in blockade by Borispol. He was lucky to break through blockade, and he came home. He was recognized by the janitor, and she disposed him to the Germans. Boris was nabbed and hung on the gate of his own house as an edification for others. After war the janitor was put to trial and sentenced to 10 years in jail. She did not come back to Kiev.

The younger sister Khasya, who married Grouzer, had two children: daughter Liya and son Naum. They both were brilliant at school. They loved theatre, went info sport-swimming, skating and skiing. Liya took an active part in the social program of school. Naum was the secretary of Komsomol organization at school. After finishing school Liya entered Kiev chemical technological institute. She finished fist year in June 1941. In 1942 she went to the army. She appeared in air defense regiment, which only consisted of girls. The regiment was based to the North from Stalingrad. Germans were trying to exterminate all air-defense batteries. In September 1942 Liya perished by Stalingrad, in the village of Orlovka. None of the girls in her regiment survived in the battle with the German tanks.  They were buried in the communal grave in the village of Gorodische. Liya’s younger brother, Naum left school in 1941. With the outbreak of war mother and he evacuated to the Central Asia. In 1942 he was drafted in the army. At the end of 1942 he was reported missing after Stalingrad battles. There are Liya’s and Naum’s pictures on the tomb of their father on the cemetery in Kiev.

Father’s second sister Berta, who was married to the retired soldier, had only daughter Zilya. Berta’s husband was much older that she and died a long before war. Zilya got married and gave birth to two daughters. Her family name was Konstantinovskaya. Zilya’s husband died in the first days of war. She never got married again.

Grigoriy, elder son of my father’s sister Feiga, also perished together with my father’s sister Golda and her children. Grigoriy caught meningitis during childhood and remained mentally retarded and sick. He stayed in Kiev and was shot by Germans in Babiy Yar.

Babiy Yar is still a pain to me. Over 60 years have passed, but I still cannot think calmly about that event. I envisage those people being lead along familiar streets, and the probably knew that they were walking for the last time. A bleeding wound in my heart is the way they were beaten up and shot. I understand that Babiy Yar did not come out of nothing. Why most of concentration camps were in Poland? Why almost all Polizei were Poles, Ukrainians or people from Baltic countries?, Because this was the right territory and right people. Here Jews were mostly hated. Here were most people who were willing to tease and kill them. This is my subjective opinion.

My friends went to war, too. My classmate and friend Jacob Koffman, who shared one desk with me at school, in July 1941went to the army as a volunteer. He took the surname of our common friend, Lidov, whom I mentioned before, not to die in case he became a captive. Jacob defended Kiev, participated in Kursk battles. He was given the rank of a sergeant and was awarded with the Order of the Great Patriotic War fist degree and with the medal «For military merits». In October 1943 Jacob was heavily wounded and after staying in the hospital he was dispatched from the army for being handicapped. When he came back to Kiev, he graduated from the geological vocational school and worked for construction companies. We still keep in touch. My friend, Mikhail Shukhman, two years older than me, was drafted in the army in 1941. He was awarded with two Orders of the Great Patriotic War on February 23, 1943. His right hand was torn during explosion of the shell. After his return home, he graduated from the motion-pictures engineers’ institute. He had been working at Kiev furniture factory as a power engineer. Mikhail died in 1978. Jan Bardakh also was drafted in the army in 1941. He was sent to military school and graduated with the rank of lieutenant. He was awarded with the Order of Red Star and medals. In 1943 he was severely wounded in the knee. After staying in the hospital, he was demobilized. Jan’s right leg became shortened because of the wound, which had not healed up. After his return in Kiev, he graduated from the institute. He had worked as an engineer for many years. He died in 1979.

In 1948 «cosmopolite processes» [Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’] 50 started. It was the time when anti-Semitisim was not concealed, and even flourished. There talks that Jews did not go to war and stayed the whole time in Tashkent [Tashkent is a town in Middle Asia, where many people evacuated during the Great Patriotic War, including many Jewish families. Many people had an idea that all Jewish population was in evacuation rather than at the front]. I have never heard anything like that from people, who were at war. But those who were evacuated, where not shy to speak about it. Cosmopolite processes, where Jewish names were being constantly mentioned, streamlined anti-Seminism.

In 1948 another prominent event happened – the state of Israel was founded [May 15, 1948]. 2 thousand years ago the Jews were expelled from their land and scattered all over the world. I think foundation of Israel to be a miracle, witnessed by me. The independent state of Jews, created by us is our pride and happiness. 

In 1948 another important event took place, important for our family though. My maternal grandfather Sheftel died in Zhitomir. My parents went to the funeral in Zhitomir. I had to stay as I could not leave classes. Grandfather was buried at the Zhitomir Jewish cemetery according to the Jewish rites.

I did not join communist party 51, as I was not the eligible for age. I became the candidate to the party in 1949, the year I graduated from medical institute. I joined the party in 1951. I have not done it because I was stickler of the party’s ideas. Everybody knew that the person who was not the member of the party, did not have any prospects, and could not even dream of career. I wanted to become a doctor and achieve something in my profession. That is why I joined the party. Though, at the back of my mind at that time I was prone to believe that internationalism was the major principle of the party. Of course, when cosmopolite processes were in full swing, I was aware of my mistake. But there was no way back. I became Komsomol member with the ardent belief, and I could leave the organization because of age, when I was offered to join the party. It would be the real fling of the gauntlet and demonstration of one’s «unreliability ». And if you were a Jew to boot. … I understood that I had to go with the tide. I was not a dissident. Even if I were, I would not be strong enough for fight. I had to get over my disability.

In 1949 I graduated from medical institute. I was allotted to work as a therapist in Podol. My district was: Zhdanov street [today Sagaydachnogo street] and adjacent streets to the right: Andreyevskiy street, Pokrovskiy lane. Those who lived or visited Kiev know that those streets are on the steep upland. It would be hard even for a healthy person to go up those streets without gasping for air and stopping for a respite. In winter when the earth is covered with ice, such an ascension would almost like a mounting climbing. It was difficult for me walk, the leg did not heal up. I propped on a stick, having a constant pain. Nonetheless I had worked on that district for 25 years and 3 months, before 1975. 

When in January 1953 «doctors’ case» [Doctors’ Plot] 50 commenced, I had worked in the polyclinics for almost 4 years by then. My patients treated me very well and trusted me. There were few male doctors in the polyclinic, and I was appointed the head of the district being a veteran and the member of the party.   But as soon as there appeared the article about the doctors poisoners, I was immediately called to the head of the polyclinics and dissolved from my position. I never was a go-getter for administrative positions, and it did not perturb me. What really perturbed me was that many patients all of a sudden changed their attitude to me. An old communist Voronkov lived on my district. He joined the party in the 1920s and enjoyed talking about it. Once he attended me with complaints of windiness. I advised him to be on diet, but he wanted me to prescribe medicine for him. I prescribed a very simple medication—absorbent carbon and he left. In some time I went to the first floor and saw the door wide open. I went by and saw Voronkov in the office of the head of the polyclinic brandishing with my prescription and saying: ’Have a look, what that zhyd prescribed me, may be is on the point to poison me?’ I will never forget that.

Of course, such attitude was not only towards me, it was also towards my colleagues-Jews, and it was not coming only from patients. I remember a terrible article about a wonderful gynecologist Kresson. I knew him very well. In the articled he was accused of murdering fetuses in the mother’s womb. It was a horrible accusation. And what really happened? In any book on obstetrics, the section covering pathological delivery reads: in case the fetus improperly develops or in case of untimely determined pathologies of the mother, hindering normal parturition and Caesarian section, mother’s life is chosen, if it were to choose between the mother’s life and the fetus’s. In this case decollation is made. Of course, it is barbaric, but at times doctors have to use the decollator to decollate the fetus and then remove the body. Such a live-saving operation was performed by doctor Kresson. He was charged with infanticide and put in jail, only after 20th [Twentieth Party Congress] 53 he was released from prison, being ill, preliminarily enfeebled and spavined. Then I remember how cardiologist, the professor, was accused of doing harm, because contacts to be attached to the patient’s body came off cardiographer machine. I, a beginning doctor, was observing all that. I also saw the way Jewish doctors were treated. A young doctor Dmitrienko worked with us. Every time another dirty article appeared in the paper she discussed it with everybody and exclaimed: ’Have a look what they are doing!’. Then in several years those doctors were exonerated after Stalin’s death. She was astounded and used to ask: ‘What am I to believe in?!’ It means that it was easy for her to believe that such outstanding experts in medicine, the writers of students’ manuals as Kogan-Yasnyi, Vovsi, Vinogradov and others were murderers. But she could not abide by the written facts that those formerly called murderers had been totally innocent. What can I say? Let bygones be bygones. I got it over. But God had not just saved my life, he also let me keep my memories. After the case with the doctors I started being very cautious with people, and not always trusted good words spoken about me. But I take pride that those people who I had grounds to consider anti-Semitists, thought me to be a good doctor, and trusted me their health.

Stalin died on March 5, 1953. I cannot say that his death was unexpected. When there were reports on Stalin’s state in the bulletins, I, being a doctor, was aware that he was on the brink of death and I was ready for that. I cannot say I was grieving over Stalin’s death. Of course, I did not demonstrate it to many of those, who were bursting into tears. My father made me buy and wear a red mourning crape with black bands. Such bands were worn on sleeves, and it was a sort of a proof of loyalty. My friend Peter Hitelman told me that when everybody was whimpering, an elderly Jew Khalemskiy, the doctor in our polyclinic said: ’Why are crying, idiots?! You’ve got to be laughing and rejoicing, it will be better to live now!’. He was right. People got over the mourning rather soon, after 20th party convention. As for me, 20th convention and Khrushchev’s 54 speech were more shocking than Stalin’s death. First Khrushchev’s report on the offences was not disposed to public, it was read only at secretive party convention. Then it was revealed. I was deeply impressed by Khrushchev’s speech. When certain NKVD leader became peoples’ enemy, they used to mention his abuse of power. Only from Khrushchev we heard about Stalin’s role in criminal repressions of the year of 1937. Of course, I believed everything Khrushchev said. I recognize that Stalin was an extraordinary man. He was not merely a despot, he was an exceptionally intelligent and guileful leader.

In 1946 I met Elena Cherevo, my future wife. Elena studied at medical university. She was born in Kharkov in 1925. She was evacuated with her family during war, and they moved to the freed Kiev. In 1951 we both started practicing medicine, and then got married. Elena was not a Jew, and my parents were against our marriage. What could they have done… I was a grown-up, a battle-seasoned awarded old-stager, a doctor. I did not accept any objections. Moreover being at war right out of school, going through hospitals, hard years of studies gave me no experience with women. Elena was my first woman, and of course it was a pivot. After getting married we lived with Elena’s parents for a while. Unfortunately we could not make a family. We did not get along, having quibbles since the first day of our life together. Our only daughter Irina was born 1952. I loved my daughter very much. I tried to spend with her a lot of time. She was reciprocal. Being a veteran of war, I got a two-room apartment in Kiev on the left bank, Darnitsa. But it did not help, we had no mutual understanding. By the way, Elena’s parents were also against our marriage. Only later I understood that they were inveterate anti-Semitists. My father-in-law used to say: ’Go to your zhyds’ meaning my parents. Our divorce was spurred by arrests of the well-known numismatists in 1969. I knew many of them. They were imprisoned for any precarious accusations. It was difficult to overcome that time. I was interrogated, but was not accused. Those imprisoned under pressure had to give away their collections, and then they were released as there was no corpus delicti. During such arrests Elena filed for divorce in court. It was not mandatory, I would never object to giving money for my daughter. Nevertheless, we were divorced. The daughter stayed with her mother.

I left them apartment and came to live with my mother. She stayed by herself as my father died in 1962. We buried him at Jewish lot of the city cemetery, where grandfather tomb was moved after Lukianovskoye cemetery was liquidated. Father was buried according to the Jewish rite. His grave is next to my grandfather’s, where the name of my father is written. I keep both of my father’s prayer books as precious things. My father’s picture and the calendar leaf dating his death - March 28, 1962 - are glued to in his prayer book. This is a keepsake of a wonderful man, my father.  

It was difficult to get registered [Residence permit] 55 in my mother’s apartment, as it was considered that I had a place to live, and there was no room for another person in her apartment. But I was a rather known doctor, so I was given a hand. I was registered in my mother’s poky communal apartment 56 without toilet and running water. I started to look into making out lodging better. In three years I was given a two-room apartment, no matter how hard it was. At the meeting of the district executive committee 57, when my issue was under table, there were people who asserted that my divorce was fictitious for the sake of getting apartment. How could I leave the apartment, without hearing in court on division of the apartment. It was the first time my mother lived with conveniences. Unfortunately, she had lived only for 2,5 years in the new apartment, and passed away in 1976. My mother was buried at the Jewish lot of the city cemetery. It was important for her to be at the Jewish lot. I reserved a burial place for me close to my mother.

I always remembered about God, who rescued me at war when I was dying. My faith did not weaken. I was getting more ascertained of God’s assistance in hard times of my life. Here is another example. In 1955 I had a severe jaundice. I was on the brink of death, my liver was below umbilicus. I was puking not only from food, but with the thought of food. I had a strong biliary intoxication with toxic psychosis. I was in such a terrible state, that even my loving father did not believe in my survival after the ambulance had taken me to the hospital. That case was probably more severe than the one when I, being wounded at war was beseeching God to help. I started praying. I was still young, only 30. And again I asked God for help and care. God rescued me again, like in the first time. It was a miracle. Being a doctor I understand it even better. It was another proof that God loved me. He might be saving me for certain purpose that I do not know of. My miraculous survival strengthened my believe. I did not mark Jewish holidays, did not attended synagogue, worked in Sabbath and ate everything, but I always felt in my soul that there was God. Of course, you could ask how I could have been a member of the party and a believer? These two things seem to be incompatible, but not for me. I was the member of the party, only in my card. There has always been God in my soul.

Being divorced I was not going to get married soon. There were quite a few ladies, who wanted to marry me. After first bad experience I was certain that my wife would be only a Jew. I did not want to make another mistake. I was lucky to meet Sofia, my wife-to-be. She was born in Kiev in 1934. Her father Naum Shekhtman was born in the village of Gornostayevka [420 km from Kiev], Kherson provice in 1908. He was a great mahogany joiner. There was time when his apprentices were problem children. Mama, Feiga Shekhtman (née Zlobinskaya) was born in 1910. She became a housewife after getting married. Sofia has two sisters: the older, Bella Matskina (née Shekhtman) born in 1929, and the younger, Zhanna Shekhtman born in 1945. Russian is Sofia’s mother tongue, but she also understood Yiddish, as her parents communicated in Yiddish. In 1941 Sofia’s father was drafted in the army. As a lieutenant he fought for Kiev, took part in the battles on the South-Western and 2nd Ukrainian fronts. He became disabled because of a severely wounded leg.  He was awarded with Orders of Red Star and of Great Patriotic War and many medals. The family was evacuated to the Uzbek town Andizhan. In 1944 Sofia’s father was charged from hospital and called his family in the liberated Kiev. Sofia’s father started to work at a glass plant. Mother was a housewife. Sofia’s elder sister Bella studied in Kiev University, at Philosophy department. After graduation she was sent [Mandatory job assignment in the USSR] 58 to Dneprodzershinsk to teach history. She married a Jew, Jacob Matskin and gave birth to daughter Alla in 1960. Sofia’s younger sister Zhanna finished drama school and was the head of drama studio in cultural center. She married a Jew, Aron Elkin. In 1970 she gave birth to elder son Konstantin.  In 1979 another son, Alexander, was born. Now both of my wife’s sisters live in Israel with their families. Sofia entered Kiev dentists’ institute. At the beginning of 1950s her father was arrested, and Sofia was expelled from the institute as cosmopolite’s daughter. Sofia left Kiev for a town of Rovno [Ukraine, 370 km from Kiev] entered Rovno Geological Technical School there and obtained secondary technical education. After graduation she was assigned to Chita [Buryatia, 5700 km from Kitv], in Zabaikal expedition. She had stayed there for two years. She got married in Chita. Her family name was Burmanova in her first marriage. Sofia and her husband moved to Kharkov from Chita. In 1952 she gave birth to an only daughter Irina. After Sofia moved to Kharkov, there were conflicts with her husband. She wanted to go on with higher education, but her husband wanted her to be a housewife and raise their daughter. But Sofia was very stubborn and straightforward. She studied extramurally in Kiev Geological gas exploration University. She became a geologist, expert in gas exploration. She divorced with her husband. She was offered a job in Kiev Geophysics Institute, and she moved to Kiev with her daughter. We met in Kiev, in some of our friend’s house. We got married on November 4, 1978. We have been together for 26 years, and I've never questioned my choice. 

No matter that my daughter lived separately, I always kept in touch. We were and are getting along. I never wanted to change my name for Russian, so Irina accordingly has a Jewish patronymic Hertzevna. That is why when my daughter finished school with a silver medal [the second highest distinction in USSR secondary schools. A student was supposed to have straight excellent marks (100%) to get the golden and 90% of excellent marks to get silver medal], tried to enter Kiev university, she was not accepted. [Entrance interview] 59 And next year she failed to pass entry exams. At her third attempt she was accepted to the evening physics department. She worked in the day time, and after work she attended classes. Irina got married after graduating from the University. She kept her maiden name, Rogovaya, after getting married. Both of her sons took the father’s name Khokhlov. Yuri was born in 1980, and Igor in 1984. Irina worked as an engineer in X-ray diagnostics. She is retired now. Radiographers retire at the age of 45 as their job is harmful to health. Both of my grandchildren study. Yuri got the Master’s degree in Kiev polytechnic university, and works there as an assistant. The younger, Igor, is studying in Kiev polytechnic institute. My daughter and her children are very dear people to me.

In 1970s there was an outburst of mass immigration of the Jews in Israel. It was happy news. I craved for immigrating to Israel, but my mother would not allow. There was no way my brother would leave, and even spite of that my mother would not let me go as she thought she would never see me again. We should never have thought that there would be times when one could go to Israel for a visit, invite your kin and friends. [Keep in touch with relatives abroad] 60 At that time people left for ever, and it was good if they wrote. I could not leave my mother. And my second wife flatly refused to leave. Israel still remained a dream. Of course, it might sound preposterous that I am an ardent patriot of Israel sitting here in Kiev. And now I am even doing Israel a favor that I am not importuning myself as a pensioner to be given dole. By the way, when in the ‘70s Jews started a massive immigration, anti-Semitists all of a sudden understood that practically all good doctors were Jews. And they started complaining: which doctor to go to, there would be no one we could trust our health …

In 1975 I left polyclinic. I found out that there was a vacancy of a therapist in the sanatorium of Ministry of Defense in the Kiev suburbs, Puscha-Voditsa. I went there and I was offered a job. I had worked there for 23 years and retired at the beginning 1998. They treated me in a great way during my working years. I was a civilian, but still I was given vouchers for treatment in the best spas of USSR. I was always selected in the honorable presidium at general meetings. I am not vain, it was just a demonstration of the positive attitude. They still keep a show-case devoted to my battle experience. I exerted every effort and used my knowledge to the benefit in my job, in treatment of patients, and I am given credit for it. Many retired militaries still remember me and render to my assistance. I have forgotten many of them, but they still remember me.

I went off war as a lieutenant. But since doctors are liable for militarily service no matter what they are specialized in, my rank periodically changed. The last rank was obtained this year – lieutenant colonel of the medical service.

It turned so that three granddaughters of my wife were brought up by us mostly. Irina, Sofia’s daughter lived in Kharkov. Her married life was not happy, so we took three of her daughters. They went to the kindergarten, to school. I liked tendering them. I treated them as my own grandchildren, and they treated my accordingly. Elder granddaughter Yulia, born in 1978 left for Israel when she was 16. At that time there was an educational program in Israel. She worked as a waitress in Israel and took a preparatory course by Haifa university. Then she entered Haifa university and married a military man. Yulia graduated from the university and is working as a programmer at a very prestigious company. My wife is a greatgrandmother: Yulia gave birth to a boy, and she is pregnant again. She is expecting a daughter. My wife and I are looking forward to seeing her. The second granddaughter Svetlana, born in 1983, followed Yulia. She is also studying in Haifa university and is going to become a programmer. She was supposed to be drafted, but she recently got married, so she was given an adjournment. And the youngest, my favorite Anastasia, born in 1991, has just recently left for Israel. Irina married for the second time and left for Israel with her husband and a younger daughter. Anastasia goes to school. My wife often goes to Israel to see them. Both of my nieces, Grigoriy’s daughters live in Israel, in the town of Karmiel. They are prosperous, that this makes me happy. My brother died in Kiev in 1978, long before they left. There are my relatives in the United States, too, viz. both sons of my mother’s younger sister Manya. The elder, Yuri, lives in New-York, the younger - in Chicago. Both of them are younger than me, but they are not youths. We keep in touch, write and call each other from time to time. 

The fall of Communism

When at the end of the 1980s perestroika 61 started in the USSR, I was delighted. We, USSR citizens, were not used to the absence of censorship in the press and literature. We were not accustomed to open honest public sources. I was happy with those events. It was marvelous that there was no iron curtain 62, severing our country from the rest of the world for many years. All it was new and delightful. But my euphoria did not last long, and my attitude to perestroika became negative. The consequences from perestroika brought to the breakup of USSR [1991], and I still regret it. Yes, I am still yearning for the Soviet Union like many of my contemporaries. Yes, it was a terrible empire, but it was a forceful foundation. And what is it now? We could easily go anywhere on the territory of the USSR, and now with a course of time it is getting more and more difficult to visit any of CIS countries. Of course, each type of society has its own disadvantages. I do not compare the independent Ukraine with such a monster as FSU used to be. I have few grounds why independent Ukraine should exist. How did the world benefit by from breakup of the USSR? There was one monster- Soviet Union, and now there are 15 instead of 1. We could forecast before, and now if the steps of one state could be forecasted, the other state would remain totally unpredictable. I would have never believed that the USSR will be deleted from the worlds map. The country that went through such a calamity as a patriotic war and was on the brink of defeat … Frankly speaking, there were moments when I did not believe that we would win that war. How could I believe when I retreated from Stalingrad, interminable retreat, starting from the Western boarders of Ukraine, when Germans reached Volga and we had way many casualties and remained stern? After that there was a huge socialistic empire, including the countries, which did not belong to the USSR: Romania, Bulgaria, Poland, Czechoslovakia, half of Germany. And suddenly such a country broke up. It was hard to believe in it.

What I like in the present Ukraine is that the Jewish life revived. Though, I understand that the current and coming leaders are not giving such a freedom out unselfishly. They just understand very well, that they depend on American and other capital, and they would not get anything if they demonstrate anti-Semitism. Various articles in the papers and speeches of the deputies at the Supreme Council speak for the existence of anti-Semitism. I even like those more who speak publicly on anti-Semitism, than the rest who just conceal their thoughts and remain anti-Semitists. I am positive in that. This is the time, when we, the Jews are needed. That is why I do not believe in the ardent love for Jews, demonstrated by our government. I am not the only one, who thinks that. The figures speak for me. At the beginning of the 1990s there were 400 000 Jews in Ukraine, and according to the latest census (in 2003) only 100 000 remained. There were 100 000 Jews in Kiev, and now there are only 17 000.

When Ukraine was declared independent, a lot of Jewish communities appeared. There is a cultural center, which I like, and Hesed 63, performing great useful work. I do not trust other societies because I do not understand what they are dealing with. Why there are at loggerheads with each other, and what are they trying to divide. I am a member of the Kiev organization of Jew-veterans of war (Kievskoy Organizaciya Yevreyev – Veteranov Vojni) 64. I deal with medicine. I attend sick people in the hospital, officially receive war veterans. I have my reception hours. I am «a call-doctor» - veterans call me at any time when they require a medical consultation. There are getting less and less people in our organization. I was confounded at the last meeting. If earlier I used to come to the meetings beforehand, so I could occupy a seat as the hall was crammed, at that time there were only 35 people or so. People are getting older, die, but the organizations grow. I am very grateful to Hesed, and to those people, who give money to support its work. I know about Hesed not by hearsay. I have been working here since my retirement. I am taking patients in Hesed medical office every day. My conscience is clear, I am a volunteer and work for free. I consider, that my work, and the work of Hesed on the whole are needed. I see those who come here. These are indigent and miserable lonely people, who cannot make a living with their pension. One can judge it by the clothes they wear, and how during free dinner they eat potatoes in the canteen and put fish cutlet in a bag and take it home. They even take slices of bread home. They are not just given dinner, they also receive provision and clothes, medical care, medicine. We have day hospital, I also work there. There one can be examined and treated. Another important thing is that Hesed provides the opportunity for those lonely old people to communicate with each other. People suffer from loneliness more than from diseases and poverty.

My wife is also working. On Aug 5, 2004 she turned 70, but they do not let her retire. Though she does not have any scientific degrees, she was conferred the most prestigious award in geology- Silver Geological Cross given by the state. Apart from Sofia 2 or 3 people were conferred this award in the institute. She is a great expert, and now they talk her into teaching students, so she can share her experience with them. It is hard for her to work full-time. She is working half –time.

Recently in the honor of the Victory Day 65 and for my volunteer work Hesed gave me a wonderful present - paid for my trip to Israel. I have dreamt of it for so many years, and now my dream came true - I saw this beautiful country. I admired everything I saw. I stayed with my younger niece in Karmiel. Besides, I saw many cities and historical places in Israel. All I could physically visit, considering my weakness, and pain in my leg. I attended museums. I was in Yad-Vashem 66. But I was most deeply impressed by Wailing Wall. I still cannot forget that. I am not very susceptible and superstitious, but when I was by that wall, I thought that the air there was unusual and dense. It seemed to me that the wall emanated special blessing. For two thousand years people have been praying by it for the temple to be restored and the state of Israel to be revived, so it imbibed their prayers and hope. I was happy to see that the cities in Israel were clean and well taken care of - an apple-pie order. The most important was that I saw Israeli felt them home. Veterans have a serene and worthy life. They deserve it. It was painful for me to compare the life of the veterans in Israel with Ukraine.  

I still remain religious. Though, there are only two holidays that I mark - Pesach and Yom Kippur. I certainly go to synagogue during those holidays. I attend the synagogue my father went to, the one located at Shchekavitskaya street. Unfortunately I do not know Hebrew, but I have a contemporary prayer book with Russian translation. I have not always fasted for the Yom Kippur, but for the last 35 years I keep a tradition not to eat or drink during Yom Kippur. This year I fasted, too, even though I turned 80, and then I took my economy car, given to me as a handicapped during Great Patriotic War, and went to the synagogue. Though, I understand that I should not drive. I cannot stay there for the whole day, so I go there by 4 and stay by the end of the praying. Then I go home for the feast. This is the day of our family get-together. My grandchildren come. My daughter, though half-blood, always attends synagogue with me. My wife is aloof to that. She went there with me for two or three times. My daughter supports me and goes there with me. She knows how important it is for me. This is our tradition, along with the 9th of May, the victory day’s tradition. The whole family gets together to go to the monument of the military honor. This tradition will be kept on, until I am alive.

I think my life has not been futile. I have witnessed three important events, which never happened before in the world. I, having read about a man landed on the moon in science fiction books, witnessed that it happened in real life, not in the novels. The second - foundation of the state of Israel. The third, the epochal, was the breakup of the USSR. Those three evens are not interconnected, but they were unique in the world. I am happy to observe those events trying to be useful to people the best way I could. 

Glossary

Albert Arditi
Istanbul
Turkey
Interviewer:  Feride Petilon
Date of Interview: May 2005

I am honored to have met with Albert Arditi, an architect who spent most of his life in the Kadikoy district. I had the chance to get together with a man who is always so witty as to say “Not you again?” when he sees me, so honest as to wholeheartedly convey to me his religious and political perspectives, and so knowledgeable and honest as to narrate to me what his life has been all about. Albert Arditi has a true passion for nature, and as such, owns a house with a great view of the sea. What he loves most is to have a cup of coffee in front of that view, sitting across the seat from his wife. His wife is a woman who deeply cares for Jewish traditions. She always offers me some of the wonderful delights she cooks for Shabbat [Sabbath]. It seemed to me that every corner of Mr. Arditi’s house was filled with pictures of his children and grandchildren. In addition, many of their friends’ gifts were placed in their cupboard. Mr. Arditi is very proud of talking about his life because its pages are clean. On each encounter of ours, he tells me a different story, and then gives me his perspectives on that story. Sharing these with you is truly a pleasure for me... The Nina-Albert Arditi couple and I have become very close over time. “We still have so much to tell you; come back and see us again sometime.” they say to me when it is time for me to leave – “You enliven our life.”

Family background

Growing Up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

Family Background

My paternal grandfather’s name was Avram Arditi. I do not know his date of birth, but I believe he must have been born around the 1800s in Balat [it is a county in Istanbul situated around the Golden Horn shore. This county had a significant Jewish population, and as such, many synagogues. In time, most of the Jews there ended up moving to the area around the Galata Tower] because he died around the 1900s. I do not have any information on his educational and military background or what he did for a living. All I know is that he was an only child.

My father’s mother, Viktorya Arditi [birth date unknown] was also born in Balat. She passed away in 1908. She went to a district school [this term does not represent an Alliance school in the district, but it rather stands for a school where children living in the district went to]. She was a house-wife, and she unfortunately passed away at a very young age.

Back then, the causes of death were not investigated much. The general belief among people was that some bug bites caused diseases such as measles, which was deadly. The use of antibiotics in response to infections was not common. As such, many would say “tuvo una kayntura i se muryo” [Ladino for “he/she caught a fever and died”]. Sometimes, death would be attributed to epidemic diseases such as tuberculosis, typhoid and cholera. In the end though, even the closest relatives of a deceased person would not always know why he/she had died.

My father became an orphan at a very young age…

My mother’s father, Aron Saranga, was born in Edirne [a city in the Thrace region], in Gumulcine [a village near Edirne]. The family moved to Edirne after the Bulgarians had captured Gumulcine during the Balkan Wars. Aron Saranga’s sister, “La Tia Sihula” [Ladino for “aunt Sihula”] remained in Gumulcine because of her husband. She died there… [Back then, the Balkan Peninsula and Thrace were part of the Ottoman Empire. After the Balkan Wars, Edirne became part of Turkish soil, and Gumulcine became part of Greece’s. As a result, the family was dispersed into the soils of two different countries] 1 2

I met La Tia Sihula only once in my life. I was young, but I was very impressed. I was around 6 or 7, and she was 60 years old. She had come over to our house to visit. I remember her playing the lute, and singing to us songs of Rumelia. She had a very nice voice. I specifically remember this song “Alisimin Gozleri Kari.” She had said “kari,” using the Rumelia tongue, but she had meant to say “kara,” which means black. She had black hair. She was an unforgettable woman… [‘Tia’ stands for ‘aunt’ in Ladino. It can also be used to denote the elder female persons in a family. ‘Onkli’ carries the same meaning for the males (uncle), and is used to denote the respected, elderly men in a family]

Aron Saranga subsequently moved from Edirne to Istanbul. He moved to Ortakoy [a district on the European coast of the Bosphorus]. He started out as a livestock dealer [someone who buys and sells livestock]. After he ran into some financial difficulties, he began earning his living as a butcher. He was a tense and irritable man, but he was also a very honest man, who always stood by his word. He apparently had an argument once with the chief rabbi at the time (I do not remember the rabbi’s name). Since kosher meat was taxed at very high rates, and was therefore very difficult for the poor to afford, they were forced to eat regular, non-kosher meat. The Jews who deeply cared for the tradition, and wanted to eat kosher meat, had a difficult time in doing so. Hoping to make a difference, Aron Saranga had a heated argument with the chief rabbi. Many, including some members of his family, thought he disrespected the chief rabbi by bringing this issue up. His argument did not yield any positive results.

Mr. Saranga had four siblings. His brother, Dr. Ruben Saranga had attended the military academy, and was a respected man in Edirne. His sister, La Tia Dudu was married to El Tio Isak Eskenazi, and they lived in Ortakoy. El Tio Isak was an insurance underwriter as part of the Sark Insurance Company, and a volunteer rabbi at the Yenimahalle County within Ortakoy. He did not receive any financial remuneration for his work as a rabbi. The couple had lost a daughter at a very young age. The cause of death in this instance was also unknown. It is possible that it was because of an epidemic disease. Their daughter was around 16-17 years of age, and was engaged to a doctor. Her sudden death shook her entire family. She was the couple’s only child. She apparently was a very beautiful girl. I remember that we mourned for days; everyone sat on the floor… [old tradition of mourning during the 7 days following the burial of a parent, or first degree relative].

As for his other siblings, there was an Ester Saranga, who was married to a Behar. His other sister, La Tia Sihula, lived in Gumulcine. I do not know who she married.

Dr. Saranga and his wife’s marriage account is very interesting. Dr. Saranga had studied at the military academy. During the war, he was appointed major, and was stationed at Necef [a village in Anatolia]. There were not many educated people at Necef at the time. This allowed him to become both the village’s governor and notary public. Because of this military appointment, he had to leave his 17-year old fiancée, Ester Saranga, back in Edirne. At that time, La Tia Dudu was already married to El Tio Isak. Dr. Saranga asked El Tio Isak to come to Necef, and asked him to do something for him. He gave Isak power of attorney, requested him to take the letter of attorney back to Edirne, and complete all the necessary steps so that Dr. Saranga could officially be married to the woman he loved. Isak did as he was told, and completed all requirements so that Dr. Saranga and Ester could be declared husband and wife. He took Ester back to Necef, and delivered her to Dr. Saranga. He even had to sign a document stating that he delivered Ester to Necef – safe and sound, and took the document back to Edirne with him for the chief rabbi’s confirmation. After the War, Ester and Ruben Saranga moved back to Edirne. They then had two children named Sonya and Leon.

Aron Saranga died at a young age. He had a livestock trading business. My maternal grandmother had become a widower when my mother was only 12. He might have died because of a heart attack; he was a tense, edgy man. He spoke Judeo-Espanyol. He was not too religious, but he did practice Shabbat [Shabbat]. He passed away in 1916.

My maternal grandmother’s name was Suzan Sultana Saranga. I do not know her maiden name. She was born in Kurucesme [a district in Istanbul, near the Bosphorus], and lived in Ortakoy. She knew the Rashi alphabet (Back then, this language was taught by rabbis) 3. She knew tatting. She was a brunette, and she always preferred darker clothing because she was in mourning. My grandmother was a calm woman; she did not raise her voice too much. She was a calm person. She did not directly manage the housework or cooking in the house, but she had overall supervision.

Whenever I think about my grandmother’s house, I cannot help but remember the days I was sick… I was in seventh grade, and my parents and I were invited to a wedding. On our way there, I became feverish and my temperature became unmanageable, so my parents took me to my grandmother’s house in Ortakoy. It was a two-storey, wooden building. They prepared a bed for me on the ground floor so I could rest. I was confined to bed there for a long time because of typhoid. I had a very high temperature.

My grandmother’s house was one that had constant running water, electricity and a coal furnace. She did not have attendants, cooks or maids, who helped her with housework. There was a laundry woman though, and she was Jewish.

I was sick during my entire stay there, so I do not have very detailed memories about my grandmother’s house. Despite this, I do remember that Jewish holidays were celebrated as family meetings. My grandmother had wonderful relations with her neighbors. Both Muslim and Jewish neighbors there got along perfectly well. When I was sick, I remember that they all came by to check on my health, and brought food. There was a doctor named Dr. Aser. He was the most famous doctor in the Ortakoy area. In reality, he was a gynecologist, but it seemed that he could heal all kinds of diseases – no matter what the patient was suffering from [Ortakoy is a district in Istanbul, situated along the Bosphorus. It is an area in which all three religions intersect. The Etz Ha Hayim Synagogue, Ortaköy Mosque and the Ortakoy Church are all within the same area. The proximity of these places of worship for different religions also manifests itself in districts such as Balat, Kuzguncuk, etc… As a result, the solidarity among the Jews, Muslims and Christians is quite strong].

My father’s name was Nesim Bensiyon Arditi. He became an orphan at a very young age. It is interesting; back then, his mother’s other children got sick after birth and passed away, or she miscarried. No one really knew why this happened. In those years, no one sought to investigate the cause. When my father was born, they named him Nesim (‘Nes’ in Hebrew), which stands for ‘miracle.’

A tradition that follows a similar situation was called Marko Merkada. Whenever a child recovered from a very serious illness, he was symbolically sold to another family. In this way, the child became ‘sold’ or ‘merkada.’ It was thought that this symbolic process would change the child’s destiny. Yet another tradition was name altering (called ‘mesallayim’ in old Hebrew). According to this tradition, if a person survived an epidemic disease that would normally result in death, that person’s name was changed in the hopes that his destiny also would. The person was usually given a new name from the Torah.

Nesim Arditi was born in Balat in 1898. He lived in Ortakoy for a while, and then he moved to the Kadikoy area. He studied at an Alliance School 4. Since he was an orphan, his aunts took care of him, and supported his educational and other needs. He did not want to be too much of a burden to them, so he joined the military by misrepresenting his age.

He served in the military for a long time. First, he actively took part in an operation to free the Suez Canal from English occupation. This was in 1915. Sometimes by walking barefoot in the cold and sometimes using the rail, his platoon arrived at the Syrian border. Passing Jerusalem, the men arrived at the Suez Canal. Cemal Pasa was the commander of the Turkish army. My father was a corporal at the time. The Turkish military lost the fight, and was forced to surrender. This was a very difficult time for all the men as living conditions were very poor, and the lack of proper clothing and adequate food only made the situation harder. The Arabs had rebelled against the Ottoman Empire.

While the army was going to Sivas [a city in Anatolia] though Aleppo, my father froze from the dead-cold in Kangal [a town near Sivas. The name was later given to a breed of dog]. His corporal just left him there to die. One of the villagers pitied him and said to my father “Look, you are at a deadlock and you have only one option to survive. We will bury you in a pile of fertilizer. Otherwise, your legs will become gangrenous and you will die. With the fertilizer method, the freezing will slowly disappear, but there is a risk. Your veins can burst. The choice is yours.” Deciding that each option was as dangerous and deadly as the other one, my father had no choice but to accept the villager’s offer. His legs healed in time, and he went on the road again. This time, he caught measles, and then typhoid. When he finally arrived in Istanbul, he was very tired and beaten.

When the war was over in 1922, his military unit dissolved. Later on, during the 1940s, he was called on to serve in the 20 military classes. 5 In this respect, I can say that my father took active duty in both World Wars.

My father was a respected man. He was not very talkative. He always dressed in suits, and Bossalino hats [an Italian trademark hat company]. Whenever he traveled abroad, he always brought back these hats as presents for his friends and relatives. My dad owned a store called the Kooperatif. Before he become the owner, he had worked there as a regular employee for a long time. The store was in Moda; a modern county back then on the Asian side of Istanbul in which many residents spoke both English and French. My father was considered one of the good, successful workers there because he spoke French [this store was one of the oldest within the Kadikoy area. It was located across from the Armenian Church, and was founded in 1892 by a number of Englishmen. Its ownership was transferred later on]. The store was owned by Englishmen prior to 1924. It provided customers with a variety of products ranging from everyday needs to souvenirs. In 1924, a number of new laws were established by Ataturk 6 in order to protect domestic investment, and so it was no longer possible for the English to own the store. They summoned my father, told him he was an honest man and asked him to take over the ownership in return for a small pay-out fee. They also told him not to damage the reputation of their brand and their store. My father accepted these terms, and took over the ownership of the store with a number of Greek-Turk associates.

Back then, Moda County was home to a number of elite Levantine and English families. 7 As such, the stores had to provide luxury goods. The goods sold in this area were of the highest quality. When Inonu 8 became the President of the Turkish Republic, for example, he once visited his sister in Moda, and had the opportunity to taste some cheese from our store. He liked it so much that he wanted to find out where he could find more of this cheese. From that point on, kilos of cheese began to be transported to Cankaya [the name of the presidential palace where Presidents of the Turkish Republic reside throughout their term] by rail. Being the son of the store’s owner, my father began giving me the responsibility - since I was 16 - of managing all food preparation for the parties we attended.

My mother Fortune Saranga was a serious and trustworthy woman. She managed our home affairs, and was our family’s permanent counsel. She was the first person whose advice everyone in the family requested. Not only did she observe events with an objective perspective, but she also had the ability to reconcile people’s differences with her compromising tone. She could always get others to do what she wanted, and she was the one who got the family together.

During holiday celebrations, we had many visitors in our house. My mother was a very elegant woman; she went grocery shopping in elegant shoes and clothing. She had her clothes tailor-made. These tailors generally happened to be non-Muslims. My mother had her hair cut when she was a teenager, but after a certain age, I never remember her with short hair. She would always wear her hair in a bun.

She had a beautiful collection of jewelry. Back then, Russian merchants sold Russian-style jewelry, and my father bought these for my mother. She later on gave her jewelry to my sister as a gift.

My mother went grocery shopping every morning, because my father ate lunch at home. Lunch was considered the most important meal in our family. My mother had a very good eye for meat and poultry because of her father; who had owned a butcher shop. I remember going to the butcher’s with my mother once to buy some meat. The butcher placed a piece of meat on the counter, but immediately rescinded after seeing the look on my mother’s face.

My mother was a helper, but she did this confidentially. I remember going to a government office once after she died. One of the ladies who worked there asked me if I knew my mother. I responded “Of course, I do.” But, she said “Not only you, but people like us who received so much support from her know your mother too, and we will always remember her.” I never found out what kind of support my mother had provided to this lady.

Although she had a tranquil-natured personality, my mother was still a ‘Saranga.’ Like every Saranga, she occasionally flared up in anger. But, she never yelled at her children. In any case, my sister, Viki, was the mascot or the princess of our house.

My mother usually directed her anger at my father because he did not always take the best care of his health. The religious holidays were also a problematic subject between them. Since my mother was the elder of her family, she usually invited everyone else over. However, she would drive herself to exhaustion during the first night of the Holidays because she did not have support staff that helped her with grocery shopping or cooking. We would always tell her that we did not want this much food and in this variety, and that all we wanted was to see her at the dinner table on the first night of the celebrations. She would not understand though. Holidays meant food, and that equaled my mother being sick – and, of course, crowded dinner tables. Her tapadas were the best [this is a dish from Edirne, its cooking instructions are provided at the end].

My mother had five siblings. Yuda Leon Saranga immigrated to the United States in 1912, when he was 14. He started working in a factory there. He later became a trade-union chief, and married his wife Suzan. They had a son named Aron. In 1953, Yuda Leon Saranga and his family came back to Istanbul by ship. His wife was originally from Canakkale. [the Dardanelles] On the night the ship passed through the Bosphorus, they did not sleep all night long because they were so excited to see the city of their ancestors even if it was from a distance.

When my grandmother Sultana Suzan Saranga saw her son after all this time, she raised her hands towards the sky and cried “Atyo Santo” [Ladino exclamation for “my dear God”]. It must have been extremely unnerving and exciting for her to see her son at 40 years of age because he was only 14 when he left the country.

The ship they traveled on was an Italian vessel. Yuda did not eat much at the beginning of the journey because he thought there might be pork in the food served on the ship. Later on, he became very close to the entire crew, and had them cook him a nice, hearty dish of pasta. When the journey ended, he and the chief police officer left the ship arm in arm.

My mother’s sister, Sara Saranga, later changed her last name to ‘Kohen.’ She gave birth to two children named Besim and Erol. Both of them are living in Israel today. For the longest time, they operated a toy business. Erol’s wife’s name is Teri Adut, and Besim’s is Zizi.

Her other brother, Salamon Saranga married Simbul Mizrahi, and they lived in Balat for a long time. They never had children. Beki Saranga married Izak Argun. They had two children named Rozi and Albert. Rozi is living in Israel today, and Albert is in Istanbul. 

How my parents first met could be considered romantic. My father had a walking stick; it was fashionable to use one then. Kooperatif had a franchise store on the European coast of Istanbul, where my father worked for a while. He used to take the tram to get to and from work, and would frequently see my mother in the tram. One day, soon after my mother got off the tram, he dropped his walking stick right in front of her, and that is how they first met.

In those years, the general convention in the society stipulated that dating was a serious matter, and others expected relationships to result in marriage after a short dating period. My mother’s father had already passed away. My father, also a kid at the time, had lost both of his parents. La Tia Dudu (Aron Saranga’s sister), who was taking care of my father at the time, was knowledgeable in matters of love and marriage. She asked him “Are you going to marry her?” “Yes, I will” my father replied. Not long after that, my parents got married at the Ortakoy Synagogue. Ortakoy was a very small district, where everyone knew each other, and so it was relatively easier to arrange for these things.

Fortune and Nesim Arditi preferred to live on the Asian coast. I, Albert Arditi, was born in Kadikoy, Yeldegirmeni in 1923 [Kadikoy is a district on the European coast. Yeldegirmeni is a county, whose gardens are full of ivy roses. The area also overlooks the Haydarpasa Bay, and contains many of the old windmills. As such, it is affected both by northeast and southwest winds].

The Kehribarci, Valpreda and Menase apartments built in Yeldegirmeni were generally occupied by Jewish residents. Overall though, I can say that there were an equal number of Turks and Jews living in Yeldegirmeni. There were not a lot of Armenians and Greeks. The pharmacist, tinsmith, fisherman and the glazier were Jewish. There were two butchers in the area that provided kosher meat. These were Bensal and Niyego butcheries. The pharmacies in Yeldegirmeni were also different. One could easily find ready-to-go medicines over the counters within the pharmacies, but made-to-order medicines were sold more frequently. Pharmacology, of course, was an important element of pharmacies, but so was psychology.

In summer time, children played in the streets, and women knitted and embroidered crochets.

Growing Up

When I was born, the street we lived on was called Piyasa Street. Later, when the famous Turkish writer Recaizade Ekrem passed away, the street was renamed after him. In Yeldegirmeni, there was a ‘Kucuk Paris’ (Small Paris) neighborhood, which was parallel to the railway that began at the ‘Ibrahimaga’ neighborhood. The fire of 1922 that erupted in Haydarpasa destroyed more than 400 homes. As a result, about 1000 families became homeless overnight. No synagogues or schools got caught in the fire, but the Jewish families did get their share of this disaster. By the 1980s, there were not a lot of Jewish families left in Yeldegirmeni.

When I think about our house in my younger days, I remember a wooden, three-story house – just like the house I live in today. In those years, my father had just bought the Kooperatif store, and so, most of the money he made provided for paying his debt. Therefore, we did not live in luxury – even though we had everything.

The houses in Yeldegirmeni at the time were similar to the townhouses today (there were no gardens or a family space in between houses). Because of this, my friends and I spent time in the streets, playing. Our toys and games were not luxurious, but we did have a lot of fun. We played marble games and leapfrog [The marble games consisted of the arranging of the marbles next to each other. The player tries to hit all the marbles with the one marble he has in hand, and the person who is able to hit the most marbles, wins the game and takes the marbles he won with him. So, when other children return home, they ask their parents for money so they can buy new marbles for next day’s game. These marbles had different names according to their shapes and colors. The models that had uncommon shapes and colors were in more demand, so they were more expensive. The children even exchanged their marbles] [Leapfrog is a game in which children try to jump over each other when the other person is slightly bended]. We did not have bicycles. The streets had paving stones. We were happy.

In 1926, my brother Henri Arditi was born. By disposition, Henri was a lot funnier than I was – full of jokes. He was a happy child and everyone loved him. When he finished middle school, he went to Palestina [today’s Israel before the republic was founded]. He began living in a kibbutz there, but I do not remember its name. He had good relations with everyone there. Unfortunately, he got injured there and stayed at the hospital for a while. Apparently, while playing with a donkey, the donkey hit Henri hard over his heart. Later on, he returned to Turkey and did not go back to Israel for a long time. When he returned, he immediately began working with our father. He married Lizet Haver. They had two children together, Bensiyon and Eli.

Henri passed away in Istanbul in 1987. Lizet remarried, but her second husband also passed away shortly afterwards. She was very different in character compared to my wife. For my wife, her home, husband and children are very important. If need be, she would not eat but ensure that we did – in the truest sense of the word. She had different perspectives on life in comparison to Lizet’s. They never really became close friends. But, family is family, so we try to see each other during the holidays because we believe that there should not be resentment among family members. For me, Henri had always been a lot more compromising and understanding. He always put helping family members first. He would wake up in the middle of the night, and prepare food for his babies. In the years that he worked for the Kooperatif, everyone was fond of him. Back then, Kooperatif was the shopping address for the elite families of Istanbul because it sold a lot of luxury items.

Bensiyon (Henri’s son) got married in the United States to a lady named Suzan. They had three children together. They later got divorced because of irreconcilable differences. When they got divorced though, Suzan was pregnant with their third child. Bensiyon later got married to a Christian lady. Eli, Henri’s other son, got married to a lady named Luna. They had three children named Aron, Esli and Alison.

Henri Arditi was a graduate of middle school, so he continued the family business at the Kooperatif store.

In 1932, my sister Viktorya was born. Viki (short for Viktorya) went to the St. Benoit Lycee [a high school in Istanbul founded and supported by the French]. Viki was considered the princess of our family. She was under the constant protection of my mother, and no one could touch her or say anything negative about her. Viki got married to one of Henri’s friends, Isak Levi. Isak Levi was also a well-liked, respected man in his community. Even though he joined our family later on as a ‘groom,’ his opinions and perspectives were considered to be important in our family. Viki and Isak immigrated to Israel in 1942. When Viki left for Israel, she took my mother’s sewing machine with her as a souvenir. The couple had two children named Lea and Hayim. Lea ended up getting married to Rafi Azuz, a man from Bursa [a city in the Marmara Region, Turkey].

Before I continue with the biography, I would like to share with you my views on the common names of my time. There have always been popular names such as Viktorya, Albert, Ojeni, etc… Whenever a name becomes popular, it is fashionable to give children these names in every family. This is because these popular names go all the way back to King Albert and his wife Viktorya as well as Queen Ojeni, the wife of the Napoleon III, and their visits to the Turkish soil. Queen Ojeni, for example, visited the Ottoman Empire during the reign of Sultan Aziz. By giving these names to their children, families believed that the children might acquire noble characteristics.

During my childhood years, Yeldegirmeni was a neighborhood that housed about twenty thousand Jews. When I think about these years, one of the first memories that come to my mind is that my mother went grocery shopping everyday. Every Friday, Leon the fishermen would stop by and tell my mom “This goby is just the right one for you,” referring to the fish he was holding in his hand. Once, the goby was so fresh that it actually jumped out of Leon’s hands! [Eating fish Friday evenings is an important tradition among the Jewish families of Turkey. Goby is generally the most consumed. It is cooked with plums; a recipe can be found at the end].

Going to the Turkish baths in our neighborhood was something else… I first went to one of these baths with all the women. It was one of those classic Turkish baths… It had a marble basin and a heated marble platform. The attendants in the baths would wash the women. The most important tradition about these baths was that they provided a place for single women to be displayed for possible arranged marriages. Whenever a single woman was ready for marriage, before her family began looking at potential grooms, she would be taken to these baths. In this way, others would be able to observe the woman in a very detailed manner in order to see whether she had any physical deformities. And of course, everyone in the baths would enjoy various delights of food (dolma, meatballs, quiches (borekitas) etc… while this ‘display’ was underway.

I remember always having support staff around the house. We refer to them as ‘femme de menage’ [French for “cleaning lady”] today. In those days, we viewed them as an integral part of our house. They would help my mother in cooking, cleaning and laundry. I specifically remember one of them, Nivart, whose husband had gone to fight the war. She had no place to stay, so my mother took her in. She ended up staying at our house until the war ended. We called her ‘tantika’ [Ladino for “aunt”]. After her husband came back, she still continued to come around the house to help my mother. She was scared that her husband would irresponsibly spend the money she made, so she would give all her earnings to my mother. My mother would watch over her money until she needed it. Her children got into good schools later on, and made something of themselves. Tantika occasionally came to visit us.

I cannot say there was a lot of anti-Semitism in our neighborhood. We all grew up together, like brothers and sisters, regardless of religion. In some cases, children from outside our neighborhood would come to ours to pick a fight – mostly with the Jewish children - but they would generally return disappointed. According to them, we were this neighborhood’s Jews. In this respect, we were part of our neighborhood, and we could not be touched by others. If kids from other neighborhoods ever made a pass to our girlfriends, we would strike back, hard. I think there was a stronger sense of solidarity among everyone back then. For example, the village headman for Yeldegirmeni was a Jew named Haribi Nesim. My point is that back then even Jews could govern neighborhoods, towns, etc…

I went to a school named Ecole Communale [this was an Alliance School. The school board and the Jewish community of Haydarpasa considered it an important responsibility to ensure that the school did as well as it possibly could, and so they put considerable time and funding into it. The Haydarpasa Community Student Teacher Regulations are provided at the end]. We considered Mme. Matalon and Mlle. Duba some of our most important teachers.

One of the most important memories in a man’s life is his bar-mitzvah. My father was not a religious man, but he knew both the Jewish religion and its traditions well, and added to them his own perspectives. We did not study the Torah in its entirety either, but we did read some of its prayers. My becoming a man at age 13 - my bar-mitzvah - was celebrated in a fairly traditional manner. People did not engage in exaggerations, or elegance races back then like we do in bar-mitzvah celebrations today. The only thing that did not change about the celebrations today is the bar-mitzvah speeches.

My father had taken me to the synagogue, and requested the help of our respected rabbis so that I could gain some religious insight into the process. The rabbi who tutored me told me that he would be the one to prepare my speech, but that I would address it to all my guests during the big night. At that point, my rebellious character came onto the scene. I told him “I want to be the one to prepare my own speech.” I figured “if the rabbi prepares the speech, then he should be the one to give it on the night of my bar-mitzvah because they will consist of his own thoughts. I can only promise to do what I can do.”  My parents did not let me. On top of this, one of my father’s friends gave him some very elegant piece of English made fabric so that I could use it for my suit. My father asked me to thank him, but I refused. I told him “You thank him. This present does no good for me, it was given to you.” My mother prepared a wonderful selection of recipes for the day of the ceremony (tefilim). She used the best products from the Kooperatif. My father got drunk, and as always, the entire family had a chance to get together.

I wanted to attend the St. Jozef Lycee [French Catholic school] after elementary school. In other words, my parents wanted me to attend St. Jozef because the brother of one his Greek business partners was a bishop at the school, and so could provide us with a significant discount in school tuition. The catch was that I had to take an exam and pass with a successful grade. I began taking private lessons from Mr. Kohen. For some reason, I was not successful in my efforts to convince my parents that my Math and French were sufficient. After a couple of tutoring sessions, I took the responsibility upon myself, and discontinued the lessons. I was quite successful in the exam. Based on my marks, I was given the opportunity to directly begin the sixth grade – without going through the preparatory year for middle school. When I got to the eighth grade, the school board wanted me to restart the seventh grade because they feared a government inspection during which officials could discover I was too young to be in eighth grade. They were not successful in their efforts though.

When I think about my time at St. Jozef, one of the first things that comes to my mind is the passing away of Ataturk. Everyone knew that he was very sick. I remember staring at the flags in the school with everyone. If one of the flags was ever hauled down, we would know that he had passed. The time came. We were all in the school yard. Our principal announced “Ataturk has passed away.” Everyone began staring at each other. I remember our English teacher asking us to all go back to our classrooms. He said “Please take out your books and notebooks, and continue to study. This is what Ataturk would have wanted from you.” I remember going to the Dolmabahce Palace. The Palace was extremely crowded. People were crying, moaning and staring with a bank expression on their faces. Our house had a view of the sea; I remember watching the people carrying Ataturk’s coffin. They carried the coffin by sea, and passed through Izmit on their way to Ankara. Ships from several different nationalities followed the one which was carrying his coffin. On the landside, people were walking in the streets in the hopes of glancing at the great man’s coffin one last time.

During the War

I graduated from St. Jozef with the highest honors (Prix d’honneur). In the 1940s, the government required Math teachers to attend the military, so our French teacher began to teach us Math. He was given two books. One contained the questions, and the other, called ‘livre de maitre,’ contained the answers to those questions. He would ask us a question, and give us a grade by comparing the student’s answer to the answer key. I remember what happened when it was my turn to answer a question. I solved the problem, and found the correct answer, but my solution did not follow what was in the answer key. Our teacher first did not know what to do, but he ended up giving me the full points for the question.

I also have fond memories about my Literature classes. We studied Divan Literature [there is an important movement within the Turkish Literature called the Divan Literature. The Sultan and other respected, elite persons in the Ottoman Empire placed significant importance on this type of literature, which was influenced by Arabic and Farsi. It is written using constant lines of poetry and form]. At the same time, I started learning Hebrew. When I received an extremely good grade from one of our Divan Literature exams (the language of the Divan Literature and Hebrew were very similar), my teacher was surprised. He summoned me to his office, and asked “How come even the best students in your class did not receive a grade close to what you received? How did you do this?” I told him that I was also learning Hebrew, and he was convinced. He gave me the highest grade that had ever been awarded to a student till that point.

When I was a senior in high school, World War II erupted. It was from that point on that I started observing signs of anti-Semitism…

Back then, every senior had to take a ‘graduation exam’ [this exam was one that every student had to pass right after graduation from the high school. It was not administered by the school, but rather by the government. Even if a student graduated successfully from his/her high school, it was not possible to be considered a high school graduate without passing this exam]. This exam covered subjects such as Turkish, Mathematics, Science and Philosophy. I liked all of those subjects.

My Philosophy teacher had graduated from Sorbonne University. I remember that I was taking a Philosophy exam once; all of my friends had cheated from me. Realizing this, my Philosophy teacher had failed me…

Anyway, back to the exam… Every student also had to take what was called the university exams after graduation in order to be able to attend a university. Students who failed this exam had to enlist in the military. I wanted to attend ITU [Istanbul Technical University- it is the best engineering school in the country].  ITU accepted its students after only one test, but only the elite or really successful students, who came first, second or third in their class, generally made the cut. Because of the graduation exam, I forgot about ITU and began studying for this test. I received 8 out of 10, and finally graduated from high school.

As for the ITU exam, I was not sufficiently prepared, but I did take the test anyway. During the exam, I began to doze off. A person, whom I found out later to be a professor, told me “Do what you can, we will see what happens after the test.” What he told me made me realize the seriousness of the situation. I began answering the questions with all my power. The result was not too positive. I could not get into ITU, so I began attending another technical university that was recently founded.

One day, I read in the newspaper that ITU was currently accepting students that were previously waitlisted. And, my name was on that list. My mother wanted me to become a doctor because there were many doctors in our family, but I knew I wanted to be an engineer. Mathematics came easily to me… I was very happy while studying engineering, and I have always liked what I did for a living.
  
I had the opportunity to form wonderful friendships at ITU. Suleyman Demirel 9 and Necmettin Erbakan 10 were both my classmates there. An important feature of the educational program in those years was that our faculty contained both Architecture and Civil Engineering students. Today, both fields are distinct, but back then, we had the opportunity to graduate with two different degrees, as stated on our diplomas.

Students attending universities also had to take a mandatory course pertaining to the military. The Architecture and Civil Engineering faculty took this class together with the faculties of Literature and Fine Arts in an amphitheatre. An army officer taught this class. When I was a sophomore in college, the officer in question began teaching us the Wealth Tax. 11 What I remember was that he was not teaching the subject in an objective manner, but he rather added his own subjective views. He would say “The Wealth Tax had to be implemented to save us from the non-Muslims. They nearly robbed us of all our businesses. Now we will have a chance to see what they can do without any capital.” When they heard this, all of my classmates began looking at me – wondering if and how I would respond. I remember smiling back at them in extreme sorrow because my family had personally been affected by the taxes as well. But, I believe that if there is one thing a person should not lose - no matter what - that is his honor and dignity.

After the Wealth Tax had been implemented, my father’s capital drained. My family went through very tough times. But, amongst all of those tough times, we were still able to find hope. The tradesmen, from whom my father bought wholesale goods for his store, came to the rescue, and embraced my family. They told my father “Whatever you see in our stores is yours. Take whatever you want, and you can pay us back whenever you can. This is what we have to do for you.” They encouraged my father tremendously. It was as if life had restarted for us…

I, on the other hand, decided to drop out of college. I had lost all my hope. I was thinking to myself that one works, earns, and then the government confiscates. So, he begins again, earns only to have the government confiscate everything again… I decided that I would not accept this. I stopped attending my classes, and received failing grades [in those years, students who did not receiving passing grades from a course had to take a completion exam during the subsequent semester].

I took the completion exam without having studied at all. All 10 of us entered the classroom, where the exam was taking place. The professors were going to ask each one of us a question. After the first question, I began observing my classmates. Seeing that no one was going to answer, I called out “I am ready,” and responded to the question. The professor screamed “Get out!” I did not understand. Even if I got the answer wrong, I still had two more tries. Of course, in those years, vindication was unheard of. I left the classroom, and told my friends that I did not understand what had just happened. 10 days later, our grades were posted. I had received 20 out of 20!

I went to the professor’s office to thank him for the grade, but I could not help but ask him “If you were going to give me a full mark for the question, why did you ask me to leave the classroom?” He responded “You are as lazy as they get, but you are smart, and this is why you were able to figure out the answer to the question. Not only that, but you managed to come up with a simpler explanation than the one I had provided before. No professor would want to cheat from one of his students.”

That was how I decided to continue my education. By the time I was a senior, however, anti-Semitic events at school had significantly increased. That year, all seniors had to participate in a graduation project called the diploma project. For this purpose, a German professor was brought to ITU to help the students. His name was Kohl Bonatz, and his son was an SS Officer. After the War ended, his son was arrested, and it was a matter of time before they arrested him as well. One of the professors in Turkey, Emin Onat Bey, who at the same time was the Rector of our university, thought it would be more beneficial for both parties if Mr. Bonatz was brought to Turkey to teach instead of languishing in prison. Mr. Bonatz was a very educated, knowledgeable man. I remember being extremely afraid when I first saw him. At that time, my psychological wounds from the War were still fresh. The interesting thing about those times was that - contrary to what I had expected - I did not see gentlemanly behavior from my Turkish professors. It was instead Professor Bonatz, whose demeanor towards me was decent. When I look back on the anti-Semitic experiences I went through during the diploma project, I see that the Turkish professors were the ones who exhibited those types of behaviors, not Professor Bonatz.

For the diploma project, the students were given a task to come up with a plan to build a hotel (its interior, exterior - the works…). The project was expected to be beneficial to passengers arriving to and leaving from the Yesilkoy airport. After I completed a 3-4 page paper, I presented it to my professors. They looked through everyone’s project, and separated mine from the others. One of them told me “If you would, can we please put your project up on the board so that your classmates could benefit from your insights?” I was extremely happy, but later on, I found that I had failed. The professors had failed two more students like me; one of them was Russian, and the other was a Jew living in Izmir. We all wanted to resubmit our project, but the situation was getting worse. We realized the professors were determined to fail us. Therefore, we decided to take the problem as far as the Minister of Education at the time, Hasan Ali Yucel. He was both a customer and a good friend of my father’s. After hearing us out, he had to put in a good word on behalf of us to the university professors. Only then, were we allowed to graduate.

In order to start working, I had to go back to ITU first to get a certified document stating that I had graduated from the university. I went to see the Rector for this purpose. When he saw me, he asked “Where are you going tonight?” I responded “To celebrate my graduation.” [Back then, whenever one bought something new of importance or succeeded at a difficult task, friends, family and relatives got together to celebrate. This celebration is called watering the diploma]. The rector told me I could not go to the celebrations, and I asked “Why not?” He said “You have to be in Ankara by tomorrow morning. I found you a job there. I promised people that you are going to help build the Anitkabir” [the mausoleum dedicated to Ataturk. His coffin lies there]. I asked him “Can I leave tomorrow morning instead of tonight?” He responded “I think you did not quite understand. You are starting your new job tomorrow morning.”  I could not disagree with him. I went to Ankara by train [it is the capital of Turkey. It is approximately 500 km. away from Istanbul. In those days, it took about a 12-hour train ride to get to Ankara from Istanbul]. I was on the train all night.

In Ankara, I worked both as an architect and civil engineer for the building of Anitkabir. Most of my other colleagues worked either as an architect or an engineer. Helping in the construction of Anitkabir is my proudest work of all. For the construction, I had the opportunity to work with one of my university professors such as Emin Onat. He and I worked in the area where Ataturk’s tomb resided. This area does not have a lot of decorations; it is mostly made up of soil samples taken from the 67 cities in Turkey.

Ataturk’s tomb is built towards the south in accordance with Islamic traditions. However, his mausoleum is built towards the Ankara Castle. Anitkabir has a beautiful flagpole, which was constructed by an American-Turkish gentleman. Special transportation arrangements had been made so that it could be carried from Istanbul to Ankara. I was the one who was given this wonderful opportunity to prepare and install this flagpole, which was 33 meters in height.

One of the most important amongst my later projects has been the construction of the Hirfanli Dam [this dam is one of the most important river dams built in Turkey. It is situated along the Kizilirmak River. Kizilirmak rises from Middle Anatolia, and flows into the Black Sea. It is the longest river within Turkey]. I had seen an ad in the newspaper by the George Wilton Company, which was looking for a civil engineer. I applied for the job, and was called in for an interview shortly. During the interview, they asked me what I did for a living. I responded “I am an engineer.” The company executive asked me “What does that mean?” When I said “What do you mean what does that mean?” he began counting to me all of the subgroups under engineering such as mechanical engineering, mathematical engineering, etc… He wanted to know which one I was. I told him that I could do them all.

I was accepted to work on the project for a trial period of one month. They wanted to see what I could do first. My first assignment there was to build the wooden model and maquette of a tunnel that was 9 meters in diameter. After a few prototypes, I realized that some of the calculations for the maquette were not entirely accurate. I had the prototype model remade a few days before the groundbreaking ceremony. We were able to keep our noses clean; we presented an accurately made model there. Two days after the ceremony, the executive officer gave me the keys to one of the buildings, and told me that I was officially hired as a chief construction engineer.

Since I had to relocate for my work on the dam, I took my wife and daughter with me. Those were difficult days. We were living in an area of lower socio-economic status that also lacked a strong infrastructure. The engineers’ first responsibility was to construct the dam, and then work on the implementation of a stronger, environmental infrastructure. I remember my daughter getting very sick with a high temperature. I remember being extremely worried.

Another one of my strongest memories from those days is celebrating Passover [Pesach] across from the beautiful Kizilirmak view. We prepared the Seder, and celebrated Passover with another Jewish family residing on the construction site. Mr. Danon was also an engineer for the Dam project. I was already acquainted with the Danon family back from Yeldegirmeni. The family had relocated to Zonguldak for a project before moving onto the Kizilirmak Hirfanli Dam project. Mr. Danon and his wife, Julia, had a daughter named Nora. This was a wonderful coincidence, because there were now two Nora babies residing on the construction site for the Hirfanli Dam. I learned that Mr. Danon later ran into difficulties in finding work. He even offered me to be his partner for some new work, but I did not accept. I heard they later immigrated to Israel.

Suleyman Demirel [one of the most important politicians in Turkish history. He held many political offices; the most important being the President of the Turkish Republic] and Necmeddin Erbakan [also an important politician, he held the office of Prime Minister] were my classmates from college. When Suleyman Demirel was an executive in the Water and Sanitation Ministry, he came to visit the Hirfanli construction site. When my company’s executive director introduced us, Demirel said “How are you Arditi?” He used to always say that to me when we were going to school together. The executive director was shocked. He asked me why I never told him I knew Demirel. I responded “You never asked.”

I had the opportunity to meet with Demirel on a number of different occasions after that. When he was elected President, he threw an elegant dinner party in honor of his university classmates from ITU. We all wanted to go to Ankara to congratulate him anyway. He invited us and our wives to a beautiful reception at the Presidential Palace.

Back to the Hirfanli project… I had taken my annual leave in Istanbul that year. When I returned back to Ankara, a big surprise was waiting for me. The Company had hired a new foreman [a graduate of an engineering lycee. Foremans did not have engineering degrees from universities], and I was to work under him. I told my superiors I could not do that. When I submitted them my resignation, I was told “We realize you are the one with the degree, but this is how it works around here.” In the meantime, the Turkish Executive Director of the Company had called me in and told me he gave me a raise. I told him “I did not resign because of money. If I had, you would have known.” I asked him to kindly accept my resignation, and provide me with a letter of recommendation. I unfortunately had to send the letter back once it arrived. I instead contacted the Company’s arm in London to provide me with the kind of recommendation that I was looking for. The Board of Directors there gave me a very strong letter. When I was packing my belongings, the Executive Director told me “This Company has never provided an employee with as strong a recommendation as you were given. This document will take you far anywhere you want to go in Europe.”

After the Hirfanli Dam project, we relocated back to Moda. Since we did not have a house there, we stayed at my parents’ place. My brother, his wife Lizet and their son Bensiyon were already living there as well. In some ways, the family had all come back together again. My parents owned another apartment in the same building they lived; when the lessee decided to vacate the apartment, it was the perfect opportunity for us to move in. Although my mother preferred that I live with my brother and his family that was not possible because Nina and Lizet did not get along very well. Both families also had children. I had all my belongings in storage; I had put them there before I relocated to the Hirfanli area. Moving into the new apartment made sense for us, we were still going to live in the same apartment building with my parents and my brother. We saw each other frequently, and my mother, as always continued to handle our sometimes difficult behavior.

I have very interesting memories about my term in the military. After my training, I was given a diploma that stated my graduation status as a reserve officer. It also says “very good,” referring to the degree with which I finished my term.

After the War

I was enlisted in the military in 1950 as a reserve officer. I actually was enlisted before my mandatory military attendance date. I tried to network as much as I could so that I could finish my military term as quickly as possible. I began my military duties as a naval officer first (assigned to me by lottery). There were not any ranks in the naval forces in regards to architectural engineering, so I was ordered to wear the uniform of ground forces. I worked in the construction of a building in Heybeliada that is currently used as a military school. My commanding officers really liked my work, so they asked me what I wanted in return. One of my painter friends was also in the military at the time. I asked my officers if it was possible to station my friend to my unit so that he could help me with the drawings for the construction. In this respect, I was able to facilitate the relocation of one of my friends, and have him work with me. I knew he was having a very difficult time at his previous location.

On Election Day, which resulted in a victory for the Democrats, a curfew was enacted for military officers. We could not go out on the streets, so I was sitting at the military headquarters. My commanding officer, who was residing at a nearby building close to sea level, summoned me to his quarters. I received permission to leave, and went to see him. I remember seeing a high-rank officer sitting across from my commander. My commander asked the officer to leave, so I could sit down. Rank is a very important concept in the military. To be honest, I was scared because I did not know what to expect. In the meantime, the soldiers in the streets were busy with preparation efforts for the 19 May national holiday. They were performing acrobatic dances on a large, iron construction. My commander asked me whether I thought the construction was strong. I told him that I did not think the construction was sufficiently solid, and that there was a very good chance it could cave in. I also walked him through the steps that should be taken in order to make it stronger and more durable. In this way, I was able to correct some of the construction mistakes, and prevent a possible disaster from ever happening. My observation on this matter was very well received by my commander. From that point on, I can say that I had a comfortable military term. As an engineer, I was given the responsibility to supervise the construction of a railway system.

Back then, there was an exam called the platoon exam. The exam consisted of questions for the purpose of testing what kinds of strategies an officer would implement given a particular situation. I was asked a difficult question. Hypothetically, if I had not ordered my men to withdraw, my platoon would have suffered tremendous losses. But, I was not sure if I was brave enough to say this out loud. In the end, I did, and suggested to my commanders that maybe we should consider a voluntary attempt to withdraw rather than shooting blind at the enemy. I thought that human loss could be minimized this way. I believe that by offering this scenario, I was able to cause a change of mentality in the military. I was able to emphasize the importance of a voluntary and conscious attempt to withdraw. I was rewarded by full marks on my diploma.

My wife, Nina Silton, was born in Beyoglu in 1932. She graduated from the St. Benoit Lycee. She has a brother and a sister. Her older brother, Salamon Silton was born in 1928. He and his wife, Luna Barokas, have two children named Robert and Nora, who both live in Israel. My wife’s sister, Selma Silton, was born in 1940. She has two children named Davit and Sila. She lives in Istanbul.

I met my wife at a restaurant in Yesilkoy [a county close to the Ataturk Airport. It is a luxury neighborhood known for its greenery and one-story houses] through one of my cousins. My cousin had seen my wife making home-made tomato sauce. He said it was very good tomato sauce [Back then, during the summer, people used to make lots of tomato sauce in preparation for the winter. Tomatoes were scarce during wintertime. One was considered to be a very good house-wife if she knew how to cook tomato sauce, because this was a very rough task, and one had to know the ropes if she were to prepare it well]. My cousin believed that my wife could be a very good house-wife, and so he wanted to arrange a proposition meeting between me and her [proposition stands for the arranging of a meeting between a woman and a man by a third party for the sole purpose of marriage. Back then, women and men, who had met by proposition, generally ended up marrying each other shortly after].

After my wife and I went out a couple of times, we decided to take our relationship to the next step, and began discussing our engagement. This, of course, marked the beginning of the dowry discussions between our families.

[At this point, Mr. Arditi’s wife, Nina, begins to reiterate those discussions.]
At first, our families could not find a compromise. My brother wanted to cancel the engagement. We had a summer house in Yesilkoy, and we used to go there a lot. Just as  we were leaving for Yesilkoy, Albert’s mother called. She asked my mother if she would accept the following terms for our marriage: Albert’s family would agree to the dowry, but my family would first have to agree on what was called a ‘mezafranka’ [the term is used for a son-in-law, who lives with the family of his wife after the couple gets married. The duration of the stay is predetermined before marriage takes place. During this period, the wife’s parents support the newly married couple financially. In this way, the couple gets a chance to save money. This process often became a subject of discussion during dowry talks]. Other dowry items (las kamas) such as bedding and pillow sets were to be provided by the bride’s family.

My mother accepted these terms, but she did not initially tell my father about the mezafranka and the bedding sets, etc. when he came home from work. That night, Albert and his family came over to our house.

During this entire process, nobody asked what I had thought about marrying Albert. I actually had not made a final decision yet. I was not sure. I ended up being the silent party – if you will – in all this. That week, there was a bar-mitzvah at the Haydarpasa Synagogue. My parents sent me there as Albert’s date; they thought it would be good for me to go. After all, he was ijiko cudyo es [Ladino term for “Jewish boy”]. All the guests at the bar-mitzvah thought I was Albert’s fiancé. I remember one more thing. When I used to go to the summer cottage in Yesilkoy with my family, Albert would come, visit me there. I would expect to go and meet him at the train station, but he would ride a cab. When I asked him why he did not take the train, he would say to me “I could not wait for the train. There were 10 minutes left for departure.” Albert never did like to wait for anything for too long; he has always been a quick-to-act type of person. When he visited me, he would tell me that he wanted to be the one to take me out and show me around. This, of course, flattered my pride tremendously. In short, I “me topi espozada” [Ladino term for “I found myself engaged] to Albert, and “no me demandaron” [Ladino term for “they did not ask me”] – nobody asked me anything.

In the end, my mother did tell my father about the mezafranka, and she took care of the other dowry items herself, using the money she had saved up. Our witness at the wedding was Dr. Garti, who at the time was the president of the Jewish Community and a Mathematics professor. My family is really big; we had so many relatives that we did not want to cause any trouble in the family by choosing one relative as our witness. By choosing Dr. Garti, we had the opportunity to avoid breaking anyone’s heart, and to show our respects for the man.

[Mr. Arditi narrating]
My wife and I got married on the 24th of June, 1953, at the Hemdat Israel Synagogue in Yeldegirmeni [As the name implies, the Hemdat Israel Synagogue was opened with the permission of Sultan Albulhamit. 12 It was constructed in between two parallel streets; Uzunhafız and Izzettin Streets. The Chief Rabbi’s district chief, Moshe Ha Levi, made the official announcement on the 8th of April, 1899, that the construction of the synagogue had been completed, and that inauguration events were going to take place. It is known through the synagogue’s archives that Baron Edmund de Rochild had visited the synagogue on Yom Kippur day in 1899. Rabbi Yitzhak Saki is one of the most important personas of the synagogue. Other important persons, who are closely associated with the synagogue include Haim Nahum and Hayim Moshe Becerano].

The location of the wedding (on the Asian coast) put a lot of pressure on my wife because all of her family and relatives were living within the European side. Back then, there were no bridges connecting both sides of the city. All transportation consisted of cars and car-ferries. On top of all this, my mother-in-law was deadly scared of the water. It really became a huge burden for the Silton family to attend the wedding…

We did throw a beautiful dinner party. My wife had her wedding gown made at a dressmaker in Galatasaray [a district in Istanbul, where most of the luxury stores of the time were located. It is sometimes referred to as Pera. In addition to having stores which sold European goods, the district was known for its leading fashion houses and luxury restaurants. Galatasaray was the heart of night-life back then].

Before moving to our first house in Moda, my wife and I stayed at my mother-in-law’s house in Kuledibi for about a year and a half. I had a very difficult time living with my wife’s parents. There are many reasons for this. First, my mother-in-law’s cooking was entirely different than my mother’s. The second problem was that my office was located in Moda, and traffic to and from Kuledibi was a huge problem. Waiting for the tram, checking for ferry schedules was not for me.

I came home one day, and told my wife Nina “Look inside my pockets.” She asked “What is it?” I had a rent contract in my pocket. I had rented an apartment on the third floor of a building in Moda – without asking her. The apartment was overlooking the water. I knew that this was going to be a difficult step for Nina, because she was pregnant. On top of this, it was going to be her first time living on the Asian coast.

When we first moved into our new apartment, all we were able to manage was to complete the bedroom. The living room was empty. This was because there were not many furniture stores back then, and so furniture was made-to-order. The completion and delivery would usually take about 6 months. I remember going to the Kooperatif to get ourselves groceries and other kitchen necessities. We had everything set to start living in our new apartment.

We did not have continuous running water in the apartment; only at night would we have access to water. Back then, there were a lot of loaded water lines in Moda. I remember my wife waking up in the middle of the night so that she could fill up the water cans. Our baby would wake up because of the commotion, and she would feed her. My poor wife would stay awake all night taking care of the water issue and the baby’s needs.

I myself made it a point to come home for lunch. At this point, my daughter was already born, and my wife had a difficult time juggling everything. I remember her having to go down three floors just to get some bread. She did not have anyone to help her, but she still did not complain much. My wife believed that it was very important for the babies to go outside, and get some air. She would go outside with the baby everyday for two hours - once in the morning and once in the afternoon. She would go up and down those stairs all day long.

Our bedroom was very special in that its furniture and décor was made of rose leaves. Before my wife and I got married, we had wanted to order a bedroom set, but she could not decide on a model. She was very sad; she cried. I decided that – as an architect – I would draw a prototype bedroom set myself, and see if she liked it. She did, and so I had every detail of it made with extreme care. There still is not one blemish on the furniture. The carpenter I contracted gave me a special discount for the bedroom set. He later used my prototype model to construct two more bedroom sets of similar design and quality. He was able to sell them at very high prices. In this way, I can say that I not only worked as an architect in my life, but also as a decorator – even if it was just for my family.

My wife and I had two daughters together. Fortune Tuna was born in Istanbul in 1955. She studied architecture. Some of my old classmates became her university professors. But, Tuna never used this to her advantage. One of her professors even got suspicious once, when he heard the last name Arditi, and asked her “Are you in any way related to Albert Arditi?” She responded “He is actually my father.” Her professor then said “Alright then. Take this project back to your father, and ask him to help you on it.” He rejected her project submission.

When I completed my work on the Hirfanli Dam, my wife and I were asked to relocate to the United States so that I could work on the construction of a dam there. We thought of our family and children… We did not want our children to grow up in a foreign culture, so we decided not to leave. However, later when Tuna got engaged to Viktor Filiba, she and Viktor decided to relocate to the United States, and did not even ask for our permission. They just let us know that they had made a decision. We had no choice but to go along with it.

They moved to San Diego, and Tuna began working as a volunteer there for the Jewish Community. She still works as a volunteer at a synagogue. She gives several speeches in an effort to support child education. Among some of her interesting work, she conducted research regarding the Jewish Community of Turkey, and proposed that they were of a Spanish origin.

I remember her making a huge pandispanya [a type of cake], and handing it out to children there. She also has a box collection; she makes colored boxes that symbolize each Jewish holiday (the symbol for each holiday was carved on each box), and sells these at the synagogue. These boxes are made of a variety of materials such as porcelain, cardboard and ceramic.

Tuna changed her name to Mazal in San Diego [Fortune and Mazal carry the same meaning. Tuna is short for Fortune in the Turkish language]. Tuna gave birth to two daughters named Teri Ester and Michelle Nora [Giving a middle name to children is a tradition among the Jewish families of America. One of these names almost always is of Judaic origin].

My other daughter, Nur, was born in 1961 in Istanbul. She is an expert on Infectious Diseases. She married Ivo Benzonana, and they have a son together named Atay. Atay has grown up in our house because her mother has a full-time job. Just like her kids, my wife also took her grandson out everyday for two hours. She would even stay at Nur’s house sometimes so Atay could resume his order [Atay is short for Sabetay in the Turkish language]. My wife and I see Nur as our heavenly radiance, and Atay as our light…

Atay is currently 14 years old. He usually comes over to our house after school. My wife prepares quiches and cakes for him. They also come to our house every Friday night. To this date, we have continued to keep these Shabat [Shabbat] dinners as a tradition.

In our family, we have traditionally prepared a Seder table for Pesach. During these Seders celebrated in Arditi fashion, we ate, we drank, and we sometimes even got drunk. We would sing songs, and all members of the family would join in. We celebrated the holiday as a true celebration. But, the woman of the house would get very tired after the holidays. I also remember my mother getting sick after the holidays would end. I especially like celebrating Purim. It is a happy celebration for young people; costume parties are thrown, lots of jokes are made, and children play with rattle-toys. Children loved Purim because they would get lots and lots of candy.

After I got married to Nina, I continued living in Yeldegirmeni. There was an array of strong friendships there at the time. Restaurants, Taksim Public Casino [a famous casino of its time, where celebrities often performed. In some cases, internationally acclaimed artists would perform there as well], Club X were among the places we liked to go. I never liked going to the Prince’s islands, and I still don’t like it. The islands make me feel as if I am in a prison that is open on all four sides. I get anxious. You miss your ferry by a matter of three minutes, and you end up losing 2 hours of work. I believe that Kadikoy has a place that has all-things-island. I remember going frequently to Yakacik [a high hill situated near the Anadolu hillside. The hillside had a beautiful view, and was famous for its natural spring water]. We would go to Yakacik often for picnics, and eat a wide variety of different foods we had prepared earlier and Pendik [one would get to Pendik, which was famous for its fish restaurants by train].
   
I used to sell revenue stamps in my free time. One day, when I was out walking, I found an envelope in the street. My friend became very interested in this envelope, so I sold it to him. Later that day, when I was walking through the Yuksek Kaldirim area, I found some stamp catalogues, and I was intrigued. From then on, I continually bought and sold stamps. Sometimes I bought an Ottoman stamp from a person that was not interesting in having it, and then sold it to someone else. This became both a business and a hobby for me. By selling revenue stamps, I was able to gain an in-depth historical and geographical knowledge. There used be one of those contest shows on TV5; during one of those shows a woman who had responded correctly to a question, raised her hands in the air. She was doing the victory sign with her hands, and saying “A la filateli.” I think that selling stamps is something that truly enhances a person.

My thoughts on being a Shabbatai are that some of them are completely against Jews, and others behave as if they are Jewish. 13 I also have done some research on the Karaites. 14 I know there are two categories of Karaites. First, there are Karaites of Turkish and of Caspian origin. It is not entirely possible to know who among them are Turkish or Jewish. I am thinking that the Russian Jews in Kiev are possibly Karaite. Second, there are Karaites of Iranian origin; they are the sons of people who study the Bene-Mikva. They are not really open to change; they accept things as given, and are not open to different perspectives on the subject.

We, the people in Kadikoy, were not entirely affected by one of the important policies of the day ‘Citizens, Speak Turkish,’ 15 because we were already speaking Turkish among ourselves. No one really had to force us to speak Turkish, and they did not need to anyway.

We were affected by the anti-Semitism in Germany though; we often heard about these occurrences. I believe that these occurrences especially began to generate some heat among us after all of those awful events took place. Maybe, no one wanted to believe they were true. Maybe, there was fear. I remember following the War from a map. I knew that the snake had to be destroyed – no matter what. Everyone heard that Jews were being taken from their homes by force, but there was not much information as to what actually happened to them after they were taken. When things began to break the surface – if you will – it was over… Most of the damage had been done.

I remember that my father was called in to serve in the 20 military classes. He went to Sindirgi to fight. He was not a person to surrender really; he was a very hardworking person so he viewed the military as a sport in some respects. He was the eldest soldier within his unit, so he knew how to get everyone else’s respect.

During that period, I was running my father’s store, and my mother was helping me. I got along very well with Romanian immigrants because I spoke Hebrew. After the War ended, several groups of Romanians had immigrated to Turkey. They would first come to Istanbul, and wait for 7-10 days so that their immigration paperwork could be processed. I had met a young, Romanian woman, and we had spoken in Hebrew. Before she left Istanbul, she told me this “We are the happiest people on Earth. I have come here from Romania; I only know how to speak Romanian. You live in Istanbul, and speak Turkish. Our mutual language is Hebrew. I know that I now have a brother in Turkey.” I was really affected by what she said…

The establishment of the Jewish State, Israel, was an extremely inspiring event for the Turkish Jewry. We followed the happenings moment by moment. This made us feel complete in a way. We had heard the good news at 3:30 in the AM that evening; we were following what was going on through the New York radio. I got extremely excited when I heard Ben Gurion’s speech at the United Nations. What he said that day - “We have founded our Jewish State, and we have named it the Government of Israel” – still gives me goose-bumps.

The events of 6-7th September, 1955, 16 were felt in Moda in a significant manner.  I did not know what was going on, or what to do because I could not get myself to view this as an anti-Semitic event. This was truly a barbaric event for me. My daughter Tuna was only a month-old at the time. The insurgents trashed my father’s store. They turned that beautiful store into shambles. The store, which was known for selling the best of the best, and which was always fully stocked, had almost disappeared. Oil bottles were tumbling onto the streets. We were able to see from Moda what was happening on the other side of the sea. Our relatives had suffered insurmountable losses as well. The insurgents did not take the next step to their destruction; they only destroyed non-Muslims’ office buildings and businesses. Many Muslim landlords took their non-Muslim lessees under their wings. I remember my wife watching all the destruction from behind the window curtains, while holding her daughter in her arms. These events were extremely thought-provoking…

We had extremely strong friendships in the Yeldegirmeni neighborhood. Since we had all met each other when we were teenagers, the high level positions or protocols some of us have reached today, did not build a wall between us and our friendships. We discussed many subjects amongst each other. The subjects of religion and Israel were not taboo, but we still did not discuss them much.

I was not really an active participant within the Jewish Community, but I always made it a point to be readily available as an architect whenever I was needed. I personally participated in the construction of the Caddebostan Synagogue. I drew the prototype. I remember submitting the project’s details as if they were for the construction of a dance school, not a synagogue. I was called in, and asked “What kind of a dance school is this going to be?” I responded “This is my understanding of what a dance school should be like.” We had to request favors from some of our old friends in order to continue with the construction project.

I later worked on the air-conditioning installation and restoration projects for the synagogue. I actually remember calling into attention that the installation for some of the air-conditioning systems were not accurate. Later, there would be some collapsing in the exact installations I called into question. Rabbi Adoni, [the Rav haKal of the Caddebostan Synagogue.], did not get hurt because of the collapsing, because he was aware that I had foreseen these problems. Another project I worked on was the restoration of the Goztepe Kultur Organization (GKD) and construction of its ground floor. 17

I can describe my political affiliation as almost neutral. I tend to lean towards the left a little bit, but I cannot help but think that politicians will always have to lie. I remember asking a worker during the Hirfanli Dam construction project which political party he was going to vote for. It was national election days. He responded “I will not vote for Menderes.” 18 I asked him why that was, and he said “This is a predominantly Muslim country. He had wine factories built in this area. How can I vote for him after that?” I asked another worker, and he said he was not going to vote for Menderes as well. When I asked why, he responded “This area is filled with grape vines. Menderes only had one factory constructed in this entire area, but more factories mean more jobs.” What I am trying to say is that I don’t think it is possible to please all of your citizens. This means that politicians have to play for both sides as long as they are actively involved in politics.

I was extremely furious and saddened to hear about the Neve Salom massacre in 1986 19 as well as the attacks of 15th of November 2003. 20 For some reason though, I had received word that both of these attacks were going to take place; people were talking about preparation efforts for these kinds of attacks for a long time. I cannot do anything but condone terrorism.

I am currently spending my days with my wife. My daughter Nur, and my grandson Atay have become my biggest support system. Last month, we celebrated Atay’s bar-mitzvah. We had the ceremony at the Caddebostan Synagogue, and then threw him a dinner party at the Goztepe Kultur Organization. Celebrating my grandson’s bar-mitzvah in these venues, on which I have worked with tremendous pleasure, has been a truly exciting event full of pride for me. My wife Nina also shares my sentiments.

Haydarpasa Jewish Community Student Regulations

1. The school opens at 7:50 AM with a prayer ceremony, for which attendance by all Jewish students is mandatory.
2. Classes will be held between 8 AM-12 PM and 1-4 PM.
3. Students are required to come to school with appropriate uniforms and school supplies.
4. Students are required to leave their coats and umbrellas in the cloakroom before entering their classrooms.
5. It is forbidden to make noise when going up and down the stairs.
6. Older students are not permitted to leave the classroom during class sessions. Younger students are allowed to leave only with the permission of their teacher.
7. It is forbidden to make noise or yell in the classrooms.
8. It is not possible to leave the school premises before classes end. In cases of emergency, students can see the school Principal.
9. When class sessions end, students should wait for their teachers’ permission before leaving school.
10. After class sessions begin, it is only possible to enter a classroom with the teacher’s permission.
11. Students’ behavior while entering and exiting school premises should be in accordance with the behavior that fits a student.
12. Students who do not return home immediately after class sessions end will be punished.
13. It is forbidden to play in the streets surrounding the school.
14. It is a rule of respect, and therefore necessary for students to greet the teachers they are acquainted with.
15. Students are required to keep their books and notebooks well taken care of.
16. Students, who have behavioral problems, will be suspended.
17. Students, who engage in immoral behaviors, will be expelled.
18. Students who come to school with ripped clothing in spite of all warnings will be suspended.

Teacher Regulations

1. Teachers are required to observe all general rules and regulations of the school.
2. Teachers are required to sign the teacher’s book as soon as they arrive to school.
3. Teachers are required to observe students in a close manner during class breaks.
4. Teachers are required to ensure that entries and exits to and from the classrooms are in tandem with school regulations.
5. Teachers are required to ensure the cleanliness of classrooms before students come in.
6. Teachers need to completely follow the class curriculum.
7. Teachers are required to note the subject and content of each class in the appropriate place.
8. Teachers should not permit outsiders to disrupt a classroom while it is in session.
9. Teachers are not allowed to leave the classroom while classes are in session.
10. It is requested that teachers do not punish students in a physical manner.
11. Teachers cannot seek their students’ help for their private affairs or work.
12. The Principal will hold teachers responsible for ensuring that the class book is completed.

Recipe 1: Gaya Kon Avramila (Goby with Plums)

Ingredients:
1 kg. of goby, approximately 11-13 pieces
½ kg. sour plums
1 lemon
Salt and oil or margarine (amounts arbitrary)

Cooking Instructions:
Each goby piece is cleaned thoroughly. The fish’s gills are cut with a specific type of scissors. The fish is then washed thoroughly. The plums are also thoroughly washed, and boiled. After the plums are cooked, they are placed in a drainer, and crushed until the plum’s skin and kernel is left. In this way, the water of the plums is filtered. After the plums are mixed with oil and salt, fish is added, and cooked thoroughly to complete the process.
Have a great one! We wish you crowded Shabbat dinners.

Recipe 2: Tapada De Kezo (De Berendjena)

Ingredients:
-For the dough:
1 tea cup of water
1 tea cup of vegetable oil
1 tea cup of margarine (melted)
3 glasses of flour
1 spoonful of baking powder
Salt

-For the filling:
1 water glass of grated cheese
2 large potatoes (boiled)
2 eggs
Salt and pepper
If eggplants are preferred, two grounded and cooked eggplants can be used instead.

Cooking Instructions:

The dough ingredients are mixed until dough with a very soft consistency is obtained. If the dough does not stick to one’s hand, which means it is ready. Let the dough rest for about half an hour. Then, it is divided into two parts, and the first piece is rolled out onto a tray in a thin style. The mixture of ingredients are mixed, and added onto the dough. Then, the second piece of the dough is rolled out onto the tray – on top of the dough and the mixture. The grated cheese and the egg yolk are added on, and the tapadas are cooked in the oven for about 30-40 minutes. The approximate cooking time depends on the type of oven. Please don’t leave the kitchen, otherwise all your efforts might go in vain.

Note: Cutting the tapadas into small pieces before cooking ensures that they are cooked well and thoroughly. Also, please don’t forget to grease the cooking tray before preparing the tapadas.

Today, there are pre-oiled aluminum foils; many use these for cooking. Back in the old days, when we did not have ovens at our homes, we used to take the cooking trays to the bakery. This was generally the children’s responsibility. The children also had to take the trays back from the bakery once they were cooked. If the baker mistakenly overcooked the tapadas and burnt them, our mothers would say “You must have been distracted playing.” If instead, the baker undercooked them, our mothers would say “You must have gone to the bakery earlier to get the tapadas.” El ornero (the baker) had a big role in all this.

Every Friday morning, these types of pastries such as laz kozaz de orno, laz bulemaz, laz borekaz, la tapada, were exchanged among neighbors. Everyone would send her neighbors a piece of what she had cooked. This was called gostijo. The plate that was sent to the neighbor, was of course, returned in full with another pastry. There was almost a traffic of plates among all neighbors…

Glossary:

YASEF ROMANO
ISTANBUL
TURKEY
INTERVIEWER: ALBERTO MODIANO
DATE: MAY – JUNE  2005

I had the opportunity to interview Yasef Romano thanks to his daughter Ines. I became acquainted with Ines through her job in Matan Baseter 1 Barinyurt. When the subject of Ines’ father being from Edirne came up, I offered to interview him. Yasef Romano spends 4 - 4.5 days of his week in Edirne due to his work. He comes to Istanbul to be with his family on Fridays. He spends the Sabbath and the weekend with his family. When he comes to Istanbul, he stays in the flat no. 15 in Hayriye aparment, no. 17, in Gayrettepe Girne Sokagi (street). His wife stays here during the week too. They spend their summer vacations in the bay of Saroz as a family. He is a very active person, having been president of the Rotary and head of the Edirne Jewish community. While we were doing the interview, he suddenly had to have surgery due to an ailment he suffered. When we resumed the interview approximately three weeks later, his health was as good as it had been in the past. He has not neglected to instill the values and traditions he has inherited from his father and his religiosity into his daughters. Yasef Romano is a kind, optimistic person who is full of love.The interview with him was spread over a period of three months because of his health problems and his vacation. We met him three times for the interview.

Family background

Growing Up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

Family background

Our roots on my father’ side are from Rome, Italy. We found this out from the registrations in the Diaspora Museum in Israel. We thought we had Spanish roots.  We did not have the opportunity to talk with my father’s father or mother about how we came to Edirne. That is why I don’t have much information, I don’t remember at all. Our father did not talk much, either.

My paternal grandfather, Yasef Romano, was born in Edirne, my grandmother, Ida Romano was also born in Edirne, I do not remember the birth or death dates for my father’s father. My father’s mother’s maiden name was Dudu. I know that my grandfather was  a tailor in Edirne.  I don’t have any more information.
I did not get to meet my mother’s father or mother.

My father Yuda Romano, was born in Edirne in 1905.  My father first started to work as a secretary in the Edirne Jewish community. Later on he became a rabbi. But you cannot call that being a rabbi exactly.  He worked as a philosophy teacher in Alliance Israélite Universelle 2 in Edirne which was a foreign school. He taught philosophy classes in French. He raised a lot of students. The students he raised constantly came to visit him. He had another job also. My father started commerce, but he continued with the community work. He was serving as Grand Rabbi also.

He worked as a cantor too. But he could not open the Sefer Torah as a cantor. Why: We managed a store together.  I opened the store on Saturdays.  And since he was my business partner, he said: “We sin on Saturdays, I cannot open the Sefer Torah in the synagogue on Saturday”.  But he raised important rabbis.  He had more knowledge than rabbis. My mistake towards him was to open the business on Saturdays. Until he died, on Saturdays he neither touched electricity, nor warmed up food. He was excessively orthodox, he would not let others shop on Saturdays even, and he wouldn’t talk to us.  He was very angry with us for opening the store. But it was not possible to close the store in Edirne.

He was a very social person in Edirne. They would meet every Saturday at 10.00 a.m. in a wine store. But the wine seller was an important Jewish philosopher named Israel Reytan. He would open his store only when the mayor pasha came on Saturdays.  He would have philosophical talks with the mayor, pasha and head of municipality of Edirne. Sometimes they took me too. I remember this very well.  Sometimes they would meet in a library, open the books, and do their own interpretations.  He died in 1988.

He is still remembered in Edirne. Some of the students he raised in Alliance school became mayors or ministers. Unfortunately I do not remember the names. He would help the poor, everyone. He helped the government of Israel a lot too. [After the death of Rabbi Mose Behmuaras, who took over the job from Hayim Becerano, the general secretary, Yuda Romano took care of business in the Edirne community in the 1940’s due to the absence of a Grand Rabbi. Yuda Romano was the representative of the Jewish Agency from Edirne between 1940-1946, and was a big help to the Jews who were coming from Bulgaria and Greece en route to Palestine; he waited for the trains, sleeping in the stations through the night. (Rifat N. Bali Edirne Serhattaki Payitaht, YKY Publications 1988 p. 224)]

After I was born, my father worked at the Grand Rabbinate then, in 1955 he started a business with me as well as working at the Grand Rabbinate. We sold gasoline and tires for automobiles. At the same time, he continued at the Grand Rabbinate. He would open the Sefer Torah until 1955. After 1955, because I was opening the store, and because he was my business partner, he said I was sinning and did not open the Sefer Torah.

My father died in Israel on March 2nd, 1988, and was buried there.  He had an open sore on his face for thirty years. He had skin cancer. He could not have that sore taken care of, once and for all.  The doctor said, don’t touch it, it will not bother you.  At the end it started penetrating under the skin. Since my older sister lived in Israel, my father went to Israel, had surgery and got rid of it.  He stayed with my older sister, he kept calling me, “my son, take me away from here, take me to Edirne, I want to stay in Edirne, and die in 
Edirne”.  It wasn’t meant to be, he died in Israel. I could not go to his funeral because my passport wasn’t ready, he was buried in Israel.  However it happened, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs got news about my father’s death. I received a phone call from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They said, your father died in Israel, your father belonged to Turkey, we will cover all the expenses to bring his funeral to Turkey. Because your father was very useful to the government. I was not expecting something like this then, I could not answer on the spot. Then I thought, why should he come here, he is buried in the holy land, with requests and so on, he stayed there.

My father wore a shirt, tie and jacket with a felt hat, summer or winter. He shaved every morning. He even had two pieces of advice for me. He would say “My son, you will go to work before the sun comes up, and you will not insult your friends, how do you insult them?  By having a beard. You will shave every morning, absolutely and absolutely, as soon as you get up, you will face your friends, your clients, shaved.  If you face them with a beard, it is a big insult”. I never forget his words.  For twenty-five years, I am at work every morning at 5:30. I get up at five, I go to bed at midnight or one in the morning.  I have tried to apply his legacy for 25-30 years. He had another testament. When my wife’s father died in Edirne, sometimes we could not form a minyan for the morning prayers. I would get up at 5:30, go from door to door, and gather a minyan. This is a habit for me now.

My father was excessively serious, very interested in philosophy, he was a good philosopher. My father was a true philosopher, they still remember his philosophy in Edirne. I inherited his principles too. He never thought negatively in his lifetime. He always thought positively. Let’s think of good, may it be good, he used to say. When sometimes we would say something like it will be bad tomorrow, “don’t even utter it”, he would say. “Always think positive”, he used to say. He never thought negatively and he did not let us either.

My mother Ines Romano was born in Edirne. I do not remember the birthdate. She was a very humble woman. She would not attend meetings a lot. Because my father had a principle. When my father came home from work, he wished to see my mother across him. When my mother went somewhere, she would come half an hour earlier. When my father arrived, my mother had to be the one opening the door. But this was a habit based on love and respect. My father had a principle about food. Don’t ever leave the table full in the evenings. In the evenings you get up hungry. Eat the most food at lunch, because you can eat till the evening, he would say. My father used to eat at lunch. He would arrange his schedule accordingly, when it was 12 noon, he would come home from work to eat, my mother would worry, has the food gone cold?

My mother was slender and graceful and her hair remained black till she died. Every mother views her child differently. But she spoiled me excessively, even my spouse complains about this. My mother and father never let me want for anything in my life.  My mother was even a big support when we went out with friends, as a group. When my friends got fifty pennies, I would get a hundred pennies.

My mother is a highschool graduate, I do not remember which highschool. My father on the other hand, graduated from university. He studied in Istanbul, I do not know which university.  But I think it was either economics or math. He would solve all of our math problems. I know very well that he studied in university. Their mother tongues were Turkish and Judeo-Spanish, they would speak Spanish and French among themselves, they would speak Turkish with us. Because we did not speak the Judeo-Spanish language very well, they would speak Turkish with us.

Our livelihood was from the gasoline station and auto tire store that we opened with my father in 1955. My father previously had a salary from the Grand Rabbinate, that is to say, the community.  In addition, he had a salary from the school. He was a great Mason. He hid this for 60 years, he told us two years before his death. He was a very tight-lipped person.

My mother and father probably met in Edirne, because they were both from Edirne. There was a great love between them. Yuda Romano constantly would come to the balcony and serenade her. Their love was very, very strong. There was great affection. When my mother was sick, my father would cry. A person who appeared so serious and strong, when my mother got the flu, he would cry in the other room. When they asked him why he was crying, he would lament “what if something happens to her?”. My mother would do everything he said, but at the same time she was wary of him. For example, sometimes she had to buy something on a Saturday, she would go without letting him know and come back.  Their wedding was in the Edirne Synagogue, I do not remember the date.

My father always dressed very well, but on Saturdays, he would dress even better. He was a person who attached a lot of importance to Saturday. He reserved his best outfits for the Sabbath day. He did not dress like this even on Yom Kippur. Even his shoes would be polished, as if new.  He wore a vest, jacket and hat even in the month of August.  He dressed well till the day he died. My mother was like that too. I did not take after them, not even 10%.

The financial situation of the family was good. There were no cement houses in Edirne then. The houses were made of wood. But it was one of the most beautiful houses in Edirne. It had three stories. Our house was at Kaleici, Dogan Mahallesi, Cumhuriyet Caddesi. This was in the Jewish neighborhood. There were no bathrooms in the houses then, but this house had a bathroom and a laundry room on the ground floor.  On the second floor, there was a guest room, a bedroom and a livingroom. On the top floor my parents’ bedroom, sittingroom, kitchen and another livingroom. His room was on the top floor. We used to live with my wife on the middle floor and relatives on the bottom floor.  It was quite a big house. There were beautiful antique furnitures. The heating was provided with a stove. Coke coal was used for heating then. There were trees, plants, in the garden and a cistern where rainwater gathered. They probably used the cistern for laundry. I think there was also a cat in the house.  A lady would come continually for housework.

There were quite a lot of books in our home. When my father left for Israel, he went with the philosophy books. My older sister lived on an upper floor. He was going to Israel for surgery. My mother had died in 1986, from arteriosclerosis. My older sister prepared his bag. She put his underwear in his bag. Then my sister went upstairs, when she left, my father emptied that bag completely, and put only the philosophy books. I will take my father to the airplane, I can’t lift the bag. I ask him, “what did you put here”, he says “I put underwear”.  “Is that possible?”, I say. This is his answer: “I will not need underwear there, your older sister will find me some underwear anyways, but she cannot find these books”.

He did not stay home much, but wherever he went, he would read the same philosophy books.  “Dad, you have read this book before” I would say. “My son, I take pleasure every time I read it” he would reply. We had the Koran, Bible and Torah, all three in the house.  He would read all and interpret them for everyone.  He even provided the explanation to Muslims. He was that knowledgeable. When he left for Israel, he went with the philosophy books and he died with the philosophy books. In addition, he had a lot of books on religion. He recommended the books by Orhan Hancerlioglu to me. He enjoyed reading the newspaper a lot.

I assume that there was no one in Edirne or Istanbul  that was as extremely religious as he was. He applied all of the Jewish traditions. He observed kashrut. He went to the syngagogue every Friday and Saturday. He attached a lot of importance to celebrating holidays, he wanted to see all of us at his side. You pay holiday visits on holidays, as you know, but when it was our holidays, he would let the public know, because he wanted them to come and see how to celebrate Jewish holidays. He wanted them to know what Yom Kippur, or Rosh Hashana signified. In Passover, a table would be laid out, 30 people would sit down with him as the leader. He would read the Seder in Hebrew and the reciting tone.  We always reminisce about those days.

He participated in a lot of social events.  But he also had an inclination towards a particular political party. He leaned towards the Party of the People. That is what he claimed, maybe he said it because of politics. They would ask “Who did you vote for?”.  I would not tell that even to my wife, this is between me and G-d. All the Jews voted for the Democratic party, but he supported the Party of the People, if he was serious about this, or this was a joke, he did not tell anyone.  My father did his military service, but where, I do not know.

All of my father’s neighbors were Jewish. They had a very good relationship.  Everyone felt reluctant in front of my father. Because he was excessively strict and minded the rules, even we did not speak much inside the house. His friends mostly were the mayor, the pasha, the head of municipality of the time, that is to say, the bureaucrats. They found it difficult to be friends with him, because they could not attain his personality or knowledge. They wanted to take advantage of his philosophical knowledge.

He never went on vacation.

My father was part of six siblings, four boys and two girls.

Isak Romano was younger than my father. All of his siblings were born in Edirne, then they came to Istanbul for commerce. He was in the business of cheese in Istanbul. Isak’s son, Jojo Romano lives in Istanbul. His grandson was involved in a meat scandal.

Salvator Romano was the manager at Grundig. Then he emigrated to Israel. I do not know if he is currently alive.

Nesim Romano did not work. His siblings took care of him. He died.

Ines Kalvo, housewife, lives in Israel.

My mother was five siblings, four girls and one boy.

The oldest was Gina (Alkalay) Gerzi,  the one younger, Doret Gerzi, lives in Morocco. She probably died. One sibling was shot in Greece and died, I do not remember the name, then it is my mother, and she has a younger brother, Nesim Gerzi, he lived in Marseilles.

My mother and father did not visit often with their relatives. That is because there wasn’t the transportation vehicles of today, then.

Growing Up

In my childhood, I think close to 15,000 Jews lived in Edirne. The Sabbath days had a special place. That day, after leaving the synagogue, we would go strolling to parks, to river banks. Saturdays was a different event for us.  Everyone dressed well. There was a park called Bulbul Parki (Nightingale Park), ladies, gentlemen, when they left the synagogue they would eat their dezayuno [Ladino term for breakfast] (boreks) there. On Saturdays, this event was known among the Turks too. There was a beautiful unity. This will be considered a reproach, but today’s Grand Rabbinate in Istanbul cannot provide this unity. Here everything is about materialism. I am still on the Board of Consultants of the Jewish community, one day we are at a meeting of the Board of Consultants. Naim Guleryuz was presiding. “Dear Yasef, would you like to say something too?”  I said “Yes”, the Grand Rabbi was then David Asseo. “I have a complaint about you, you cannot inspire the Jews in Turkey with unity, accord or brotherhood.  Please do not create separatism. In addition, the subject that bothers me most is assimilation. In the future this is going to be a big problem. Please let’s take measures against this. Let’s be in unity and accord with Jews.  A small child cannot go to Dostluk Yurdu [Jewish Youth Club founded in 1966]. It is a question of money. You only look at it from above” I reproached them. I still think this way. They help a lot, they educate students, but it stays at this level. Why, they do their own advertisements. After that I did not go to a meeting of the Board of Consultants again. There was a lot of unity and accord in Edirne. My father was a very strict man, but he paid a lot of attention to solidarity among Jews. We were all like a family. Whenever someone had a problem, or someone had a happy occasion, we would run there. That is to say we shared everything.  We lived through the good days and bad, the sweet and the beautiful together.

There were a lot of horses and horse-carriages in the city, quite a lot. Transportation was provided by this anyways. We would go on city tours with horse-carriages.  The streets were covered with paved stones, but sometimes the roads could be muddy too.  There was a population of  40-45.000 in Edirne. The Jews numbered 15.000.

There is one synagogue in Edirne that is now demolished. In the old times, there was one synagogue in each neighborhood. They were about 40-50. For example ladies had a separate synagogue. This was like a one-room prayerhouse.  They would gather and do their prayers. They had a rabbi, a gardener. There were synagogues according to professions. There even was a city club. It had no name, I even was on the board of directors.  All social activities took place there.  I worked on the board of that city club too. I am not a founder. This club was for Jews. There would be balls, garden parties once a month. For example, we would gather there after lunch, it had a large library for whoever wanted read, or we played card games. From time to time, musical meetings took place.

The Edirne Synagogue is a story in itself.  We did not gather there every morning. We gathered in the midrash that was next to it, in the back. The memory that stayed with me most was Saturday prayers. There would be lunch after Saturday prayers, then we would get together with the rabbis, all the Jews would eat their meal, and then enter the synagogue again and would sing different songs from different tones.  For example from Dede Efendi, but we sang it in Ladino.  They were all inclined towards Turkish Art music. These were in Hebrew. Today I don’t remember them. In Ladino, with the tonality of Turkish Art music. Nisim Kalaora, he even practiced music with my father for an hour and a half there. That moment still lingers in my memory. They distributed cheese candy to all of us there. It was a very interesting thing.

As far as I can remember, there was one usher and three rabbis. One was the famous Rafael Pinto, he worked in the Grand Rabbinate too. It had a mikveh, Talmud Torah and a Yeshiva.

The Jews lived in the neighborhoods of Kaleici, Sabuni Mahallesi, and Bostan Pazari Mahallesi in Edirne especially. They were sellers of dry goods and notions, moneylenders and cheese sellers. We had electricity in my childhood, and running water.

I lived through events of antisemitism.  At the time there was the campaign of “Citizen, speak Turkish”. 3 Later a “Death to Zionists” association was founded. It was the years of 1964-1966. They did not want the public to shop from Jews. But  we stayed on top of them insistently with the help of the Police Headquarters. The one who helped us most was the father of Emrullah Isik,  police chief Feyzullah Isik. He put a positive end to the event. He threatened the association even if it was illegal. In addition, there was thefts in the synagogue. The books of the synagogue were sent to Istanbul.

I do not remember military parades or special celebrations, but I remember something relating to our holidays.  We are going to temple on Yom Kippur day. Coincidentally, the same day is the first day of Ramadan. We are going to temple at 7:30 in the morning for Yom Kippur. I don’t remember which period it was, just as I arrived in front of the synagogue, a police car approached and stopped.  He asks “Brother, where are you going?”. Of course he does not know I am Jewish. “I am going davening”, I said. The police said “When there is Selimiye, the old mosque, why do you come here to daven”. I said I will go here, without explaining. Of course he doesn’t know what a synagogue is. I still remember this small argument.

I still remember the Independence march and the Tenth Year march.

There weren’t any merchants or vendors where we shopped exclusively. There was a neighborhood bazaar and shopping was done there. The men of the house went shopping.

I was born on August 6th, 1938. I did not go to preschool. My mother took care of me. My first education was in the Ismet Pasha 4 elementary school where I was president for 30 years.  The name of the school was later changed to Sehit Asim school. I finished junior high and highschool in Edirne highschool. All were public schools. I loved social studies, history and geography most. I hated physics. One day we were experimenting in the laboratory. They were going to test us on that experiment. I left the lab saying I am going to the bathroom, I had loosened the fuses. I could never grasp physics, that is why I got special tutoring.

I did my national service in Denizli during 1959-60. While I was in the military, I got engaged on May 27th, 1960. I returned to Edirne in 1962. Before I left for the military, I was working in my father’s business. I got married and started working.  I took over the business which was the sale of auto tires in 1962 completely. I still do this work. We also had a franchise for Mobil. Later my father retired.

Our elementary school friends were generally Jewish. Of course there were Muslims too. We had a good dialogue. There was no religious discrimination in school.  We were together with Turks in groups of friends. They did not discriminate.

My wife’s older brother Menahem Razon was my friend. We had parties amongst ourselves. We gathered in houses on Sundays. We visited relatives in their homes on holidays.

I liked soccer and music.  They provided me with private lessons because I liked music. I did not play any instrument, I only took tonality lessons. We had stone records.  We had a gramophone. We did not take vacations that much in my childhood. We would go to  Karaagac on the weekens in Edirne with my family. We had a house there. In my childhood, there were two or three taxis in the city. We went to Karaagac every Friday at lunch time with my mother. My father stayed in Edirne because he had to be in the temple on Saturday. My father would come on Saturday in the evening. We sometimes went on Saturday morning. All the Jews would come there. It was a perfect summer resort. I don’t remember it but all the embassies, Greek embassy, Bulgarian embassy, American embassy had house there.

At the time we would go on the train from Edirne to Istanbul. When the train was going to Istanbul, it would pass through Greece, it would stop for five-ten minutes, then we would enter Uzunkopru. We would go from Edirne to Greece, then to Uzunkopru in Turkey with the train.

We are three siblings. My older sister Ida (Nee. Romano) Kasuto  was born in Edirne in 1929. She is married to Sami Kasuto. Sami Kasuto was a grocer and seller of candy in Edirne. He was from Babaeskili. My older sister has two sons. One is Hanri Aaron Kasuto, the other Yuda Kasuto. They left for Israel in 1964 and 1966.  Henri worked in Turkey quite a bit. He still comes and goes. Ida Kasuto currently lives in Israel. Her son Aaron died in Israel during the six-day war 5.

My second older sister Rejina (nee Romano) Sarfati,  was born in Edirne in 1932, she died in Istanbul in 1994.  She studied in Ismet pasha elementary school.  She attended junior high and highschool there too. She married Samuel Sarfati  She had two daughters and a son. Meri and Ines are the daughters, Modi the son. Ines lives here. She is on the board in Goztepe Kultur dernegi(cultural association) now, Meri and Modi live in Israel. My older sister’s husband worked in shipping in Edirne. Later he came to be with us. When my sister died he left for Israel and lives there.

We would always go to Mahazike Tora6.  They would even call us up to the bimah on the Sabbath as Mahazike Torah students. The rabbi would not read some of the portions, we would all sing it together. It was more tones of songs, I would get up and sing three lines, another friend would get up and sing another three lines. That is how it was on Yom Kippur. On the weekends, every Sunday, we would definitely have one or two hours of lessons, we would always have education during holidays. My father participated too. There was no Hebrew education in Mahazike Tora, we only learned how to read. My father knew Hebrew in Edirne. There was no one else who knew it in Edirne. I think he learned it from Mahazike Torah too. But Hebrew and the language of the Torah are different. My father knew both the language of the Torah and Hebrew. We only learned how to read religion.

My father was very official on the Sabbath.  I still remember it like today, when it was Friday, around four or five, we would come home. It was not exceptable not to bathe. Then we would put on our new clothes, and we would wear them the next day too. We would all go to the synagogue. There was even a place for ladies in the big synagogue. Then we would gather around the table at home. If the table was not set early on Friday evenings, my father would bring the place down. The table had to be ready around five. We will go to the synagogue. If it was necessary to leave the house at seven-thirty, we would leave at seven-twentyfive. My father would say “No.  You will go early, dedicate yourself to G-d, you will discard all your thoughts”. You will face G-d and G-d only, there. He would insistently admonish us about this. Please do not think about your classes when you are going to temple. Do not think about money when you come to temple. Do not think about your business when you come to temple. Don’t ever ever say “My G-d, help me with my business”.  G-d knows all of this. If you are worthy of him, G-d will help you, he would say. The biggest sin would be to say, my G-d, I don’t have money, help me. His most important habit was to go to temple early on Saturday mornings.

My bar-mitzvah took place in 1951. We were very wealthy then. It was a nice bar-mitzvah. It left a nice impression with me. The piece that was written had really affected me.  I don’t remember exactly. They had given us a piece of writing both at the temple and the day we celebrated. That we had to be respectful to our mother and father, that we would not sin against G-d, it really affected me. We were very emotional. We had celebrated the evening in our home in Edirne. It was crowded, the whole community came because of my father’s duty.

I liked Rosh hashana holiday best.  Kippur was a little boring.  You could have fun during that holiday. Purim also went very well.  We did not eat meat that was not kosher, therefore we did not eat out much.

During the War

Because I was born in 1938, I do not know much about the history of the Turkish Jews around the 1940’s. My mother’s sister was in Greece. The Germans took her from there to Austria, and from there she was sent to the camps.

My deceased father met hundreds of refugees running away from Europe.

Due to my father’s duty, we were not affected by the Wealth Tax7.

In the spring and summer of 1943, there were a lot of events of arresting and displacing that happened towards nonMuslims. The father of my wife and two uncles went to the 20 military classes8.  The conditions were very harsh, they even had to drink from streams where frogs lived.

We were very affected from the campaign of “Citizen, speak Turkish”. We became low-spirited. There were even sermons in mosques; “Do not shop from Jews”. Posters were hung. “Citizen, speak Turksih”.  I started commerce in 1945. It did not affect me. There was even a letter.  There is a friend who we love a lot, Tekin Sayinbas. He did not want to be friends with a large group. He liked being friends with us a lot. He received a threatening letter because he was friends with us. This had scared us a lot.  Later this friend stopped seeing us. But now we are still in touch.

My father saw the Thrace events9, but it did not reflect on us.

My wife’s mother Sofi Razon (maiden name was Razon) was a very religious and zionist person. She never said anything against anyone. She always protected. She was very religious. She did not light the stove on Saturdays.  Muslim women who lit stoves would go around outside. She would call one of them and had it lit. She would never light a fire, on Saturdays.

My wife’s father is Salamon Razon.  He like growing eggplants, tomatoes. They had a grapevine. On summer evenings they would eat dinner underneath the grapevine. In the home of my wife’s family, they had a chicken coop, cats and dogs. Her older brother Menahem liked animals. One day he brought home a dog he found on the streets. It will stay in our house, he said. Later he grew so much, he did not fit in the house or garden, they made him a guard dog at the door. My wife’s childhood was very pleasant.  She grew up in open air, in parks. Her mother tongue was Judeo-Spanish. My wife’s mother did not speak Turkish well. They would speak French or Spanish most of the time.

He was very close to his family. He worked in the commerce of dry goods and notions. He had two stores. He stayed in one, my wife’s older brother Menahem in the other one. She had a very good childhood, she grew up in a very loving family.  She lived in Edirne in a wooden house. It was three stories. She has one older brother and one older sister.  They now live in Israel. Nady Behar and Menahem Razon. She had a very good childhood with them. My father was a very special person. He died when I was still engaged, very young, at 54 years of age. He did not see our wedding, our wedding took place three months later. My wife still misses him dearly.  They would invite relatives on holidays, on weekends, on Sabbath days, and eat all together and sing songs, it would be very pleasant.  Long tables would be set for holidays. He had friends.  Twelve girls, twelve boys, they would go out and have fun together. Later all of the Jews left for other cities or out of the country.

My wife’s father did his military service in Sarikamis. My wife’s father Salamon Razon, brought his merchandise to the house they lived in. Later her aunt tried to convert that to  money at home.  Dina Razon (Mizrahi) is still Erol Mizrahi’s mother. He closed up his house during the Wealth Tax and moved to Ortakoy in Istanbul with my wife’s mother, older brother and older sister. When business took up, they returned. My wife’s mother used to tell us, they had difficult days. They would get a quarter of a loaf of bread with a ration card, at one time when they were in Kuzguncuk, my wife’s older brother and sister would go to buy bread, on the way home would eat the bread before they reached the house.  Everything was prepared at home.  Bread and something similar to bread “Panne de pinion” (corn bread) it was called. There was severe shortage. My wife was not born yet, these are what her family relates.  My wife was born after the war. My wife’s aunt Dina Razon, was an outgoing person. Her mother and father died when she was very young.  She became an orphan. When she was 11, she was raised by my wife’s mother and father. My wife knew her as her older sister. She was 11 years old when she came to my wife’s family. After her mother and father died, the father married her sister (that is how it was back then), my wife’s father Salamon Razon was born. The father was the same, mother different.  I do not know her education, she speaks Spanish all the time. She loved people, helping everyone, chatting, and also matchmaking and she was good at it. She also knew how to sew very well.  She sewed a lot in Edirne, her sewing was “Haute Couture”.

My wife’s brother Mehahem Razon was my classmate. We grew up together, with her older brother.  We were children from the same neighborhood, our houses were very close. The spark happened from there.

My wife Luna Romano was born in Edirne on August 25th, 1944.  She studied in Sehit Asim school. She went to junior high and highschool in Edirne. They went out with the same group of friends for years. They would get together at homes on weekends, hold parties. My wife’s family are people who are loved and respected in Edirne. Today we still continue our friendship with some of her friends in Istanbul.

After the War

Our wedding was a little sad. My wife’s father had passed away before the wedding. We were in mourning because of that. In our family, mothers and fathers are above everything. We were raised in formality, but attachment was more prevalent in my wife’s family. In a family where everyone is so close, our wedding took place in an atmosphere of melancholy due to the absence of the father.   Normally one would organize an evening for a wedding. We could not have the wedding even though we were wealthy. We were going to have fun but there would be sorrow in us. We married on September 9th, 1962 in Edirne Synagogue, we went to Istanbul by train that night, we stayed at the Hilton hotel.

My older daughter Ines was born in 1964, and in 1973, my younger daughter Sima. My wife struggled in Edirne for their education. She won entrance to Besiktas Anadolu Lisesi (Besiktas Anatolia highschool) after finishing elementary school.  We were obliged to come to Istanbul so my younger daughter could get a better education.  My wife had to cut her ties to Edirne. We did not want to leave her alone in Istanbul. We helped her so she could study here. Then my older daughter got married. We came and went for her too. Our life was spent on the roads. But we are tired now. Luna is more attached to Istanbul now.

We did not have a refrigerator in Edirne in our childhood. One Saturday, we were having guests from Istanbul. My wife’s mother and father prepared the food on Friday and lowered it to the well.  The weather is hot. She lowered the fish too, so the food will not go bad. When the food was pulled from the well, the rope snapped. Everything fell to the well. My wife’s mother cannot forget her agitation. “What am I going to serve them”  Thank G-d she was a very prudent person. There were meat based meals in the screened closet.  The food that had been baked did not go to waste fast. Those were taken out. Later on they stopped keeping food in the well. We had a cupboard, we would buy ice blocks from the ice store.  They had a very beautiful garden. They had every fruit you could think of.

My wife’s family celebrated every holiday with all the details. During Purim, relatives and friends in Edirne would give out Purim candy. It was red and white Purim candy. They made different shapes from Purim candy, the six corner star, a heart and so on. He would make candy as big as a tray, there was an old candymaker, he used to make the candy, the name of the candymaker was  Sami Kanetti (father of Soli Avigdor) and he would decorate the tray beautifully. We would put our best tablecloths on the tray and arranged the candy on it. At the same time, you would put tezpisti (a syrup-soaked cake) and an orange in the middle, I do not know the meaning of this. This was sent especially to those who were in mourning. The women who worked for us distributed it to houses.  They would be tipped in houses. So many sweets were made for Purim that we had a cupboard, during those holidays, it would be filled with sweets from one end to the other. Especially during Rosh hashana borekitas, tatli de muez(walnut sweets), tezpisti, mekikler (a kind of muffin), so many, many things were made. Because there were a lot of guests coming and going, a lot of sweets were made at their house. 

When you say Passover, cleaning up started a month before. Everything would be unstitched, would be washed.  Anything you could think of would be washed.  We had a special cupboard for Passover. In that cupboard, the pots and pans, plates that were to be used only in Passover were kept separately. When Passover came, they would all be taken out, washed, the old ones put away, and the ones for Pesah arranged in place. You could not find flour ready to use in Edirne in Passover. The matzos were thick and hard. They were so hard, that there was a bakery in Edirne called Has firin. That bakery would be washed, cleaned, prepared for Passover and matzos were produced. This was a bakery with arrangement but we, the Jews bought it in 1964. The matzos would be baked there after they were prepared. Yuda Romano participated in the preparing. The matzos looked like round breads and were flat. But they became hard when they waited, we ate it with difficulty.  We always softened it to eat. Since there was no matzo meal, we would grate this bread. My mother made us grate it all the time, so it would be ready. Cakes, tezpistis have to be prepared, there is no flour. We would grate, and we would add it to other meals.

Later we would start preparing the food. Among the Passover foods, the one made with spinach was called ‘Minas d’ispanaka”. Now this meal that is baked in ovens, was fried at the time.  It was fried on a pan, burmelos (fried matzo and egg balls), fritaz de ispanak, pirasa, patates (frittatas of spinach, leeks, and potatoes). Potatoes wasn’t popular then, later it became more popular.  It left us the impression that you don’t eat it. Kilos of spinach were bought, washed (he tells while laughing) and cooked. We did not eat rice. We did not eat feta cheese or kasheri even. There wasn’t much then like today.  Our wine came from Istanbul. We would also make Sarope (jam-like candy made with sugar and water).

My wife’s mother would make a special pastry from pumpkins for Rosh hashana. My wife still cannot manage that. Because the dough was special, she would roll it herself with her hands. She would cook the pumpkin with sugar and make a special pastry.  She would also cook leeks. Because these are the first vegetables to come out.  Rosh hashana has a special meal. Of course there is no fish in Edirne but carp. Sheatfish cannot be eaten because it does not have bones. As you know, boneless fish cannot be eaten in Judaism. Carp really was prepared deliciously.  I still remember the delicious taste. My wife’s mother would make any sweets you can think of in Rosh hashana. We had a cupboard, that cupboard would fill up with sweets. My older brother had a sweet tooth. One day he had eaten enough sweets, but because he wanted more, he had climbed on top of the cupboard, and when he climbed on top, the cupboard fell on him.  Those sweets became inedible then.

You did not do anything on Tish ha Beaf, you would sit and fast.  The weather would be hot anyways. You don’t go in water. This habit is still in use.  We wouldn’t even go to the riverbank to sit.  That is a relief, it cannot be done on a day of mourning.

My wife tries to continue the traditions she learned from her mother and father in Edirne. Even if she is not as religious as them, what is important is that she continues the habit. She does not eat treyf, she likes applying things that are religiously required.  I pray to G-d that our children will be like that.

My older daughter Ines Romano, was born in 1964 in Istanbul, in Guzelbahce clinic. She grew up in Edirne. She finished elementary school, junior high, highschool and university in Edirne. She is a metallurgical engineer. She married Moris Aldis and has a daughter named  Doris. Aldis family is also from Edirne. She had a very happy life in Edirne. The children grew up in open air and gardens.   My younger daughter Sima is born in 1974. She was born in Istanbul too. She finished elementary school in Edirne. She attended junior high, highschool and university in Istanbul. She finished Besiktas Anadolu Lisesi. She studied sociology in Mimar Sinan University. Currently she is a teacher in Marmaris. She is married to Tansel Cetin. She has a daughter named Melis. They live in Marmaris. She is married and has a daughter.

My children had Jewish friends until they started school. It was necessary to come to Istanbul, and that is difficult after a certain age.  My younger daughter was the only Jew in her school. There was even an incident there. She entered religion class. In the religion class, her teacher told them that Jews were bad people. This happened in the first year of junior high. 
She knows my younger daughter is Jewish, of course. Of course, the next day she did not go to school. The principal of the school was a good friend. Another friend also got involved. That teacher was laid off after a while.  My daughters did not have to go to religion class, but to prevent separatism, they never refrained from going and memorized the prayers.

My older daughter likes Turkish folk dancing a lot, there were some international competitions, she even participated in them.  My younger daughter Sima also likes folk dancing, but she especially likes Israeli folk dancing. She even taught Israeli folk dancing in the Jewish highschool.

We lived in a villa type house in Edirne after we got married. We would come to Istanbul very often. We would come to Istanbul almost every weekend. When I come, I go to the movies, theatre, to meetings.  I don’t have any free time. We go to Enes and Saroz for vacations with my family.  And we also go to Antalya in the month of May.

I had a lot of trips out of the country. Mostly Greece, Bulgaria, Netherlands, England and Israel.  I went to Greece and Bulgaria alone for social activities. To Israel with my wife.

The islands seemed very far to us. Tekirdag, Sarkoy, that’s where we would go.

In our trips out of the country, the children would accompany us. There were groups of friends in Saroz.

I raised my children according to Jewish traditioins. They go to synagogue often, bat-mitzvah was not known in Edirne, therefore we did not do it. 

The nights of seder that we held when we were married were magnificent. My father would gather all of us. Because he had more knowledge than rabbis, he could read the prayers with the right tone. We were very crowded. The whole family read. Now in Istanbul, we try to apply the traditions but we are not as crowded as we were. 

His wife relates: “In my family, the relatives would gather like that, my mother would cook a lot of different foods, the kids would come, a wonderful table would be prepared. My mother was also a very orthodox, religious person. She would not touch fire on Saturdays, she would look for a person to light the stove on Saturdays, people would pass on the street, she would make them light it. The nights of Passover truly constitute memories that we cannot erase from our minds”.

My wife continues her traditional cooking at home.

My father is buried in Israel, my mother in Ulus Jewish cemetery. Kaddish was recited at the funeral.  We do the yartzheit every year on the anniversary of their death.

  My close friend from a large community Tekin Sayinbas was born in 1935, knows Jewish history more than I do and knows the Jews who live in Edirne better than I. He has books on this subject. Our friendship started before I went to the military. For 55 years we keep in touch every morning either with phone or other means. He is my beloved friend. He loves Jews a lot. He even has books about this subject.

There is one more person but I cannot stay in touch with him as before. Rifat Mitrani. He lived in Edirne too.

I took positions in a lot of organisations. I carried the presidency of the elementary school after the birth of Ines. I was president for thirty years. There was a change I brought to this school  That is why they did not want me to leave he presidency. When there was no television even in homes, we were working together with the wife of the mayor Unal Erkan (he also was chief of security, and president of  Diyarbakir section management among other things) in Sehit Tahsin school. We put a television in every classroom, and we put a video in the room of the principal. Whatever the subject of the day was, the cassette would be put inthe principal’s room, that subject could be followed in every classroom at the same time. This system did not exist in Istanbul even, not just in Thrace. We entered the computer age in our school when  no school had such technology.

I started in the Rotary in 1977 to be of service and I am still continuing to serve. I became the founder of Edirne Rotary club. We started it with 20-25 people.  When the Rotary was going to be founded in Edirne in 1977, I did not know what Rotary was.  I had an older mentor, he is a lawyer. The attorney Altinel, my dear Yasef, we will take you into the Rotary, they said. We are creating it, we will take you into the founders, he said. I said let me read about its philosophy.  Don’t read at all, he said, let’s make you a member first, you will read later. I entered without knowing, after starting it I read about its philosophy, I was really very happy. I became a secretary after it was established. I served as secretary for 13 years which can be a world record. After becoming president, I became assistant to the governor.  And I am still continuing. I have been working actively since I started.  This year, 2005-2006, I see as my “Golden Year”. I will serve not only Edirne but all of Thrace.

The biggest project in my life is establishing a center for disabled children. It was established with the name “Edirne Therapy Center for Mentally and Physically Disabled Children”.  You might say, what relationship do you have with disabled people. I am very socially active in Edirne. One day, I am sitting at work, a family came with all of its children. I am looking for Mr. Yasef, they said. “Mr. Yasef, you serve everyone, but you do not do anything for families with disabled children”. I had not thought of such a thing until that moment. “My son is disabled, but we cannot get him the care he needs in Edirne, we cannot get it in Istanbul either.  I take my child to Eskisehir every ten days and bring him back.  Would you please give a hand for disabled also?” she said. Next to me was the Textiles Central manager of the famous Bezmen group, Erdal Bey.  We came face to face and said why shouldn’t we do this job, we said.  We could do it, but with what.  That day the word disabled imprinted on our minds.  That person affected us. One day I receive a call from international Rotary. There are 25-30 young people coming from Germany who will transit through Edirne, they needed help in Kapikule. But they were a little late . I could not send them to Istanbul that day, I hosted them in Edirne.  I was very useful to them, and I did not take a penny. One of them was a governor, he asked me if I had a project from Rotary when he was leaving. “I really want to be involved in disabled people” I said.  The guy took note of it.  He visited Turkey, went to Syria, and returned to Germany.

A week, ten days later, I received a letter, “There are very big schools in Germany for the disabled” he said, “send me a team, I will host them for 15 days, I will provide you support with the help of the university, and you send your doctors here”.  We sent them a team of doctors led by Sait Erdem.  They stayed 20 days in Germany.  We made an international project, worth 20.000 dollars.  The dean of the time gave up, I will not do this job, he said.  All of our efforts were messed up, we sent the doctors to Germany.  We were completely disillusioned  I did not lose my conviction.  I had a friend in Ankara.  I called him.  I told him about the project.  I told him I found  20.000 dollars too.   “But I cannot find anyone to implement the project”, I said.  His answer was “ If you find Ihsan Dogramaci, he will take care of your business”.  Dogramaci was president of YOK(Committee for Higher Education) then,  a very good friend of his.  He finds Dogramaci at his place, tells him the situation, we will take care of it right away, he says.  He immediately calls the dean in Edirne, Ahmet Karadeniz, on the phone and says; “Dear Ahmet, I congratulate you, I heard that you are cooperating with the Rotary Club.  You embraced them, wonderful.  I am sending you a letter of commendation for the work you do, he said.  But things did not progress fast after this.  The dean provided a doctor for the clinic, we have seven patients, we cannot accept more. We don’t have money either, I started sitting at tables in mosques.  I am collecting donations for the disabled.  There, one citizen who does not know me, asks the reason.  I explained the situation.  We started a center, but it is not enough, if we find around 5 millions, then we can do something, I said. This friend gave us the five million, he was very touched when he saw me.  The Jews are collecting money in the mosque for the disabled.  We could only do excavations with this five million liras.  We could not do anything else.  He gave a place in the university of course.  He asks me what is happening.  My dear friend, you gave this money, we did the excavation, we have to wait for the rest from the government, I said.  Would you lead this job, he asked me, I accepted.  If you are going to be on top of this job, I will support you, he said. He gave 1.000.000 Swiss franks.  This is a very big amount.  With this money, we established the biggest disabled center not only of Turkey, but of the Balkans under my management, and it is still currently under my management, and it is very important for me, I am attached.  In this hospital where we started with 5 childreen, now there are 2,000 disabled children.  There are mentally challenged and physically challenged.  This is a project as big as Turkey.  I go there three to four days a week.  The approximately 15 doctors that work there work under me.  This provides me with the greatest happiness, I am so attached to these disabled, that I even built a park for them. Because the families of the disabled children are ashamed of their children. In reality it is nothing to be ashamed of but unfortunately they are.  We built a park just for them on the road to Karaagac, on a 10 acre plot, which this citizen donated again, we built a big park for the disabled children’s families.  The families come with their children, everything is free.  Now, that is my biggest happiness.  There are ceramic and art workshops inside the school.  All the rooms are spotless, the families participate in the education and everything is taught to the children including getting dressed.  There are two psychologists for these children and their families are visited too.  Our therapy is free.

Outside of the Rotary, I am involved in the disabled. When the Edirne community was crowded, we had a lot of friends, and we did a lot of activities.  The families of Kalvo and so on, all came here.  We continue our friendship here too. Now we are friends with people who came from Edirne.  We could not become part of the community of Istanbul.

Of course my wife, she goes to Dostluk yurdu on Mondays, and prepares seminars at Ulus on Thursdays, for women, she goes there.

The birth of the nation of Israel makes me very emotional. For a person to have a country is wonderful.  It gives you  a lot of confidence. However we manage here, we live with that confidence. If they did not exist maybe we would be seen in a different light.  My wife never forgets, when the six-day war4 started in Israel, the b’ris of our relative Niso was taking place at home in Edirne.  That day the war started,  we are very agitated, very scared,  very impatient, the circumcision was done, we dispersed to our homes. We all decided none of us should leave our homes. There was a panic that they might do something to us. We were the subject of a lot of discussions.  A lot of things were being said, this scared us, we were relieved when the war ended. Of course the fact that they were stable gave us a big peace of  mind.  More than a peace of mind, it is the place where we would find shelter.

One year we had the intention to do aliyah there. When we were in Edirne, before we moved to Istanbul, first my mother and father, we made our preparations that we would all go together, in the meantime my mother and father went to Israel for the wedding of their grandchild, my mother suffered a stroke, we thought that the atmosphere did not sit well with her, and we changed our minds. The government of Israel had provided my father with a furnished house to settle there. But it wasn’t meant to be.  We have friends and relatives who have gone to Israel to settle there.  We still keep in touch with them.

We were very affected by the revolts against Greeks in 1955 and 1964. My wife’s older sister was getting married then.  The wedding was going to take place, we were going to get the wedding dress that we had orderd, the owner was Greek. When we went to get the dress, we did not find any wedding dress, everything was looted. Of course we had to buy another wedding dress later.

We don’t have such a good dialogue with the community. I am on the council of  representatives. Why am I there. Edirne is a community. Their president is automatically a member of the council of representatives. Edirne is also accepted as a community, even if it is one person or five people.  I go to all the meetings. I give speeches too. But I saw that the speeches stay there. Everyone speaks up, there are some very good proposals, but nothing is done. No one was involved in the event of the Edirne synagogue.  The collapse of that synagogue made us very sad. Right now there are people in the community staying on top of it, the dean’s office in the university, and Unicef stepped in. G-d willing, something will happen this year, I am very hopeful. There is always hope.

Let me tell you about another event. There is a bazaar in Edirne called Kapalicarsi (Closed Bazaar).  That bazaar was built during the Ottomans.  The bazaar belongs entirely to the religious foundations.  This event is one we lived through three to five months ago. All of the stores belong to the foundations. The treasury examines all the foundations.  One of the stores is registered as belonging to the Edirne Jewish community. I have a very good relationship with the attorney for the Treasury. The attorney said, I discovered something; one store belongs to you as a community. You can have it reinstated from the foundations, he said. For a year now, the foundations have been renting the place out and receiving the money.  I have in my hand a certificate starting I am part of the Edirne Jewish community, I can open a lawsuit, sell the store in the name of the Jewish community and take the money.  I did not do this. I informed the Grand Rabbinate immediately, come, let’s take care of this, I said.  They send a lawyer to Edirne, open the lawsuit. The foundations say, you leave, we will pay you 180 billion liras.  There are some snags that arise, I become part of the talks.  The affair is concluded, the money arrives to Istanbul to the Grand Rabbinate. I discovered this, I informed you, can’t you even say thank you?  But when problems arise, the lawyer can call me at nights, I am the one who brought this to light, I don’t want anything.  But our Jewish community never, until they conclude their business, pashaiko, when the business is taken care of, the friendship is also done.  That is why I am a bit distanced from and offended by the community.

There is a synagogue in Edirne, it is demolished, I told the Grand Rabbinate, I am the only Jew left in Edirne, I am not able to do much of anything.  I gave the mayor’s office an ultimatum and I said you cannot touch this place as long as I am alive.  This is my legal right.  I told the Rabbinate in order to save it.  We cannot do it, they said.  This temple is a historical building.  Then I found a friend of mine who is a dean in the university.  The dean says o.k., we went and talked to the foundations, we turned it over to the university, I will do it, he said.  But the dean got scared, when there are so many  mosques, if they say the university is doing this, it would reflect negatively on me.  But let’s say the repair costs 100 liras, I will provide 99 liras, have your community pay the other one lira.  Let’s say the university and Jewish community are working hand in hand.  It might work if they say this is how it happened.  I went ahead and brought the great dean to Istanbul. The Grand Rabbi was Asseo then.  Of course he did not participate in the meetings, he had lawyers. The dean explains, I will have this synagogue built for Yasef’s sake, he says.  Do you know what the people there  answered?  “Do not ask for money from us, use our opinions and advice”.  The dean said, this, I have, I have the money too, I can build one hundred percent of it, but public opinion is important.  An event was done in Istanbul for the synagogue.  To fundraise, the people in Edirne came by buses, so money could be collected and used. But when nothing came from the community, it didn’t happen. In the end the building collapsed. I can never forget the day that building collapsed, how I was distressed.  In our community they only ask for money. No one took charge. They could have asked for a little support from outside.  So that at least the synagogue could stand erect.

I am in the council of representatives, once a month, or once every 15 days, a letter comes so we will participate in the meetings. The council of representatives meet at some places.  Once at Or-ahayim10, once in the building of the Grand Rabbinate, another time at Barinyurt. We would be approximately 50 – 100 people. Most of the times it was presided by Naim Guleryuz.  Whoever wanted to speak spoke.  I got up, talked about assimilation, come let’s tackle this problem together, I said.  What more can we do for these people, we form associations, we will work at it, they say, nothing comes of it.  Three months later, five months later, records are kept, nothing happens.

I gave a conference only at the council of representatives.

I wanted to take part in a social program voluntarily, I wanted to work together too. They called me, I gave a speech.  Two or three years ago there was Ida Ben Romano, “Yasef you are an expert on the subject of the disabled,  in this Jewish community of ours, there is no place for the disabled”.  They wanted a conference from me. A school serving 2,000 people opened in a place like Edirne.  I did not spend a penny out of my pocket.  Our Turkish friends are very emotional about this.  When I say I want to do something like this, a disabled children center opened in Edirne that is not only one of the few in Turkey but one of the few in the world. There are 2.000 disabled children.  I am the administrator, the founder, there are 30-40 doctors working there.  They are all under me.  I didn’t know this business either, but I worked there voluntarily.  Come. Let’s do something similar for the Istanbul Jewish community, I said.  We also have very emotional people.  Let’s start with one lira, I said. There are disabled children among us too. The families are ashamed, they don’t take them out.  I wanted to work, Ida Benromano encouraged me in this, she helped me.  A lot of people came, listened, it did not happen.

Here once a month, once every two weeks and during the holidays I go to Ortakoy synagogue, and once in a while to Sisli synagogue.

I do not use the internet and e-mailing to communicate with my family much, my secretary uses it.  My computer is on 18 hours.  150-200 e-mails come daily, and as much are sent.

I am very loyal to the Jewish religion, but I do not advertise it.  My life cannot consist only with Jews.  Because I am in Edirne.  I even educate my children continually about religion.  Religion bonds us.  If we are loyal to it, everything turns out better. I am as loyal as I can be. My wife is more religious than I am. She follows all the holidays, everything.  But I do not pressure my grandchildren to own their religion.

My grandchildren go to the Jewish school and will graduate from there. They take part in all the activities.

When I come to Istanbul for the weekends, the friends who came from Edirne get together as a group, we eat our meal.  We learn our ideas about the community.  I put out this struggle so the Jewish community can be more active. I put them under pressure.  I have a very good group of friends.

I do not get involved in politics. Cem Boyner had formed a party.  He offered me to form his party’s Thrace section. I did not accept this.  He was going to give me all the responsibility for Thrace. I was the president of Rotary. Rotary is always on a higher level. Of course he wanted support from me as a Rotarian to increase his financial power. I did not accept it.  Only, I have a point of view, for a rich person and a poor person to be equal.  For a poor person to get the same care and to live as a rich person does.  You might say, he has money, the other doesn’t, but I believe in supporting the poor.  I think I lean towards the left a little with that point of view.  I live a regular life, but the poor person there cannot, my conscience bothers me.  That is why there are differences of class all the time unfortunately.

We were very upset with the bombing of Neve Shalom in 198611 and in November of 200312, we got calls from our Turkish friends, they all conveyed their condolences. Everyone was in a panic. Our Turkish friends were as affected as we were.

I talk Turkish with my wife ninetyfive percent of the time, and Spanish the rest of the time, I use the Turkish language with my friends and children all the time.

Your philosophy in life:  I formed my life philosophy based on three words and think the same way since 1975.  Love, I approach everything with love.  I do not get angry at anyone, I face everything with tolerance. That is to say, I based my life on love, tolerance and a happy demeanor.  I continue on these three principles.  Believe me, even if someone curses at me, I will face it with tolerance, I will face it with a happy demeanor.  I would open my hand and help someone who slaps me. These three words constitute my life philosophy.


GLOSSARY

1 Matan Baseter Bikur Holim:  Literally ‘Secret Help Care for the Sick’; a Turkish Jewish community institution that looks for the needy in the community and helps them. It supports children in school and health related issues, sends needy families all necessities for the Jewish holidays, and looks after the sick. All expenses are met by donations and sponsorships inside the Turkish Jewish community.

REBI REBEKA EVGIN
Istanbul
Turkey
Date of Interview: May 2006
Interviewer: Feride Petilon

I am here with a loving mother who harmonizes the warmth of the Mediterranean with the Jewish personality: Rebi Rebeka Evgin.  She shared with us her childhood years that were spent in  Adana, her close relationships with her family, the hope and the despair of the war years, her marriages.  My job is to relate this to you and to enable this beautiful story to pass down generations.  Rebi Evgin is of medium height, with chestnut colored  hair, a woman considered petite.  The traces of the life she lived are evident in the wrinkles on her face. In reality these wrinkles have been diminished with the aesthetic procedures of the modern times. It is evident that she takes care of herself.  Her home reflects all the criteria of an organized and neat housewife. She lives with her daughter Sara and grandchild Yoni.  In her classically styled home, handmade rugs and ornaments stand out.  The habit of never offering coffee alone is part of this family too.  Rebi Evgin never forgets the difficulties she endured during her lifetime, yet she disperses the pessimistic feelings created by these, with her own willpower and spends her life with her friends, her children and her relatives.  

Family background    

Growing Up   

During the War     

After the War

Glossary

Family background                                   

In Fiddler on the Roof, the heroes ask each other “Why do Jews wear hats all the time?”, and the answer, just as we all know, is, “Because Jews are always ready to migrate”.  As in one of George Moustaki’s songs, “Le Juif Errant” (The Wandering Jew) has become the fate of the Jews.  And when I think about my ancestors, we see that my roots extend to Urmi.  Urmi is a town between Russia and Armenia.

My paternal grandfather Avram Babakardash was born in Urmi around 1870.  He lived in Iran, in Van Bashkale, in Konya, in Halep [last three are cities in eastern, central and southeastern Anatolia respectively], and in Damascus.  I don’t have much information about him but I know he was quite religious and that he spoke in Georgian.  They dealt with livestock.  A lot of his family members died during World War I.  My grandfather married Cevahir Babaoglu after losing his first wife.

My paternal grandmother, Cevahir Babaoglu, was a woman who lived in Russia, and who had escaped the Bolshevik Revolution 1.  She would poke her eyes with needles when she saw the picture of Stalin in the newspapers.  Cevahir Babaoglu was an obese woman who wore the garments that were in fashion in those days.  Her clothing was always dark-colored.  When she sat at the edge of the table, the table would disappear under her weight.  I am guessing that inactivity in her last years was the cause of her condition.  She never uncovered her head, she wrapped a scarf around it.  Even though her husband was Avram Babakardash, her last name was Babaoglu.  This situation was actually  prevalent in those years.  Even siblings from the same mother and father would be remembered with different last names.  Since there was no surname law 2 during those years, the last names that were acquired later on were changed at will.

Cevahir Babaoglu worked at the market in an era when ladies never worked.  She sold socks and handkerchiefs in the market.  Since she had suffered through a lot of poverty in Russia, she was used to working.  It was a second marriage for Cevahir also, with my grandfather.  She had two children from her first marriage, she had lost her first husband.  But there is no information about him.  A lot of people called her “Mr. Cevahir”.  You needed courage to go to markets to sell merchandise.

When I came to Istanbul, I went to her house.  She lived in Kuledibi [A neighborhood in Istanbul.  The surrounding area of Galata Tower was known as Kuledibi.  This area was densely populated by Jews.  Even all the merchants around were Jewish.  Galata Tower was built by Genoveans.  It is one of the important touristic spots of Istanbul today.  There are small restaurants in the narrow streets around Galata Tower.  The Neve Shalom Synagogue 3 is in this area too].  This was a large house with 5 rooms and a living room.  Old-fashioned sofas and mirrors decorated the livingroom.  There was a large section they called “hamam” [Turkish bath] in the house too.  Laundry would be washed in this section in large pots.  Food was kept in wire closets [there would be a closet in a cool part of the house in an era when there were no refrigerators.  It was called a wire closet because the door was made of wire].  The house was heated by stove.  She prepared a meal made with garbanzo beans called “abushifte”.  You added potatoes, meat and onions to this meal.

Cevahir Babaoglu was a pleasant, cordial woman who liked to converse and to give advice.  She suffered through a lot of poverty in Russia.  She worked at anything she found there.  After my grandfather died, when she was left alone, she thought commercial life would be more active in Istanbul, and followed the family Pur who were her relatives to come to this city.  When I went to visit her with my daughter, she would make cloth dolls for my daughter.  She was a very creative woman when you consider the conditions of those days.  I have no information about Miriam who was the real mother of my father.

The livelihood of this family who was constantly migrating was earned from different jobs all the time.  Selling dry goods and notions and dealing in livestock were the prominent careers.

I have no information about the mother and father of my mother.  Her father was called Daniel Nuriyeller, her mother Simbul.  My mother’s father married twice too.  There is no information about his first marriage.  Those are war years, unknown ailments [there were no antibiotics then, high fevers would cause deaths], epidemics [flu, typhus, cholera epidemics] would cause deaths at young ages.  Georgian would be spoken in this family too, and religious rules were deemed very important.

My father Yasef Babakardash was a radiant faced, saintly person.  Medicine had not evolved much then. There were no doctors either.  There was the problem of malaria in Adana [a city on the southern coast of Turkey, overlooking the Mediterranean].  Neighbors would come and look for cures for their sons who were feverish.  My father would write their names with a pencil or an inkpen somewhere, tie knots on ropes and pray something.  And he would put those ropes on the arms of those children like bracelets. The kids would get better and the neighbors would be happy.  He had a long thick moustache, he wore fez’s at first, then felt hats.  A black suit and tie were never missing.  He dealt in dry goods and notions, he was the owner of a large fabric store.  My father was very religious.  He would not go out to the street in the mornings without donning his tefillin.  My father was a very pleasant and honest person.  He was a good spouse.

My mother was an authoritarian mother.  Because there was a large difference in age between them, whatever my mother said, was done.  My father did all the shopping.  My mother did not even know how to buy bread.  When my father died, my mother would give me the baskets, I would do the shopping and bring it home.  Since I was the youngest child in the family, the whole family spoiled me.  On Saturdays or Sundays, when my father did not go to work, he would hold my hand and lead me to the park.  We would sit on the benches, I would swing on the swingsets.  When we went to the park, we looked more like grandfather and grandchild rather than father and daughter.  When people asked, he would proudly say “she is my daughter”.  But he felt sad inside, being taken for my grandfather.

My father would always come home for lunch.  He would close up the store and come home with my older brothers.  All the men came home for lunch in Adana.  Stores would be closed for lunch break.  Since distances were not long, the distance between home and work was walking distance.  My mother was a very good cook.  There were coal stoves in the kitchen.  There would be two pots of food every day.  We would eat that food for lunch and dinner.  Everyone would wait for each other for lunch, we would all gather around the table together and eat our meal.  Sometimes we would eat kebap [skewered grilled meat] and “lahmacun” [pronounced as “lahmajoon”, thin, slightly spicy meat pizza] that is famous in Adana.  But because the meat had to be kosher, my mother would give me the ground beef she prepared for the lahmacun.  I would go to the lahmacun maker, wait for the dough to be stretched, and when the lahmacuns were cooked, bring them home hot.  If my father wasn’t going to be able to come home for lunch for whatever reason, he would definitely take food to his store in a thermos.

When my father died, my mother mourned him for a long time.  She wore a black turban, and black pantyhose.  Since fabric handkerchiefs were used then, she had black bands sewn around white handkerchiefs to show she was in mourning.  She would lament after my father “who did you entrust me to, to leave me”.  My brothers wore black bands but did not allow us to wear black.  I don’t have information about my father’s first wife.  I am guessing she died from an epidemic.

My father had two brothers named Avram Babaoglu and Yakup Babaoglu.  They were born around the 1880’s.  Avram Babaoglu married a lady named Mina who had escaped from the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia. Mina went to Israel when her husband died.

Yakup Babaoglu married Shaabe and they went to Israel.  I never saw them.
  
My mother Varda Babakardash was a beautiful woman with a light complexion, medium height and brown eyes, she did not wear make-up but would dye her hair with henna.  [Henna is a kind of plant. This plant is mixed with water to make a paste and put on hair.  This mixture nourishes the hair and gives it a reddish hue.  There is also a tradition of painting hands with henna.  This is when young girls put henna on their hands before they are married and their hands become dark red.  It is a tradition mostly applied in Anatolia.  With this tradition, the family of the girl gathers together before the wedding.  Music is played, folkloric dances are performed, local outfits are worn.  Even though painting hands with henna is no longer applied today, the tradition of family and friends gathering together the night before the wedding to eat sweets and have  musical entertainment still continues.  In this way, the tradition of sending off the young girl from her home in a joyous atmosphere and enable her to have pleasant memories is given weight].  She was a woman who dressed well.  She had tailors sew her outfits.  These outfits were usually dark-colored, long-sleeved and with shoulder paddings.  There was no problem for fabrics because my father was in this business, and he always brought the best fabrics.  Sometimes foreign sample fabrics were used, sometimes domestic ones.  There were people who worked as tailors in the family.  They would sew it for my mom.

My mother never went out with her head uncovered.  In Adana, they would not look kindly on women with uncovered heads.  She wore scarves.  She was a very good housewife.  Her first husband had died in the war, too but she did not have children.  She was very fastidious about her clothing.  They had 25 years of age diffence with my father.  She was quiet and calm.  I would get the impression of a woman who had accepted her fate in my mother.

My mother had lost her first husband in the war.  My uncle Nesim Ipekel took her under his wing. When my uncle met my father and became friends with him, he found him appropriate for his niece.  He said “Look, he has two children but he is wealthy, and a very good person.  Get married, you will be comfortable”. She agreed to marry my father because of poverty, the stress of being a widow, and most importantly, not being able to contradict the words of your family elder. My father was a friend of my uncle’s family. In an era when family relationships were very strong, the families’ decisions were applied.  There was no such thing as dating then of course. You couldn’t even think about women working.  The best reference for women was being a good housewife.  My mother and father married in Iran. They had a civil marrieage but I don’t think they were married in a synagoue. They were married at home. This situation reflected on my mother’s relationship with my father in reality.  My father was both wealthy and handsome.  He had two children, but he was older in years nevetheless, and “knew the value of a woman” according to the mentality of those times.

My mother was a very clean woman, she cooked very well.  Her time was spent that way anyways. She had jewelry.  When I had measles, she would put that jewelry on me so I would not get up from bed and catch cold.  She was obliged to sell all of the jewelry in time.  In reality, even though my mother married because of pressure from her family, she demonstrated a very decisive and tough personality in her later years.  After my father died, she took my older sister and me and came to Istanbul to prevent the family from dispersing.

Avram Babaoglu, who was my father’s brother, never had children. Therefore he was very fond of me. And he wanted to adopt me. They even had a confrontation with my father about this subject.  My father had promised that if he had another daughter, he would register the child with his brother Avram Babaoglu to enable him to adopt her.  When I was born, my uncle had verbalized his wish, but my father had not warmed up to the idea.  When my father died, this time my uncle felt a debt towards me and the family in his conscience, and came to Istanbul to take us under his wing.  This way, someone from his family would get his inheritance.  His wife Mina wanted to adopt a niece from her side of the family.  During this time, it became imperative for us to move to Istanbul.  It was the beginning of World War II.  There were blackouts. My mother sold everything to pay for the move and we came to Istanbul all together.  Avram Babaoglu took us under his wing.

My aunt Mina hosted us very graciously but she wanted to adopt the daughter of her sister who had passed away. Some friction started at that point.  Yet this adoption did not take place with my getting married at a young age.  Mina could not adopt her own niece, either.  In fact, after my uncle died, Mina settled in Israel.  My mother, after marrying my older sister and me in Istanbul, went to live with her sons in Israel claiming “it is a shame to live in the house of your son-in-law”.

Israel was going through the birth pains of a country newly established.  My mother was a well-liked woman.  Her sons-in-law treated her with a lot of respect.  There were shortages and poverty in Israel during those years.  A country is getting established on one hand, it is growing economically on the other hand, and the people live concentrating on their own problems.  It saddened her that she did not receive from her daughters-in-law the close attention she had from her sons-in-law, that she could not find the relationships with her neighbors and family that she was used to in Istanbul, and that she could not speak Hebrew as much as she needed.  My mother settled in a house that the Israeli government provided for her as a result of my older brothers’ efforts and died in her own home in 1958.

My mother’s father also had a second marriage, I don’t have much information on this subject but I know that my mother had step-siblings.  One of my mother’s brothers was Nesim Ipekel; he dealt in dry goods and notions.  Of his children, Bohor died in war at a young age.  Eli married Ceni, Gabi married Beki, and Ruben married Monik.  All of these kids came to Istanbul and became successful at commerce.  Yayir Daniyelzade married a lady named Hana.  Of his children, Daniyel married Belkis Gulcan, Mois married Miryam Babakardash, Shamuel married Shaabe, Rıfat married Ester, Ester married Misha, and Matild married Zeki Basmaci.

I don’t have information about my mother’s other siblings Mordehay Basmaci and Anna.  I only know that all the siblings were involved in businesses like the commerce of fabrics and textiles.  I do not know why the last names are so mixed up.  When the surname law came out, everyone took their own last name and maybe the nicknames became last names.  I don’t have much information about this subject.

I am the fifth child of my family.   Avraam and Yakoov are the sons of my father from his first wife, they are my brothers from the same father, but different mothers.  They weren’t very happy about my mother and father getting married.  They thought that since my mother was a young woman, she would have a lot of children.  They manipulated the dry goods and notions store the way they wanted and during a period when my father was ill, they used it to further their own financial benefits.  My father sold fabrics by meters during that time, he opened up a small store and earned our living.  He did not have a fabric store any more when I was able to remember.  He had a small grocery store and earned his living from this store.  They say that Avram Babaoglu resembles my father a lot.  When I went to Israel in 1977, I saw my older brother after a lot of long years.  He had already grown old. During the years Avram Babaoglu immigrated to Israel, Israel had not even become a nation, it was under the protection of the British, it was a place of war and poverty.  Going there seemed like an adventure more or less.

Avram  Babaoglu married a lady named Matilda.  He had children named Isak, Janet, Niso, and Yosi.  Janet was a guardian in jail.  Niso was an engineer.  Isak and Yosi dealt in commerce.

Yaakov went to Beirut because the economy was better and commercial life more active.  Yaakov married a lady named Shaabe.  I never got to know him.

Among my siblings from the same mother and father, Israil Babakardash was born in Damascus in 1916.  He dealt in hardware, he migrated to Israel, he worked in a military office there.  Israil was a very smart young man.  I don’t know what would have happened if he wasn’t the son of a very enlightened mother and father.  He drew very well.  When he came to Istanbul, he would go to the Boshphorus and draw the shoreline across.  He did all my art homework from school.  He married a Turkish Jew named Pnina in Israel.  Pnina was a really beautiful woman.  She was a productive lady.  She always supported my brother by working at home.  They had children named Dalya, Yosi, Sami, and Judith.  Dalya had a beauty salon.  Judith deals in the catering business of a kibbutz.  Yosi and Sami work on computers.
 
Simon Babakardash was born in Damascus in 1925.  He left for Israel during the Wealth Tax 4.   First he learned the language in the kibbutz.  He married a lady named Margeurite that he met in the kibbutz and became a traffic cop.  He was a handsome young man.  There was no one in Tel-Aviv who did not know him.  He was always in the very front during ceremonies.  He always received support packages during the war years.  Margeurite was a smart woman.  My older brother had gone to his mother-in-law’s house as a live-in son-in-law.  He had two children named Eti and Yosi.  Eti was a make-up artist.  Yosi on the other hand had a certificate on diamonds.  He worked in the stock market.  He decided to go to the United States.  He planned on doing the same work there.  One night when he was going home with a bag full of money and diamonds, he was attacked by blacks.  He tried to resist giving the bag to the blacks but did not succeed.  The blacks killed him right there.  Yosi was newly married.  His mother Margeurite was extremely upset from this event and died a short while later.
  
Miryam was born in Damascus in 1920.  Miryam was a tailor.  She sewed for the most famous people in Adana.  She married my cousin Mois Daniyelzade.  The family objected to this marriage.  Because they were cousins with Mois, and in addition they dated.  Dating was frowned upon in those days.  When they went out, Miryam would take me with them.  She would meet Mois with the pretext of taking her sister out.  She would ask me not to mention this to my mother.  In time my mother accepted this union.  They left for Israel too, after they were married.  Miryam continued working in Israel.  Mois who was a sophisticated man on the other hand, could not find work and started working in construction.  First he settled in Hertzelia.  He started living in a small house with the opportunities that the Israeli government provided him.  Later he moved to Holon with the money he earned.  But Hertzelia became a city that bloomed.  And my older sister lost this opportunity that was given to her.  They had children named Suzan, Yosi (my father’s name), Yayir (her father-in-law’s name) and Hertzel.  Suzan and Yosi were born in Istanbul, Yayir and Hertzel in Israel.

These siblings who immigrated to Israel, started meeting up and socializing with each other.  They were together often on holidays.  Even though each one had their own lifestyle, the siblings and their spouses were very happy being together.  My uncle Simon and Miryam came to visit Bodrum this past summer.  From there, they came to Istanbul to visit with us too.

My older sister Sara was born in 1932 in Adana.  She was my biggest support after my father died.  As soon as we came to Istanbul, there was a proposition for Sara.  A young man from Samsun [a city on the shores of the Black Sea], his name was Yusuf Murat.  They had lost their mother.  Their father had remarried a lady named Mari.  Mari was from Istanbul, but went to Samsun as a bride.  Mari also gave birth to three children but she was a very good stepmother.  She never discriminated between her children and the children her husband had had with his first wife.

My uncle Avram Babaoglu was meeting up with Yakup and Mordo Murat.  Yakup was engaged to a Sephardic lady but he had rejected the engagement thinking that the wishes of this lady were excessive and that he could not live up to these wishes.  My brother-in-law Yakup had done his military service in Adana, long before this.  My father-in-law and my father were distant relatives.  My brother-in-law’s family also immigrated from Georgia but the Murat family went to Samsun.  When his son started his military service in Adana, he gave him our address.  There was a big military  branch in Adana.  Yakup Murat had come to our house to visit our family while he was doing his military service.  My older sister and I were very young then.

Meanwhile the years passed.  They had left Samsun and had started working in Tahtakale [A neighborhood in Istanbul where the heart of commerce lies.  All kinds of things are sold in this neighborhood.  A business market, especially ready-made clothing is sold in Tahtakale.  In addition, especially young men, when they finish their education, start working with a boss they call the master in Tahtakale.  Later on, they establish their own business.  They call the young who have not been educated much, graduates of Tahtakale University.  Boys would work as apprentices during the summer months to learn a trade.  But not with their father, it was more appropriate to go with a relative.  In this way, it was thought that they would adapt better to business].  On a day when they come to visit our house, Yakup Murat sees and likes my older sister.  At that time, neither my older sister nor I have any dowry [the money given when girls marry].  The Murat family is a wealthy family.

My older sister accepted her fate and married in the Sisli synagogue 5.  I had an outfit made from pink moire.  My older sister rented a wedding gown from Eliya Pardo [A place in Kuledibi where women rented wedding and engagement gowns, and men tuxes].  My older sister Sara and my brother-in-law Yakup rented a house in Sisane and started living there.  My older sister became the means for my marriage, too.  Because I married Yakup Murat’s brother Mordehay Murat.  Sisters became sisters-in-law. Sara and Yakup Murat had two sons named Yosi and Hertzel. Yosi, after finishing St. Michel French Highschool [French Catholic school] went to Belgium and attended university there.  He works in the university as a researcher and academic employee.  Hertzel on the other hand finished St. Benoit French Highschool [French Catholic school], he continues his father’s business in Istanbul.

Growing Up

I, Rebi Rebeka Evgin was born in 1934 in Adana [A city on the Mediterranean coast.  The Taurus mountain range runs parallel to the ocean in this city.  Adana  is famous for its cotton fields.  In addition it sits on the most famous valley of the Meditarrean, the Ceyhan valley.  The Seyhan and Ceyhan rivers run through Adana.  Among its most prominent architectural structures you can count the Adana Fortress, Clock Fortress, the Ulu mosque, and Stone Bridge over the Seyhan river].  Adana was a really wealthy city.  Wheat and cotton was planted.  Depending on the season, Adana would either be covered in yellow with wheat or white with cotton.  Citrus groves, vineyards and vineyard houses are like Adana’s symbols.  All of the houses had gardens.  My mother would gather the eggs from the chickens in the coop and have us drink them raw.  There was a statue of Ataturk 6 in the plaza.  The street going all the way to the station was surrounded by citrus groves.  Stores were in this area.  In the area which was called the Old Station, there was a neighborhood called Dipdil.  Darker skinned people who talked mostly Arabic lived in this area.  We called them “fellah” [peasant/ negro].  They wore baggy trousers, the tough guys among them gathered sugar canes.  Later on they would gather the sugarcanes together, tie them up and play games among themselves to break them in two.  The Jews did not have much to do with them.  Jews dealt in commerce mostly.  Our street was wide or it seemed that way to me from a child’s perspective.  The side streets were narrow.  The floors were cobblestone or dirt.  There were very, very few cars.  Transportation was mostly done by horse carriages.  Horses would poop in the streets.  We would gather the horse dung and dry it under the sun.  This was called dried horse dung.  This dried horse dung was burned in stoves afterwards.

Our house had three stories.  We rented it.  A different family resided on each floor.  We, three siblings, slept in the same room.  There was no running water, we would pull up water from the outside pumps and carry it home.  Our neighbors planted in the garden.  Laundry was done by hand and washed with rain water, and this laundry that was washed using bluing would be hung in the wind to dry.  There was no electricity in our house, we used kerosene lamps that we called night lights.

I loved reading a lot but when I was into books trying to read them with the light from these lamps at night time, my mother used to say “are you going to become a bad woman, reading and reading all the time”.  It was believed that women would become knowledgeable by reading and be more open to the outside world by that knowledge.  In short, having girls with open minds was not a desirable thing.  A very shrewd girl would not obey her family at first and then her husband.  She will become independent and then go off the correct path, it was believed.  I really loved reading novels but my mother would always turn off the night light.

In our house the floors were made of wood.  This wood was called planks.  Starting at the age of 10, mopping this wood was my chore.  The floors would be scrubbed by brush, and after the dirt was cleared, would be painted with yellow paint.  It would become bright yellow.  Our relationship with our neighbors was very good.  The biggest pastime of those days were visits to neighbors and relatives anyways.  The children would visit with them too.  It becomes very hot in Adana in summer.  We would sleep on the balconies in summer.  Our balconies on the upper floors were almost interlocking with the balconies of the house next door.  The young people in Adana never looked at us with bad intentions.  They would call us sister [“baci”-- a term used in Turkish to address people who are not siblings which indicates that they are considered as siblings], and loved us like siblings.  They even protected us in the market. Girls and boys forming relationships was frowned upon.  It was not correct to talk with not only Muslim young men, but with Jewish young men also.  

The hamams of Adana were very beautiful.  Going to the hamam was an event in itself.  We had special hamam combs, towels and clogs.  We would pick our embroidered bundles, and would go as if we were going to a picnic.  The people of Adana are dark skinned.  I, on the other hand, was as white as could be.  In the hamam, everyone would gather around me and joke to my mom “did you adopt this girl, she doesn’t look like anyone”. [In the old times, adoption is the process when children with no parents were taken in, not as servants but to be raised as the child of the house.  These children also helped with housework].  Taking a bath was another problem when we did not go to the hamam.  Water would be boiled in pots on top of coal stoves, there was a toilet in the garden.  My mother would place the pot, mix up the hot water with the cold, and bathe all her children one by one.  Later on we started bathing ourselves.
 
My mother never went to the market.  She would shop from the vendors who passed in front of our house, and my father would come home with his arms full every evening.  Plastic bags were not invented yet, shopping was done with baskets.  Buying bread from the bakery was my job.  Taking the lahmacuns [A type of thin pizza where ground beef, onions, tomatoes and peppers are spread on a thin round piece of dough, and baked.  This used to be a southern food in the old times.  Today you can find it at every corner in Istanbul] that my mother prepared with kosher beef, to the bakery was one of my chores too.  My mother would prepare sponge cake [a type of cake made with eggs, flour and sugar.  It rises because the eggs are beaten for a while, vanilla extract, mahaleb or mastic can also be added], taking it to the bakery was mine too.  When I remember my childhood days, the scent of the lahmacun and the beautiful sight of the sponge cake come to my mind.

Between my friends and me, we had childhood games like jumping rope, playing hopscotch.  The guys twirled tops. I wanted to twirl tops like boys but could not do it.  The mothers of my friends made cloth dolls.  We would draw eyes and eyebrows on these cloth dolls and play with them.  Because my older sister was a tailor, she would give us the leftover fabrics.  We would weave floor mats with those ropes.  During summer months, in order to earn my allowance, I would nail wood boards and make cases to put the oranges that our neighbor gathered from the citrus groves.  Tomatoes or peppers were also placed in those cases.  I would wrap candy in papers (Grocers would wrap candy in a thin paper before selling it.  This way, it would prevent the candies from sticking to each other).  Again during the summer months, I would go to my older sister, and do overcasting [a simple sewing technique to prevent the unraveling of fabrics].  In this way I earned my allowance.

My school years were colorful.  All the holidays were celebrated in our school.  We would wear black uniforms with white collars, and take part in parades.  We would get in line according to height.  Turkish Independence day on October 29th 7, National Independence Day and Children’s Day on April 23rd (The anniversary of the establishment of the Turkish Parliament by Ataturk. Ataturk gifted this holiday to the kids, and created the first children’s day in the world in this way) would be celebrated with exuberance.  The love of Ataturk had been instilled in all of us.  We had very innocent relationships with our friends.  We would go to each other’s houses.  We would kiss the hands of our elders and our teachers on religious holidays.

During the War

One day I was at a friend’s house.  My friend took me to a room.  The room was full of sesame seeds.  She said that her father sold sesame seeds.  A room full of sesame seeds, it was a sight I had never seen before.  When I was finishing elementary school, we had a teacher named Mr. Ata.  I loved him a lot.  When I was going to take my final (for a while, in order to graduate from elementary school, you had to take the final for each subject separately.  The teachers would evaluate the students and give the diploma accordingly), Mr. Ata said to the other teachers: “Rebeka has a very pretty voice.  Let’s have her sing us a song”.  I was very embarrassed, my grades were very good.  I was not afraid at all, but I turned red.  I sang the folk song “Do birds land on the telegraph wires” (it is a very famous folk song).  All the teachers clapped and they did not ask me another question.   My involvement with music did not go further than being a good listener.  If I had grown up in Istanbul, rather than in the conditions of Adana, I would definitely be a student of conservatory.

Yet I could not find the same tolerance level from every teacher as I found with Mr. Ata who loved me, at the finals for elementary school.  One of our teachers often asked this question: “Tell me Rebeka, how many churches and temples are there in Adana?”.  And I always blushed even though I was not embarrassed while answering this question that was asked so unabashedly.  “There is one church in Adana.  There is one synagogue in Adana, my teacher”.  She would be content with the answer, and ask me the same question a couple of days later as if there would be some new development.  The children on the other hand would ask a question like “how many feet does the cat have?”  I have not grasped the meaning or the answer to this question even today.   I was only able to attend elementary school in Adana.   I was not able to continue my education after we came to Istanbul.  If it were possible, I would have liked to attend the conservatory.  I would have liked to develop my musical talents.

There were no opportunities to swim in Adana.  Adana is not a city bordering the sea.  You could only swim in the Seyhan river.  But you had to know how to swim very well to be able to go into the river in the environment we were in.  Frankly, swimming in the river was not looked upon in a positive manner. To swim in the sea, we would go to Mersin [A city bordering the Mediterranean.  It is famous for its citrus groves] in the summer months. 

After the War

In 1956, the Seyhan Dam was opened on the Seyhan river.  Life in Adana was revived by the opening of the dam.  I remember the opening ceremony of the dam very well.  Foreign guests had arrived.  And they had put on a ceremony with a lot of hoopla.  We used to go on picnics next to the dam.  We would prepare everything at home because the rules of kashrut were meticulously observed.  Outings to the dam were an important type of entertainment for the people of Adana.  Miryam Zade’s spouse liked me a lot, they would take me everywhere they went.  There were public houses [It was an organization operated by the Education Ministry and the municipalities to ensure the wide acceptance of Ataturk’s principles and revolutions.  Its goal was to organize cultural events, and to elevate the public’s cultural level], Turkish style casinos [restaurants with Turkish style music played].  They would take me to such places.

The Sephardic Jews and the Georgian Jews lived together in Adana.  Georgian Jews were weaker culturally than Sephardic Jews.  Georgian Jews spoke Georgian amongs themselves without fail.  My father used to go to the synagogue on Saturday mornings.  The synagogue was a rented house that had been converted to a synagogue anyways.  There would be extensive work for the holiday of Passover.  Coffee beans would be boiled, dried up and ground in a special way.  Rice would be rinsed, dried, and filled in bags.  Since there was no matzoh, bread would be baked with yeastless flour and salt, and that bread would be eaten throughout those 8 days.  My mother would make orange marmelade at home and it would be offered to guests on silver trays along with water.  There were no chocolate or other types of candy then.  It was a tradition to offer sweets like this.  During one Passover, one of our Muslim neighbors came to visit us.  They did not grasp that they had to use a spoon to eat the jam my mother was offering this way.  They started eating it from the bowl.  After a few spoonfuls, they apologized saying they couldn’t finish the bowl.  This practice is quite special.

My uncle would translate the Passover Hagadah into Georgian after reading it, so that the children could understand it.  The Hagadah was in Hebrew.  My uncle would translate the Hagadah that was in Hebrew instantly, to enable us to understand.  In this way, we comprehended Passover.  White candy [made with sugar.  Mastic, oranges, milkfat, almonds could be added to it.  This candy that needs to be mixed with a wooden spoon after bringing to a boil, is quite difficult to make], charoset, and homemade wine were specialities of Passover.  On the second night of Passover, we would drink a special soup with rice [recipe at the end of the interview].

We would not eat the dried fruit distributed during Purim right away.  We would put those dried fruit under our pillows, and sleep like that till the morning.  There was poverty and shortages.  This dried fruit that was offered to us, seemed like a blessing.  From a child’s perspective, we ate them slowly so we would not run out.  We even put them under our pillows to protect them.  There wasn’t the abundance of today.  Those bags were like blessings for us.  Candy, dried fruit were not stuff that was bought usually.  My mother would rinse the seeds of a watermelon, salt them, dry them up in the sun, and then bake them, and we would munch on them with a lot of pleasure.  In Adana, where holidays were celebrated in the true sense of holidays, relationships between friends were as strong as family.

There was no synagogue in Adana, a house had been converted into a synagogue.   This was a rental house.  And a lot of effort had been put into converting it into a synagogue.  This house did not belong to a Jew.  Jews were not able to own a lot of real estate then.  A lot of them were foreign nationals anyways, and legally foreigners could not own real estate.  The community was connected to each other in Adana.  The president was Gaston Mizrahi.  Gaston Mizrahi had spent a lot of effort to convert this house into a synagogue.  And they would invite us to their home on Passover evenings.  The Mizrahi family was a wealthy family.  They had an optical business.  The Mizrahi family had four sons named Isak, Moiz, Albert and Metin.  These children also worked for the Jewish community in Adana.

My father was sick during the Wealth Tax.  He was in bed.  The only thing I remember was his bronze bedframe.  And he was in no shape to pay the tax that was demanded of him.  When the officers came, they registered that bronze bedframe among the furnishings that could be taken.  My siblings were around 16-17 years old.  They were doing odd jobs.  They did not demand a high tax from my oldest brother.  But the younger one suffered quite a bit.  My oldest brother was working with a hardware store owner named Salamon Benyesh, and they took on this tax.

The younger one of my older brothers, Simon was a somewhat lazy young man, he was very smart but used to act lazy.  He would fill small bags with lemon salt and sell them.  He appeared like a merchant and got his share of the 
Wealth Tax.  My older brother came home one evening, he looked quite worried.  My mother gave money and underwear to my older brother Simon.  When we heard from him the next day, he had crossed the border already.  With the help of a prison guard on the road, he went to Damascus, and later to Israel.  He attended the police academy in Israel, he improved himself, overcame his laziness like this; the officer education changed the course of his life.

When the events of the Second World War broke out, we were all scared.  Our friends in Adana took us under their wings, and said nothing would happen.  My stepbrother who lived in Istanbul came to Adana to check on us.  The rumor that there were even ovens being prepared in Istanbul [referring to the gas chambers used to kill Jews during World War II due to Hitler’s politics, mentioned by the Jews living around Balat] struck terror in our hearts.  During those days, our elders who were policitically savvy said “Don’t be afraid, Ismet Pasha 8 is going to get out of this with the minimum amount of damage”.  Truthfully, Turkish Jews were spared the horrors of the second World War with the attitude of Ismet Pasha.

We were very happy when we heard about the establishment of Israel.  We listened to the news on the radio.  It was a happy event for us.

Adana Jews were not affected much by the policy of “Citizen, speak Turkish”. 9  Turkish was always spoken anyways.  Even though we spoke in Georgian between ourselves from time to time, we always spoke Turkish on the street.

My father did  not live long after that.  When he passed away, I was in middle school.  My older sister Sara was in the institute.  My stepbrother Avram Babaoglu took us under his wing and told us that it was imperative for us to come to Istanbul.  The year is 1949, I am 14 years old, I left Adana with my mother and my older sister Sara, ending an era, and moving towards a new adventure.  It was time for me to say goodbye to beautiful Adana where I spent my childhood years and my youth.
     
We boarded the train in Adana.  It was midnight.  My mother had thought of making big quantities of citrus, orange and pumpkin jams, and tomato and pepper sauces, and bring them to Istanbul.  I settled on the window seat and watched the road in awe.  First we came to Eskishehir [a city in central Anatolia].  My mother had prepared some stuff to eat.  We took them out in the compartment.  We put it between bread slices and ate.  In the morning we arrived to Istanbul.  It is December of 1949, there is knee-high snow on the ground, and it is snowing in big flakes, and I am seeing snow for the first time in my life.  I am imagining Topkapi Palace, Dolmabahce Palace [touristic spots in Istanbul, the former being the residence of the sultans, and the latter the residence of the first president of Turkey, Ataturk] in my mind.  I am very excited because I will get to see Istanbul. 

Haydarpasa [The last station in Istanbul for all the trains coming from Anatolia.  It is both a train station and a dock for boats.  You can cross from the European side to the Asian side with the boats taking off from there.  In this regard, Haydarpasa is where Istanbul’s heart beats.  Both the dock and the station are like historical treasures] seemed big and magnificent to me.  We disembarked from the train, and boarded a boat.  I did not understand what the boat was.  I thought we had arrived home.  First we came to Karakoy [a neighborhood on the shores of the opening of the Bosphorus to Marmara sea], then we took a taxi and came home.   It was the first time for me in a taxi then.  Istanbul was empty then, there were no houses on its hills.  There was no trace of the crowds of now.

We started living with my uncle but we absolutely need money.  My uncle took me to Karakoy every day. I learned handywork there.  After a while, my uncle started frowning upon my going to work.  I was an attractive girl even though I was young. There could be people hitting on me during the commute from home to workplace, in those conditions.  It wasn’t easily acceptable for a girl to go and come from work. Just like the mentality that the books I read would be detrimental to me, going to work was considered a potential to change my mindset.

This time, a machine was bought for the house.  They bring the merchandise home every day, I sew it and send it back.  They bring rolls of fabric home.  
They pick it up sewn in the evening.  I had to help with the family budget.  In the meantime I was dreaming of going to Israel.  I was only 15 years old.  I started corresponding with my older brother.  I was torn between my mother, my older sister, and going to Israel, I was constantly crying.  My uncle told me that my older brother was telling me to stay there in his letter.  I was devastated, was my older brother giving up on me?  While all these developments were happening, my brother-in-law’s brother Mordehay Murat asked for my hand.  Mordehay Murat was a prospect approved by the family.  For what it’s worth, the older brother had married my older sister Sara.  I would get to preserve the family ties by agreeing to this marriage, and my mother was going to stay with us.

Mordehay Murat was a handsome young man.  He was respectful.  Even though later he seemed to be an authoritative father in his relations with his children, he doted on them.  His philosphy in life was honesty and living with your principles.  He paid a lot of importance to his children’s education.  He wanted his son to obtain a career and his daughter to study in a foreign school no matter what.  When we started this marriage, when I took the first step by getting engaged, I had a condition, we would move into my older sister’s house too when we got engaged.

A house with the back rooms overlooking Halic [the Golden Horn], linoleum floors and no bathroom.  Husband and wife, my mother, myself and my fiance, we started living together.  This time, a machine belonging to the workplace of my fiance came home.  There were handkerchiefs that were sold in Anatolia then.  You would sew the edges of those handkerchiefs.  This stitch was called “bibila” [Judeo Spanish term].  Every day a roll of cut fabric would come and I would stitch the edges.

We were happy, we were truly very happy.  6 months after the engagement, we had the civil marriage, we were living in the same house with my fiance nonetheless, it seemed more proper to us to be civilly married.  I still have no dowry.  One morning my fiance got up and took me to the market.  We bought black fabric for a coat, green fabric for a coat, black for a dress, green for a dress, blue silk fabric for a nightgown and a nightdress, bed jacket and a lot of other necessities.  My fiance paid for all of it and he said to me “this is the payment for a year’s worth of work, you worked and you earned it and you bought it”.

I was really very happy.  We gave my nightdresses and nightgown to Sara, the embroidery expert.  Nightgowns and nightdresses were an important part of the dowry because brides greeted the family members coming to visit on Sabbath mornings with a nightdress, nightgown and bed jacket.  We married in Sisli synagogue too.  My wedding gown was rented from Eliya Pardo, too.  The only difference with my older sister was that I left the house of a relative as the bride [according to tradition a bride cannot return to the house she left in a wedding gown, this is not considered lucky, if she is returning to her own home, she leaves another house as a bride].  We did not have the luxury of having an evening reception. 

In this way, two sisters, we became sisters-in-law.  According to Georgian traditions, a bride’s virginity is important.  The mother of the girl waits through the night and without fail sees the bloodied sheets.  She takes those sheets  home, and offers stuffed grape leaves with yoghurt and sweets made with walnuts to the family [recipes at the end of the interview].  The mother-in-law is called, this is called “yuzgorumlulugu” [a present given by the bridegroom to his bride when he has unveiled her for the first time and seen her face].  Offering stuffed grape leaves with yoghurt means we delivered our daughter pure.  Even though we lived in the same house with my fiance, and even though we had the civil marriage quite a while before the wedding, my mother waited at the door of the bedroom till the morning.  And I gave her the sheets.  She wanted to see it because we lived in the same house.  She wanted to prove that even though we were married civilly, my husband and I did not have a sexual relationship before the wedding.  My husband was so respectful that I don’t remember him holding my hand once while my mother was present.  
  
The other siblings of my husband, Efraim Murat married Luisa Sirinyildiz.   They dealt in hardware in Samsun [a city on the northern coast of Turkey, bordering the Black Sea].  They had two children named Samuel and Sara.  My older sister Sara and Yakup had two children named Yosi and Hertzel.  Yosi is a professor of chemistry in Belgium.  Herzel continued the family tradition by dealing in commerce of ready-made clothing.  Avram Murat married the sister of his older brother’s wife.  In this way two sisters became sisters-in-law again in the family.  Luisa Sirinyildiz and Viktorya Sirinyildiz became wives to two brothers.  Viktorya Murat currently lives in Israel.  She had children named Kamer, David and Meri.  Isak Murat married a lady named Nina.  They live in Israel; they have children named Sami and Viktor.

I had two children named Sara and Sami.  There is 18 months’ difference between them.  They were two very cute kids.  Sara’s grades were always very good.  She first attended St. Pulcherie, and then Notre Dame de Sion [French Catholic schools].  She got engaged when she was a senior in highschool.

Our happiness was sealed with the birth of Sami.  His circumcision was done in the French Hospital.  Cake and lemonade, chocolates and mint liquor was offered at circumcisions then.  I was resting in my bed with the nightgown that Sara the embroiderer had prepared.  Sami’s bar-mitzvah lacked luster.  Father and son went to the temple and put on tefillim, then there was a brunch.  My son finished St. Benoit Highschool [French Catholic school].  He graduated from the electrical engineering department in the university.  He worked in Netas, a big firm, for long years.  He retired from that firm, now he continues in commerce.

My life was spent at home, working and raising children.  My husband was an extremely good person.  We used to go to the movies, to the theatres, to musical entertainments.  We used to buy bulk tickets [tickets bought at the  beginning of the season, for movies playing at a certain time and certain day in a movie theatre throughout the year].  We used to dress in our best clothes to go to the movies.  On musical nights, we would watch artists like Perihan Altindag Sozeri, Adnan Senses [Turkish Classical Music performers].  It was a privelege to go to the matinees in Maksim Casino [the most famous casino of the times].  The matinees were for ladies only on Wednesdays, and ladies and gentlemen on Sundays.  Women’s matinees were a complete chaos.  Food would be prepared at home, the artists would perform different routines.  We used to go to Cinarcik [a vacation area close to Istanbul] in summers.  The sea was clear blue.  We had fun with our friends.  The men came only for the weekends.

We were living in Sishane during the events of 6-7 September events 10.  We had Greek neighbors.  Our doorman wrapped himself up in the Turkish flag, and said “if you enter through this door, you trample the flag”.  Our house was saved from looters in this way.  The scene in Beyoglu was horrendous.  The cakes and chocolates of the pastry shops were all over the streets.  The thought “we weren’t able to afford them, you don’t eat them too”  was prevalent.  The furs, jewelry on the ground, people desolate.  It was said that this event happened because of a few looters.  The government defended itself like that.
 
After 15 years of marriage, my husband first had kidney stone surgery, he had surgery in a private hospital.  After about a month, he had chest pains one night.  We called the doctor, medicine was not as advanced then.  He was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  Bypass procedure was not developed much in the 70’s.  When we were married, my older sister, my brother-in-law, my mother, myself and my husband lived in the same house.  When the children were born, we couldn’t fit in one house any more.  My husband and I first moved to Taksim [a neighborhood in central Istanbul].  Mostly people who came to work from the United States lived in Taksim, Kazanci Hill.  I was very young.  My husband’s friends said “Mordo, are you crazy?  How can you live here, they will hit on your wife.  You will have no peace”.  So we moved to Kurtulus, a short while later.  I would wait my husband’s arrival on the hill every evening, and take the bags from his hands.

One evening, after dinner, Sara went out with her fiance.  My husband wanted to lie down.  I thought he did not look well, so I called Sara back home.  When I came back from the telephone, it was over already.  I lived through a huge shock.  I really did not know what to do.  The cure for depression is in working, apparently.  I started going to work after so many years.  My brother-in-law warned me “to wear a coat over pants to go to work”.  I know that a porter accompanied me to work every morning from the boat in Karakoy, and every evening from work to the boat again.  8 years passed like this.  When my first grandchild Elsa was born, I left work.

Sara was raised quite conservatively by her father.  She was only allowed to the movies on Saturdays.  Sundays were for homework.  We used to go to Cinarcik in summers then.  The mother and father of my son-in-law, Mordo Altaras were also there.  Mordo Altaras was there too.  He was dating a girl.  The father-in-law knew my husband.  He said this to his son: “You leave that girl, and see if you can arrange to go out with the girl downstairs”.  They started going out together.  They exchanged phone numbers on our return from Cinarcik.  They had bonded, Mordo started calling continuously.  I tried to keep the peace despite the opposition of the father.  Her father did not want his daughter’s education to suffer.  She had been accepted to Notre Dame de Sion Highschool [French Catholic school] without a test because of her high grade point average at St. Pulcherie [French Catholic school].  But that year, because of Mordo’s phone calls and going out, she failed her first year of highschool.

Her Dad did not know she was dating.  If he knew, he would kill me first.  One Saturday, she came a little late.   Her father turned to me and said: “If this girl is seeing someone, I will first kill her, then myself”.  He was so rigid.  He was a very good father, a very good husband, but he was very conservative.  I acquiesced, I was raised in such an environment anyways.  But when it came to 
Sara, we had to formalize this union.  She was only 16 years old.  Her father who was at Sara’s engagement, unfortunately could not witness her wedding.  The day Sara was married was a beautiful day, my brother-in-law and older sister held the thallis.  In this way, my older sister happened to hold the thallis for me and my daughter.  I was wearing a violet-blue lace dress, navy blue shoes and purse, and a salmon colored hat at the wedding.  I was very well-dressed but everyone pitied me.  I don’t like being pitied at all.  Sara was wearing a simple wedding gown, the best part of the dress was the veil. We celebrated by having a family dinner in the evening.

My son was grown up too then.  One morning when I went to work, I left the siblings at home arguing.  The two siblings got along well usually.  That morning they started verbally arguing about an insignificant, small thing.  In reality it was a period when my nerves were really wrought.  I told my son not to be lazy.  When I returned home in the evening, I saw my son with a bundle of money in his hand.  I asked “What is this money?”.  “I started working”, he said.  He decided to become a tourist guide.  His first job was to take tourists to the Dardanelles [a city on the Aegean coast, where the Dardanelles strait connects the Marmara Sea to the Aegean.  The Dardanelles strait divides Turkey into European and Asian sides just like the Bosphorus].  The firm where he worked had given him the hotel and excursion money for the tourists.  In this way he earned his living by being a guide for a long time and continued his studies.  During this time he got engaged and broke up once.  The girl he got engaged to had different expectations about life. The discord between them ended with separation.  He married the granddaughter of my uncle Sami.

Sami’s wife’s name is Rachel. She had gone to Israel to study after finishing highschool in Adana.  She had studied to be a preschool teacher.  But she could not stay there, she missed her family too much.  My son, when he was a tourist guide was changing girlfriends frequently.  Just like captains who find a lover at every port, tourist guides return with a different girlfriend from every trip they take.  This situation worried me of course.  My uncle’s granddaughter Rachel was a beautiful girl, she had come to Istanbul from Adana, and did not  have much of a social circle.  She and my son met.  This was a type of matchmaking [proposition—families deciding first and the children marrying in a short time].  But my son went out with Rachel for a while after meeting her, they did not decide within three days like in the old times.  They got to know each other and fell in love.

They had a happy life.  Rachel could have been a working woman, preschool teacher was an ideal career for a woman.  But my son did not budge from the principle “I will not allow my wife to work” even though he was an open-minded person.  His wife became a good homemaker.

My son had a very severe cold when he was 9 years old.  He developed nephritis [kidney infection] after the cold.  I encountered a lot of difficulty for his therapy.  We went from doctor to doctor, the levels would not go down.  A Greek doctor started a new therapy.  This time the leukocytes [white blood cells—they fight the infection] went down, and the kid felt better.  In reality, this doctor took a big risk, and gave my child cortisone without letting us know.  Truthfully, if you think about the side effects of cortisone, the fact that a mother is kept in the dark about it could lead the patient to very dangerous directions.  After this event, my son had to be raised with more care.  I did everything I could until he got married.

After he was married, I did not concern myself with my son like I used to, so I would not be meddling in their lives.  All of a sudden, it was found out that one of his kidneys was not functioning.  We started going from doctor to doctor again, and it was decided that he needed dialysis.  He contracted hepatities during the dialysis.  My son was in a very bad state.  You could say he was on his deathbed.  They called me to their home and said they were going to India.  India has an abundance of donors and it is a country that is advancing technologically.  When we reached India with an ambulance, a Turkish doctor received us and took us to the barracks where the operation was going to be done.  You might find the term barracks a bit of an exaggeration.  But it was really a very dirty, primitive environment for such a surgery.  All the preparations were done, and the kidney transplant operation took place.

India is a poor country, where the destitute have trouble finding food.  The donors think they can buy a car to take tourists around or a small kiosk to prepare food to sell outdoors with the money they receive, to get on with their lives.  But the pleasant demeanor and encouragement the people provide is really outstanding.  The streets are full of people at peace with themselves.  The doctors know the techniques very well, they have been educated at top levels in the world.  The nurses do not have beds to sleep in but they are trying their best to serve.  And I gained a new life experience by staying there a long time.  Some of the things I did to support my son during that period was misunderstood by some people and they hurt me by calling me “a carefree woman”.  However, it is much better for a son to see his mother in a good mood than nervous and sulking.  My son could not understand the seriousness of his situation when he saw me with lipstick and a happy face.  I never asked but I know that the necessary financial help was provided by a campaign in the Jewish community but my son and I never discussed this face to face.

One of the biggest turning points of my life was my marriage to Erdal Evgin.  Erdal was a business major and a very decent person.  We lived in Kurtulus.  He had lost his wife too.  But he had taken a step towards remarrying, and was living with a very attractive lady named Viki.  We were friends.  Erdal went on a trip and brought me a perfume and a scarf.  My son commented immediately “mom, a man who brings perfume from a trip has different intentions”.  “Don’t be silly”, I scolded my son.  One Sunday morning, I left home and saw Erdal at the window.  When I saw him at the window again on my return, I asked “where is Viki?”.  He sighed, “We separated”.  I went up home.  A few minutes later the phone rang.  It was Erdal calling.  He said he wanted to talk to me.

We met at the corner, entered a pastry shop.  He went right to the point.  He explained that he wanted to marry me.  I was surprised, I asked him to give me some time.  When I returned home, I told my daughter Erdal’s offer. She reacted by saying “They will say that Elsa’s grandmother has married a Muslim” .  But Erdal’s family did not react like this at all.  Because Erdal’s first wife was also Jewish.  I wrote a letter to Erdal’s first wife’s sister who lived in Israel.  And I asked her permission for this marriage.  I received a positive reply right away.  I faced my daughter and convinced her by explaining the difficulties of being alone.  In this way, Erdal and I had a civil marriage ceremony.  He introduced me to his family.  We really loved each other a lot.

Erdal was a person who knew the Jewish traditions and who was very respectful.  And I respected his holidays, and the holy nights when the minarets are illuminated.  Erdal would not drink alcohol during the Ramadan.  My friends also obeyed this rule when we went to a restaurant during this period.  We had our most important memory when we bought the flat that we are living in now.  The people who sold us the flat thought I was Muslim, and Erdal Jewish.  When they saw that my name was Rebeka on the deed, they were surprised.  We only had Jewish neighbors in the building.  During Passover, Erdal would fill the trunk of the car with spinach and leeks, and distribute it to everyone.

We went to Cleveland with Erdal during a trip to the United States that we had planned and had his heart checked.  This is my fate I think; we stayed in Cleveland for 3 weeks and dealt with heart problems.   After we came back, we repeated this trip and had wonderful memories.  One morning, he put on his best suit and went to work.  He looked in the mirror. “You are very handsome, my husband”, I said.  A few hours later I received a phone call from his work place.  He was already in the hospital and there was nothing to be done.  The only thing the doctor said was “you are lucky, ma’am, if he had lived, he was definitely going to be paralyzed”.

I started living with them when my daughter Sara divorced her husband.  Elsa got married.  Yoni continues with his education.

My son’s children also continue their education.

We heard about the massacre in Neve Shalom 11 on the radio.  It is very sad that people who are in a temple only for praying are subjected to violence.  My granddaughter Elsa let us know about the attacks on November 15th 12  from abroad.  I had the same emotions again.

I lost both of my husbands, my children are my most valuable assets in my life.

I take my leave with Rebi Evgin.  Today we can only talk about the presence of a Jewish community in Istanbul or Izmir.  However, in the first half of the 20th century, there were several cities within one life story. Even though there are different traditions in each one, they all come together under one roof.  This roof is the Jewish identity.  I hope that we never lose the different tastes of these different colors.  

Georgian recipes:

GALYA SHIHNA

Ingredients: 1 kg potatoes
                    4 onions
                    ½ kg blade steak
                    2 eggs
                     Salt and pepper to taste

Fry the potatoes that have been cut in rounds in oil in pan.  Slice the onions in rounds too, and cook in oil until softened.  Salt the meat and cook it separately.  Stack one layer potatoes, one layer onions, and cooked meat on top in a pan.  Beat two eggs and pour on top.  Cook over low heat.

STUFFED GRAPE LEAVES WITH YOGHURT

Ingredients: 2 cups rice
                    dill weed
                    2 medium onions
                    mint
                    salt and pepper to taste
                    250 gr. grape leaves

Boil the grape leaves.  Slice the onions thinly and cook in oil, add rice, mint, dill weed, salt and pepper to make the filling.  The leaves are filled with this filling and rolled.  For two cups rice, you put 4 cups water to cook.  While serving, you pour yoghurt beaten with a little garlic and sizzling melted butter on the plates.

BORCH

Ingredients:  Beef broth or bone marrow broth
                     Cabbage
                     Lentils
                     Garbanzo beans
                     Homemade noodles
                     Salt and pepper to taste

Bring the broth to boil.  Soak the garbanzo beans the night before.  Wash the cabbage and cut it in bite size pieces.  Add to the broth and cook to prepare the soup.

SHILLECE

It is a Passover meal.

Ingredients:  Chicken broth
                     Swiss chard
                     Rice
                     Turmeric
                     Salt and pepper to taste

Bring the chicken broth to boil.  Wash the chard and cut into bite size pieces.  Add chard and rice to chicken broth.  Add salt, pepper and turmeric.

GOZLEME (THIN PANCAKE)

Ingredients: 2 eggs
                    2 cups flour
                    2/3 cups milk     
                    Slightly fermented grape juice, molasses, honey

Mix the eggs and flour with milk.  It becomes a soft dough.  Fry in oil in pan in pancake style rounds.  Add fermented grape juice, molasses or honey as desired, to eat.
 

  ZIRREDOSH

  Ingredients: 250 gr. walnuts
                      2 eggs
                      1 cup sugar
                      A knob of turmeric

Mix all ingredients to make paste.  Shape with hands to serve.   

GLOSSARY

Jak Rutli
Istanbul
Turkey
Interviewer:  Yusuf Sarhon
Date of Interview: May 2005

Jak Rutli is 86 years old, can be considered tall for his generation, has silver hair, is superior to Hollywood actors with his speaking manner and his good looks that have not lost anything with age, is a little firm-sweet in demeanor, and is an elder that I am very fond of.  He lives in Mecidiyeköy on a ground floor with his wife Ceni Rutli.  I have spent my childhood with him due to the fact that he is a friend of my parents.  This interview has provided me with the opportunity to see them again after long years and to rekindle my childhood memories.  Witnessing his humor and vigor despite his age and the illnesses resulting from his age also made me very happy.

My family background

Growing up

My wife Ceni Rutli

Family life

World War II and the Turkish Jews

Glossary

My family background

I do not know anything about my great grandparents, neither on my mother’s nor on my father’s side.  I don’t know what they did or what language they spoke.  I guess my father’s side spoke Yiddish, because my grandparents and parents spoke Yiddish.  My father spoke Russian and Arabic, too, so they might have spoken Russian too. 

My mother’s father was Sami Rozental.  His name in Yiddish was Zolmen but he was called Sami here.  He was from Romanian origins and he was very religious.  He lived 110 years and was very much respected by everyone.  According to what I was told by my mother, people would come to get his advice until his last days; in other words he was able to dole out sane advice even at the age of 110.  He was a very religious, honest and wise man.  Also as far as I know, my mother’s father emigrated to Egypt with my mother and the whole family, but that is all I know.  I don’t even know the name of my mother’s mother.  I have no information on that.

My father’s father was Yitzhak Rozental, and his roots are from Lithuania.  According to what I was told, he was born there, he lived there and he died there.  I was only 16 when my father died.  They must have lived through a lot but unfortunately I don’t know anything.  In our community [the Ashkenazi community] it was customary to name a child after a  dead person, they wouldn’t give a child the name of a person if that person was alive.  So if a grandfather is alive, the grandson is not named after him; only if he is dead.  So I got the name of my mother’s father.

They must have been working to earn a living but I have no idea what they were doing.  Maybe they were tailors.  I don’t know which languages they knew.  I think they spoke Yiddish.

I think my father’s father had a beard, I saw it once in a photo.  I don’t know in what kind of house they lived in or what kind of furniture they had.  What I do know is that my father’s father left their house in Lithuania and ran away.  Either when the Russians came or when communism came, in the 1875’s, I am not sure which, they left and ran away.  Before those years Lithuania was independent, but then the Russians came and they left.  My father went to Egypt but I don’t know if it was with his whole family or just him.  I don’t know what happened to his family.  I just know that my father went to Egypt, there he met my mother and they got married in Egypt.

My father’s mother’s name was Zelda.  My grandmother did not wear any wigs like the Orthodox ladies, she wore the clothes that were in fashion at the time.  They did wear hats though, they would never go out without a hat. 

My father told me that because the mothers were different, they had other daughters. My grandfather, my father’s father, lost his wife at a young age. She produced 2 children, my father and a sister, then she died young and he married another woman. I don’t remember the name.  And he arrived, Fritz arrived, a sister, I don’t remember the name, arrived. They all went to France, but they were cool in their relationship. The reason was probably because the mothers were different. 

We were closer with one because he was here, in Istanbul, Fritz Rozental.  He was born here, lived and died here. Fritz had two sons and one daughter.  Leon Rozenthal, Izi Rozenthal and Eni rozenthal. His wife was Klara, she was religious, she read books. She died too. Only Izi is left from his family and Leon’s son, Izel Rozental.

My mother stayed in Egypt for 10 years, they lived there, then they came here, later when my father died, and my older sister, having married a doctor, settled in Israel, she went with them and lived there.

My father was born in Lithuania. I don’t know but he probably went to highschool, he couldn’t do more because he ran away from Lithuania. My father spoke in Yiddish. He knew German and Arabic. My father spoke Yiddish in the family among themselves and their parents. They spoke in Arabic if they wanted to hide something from the children.
My father was a serious and hardworking person and a very, very good father.  He was especially very fond of his children. He was excessively fond of them. We, 5 kids, went to school at the same time. All the children attended school.  At the Saint-George school, and there was a Goldschmith school at the time. He educated all of us. He was so fond of us that, in summer we would go to the sea as a family. He would go into the sea, he would only allow us to go in until the water reached our knees, he would not allow us to go deeper, he was scared that we could drown. None of us learned how to swim because of this.  He did not allow us to eat green plums. If we drank water following that, we could get sick.

My father worked at Carlmann before he opened his own store. There was Sümerbank  in Beyoglu [the famous district in Istanbul, which used to be called Pera], a big building. That building was Carlmann’s. And 3 stories were ready-to-wear clothing. My father was a manager there. After that he opened his own store. He opened a female and male tailoring store. My father did tailoring to earn their living. My father earned well, he was a good tailor for women and men. During the war there was no sugar here, there wasn’t this or that but my father imported it from Russia in blocks. The ladies of the Pasha and his entourage brought it for him.

My father was tall. He had a bulging hat. At the time you had to pay a penny to cross Karakoy bridge [bridge across the Golden Horn]. They would stand at the ends of the bridge with coin boxes, they would charge one penny on one way and one penny on the way back. He sometimes took me too, we would cross the bridge walking. When he was paying the official, the other would say: “Can’t you see?  He is German”. That’s what he looked like, like a tall German.  He dressed well of course. Because he was a tailor, he dressed well, he did all the ironing. My father did not go into the military at first because he was a foreign national, a white Russian.  He became a Turk later on.

My mother was born in Romania. My mother went to Egypt when she was 2 years old, she must have gone to school there. My mother spoke Yiddish, she spoke German.  She knew Arabic too, she spoke Arabic with my father. I don’t know what she studied. She was married at 15.

The clothing of my mother was the modern clothing of the times. My mother was very good too, her only job was to raise the children. But she walked around with a whip in the house.  There was a pole, with leather strips on the end.  Because there were 6 boys, 2 boys in each room, the pillows would fly in the air. As if this were not enough, the 6 children of my father’s sister would also come to our house. My mother of course walked around with that whip and everyone was scared. But the house was always clean and my mother was always busy with cooking. She would cook for lunch in the morning, and for the evening in the afternoon. One meal would not be enough for both lunch and dinner. There were 8 people in the house, and Swartz, makes 9, you have to feed these.
In our family the one who went (shopping) to the bazaar was my mother, my mother did all the shopping. There weren’t any vendors or merchants that they especially bought from.

My mother and father met in Egypt, but how, I do not know.  My father had moved to Egypt, they met there and were married there. In Cairo. First my mom went there, she was 2 years old then.  She stayed there for 15 years.  Later my father came and stayed there for 10 more years. But I don’t know how they met.  Was it matchmaking, or was it not, I was not told. I only know that they were married in a synagogue in Egypt.
Our family’s financial situation wasn’t very wealthy, but it was good. He educated five children at the same time, a big house, plenty of good food, and going out, that means he earned well.

The house we lived in was big. It had 7-8 rooms. The children stayed two per room. There was no bathroom at the time. Houses with bathrooms were very rare, there weren’t any in Kuledibi.  The inside of the house isn’t like the ones today of course. There were sofas and armchairs, a china cabinet, the kitchen had a stove that worked with coal. The gas was coal gas piped into buildings then, there were no gas tubes. There were coal stoves for heating. We had continuous running water from the tabs. We did not have a garden, we lived in a flat. We had pets in the house, we had a cat, its name was Pamuk(Cotton).  It lived with us for 25 years. We did not have helpers like servants, maids, nannies, au paires or laundry women. We only had a woman who came once a week.

We always had books in our house.   My older brothers had books, magazines, for example, there was Stern. There were a few religious books but we did not read them, my father did. My parents liked reading, but my father read more.  My mother, even though she enjoyed it, did not have much time from struggling with the kids. A newspaper arrived to the house too. The French newspaper, Journal d’orient 1 would come. They did not have the habit of going to the library.

My father could be considered religious. He applied Passover, Purim, Rosh Ashana and Yom Kippur among the Jewish traditions. They observed kashrut.  Pork products, shrimp and such would not enter our house. He even had different tableware served during Passover.  There were special plates for Passover.  Also my father did not like small plates, he liked to eat in big plates. There would be holiday celebrations in the house. We would go to relatives, they would come to us. My father went to the synagogue every Friday and Saturday. My family was a member of the Jewish community. My father had active duties in the community. The tailors had built the Schneider Temple [the old tailors’ synagogue, which has now become an art gallery] at the time. Schneider means tailor. All the tailors built that synagogue and they were all members there.

My parents did not have political views, they were not involved with any party, or political, social or cultural organization.

When we lived in Kuledibi, we had Jewish neighbors. There was Cansberg, the  Deutchberg’s, there was one Matild Moskovic, she came every day to our house.  The women came. My father had friends too. There was Roustein, he was a watchmaker in Beyoglu. He was Russian too. They would go out together.

We did not go on trips much. But my father did not like to stay home.  He would go out in the evenings, on Friday and Saturdays. He even went out with so many children.

My mother stayed in Egypt for 10 years, they lived there, then they came here, later when my father died, and my older sister, having married a doctor, settled in Israel, she went with them and lived there.

My father is buried in the Jewish cemetery here, my mother’s is in Israel.
Of course there was a rabbi at the funeral, and he was buried with a religious ceremony, we recited the Kaddish. I do their yartzheits on the anniversary of their deaths. A letter comes from our community to remind us, even my older sister Zelda’s letter comes for reminder even though I did not even meet her. Our community sends out letters because we are few. 10-15 days before.

My mother’s sibling, I do not remember his name, he was a technical manager at the Rozental Bomonti beer factory.  I did not meet any other sibling, there probably was none.  This sibling had a son, Charles, and daughters, Fani and Rasel . Charles went to Buenos Aires with his father, later he went to Rio de Janerio. Fani married here with Albukrek. Rasel also married here with Jak Palombo and went to Israel.

My father’s sister was Ida. Her husband was Eliya Huves, he was a tailor too. We lived across from them in Kuledibi. They left for Israel too about 30-40 years ago.  They had 8 children, 5 boys and 3 girls.

He had one brother, Fritz. He also had siblings in France, his relationship was cool with them. I neither met them, nor do I have information about them.

We were 8 siblings. I do not know the birth year of Zelda.  When she died I was not born yet.  She died at 18 years of age.  When my mother came from Egypt, she came with 5 children. She rented a house here.  My father did not know about shopping, just like me.  My mother did it to the very end. One day my mother had to go out.  She had a neighbor who had a daughter. She said, leave,  I will take care of her.  My mother said, I will be back in 10-15 minutes, I am going to the grocer. My older sister was a baby then. Maybe one year old.  Apparently she sat her on a high stool, she fell from it, hit her head and was sick. She developed epilepsy. She would start trembling. My father and mother did not refrain from seeing every doctor.  There was no cure. She was fine then.  She was big then, she helped raise the children of all the friends. She was fine till 18 years of age, but she would be afflicted with this sickness from time to time with a doctor and she died at 18 years of age. When she died I was not born yet.

Robert, born in 1900.  When he was around 20-21 years old, there were Jews escaping Russia, most of them came here. A lot of Jews came at the time, Russians also came, even princes came, the princes of the czar and such would sell flowers in the streets. They escaped from Russia when communism came.  There was Hotel Gendermann in Kuledibi, Kücükhendek, the Russians settled there.  My older brother met a girl named Frima, Russian Jew, and he loved her very much and married. He was married in the hotel. I remember, there was music and I was 2 years old, they gave me a small chair and I played.  They left for the U.S.A. the next morning to live there.  He died there.  When he was here, he did brokerage.  He did commerce there too.  He had one son, I don’t remember the name. He divorced while he was there.

Moris Rozental, I don’t remember the date.  When his older brother left for the U.S.A. when he was 17, he said, why should I stay here, I will go to be with my older brother.  But they were not giving visas for the U.S.A. then. It was free until then.  You would buy a ticket and you would go.  He made an agreement with a man to go to U.S.A.  There were 8 more young people that this man made agreements with. They traveled by boat.  The trip probably took 15-20 days. Just when they arrived, they said you cannot go in.  He left all of them on an island there. They stayed there for 3 days, they ate bananas and so on there.  3 days later, when the checking was easier, he smuggled them into the U.S.A. illegally.  Later he went to my other older brother. He stayed there, he married there.  He had two sons, one daughter. Soli, Vili and Beti.  He stayed in New York for a while.  Later he found NewYork too noisy, he left and went to Los Angeles.  He stayed there. At one time he came here and I met Moris because I did not know him.  They came to our house in Caddebostan. With his wife and one son. 

Alberto Rozental said I will not stay here, either. I will go to Buenos Aires, to be with my uncle, he said.  Next to my mother’s brother. He went ahead and left.  I don’t know his birth date.  He registered my birth date as the 6th of May.  He stayed in Buenos Aires for 10 years then moved to Rio. He married in Rio with Bronya Rozental, he did not have children.  As far as I know, and from what my nephew in the United States tells me, he became very wealthy.  He would even tell in his letters “it is midnight, I am still working”.  He had a construction business and a factory for locks.  And he did constructions.  He worked very hard.  But when El-Al was newly founded, Motle Schneider was the first manager.  He was the best friend of my older brother Davit.  One day he left for Rio. He met with my older brother there.  On his return, he said “listen, I have seen a lot of houses but I haven’t seen one like your brother’s”.  He was that wealthy. Later on the letters ceased.  My nephew in the United States said that there was a rebellion.  The street where my older brother resided was the place for bigshots, rich people. They cleaned out everything.  I wrote to the community, I did not get any news.  His wife also did not answer.  Because they had nephews, it did not suit her, I was a brother.  She did not let me know so I would not inherit.  My nephew did not tell us anything, I think they killed him.  There was a riot against the rich, what they call a progrom in Rio. 

But when he was alive, the fourth son that is to say my fifth brother Charles who was here was dating a Catholic girl.  He was born in Egypt too.  He also said I will not stay, I will go to Rio too. He went ahead and left for Paris.  He did not have a visa for Rio. My older brother said you stay in Paris and wait, I will send you a visa.  Charles got a permit for 6 months, in the meantime, problems arose for the visa, he could not get it one way or the other.  Consequently he got engaged to a Jewish girl who was an acquaintance, he went to  the Prefecture de Police  (Police Station), saying we are engaged, we are getting married, and extended his permit for another 6 months. In this way he extended it for 3 years.  In the meantime he worked there, he did tailoring, ironing, he did commerce.  The purpose was to earn his living. 3 years later the French said you are not getting married and revoked his passport, took him to the embassy, and because he hadn’t done his military service, he became a fugitive soldier.  And they moved him out of border to Italy.  When he went to Italy, the visa for Brazil came to Paris in the end, but he couldn’t go and came back her with the police.  He disembarked  in Sirkeci with the police.   My father waited for him, gave the guy 10 bucks, and the police let him go.  He did not go to the military for 3 years. He stayed here.

Davit was born in Egypt in 1915.  He also studied here in Saint-George.  Later there was an important brokerage agent here, Davit Leon Farber, he worked there.  But then there was an even more important agent, Emu Mayer, who was one of the wealthiest in Istanbul.  This Emu Mayer was such a merchant that when he passed through  Aşirefendi with his horse-carriage, all the merchants stood up.  Because he was a good employee, he removed my brother out of his job and took him under his wing. He gave him double his salary.  It was a huge place, there were a lot of employees.  Later he also gave him his daughter. He married Berta Mayer.  He had one daughter, Nadya.  She died recently, she was in her 60’s maybe.  My older brother and his wife had previously died in Istanbul.  My brother died at 57 years of age.  He had a myocardial infarction, he died while he was on a trip to Germany. He traveled a lot.  He was here for one month, in Germany for one month, that is how his life was.  His grave is in Germany, we went to visit it previously.  The Jewish community there did not want to give him up.  The Grand Rabbi there did not want to give him up.  We talked on the phone, we will send him with cargo, we said, he did not give him up.  The Grand Rabbi was very powerful among the Jews after Hitler, the government did not get involved.  The Grand Rabbi said, according to our laws, we can only send him to Israel from here.  As you know, in our tradition, the funeral cannot wait too much, you have to bury within 24 hours.  At the time, Turkish citizens could not leave the country more than once a year. My older brother and I could not leave because our passports were not suitable.  The brother of Berta was an Italian national, we sent him to get the funeral and bring it, they did not give it up and he returned.  The Grand Rabbinate there sent pictures and this and that and placed the tombstone.  About 20 years ago we left and went to Munich and visited his gravesite.

Ida was born in 1917.  She also studied in Saint-George.  She grew up here.  Later we went to the military.  3 brothers, we were taken into the 20 military classes.2  My two older brothers and I.  They took my older brother Davit three times to the military.  We gave a petition saying my two older brothers are soldiers, I do not have a father, I take care of my mother and sister, allow me to stay till one of them comes back.  The answer arrived:  one of them is in the reserves, since it is not known when he will be released, we cannot allow it.  I did not go to the military but I was arrested in the street as a fugitive and went to the military. My mother and sister stayed alone. When they were left alone, my cousin Bernard, the one I said had made fruit leather, the son of my father’s sister, he owned a building in Kuledibi, he took in my mother and sister.  They stated there till my older brother came from the military. Later we came back too from the military, my sister was married. She married Sami Reytan.  They had one son and one daughter, they live in Israel. Hayim Reytan and Rita Reytan.  They each have two sons.  My older sister lives in a nice villa in Ramat Hasharon, only, her husband died.

Growing up
I was born on May 6th, 1919  in Kuledibi in Istanbul.  I was born on the street they called Kal de los Frankos (the synagogue of the Italians).  We lived in Kuledibi all through my childhood.

There were maybe 7-8 rooms in the house we lived in.  Stoves were used for heating and we had many stoves.  The name of our house was Kuledibi apartement.  There was the Levi apartement, Broth apartement.  There was electricity and running water.  There wasn’t a central heating system for staying warm then.

There was a hill down the street from our house. Today there is the Beyoglu hospital, before it was the British hospital.  Then there was Saint-George school and Saint-George hospital across it.  Behind it there was the Saint-George school for girls.

There was a coffeehouse around Kuledibi.  The manager there was a Jew named Menahem.  Every evening, the best known families of Kuledibi, there were the Broth’s, the Suraski’s, they would meet there with their families.  We would sit with my father and mother, my father enjoyed the suka.  We, the young children played together.  Every evening more or less.  Our neighborhood was very clean, there was everything but there wasn’t a hamam, there was one in the Persembe bazaar, one in Beyoglu, that’s where we would go.  I remember going to the hamam with my father, I was young.  My siblings would all go together, along with cousins, a lot of teasing went on.  There was a famous hamam in Sultanahmet, they would go there as a crowd and had wonderful fun.  I could not go because I was young.  The age difference was big.  I was two years old when my oldest brother got married.

My mother raised me, there was no preschool or such then, in addition, we did not have a nanny or an au paire.

I do not remember the period before school, we usually played at home.  My mother and father had close friends, the Frumkin’s and the Ruthstein’s.  We played at home with their children, child games probably.  They did not allow us to go out to the streets. I went to elementary school in Saint-George school.  This was an Austrian priests’ school.  It was with tuition.  My mother would prepare food for us for after school when we went to school, later we did our homework.  We even had a German teacher who came to tutor us, my older sister and me.  Later on, of course the siblings would come, my father would come.  There was the radio then, we would listen to the radio.  We would go to the coffeehouse in the evenings with my father after dinner.  Starting from the time of elementary school, we went to temple to take classes, together with the other children in the neighborhood, for 1-2 hours after school.  This went on till 13 years of age, after the bar-mitzvah, we quit.

When I was little, we would board the trolly with my mother, father and sister and go to Sisli. Last stop.  There we would go on a horse-carriage and go to Mecidiyekoy. At the time Mecidiyekoy was an orchard of mulberries.  You could rent a tree for 2.5 liras.  We would put a white sheet that we brought from home under it, shake the tree, the mulberies would fall and we would eat there till the evening.  There were Jewish families, Turkish families, they always came. Everywhere was an orchard of mulberries.  We would go to Altınkum again with my mother, father and sister, after Büyükdere.  There was a beach there and there were a lot of restaurants in front of the beach. We would eat in those restaurants, then swim in the sea and return in the evening.

Again when I was little, we would go to the movies on Sundays.  My father, mother, sister and I would go.  The other siblings were all much older than us.  They would go out with their friends, they were grown up.  There was Modern movie theater in Tepebasi.  There was a variety show before the movie here.  Singers would perform, there would be theatrical plays, there would be songs, short parodies.  Then the movies would start.  There would be movies like dramas, comedies, adventure movies and so on.  I have not retained any of the movies I watched in my mind.  There was Cumhuriyet casino in Tepebasi on Friday nights.  There were big stars, Turkish style and European style there.  I remember that cover charge was 11 kurus then.  Money was valuable then.  When the famous stars appeared, the red carpet would be rolled out on the floor.   I do not remember the names of the stars of the time now.

When we grew up a bit more we started going to the movies with friends. For example there was first class in the movie theaters in Beyoglu, this was 35 kurus.  We would go to the movie theater, then we would go the milk-pudding store, or there were bakeries, we would go there.  We could not spend one lira.  Sundays were spent like this.

I attended Saint-George school for junior high and highschool too after elementary school.  Among our friends in school, there were Turks, there were Jews, there were 1 or 2 Armenians, mostly there were Jews and Turks.

All my classes were fine, my favorites were math and about animas (naturekunder).  I did not have teachers that I especially loved or hated.  I had a good relationship with all the teachers.  I played basketball in school for a few months but I did not continue.  We had a teacher named Maya, he would teach us.  I took music classes in school.  I was playing harmonica then, the whole school took classes of harmonica.

I did not encounter any antisemitism from my teachers or classmates, only at the very end, when Hitler came to power.  There were no German students in our school.  There was one Armenian, Medovic.  He was the son of the owner of Tokatliyan hotel.  He was a German national,  the German flag would come out, the Nazi cross, and there would be tension.  But there were Turkish students, we got along well with them.  Later on we finished school.  After a period, our school also displayed the German flag, the swastika.  Because Austria was invaded by Hitler, that’s why.  Later on the Austrian hospital also displayed the German flag, swastika.

During school years there were girls in Kuledibi who we were friends with, they attended the Austrian girls’ highschool. There was a friend named Lora,  we would go on the balcony in their house, we would dance, and chat.  There was Caroline Markus.   She was our friend, we were together because we were from the same street.  There even was a girl, she was Chaldean, she was a pretty girl, I don’t remember her name.  One day she came to my home, rang the doorbell, my father answered.  I was not home, my father said “come in, my daughter”.  The girl said: “I love Jak a lot, but he does not love me”.  Look at the girl’s chutzpah.  My father answered “is that so, my child, I will speak to him”.  In the evening my father related this to me.  I was about 14-15 years old then, a child, as you can imagine.  My father took this event very calmly, he was a very modern man.  They even laughed about it at home with my older brother.  My father had even said “pretty girl” about her to me.  Whenever he saw a girl next to me in the street, he would remove his hat and greet her.

We would go out on Saturdays and holidays.  There was a colony of Eastern European Jews on the side of Uskudar [a district on the Anatolian side of Istanbul].  There were houses resembling a small village, you could eat and stay at houses like Polonezkoy [a village on the Anatolian side of Istanbul founded by the Polish and which therefore had the name “village of the Poles”], there even was a rabbi, but there was no synagogue there.  We stayed there for 15 days.  Sometimes we would only go for the weekends, Saturday and Sunday, and we would return.  There were always Ashkenazim there, we would go there mostly with Ashkenazim.  My older brothers would go more often.
The schools were separate.  We were separated from girls.  We could not go into their school.

My friends outside of school were Jewish.  There was also a British girl, she was not Jewish.  Her name was Eillen Castle.  There was a house belonging to the British embassy, because this girl’s father worked at the embassy, they stayed in this house.  That’s where I knew her from, we would just meet with her.  We would go out when we were free, we would go to the movies, meet with the girls every day after homework, have fun with them.  There was Benhabib in Kuledibi, Izak Benhabib, he had a very beautiful voice.  There was a tallish rock under the tower, he would sit there and sing.  There was a famous singer called Tina Rossi, he would sing her French songs.  All the girls would come out to the windows around him.  We would tease and have fun.  We had this friend, Benhabib. Peyse Levi, Yonas Kohen, Lazar Arovas and one unlucky guy who drowned in Florya, I don’t remember his name.  One day we were going to go to Moda.  He made us get out of the boat at the last minute so we could go to Florya.  So we went ahead and arrived to Florya.  The water in the beach came up to your knees.  There were a few more beaches adjacent to our beach.  He suddenly turned towards us and said “I am going to the beach next door, I have a friend that I know” and he left and did not come back.  We looked and saw it is already 4-5 p.m., we will return in the evening, he still has not come. We searched and searched and could not find him.  In the end they found him in the sea, he drowned.  But the water is up to your knees.  Someone told us that sometimes there are potholes in Florya, one appeared in front of him, he was afraid of falling down so he held on to a woman next to him.  The man next to the woman punched him for holding onto the woman, and he fainted and died, they said.  Later on the police arrived and told us to go and inform the family.  The poor guy was lost.

The Jews here had specific professions of course, usually they were all merchants.  The Suraski’s had a big store in Sultanhamam [industrial district in Istanbul], selling fabrics and ready-made clothing, the Broth’s had a big store again in Sultanhamam selling British fabrics for men and women. Then there was Inselberg, Reitz, Dr Markus, and Schnitter.  These were all merchants and 80% of the Eastern European Jews were agents, they had brokerages.

There were good families in Kuledibi. 80% of the Eastern European Jews lived in Kuledibi.  There were no Ashkenazi Jews living in places like Hasköy or Balat.  They were all at Kuledibi and Tunel.  Later they slowly left.  I was in Kuledibi until I was 16.  All my friends were from there.  There was Benhabib, there was Levi, Yonas Kohen, Lazar Arovas.  We all lived close to each other there.  There were all Jews.
I cannot say anything as far as numbers but Istanbul was close to 100,000 people but I cannot know about Kuledibi, it was crowded.  The Ashkenazim had 3 synagogues only.  An Ashkenazi synagogue at Yüksek Kaldirim (a hilly neighborhood on the European side where the Jews did commerce), Schneider Temple next to Saint-George hospital and one more behind Yüksek Kaldirim but the environment was bad, there were brothels, and it closed.

There was a rabbi, an usher, a cantor, there was everything.  There was mikveh, Talmud Torah, and Yeshiva.

There was one great rabbi, Rav Shapira.  Then there was the Ashkenazi colony.  There was the colony of Ashkenazi Jews on the other side, we would go there.  This is how we grew up.

Later when it was time for Purim, we all dressed in Purim clothing in Kuledibi.  I had one older brother. He was quite arrogant as he had studied a lot, he would become a prince.  He would go around in a horse-carriage,  the other 2 siblings would be his attendants.  He would go around the street like this in a horse-carriage.  I had another cousin, named Bernard Huves.  The son of my father’s sister, he was a jokester.  He was a hairdresser for women and men.  The wife of Inönü 3 would come to him, he was that good of a hairdresser.  But he liked jokes a lot.  One day he bought a potty for Purim, new, he washed it.  His mother made marmelade from fruit leather, he filled the potty with this marmelade, a little later he ate out of this potty with a spoon, and he made a little bit of a mess all around too.  Everyone who saw the potty thought it was something else, and he came to our house like this at Purim. He went to other houses like this too.  That’s how it was done, we had fun, there was this much freedom in the streets.

I did not encounter any kind of antisemitism when I was a child.  I remember the military parades, the independence day celebrations from my childhood.  I especially remember the 10th year.  In the 10th year, there was a crescent moon and star bulb at every window in every house.  There were 10-15 bulbs around the moon, like stars and the lights were on.  Not only at every house, almost at every floor in every window it was on.  It was like daytime.  Everyone took care of their own flat.  The crescent moon and star were sold ready and we put up the bulbs.  Then arches were placed on the streets all the way from Tepebaşı down till Karaköy, the Jewish community did it, lit by bulbs.  That night songs were sung, we had fun till the morning. Nothing like this ever happened again, it was not done. I was around 14-15 years old then.

Another event I remember was the death of Atatürk 4.  When Atatürk died in 1938, there was a ceremony in Dolmabahce Palace.  I was supposed to go somewhere in Besiktas for work, I passed by with the trolley.  As I was passing in front of it, let me get down and go too, I said.  When I was entering Dolmahçe, they said without a hat or coat, it was winter then, I did not understand it well and I thought that they would take the hat and the coat, I cannot find it again in this crowd, I thought.  I changed my mind and did not go in.  Apparently holding it in you hand was acceptable, I was mistaken.  But in the evening we went with my mother and older brother to Dolmahce.  It was very crowded and there were people who fell into the sea from the throngs.  An Ashkenazi girl fell into the sea with her mother. There were deaths. 6 people died that day from the crowds.  There were policemen on horses.  When we saw this crowd, we went back.  That is how much Atatürk was loved by everyone.  Atatürk was different, everyone loved him.
I have a few more memories involving Atatürk.  Atatürk danced with my cousin.  I had a cousin Rapaport, she was married to my cousin Charles Huves.  Charles Huves was my father’s sister’s son.  He lived in Bombay for 10 years, then came here.  He was the manager in the firm he worked and the firm had sent him to Bombay.  There was Rapaport, he was very wealthy, he imported tripps. He married his daughter. I do not remember her name.  They had a villa in Suadiye. In summer when they were in the casino of Suadiye hotel, Atatürk came from the sea by motorboat.  The wife of my cousin was a very beautiful woman. Atatürk came and asked permission from her husband to dance with her.  After the dance, Atatürk brought her to the table and thanked her.  This happened in Suadiye hotel. 

There is also a memory of  Atatürk in Park hotel.  There was lunch for 110 kurus at Park hotel every day, there were 3 courses for the meal.  Also 5 musicians, they were Ashkenazi and without passports.  These were the ones who escaped from Poland and Russia.  When Atatürk came to Istanbul, he used to eat there and enjoyed the music. These people  played classical music.  Every time Atatürk came to Istanbul, he came here.  In the meantime a law was passed.  Only Turkish citizens would be able to work in jobs like musicians and waiters.  Consequently they let these musicians go, because they were all foreign. Atatürk came and sat down to eat and asked where the musicians were.  They told him these were not Turks, so they could not work there. Atatürk  was angry, “what do you mean they cannot work, find them at their homes and bring them here one by one”, he said.  They brought all of them, in front of Atatürk. Atatürk asked: “what is your name?”  One of them said, “Goldenberg”.  Atatürk: “O.K., let your name be Altındağ (in Turkish it means Golden Hill), you have just became Turkish, write it down”, he said.  He gave all of them a Turkish name and made them Turkish citizens.  “Now go ahead and play music”, he said.

Atatürk’s dentist was Günsberg.  His place was in Beyoglu.  My wife used to wait at the dentist’s door to be able to see Atatürk, when he came there.  When Atatürk came to Istanbul, he would visit with Dr Marküs too.  The old president of B’nai Brith.   Dr Marküs was our Grand Rabbi.  He was a doctor of philosophy.  Atatürk enjoyed talking with him.  Let me also talk about this. Atatürk got in line for the subway going from Karakoy to Beyoglu and bought a 2nd class ticket, and of course passed, everyone got up but he acted like a regular citizen.  Of course there were policemen in civilian clothing for security.  There was Tokatliyan hotel in  Galatasaray.  He would sit there with his entourage.  Sometimes we would see, he would wear a dark-colored capelike thing, and tall boots, we would look with admiration, he had such eyes, you could not stare, they were piercing.

The Austrian captain that I remember.  At the end of World War I, when the foreign armies that were here were leaving, the Austrian army, I have no idea where they came from, stayed for 3 days and returned to Austria.  A soldier with a captain’s uniform missed the return date and stayed here in the streets with his cane.  Just as my father was crossing the street in Tünel, he looks and sees an  Austrian soldier.  My father knows that the Austrians have left.  This soldier, his cane in his hand is shouting.  “Achtung (attention), Fire”, he shouts.  My father called him.  He asked his name: “Schwartz”.  My father understood that he was Jewish, he also checked, he was circumcised, he was not mentally normal.  They tried to help him return and asked around at the embassies.  They could find no connection, his family probably died during the war.  They looked for his family to send him back but could not find them.  He had to stay here.  My father gave him civilian clothing, found him a place to sleep.  There was a grocer, Jewish, “come to me every day.  You can deliver the orders”, he said.  He came to us too every evening for dinner.  We were together every evening at the table.  This lasted 25 years.  During this time he never begged, he even gave money to beggars.  There was one thing he loved, he always said give me a tie.  When I was in the military, there was an epidemic of smallpox and he died, I heard about it when I was in the military.

My wife Ceni Rutli

My wife Ceni Rutli (nee Romi) was born in Istanbul at Altinci Daire [a district on the European side of Istanbul]. On August 15th, 1923.  She studied in junior high. Her mother tongue is Judeo Espanyol, she also knows French. She worked for a very short while after school.  The Berber store of Soryano Hanalel.  They sold things like shirts and pijamas.  She did not work after getting married.  She had 2 siblings.  The older one Jak Romi, the younger one Albert Romi. They both went to Israel.  Jak Romi opened a hardware store there.  He had one daughter and one son.  Mahir Romi and Estella Romi.  Albert Romi married a woman from Egypt there.  He did not have children.

This is how my wife and I met.  I had a friend, Izi Goldenberg who was the owner of Grundig radios and televisions.  He used to manufacture gloves before, gloves for men and women.  He was at Sultanhamam in the five fingers building.  We also founded Rutli-Goldenberg, an agency specializing in hardware but it did not work afterwards.  My current wife was working in a shirt store around there.  When Goldenberg was working on gloves, she came one day to buy a pair and we met there.  I helped her carry the package she bought, we took it to the store.  She was a beautiful woman, “would you date me?”, I said.  “Yes, I will date you”, she said, but not alone.  I had friends, we went out together.  We went out one or two times.  Later we continued.  After a while she started asking about marriage.  I said, “I cannot marry before my sister is married”.  She told this to her mother.  Her mother said, “ask if she has money”.  She came to me and asked, “does your sister have money?”.  I told her that the older brothers that are in the United States and the ones here, they will all give.  She then told me “I know a doctor.  If your sister gets engaged, I will enter your house too, I want to get engaged too”.  I said, “o.k.”   We made a date at a bakery in Beyoğlu, so they could meet.  My older sister came with my older brother, and I with Ceni, and doctor Sami Reytan came alone because he did not have a father or such.  He was a good man, later on he became an internist, they liked each other a lot.  They decided, came to our house, got engaged and later on married.  They got married and we got married.  Following us, my older brother Charles also married.  And my mother lived with my older sister and the doctor.  The Doctor opened a clinic. There was a famous professor Frank here, who ran away from Germany, he was his assistant.  He did his residency with him. He became an internist.  Then he received a very good offer from Israel and went to Israel.  There he became a doctor at Kupat holim (national/public healthcare centers in Israel).  They had children there.  He bought a villa, he bought two flats for his children. His financial situation was good.  My mother went to Israel to be with them.

We were married in Istanbul in the Ashkenazi synagogue at Yüksek Kaldirim with my wife in 1947.  My wife is Sephardic.  I registered her to our community with a paper I took from the Sephardic community to be able to get married.  They have an agreement among themselves, they do not compete.  There is a difference in the way we get married in the synagogue.  Now, when you go to the temple, the groom comes with his mother and father just like the Sephardim, with us, I came with my mother, because there was no father, my older brother took his place.  With us, when the bride comes, she does not enter the temple directly.  She goes up the stairs, there is the first gallery there, she waits.  The rabbi comes, takes me and my mother, we go upstairs.  We open the veil to see that it is my wife. We say “o.k.”.  I go down alone, my mother stays with the bride and they descend together.  And this is why, it is in our history, Rachel for Leah.  This is it.  Because the guy wanted Rachel, they gave him Leah. [Story from the Bible: Yaakov wanted to marry Rahel and had to work for his future father-in-law for seven years to have her hand in marriage. However, on the wedding day, instead of Rahel they put the ugly older sister under the veil and married her off to Yaakov!]

The wedding went very well.  There was no evening party.  We got married, we immediately went home, undressed, changed, took a small suitcase and went immediately to the hotel. We went to Heybeli ada [the third one of the Princess islands, on the Marmara sea, south of Istanbul] for our honeymoon.  We stayed at a hotel there, Halki Palas, it was a nice hotel, the food was very good.  I remember there was a dish where they placed an egg on toast.  An egg over a toast, the yolk in the middle, however they did it, it was fantastic.  We stayed for 3-4 days there.  We were married on August 31st.  Our friends came too.  We went out on a boat.

For the first 3 years of our marriage we lived with my wife’s mother in Altinci Daire. Then we moved to Elmadag.  And we started to live on our own.

Family life

We had two children.  I have a deceased son. Norbert Noah Rutli.  My father’s name.   He was born exactly 9 months after we were married in 1948.  She became pregnant from the first night. Later on we went to Israel because he was sick.  He had a debilitating illness.  We stayed there.  He had an infirmity in his spine, there was a germ.  At the time I contacted Switzerland and the U.S.A.  Switzerland asked for a lot of money then.  Finally I got in touch with the ambassador and took him to Israel.  There were the sons of my father’s sister there. We stayed at their house.  He stayed in the hospital for one year. I stayed here during that time, my wife stayed there with the cousins.  At the time, the biggest professor in the United States who happened to be Jewish, had come to Israel for a visit.  We wrote to him and I don’t know how many thousands of dollars he asked for. My son had to stay 6 more months in the hospital then.  The doctor saw my son, why should he stay, let me operate and you take him with you, he said.  And he died during the operation.  But I think it was a mistake, I was not there.  It was what they call a shock operation.  Now, they had to put him  under before entering the operating room.  They brought my son the operating room without putting him to sleep. When my son saw the operating room and the lights, he went into shock and died.  Before putting him under the knife.  He was 5.5 years old when he died.  This illness started when he was 3.

After my son’s incident, my wife could not get pregnant for a long time.  From stress and anxiety.  Then G-d granted it.  My daughter Stina Rutli was born in 1956 in Istanbul.
When Stina was little, she ate with so much difficulty, that we did not want to have any more children.  The same morsel in her mouth for hours, we would say a birdie is flying, she still would not swallow.

We spoke in French with Norbert. He was very smart.  While his mother read in French, he would memorize it. We spoke in Turkish with Stina.  She does not know Judeo Espanyol at all.  We could not send her to a Jewish school- she attended a private elementary school in Pangalti, I do not remember the name, that school doesn’t exist any more.  She attended junior high in Saint-Pulcherie [French Catholic school]. She learned French there.  My cousin Eli Rozental was a teacher there.  He was a French teacher.
We raised our child according to Jewish traditions.  Even today, we celebrate the first night of Passover in Stina’s house.

We developed a lot of great friendships during the years we lived in Elmadag.  Esti and Mordo Peres, Zelda and Yomtov Behar, and us, 3 families lived in Elmadag.  Also Süzi Izak Sarhon and Izi Süzet Levi would come.  We would meet every evening.  Esti could not sleep at nights, she went to bed late, so she invited us all the time.  The place we lived at was called Uftade sokak (street).  We would go to the movies.  We would have conversations, sing songs, play games, we had a lot of fun.  During summers, we would go, again all together, to Caddebostan for years.  Later on when Stina grew up, we went to Suadiye for summer. [Two neighborhoods on the Asian side, on the seashore].  We got a nice home, that is to say rented it for summer.  The landlady had a son.  One day she came home, I wasn’t there, “with the decree of G-d, and the power of the prophet, I want your daughter for my son”.  Stina was still 14-15 years old.  We stopped going to Suadiye after this and started going to Büyükada [the largest and last one of the Princess islands].  A few years late she married Yusuf Jojo Baruh at the age of 18.  On June 1st, 1974.  Yusuf has a store about electricity on Bannkalar caddesi(Banks street). She had a daughter named Selin and a son named Ediz. Ediz is 27 years old, Selin is 25.

We had beautiful friendships in Caddebostan where we spent our summers.  We would go with them to the sea as well as play games, and dance, we laughed a lot, our days passed wonderfully. I can tell you this, the friendships that I just mentioned with the friends from Elmadag, we never found again.  There was such an intimacy that, for example one day, our friend Esti’s son Ceki was sick, they were scared that their other son Moris might catch it, we left our home, Mordo and Ceki went to our house, we went to Esti’s home. All three of us would sleep in the same bed.  But I have to go to work in the morning, it is the middle of the night, 3 or 4 a.m., Esti is still talking.  That is how we passed the time.  We were very very close.  This illness lasted for one month. Mordo there, us here.  In the choice of friends of course being Jewish was important.  But we also had very good Turkish neighbors and friends apart from this.  There was one Sara Hanim (Mrs. Sara) and one general colonel.  We were so close that the general colonel would come to stay with his relative.  He had a bag of documents, he would come and leave his bag at my house, so we could play cards, hide the bag so the guests cannot see it, he would say, he had so much trust in us.  I would hide it in the closet.  Also we were very close with Sara hanim.  We lived in a bungalow in Caddebostan. Sara hanim came to visit us.  She used to stay with us.  There was a hall at the entrance, we gave her a metal bed, she laid on it.  We went to bed inside in the bedroom.  Morning came, I have to go to work, I have to go through the hall, I open the door and looked to see if I can get out, I saw Sara hanım has dropped her cover and is lying half naked with her underwear and such, if I open the door and go out, she will wake up and feel bad, so I gently closed the door and left through the window of my bedroom.  We had such nice times.

We traveled a lot but not with the children.  We went to England 4-5 times,  we stayed in Italy, in Milan for one month, we went to Germany, to Munich, we went to Paris and Israel.

We used to go to my wife’s father’s house on seder nights, later when they went to Israel, we would hold it in our house.  Now we go to our daughter’s house.

We observed all the holidays in  our family.  Kashrut was observed.  At that time, one cousin, Mose was a butcher.  The meat, poultry was kosher, it would come from there.  Lobster, shrimp, pork would not enter our house, we observed Passover.  On Saturdays, my mother would light two candles, and I saw this at the movies later on.  She said a prayer, the table would be set with a tablecloth, a tuile cloth.  When my father came from the synagogue, the cloth would come out, the candles would be lit.

I would go to the Ashkenazi synagogue in Yüksek Kaldirim when I was little.  I used to go to Heyder (after school Hebrew classes) for two years, after school.  They would give classes to prepare for bar-mitzvah every day in Yüksek Kaldirim.  There was the rabbi Segal, there was Rav Shapira.  Usually Yiddish was spoken, the reading was in Hebrew.  We translated the Hebrew we read to Yiddish.  When my father died, I went to temple every morning for 11 months.  Kaddish is very important for us.  When my father died, it wasn’t like it is now, a rug used to be placed on the floor and we would sit on the floor for 7 days, that is how it needed to be done for mourning.  I was working then, there was a boss, Hamburger, he was Ashkenazi too, he was on a trip.  I was alone in the office, I would sit on the floor.  But 2-3 days later, I had to go and see if there was mail or telegraphs, so they put ashes but thin ashes into my shoes so I could not walk comfortably, I had to be sitting for seven days.

Currently I still go to the synagogue on Rosh hashana, on Yom Kippur.  There are now only about 100 families left as Ashkenazim.

When my father went to the synagogue sometimes I accompanied him.  Again my father would pray on the day of the Sabbath at home with wine, and we would listen.
We had the bar-mitzvah in the synagogue, at the Schneider Temple.  There were no balls or such outside then, 80 years ago.  I remember reading a lecture, one rabbi even gave me a book, a bar-mitzvah book and shoes as a gift.  I don’t remember if we did anything at home.

When I was little, I liked Passover the most because my mother cooked delicious dishes, our foods. There was Lorkes, Kugels, Matzo balls, Gefilte fish.  Gefiltefish:  You buy one big striped mullet and one mackerel.  First you clean the scales, then you remove the skin especially from the mullet without tearing.  Then you remove the bones of the fish and the flesh of the fish is ground with a meat cleaver.  Then it is mixed with a sauce made from eggs, salt and pepper and refilled into the skin that was removed from the mullet and cooked.  After it is cooked, it is sliced.  The meat that does not fit into the skin is made into meatballs.  My father used to love Passover a lot, he did not want it to end.  He would say I wish it continued for another month.

There were no “donme”s 5 from Salonika among our friends and relatives, only an acquaintance where I worked was Karay 6,  Levi.  We worked together in Becker pharmacy.  When Becker imported drugs, we needed a pharmacist to import the drugs, and that was Levi.  I thought he was Spanish, but he was Karay.  He spoke Spanish better than me.  He later opened a pharmacy in Tophane. The Karays resemble our Sephardim, only they believe in the Torah, they do not believe in the additions of the rabbis.  I learned Spanish from my wife and my friends.

World War II and the Turkish Jews

I was a soldier when the Holocaust was taking place in Europe, from 1941-1944.  and Anatolia was in the dark.  The lights would be out in Kayseri, in Malatya [two cities in the central section of Turkey called Anatolia], there was no electricity at night.  We were 550 non-Muslims in the military, Greeks, Armenians and Jews, ten corporal sergeants and one officer.  They gave us blue uniforms for the airport, then an order came, they removed the Armenians, they gave them brown uniforms, to build roads.  We went from town to town and were discharged from Canakkale [the Dardanelles].   I did not encounter antisemitism during this time.  There wasn’t any in Istanbul either.

About the war, we were afraid in general during that period.  Stalingrad comes to Russia and what will happen and so on. We were in Bandırma then, we built 3 plazas on the hill and 2 Jewish soldiers had a fight between themselves for whatever reason.  One sergeant said the non-Muslims have rebelled.  When we were getting up in the morning, all of a sudden, don’t move, we are surrounded, a load of soldiers have circled us with machine guns.  Then they looked, nothing is happening, they retreated.

I remember the first time we heard about what was being done to the Jews in Europe.  Of course, now even today, I do not wish to see Germans because of this.  The Germans took and killed 3 siblings of my father-in-law.  One was in Lyon, the other in Marseille, and one more in Paris.  They took all of them, sent them to camps, which camp I do not know.  But one of them returned.  He returned to France weighing 40 kilos (88 lb.s).  They gave him food slowly, little by little, cookies and such, because the stomach became smaller.  He also had a large number on his arm.

During World War II, a boat full of Jews came to Istanbul, they had run away from the Germans.  They kept them here.  The community intervened, as far as I can remember, they took them to Barinyurt [old people’s home], it was Goldschmith school then.  And everyone went there to visit them.  But they did not allow meeting them.  There was the police.  But I gave a sweater to a child.

I don’t know if this boat was the Struma 7 or another boat.  Later they returned all of them to the boat, we heard later on that it went under while leaving Çanakkale.  But was it Struma, or another boat, I cannot know.
We were soldiers when the Wealth Tax 8 was implemented during wartime.  They did not impose it on me but they did to my older brother, the one who married Mayer.  We even went to the mayor, my older brother asked for time, he said let me finish my military service and then pay.  They did not accept it.  He had a big apartment in Beyoglu, on Sürterazi sokagı (street), Mayer Apartment.  At the time it was registered for 350,000 in the registrar’s office.  They sold it with foreclosure for 110,000.  A wealth tax of 256,000 liras came.  And they said, “thank your lucky stars that you are a soldier, otherwise you were going to go to the military”.  That is how he was saved.
Also about the 20 military classes 9, at the time they took the men into the military, there were no young men left.  The women had to go out to the streets and sell lemons and such in Kuledibi, in Şişhane, because there were no men.  I went as a bakaya [new conscript who, because they were not present at their first muster, are charged with desertion] to the 20 military classes because I did not go when I should have.  I did 3 years of military service.  But I was comfortable.  I was giving German lessons to the officer who I was an orderly for.  Later my older brother came.  He came the third time.  He stayed for 7 months because he was old.

We heard about the Thrace events 10 but I don’t remember much.  The ones from Edirne know about it.

We were delighted with the birth of the Israeli nation.  There was our rabbi in Taksim. 
Rabbi Saposnik. Saposnik was Austrian.  He was a cantor in reality.  When there was no loudspeaker in the synagogue in Yüksek Kaldirim, his voice reverberated there.  Later on he changed to Israeli citizenship.  When the first Israeli embassy opened in Taksim, I remember, the daughter of Saposnik, I don’t remember the name, had raised the flag.  The Jews all congregated there.  Later on the embassy moved.

We did not have the opportunity to do aliyah there.  I worked at Becker for 10 years.  It was a big firm based in London.  You know, Unilever, same firm, they are part of a group.  Becker decided to import and to work as representatives, they will close the other departments and they left.  They told me let’s place you in Unilever.  I said I don’t want to be in an office, I want to be out in the market.  I told the manager, you are leaving these firms, then put them in my name.  We were 3 employees who left Becker, we opened an office and became the representatives of these firms.  The ones I remember were British firms like Rank Taylor Hopson,Edwards High Vacuum, and Baird & Tatlock ltd.  They were big firms.  Becker did not work with little firms.  If it wasn’t for this job maybe I would have gone to Israel.  But I could not go after taking on this work.
But among our acquaintances, the older and younger brother of my wife left.  My mother and older sister left.

We would talk about the subjects of Judaism and Israel among our friends.  We talked a lot.  For example, I do not allow talk against Israel, I react.

Today our communication with the Jewish community hass lessened.  We are not members of any society or club, we cannot take part in any activity but we continue applying our religion as before.  We try to go to the synagogue on holidays but it is now difficult for us to go from here.

When we are alone with my wife, we sometimes talk in Judeo Espanyol, and sometimes in French.  We talk either Turkish or Spanish with our friends, and Turkish with our daughter.

We did not live through any disagreements with our children as far as raising our grandchildren according to Jewish traditions.  They know that they are Jewish.
We used to gather the family before and my wife would cook, but we cannot do this anymore, our daughter does it now.

From the beautiful friendships we had in the past, now we have one Zelda Behar, and one Fani Romi, we get together with them.  We play a card game named Burako.  It is a game like Canasta.  We see each other once a week.  A year ago, I had to sell my car.  I developed cataracts in my eyes, I couldn’t see well anymore.  I had surgery in one eye and sold the car.  When we had the car, we could go out, stroll, eat out.  But now it is difficult without a car.

We were living in Sisli when the massacre in Neve Shalom in 1986 11 happened and while we were shopping from the greengrocer, he told us that a massacre happened in the synagogue.  We were very worried, immediately we called the kids.  Telephone calls came from Israel, from France, asking if anything happened to us. One of my friends died there. At first I did not know who had died, then I looked at the names, I saw there is a Barokas there.  When I was working in Becker, he was working in our export department.  He retired, I now have a house too, I will be comfortable now, he was saying.  We felt very bad.  They interned him in our Ashkenazi cemetery.

We felt very bad when we heard about the bombings in November of 2003 too 12.  We heard about the sounds of the bomb all the way here.   Our daughter immediately informed us.

Glossary

Samuel Sami Coyas
Istanbul
Turkey
Date of interview: January 2005
Interviewer: Tuna Saylag

Samuel Coyas is an 82-year-old, caring and happy man. He doesn’t really look his age. He has been an accountant for 60 years. This year he and his wife Berta Coyas celebrated their 54th wedding anniversary. Even though he is retired, just in the name of keeping busy, he goes to a friend’s office in Eminonu [a business district on the European side of Istanbul] four days a week to do his accounting. He is an enthusiastic newspaper reader, and follows national and international developments closely. He is fond of solving crossword puzzles. He has some health problems like heart disease, and sometimes feels short of breath. Our interviews took place at their house on Hamam Sokak, in Caddebostan [a neighborhood on the Anatolian side, with a concentrated Jewish population] in which Samuel Coyas and his wife have been living for 28 years. They live on the eighth floor of a modern apartment building, which has nine floors and 30 apartments. Their apartment is spacious and well-lighted, and has four rooms.

Family background

Growing Up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

Family background

My paternal grandmother’s name was Neama Eskenazi Coyas and my grandfather’s name was Samuel Eskenazi Coyas. I never met them. They used to live in Haskoy [a Jewish district on the European side of Istanbul], and later on they moved to Yedikule [a district of mainly Greek population on the European side of Istanbul]. My grandfather had died long before I was born. I don’t know how and when he died, but I guess he died in 1917. My grandfather was buried in the Haskoy cemetery, but I couldn’t find his name in the files. My grandmother, on the other hand, immigrated to the United States with my uncles after World War I, in 1918. My grandfather must have been an educated man. He was working at the Kazlicesme Leather Factory as an accountant. As you can see, being an accountant runs in the family.

My grandmother Neama dressed in a very stylish way. She wouldn’t go out without wearing all of her jewelry. That’s why they would say, ‘Esta pasando la de las djoyas’ meaning ‘the lady with the jewelry is passing by’, when she went out. In time, Coyas [meaning jewelry in Ladino] had become the nickname of the family, and started to be used along with Eskenazi. Because Eskenazi was a very widespread surname, we were given only the surname Coyas, when the ‘Surname Law’ 1 was passed in 1934. There is no other family in Turkey bearing this surname. As far as I can remember, my grandmother died in New York, in 1936 or 1937.

The roots of the Amon Family go all the way to Serez [today Makedonia province, Greece]. In the past, the Amons were a family who raised rabbis. It has been said that esteemed cabbalists were among them, but I don’t know the names of any. My maternal grandfather’s name was Izak Amon. I never met him either, and my mother didn’t speak about him much. I guess he died young, but I don’t know the date. My grandfather’s brothers, one of whom was Rav Nisim Amon [‘Rav’ was the way the rabbis were and still are addressed], and his cousins, Rav Sabetay Amon and Rav Moshe Amon, were among the most prominent and respected rabbis of the time. Rav Sabetay Amon would go to the synagogue in Kuzguncuk [a district on the Asian shore of the Bosphorus in Istanbul] with his followers on Friday nights. In doing so he would pass through the bazaar, and if he saw an open shop owned by a Jew, he would immediately warn the man with a sharp look. Upon this warning, the shop owners would close their shops immediately, and go to their homes. He would also give Hebrew and Tora lessons to children in the synagogue.

My maternal grandmother’s name was Estreya Amon [nee Illel]. Her family was from Haskoy. Later on they moved to Daghamam [a district on the Asian side of Istanbul]. I can still vividly remember my grandmother. She was a very nice and energetic woman. She would cover her head with a white scarf when she went out. She always spoke Spanish [Ladino] and knew how to write using the Rashi alphabet 2. In those times, nobody knew Turkish anyway, especially the women. All the Jews would speak Judeo-Spanish amongst themselves. The ones who spoke Turkish had a very bad accent. I learned Turkish when I started elementary school.

The Amon couple had three children: Vitali, Mazalto and Nisim. My grandmother lived with Nisim Amon, her younger son, till she died. He was a bachelor and was living with them when her husband was still alive. My uncle was the breadwinner of the house. My grandmother was very good at housekeeping. She would always cook and manage everything in the house until her son got married. She never got along with Sofi Taragano, her daughter-in-law. Due to the intense quarrels at home, she aged early, and died in 1934; she wasn’t able to see my bar-mitzva. She was very fond of my mother, her only daughter, me and my brother. There was a dish which my grandmother would cook seasonally and which I liked very much called ‘balkaba kon zirguela’ [Ladino for ‘pumpkin dish cooked with damson plums’]. The pumpkin was cleaned, washed, then sliced and placed in the pot. After oil and salt was added, the damson plums, with their seeds, were placed over the pumpkin slices. The damson plums would add a sour taste to the dish.

My father, Yasef Eskenazi Coyas, was born in Haskoy. He worked at the Kazlicesme Leather Factory, as a blue-collar worker. He took part in the Gallipoli War (1915-1916) 3 when he was doing his military service, and was taken prisoner by the British. He was kept under arrest for two and a half years in London. His family couldn’t get any news about him and thought that he had died. I don’t have any information about the days he spent under arrest there.

My father had eight siblings, two of whom were women, and the rest were men. All of them, except his sister Rashel Deleon [nee Eskenazi Coyas], emigrated to the United States after World War I. [The Ottoman Empire in World War I] 4 Nisim, Sultana Matalon [nee Eskenazi Coyas], Eliezer and Eliya emigrated to the States. Rafael first immigrated to Britain and then to France, and Jak and Leon immigrated to France. The whole family was scattered. At that time, the Ottoman Empire was going through its last and most difficult days. There was a lot of unemployment. The foreign countries provided the immigrants with a lot of facilities. During that period, it was even said that a very large non-Muslim community, mostly Armenians and Syrian Christian Orthodox living in Harput [Elazig province, Eastern Anatolia], had all immigrated to the States.

All of my father’s siblings were single when they left Turkey. The ones who immigrated to France got married to Christians, while the ones who immigrated to the States got married to Jews. All of them had children and grandchildren. When my father was set free, and returned home, he had no one from his family left in Turkey, except his sister. According to what my mother used to tell me, the day my father arrived in Istanbul, he went to see his sister Rashel Deleon. That night, it was the first anniversary of his father’s death, and a meldado [prayer, yearly commemoration of the dead, the equivalent of the Ashkenazi yahrzeit] was being chanted at home for his soul. My father hadn’t known about his father’s death up until then. According to this event, it is possible that my grandfather died in 1917, but I don’t have any information about the circumstances of his death. On the same day, my father also learned that his whole family had immigrated.

During certain periods of my life, I often met with my uncles – Rafael, Jak and the youngest one, Leon – who had immigrated to France. They sometimes came with their families to Istanbul. They – Jak and Leon; Rafael never came – usually stayed with us or over at my cousin Kemal Deleon’s house. During one of their stays, we took them to the Yalova Spa Hotel, and stayed four or five days there. [Yalova is a district on the shores of the Marmara Sea. People used to go there for the summer.]

My wife, our children and I would sometimes go to Nice. We would either stay over at Leon’s house or at a hotel, depending on the circumstances. We would go to Juan Les Pins [a neighborhood in Nice, famous for its beaches] to swim every day. We would greatly enjoy ourselves and laugh at the jokes Lucienne [nee Loubeau], Leon’s wife, used to tell, even though neither I nor my wife could speak French well. We liked each other a lot.

All of the three siblings were engaged in the shoe trade. Jak and Rafael owned one shoe shop in which they were partners, and Leon owned another shoe shop of which he was the sole owner. The two shops were in different neighborhoods, but ‘JOYAS’ [Coyas spelled the French way] was written in capital letters on the signs of both of them. Their houses and business premises were across each other. Rafael’s wife’s name was Louise. They had no children. Jak’s wife’s name was Henriette, and they had a daughter named Jacqueline. Their youngest, Leon, was married to Lucienne, and they had a son named Michel Sami and a daughter named Daniela.

Living in Nice, a city that wasn’t near Paris, and having Christian wives helped my uncles to survive World War II, without being sent to the camps. [Nice was in Vichy France, a German satellite lead by Marshal Petain, and not under direct German administration like the northern part of the country, including Paris.] But they used to say that they had had very difficult days. Leon had joined the [French] Resistance, who were fighting against the occupation forces, and he lived with them in the mountains. He had a serious complication related to his heart, probably due to the exhausting days he spent with the opposition forces. Though he was the youngest one amongst the uncles, he was the first one to die, sometime in the 1970s; I don’t remember the exact date. Jak died next, and then Rafael. I don’t remember the dates either. Later on, though we wrote a great many letters to their wives, we didn’t receive any answers. I don’t have any information about what their children are doing. We lost contact with them completely.

Unfortunately, I never met my uncles who lived in the States. I remember them exchanging letters with my mother when I was young, and helping her a little bit financially when she became a widow. Also once, my cousin Leon Eskenazi in the States, the son of Uncle Albert, and his wife, and Norma Matalon, the daughter of Aunt Sultana, came to Istanbul in 1965. Though we met then for the first time, we immediately established a strong rapport and chatted for hours. Unfortunately, I couldn’t receive any information about them either later on.

My mother, Mazalto Fortune Coyas [nee Amon] was born in 1893 in Daghamam, Istanbul. She was a tall, fair-skinned and very good-looking lady. She didn’t cover her head. She went to the Alliance school [see Alliance Israelite Universelle] 5 in Kuzguncuk. She spoke French, Spanish and Greek, and knew how to write using both the Latin and the Rashi alphabets. The Amon family settled down in Kuzguncuk when their house was burned down during the legendary Daghamam fire 6. My mother, who was newly wed at the time of the fire, used to tell us frequently about this fire: how horrifying it was, how fast it had spread, how the people had fled in panic and didn’t have time to save anything from their homes. A lot of Jewish families lost their houses in this big fire.

My father met my mother through his sister Rashel. They were distant relatives anyhow. They got married after a certain period of time and settled down in Yedikule. My father continued working at the leather factory while my mother was a housewife.

Growing Up

I was born in our house in Yedikule in January 1923 [28 Tevet 5683 in accordance with the Hebrew calendar]. My brother, Izak, was born two years later. We were both sent to the Mestra [Greek kindergarten]. I learned Greek there. It was like my mother tongue. When they asked me something in Turkish, I would reply in Greek and say ‘Postelani?’ meaning ‘how would you say it?’ and search for the Turkish words in my mind. We had a dog named Florika and I liked him very much.

There was a great love between my mother and father. Unfortunately when my father died of pneumonia at a very early age in 1927 [23 Sevat 5687], my mother felt very desperate and sad. She had become a widow at a very early age, with two little children, and started struggling for existence. I was four and my brother was just two years old. That’s why I remember my father very vaguely. I only remember him taking me to the bazaar in his arms. This is the only memory left in my mind related to him. My mother dressed in black for a year, wore a black hat and covered her face with a black scarf when she went out. But her mourning lasted all her life. She always talked about our father with love and longing.

My uncle Nisim Amon, who was living with my grandmother on Simitci Tahir Street in Kuzguncuk, took us to live with him when my mother became a widow. That is how we moved to Kuzguncuk. Nisim was very fond of his elder sister, my mother. My uncle supported us both financially and morally, as a father would do. My aunt Rashel also frequently welcomed us at her house in Yedikule. We would stay there for days. In those times, family ties were very close, and there was a great mutual support amongst relatives.

My uncle’s house was quite big. It was three-storied, so we all fitted in easily. There was a living room, hall and kitchen on the ground floor. On the second floor, there were three bedrooms, a large hall and a toilet. On the last floor, there was the attic where all the junk was stored away. We slept on the second floor, in the same room as my mother. I slept on the floor, while my brother slept in my mother’s bed. The other rooms were used by my uncle and grandmother. Because the table in the hall on the second floor was bigger, we would use it to dine at when we had guests. We didn’t have electricity at home, but we had running water. We would use the brazier for heating. Our cat would always lie down under the hot brazier.

My uncle had had to quit his education in medicine and start working in order to support his family, after he had lost his father. He was a responsible person. He used to speak good French. He was working at a big store and had a good salary. He was a very fastidious man. He would examine his water glass in the light to see whether it had any spots on it or not. He would wear a robe called ‘Kurdi’ 6, with fur lining, when it got cold in winter. During the weekdays, all the men, young or old, would wear long robes called ‘entaris’ 7 at home.

My grandmother’s brother Nesim and his wife Klaris would frequently visit us. They didn’t have any children. They lived in a neighborhood on the European side. They would stay for one or two months, when they came in the summer. Then the house would cheer up. They were very joyful people. In this way, my mother’s sadness would fade away, if only for a short while.

My elder uncle, Vitali, wasn’t like his brother Nisim at all. He was handsome, and full of life. He really liked enjoying himself. He wasn’t like my younger uncle, who was sensible and responsible. He would never help his younger brother, who took care of both his mother and us. When he was doing his military service in Tekirdag [a city in the Thrace region, where many Jews lived], he met Merkada Saltiel, the daughter of one of the rich families of the city. They fell in love and got married. They immigrated to Cuba in 1924, due to unemployment, after their three daughters – Estreya, Vida and Fortune – were born. There, they had a son, whom they named Izak. They stayed in Havana for six years, and returned to Istanbul in 1930, when the circumstances over there also got worse. I remember the day on which they arrived, on a big ship, at the Istanbul Port, very well. We – my mother, my uncle and I – went to meet them. They settled down in Azap Kapi [a district on the European side of Istanbul] later on. His wife was a dressmaker. My uncle, on the other hand, never had a decent job all his life. He did everything, but never stuck to any of his jobs. At some stage, he even opened up a hamburger-shop in Persembe Bazaar [a trade center in Karakoy]. He died in hospital in 1955 having lost his sanity because of diabetes.

During the years we used to live with my uncle Nisim, my mother was trying to make some money by buying sewing supplies from the wholesaler and trying to sell them to her friends. Our comfort lasted for five or six years, till my uncle Nisim got married. From then on the atmosphere at home became uneasy. Sofi Taragano, my uncle’s wife, was disturbed by our presence in the house. Upon this, we moved into the attic. As I mentioned earlier, my grandmother and Aunt Sofi didn’t get along with each other either. Their fights were so famous in the neighborhood that we, the two siblings, would run to our mother in fear, when the screaming started. My mother, who couldn’t stand this uneasy atmosphere, decided to leave the house after a while, in 1933, though my uncle never wanted her to do so. After this incident, a coldness between the two siblings started, and they stopped seeing each other.

We then rented an apartment in a house that belonged to an Armenian named Araksi, on the same street. The apartment had two rooms. We had a wooden divan, a table, and a few chairs. I would sleep in the living room, while my brother slept in the same bed as my mother. We didn’t have electricity; our only means of lighting was a gas lamp. We had running-water and would use a brazier for heating. We would heat the water, and wash ourselves in the wash-basin at home. Sometimes we would go to the hamam [Turkish bath]. My mother would wash the clothes by hand on a wash-board, and would do the ironing with the iron, which she warmed on the brazier. She used to cook our food on a coal stove called ‘furfur’ [‘ornaya’ in Ladino]. The ‘furfur’ was either fixed at the kitchen counter or was portable. It looked like a 10-kg oil can. First clay, then coal was placed in the stove. And a heat resistant grill was placed at the very top of the stove so you could place a pot on top of it. After lighting up the coal, the fire was fanned to keep it going.

That year, my mother started to work for an Armenian dressmaker in Uskudar [a district on the Asian side of Istanbul] for one lira a day –´our monthly house rent was 4 liras – in order to make a living for us. She would leave home in the mornings, and go to work on foot, in order to save money. The distance between our house and her workplace was three kilometers. She would prepare our lunch before she left. I was ten and my brother was around eight years old. We would play with the ball or marbles in the street all day long till my mother came home. We would play with the ball reluctantly, fearing that our shoes, which were already old, would wear out even more. My mother, who had become desperate once, had cut the upper parts of her boots, which were left from her teenage years, and gave me the cut boots to wear.

I often saw my mother crying, and cried as well because I couldn’t bear to see her cry. We had a lot of difficulties getting by. We bought our coal from the coal-seller Anastas [Greek name] either weekly or in kilograms. We couldn’t afford to buy good oranges, and bought from the rotten fruits called ‘tokadikas’ [meaning ‘touched’ in Ladino] because they were cheaper. Whenever my mother was hard up, she would cut a piece from her ‘kolana’ [gold chain necklace in Ladino], which my father had bought her, and sell it, in order to be able to pay the rent. The necklace was one meter long.

Later on, when she became tired of going to work, she left her job in Uskudar and started sewing ties at home. One day, a thief broke into the house and stole her sewing machine when we had gone out to take some air. My mother felt very sad. Her livelihood was gone. A few days later, she sold the chain-watch, the last memory left to us from my father, and bought a new sewing machine.

My mother didn’t lose contact with my aunt Sultana and my uncles, my father’s brothers, who had immigrated to the States. She often exchanged letters with them. They would sometimes send money, in small amounts, to help us. When my aunt Sultana once sent a check for 150 dollars, we had to go to the Ottoman Bank on Voyvoda Street in Karakoy to cash it. We settled our rent and coal debts first, and then we went shopping. We were so happy that day, as if it was a festival! I’ll never forget that day.

I started school at the 45th state Jewish elementary school in Kuzguncuk in 1929. The school changed its building three times. Finally, it moved to the very big house of Marko Pasha 9, which was situated in the upper part of Kuzguncuk. Turkish grammar was the subject which I liked most and was most successful at in school. I was a good student, in general. Our next-door neighbor, Madam Viktorya, taught me French for free. I owe the little bit of French I speak today to her. We didn’t have much of a regular reading habit. There were only religious books in French and Hebrew, which had been left from my grandfather, at home. Later on, as I grew up, I started reading novels by writers like Alexandre Dumas [(1802-1870): French novelist and dramatist], and Michel Zevaco [(1860-1918): French novelist, professor and filmmaker] in Turkish. I even used to read one page to my mother each night. She liked this very much.

Like all other children of the age of six or seven, my brother and I went to the Mahaziketora, or to prayers in the afternoons for two hours. My mother attached a lot of importance to this. However, we only went on weekends during the school season. In the summertime, during holidays, we would go three to four times a week. One year a hazan [chazzan] came to Kuzguncuk, and set up a children’s choir. We would sing some of the prayers, all together.

We weren’t very religious, but trefa [treyf] meat definitely didn’t enter our house. My mother would neither work on Shabat [Sabbath], nor touch the fire. We liked all the holidays and celebrated them according to the traditions. My mother would always sew us new cotton flannel pajamas during Rosh Ashana [Rosh Hashanah]. The Pesah [Pesach] preparations would start days before, and the whole house would be cleaned. The loksa [Pesach dishes] came out. There was even a special frying pan used for burmuelos 10. It was taken out of the closet and made ready for use. My mother would cook the ‘Chufletes’ dish, special to this holiday.

I couldn’t go on with my education after elementary school because our financial situation wasn’t good and I had to work. Poverty and having no father had matured me at a young age. Meanwhile the time for my bar-mitzva had come. My mother started preparing for it according to her means. She took me to Bahcekapi [a shopping street in Eminonu], and bought me a proper suit for my bar-mitzva. I didn’t want her to have any expenses. Though I told her that this much preparation wasn’t necessary, she didn’t listen to me and said, ‘Whatever is needed, will be done. I will not make you feel that you have no father.’ She had Rav Avram Amram prepare a speech for me.

We celebrated my bar-mitzva at the upper synagogue [Virane Synagogue, built in 1840]. I gave a long speech, about ten pages, in Spanish, which I had memorized with a lot of difficulty. It was a very emotional speech, which also referred a little to our situation. Generally it was composed of sentences, which emphasized growing up without a father, and how our mother made sacrifices and raised us all on her own. All of the guests’ eyes were filled with tears. We didn’t make any other preparations besides this. Because I went to the synagogue, I knew all the prayers by heart. Then all the relatives came home to congratulate me. The house was filled up. We offered them lemonade and almond candy with a spoon. I don’t remember receiving any presents. My mother was content for having been able to organize a ceremony, however small, for her elder son.

Two years later, unfortunately, we didn’t have the same means for my brother. We celebrated Izak’s bar-mitzva in the same synagogue without a speech having been prepared, only by carrying out the basic religious requirements.

Religion was a way of life in those times. Naturally, most of the families were devout. They would definitely send their children to the synagogue, and to the Mahaziketora. There were two synagogues in Kuzguncuk. The name of the first one, in the lower area close to the sea and the main street, was Kal de Abasho [lower synagogue] or Beth Yaakov [the big synagogue, built in 1878]. The name of the other one, in the upper part, on the corner where Tinman Musa and Yakup Street intersect, was Kal de Ariva [upper synagogue] or Virane Synagogue. In fact, they were close to each other. [These synagogues are still in use today]. Four tefilas [tefillah] were conducted every morning, and the synagogues would fill up for all four.

There were a lot of rabbis and hazans in Kuzguncuk. Rabbi Sabetay Amon, Rabbi Simon Benshushe, Rabbi Avram Amram and Rabbi Michel Abut were only some of them. They all had long beards. There was also a shohet [shochet]. There wasn’t a mikve [mikveh], but there were two hamams. Dag Hamam was on Icadiye Street, and Little Hamam was on Meshruta Street. There was no yeshiva. When there was a meldado, all the rabbis would drop by that house, and would read the mishna, till meldar [prayer] time. This was called ‘Ezger’ [a group of mainly old people who read the tefilin for people who do not have the time or the inclination to do so themselves. They got paid for it. They also went around houses to read for the souls of the dead].

We would definitely go to the prayers on Saturdays. The fire wasn’t touched on Shabat. The gypsies did this job, and they would go around the streets and let the families know that they had arrived by shouting ‘Bellows, bellows’. Also on Saturdays, the rabbis and religious men would gather in the synagogue’s courtyard and read religious books, the Gemara. Afterwards they would summarize and debate it. In the afternoons, seuda shlishit [last Sabbath meal after minha] was always served. Most of the families in Kuzguncuk were engaged in the paper trade, were poor and had difficulties getting by. These people wouldn’t buy their coal all at once, but in kilograms. The rich ones would bring charcoal on ox-carts to their houses. This was burned on the braziers.

When a patient who couldn’t walk had to be taken to a doctor or hospital, howdah-like stretchers, which were covered by curtains on all sides, and carried by a few people, were used. These were called ‘Mafa’. On the other hand, horse carriages called ‘Talika’ were preferred for going around. A taxi in Kuzguncuk would be an extraordinary event. Everybody would gather around the taxi, and watch it. The streets were cobbled. There was no fixed marketplace. We had mobile greengrocers, yoghurt and fabric-sellers, who came to our doors. They would go around selling their goods which were loaded on donkeys.

We didn’t have a club or an association. People would get together either in the synagogues or at homes. The synagogues had taken the role of social clubs in Kuzguncuk. The Jews lived in ghettos like Haskoy, Balat, Kuledibi and Ortakoy [see Jewish residence in Istanbul] 11. [Editor’s note: There definitely existed a synagogue in these neighborhoods. The Jews lived in places around the synagogue, and had their own way of life.]

Kuzguncuk had been a Jewish town since the beginning of the 17th century. Many Jews and Greeks lived there. On the other hand, the number of Turks and Armenians living in Kuzguncuk was small. The Jews of old times [pilgrims] thought the Kuzguncuk area was very sacred because they believed that this land was the last stop on their way to Jerusalem. Therefore, the religious Jews preferred to be buried in the Kuzguncuk cemetery in Nakkastepe [district on the Asian side of Istanbul], in cases when they didn’t reach the Promised Land. The house in which the Chief Rabbi Deputy elections were held, is also there. [The Secular Council met there in 1872 to elect the Chief Rabbi. After much debate they selected Moshe Halevi as the Hahambashi of Istanbul.]

We were all like siblings. In general we weren’t subjected to any hostile behavior from Turks. There wasn’t any anti-Semitism in Kuzguncuk when I was young. But there always existed an uneasiness and fear within us, Jews. We tried to keep a low profile. Our mother would always warn us and say: ‘Don’t ever get involved in fights with the Turks.’ We lived in a passive and introvert manner. We had slowly started to feel that the tolerant atmosphere we had had during the Ottoman period, wasn’t present any more after the [Turkish] Republic 12 was founded. I suppose, this was the greatest factor in constituting our low-profile life model. Besides, incidents like the rising nationalist movements, assimilation efforts, and the Thrace Events 13 had made us very cowardly, especially when the many families who had escaped the Thrace Events settled down in Kuzguncuk. There was nobody around us who showed interest in politics. Anyhow, the number of non-Muslims taking part in politics and state affairs declined after the Turkish Republic was founded.

The most important political event I remember from my childhood is the death of Ataturk 14. I went to Dolmabahce Palace, like all the citizens of Istanbul. The line of people extended for kilometers. They were waiting to pass by his corpse and see Ata for the last time. The visit lasted for three days and three nights. All of Istanbul was there during the funeral. A lot of tears were shed. Ataturk’s corpse was brought to the Seraglio, on a military carriage pulled by the generals, after a march which lasted hours. Then it was placed on a war ship, which then went to the Haydarpasa Train Station, in order for the corpse to be taken to Ankara. It was so crowded everywhere, that I was only able to watch the ceremony from Yuksek Kaldirim [the steep slope which connects Karakoy to Tunel]. A great ceremony was also prepared in Ankara. We all felt very sad. We couldn’t accept that he didn’t exist anymore. Turkey had lost her father.

There were a lot of Jewish tradesmen in Kuzguncuk, like the grocer, the butcher, the greengrocer, the dressmaker, people engaged in the textile business, and the cobbler. Besides, there were also educated people like the pharmacist Gabay [Sephardic name], and the doctors Dr. Amon, Dr. Robert Karmona, Dr. Pizante, Dr. Jozef Bardavit, and merchants, who were engaged in the dye and paper trade. Of course, there existed a class distinction between the certain levels of society. The ones who were rich lived near the sea, whereas the poor ones lived around the river bed region called ‘Vinya’ [vineyard]. The neighborhood relations were very sincere. When we made visits, we would offer to each other coffee, and sometimes ‘atramus’ and ‘liparidas’. [Atramus: a kind of legume like the broad bean. The grains of the bean were washed and left in salty water for two days. The grains, which became yellowish, were peeled and eaten. Only Jews ate this. Liparidas: a kind of salted and dried fish.]

Men would spend their time either at the coffee houses or by going around with their friends, when they didn’t work. Everybody could go to these coffee houses. They played either cards or backgammon and chatted while drinking tea and coffee. These places were favored especially after work and during holidays. Women would usually stay at home. Families would sometimes go to Baglarbasi [a neighborhood, where mostly Armenians lived], to watch the theatrical company. The most famous actor of the company was an Armenian named Karakas. He used to play all the leading roles. Someone from the company would come on a horse carriage, and announce the program with a megaphone: ‘Othello or The Wife of an Arab [this was a slogan of the announcer of the play Othello, refering to Desdemona, the wife of Othello, the Moor or in other words Arab] is going to be staged in our theater this Sunday’. They would go through all the remote streets making this announcement.

Later on, when the era of cinema began, we started watching silent films on a raised deck. When the film started, a man would go to the piano next to the curtain and start playing it. In this way, the silence was broken. I watched the first sound movie at the Beylerbeyi Cinema, which our school had taken us to. It was Tarzan. I remember watching the film and being totally amazed. I liked it very much. From that moment on, we kept shouting ‘Aaaaaaa’, like Tarzan did in the movie.

On [Turkish] Independence Day 15 arches were set up, students and soldiers would perform official parades on the main streets. Apart from these kinds of celebrations, Ayios Pantelemion, the Greek Church in Kuzguncuk, would prepare a big fair once a year and the whole of Icadiye Street would be decorated with flags. This day, which coincided with the summer season, was celebrated as the Saint’s Day, if I’m not mistaken, the one who gave the church its name. The Greek coffee houses would all set up their tables outside. Greeks from all over Istanbul would come and pray first, and then would drink the healing water from the spring of the church. Entertainment was prepared at night. Everybody would dine, sing, and dance together. Jew or Turk, we would all go to the fair and enjoy ourselves. Everybody was looking forward to this day with anticipation. Besides, also during Easter, which coincided with our Pesah holiday, Icadiye Street was decorated with flowers. We would sing and dance, with the hand organ accompanying us. As the poetess Beki L. Bahar said, Kuzguncuk was a town, where ‘the ezan [the call to prayer for Muslims], the can [church bell], and the hazan lived together in love.’

Our very religious neighbor, Marko Cerasi, found me my first job. Monsieur Cerasi would say ‘al ken va vinir a la tefila, le var topar echo’ meaning ‘I’ll find jobs for whoever comes to tefila’. In this way, he encouraged us to go to the synagogue every morning. My first job was to work with a cap dealer on Mercan Slope [a trade center in Sultanhamam, on the European side of Istanbul] for 1.5 liras a week, at the age of 13. My job there was to cut the rough material around the caps, and arrange them. But the regular cutting work damaged my hands within a short period of time. All my fingers got swollen. Besides, the money I received was only sufficient for my ferry ticket. I quit working there after a month and started at another place, which made military uniforms. I also quit that job, because I was paid monthly, not weekly. My mother didn’t have enough to provide for my travel expenses, all through the month.

After a little while, Sami, the son of our neighbor Baruh, placed me as an apprentice at the Farhi Textile Wholesale Shop in Sultanhamam. I used to do all the cleaning and office-boy jobs there. Within time, I started measuring the fabric rolls. The same firm had a retailer branch in Karakoy. Later on they placed me there to work. I stayed in that firm till I was drafted. The Farhis were a rich family. They used to live in the well-known Cumhuriyet Apartimani [Republic Apartment in Taksim, a luxurious apartment building which housed the richest families of the time]. Mr. Farhi’s wife was the sister of Albert Siyon, the ‘glass king’ of the time. Unfortunately, the Siyons lost all of their fortune after the Wealth Tax 16 was introduced. The Wealth Tax didn’t affect us, because we were poor. But we heard that a lot of wealthy Jewish families like the Siyons suffered from it.

During the War

I was drafted at the age of 19, on 25th October 1942. World War II was going on with all its violence. I did my military service for three and a half years, in Akhisar, Adana and Ankara. They gathered all of us at the Sultan Ahmet Mosque in Eminonu [also known as the ‘Blue Mosque’] before the first distribution to our units. We were crammed into the mosque. They kept us waiting there for three days. We slept on the floors. The toilets were very dirty. They took us to a hamam, near the Sirkeci synagogue on the last day. The water wasn’t running properly. We stepped into the showers with our shoes on. They put our clothing into very hot pipes called ‘irons’, and killed all the microbes. Then the posting started. They put us on ships filled with sheep and goats, and took us to Bandirma [the Asian side of the Sea of Marmara]. There, we were placed one over the other in black wagons, which were like the ones that carried the Jews during World War II.

In the morning, we arrived in Akhisar [a suburb in the Aegean Region]. They gave us a ration of food, comprised of olives, raisins and tahina. Then, carrying heavy backpacks, we walked for 25 kilometers till we reached the 18th battalion. They vaccinated everyone for typhoid fever. After we had worked in road construction for two months, they sent us to Devebagirtan. There, they separated the Jews and the Armenians, and sent us, the Jews, to Manisa [a town in the Aegean], to the so-called Jewish Farm. [The so-called Jewish Farm was Kayalioglu School, built by Jews that had settled in Akhisar (near Konya). Students would learn about agriculture, applying its theories in the gardens and fields that belonged to the school and they even had a winery in the basement of the school building.] It had a big siyon [magen David] at its gate. Jews used to live there in the past. After staying there for one or two days, they sent us to Ankara.

There were a lot of young Jews who were doing their military service at the Ankara Youth Park. They sent me to the Cubuk Dam, which was in the vicinity. The soldiers used to drink alcoholic beverages regularly there. When a group of us, and I was part of that group, complained about this to the higher officials, we were sent to the Adana Road Headquarters Seyhan River regulator construction for being informers. [Adana is a town in the Mediterranean.] The Germans were responsible for the construction and used the soldiers as workers. Three of us would walk, the dam’s water running below us, on the narrow wooden beams, which were 50-60 meters high, and carry another beam on our shoulders. My legs used to shake with fear.

A few days later, the commander took me on as an adjutant upon his wife’s wish, who had just given birth to their child. Most of the people in road construction were rough people. 95 percent of them were Armenians. I guess, the commander had chosen me because I was young and had decent looks. As an adjutant, I did the cleaning and shopping and so forth, in other words everything that was asked from me. In this way, I was saved from carrying beams up on the heights. After two months, when the commander was assigned somewhere else, I asked to be appointed to another post in order not to have to return to my old one. Upon this, I was assigned to the Taskopru [an administrative district of Adana] Team Chief Commandership, as a typist. I learned how to type there. The other soldiers were working in road construction. The famous singer Dario Moreno 17 was also with us. He used to sing and play his guitar at the Adana Officer’s Club.

Each time some part of the road construction was completed, our unit would move on towards the border. Except for the work, life was very monotonous there. We were in the middle of open fields, like deserts, and slept in tents. There were a lot of Armenians among us. Anyways, the Armenians were always assigned to road-works. One of them was a skilled actor; I don’t remember the name now. One day he asked our commander for permission to stage a play. He started to prepare things once our commander had given him permission to do so. He gave a job to everyone. Soon, a stage was constructed with the beams and pieces of wood that were scattered around. Our actor friend gave everyone a part to play and put on the play ‘A good judge of people’. [The play was based on a novel by Andre Maurois (1885-1967): pseudonym of Emile Herzog: French biographer, novelist and essayist.] I played a woman’s role because of my ‘petite’ looks. I don’t remember the plot, but the play was a comedy. We had rehearsed a lot and memorized our lines. Most of our Armenian friends were talented when it came to the arts, and thus created all of our costumes, make-up, and sets. They had me wear a dress and a bonnet, and with the make-up done, they turned me into a good-looking lady. We performed the play three or four times. The commanders and the other soldiers watched us and burst out laughing.

The road had reached Ceyhan [an administrative district of Adana]. The commander here would drink at night and then go into the tents of the soldiers and either make them sing or beat them.

Due to the events that had taken place in history, they would approach the Armenians suspiciously, and didn’t want to let them out of their sight. Furthermore, when one day the news spread that President Ismet Inonu 18 would pass through Adana, as a precautionary measure, they withdrew the Armenians from the construction site for a few days. They usually had the Jews work for airport construction at the Air Force Headquarters.

The road construction in Adana reached Hassa [border gate of Iskenderun with Syria]. We were changing places according to the construction. One day, in 1944, we heard that 18 Jewish soldiers working in road construction, two of whom were from Kuzguncuk, had fled to Israel [British Mandate Palestine] via Syria [French Mandate]. I was the first one to hear the news because I was working in the office. That year they abolished the Road Construction Units 19. They sent me and two of my friends to do office work at the Ankara Mobilization Head Office. There, we had the chance to read top secret documents; they had two moons on them as a marker. Most of them included warnings about Armenians, saying that they should be watched closely. We demolished all the documents by tearing them apart.

It was the war years. In the military we didn’t receive much information from the outside world. We sometimes learned from friends who were discharged how the war went on, and what the Germans’ situation was. But we learned everything when we returned to civil life. We had heard about the ship, Struma 20, which departed from Constanta [today Romania], and was sunk in the Black Sea; but the Wealth Tax, was the thing most spoken about. It was said that many people had gone bankrupt and that some non-Muslims had been deported to Askale, due to the Wealth Tax. There were also wealthy young men in the military. These would cry whenever they heard from their families. Their fathers were taken away. Everything they had – even their coffee cups – were taken.

My uncle Nisim Amon also lost all of his fortune during this period. He had three children, one of whom was a girl, Estreya, and the two others were boys, Izak and Jojo. Before the Wealth Tax, he used to run a haberdashery store and had a Turkish partner. His business was quite good. But when he was asked to pay the Wealth Tax, he had to sell his share to his partner, in order to pay the Wealth Tax. He had to move from the house he lived in to a smaller, cheaper one. Later on, he had to work as an office-boy at the firm he had once owned. His former partner had become his boss. He couldn’t accept the situation and changed jobs. At his new workplace, they often sent him to Anatolia, to sell goods. His standard of living declined considerably. His financial situation never got back to its former state.

The ones who were drafted to the 20 military reserve classes 21 did their military service at the same time I did. These people were up to 30 years old and had been drafted before. During that period so many people were drafted that most of the families were left without men. Especially in small cities, only the old, women and children remained. Many years later, my father-in-law, Hayim Baruh, would tell us that he too had been sent to Askale. During that period, his wife was the one to support the family, taking care of both the business and home.

I spent the last years of my military service in Ankara. It was very cold there. Close to the time of my discharge, I got pneumonia. They took me to Ankara Gulhane Military Hospital [today’s Gulhane Military Medical Academy, founded as a military school and hospital in Topkapi, Istanbul in 1898 and transferred to Ankara in 1941.] I came very close to death. I remember the doctor having a consultation about me, as if I was an important case, with his students. Later, because a nurse gave me a wrong calcium shot, my arm was left damaged. Upon this, they gave me six months’ leave and sent me home. In this way, my military service ended in 1945. My brother Izak was drafted and sent to Sivas six months after my discharge.

I never met any refugees from Europe. Only before the war, in 1935-1936, I had heard that the Brod brothers, who were among the biggest textile traders of Sultanhamam, and of German Jewish origin, protected the Jewish factory owners, who had fled from the dreadful turn of events in Germany and come to Turkey. I also heard that the brothers had helped the ones who wanted to go to other countries.

The war years were tough years. The conditions in both civil and military life were really hard. People suffered under food scarcity. It wasn’t possible to find flour. Sugar and bread were bought by ration books. Raisins were used instead of sugar. There was blackout each night. We would cover our windows tightly with thick, dark curtains. We lived in fear that the Germans would attack any minute. Rumors were spread among the Jews, that gas chambers were being prepared in Edirne. [Editor’s note: After Germany occupied Greece and Bulgaria they were at the Turkish borders in Thrace and rumors were spreading that as soon as the Nazis arrived in Istanbul, they would use the ovens of the local Balat bakery, ‘Los Ornos de Balat’, to exterminate the Turkish Jewry. This created considerable anxiety among the latter, though the story, apparently was entirely without foundation.]

Sometime after I came back from the military, I started working at the Bedikoglu firm on Cakmakcilar Slope [the slope extending from Mercan to Beyazit in Eminonu], which was engaged in textile business. I measured the fabric rolls and sold the material. My boss was of Syrian origin. My salary was more satisfactory compared to the past. We were again living in Kuzguncuk.

All of my friends were Jewish. We weren’t members of any association or club. My greatest hobby was the cinema. On weekends we would go to the cinemas in Beyoglu, and then to the Greek pastry shop in Tepebasi, to eat a special kind of cake, ‘milfoy’ [‘millefeuille’ in French, a small layered cake made of puff pastry filled with custard and cream]. Cars were very rare. We would always use the ferry and the tram, and sometimes go in horse carriages. We didn’t go on holidays, but went swimming, to Buyukada [the biggest of the Prince Islands in the Sea of Marmara, near Istanbul], and met friends on Sundays.

My best friend was Izak Bonofiyel. He lived in Kuledibi [district around the Galata Tower in Istanbul]. He was two years younger than me. He was very tall. He was engaged to Suzan, who was one of our female friends, and got married before me. They had two sons. We couldn’t keep our close relationship after the military service was over. I think they now live in Nisantasi [district on the European side of Istanbul].

We especially met with my aunt Rashel very often. Because they lived in Yedikule we would first take the ferry from Kuzguncuk to Eminonu, and then get on the train in Sirkeci to go and see them. [Sirkeci is the main railway station on the European side for trains to and from Europe.]

After the War

When the state of Israel was founded in 1948, we felt so happy that we celebrated it like a festival. Especially the day the Israeli Consulate was opened in Taksim was worth participating. A large crowd had gathered. All of us were shouting ‘Long live Israel’, with Israeli flags in our hands. It was an unforgettable day. Turkey was one of the first countries to recognize Israel. I don’t know whether we could have this kind of public celebration today or not, if the same event was to take place again. During that period, a big immigration wave from Turkey to Israel took place. There was a lot of propaganda. Many of our acquaintances and relatives left. Some stayed, some returned many years later.

In time, especially after my son went to study at the university in Israel, the idea of emigrating started to take shape in our minds. We even started financial preparations for it. But we couldn’t make it, couldn’t change our way of life. The ones who went and returned depressed us. Life conditions weren’t easy there. We gave up. But we still go visiting the country every year.

I went on with my work at the Bedikoglu firm. Meanwhile, the government had made the keeping of an accounting book obligatory for all merchants. Upon this, a young man named Zeki Abaci, who had a degree in economics, was employed to do the job. Since I helped him, I started learning about accounting as time went by. I was quite eager for knowledge. I went to Bab-i-ali [a neighborhood near Eminonu, where a large number of bookstores and newspaper printing houses were located] to buy books on accounting. I expanded my knowledge. Zeki would check the things I did. He encouraged me by saying: ‘You can do this work. And I’m here, whenever you need me.’ I started to become known in the market. Within time the number of the firms whose accounting I did increased to 20. Back then we didn’t have calculators, and I would spend hours at night after dinner, trying to balance the books. When the first calculator appeared, I immediately bought one. I don’t remember the brand, but the second one I bought was a Facit [Swedish mechanical calculator, the first model came out as early as 1918]. My children grew up, listening to the sounds of this machine.

In business life I met some donme 22 people from Salonika, who were of Jewish origin, but had become Muslims later on. But none of them were my friends. Most of them knew Spanish. Their cemeteries were in a different place. They were in Uskudar-Bulbul Deresi [see Donme Cemetery in Uskudar] 23. All of them were well-educated and owned businesses. They were regarded as non-Muslims [by the state authorities] during the Wealth Tax period, and had become liable for the Wealth Tax.

I got engaged twice, after the military. But we didn’t get along, and I was separated from both of them. Later on, I got engaged to Bulisa Baruh, who was born in Tekirdag in 1932, through ‘proposition’ [arranged marriage]. My cousin Jak [derivative of Yaakov] Deleon introduced us. Jak’s wife Viktorya and Bulisa’s uncle Aron Ojalvo were siblings. Bulisa would sometimes come to Istanbul to visit her uncle. Once it was clear that we liked each other, my uncle Jozef Deleon and Bulisa’s father, Hayim Baruh, got together and came to an agreement. I received 3,000 liras as dowry. A few months later, my mother, my brother, my aunt Rashel and her husband Jozef, their son Cako [derivative of Yaakov] and his wife Viktorya, and my cousin Estreya, uncle Nisim Amon’s daughter, all went to Tekirdag by bus for the engagement. In those times, we could either go to Tekirdag by bus in four hours or by ship in six hours.

The Baruh family lived in the Jewish neighborhood. There, we were welcomed in a very nice way. The house was filled with friends and relatives, who had come to congratulate us. Long tables were set up, we ate and drank, and stayed over at their house for two days. Some of them went to my mother-in-law’s sister to stay over night, as there wasn’t enough space left for them to sleep. My uncle Jozef Deleon slipped our engagement rings on our fingers. I had brought a red heart-shaped box of chocolates, as a present. We were engaged for a year [before we got married].

Bulisa was educated up to the elementary level. During that period, Tekirdag wasn’t a developed city. Girls weren’t sent to secondary school, but were apprenticed to dressmakers to learn the job. My fiancee spoke Turkish and Spanish, and like all the other girls who grew up in the provinces, knew how to sew and do needlework. During our engagement period, she often came to Istanbul and stayed over at our place. Meanwhile, we had moved to a larger house – my brother, mother and I – again in Kuzguncuk.

Later on, we started calling my wife Berta, to be more modern. We would always speak Spanish amongst ourselves. My fiancee had five siblings, of which three were girls – Neli, Ester and Mari – and two were boys, Izak and Liya. Berta was the eldest of the siblings, and thus the biggest helper of her mother. She brought up the youngest one, Liya, or Eli.

My mother-in-law, Rebeka Baruh, was a housewife. She was very capable. She could do anything from planting seeds to cobbling, and from painting walls to sewing. At the same time she was very ‘aver livyana’ [Ladino for ‘humorous’].

My father-in-law, Hayim Baruh, was originally from the Island of Marmara [in the Marmara Sea]. He owned a textile and a grocery shop in Tekirdag. He worked together with his elder son, Izak.

Their house, located in the Jewish neighborhood, was two-storied. There was a big hall, a room, a large kitchen, and a toilet at the entrance. On the upper floor there was again a large hall and two rooms. The furniture was composed of a cupboard made out of wire, a table, a sofa, four or five chairs, and a few beds. They had a small garden, in which they planted vegetables. There was also a well in the garden. In order to keep the melons, watermelons and the drinks cool in summer, they would hang them in the well. They were middle-class people. My mother-in-law and my father-in-law always spoke Spanish. They knew the Rashi alphabet. They were moderately religious. They would celebrate the holidays and go to the synagogues. They didn’t pay much attention to Shabat.

As the years passed, all of my wife’s siblings except Liya got married when they were still quite young. Izak got married to Suzi Nasi, the daughter of the Jewish neighborhood’s chief in Tekirdag. They had two sons, Vitali and Yuda. They lived in Tekirdag for a long time. But when their children came to Istanbul for their education, and the Jewish population in Tekirdag started decreasing, they sold all their possessions, left Tekirdag and came to Istanbul to settle down here.

Neli got married to Jak Malki, a cheese manufacturer from Edirne, and went there as a bride. They had two sons, Beto and Vitali. They came to Istanbul for the same reasons I just mentioned, and at about the same time. The other two girls also came to Istanbul and settled down here.

Ester married Avram Mizrahi, from the same neighborhood, and Mari married Hayim Barokas, from Corlu [a city in Thrace]. Ester and her family lived in Kuledibi, while Mari and her family lived in Ortakoy. The Mizrahi family immigrated to Israel in 1968, after their two sons were born.

Mari had two daughters whose names were Suzi and Beti. But unfortunately she lost her husband at a very young age [in 1981], and then her elder daughter, who had leukemia, at the age of 23. She didn’t get married again. She lives with her daughter and grandchildren in Istanbul.

We used to go to Tekirdag with the children for 15 days in the summertime to visit my in-laws, when they were still living there. The other sisters would also come with their families, and the two-storied house would be filled up to the last mattress. It was delightful. Especially on Shabat mornings, when the men came home from the neighborhood’s synagogue, all the family would sit at the ‘dezayuno’ [breakfast] table, which was prepared by my mother-in-law, and had everything on in, from pastry to watermelons, and raki 24, cooled in the well. We could never get enough of it. Then we would go to the seashore, for long walks. We chatted with relatives and friends, who we met on the streets.

Years later, at the beginning of the 1970s, if I remember correctly, when my mother-in-law and my father-in-law learned that their youngest son, Liya, who had become a doctor and was in London then, had decided to emigrate to Israel, they decided to leave their business and house in Tekirdag to their eldest son, Izak, and emigrate to Israel. They did so and lived in Bat Yam till the end of their lives. Both of them died in 1981, 26 days apart from each other. Liya specialized in ophthalmology and became a very famous doctor [Dr. Eli Baruh], and the pride of the family.

Our official wedding ceremony took place in the Beyoglu registry office on a Saturday. Our close relatives didn’t leave us alone. Our witnesses were my uncle Jozef Deleon and Albert Eleviy, who was a very close family friend. We received a lot of flowers from our friends and colleagues. After the ceremony we gave out ‘bonbonyeras’ [wedding candies] to everyone. My wife wore a tailor-made black suit and a pink hat. She held a bouquet of gladioli in her hand.

Our wedding took place in accordance with our traditions in the Beth Yaakov Synagogue in Kuzguncuk. We were married on 31st December 1950. All of our relatives and friends attended the ceremony. Chela, the daughter of my cousin Cako and Viktorya, was the flower girl. They had her wear a long dress, which looked like the wedding-dress. Later on, all of us went to the Reks Studio in Kadikoy to have our photograph taken.

We had borrowed Berta’s wedding-dress, from our Greek family dressmaker, Eventiya, who lived in Yedikule. My mother had known her for years. When my mother went to Eventiya to have a wedding-dress made, she told my mother that her own, which she had sewn herself, was in quite a good condition. Upon this, my fiancee decided to try it on, and saw that the moiree gown fitted her as if it had been made for her. We rented my black tuxedo from the ‘Horozlu’ shop. This shop was in Tunel, on Galip Dede Street. It was a very old company. The owners were the Taragano family. Especially the Jewish men would rent what they needed such as a black tie, hat, gloves and bow ties for their weddings from this shop. The shop still exists today.

In the evening, we gave a dinner-party for all our relatives and friends at home. But after a few hours we left them at home and went to the Park Hotel in Yesilkoy, for our honeymoon. We stayed there for three days. It was one of the nicest hotels at the time.

My mother and my brother were living with us. Our house was quite big. My son, Yasef Jojo Coyas, was born on 3rd June 1952 at Zeynep Kamil Hospital in Uskudar. We had his brit milla at home. At that time, moel Geron used to perform these operations. A circumcision robe was sewn from crepe de Chine for the baby. My mother carried and placed him on a pillow which was on my uncle Nisim’s lap – finally the two siblings had become reconciled – and then the circumcision took place. All of our relatives and close friends were present at the ceremony. Later on, a big table was set up. We all dined together, and handed out candies, as had become the custom. He was the first grandchild of both families [the Baruh and Coyas family], and hence the darling of his uncles and aunts. He was a very naughty child. We sent him to the Mestra nearby, at the age of three. Atina, Marika and Pandeli, two Greek sisters and their brother, were looking after small Jewish children in their small and simple home. This was the only kindergarten facility in Kuzguncuk.

In the meantime, I had managed to buy a small refrigerator and an Orion brand radio for our home.

We had another son in 1954, who we named Hayim. But he was only able to live for a month, due to a sickness [intestine abnormality] from birth. He was at the hospital throughout this month, with his mother.

In 1955, I bought the second floor of a three-storey apartment building [Sumbul Apartments] that had been built in front of our home. We moved there.

In 1955, the events of 6th-7th September 25 happened. That day, my uncle Leon and his wife Lucienne, my cousin Kemal Deleon and his wife Merso, were over at our house for a visit. My wife was pregnant with our third child. All of a sudden, we heard noises coming from the street. When we went down, we saw that everything was in flames and that some people were attacking the homes of non-Muslims. At that time the newspapers published a second print run, saying that the Greeks had burnt Ataturk’s house in Salonika. The public was enraged. Our guests had left to go to the ferry station, but they came back upon witnessing the chaos. My uncle who was living in France said that ‘they had seen World War II, but nothing like that’. Our Turkish neighbors saved us from absolute disaster by telling the attackers that there weren’t any Greeks or Jews there, but only Muslims. They saved our lives. We all hung Turkish flags on our balconies in an attempt to prevent the attacks.

The next day we had to go to Beyoglu for some business. The scene was unbelievable. Shops had been burnt and looted. Silverware, furs, fabrics, refrigerators, furniture and many valuable goods were scattered in pieces on the muddy ground. All doors and windows were broken and stores had been looted. There were rumors of rapes in Yedikule, which had a large Greek population. Towards the evening, going out into the streets was banned, and tanks started patrolling the streets. But it was too late. It was witnessed that some people became rich in two days after the incidents. After a while, the Cyprus conflict 26 started.

My daughter, Fortune Tuna Saylag [nee Coyas], was born on 19th March 1956. She was also born at Zeynep Kamil Hospital. On the 40th day we had the vijola 27 at home. My daughter had black hair unlike my son. She was a better-behaved child, compared to her brother. She didn’t crawl on her knees, but on her bottom, by rubbing it from left to right over the floor. Everyone who saw her laughed. When she turned three, we also sent her to the Mestra.

My brother, Izak Coyas, was born in 1925 in our house in Yedikule, just like me. We grew up like twins. We lived through our childhood difficulties together. Though I was only two years older than him, he put me in place of our father. My mother also sent him to the Mestra, then to the Marko Pasha elementary school and the Mahaziketora. After his bar-mitzva, which took place at the Beth Nisim synagogue, he started working for a cap-dealer. After I came back from the military, he was drafted as a soldier and went to Sivas for 36 months. He lived with us till he got married. He got married in 1954, to Kadem Sevevi, the daughter of a family from Ankara, through proposition. He left us and settled down in an apartment with his wife, near our place.

In 1956 they had a son named Jojo, and then, in 1960, a daughter named Fortune. After a while, he bought the apartment below mine on the ground floor and became my neighbor. In this way, we were all together again. Our wives also got along very well. We lived in peace and love for years. We celebrated the holidays together, usually at my place. Our children grew up like siblings.

My brother was very fond of my son, Jojo, as he was his first nephew. He used to take him out quite a lot, especially when he was single. As he was a very patient person, who loved children very much, this habit of his continued after he had his own children. He would gather both mine and his children, and take them to the cinema, or to Luna Park [amusement park], or to the parks on Sundays. He would usually buy presents and have little surprises for them. My brother, in a way, was the Santa Claus for our children. His wife was like a second mother to my children. When I went on trips with my wife, we always left our children with them. My son and daughter would feel happy about our leaving instead of feeling sad.

Izak was engaged in the shirt trade with an Armenian partner at Cakmakcilar Slope for many years. They lived in Kuzguncuk till 1977. When the Jewish population in Kuzguncuk decreased, they sold their house there and moved to Caddebostan. He retired after marrying off his children. When they lost their daughter-in-law at a very young age to cancer, five years ago, they moved closer to his son, who had become a widower with two children, in order to support him. This went on till his wife Kadem had a stroke. Upon this, they returned to their home. His daughter immigrated to Israel with her family seven years ago. Our relation, based on love, is like in the old times. We visit them every week, on Saturdays.

In 1958, on the 10th anniversary of the foundation of the state of Israel, I went to ‘la Medina’ [Ladino for ‘The State’, here meaning Israel] for the first time. The country was developing slowly. Immigrants were being given encouraging rights [aid and support]. I visited relatives, and did some sightseeing.

I was very fond of traveling and seeing new places. We went on our first boat trip to the Mediterranean countries in 1962. From then on we spent all the summer holidays either going to Israel or visiting other countries. Most of the time, we would take the children with us.

We had a large and harmonious circle of friends in Kuzguncuk. We still meet with the ones who are still alive today. We would always speak Spanish among ourselves. All of our children were mostly the same age and would spend their time together. We would gather in our houses by turns on Saturday nights. We would have dinner, chat, play cards, and enjoy ourselves. The men would play poker and the women, cooncan. Our friend, Izak Franco, had a very nice voice. He would sing Greek songs or Turkish Classical Music, and we would listen to him with great pleasure. Sometimes we would go to the cinema, theater, or to the fish restaurants on the Bosphorus – mostly to the Kuyu Restaurant in Arnavutkoy, on the European side – or to night clubs that had music like Guney Park, Sato, and Gasgonyali Toma. There was the Sunar Cinema and the City State Theater, near our place, in Uskudar.

When the weather was good, we would go for picnics on Sundays, to Polonezkoy, Sile, Yakacik, and Kulaksiz. [Towns on the Anatolian side, within two hours’ reach of Istanbul.] We would also go to the Kucuksu Beach [a neighborhood on the Anatolian side of the Bosphorus, half an hour’s drive from Kuzguncuk] for swimming. When we went for picnics, each mother would prepare something to eat, like dry koftes [meat balls, popular in Turkey and the Balkans], stuffed peppers, and ‘filikas’ [Ladino term for flaky pastry, filled with cheese/minced meat/aubergines]. Then we would eat all together, sitting in the grass, in the open air. Our laughter and jokes could be heard all over the place.

We would usually get on the public bus, and go to Kanlica [a neighborhood on the Bosphorus, famous for its yoghurt], to eat yoghurt by the sea. Our children also had their share in all these trips. Neither of us had their own private cars, but we were so many that we rented either a bus or a minibus to go for picnics or swimming. We usually went to Yalova or Cinarcik [a town near Bursa, famous for its hot springs] all together, for holidays, and stayed there for seven to ten days. Especially in the spring, we would go to the Camlica Hill, to get some fresh air. In order to go to Camlica, we first climbed up a long, steep slope, which connected Kuzguncuk to Fistikagaci, then we took the tram to Kisikli, and then we would walk all the way to Camlica. Those places were untouched then. Istanbul’s population wasn’t as intense as it is today. There were no settlements or establishments on Camlica.

The Kuzguncuk hills, or Bella Vista, were also very nice. Especially the hill called ‘Three Pine Nuts’, taking its name from the three old and big pine-nut trees on it. We would go around the green fields and pick daisies and poppies. Today, instead of the green, you can see the slums covering the hills of Kuzguncuk.

We were always in contact with our relatives. We would always visit our elders, during the holidays, especially my uncle Nisim and my aunt, who used to live in Kadikoy. We used to meet with our siblings every week. I got along especially well with Hayim and Avram, my wife’s sisters’ husbands. Avram and Ester Mizrahi, used to live in Kuledibi, while Hayim and Mari Barokas lived in Ortakoy. Because we lived in Kuzguncuk, we always used the ferry to go the European side. The Bosphorus Bridge hadn’t been constructed yet.

We were carrying on with our traditions, celebrating Purim, Hanuka [Chanukkah], Kipur [Yom Kippur] and all the other holidays. We would go to the synagogue during Pesah and Rosh Ashana, we would get together with my brother, and the two families would have the holiday meal at our house. The usage of loksa didn’t exist anymore. We would chant the Agada [Haggadah] for two nights at Pesah. Special dishes were prepared for the holidays. My wife could cook very well, just like her mother. I liked albondigas de prasa [leek meatballs] the most.

Usually we didn’t pay much attention to the kasherut [kashrut], but we never ate trefa meat during the holidays. We didn’t pay much attention to Shabat either, but usually our wives wouldn’t cook or work on Saturdays.

On Shabat days a different atmosphere prevailed in Kuzguncuk. After having breakfast at home, the Jewish ladies would put on some make-up and their most stylish dresses and go out for a walk. The public watched them in admiration. The ladies would go to the tea house near the ferry station and would watch the sea, while eating pumpkin seeds, and chatting. Everybody knew that the day was special for Jews.

Because we didn’t know how they would react, and whether or not they shared our feelings, we didn’t speak about Judaism or Israel with the broad public. We spoke Spanish and Turkish with our children. But they always replied in Turkish to us. They understand Spanish very well, but can’t speak it well enough.

We buried our elders in the Jewish cemeteries and had religious ceremonies. We chanted the Kadish ourselves. In the old times, we would say the yearly prayers for the souls of those we lost at home, and we would have dinner afterwards. But in recent years we have been doing this in the synagogue because we have grown too old [to organize it at home].

My boss closed down the shop in 1963 and emigrated to the United States. I opened up a new store and took over the customers. I knew most of them anyways. I also started running an accounting office at the same place.

At the beginning of the 1970s, the good middle-class families of Kuzguncuk started to leave the place slowly because migration had started to Kuzguncuk, and the quality of the people who came wasn’t the same. Some of the Jews moved to Moda, others to Sisli, which was the most popular neighborhood at the time. The ones who didn’t want to leave the Anatolian side, preferred Kadikoy and its vicinity. The old way of living didn’t exist anymore. We moved to Nisantasi reluctantly, after a while, when all of our friends had left Kuzguncuk. Our house there was on rental. Our daughter was happy with this situation, because she was close to both her school and her friends.

We started going to Buyukada in the summer. We used to rent a house, which belonged to a Greek baker, near the ferry station. Some of our friends were also here. We weren’t members of a club. Generally we would swim, or sit in tea gardens in the open air and chat. Since there weren’t any motor vehicles, the air was calm and clean. It was the women and the young who enjoyed the place most. Our summer adventure lasted for five or six years, till our daughter got married. Later on we moved to Caddebostan, and hence didn’t go to a summer house any more.

Probably because I hadn’t been able to study, I attached as much importance to my children’s education as I could. My son started to study at the Marko Pasha School when he reached the age of elementary school education. Anyway, we didn’t have any other school in our neighborhood. Meanwhile, he attended the Mahaziketora three times a week. All of his friends were from here. He started to attend the private Tarhan College, which had just opened then, after finishing elementary school. The curriculum concentrated on teaching English. In those times, the Jewish school in Sishane, Bene Berit was how people used to call it, wasn’t very good.

We celebrated my son’s bar-mitzva in 1965, in the Beth Yaakov Synagogue in Kuzguncuk. His uncle Liya prepared his speech. All the family bought new outfits for this special day. My wife had the dressmaker Evantiya sew a new dress for her to wear at the synagogue and the festive dinner, given at night. She rented her hat from the famous hat-dealer Katya in Beyoglu. The synagogue was filled with our friends, relatives and neighbors. We gave out candies at the end of the ceremony. We also entertained our close friends at a dinner party, which we gave at the Lido Hall in Ortakoy. It was summer and hence the party took place outside, near the pool. The guests were entertained with dance music played by an orchestra. Lido was among the most popular entertainment halls of the time. I danced the first dance with my daughter, while my wife danced with our son.

At that time, my wife’s youngest brother, Liya, was studying medicine in Istanbul. He was living with us, while his family was in Tekirdag. He was like a son to us. He graduated from the Faculty of Medicine the same year my son graduated from High School, in 1969. [see English High School for Boys] 28 We decided to send both of them to a language school in London, in order for them to improve their English. We arranged the school and the places where they would stay. I went with them and helped them to get settled. A year later, my son and his uncle informed us that they had decided to go to Israel and continue with their studies there. Two years before that, my son had joined a 45-day trip, organized by the Israeli Consulate for the presentation of Israel, and had come back very impressed by Medina. During that period, many young people were emigrating. Also at that time, a lot of confrontations were taking place, between the rightist and leftist students at the universities in Turkey. [see Terror at Turkish universities] 29 It was impossible to get a proper education here.

My son graduated from the Sociology Department of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem 30. In 1981 he married Melek Gundogan, a pharmacist from Adana. We had the wedding in Israel, in a Sephardic Kal [synagogue] on Allenby [a major street in Jerusalem.]. Afterwards we had a dinner party for our guests in the hall of the synagogue. All of our friends and relatives came to the wedding, but nobody was able to come from Turkey, except for my daughter.

Today they have a 19-year-old daughter called Lisa and an 18-year-old son called Shmuel. My son is working in the administrative department of a hospital and his wife in a pharmacy. They live in Bat Yam. My grandson has just finished high school. He will start his military service in two months. We visit them frequently.

My daughter Fortune Tuna went to the newly opened Uskudar Turkish Girls College for her elementary education. She was hard-working like her brother. Then she took entrance exams for a few private French schools. She passed them all, but we preferred the Saint-Benoit Girls High School because the transportation situation was easier.

When my daughter was a young girl, the friends she hung out with were all Jewish. She used to go to Judaic clubs like Amical 31 and take part in their social activities. She would organize parties and quizzes, and perform in plays at these clubs. After finishing high school with a good grade, she took her university entrance exams. She was admitted to the Business Administration Department of Marmara University. In the meantime she was dating Albert Baruh Saylag, whom a relative had introduced to her. After four of five months his family came and asked for our permission for their son to marry her. We accepted, and they got engaged.

My son-in-law had graduated from the Pharmaceutical Faculty shortly before. His father was a gynecologist. They lived in Fenerbahce [a district on the Asian side of Istanbul]. He worked in the State Railroads Hospital. His wife didn’t work.

At the end of 1975, we agreed to this marriage. Immediately after that my son-in-law went first to Samsun and then to Bandirma, to complete his military duty of 18 months as an officer. We performed the engagement ceremony in the house, within the family, in April 1976. My uncle Nisim, who was still alive then, slipped the rings on their fingers.

Because of the situation in the universities in those days, we didn’t want our daughter to continue going to school. But she insisted and started university. Her wedding took place on 9th October 1977 when she was in her second year. Before the wedding, my daughter and I went to Paris. In this way, we were able to make a trip together while she was still single. They got married at the Neve Shalom Synagogue. 32 It was a very nice and crowded ceremony. Everyone was excited because this was the first wedding in the family. My son in Israel and some relatives had come to Istanbul for the wedding. We gave a dinner party for friends and relatives at the Tarabya Hotel. There was also live music. Everyone danced and had fun. The newly-weds went to Izmir for their honeymoon.

We moved to our new apartment in Caddebostan after the wedding. The apartment below us was vacant. My daughter and son-in-law rented it. We watched our grandchildren grow up. As the conditions didn’t permit it, my son-in-law couldn’t work in his field, and started working for a company owned by three Jewish partners involved in selling tires. He is still working there. My daughter didn’t work since her husband didn’t want her to. Their first daughter, Sara Selin, was born in 1980, and their second daughter, Lisya, in 1984.

My family is an inseparable part of the Turkish Jewish Community. Maybe we are not very religious, but we have a very strong feeling of belonging. I believe we have passed this feeling on to our children and grandchildren, too. My daughter and grandchildren are members of many Jewish organizations, like GKD 33, and FKD 34. They spend their spare time there doing voluntary work. They organize parties, conferences and theater shows with their friends, and educate children. My daughter writes articles on art for the Jewish newspaper, Shalom. 35

We are members of a nearby Jewish club [Goztepe Cultural Association]. We frequently take part in the activities, like going to concerts and the theater, celebrating the holidays, but are not working actively.

The way I practice religion hasn’t changed. However, my son-in-law and grandchildren have been following the kasherut laws for seven or eight years.

I go to the synagogue on holidays or whenever there is a religious ceremony. My wife gathers the family frequently. She cooks traditional Sephardic dishes she has learned from my and her own mother, and teaches her grandchildren how to make them. Previously we would be more people getting together on holidays. My son-in-law’s parents’ uncle and aunt would join us too. Since we lost them, except the aunt, the number of people has decreased. Sometimes we go to Israel to my son’s, to celebrate Pesah.

My wife meets with her friends twice on weekdays, and plays cards. Other than that, we spend our time together. We go to restaurants, to the theater, and shopping. Sometimes we gather at home with friends and chat or watch television. We go on vacation in summer. We mostly go to a hotel on the beach. We can’t go abroad as much as we used to, due to our age.

Four days a week, between 10am and 3pm, I go to a friend’s shop and do the accounting. The purpose is to get out of the house.

I had a serious heart attack after a Far East trip in 1995. I’ve been through very hard times. They treated me with the ‘balloon’ method [percutaneous transluminal coronary angioplasty]. That same year I sold my shop and retired.

The synagogue attacks in 1986 [see 1986 Terrorist Attack on the Neve-Shalom Synagogue] 36 and 2003 [see 2003 Bombing of the Istanbul Synagogues] 37 were terrible. Innocent people unaware of anything were killed. We lost friends in both incidents. We felt so sad, and miserable.

At this age my and my wife’s only expectation from life is good health and the well-being of our children and grandchildren. I think that our grandchildren have a bright future. They are both well-educated, responsible young girls. Selin works as an architect, and Lisya is on her way to becoming a mathematician [computer programmer].

And our duty is to live the life God has assigned to us, without being a burden to anyone.

GLOSSARY:

Lina Franko
Istanbul
Turkey
Date of Interview: August 2004
Interviewer: Feride Petilon

I started speaking to Lina Franko, on a hot August morning, in Burgazada. She didn’t need to hurry, but she wanted to meet her friends in the afternoon. It wouldn’t be that bad if she had time for swimming in between. Lina Franko is still full of life, in spite of the 20 years she has spent alone. She has become the favorite of both her family and friends, with the positive outlook she has. Both problems and happiness can be shared with Lina. The aim is to ease the problems while increasing happiness. When we had lunch together, she said “it’s not appropriate for the young ones to pay the bills, when they are with their elders”, and thus I was treated. The tape was recording, but I guess she told me most of it over the phone, as she remembered and remembered. I guess she had become pretty occupied with telling me her life’s documentary.

My family background

Growing up

My husband Isak

Family life

Recipes

Glossary

My family background

My paternal grandmother’s father, Haskiya Hatem, was undersecretary to a chief rabbi who had been awarded a medal by the sultan. The sultan used to reward those who proved themselves useful to him with a medal. The chief rabbi and his advisors ran the community. These advisors were called undersecretaries. I don’t remember anything much more.

My father’s side of the family was from Istanbul. My father’s father, Salamon Baruh, used to work at a glassware shop in Beyoglu [a fashionable district in Istanbul with the street named Pera running in the middle of it] named “Karako”. “Istiklal Caddesi” [this very fashionable street that ran from Taksim Square till Tunel was then called “Pera”], the trade center of Istanbul, where foreign firms and shops selling foreign goods were located, was the busiest street of the city. During those days, working at a big shop brought with it an organized life. Being in charge of a warehouse or working as a cashier at a big shop was regarded as a respected career and was enough to support the family. Not everyone needed to become a merchant. Salamon Baruh, by taking advantage of the privilege granted to non-muslims had not performed his military service. 1 Salamon Baruh, had two more sisters, named Rebeka and Lea. Rebeka married Hayim Musabak, and they never had any children. On the other hand, Lea married the son of a very wealthy family, named Bohoraci Ravuna.

My paternal grandmother, Rashel Baruh (née Hatem), was from Daghamam. Daghamam, was in the hilly part of Kuzguncuk. [a neighborhood on the Anatolian side. It is across Ortakoy, which is on the European side. Both of the neighborhoods lie along the Bosphorus]. The Jewish people living in Daghamam either moved to Haydarpasha [an important neighborhood of Istanbul. All the trains that go to Anatolia, depart from this centeral train station, located in the neighborhood.] or to Ortakoy, due to the fire which broke out in the neighborhood. According to the reports of the time, this fire, which broke out in the 1915’s, was a big disaster. The firebrigade was not able to arrive in time, and thus the wooden houses were burnt down like dominoes, thus leaving many families homeless. According to my grandmother; when everybody was trying to save something in panic, a woman was trying to save her iron. Who knows, the reaction of her husband to an unironed shirt, may have crossed her mind!

Rashel Baruh had two brothers, named Rafael Hatem and Albert Hatem, and two sisters, named Sara Aruete and Recina Kordovero. Sara Aruete died during a cholera epidemic.

Recina Kordovero, on the other hand, emigrated to Buenos Aires with her husband. After World War I 2, the Ottoman Empire of the time was regarded as a “sick man”. [Editor’s note: The Ottoman Empire was called ‚The sick man of Europe‘ much earlier, in the second half of the 19th Century. Due to Anglo-French efforts the great power status of the Empire was maintained up until WWI, although most of its European territories had already been lost to various countries (Russia, Austria-Hungary, Serbia, Greece, Romania, Bulgaria, Albania, etc.) prior to WWI. Hence the name.] The economy had collapsed, while the fall of the empire was about to be declared. Planning a future under these circumstances, in this country, had become a dream for some people. Under these conditions several families emigrated to many parts of the world. The continent of America became the main center of this emigration. The ties with the ones who emigrated to America were broken off in a short period of time.

Rashel Baruh was a well-respected and liked lady in spite of her minimal education. She had finished primary school, in the Jewish Primary School in Uskudar. There was hardly a person who didn’t know Rashel Baruh in Ortakoy.  She helped everyone. I remember her listening to many people’s problems patiently. Besides, she was the first to volunteer for duties which could be regarded as “mitzva” [mitzvah], like washing the dead or looking after sick people. She had an effective role in my life, too. They had asked me whom I would like to take with me to the hospital, for my first child’s delivery. I had said that I’d like to have my grandmother with me, of course. The one to hold my hand should be my grandmother. My mother could wait for the news at home.

Salamon Baruh, my father’s father, the husband of my grandmother Rashel Baruh, was a well-respected man. He also used to work at the Karako Shop, in Beyoglu. His father-in-law had probably employed him. But Salamon Baruh died of a sudden heart attack at a young age. He couldn’t see any of his children’s weddings. For this reason, my grandmother would only dress in dark colors. She didn’t wear a scarf or a “yemeni” [a turkish scarf with embroidered borders], and would comb her hair into a bun, which was called a “kurulika”. Rashel Baruh died in 1963. She stayed at the Or-Ahayim Hospital 3 for a year before she died. She had broken her hipbone and that was a common enough thing to happen to old people in those days.  I went to the hospital two or three times a week from the day she was hospitalized till the day she died. Sometimes, when I want to remember my mother, my grandmother comes to my mind, and this makes me get angry at myself.

One of the family members whom I remember well is my grandmother’s late sister, Rebeka Musabak’s husband, Hayimachi Musabak.  Hayimachi had refused to live with his own family and had chosen to live with his wife’s family for many years. We followed the Kasherut [kashrut] and the Shabat [shabbath] rules strictly in my childhood’s home in Ortakoy. I guess this made him take this decision. The religious rules were followed in the Hatem and Baruh families, and Judeo-Spanish was spoken as the mother-tongue. My grandmother’s late sister’s husband would wear a “kipa”, and put on his “tefillin” every morning, and sometimes put on an “entari”. [“entari” is the turkish word for “robe”.  These robes, worn by men, were long shirts reaching the knees. This was an Ottoman tradition.] We lived to the full but without haste, in love and peace in this house of my childhood in Ortakoy. I guess this atmosphere, which we had at home, accounted for the real reason behind this gentleman’s choice.

Rashel Baruh had four children. Belina Baruh died at the age of five from uremia. I was named after her.

My grandmother’s elder daughter Anet married Albert Uziyel. The Uziyel family, immigrated to Israel in 1935. The Uziyels had a liberal family outlook. They were conservative but not especially religious. Festivals were celebrated, and Shabat was respected. They went to Israel during its foundation years and faced many difficulties there. Albert Uziyel even opened up a kiosk but unfortunately, he couldn’t run it for a long time. Anet supported the family by taking on sewing work at home for a while. Anet Uziyel had three daughters named Sheli, Beki, Lili. Beki and Lili still live in Israel, while Sheli lives in Austria. My cousin Sheli had a stamp collection which belonged to her husband. This collection consisted of the stamps which had been attached to letters written by soldiers to their families during the war. My cousin, Beki made her first marriage to a gentleman she met in Israel. She sent her grandmother their wedding picture. This was a very traditional mode of behavior. But the gentleman she married had problems which created a lot of problems in the marriage.  (I suppose he had sexual problems). My cousin divorced that man.  Her maternal grandmother, Rashel Baruh, who is my paternal grandmother, cut the groom out of the wedding picture, when she heard the news. Beki, made her second marriage to a gentleman named Mishel Saul and found happiness. Beki and Mishel had two children named Edna and Beni. Beni worked as a manager at one of the branches of Bank Hapoalim in Israel. He had a son and a daughter. He got divorced after having been married for 28 years. On the other hand, Edna has an extraordinary life story. She didn’t get married till the age of 38. She became pregnant from her boyfriend at 38. Her boyfriend was against her giving birth to the baby. Edna thought that this was her last chance and though the boyfriend rejected the child, she gave birth to him. Today this boy, named Mishel is a 19-year-old young man, and though his father is still alive, he doesn’t know him. And the father doesn’t want to see him either.

Rashel Baruh’s middle son, Rafael Baruh, used to live in Ortakoy, and was educated in Bene Berit [Bnai Brith] [Jewish Lycee] 4. He met Viktorya Hodara in Ortakoy, and got married again in Ortakoy. Salti Franko, a businessman living in Ankara, offered a job for Rafael Baruh, at his textile shop. In this way, Rafael Baruh and Viktorya Baruh, moved to Ankara. I used to spend most of my summer holidays in Ankara, when I was a teenager. The life in Ortakoy, was like a village life for me. Everybody knew each other, and lived together like siblings whether they were Greek, Turkish, or Jewish. On the other hand, you could smell the city life in Ankara. Aunt Viktorya was such a lady, who dressed up in a very stylish manner, and who never removed her corset. Even the gatherings held in Ankara, were not like the ones in Ortakoy. There was much more protocol in Ankara. There was even a secret competition between my mother, and aunt Viktorya. I guess the difference between the husbands’ income levels, was the cause of this competition. My father worked at a bank, while his brother was among the prominent merchants of Ankara. Rafael-Viktorya Baruh had their first son in 1931. They named him Selim after Rafael Baruh’s father’s name, Salamon Baruh. And they had their second son whom they named Erol in 1937. Erol finished Saint Joseph [French catholic high school], while Selim finished Robert College 5, both in Istanbul. In 1956, the government declared that merchants’ accounts would be more stringently monitored.  Rafael Baruh, and his family, sensing this coming pressure on his business, emigrated to Paris, in the year of 1958. Selim and Erol completed their higher education in Paris. Erol became an electronics engineer, while Selim became a decorator. Erol married a French lady, named Nicole, and had a son named David. After getting divorced, he made his second marriage with a designer named Eti. Selim had two sons from his first marriage. After getting a divorce from his first wife, he had a long secret relation with a lady whom he met while decorating her house. He married her after a while and settled down. Everyone married a Jewish spouse in the Baruh family up till now. Rafael and Viktorya died in Paris. My cousins, Erol and Selim, still residein Paris.

When it comes to my mother’s side, I know that they are from Edirne.  My mother’s father David Mitrani, had a very humorous and a cheerful nature. He made his living from his winery. Judeo-Spanish was also the mother tongue of this family who were not very religious. My mother, Fortune Baruh, came from Edirne at the age of three. She didn’t tell me anything about her life in Edirne. The most important thing I know about this family who are of Thracian origin, is that they were highly cultured. At the same time, the Mitrani family was famous for their humorous nature. Even my cousin Josef Sarfati (the son of my mother’s sister Virjini Sarfati), was invited over to friends’ gatherings on Saturday evenings, just to entertain them. His wife, Rozet Sarfati, was not very happy about this stituation at all.

My mother’s mother Simbul was also a housewife and of Edirne origin. I don’t have much information about the grandmother. Simbul Mitrani’s sibling married someone, bearing the surname Seni, and became a teacher at a primary school.

My father Josef Baruh’s name was Yasef Mishon Baruh. [in his documents]  He was born in 1902, and died in 1982. He belonged to a part in the society of the time, which could have been regarded as being intellectual. He was educated in Saint Joseph. [A French catholic high school] My father worked at an Italian bank called Banco di Roma [Bank of Rome], and didn’t do any other work in his life. Josef Baruh would go to work carrying a walking stick, and wearing a derby on his head, and “getr” on his socks. [In Turkish this is an ornamental chain worn on the upper part of the socks]. My mother did not like him carrying the walking stick at all. She said that this made him look old. Josef Baruh paid and served in the military for a shorter period of time.  He worked as a cleaner at a Military Hospital during his military service. I remember my father as a literary man with a beautiful handwriting. There was also a book named “Bareme” [classification system], which my father had written. He had written this book which consisted of mathematical charts providing more convenient methods for the conversion of foreign currencies. He stayed awake late at night in order to complete the book. By the time the book was published, people had begun to use calculating machines, and did not find the book as helpful as expected. He was terribly disapointed that his efforts had been in vain. His sensitive nature couldn’t handle this, he got sick, and was diagnosed with the Parkinson disease in 1945. In those years, the Parkinson disease wasn’t that known. There was no treatment for the disease, and nothing to stop it from spreading. I felt very sad when this diagnosis was made.  It was very painful for me to think of such a well-spoken man with such beautiful handwriting, as my father losing his abilities. He would prepare all the billboards that hung on the walls in my class during the “Domestic Goods Week” [Entertaining events were prepared at schools to encourage the students to use Turkish products, and to prevent them from fancying European goods. Children were thought to eat fruits grown in Turkey.] In this way, I had become popular amongst my teachers. My father regularly read a lot of books. He used to put his initials on every book he read to prevent them from being read for the second time. The newspapers of the time, like Journal D’Orient 6 and Stamboul 7 were delivered till Ortakoy, just for my father and his few friends.

When he retired from the Banco di Roma, my father was given a medal, depicting Romulus and Remus, symbols of Rome. Only, my husband went to that ceremony. Neither the wives nor the daughters were invited to such ceremonies at that time. The women did not take part in the social life fully yet. They didn’t participate in business relations either. I have kept the medal for years and have given it to my son now for it to be passed on to future generations. My son placed it in a nice corner at his house. My father went to my husband’s office for long years after he retired. He took care of the correspondence work in my husband’s office. And my husband benefited from my father’s banking and foreign language knowledge. My father regularly took his lunch box with him. He never ate outside. Eating outside would be an unnecessary expense and also harm the stomach. When the meals were prepared the amount of food needed for the lunch boxes the next day was taken into consideration. Very rarely, when food was not available, then he would eat a rice pudding from the sweet shop

My mother Fortune Baruh (née Mitrani) had five siblings. Virjini Mitrani married Moiz Sarfati and had two children named Zelda and Josef.

Klara Mitrani married Moiz Habib, and had two children, named Viktor and Edit.

The two brothers, Salamon and Moris Mitrani immigrated to America. Establishing their future abroad in order to earn more money was a prevailing thought during those days. Actually it is always said “to America”, but one of the brothers first went to Cuba and then to Mexico. They never came back to Istanbul. In this sense, my mother was separated from her siblings at a very young age and never saw them again. Their father went to America only once to see his sons. We learned from the news seldom received that they were also married and had children. From time to time small presents came from these siblings. We were informed when Salamon and Moris died. My mother went to the synagogue and did kriah for her brothers whom she never remembered, and mourned for seven days [shivah, in Ladino siete] by dressing in black [contrary to the Muslim and the Ashkenazi tradition the Ottoman and Turkish Sephardim wear black for morning] . Their children, on the other hand, came to Istanbul and found us, in other words their cousins. Though the siblings hadn’t been in contact, the cousins met each other.

My mother Fortune Mazalto Baruh, was educated in Istanbul after finishing primary school in Edirne. She received her diploma, from Alliance Israelite Universelle 8, called “Grand Brevet” [the big diploma].  My father had a colleague named Monsieur Seni, at the bank. Monsiuer Seni thought my father Josef Baruh and my mother Fortune Mitrani would be well-suited for each other. My mother got married and settled down in Ortakoy, when the families consented to this marriage. My mother never flirted with my father. My mother felt very happy when my daughter had a son, and dedicated herself to him. She would express her love by saying “ I didn’t know what love meant until I fell in love with Meyir (the name of my daughter’s son).

The wedding took place in the synagogue in Ortakoy one Friday during the spring months of the year 1928. (my mother never knew the exact date, she would only say that the weather was warm). There was a special excitement about weddings on Fridays. Everything had to be finished before the Shabat [shabbath], and they had to be home on Friday evening. We didn’t have any photographs taken after the wedding, in order not to violate the Shabat. That is why my mother doesn’t have a picture of herself with her wedding gown on. According to what my mother says, they went to a hotel in Yenikoy to spend their honeymoon. They rented one room for themselves, and one room for my grandmother. My mother has never forgotten this event and she still hasn’t forgiven her mother-in-law for it. How funny it seems today, a mother-in-law going on the honeymoon with the newly-wed couple.

Actually, my mother spent very nice days in Ortakoy. But she was a woman who was never quite satisfied with her own circumstances. I guess she was a litle bit ambitious, while my father was a very calm man in return. Though my mother always says, that her mother-in-law had ordered her to work, I always remember my grandmother doing the work. My mother was a very affectionate person, but she showed her affection only to the ones whom she loved. She was cold towards the others. She didn’t like being friends with everyone. Those she loved, she loved with all her heart, and wouldn’t hesitate to make any sacrifices for them. She was never able to get over my father being diagnosed with the Parkinson disease, and said that this disease affected her life very much. She was very skilled at cooking. But she wasn’t open to innovations. For this reason, in a good menu, there had to be “borekas” [Sephardic pastry filled with different kinds of fillings, either sweet or salty, like cheese, eggplants, potatoes or walnuts], not crepe. But in return she was very open-minded. She had both welcomed my son’s and my daughter’s flirts very nicely and provided them with comfort at home so that they would come and go without any hesitation. She said that she did this in the name of getting to know them better. But she couldn’t keep herself from asking each time “de quelle famille il/ elle est” meaning “which family is she/he from”. She liked getting dressed very much. She dyed her hair till six months before her death. She always had her manicure and pedicure done. She died in the year of 1992. 

Growing up

I was born in a neighborhood of Istanbul, called Ortakoy in 1929. I wasn’t named after my paternal grandmother as was the tradition, but was named after my father’s sister who had died at a very young age. [In the Sephardic tradition, the first girl born in the family is named after her father’s mother, the first boy after his father’s father, the second girl after her mother’s mother, and the second boy after her mother’s father] I’m the only daughter of this family. When I asked my mother about why I didn’t have any siblings, she used to reply: “la situation ke ofre la Banco di Roma no permetiya de azer otra kreyatura” meaning “the financial rewards which Banco di Roma offered did not permit us to have another child”. In the beginning I accepted this answer, but later on as I thought of even poorer families who had more children but who never starved and even went onto higher education, I decided that my mother was a little bit unfair. I even found my mother more unfair when I saw that my life style wasn’t even close to being poor. My father, from time to time, received some bonus or shopping tickets from the bank. He brought home food which was called delicacy with these tickets. Some examples of the delicacy are: Likorinos, lakerda [salted fish varieties], Gruyere [yellow French cheese] and Roquefort cheese, kalamata olives, and canned sardines. But within the years, I sometimes thought “I’m lucky to have no siblings, taking care of this mother and father is my duty.”

The house I grew up in is the same house my mother came to as a bride in Ortakoy. It was three-storeyed, and we always had electricity and running water. This house and the three other similar ones, were bought by selling a very valuable diamond bracelet of Rasel Baruh. While the Baruh family lived in one of them, in the three others lived some Muslim tenants. The relations with these neighbors were very good. But once when one of these neighbors said: “Of all the Jews I like you the best”, I felt uneasy. I took this to mean that “if he liked us more, he must like the others less”. From then on, I felt little bit heart-broken towards those neighbors.

I had a childhood full of quite nice memories. We would gather in the gardens, and play games. At night girls and boys, Muslim or not, would gather and play hide-and-seek with a piece of wood. We would spin a big piece of wood in the middle, and try to hide ourselves till it stopped spinning, then the “it” [the one to close his eyes] would open his eyes, and start searching for us. Throughout Ramadan [Muslim month of fasting] we would gather around the mosque and sing all together during Iftar [the end of Ramadan], when all the lights were on. These songs were children songs at first, then became the popular songs of the time.

During the summer months, my mother would take me to the place of today’s Cıragan Palace to swim. She couldn’t swim, but I learned how to swim in the Bosphorus.

Not every household had radios in those times. Our neighbors had one in their house, and we would listen to the “children’s hour” on Saturday mornings over at their house.

I was a well-liked student in the 29th Primary School in Ortakoy. One of my teachers who liked me very much wanted to call me by her own name, Yıldız. The name “Kemal” was given to Mustafa Kemal Ataturk 9 also by his teacher. My teacher must have been inspired by this event. My father didn’t favor this situation much, but for a while I was called Yıldız at school. My teacher would invite me to her house and treat me as if I was her own daughter. My father wasn’t very happy about this intimacy. He would politely turn down my teacher’s offers to have me over at her summer house. I often took part in the plays at school, and was found to be succesful. Today, if they ask me what I would like to be if I could be born again I would say “an announcer”. This is probably due to my memories from my school years. My Muslim friends’ mothers used wear a black scarf first when I was in the primary school. Later on, they started using colored ones. And most of them uncovered their heads as a result of the Ataturk reforms. 10 For this reason, I have a big love for Ataturk and secularity.

Ataturk’s death holds a special place in my memories. That morning, on the 10th of November in 1938, we saw the teachers running all of a sudden. They gathered us in the garden. The eyes of the teachers were swollen from crying. First, they told us to take out our white collars and then they sent us home. A mourning atmosphere was also prevailing at home. I remember all the students having been taken to Dolmabahce Palace [Ataturk’s residence at the time], and everybody crying. I also remember memorizing Ataturk poems. We were all crying as we passed in front of his body.

During our childhood, respect and love in our relations with our neighbors was important. We would all dine together under the pergola in the gardens during the summer months.

During my childhood, a washerwoman [a woman to do the washing only at a time when there were no washing machines] came to our house regularly. The name of this woman was Simbul, and she was Jewish. I have two memories related to this issue. I was the only daughter of the family who didn’t eat much food. My father would find and bring home the best of everything. The washerwoman had a daughter with red cheeks.  My mother asked her enviously what she gave her daughter to eat. She replied that she dipped bread into the coffee grounds which she had drunk before and gave this to her in the morning, and she shared with her daughter the food she was given at the houses where she worked.  In this way, they felt very sad, because I was very thin, though they were all paying very much attention to me.

This woman also worked at the community affairs. My grandmother was a very understanding woman. One day, while the woman was washing the laundry, news came that a corpse had to be washed. The woman left her work and started to prepare to go. As she was about to leave, my grandmother asked her whether she would also wash her nicely when she died. The washing maid said: “Si, a si biva la madam, de alma i de korason” meaning of “course madam, I’ll do it with all my heart.”

My father wasn’t religious. He would only go to the synagogue during the festivals and would not especially chant morning or Shabat prayers. The religious one was my grandmother Rashel Baruh. The festival she liked most was Pesah. Loksa was taken out during the Pesah Festival. I was asked to prepare the sugar, the salt, and the meat. The meat mills came out and all this was a very hard job. (These were hand grinders. The sugar and salt came as blocks, while meat came in large pieces. We crushed the salt and the sugar separately with knives. And we minced the meat. This process was done during Pesah time so that the salt, sugar and meat would be kosher). Anyways, I used to spend all my time with my mother and grandmother. Besides, I also believed that this was the way to be, as if there was no other way to be. We would knit and do embroidery together, and often welcome guests. Our house was located at a corner, which made everyone drop by. We had guests almost everyday. The guests who came in the afternoons would play card games with the family members. “Pastra”, a kind of “Pishti”, “Kunkam”, and “7.5” were among the card games which were played. There used to be three jars at home filled with 3 different types of cookies: cheese, vanilla, and blackpepper. When they were finished, my grandmother would make new ones. I still have this tradition going on at my home. When my daughter was young, her friends who came to visit would go after the jars and eat the cookies which my mother had made as “ke se tope” [a term in Ladino meaning “to have something at home to offer/ to eat”] I was glad to see the children happy. My friends like the blackpepper cookies, which I make quite often.

The sweaters which we knitted one winter were quite liked, and then we received orders from our neighbors. The three of us got together and completed the orders. And of course, we were paid in return. My mother was not happy about taking money and she distributed all of it to the poor.  At that time, knitting for money wasn’t acceptable behavior.

Our Turkish bath sessions were another story. We went to the “hamam” [turkish bath] once a month, for sure. But we never carried the hamam bag ourselves. The hamam bag was sent to the hamam the day before and was brought home by the “tellaks”, [bath attendants] afterwards. I have a memory related to this issue. One day, they took my cousin Erol, who had come from Ankara, to the hamam. My cousin looked at the hamam with eyes full of surprise and said:“How big my grandmother’s bathroom is!”

We would go out into the garden from the ground floor of the house we lived in.  My father, Josef Baruh took care of the soil, and planted flowers and vegetables. My father used to hoe the soil in order to receive better output, with the climate changing every season. He had to use mattock and shovel during his military service in the 20 military reserve classes 11. I can’t forget the words he said during the night he was called drafted, which were “I don’t want to see this night end”. My father did his military service in a district of Balıkesir, named Sındırgı. Sındırgı is sorrounded with mountains, and a dry, land climate prevails there. I wanted to give him a hug when he came back after eight months, but Iwasn’t allowed. First, he had to take off all of his clothes, and go to the hamam, because he had got infested with lice in that place he was doing his military service.

Speaking of the garden, I can also say that my friends also used to come to spend time in this small garden. We would water the pots and feel happy as shoots appeared through the soil. On the other hand, my daughter has two memories in relation to this. When my daughter got married, we wanted a flower called the “bride flower” for her, which was a special aromatic kind of flower. My father had found the name of the flowers immediately. He said: “ce sont de tubereuses” meaning “they are tuberoses”.  Indeed, the tuberose wasn’t the kind of flower that was known very much, but my father had known it at once. Our second memory is related to my father’s death. My father died in the middle of winter, and flowers appeared on one of the plants in the garden, which hadn’t flowered for two years!

I remember the bread given out by ration, duringWorld War II. The ration was a document given out by the headman during World War II. Due to scarcity, main items like sugar, salt, bread, oil, and rice were given in amounts allocated to each family. And getting these items was only possible by showing the documents, called ration. We used up all our coupons. I was always the one to get into line to receive our share, because my grandmother was too old, and my mother a little too proud to line up. We used to save the bread which we got during Pesah, too. We would place it out on the balcony, because keeping it at home wasn’t the right thing to do. We were afraid that we wouldn’t be able to find bread afterwards, so we saved it in as religious a way as we could.  I also remember that some of the very poor families would sell their rations or goods in the blackmarket to earn some money.

My family didn’t travel much. We would go to the cinema once a week, and visit my mother’s sisters, who lived in Tunel, once every 15 days. [a popular neighborhood in which the Jews lived] The way back home from Tunel was like a journey, during those days. Because my father liked walking very much, we would walk the distance between Tunel and Taksim [a central neighborhood], and Taksim and Dolmabahce [a neighborhood along the European side of the Bosphorus], and reach Ortakoy, by tram or bus.The distance between Tunel and Taksim, was the region where the most glamorous shops, the best restaurants, the passegeways, and the cinemas were located. The most luxurious goods were sold at the shops in these passegeways. Most of the shop owners were Levantines.12 The ladies would definitely go around wearing a hat in this region called Pera. We wore special hats when we went to the cinemas. We used them as accessories, not for keeping our heads warm. One of the most famous restaurants of Pera was “Regence”, which was run by Russian ladies. The most famous dish of the restaurant was Borscht. The women who did the service would carry on with their own traditions by wearing long, and embroidered dresses. The most famous “patisseries” [bakery] of Pera, were the “Markiz” and “Lebon”.  Also, the “Inci patisserie”, was famous for its “profiterol”.  As Dolmabahce was situated by the sea it was a pleasure to walk down the slope from Taksim to Dolmabahce and enjoy the sea view.

During the summer days, I would go on a ferry with my mother from Ortakoy. The ferries were the most important means of transportation, which were in use between the two sides of the Bosphorus. We would go to Bebek [a neighborhood on the European side, near Ortakoy] to meet my father, who would be coming home from work. Sometimes we ate a sandwich in the tea garden, and sometimes fish at the fish restaurant. It always gave me pain to witness my father’s movements getting restricted after he was diagnosed with the Parkinson disease.

I first rode in a taxi on a rainy day and told this to my friends immediately the following day. Rain meant mud during those days, because the roads were in quite a poor condition. At that time we couldn’t imagine the asphalt roads of the later years. Some of the house fronts are being cobbled today in order to give them a nostalgic look. Getting on a train was a totally different story. It seemed like a very long journey, when we got on the road to go to Yakacık. [a neighborhood on the hilly parts of the Asian side]. We would first go from Ortakoy to Besiktas [a neighborhood on the European side], than from Besiktas to Uskudar [a neighborhood on the Asian side in Istanbul], and than from Uskudar to Haydarpasha. There, we would get on the train, heading to Kartal [a suburb on the Asian side], and finally reach Yakacık. We would go to Yakacık to spend the weekend. Yakacık was famous for its tea gardens, fresh air, and spring water. People would go there with big jars, fill them with spring water, and take them to their homes. Swings were already set up in these vast green fields by the time we reached there, and whistles made of ceramic, called “kantariko” were sold. I would buy from these ceramic whistles every time we went there, and break it the following day. Yakacık’s paper kebab was famous. Paper Kebab is a kind of dish where the food, basically meat, is cooked either in greaseproof paper or in terracotta pots. Small pieces of meat and various vegetables, made up this kebab. There was also a sanatorium which we prefered to stay away from.  The sanatorium was a hospital in which patients with tuberculosis were treated. It was thought, because tuberculosis was an infectious disease, germs would be found near the hospital. Sterilization was far from today’s standards. In the following years, as the roads were constructed we started going to Yakacık in the mornings and returning home in the evenings. We would take stuffed peppers, meat balls, and boreks [pastry filled with either cheese or ground meat] from home to the picnics. We would divide the work to be done among the friends. Everybody would cook something, and large tables were laden and set. “Raki keyfi” was the name given to eating and having nice conversations at these laden tables. [Turkish term meaning relaxing meal with raki and mezes that usually goes on for hours.] 

My husband Franko

Who is my husband, in other words, Isak Franko? How did we meet, get married and live? Isak Franko, was born in Kırklareli in 1919. [Thrace, European Turkey] His mother, Franka Franko wasn’t a well-educated lady. She could even have been considered as semi-literate. Though she herself claimed to know how to read and write, I never remember her reading a newspaper. His father, Yomtov Franko, on the other hand was engaged in the leather trade. They were a family who had been affected by the events which took place in 1934 in Thrace. Jewish families’ houses and work places were looted during these Thrace events 13. They moved to Istanbul overnight leaving all of their possesions behind. The Jews, who had come to Istanbul the night the Thrace events took place were either placed at a hotel by the community, or they stayed over at their relatives’ homes. They went back to Kırklareli to close up their homes and work places after the events had cooled down. But of course, they experienced great financial loss during these times.

My husband Isak Franko had two siblings. Roza was born in the year of 1922. She was very fond of reading. She started going to English High School for Girls 14, after coming from Kırklareli. Her mother Franka Franko would turn off the light in her bedroom at night and say “Ogretmena te vas azer, kualo es” meaning “are you going to become a teacher or what?”. She was a very bright girl. Her first marriage was to Shapat Ozcakır at the age of 18, and had two children, Fifi and Baruh. Fifi lives in Istanbul, while Baruh “Otzkın” in Israel. The surname “Ozcakır” became modified to Otzkin to conform with the rules of grammar and pronunciation in Israel. Fifi Ozcakır, my husband’s niece reached marriageable age 8 years after losing her father, Shapat Ozcakır from kidney failure in 1955. The responsibility for “Tallet” [In  Sephardi tradition chuppah is actually a tallit held at each corner by one of the four parents of the bride and the groom over their heads.] was given to my husband, who was the eldest sibling. And I went to one of the most famous dressmakers of the time and had an embroidered brocade dress made. This dressmaker was our neighbor, and was the mother of Filiz Akın, who was one of the most famous actresses of the time. Six months before the wedding, someone also wanted to marry to Fifi’s mother, my husband’s sister. Bohor Alev was a well-liked merchant. I entered the synagogue on my son’s arm, Fifi on my husband’s, and Roza, on her new husband’s. Roza’s husband wasn’t present at the tallet ceremony, but joined us later on for the congratulations. Roza was married to Bohor Alev for 36 years, and my niece always felt guilty for not having given the responsibility for the tallet to Bohor Alev. He was engaged in the stationary business. He brought packages of notebooks to my daughter, when he came to us the first time for dinner. My daughter was very young then, and felt very happy to get so many notebooks.

My husband’s brother, Hayim Franko was a reckless young man. He was late to his military class one day during his last year at the Austrian High School [an Austrian missionary school subsidized by the Austrian government]. When his teacher asked him to salute, he refused. His teacher told him, that he would register his behavior into his records. Hayim Franko later on started studying medicine after graduating from high school. Later on, he decided to use his right to serve in the military as an officer, and therefore postponed his education. This right was given to high school graduates only. But his military teacher had done what he told him and marked his childish behavior in his records. Hayim Franko had to serve as a soldier, which was longer in his military service. In this way, he failed to complete his medical studies, and went into business with his elder brother and father. Later on he married Viktuar Abeni. Their first child, Frida died from leukemia at the age of 6, and said farewell to life in a short period of time. We learned about her disease after a continuous sore throat which wouldn’t heal. It was a kind of cancer which spread very fast, and the little girl died within a period like 11 months. My sister-in-law, Viktuar Franko, never pronouncedher daughter’s name again throughout her life. She only went to the cemetry with me once a year. She would cry that day there and would carry her sadness only in her heart the other 364 days. There is still a porcelain trinket of a girl over Viktuar Franko’s bed. One must know my sister-in-law very well to interpret this. If she wants definitely to indicate a date or an event, then she would say “el anyo del malor” meaning the “year of the disaster”. The couple, Hayim and Viktuar, later on had two sons named Tovi and Cuda.

My husband, Isak Franko, started his business life by doing the work he took over from his father. Isak Franko acted in an amateur theatre group which he and his friends had formed at the age of 18, on Heybeliada [one of the islands in the Marmara Sea, which are called The Princess Islands.] I was 8 years old then and would sing songs during the intervals, or between acts to enable the actors to change their costumes. After seeing each other for the first time, my husband always joked saying “I picked you up the first time I saw you, but waited for you to grow up”. Only, after 8 years from this first meeting, Heskiya Hatem and Soli Hatem, [my husband’s friends and at the same time distant relatives of my grandmother from her father’s side] introduced us to each other again. We came together one New Year’s Eve and went to the cinema the following day. Isak Franko announced his intention of marrying me through our common friends. When my family told me that there was someone who wanted to marry me, I said if it was Isak Franko, then I would agree. The news spread out fast in Ortakoy. Isak Franko came to us with his mother and brought us a box of candies. The permission for my marriage was given in the month of June of the year 1947. During those days the man’s family would bring candies in a silver bowl to the girl’s family when they went to visit them for the first time for the engagement. This was the custom, then. The size of the silver bowl, its hallmark and ornamentation and its karats (800 or 900 for silver) would indicate the refinement and wealth of the family who had brought it.  That day they didn’t bring me a silver bowl. They brought us a box of candies from an ordinary pastry shop. I joked about this ironically for many years. Later on, I bought a lot of silverware for my house. I felt happy with the box of candies because his mother was unfashionable, and uneducated, and there was no one to show her the way to behave. I feel angry today when I see the young girls and boys who want everything complete from the first day. I try to explain that things earned slowly give much more pleasure.

I remember a very happy atmosphere when it comes to my wedding memories. We got married at the Zulfaris Synagogue, which is used as a museum today, 15 on the 6th of June in 1948. This synagogue had a positive feature for the wedding ceremonies. It was regarded as good luck for the brides to climb up the stairs till they reached the tevah. There is a staircase with 15-20 steps at the entrance of the Zulfaris Synagogue. All the girls who were single at that moment, my cousins, my friends from the neighborhood, all wrote their names on the soles of my shoes. [There was a belief that to write one’s name on the sole of a bride’s shoe would cause a single girl to get married] My friends refreshed my make-up. (In those times there were no professional make-up people to come and make up the bride and her fiamily like ther is today.)  Actually, they were watching me with a little bit of envy. Though I was the youngest one among the cousins I was the one who got married the earliest. I was 18 years old. I had rented both my wedding dress and the veil, but I had had my veil made according to my taste. Our wedding was quite a modest ceremony, but all of our crowded family members, and all of Ortakoy was there. After all the bride was from Ortakoy. My bridal veil got ripped by a cat the day following the wedding. Consequently, we had to buy it. We went to Yalova [a city near Istanbul, which is famous for its spas] for our honeymoon. We shared the first house we rented with my mother-in-law. But I would always go to my mother’s house, which was in Ortakoy. My husband would also feel happier there. So he would escape from his mother’s authority and ignorance a little bit. My brother-in-law, Hayim, was faced with the same problem of finding a house for rent when he got married. We started living in the same house with my sister-in-law, Viktuar. We got along like sisters. We would play bezique, after having finished our household chores. Our most favorite dish, was a kind of salted fish called “liparidas” then. My sister-in-law would go out to buy liparidas, while I would stay at home. Then we would eat them. One day we must have eaten too much, because we both got urticaria. My sister-in-law, who had a more allergic constitution, couldn’t stop itching for a long time. We both didn’t eat liparidas again. My mother-in-law, on the other hand, died in Septemper 1952.

My mother and father did not want to live in Ortakoy anymore. Ortakoy had started to become an outmoded neighborhood. The rich families had started moving to Sisli, and Nisantas. The year was 1953.  My mother and father sold the three houses which they owned. The shares of the siblings who lived in Paris and Israel were sent to them, because the house actually belonged to my grandmother. My husband proposed to rent a house in Nisantas with my mother and father. Everybody was pleased with this situation. Living in a single house would actually be more economical. My mother helped me with the raising of my children. My mother and I would put the money needed for the kitchen expenses in a purse. Everybody who bought something for the house would get his allowance from my mother. My mother was in charge of this purse, from which all the expenses were paid. My husband wouldn’t take extra money for the things he bought for the house, since we had children, and the old people did not eat so much. He would bring fruit home everynight from the street fruitsellers. He sometimes brought home ‚kasher‘ cheese, which was sold by the merchants coming from Anatolia. [‚Kasher‘ meaning Kosher, it refers to a specific brand of yellow cheese, produced by the Sephardim and was popular among both Jews and non-Jews.] My mother would immediately make borekas [Sephardic pastry filled with different kinds of fillings, either sweet or salty, like cheese, eggplants, potatoes or walnuts] and boyos [Sephardic pastry made of flour, oil and cheese] from that “kasher” cheese. My father on the other hand, would also sometimes want to buy things from the stallholders, but would usually get cheated because he was sick. And my mother would get angry at my father. I was very upset by these scenes. It was obvious that my father’s intention was good.

I would go to Beyoglu with my mother to buy the glassware we needed at home when some money was left in the purse from which our monthly expenses were paid. We especially couldn’t resist the crystal items. We would also go into the cloth shops to buy cloth to be made up by our dressmaker Diamante, who came to our house each season for a whole day of sewing. The day our dressmaker came was almost like a party day. Our neighbors would also come and help, and we would prepare special menus for that day. If the dressmaker was skilled enough, she would even sew more than the number of dresses she first promised. My mother would always keep extra material for a skirt at hand.  “Diamante me vas a kuzir i una fustika”[Ladino for “Diamante, you will sew me sew one more skirt, OK?”] “Si madam Fortune, si me ayudash un poko, deke no” [“Of course madam Fortune, why not if you help me a little bit”]. We would understand that the dressmaker needed little bit help from these conversations. We had neighbors who were like siblings. They would come to help. We felt more close to our neighbors than our siblings.

The couple, Yair and Mari Mizrahi, had only one child, whose name was Lina Mizrahi. She was the young Lina, and I was the older one when we talked among ourselves. The Mizrahi family was a quiet family.  We, on the other hand, were crowded. Young Lina would always come over to our house. She would also get my father to do her homework as I did during my childhood years. We would dine together during the Jewish festivals, and go out together during the Muslim festivals. My husband first invited the Mizrahi family out when he bought his car. Owning a car was a privilege then. The ones who bought a car would invite the family members out one by one. There was also an excitement in our family when Lina Mizrahi got married. After all, we were from the same apartment. Lina Mizrahi married a lawyer, named Salamon Kaneti. Yair and Mari Mizrahi, who were left alone in the house, came over to us right after the day she got married. They started crying and said “ No teniya un bokado para darle, ke la enbiyi de kaza ?” [“Why did we have to send her away? Didn’t we have a piece of bread to feed her with?” ] We calmed them down with a smile. Salamon Kaneti, who was a calm, quiet man later progressed in his career very much. He first became an associate professor and then a professor. Mari Mizrahi who was very proud of her son-in-law, would start her sentences by saying “mi yerno el avokato” [“my son-in-law the lawyer”] or “mi yerno el profesor” [“my son-in-law the professor]. My mother and I would always smile very much at these comments because she didn’t have any other son-in-laws. Her only son-in-law was a lawyer and a professor. When Lina and I meet, we still hug each other lovingly.

Our house was not that hot, because it was heated with a stove. We had to keep an eye on the stove. We would only use the big living room when we had guests, and sit in the smaller living room otherwise. Once I told to my son to keep an eye on the stove, because we were expecting guests. He put a lot of wood into the stove. When we arrived home, we saw that we were lucky not to have had a fire. We had great difficulty in putting out the stove. My husband took the ashes out. The house became both cold and dirty. This was extra work for us. In the following years, we moved into a flat with central heating in Nishantash.

My husband’s family, was affected by the Wealth Tax 16, as much as they were affected by the 1934 events. Yomtov Franko, my father-in-law, paid his Wealth Tax with a lot of hardships. After the financial blow during the Thrace events, he experienced another financial blow. He paid a fortune in order not to go to Askale. [a small town in the north-east of Turkey, where the forced labor camps were for people who did not/could not pay the wealth tax] On the other hand, my father had the advantage of working at a bank, and so he got away with a much lower Wealth Tax. The bank undertook to pay the amount for which he was liable.

My husband and I made our first trip to Israel in 1955, because going to Israel was my husband’s greatest dream. We spent very nice days with my cousin Beki there. That trip was like an adaptation of Ortakoy life in Israel to me. My cousin Beki went on with her knitting. But this time it was really to support the family budget. Beki would usually make borekas and cakes at home, because the pastry business wasn’t that advanced during those years in Israel, and she also wanted to earn some extra money. Her husband Mishel and my husband got along very well. They introduced us to their friends. We witnessed for the first time how the soil was made fertile.

My husband went into business with his father in the leather trade. They would buy leather from Anatolia and sell it. My mother would say “it smells bad, but it makes money” about this business. Later on my husband and his brother started to export leather abroad. Merchants used to come often from abroad. But for some reason, not my husband but his brother would take care of these guests. My husband was engaged in the leather export business for long years. Our life was changed by some news we read in the newspaper one morning. I can’t remember the exact date of this event, but it must have been around 1970’s.  A quota had been placed on the leather export. This time, he and his brother founded a tannery, that is a leather factory. My husband didn’t like the factory business that much. He would often have disputes with his brother. For some reason, they had different ideas about business. We, the two sister-in-laws were careful not to get involved in these disputes. In-laws don’t usually see eye to eye, so they say, but we are still closer than two sisters.

We made our first trip to Europe both for business and pleasure. We went till Marseilles by ship. My husband had some business to attend to in Toulouse, so I stayed over at my cousins in Paris. Upon my husband’s return from Toulouse, my cousins didn’t let us leave and we stayed over at their house. My husband wanted to take a bath immediately when he came over to my cousins. My cousin’s wife, who had a very good sense of humor said: “comment tu veux te laver? Il n’ya que les gens sales qui se lavent. Les gens propres ne se lavent pas!” [French for “What? You want to take a bath? Only dirty people take baths, not clean ones!”.] I always remember this joke. Later on we did many trips with my husband together. In the past, we used to return with a lot of suitcases which were filled with all the things we had bought. In those times, import items were very scarce in Turkey. Even a little thing we bought from Europe was very important. Nevertheless, when it came to shopping, my husband and I wouldn’t get along. I liked to buy presents both for myself and for my mother, for my children, and for my friends.  He didn’t agree.

My summer memories are colored mostly by the days spent in Caddebostan [a neighborhood on the Asian side]. Caddebostan was full of two storeyed houses, convenient to buy because they were offered by the bank at a reduced credit rate. Each house had a very big garden. There were fruit trees in these gardens. We would make jam from the fruit of these trees. In one of our summer houses, there were 8 different kinds of plum trees. Our landlords would divide the trees among the tenants. Mulberries were sold to the mulberry sellers. If there were two trees from the same kind, then one would belong to the landlord, and the other to the tenants. We knew about these trees and didn’t touch them. We would gather wallnuts when we were about to return to our winter houses. The hands of the those who peeled the wallnuts without a glove would get all black. During those days it was still possible to swim in the Marmara Sea. My husband would rent a boat for me seasonly, so that we didn’t have to line up each time we wanted to go swimming. There used to be long queues in front of the boat renters on the weekends. We didn’t have to wait in line because we had our own boat. The ones in line would scream and yell while we felt like as if we owned a big yacht. On the other hand, we would eat ice cream on Bagdat Street on hot summer nights. Each night we would go over to a friend’s house and entertain ourselves by telling jokes. If we stayed home one night, my father would ask “Isako esta hazino u keyfsiz?” [“Is Isak sick or not feeling well?”] During those days my father’s sickness had advanced quite much. He couldn’t take his wife around, and expected me to take my mother out. My husband wouldn’t say anything about my mother joining us.

The events of September the 6th and the 7th  17 suddenly shadowed these nice memories. We heard noises that night but didn’t pay much attention. My husband was shocked when he went to work the next morning and saw what had been done. At the time, we were living in Tukenmez Yuva, in Caddebostan. Eveyrwhere was looted. The refrigerators in the houses were lying in the streets. All the consumer goods had been thrown out onto the streets. They claimed that this was done by a few looters. The government said that they couldn’t stop these looters. I think being unable to stop them was also a failure. According to the rumors, this was done against the Greeks, and they say that even some Greek girls were raped. For them the term “non-muslim” meant, Jew, Armenian or Greek. The headman in Burgazada prevented the looters who came in barges from stepping onto the island and was able to protect the citizens living there. The damage both in Beyoglu and Buyukada was big. Our landlords kept us in their houses till morning. They tried to calm us down by saying “as long as we are here, they can’t harm you”. Of course, there were also some robberies, and a big financial damage occurred.

Cinemas and theatres were a big part of our social life. We would buy season tickets for the cinema, as this was the fashion then. On Saturday nights, some singers would sometimes take the stage before the film started. I remember some singers who are very famous today taking the stage at the Konak Cinema before the film started for PR reasons. Ilham Gencer and Ajda Pekkan are examples of such singers. [Ilham Gencer was a famous pop musician and Ajda Pekkan was a celebrated diva] Felt hats, leather gloves, and coats sewn by the best dressmakers had become outmoded and members of the Jewish community had started following the day’s fashion step by step. Especially wearing the clothes bought from the journeys abroad to the cinema evenings had become a symbol of wealth and the jet set. The tables prepared at the friends’ gatherings played an important role. In these gatherings, which were described as “fikso” [meaning, “a fixed day or night”], besides playing cards, many viscera, fried and sweet dishes were prepared which are out of favor today. Such big tables are not prepared any more, because we all have cholesterol or high blood pressure. In other words, we have gotten old.

I did not work. My house, family relations, neighbors, and “fikso”s, like many other women of my age, played an important role in my social life. [fikso is a day when people gather to socialize with each other. The most important thing was that these gatherings were held on the same day, and people came and went at a fixed time.] On the 22nd of December in 1989, I had just come back home from a fikso, and was waiting for my husband to come from work. The door rang. I said: “yaa hoo”, I’m coming. It was not my husband but my son. I immediately asked: “Your father ?”. He said: “At the hospital”. I said: “Take me over there at once”. He replied: “Tomorrow morning”. Then I screamed: “He is dead”. I had understood that there was to be no tomorrow. He had died suddenly in his beloved factory while taking a nap which he frequently took on his couch. From time to time, I wish that he had become sick first so that I could have looked after him. Then I stop this line of thought immediately. God takes his beloved ones without making them suffer. My husband was a very well-liked person. My friends never left me alone after his death. Nothing was same any more, but life went on.

The slogan, “Citizen speak Turkish”, 18 is a positive event on my mind. I don’t find it right, when people born in one country, and having equal rights with all the other citizens don’t speak the language of that country. My mother spoke almost no Turkish. She never made an effort to speak or learn the language either. According to her there was no need to be proficient in Turkish in order to shop from the street sellers. She would sing lullabies to her children in Ladino. Television hadn’t been invented yet, and all her friends spoke either French or Ladino. I, on the other hand believe in speaking the language of a country in order to belong there. Our children started speaking better Turkish. According to me this helped them to establish better relations and to present themselves better.

We heard the news about the World War II first on the radio and then from the newspapers. Actually, if we are to tell the truth, we learned about the terrible events in 1944, when the war was over. Maybe because we didn’t want to believe what was happening, we couldn’t see everything clearly. I start shaking when this brutality comes to my mind. I couldn’t come to myself for a long time after seeing the Holocaust Museum in Yad Vashem 19.

As for the Struma, 20 I had thought the Struma event would end in a different way, and Turkish hospitality would save the ship.

I don’t have much information about the Salonikans [donme] 21. As far as I know, they are either anti-semitic, or very “croyant” [religious]. And they hide themselves, in other words they do not expose themselves. It is said that the Tesvikiye Mosque [a mosque in the neighborhood of Nisantası] belongs to these donmes, but there isn’t any proof or sign of this. In the same way, the Sisli Terakki High School, [a high school in Nisantas] and Isik High School [another high school in Nisantas] are said to belong to the Salonikans. But again, there is no document or sign showing that this is
so.

On the other hand, the Karaites 22, are no different for me. I have Karaite friends, and yet I don’t see any difference between us. It is as if my friend is telling about my own religion when she speaks. My friend’s daughter got married in Israel. (the Bet-Din here didn’t allow a Karaite to marry a Jew here) but I know marrying a Karaite is forbidden. I even remember that there is a saying that “if you want to marry a Karaite, first make him an Armenian, then marry him”.

Politics wasn’t a subject in which either the Baruh or the Franko family showed an interest. We didn’t favor a particular party either. But both my family and my husband’s family were supporters of Ataturk. And we were raised with his reforms and principles. We also taught this to our children. I’m not happy with the situation today where the leading party is a conservative one. I didn’t sleep till the morning the night the results of the last elections were announced. My son said: “We don’t worry about this so much. What is happening to you?”. Some bad experiences which we witnessed in the past have made us pessimists. 

Family life

My husband and I had two children. Our son is Tovi Franko and our daughter is Feride Petilon (née Franko). Tovi was born in 1950 and Feride in 1957. We followed the Jewish traditions throghout our lives. My husband would always feel proud to say that he was Jewish wherever he was. On the other hand, our son’s circumcision ceremony was quite a modest one. Lemonade, biscuits, and as was the fashion of the time, in a small bag, candied almonds and pastry, and a piece of sponge cake was offered to the guests. My son’s bar mitzvah ceremony was done on a Saturday morning in the Caddebostan Synagogue [synagogue on the Asian side of Istanbul], and later on a coctail was given in the Suadiye Hotel [a hotel on the Asian shores of Istanbul]. The synagogue was crowded. I had bought a blue suit from Paris for this occasion, and my shoes and hat were white. It was August and very hot. We had guests coming from Burgazada. I had prepared lunch for them at my house, so that they didn’t have to go and come back from the island. I had a tablecloth which I had embroidered for the Bar mitzvah, but I was afraid to use it in case it got dirty. I then placed it in my daughter’s bottom drawer. In those days, the tefillin ceremony wasn’t ostentatious. My husband and our son went on a Thursday morning, two days before the Bar mitzvah ceremony, and had the tefillin ceremony and came back home. Then we gave out candies. That was it. Tovi Franko grew up according to the Jewish traditions. He even became the president of Amikal, which was one of the popular Jewish youth clubs of the time. Tovi started his business life with his father, and like most other young men didn’t like working with his father very much. He founded his own business after a short period of time. Nevertheless, he couldn’t part from the family business, which was the leather trade. He exported ready-made leather. His father helped him with the supply of raw materials.  My husband was a well-respected personality in Kazlıcesme. [the center of leather trade in old times in Istanbul. Later on all the leather factories and tanneries were moved to Tuzla, a suburb of Istanbul.] His nickname was “corbaci” [soup maker] meant a non-muslim boss, and his every word was attended.

While I was pregnant to my daughter, we experienced a big panic. I had German measles during my pregnancy. This illness is totally harmless in children. But in pregnant women it is the cause of a handicapped child. Blindness or the lack of an organ is an example of this. My doctor said that my baby was four months old and had completed all of her development when I got the illness. We believed him. We were very nervous after the birth. We went through a lot of distress till my daughter reached the age of one, and only then did we understand that all of her reflexes were healthy. We would always shake a rattle at her to see if she could hear or not. We would hold colorful objects in our hands and check to see if she could follow them or not. Actually, it was a risk which we shouldn’t have taken. Thank God though, my daughter started walking early, and was very succesful at school.

My daughter Feride Petilon entered the university exams two times, after finishing St. Benoit French School for Girls [French Catholic high school]. On her first try she gained a place in the French literature department of Istanbul University. 23 During those years, there was a lot of terrorism between the left and right in universities 24. She didn’t want to go on under those circumstances. As a very good student, she didn’t think French literature was a worthy subject for her. In her second try she gained a place in Business Studies. She was now married and living on the Asian side, and she was unable to complete her studies when she had a baby. She didn’t have an orderly working life. From time to time she did some private tutoring, and made costume jewelry.  She also worked for Assis. Prof. Sami Gulgoz at Koc University 25 on one of his experiments in psychology.  The experiment was researching the relationship of memory and language.  They used people who spoke Ladino and turkish in this experiment and their speech patterns were later scientifically analyzed. She made interviews and wrote articles for the Shalom newspaper 26. She participated in the Goztepe Cultural Association [Jewish youth club on the Asian side] at a managerial level.

I don’t see myself as a liberal. I like going to the synagogue. I’m moved when I attend the ceremonies and the festivals in the synagogue. I reach for God during each opening of Ehal. I don’t approve of going to the synagogue with revealing clothing. I don’t like getting into long conversations when I go to the synagogue, either.

My granddaughter Meyzi has an important part in my life. We are far beyond being a grandmother and a grandchild; we are like mother and daughter, with my daughter’s daughter Meyzi. She was born in 1979. Her father hadn’t done his military service yet when she was born. She and her mother lived at our house during her father’s military service. This may be the reason for our close relation. I got very excited during her wedding. Meyzi grew up like my daughter.

They wanted me present in the cortege when my son’s son was getting married. I was moved very much. These weddings which took place at the Neve Salom synagogue 27, are exciting moments of my life.

I first heard about the 1986 Neve Salom massacre 28 from my daughter. My daughter’s facehad gone deathly pale when she came home. I thought something had happened to her father. I felt very sad when I heard the news. We were invited to a wedding the following day.  They couldn’t postpone the wedding [it’s bad luck to postpone a wedding in the Sephardi tradition], so this wedding which started with such a dreadful event continued in the same way and ended in divorce.

I heard the news of the 2003 bombings 29 from my son. My son went to the Sisli Synagogue 30 immediately because some of our relatives were at the scene of the explosion. He called me and informed about the Neve Salom bombing immediately which had taken place simultaneously.

I am now living alone. I have 5 grandchildren and a very young great-grandchild. The second great-grandchild is on the way already. I have always tried to look at life from a positive point of view. I have tried to follow my traditions like my husband and father, and be modern like my grandmother and my mother. I think only in this way can I take my place among the young people. 

Recipes

Boyikos de pimyenta (biscuits with blackpepper)
Ingredients:

1 coffee cup of oil
1 coffee cup of water
1 coffee cup of melted margarine
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of blackpepper
1 teaspoon of cinnamon
3 tablespoons of sugar
as much flour as it takes to make a soft dough

How to prepare:

Oil, water, and the melted margarin is mixed together. Then, the other ingredients are added in order to this mixture. Flour is added finally, to make a dough. The dough is rolled thinly and cooked in the oven. Bonne apetit.

Biscuit:
Ingredients

1 coffee cup of oil
1 cofee cup of melted margarine
1 package of vanilla
3 tablespoons of sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon of lemon juice
1 teaspoon of milk
1 teaspoon of baking powder
as much flour as it takes to make a soft dough

How to prepare:

Oil, and melted margarine is mixed with vanilla, sugar, egg, lemon juice, and milk. Flour is added last, and the dough is rolled out thinly. Jam could be added on the top, if wanted, and cooked in the oven. Bonne apetit.

Boyikos with kasher [yellow cheese]
Ingredients

1 coffee cup of oil
1 coffee cup of melted margarine
1 coffee cup of water
1 glass of water old kasher [yellow cheese]
a pinch of salt
as much flour as it takes to make a soft dough

How to prepare:

Oil, margarine, and water are mixed together, and flour is added to make a dough. Kasher [yellow cheese] is also added, and the dough is rolled out. Cooked in the oven. Bonne apetit. 

Glossary

Enrico Modiano
Istanbul
Turkey
Interviewer: Rose Modiano
Date of Interview: May-July 2005

After his beloved wife Ester Modiano’s strange, tragic accident, Enrico Modiano tries to communicate with other people as much as he can – usually with a poignant smile on his face – and to go through this painful process as best as he can with patience and love. Enrico Modiano lives with his wife Ester in an apartment building named Edes (No.90) in Siracevizler, Sisli. He retired last year from the insurance business. He has an attendant helper, who comes over fives days a week to take care of the groceries, cleaning, etc. Every Saturday morning, Enrico Modiano goes to the synagogue for Shabbat prayers – except when the weather is terribly bad or if he experiences a health problem. When we look at his style of speech, he usually likes to stress on each and every word. For example, he stretches the word ‘1900.’. He is probably doing this to intrigue others or maybe to test their patience, because when you hear the beginning of the word, you start wondering if he means 1950 or 60 or something else. He likes using older Turkish vocabulary in his speech. Enrico Modiano is 79 years old. His outlook on life is one of hope even though he is experiencing some health problems. Although his wife - during her healthier days - was not too happy with his casual style of fashion, he prefers to wear both formal and casual clothing depending on the setting. He likes to listen to classical music with his wife as well as reading books about the Jewish religion and its history.

Family background

Growing Up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

Family backgound

I know that my family is of Italian, Livorno origin, and that they had originally settled in Salonika. The name Modiano comes from Modigliona; it changed over time to Modiano, and has continued to this day. My great grandfathers knew both Italian and Ladino, but they often spoke Greek when they were living in Salonika. 1

I considered my paternal grandmother’s father, Gabriel Yakoel, as my own grandfather. He was a respected man in Salonika. He was a very good-hearted man. According to what my family told me, he even had a Midrash [small synagogue] in his name, and he used to open its doors to the public for worship during important Jewish holidays.

My paternal grandfather, Mario Modiano was born in Salonika in 1858. I never had the chance to meet him. He passed away at such a young age; my father and his brothers were just kids at the time. I believe my father was 9 when it happened. After my grandfather passed away, my grandmother had to take care of the family financially. She did get occasional financial support from relatives though. I also know that my father had to start working at a very young age in addition to going to school. I was told that my grandfather died in 1896, and that he was never interested in politics.

My paternal grandmother was Reyna Modiano. Her maiden name was Yakoel. She was an extremely tranquil-natured, introverted, respectable woman. She became a widow at a very young age, and took care of her daughter and three sons with utmost care and compassion. She also made sure to educate her children on appropriate manners of behavior.

I did not really see her so much as to remember her sense of fashion. This is because when I first met her, she was already in her 60’s. She was a house-wife; she did not go out much. She spoke only Ladino, and apparently the family also spoke to each other in Ladino. Family names have remained the same since then… I remember that my grandmother had beautiful, whitish hair that reminded me of a princess’s.

My grandmother first lived in the Beyoglu neighborhood in Istanbul, and then Taksim and Nisantasi. I remember having been to her houses in both Taksim and Nisantasi. She used to live with her daughter Ester Yakoel, who was single. The house my grandmother and Ester lived in during the ’50s and the ’60s was a big, comfortable place. They used a gas furnace for heating purposes, like most people did back then. I do not remember them ever having problems with running water. They did not have a garden.

I remember my father telling me about a 15-year old girl named Palomba Asayas. She was originally from Edirne [Andrinople, a city in the northwest of Turkey], and was adopted by my father’s family. In reality, it might not be correct to call her adopted, since adoption occurs when the person in question does not have parents. Palomba, however, did have a mother and a father. They were so poor that they lived in a broken-down house, and led a very difficult life. My father and his brother felt very sorry for the family, and offered to take her in. They took care of Palomba as if she were an adopted daughter or sister. She stayed with my father’s family until she got married. My father’s sister, Ester Yakoel, took care of the cooking for the entire family.

My paternal grandmother was born in Salonika, and lived there for a long time. She then moved to Istanbul, where her two sons, Gabriel and Isaac, lived. She did not read the newspaper much. She was not a very knowledgeable, educated woman. She deeply cared for her religion though; she always practiced and observed the rules of Jewish traditions. She kept Kosher, but did not go to the synagogue much – especially after moving to Istanbul. They usually celebrated Jewish holidays at home. She was extremely meticulous about food preparation during the Holidays. She had her own recipes for some foods and deserts. Every year, when Pesach approached, she would buy new sets of pots and pans from a month before, and would fill them with vinegar and peeled walnuts. A couple of days before Pesach eve, she would begin cooking a very specific kind of fish. I do not remember what it was called, but she served it to us every Pesach.

I remember my grandmother’s house in Nisantasi [a district in the European side of Istanbul]; it was a two-story house. She lived on the ground floor with her daughter. On the upper floor lived my grandmother’s brother Hayim Yakoel and his wife Loret. My grandmother did not have many friends, but her family visited often. She did not go on vacation much; she preferred to stay home most of the time.
She had one brother named Hayim Yakoel. Hayim was also born in Salonika, and went to school there. Actually, he was classmates with Ataturk. 2 When he later relocated to Istanbul, he worked at the Bank of Salonika for a while. He then began working at the Deutsche Bank as an accountant; he worked there until World War II, and hence, the Holocaust began. Unfortunately, he was intentionally fired from that job because he was Jewish. He was a very good accountant, and with the help of some of his friends, he was able to secure an accounting position at the Sultanahmet Vakko . He worked there until he retired. He has a son named Gaston Kohen. I still have many relatives today from Gaston’s family. One of my cousins from that side, for example, is Elyo Kohen. My parents did not give us a lot of information about their parents. My father, actually, does not remember too much about them and their elders.

My father had two brothers and one sister. He was the eldest of all siblings. The eldest son after my father was Gabriel Modiano. He was born in 1890. He was the Managing Director of the Bank of Salonika. He passed away in 1963. He was married to Eleonora Modiano. They had a son and a daughter together, both of whom lived in Italy. Actually their daughter, Linetta, still lives in Rome today. I occasionally speak to her on the phone. Gabriel and Eleonora’s son, Morio Modiano, passed away two years ago.

My father’s sister, Ester Modiano, was born in 1892. She passed away in Switzerland in 1982. She was married to Raphael Yacoel, and they had a son named Gabriel. I know that Gabriel has been living in Milan until recently, but we have not heard anything about him over the past couple of years.

My father’s youngest sibling, Isaac Modiano, was born in 1894. He was the Managing Director of the German Deutsche Oriente Bank’s Salonika branch. During the Second World War, he too was forced to resign from that post. Later on, he got a job at the newly founded Turkish Credit Bank as a Vice President. When the Bank became bankrupt, he decided to move to Switzerland. He had two daughters. One of them, Giovanna Modiano, unfortunately passed away at a very young age in 1984. She used to conduct academic research on law before passing away. Their other daughter, Renata Modiano, still lives in Switzerland today. She is a teacher of Italian Literature. Isaac Modiano passed away in Switzerland in 1985. He was married to Maria Pardo. Maria’s father, Josep Pardo, actually was Ismet Inonu’s French tutor.  3

My father, Saul Modiano, was born in Salonika in 1887. He passed away in Istanbul in 1970. My mother, Ester Modiano [her maiden name is Kohen] was also born in Salonika in 1894, and passed away in Istanbul, in 1979. My parents are both buried at the Italian-Jewish Cemetery in Sisli, Istanbul.

My father was of medium-height, and was slightly overweight. He had whitish hair. He had glasses, but only used them when he was reading. He did not wear a tie around the house, but he always wore one when he was outside. He always wore clean, fashionable clothes. My mother, Ester Modiano, was also of medium-height and was slightly chubby. She had a very reserved personality. Her hair was medium-length. She wore casual clothing both inside and outside the house. She usually wore lipstick, and used nail polish.

My father was a very serious, introverted kind of man. He did not speak much, and when he did, he spoke with utmost care – as if he was weighing each word. He was a reserved man just like my mother was. My father was also very smart and perceptive. He did not have a lot of time to read, but he followed all major news of the day. My mother did spend a lot of her time reading. She graduated from a French school in Salonika.

My parents both went to school in Salonika. The school my father attended was called ‘Idadiye’ back then. It was a special kind of Italian school. My father’s native tongue was Italian, and my mother’s was Spanish. They spoke in Spanish and French between each other and their own parents.

When he lived in Salonika, my father used to work as a regular employee at a firm. Later on, when he came to Istanbul, he founded his own business. He became a commissioned representative for some factories located in Europe. He also provided those European companies with insurance expertise, and handled their insurance needs. My mother was a French teacher until she got married. She later became a stay-at-home mom.

My mother had three siblings. Her oldest sister, Pava Kohen was married to Benjamin [I do not remember his last name]. They had three sons together; Marko, Suzan and Izidor. Another one of my mother’s sisters was named Suzan, who passed away at a very young age. As for her other sibling, she had a brother named Jak Kohen. Jak had a keen interest in hunting. The weather was apparently terrible during one of his hunting trips, and, as a result, he caught pneumonia. He passed away soon after. Unfortunately, medicine was not as advanced back then as it is today. Jak also had two children. Marko still lives in Rome today, and his brother Ivon, unfortunately passed away during the Second World War. Soon after the Germans invaded Rome, he caught pneumonia because of the poor living conditions surrounding the city, and passed.

My mother went to a Greek school, but the educational language of the school was French. She later attended a French school. I can say that both of my parents had good educational backgrounds. When my mother was attending high school, she was able to secure a scholarship to study at the Alliance Israelite Universalle. 4  She was going to go to France in an effort to further her French skills. But, my father, being her groom-to-be, talked her out of it. He actually did not let her go there. As a result, my mother took a job as a French teacher in a Greek school. French was a very popular language back then; students would begin learning French starting from elementary school.

My parents had, what I would call, an arranged marriage. My mother’s brother, Jak Kohen, happened to be my father’s best friend long before she and my father met. Starting from when my father was 14-15, he would go over to her house all the time to see Jak. My father and mother became very close over time. They got married when my father was 31. I would not call that a young age to get married because my father actually never attended the military when he was supposed to – during the Balkan Wars of 1912-1914. 5 6 During the Balkan Wars [Back then, Salonika belonged to the Ottoman Empire], Italians living in Salonika were expelled because the Ottoman Empire was at war with Italy. My father temporarily had to relocate to Italy. He lived in Milan for six months - until the War came to an end. His brother Isaac Modiano also went with him to Italy. As far as I know, they both worked in Milan for a while, but they did not have to stay there for too long. In the meantime, the War came to an end, and Isaac moved to Istanbul.

During the War, my mother actually managed to stay in Salonika. In 1914, soon after my father had come back to Salonika, the First World War broke out. They got married in 1918 – just before the War ended. When my father was living in Salonika, his mother was living in Istanbul. His two brothers, Isaac and Gabriel were also living in Istanbul. They were the Managing Directors of the German Deutsche Orient Bank, and the Bank of Salonika, respectively. They were both in-house managers, groomed to the management level within their own companies.

During the First World War, my father wrote a letter to my maternal grandmother, and asked for her permission to marry her daughter. My mother, Ester Modiano [Kohen] was living in Salonika at the time. Actually, it was not even necessary for my father to ask for permission to marry my mother, because he spent everyday at her house. Since my father was also a good friend of Jak’s, they all spent time together. My father was considered a member of their family.

Back then, official marriages did not exist, so they married at a synagogue. Marriage ceremonies at the synagogue were a rarity back then; most couples had their weddings at their parents’ houses. This was probably because most houses had huge gardens, and were sufficient to hold the ceremonies. Everyone would sit right next to each other; the weddings were celebrated just like the ones that took place in big Turkish villages. My parents also had a wedding ceremony at their parents’ house with all the relatives. We were a middle-class family, and we had a very modest lifestyle.

As far as I know, houses in Salonika were heated using coal furnaces. My parents owned our house. Our house had a garden, and our doors were always open to everyone. My mother’s brother, Jak, had an interest in hunting. He also had a dog named Fido. He got married in Salonika, and continued to live there with his wife. They had two children there. After he passed away, his wife and children moved to Rome, Italy.

We did not have an attendant in the house; my mother took care of all the housework…

In 1921, when my brother, Mario Modiano was only six months old, we moved from Salonika to Istanbul.

My mother loved to read. My father, on the other hand, did not have much time for that although he did enjoy reading. All I remember my father reading is the Journal D’orient newspaper published in French. 7 He read it everyday. My mother also read the paper as well as French novels. They did not regularly go to the library. My parents did not give me many suggestions on books; I chose the books I wanted to read according to my own taste. I had a library in my room.
 
My parents were both religious people, but they did not spend all their time at the synagogue. They did, however, observe all important Jewish Holidays, and specific traditions according to each Holiday. My father placed a special importance on keeping Kosher. He would always go to the synagogue on Friday evenings, Saturday mornings and on Holidays. My mother, on the other hand, would only go during the Holidays. Seats would be reserved for my parents at both the Buyukada and the Italian Synagogues. We did not get a chance to eat out much since keeping Kosher was very important for my father.

My parents, my sister Reyna, and my brother Mario were all members of the Misne Tora Association. I became a member as well, when I was 15. In her work with Misne Tora, my mother was responsible for distributing lunch to the students of Karma High School. In addition, she was responsible for collecting and distributing clothing for Karma students once a year. My mother also served as the Dining Hall Manager and as the President of the Women’s Commission at Misne Tora. My father served as a member of the Board of Directors there, but not in an official capacity because he was an Italian citizen. He would attend all major events and activities though.
 
This is the motto I would use to summarize my parents’ political perspectives:  “En los meseles del hukumet el ahali muestro no se karishtireya” in Ladino or “Our people do not get involved in the business of politics and government.” 

My father had significant responsibilities at Mishne Tora. He was also an active member of the Italian-Jewish Community. He represented the Italian-Jewry in Turkey at the Chief Rabbi’s office. At Mishne Tora, he participated in end-of-the-year activities every year. During these activities, a number of different shows were put on, including a play put together by the Youth Commission.

My father did not serve in the Turkish military because he was an Italian citizen.

Many of my parents’ neighbors in Salonika and Istanbul were Jewish. They all visited each other often. When I was one years old, we moved to the Galata neighborhood in Istanbul. We stayed at a 12-story apartment building, but the 12 apartments seemed to me like they were one because everyone was so close to each other. I remember that the apartment building was located at the Serdar-i Ekrem Yazici Street, and that it was No. 64. It was initially called the ‘Varon and Benardete’ apartments, but after the Wealth Tax was implemented, it was changed to ‘Lebar’ apartments. 8

My parents had many friends; Turkish and Jewish alike. I can however say that they had more Jewish friends. The street we lived on was mostly occupied by the non-Muslim population at the time.

My parents did not take many vacations; they did not need to because we owned a summer house in Buyukada. In some years, on the last day of Pesach, a couple of families from the community got together, and had a picnic at the Camlica Hill - provided that the weather was favorable. We would eat eggs, feta cheese, lettuce, etc. The families frequently visited each other.

My brother, Mario Mair Modiano, was born in Salonika in 1921. When he was only six months old, my parents decided to move to Istanbul. He began studying at the French St. Benoit High School when he was six. He had to transfer to an Italian high school when he was at the seventh grade because of the 1932 Mussolini official notification. He completed his education at the Italian Lycee, and graduated with a degree in Commerce. After high school, he attended the Istanbul University’s Business and Commerce School. He graduated from the university with a degree in Commerce.

In 1942, he and one of our neighbors in the apartment became partners, and opened a wholesale dried-goods store. This continued until 1950, when he resigned because of irreconcilable differences with his partner. That was when he and I started working together. We founded our own store, and named it the ‘Terakki House of Dried-Goods – Mair and Eriko Modiano.’

We worked together until 1958. That year, my brother decided to move to Canada. He had gotten married to Nina Eskinazi in 1948. He became diabetic because of all the stress he endured during his last partnership. The disease later spread to his eyes, and he unfortunately lost his sight. I always thought of him as a very brave person for undergoing eye surgery only two years after losing his sight. After the operation, one of his eyes regained about 25% sight. He had this operation in Canada.

He was a very alert-natured person. He always liked responsibility and being busy with something. This is probably why, after he lost his sight, he enrolled at a local university and became interested in photography. He studied the art of photography at the university. After he regained 25% sight on one of his eyes, he took many beautiful photographs. I remember him going through really hard times when he first moved to Canada, but he did not give up. He worked as a regular employee at several different companies. After a while, he became partners with a friend of his, and the two of them founded an import business for men’s and women’s shoes. For the business, they imported a wide variety of shoes from East Asia, Italy and France.

He had a son named Sonny Modiano. Sonny completed his education in Montreal, Canada. After gradation, he initially began working with his father, but he was not entirely interested in the job. Therefore, he decided to move to Detroit in the United States with his wife and two children. Today, he still lives in Detroit, and operates a successful yoghurt manufacturing business there.

My brother got really sick after catching a virus. He passed away despite all efforts to save him. That was in 1992.

My sister was born in Istanbul in 1923. She attended both elementary and middle school at the Saint George Austrian High School. She later attended the American Robert College for high school, but she had to drop out because my father’s financial situation had steadily deteriorated. 9 She got married to Edgar Tabah in 1946. Her husband’s job was not going too well, and therefore, their financial situation was not too comfortable either. In 1975, they were forced to immigrate to Israel to start a new life.

Their son, Albert Tabah, had already immigrated there some time before. He had served in the military, and fought during the Six-Day and Yom Kippur Wars. 10 11 Because of wartime conditions, he decided to move to Canada – near my brother. Later on, the two of them ended up moving together to California, United States. My sister’s daughter, Marcel, ended up staying in Israel. She got married, and gave birth to a daughter and a son.

My sister passed away in 1983. Unfortunately, my sister and I did not really get along well because of some monetary problems. As to my relationship with my brother, we always treated each other with respect and compassion. Anyway, my sister and I did not have the best relationship, and I did not get to see her one last time before she passed… So much so that I did not even want to do her Keriya when I got news that she had passed away. Everyone put a lot of pressure on me to do it; that is why I did her the honors. I would not have done it on my own.

I still feel very offended and hurt when I think about her. She actually took all of my parent’s assets – whatever they owned – with her to Israel. In a way she stole them, and took my parents with her promising to them that she would take care of them with that money once they were living there. But, she ended up sending my parents back home only after three months.  The timing was such that my father had to undergo prostate surgery…

The apartment building I spent my childhood in was located in Yazici Street, in Galata. The building was renamed ‘Lebar’ apartments after the Wealth Tax was implemented. I lived there until I got married in 1953. The building’s residents were all Jewish. We were all like a one, big, happy family. Specifically on Saturday nights, our doorman Mehmet, would buzz every apartment. For example, we were living in apartment No. 6. Mehmet would say “Apartment No. 8 is expecting everyone tonight.” That night, all parents in the building would go over to apartment number eight. They would talk, gossip and play various games with each other. While this was going on, we the children would also get together at another neighbor’s, and play. When we heard movement within the apartment, this meant that our parents were coming back, so we would quickly return to our apartments. At that time, I was around 13 or 14 years old.

If I were to give you exact directions to the apartment building, there was a photo shop, Foto Sureyya in the Tunel Area back then. One would have to go straight downhill from the shop to find the German Lycee. Our building was right across the street from that hill. It was at the end of the street that used to house the Registry Office. My wife and I actually got married at that Registry Office [that building is now Tarik Zafer Tunaya Cultural Center, and it belongs to the municipality of Istanbul].

There was a small vacant lot and a slightly larger one adjacent to the building we used to live in. During summertime, right after schools closed and before went to the islands, our doorman would take all the kids with him to the first lot so we would have a safe play to play instead of playing on the streets.  He would not let us go to the second lot, which was mostly covered with bushes. We the kids would try and convince him to take us there, but we were never successful.

Later on in my life, I came to learn an interesting fact about that vacant land. I was reading a book by Avram Galante. It was called “Historie de Juif de Turquie” [A History of the Turkish Jewry], and was published in French. In the book, Galante mentions that the vacant land from my childhood is actually a Karaite cemetery. 12  When the Karaites first came here during the reign of the Ottoman Empire, they settled in the Karakoy neighborhood. Back then, the neighborhood was called ‘Karay Koy,’ which stands for Karaite Village in Turkish. Over time, it was renamed as ‘Karakoy’, which can be translated as Dark Village. The Karaites, apparently, had their own synagogue around the area. In order to be closer to their synagogues, they had rented the vacant land adjacent to it, and turned it into a cemetery. I do not remember seeing tomb stones there, but it was probably because they were hidden by all the bushes. On top of that, the front of the bushes was covered with a wooden sheet. I do not remember seeing any sign that mentioned the area was a cemetery.

The streets in my neighborhood were clean, and were made of pavestones. Every apartment had a doorman, who would always keep the entrance of the apartments clean. Since the area was mostly occupied by non-Muslims, cleanliness was very important to everyone. The street we lived on was not too busy a street; I remember that automobiles did not pass very frequently, but that the street was often frequented by grocery salesmen, who carried their fruit and vegetables on horse carts.

It would probably be correct to say that about 90% of the people in my neighborhood were Jewish. Adjacent to our apartment building laid a cemetery, and next to the cemetery was a large commercial building. Back then, it was called the Kamondo Apartments. Its named was later changed to Boton Apartments, and when the Yapi Kredi Bank acquired the building, its name was changed to the Dogan Apartments. The building was composed of four different sub-buildings. It had a very large entrance, and was surrounded by apartments on all sides. It also had a tennis court, where most of the neighborhood Jews interested in tennis played. That tennis court has been there for as long as I can remember – from when I was six years old in 1932 until I moved away in 1953.

Most of the Jewish families in our neighborhood were middle-class. Everyone was close to each other. There were not many rich families back then. Even if they were rich, they would not show it off. They would lead a modest life. There were not any synagogues in our neighborhood. But, our neighborhood was in proximity to the Kuledibi neighborhood, where an Ashkenazi Synagogue on Yuksek Kaldirim Street as well as a Knesset [Apollon Synagogue] was located. Back then, the Neve Salom Synagogue had not been built yet. 13 The Italian Synagogue was located on Sair Ziya Pasa Hill, Bankalar Avenue. It was called Kal de Los Frankos at the time.

I personally went to the Italian Synagogue. When it was first founded, the Synagogue’s first rabbi was Rabbi Akal Algazi, the famous tenor. He later moved to Mexico. After Algazi, Eliya Eskinazi became the Synagogue’s rabbi. He was of Bulgarian origin. He served as the Rabbi for our synagogue for a couple of years, after which he transferred to the Buyukada Synagogue. Rav David Asseo, whom we referred to as ‘Maare Ata,’ became the new rabbi for the Italian Synagogue. The Italian-Jewish Community sent him to Rhodes to get educated in Jewish Religion and Affairs, taking care of all his educational costs. He graduated from the Theology University there.

Today’s 500 Years Foundation [500 Yil Vakfi] building was the Zulfaris Synagogue back then. All weddings would take place there. On Sunday morning, children of the Jewish families in the neighborhood would go there to attend Religion classes. My brother, at the time, taught the Torah in Hebrew, since he was one of the founding members of Auvar Ahim.   

The middle-class Jewish population of the time generally preferred living in Jewish neighborhoods such as Yazici Street, Kuledibi, Tepebasi, Kasimpasa. Families, who had a stronger state of finances, would live in the Taksim area while families, who might be called ultra-millionaires, lived in the Sisli and Nisantasi areas.

The Jewish families in my neighborhood held a wide variety of jobs including businessmen and craftsmen. When I say craftsmen, I am talking about being a hairdresser, carpenter, shoemaker, ironworker, etc. In our neighborhood, we did not actually have a Jewish hairdresser, but our hairdresser was a very interesting man. Sevket was his name. He had black hair, and a very dark, black beard. We would all go there for a shave. I remember being very afraid whenever I saw his beard; this was when I was really young. I would not want to go in his shop.

Across the street from our apartment building was a grocery store. Its owner, Yermiya, was Greek. We took care of all our grocery needs from there. I remember my father buying a box of Nestle chocolate from the Yermiya store every Saturday morning (some of the chocolate boxes came with prizes inside). He had actually made a deal with the owner; he would say to him “Listen, I am taking this box of chocolate, and I am going to start eating them until I win a prize. When I do, I will come back here and pay you only for the chocolates I have eaten, and you will agree to take the remaining ones back.” And, the owner Yermiya? He had accepted this!

Every Sunday morning, my father would summon his three children, and we would open the chocolates one by one until one of us located a prize. It was very interesting in that we did get to find the prize every Sunday. We found find a card in the chocolate that had the prize. One of the prizes, for example, was an Ataturk statue made from plaster. Another time, it was an ink-pen, and yet another time we found a camera. This really stayed with me as one of those significant memories I have with my family… I also remember finding photographs of movie actors in those Nestle boxes. Catalogues were given to the buyer with the purchase of the box. Whenever we found a photograph, we would place it in the catalogue. When the catalogue was complete, we would take it to the Nestle store down on the street, and the store owner would give us a present. 

I remember always having electricity in the apartment. We always had running water…

During my childhood years, I remember there being only one political party, Cumhuriyet Halk Party. This was until 1950, when Turkey adopted a multi-party system with the arrival of Adnan Menderes to the political scene. 14  Later on, political parties that we know today, were founded one by one.

I do not remember having to endure any type of anti-Semitism. I believe that one should separate the issue of anti-Semitism into two categories; the first is the anti-Semitism from the perspective of Turkey and the other from that of Italy. We, the Turkish-Jewry did not have to endure any type of anti-Semitism. The only event that comes close was the implementation of the Wealth Tax. As for the Italian anti-Semitism, it began when Mussolini’s Italy became allies with Germany, and the two countries began a war of anti-Semitism against Jews.

I went to an Italian school. I completed elementary school in the Galatasaray neighborhood, at the building behind the Galatasaray Lycee. Mine was an all-male school. As for high school, I attended the Italian Lycee, and graduated from there at twelfth grade.

Italy had celebrations and holidays very specific to its culture. For example, all Italian children in my school between the ages of six and twelve were members of the Figlio de la Lupa, which can be literally translated as the offspring of the wolf. This was a special group of youngster boy scouts. Between the ages of twelve and eighteen – until all of us graduated from high school – we belonged to a higher class of the boy scouts called Ballila. Ballila was, in a way, the Figlio de la Lupa’s Fashist arm. One category higher than the Ballila was a group named Avant Guardista, and yet another category was the Capo Centuria [captain]. I remember my brother reaching as high as the Cadetto class. Every class had its own uniform. For example, people who belonged to Cadetto, had to wear black shirts, green golf pants, jackets and boots. The children would wear their tokens of success on their jackets. These were awarded to them based on their success as a student and as a boy scout.

Both national and religious holidays were celebrated in Italy. During important religious holidays such as Christmas or Easter, we would go to the Casa D’Italya club wearing our uniforms. The club was located at the Tepebasi neighborhood. Today, it is known as the Italian Cultural Center. We also had the chance to attend religious ceremonies. Back then, the 24th of May was commemorated as the Independence day of the Italian Republic, and that day was celebrated through a variety ceremonies just like we commemorate the 19th of May holiday for the Youth of Turkey here. In those days, the 24th of May was always commemorated on a Sunday even if it fell on a different day of the week. We would get together in the backyard of the Italian Cultural Center and practiced gymnastics. We would all be wearing our uniforms on that day. I was the one chosen to carry the flag. Since my brother was older than me, he was in a higher class, and so he was responsible for carrying a larger flag.

The only Turkish holiday we celebrated as students in the Italian Lycee was the Holiday for the Foundation of the Turkish Republic. It is commemorated on the 29th of October of each year. That day, all students would get together in school. We would then join other students from the Galatasary Lycee, and go to the Taksim neighborhood together. Like every year, armed forced would be present in the area for the parade. Following the passage of the armed forces, students from all schools would pass through the parade in honor of the Holiday. Since I was the boy-scout responsible for the carrying the school flag, I would also carry the flag during the 29th of October holiday. During the parade, Turkish flags were the first to be carried through. Then followed the Turkish schools’, and finally foreign schools’ flags [such as the German Lycee, the French Lycee, etc].

I was at the sixth grade when Ataturk passed away in 1938. I remember that his coffin was put on the mausoleum in the Dolmabahce Palace. All students from my school had gone to the Palace to mourn Ataturk’s loss.

I have forgotten almost all of the anthems I learned as a kid.

Back then, students had to go to school on Saturdays as well – but only until lunchtime. In the afternoons, I would either stay at home or go out with my parents to visit my grandmother – depending on my age. When we went to my grandmother’s house, she would always give us a big hug, and ask us: “What can I get for my beautiful grandchildren?” She was always so thoughtful. She always made sure to give us some pocket money. As I got older, the pocket money would come in handy, because I would get my friends together to play cards or go to the movies. After 18, my friends and I started meeting girls. I remember getting together with our girlfriends as a group, and throwing a house-party every Sunday.

We did not have a neighborhood bazaar, but there was a store that sold fruits and vegetables (i.e. greengrocer) rather close to where we lived. I remember my mother calling out to the grocery store across the street from us. She would call out to the owner from the window “Yermiya!” She would say in Greek “Could I get a loaf of bread and a kilo of sugar?” She would then descend a basket all the way down to the ground floor. She would go the greengrocer’s, or send our attendant. 

My father had a keen interest in collecting things. He would sometimes buy things for himself, or he received them as gifts from friends. He would collect them, and later on, when he deemed the time was right, he would take them from his hiding place, and give them out. For example, he would bring home dried fruits and nuts. He did not want us to consume too much, so he would occasionally hide them – but with utmost secrecy.

My father took care of the shopping for the house. Back then, there was a big shopping arcade in the area where the Odakule neighborhood is today. The store was called the Karlman Arcade. Its owner was a Polish Jew. One could find everything he/she was looking for in his store – like today’s Migros Supermarkets. The owner had a unique sales tradition. Once every month, he would label all his goods in multiples of eight – eight cents, eight liras, eighty-eight liras, etc… [He would label each good he sold in multiples of eight depending on the specific good]. He sold glassware, pots and pans, clothing, scarves, etc…

As to my feelings towards important political events I remember, I believe that one of the most important of these is the expulsion f Jews from Spain, and the following immigration of Spanish Jews to the soils of the Ottoman Empire in 1942. 15 This is a very important event as we all know. In addition, many scientists and respected, educated men and women in their fields were forced to take shelter in countries such as Turkey, as a result of the negative pressure and anti-Semitism inflicted toward the Jewish population in Germany and other allied countries. These people became professors in universities based on their expertise. Another event I remember is that, during World War II, the Turkish Government allowed Jewish people from a variety of countries to pass through its soil on their way to Israel. Unfortunately, the Struma incident was a truly unpleasant one. 16  In my house though, these types of events were seldom spoken of.

Growing Up

I was born in Istanbul in 1926. When my mother was pregnant with me, my father’s sister’s husband had passed. His name was Rafael. My father’s sister apparently told him “if it’s a boy, I would like you to name the baby Rafael.” At the same time, my mother had a brother named Jak. He was very interested in hunting. After one of his hunting trips, he caught pneumonia, and he too passed away. After this event, my mother also told my father “If this baby is a boy, I would like to name him Jak.” When I was born, my parents apparently had to struggle with giving me a name for a while. My father suggested “Why don’t we name him something in between Jak and Rafael?” They named me ‘Iko,’ which combines the last syllables of ‘Jakito’ and ‘Rafaeliko.’ So they began calling me Iko…

Well, when it was time for me to enroll in school, my parents had to enlist me at the Italian Consulate. My father did not want to hurt anyone, and so he listed me as Giacomo Rafaello [both Italian names]. He also came up with the name ‘Enrico,’ which would still be a name that included Iko, my original name. Therefore, my official name was listed as ‘Giacomo, Rafaello Enrico Modiano’ at the Consulate’s official records and on the Italian passport I later received. The name Iko was not included within my official name, and therefore, in the Consulate’s official records.

Both my parents supported the family financially, and took care of the children during my childhood years. We also had an attendant in our house. She was a Greek woman named Elefteriya, and was originally from the Imroz Islands [Back then, the Imroz Islands were occupied by the Greeks]. She worked in our house – day and night – for a long time. Because of her, my two siblings and I learned how to speak Greek.
When we were living on Yazici Street, my sister was attending the Australian Elementary School located in the Kuledibi neighborhood. When I was five and a half years old, I also started attending pre-school at the Australian Elementary School. I have a memory from those years… We had Sisters in our classrooms as teachers. They would give us cardboards with holes in them, and we were supposed to create different shapes by way of passing thin ropes through those holes. I would sometimes create animal figures, sometimes flower shapes, etc…

I really liked the Austrian School, so I wanted to go there as well for elementary school. In 1936, right when I was about to begin elementary school, Mussolini passed a new law that affected me and my family members. According to this law, all males, who were Italian citizens, had to study at Italian schools worldwide. If not, they risked losing their citizenship when they became eighteen.

Italy was ruled by a Fashist regime in those days. At the boy scouts group, we had our own uniforms with black shirts. We had to wear dark blue khaki pants, black shirts, and triangle-shaped scarves. The scarves had Mussolini’s emblem carved onto them. On top of these, we had to wear black hats, which also had Mussolini’s emblem at the front. The hat had a pompom hanging down from its right side – just like the ones on the fez [old hats worn during the reign of the Ottoman Empire]. Every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, the school would be out of session, and so we would go the Casa D’Italia Locale, wearing these uniforms. 17

There were many theatrical activities in Casa D’Italia. I first went there in 1939. In 1943, when Italy signed a partnership agreement with Germany, the Jewish students were no longer allowed to be Fashist boy scouts. We could still attend the Locale even though we were Jewish, but we were not allowed to be boy scouts. Nor were we allowed to participate in the Locale’s activities. We were only allowed to continue being students after that year.

As a matter of fact, my brother, who was studying in middle school at the St. Benoit Lycee, had to drop out. He later transferred to the Italian Lycee to complete his education. As for me, I attended the Italian Lycee for elementary school, middle school and high school. The elementary school building was behind the Galatasaray Lycee building. Starting from the sixth grade, I started attending the Lycee on Tomtom Street – located next to the Italian Consulate.

There, I met and became best friends with Nesim Behar, whom I still work with today in the same Jewish organizations and associations. We sat together all through elementary school, but separated at the sixth grade. This was because the sixth grade was divided into two sections; Science and Accounting. I chose to study Accounting.

Accounting was my favorite course. I graduated with six students, one of whom was a female. We all received accounting diplomas. I liked all of my teachers, most of whom were Italian. Students and teachers were very close to each other. I did not study English at school.
I do not remember witnessing any anti-Semitic behavior neither from the students nor from the teachers. After 1943, Jewish students were banned from the Fashist regime’s manifestation at Italian Schools: the boy-scout group. I must say though that we were not being brainwashed in these groups except for the behavior of one teacher. He acted as if he was truly sent here to propagandize for the Fashist government, and to become a gymnastics teacher for the boy scouts.

I graduated from the Italian Lycee in 1948. I had taken violin lessons for eight years – wile I was at school. I could play a variety of musical notes, but I, unfortunately, discontinued my lessons after graduation. Today, I cannot even remember the notes…

As to my childhood friends, I do not remember a lot about my friends in elementary school. I ended up seeing many of my friends from high school after graduation. I still meet up with some of them to this day. One of those friends is Nesim Behar, who happens to be the vice-chair of the Italian Jewish Community. I have been friends with him since elementary school.

I was very close with two friends outside of school. One was Nesim Behar, and the other was Bensiyon Cukran, who unfortunately passed away recently. We always got together in a mixed, co-ed group. We had some Catholic students in our school as well. For example, the famous script writer Giovanni Scognamillo was my classmate in high school. He was very interested in movies - even at that age – especially in horror movies and literature. His father was a mechanic in the Elhamra movie theatre.

Outside of school, we would get together with friends on Sundays, throw parties and dance…

During my years in elementary school, and the first couple of years in middle school, I was very interested in playing with maquettes. There was a store in the Yuksekkaldirim neighborhood, and its owner was Mr. Friedman [his son’s name is Dario Friedman]. Mr. Friedman sold maquette and scale model components, and other items related to the constructing of the maquettes. There were different shapes in blue printed on pieces of paper. There were white carvings on top of them. I would make a dough-like substance using water and flour, and then spread the dough on top of the pieces of paper. I would glue these together using plywood, and wait until they were completely glued. There was also a tool to create small holes; I would open holes on the pieces that were still white. I would then get a bristle and pass this through the hole. Using a handsaw, I was able to create different shapes between the blue and white pieces. Sometimes, I would use natural raisin to stick different shapes together. I remember making a horse, an ink holder and once a blue wooden tray that was red on one side. I would love to find these maquettes today. No one had taught me how to make these; I had learned it myself.

I remember buying pieces of aircraft maquettes from a store right at the beginning of Akaretler Avenue. I would construct the maquette using a cardboard by gluing the pieces together – one by one. The craft’s propeller had a rubber towards its ending. After flattening the rubber, I would turn the propeller using my hand, and the craft would start flying.

I had another passion, which, unfortunately, I did not continue. I had taken seven years of violin lessons, but stopped after graduating from high school…

I had yet another passion when I was a teenager. There was a place called the Luxemburg Palace in Istanbul. This place was a three-story building, and had several pool tables. I loved playing pool there with my friend Jak Mitrani.

I was a member of both the volleyball and basketball teams at school. I did not participate in political activities much. As for cultural activities, I read a poem for the Etifani Holiday when I was in fifth grade. In order to prepare for my presentation, my father and I went to the Sumerbank store to buy some new clothes and shoes [Etifani Holiday is a Christian holiday, during which a cross is placed in the Holy Water].

I spent most of my weekends with my parents. There was an Italian Youth Camp, which was located in Italy. The school sent some of its successful students there. My brother, for example, went there three times. I also was given the opportunity to go once in 1938, but War was about to break out, and my parents did not let me go.

In my childhood days, we did not have to use cars for transportation on a regular basis; actually there was not a big need for it. We would use the tram instead. I would walk from home to school and back because it was very close. I did not own a car when I was a teenager. I actually had a hard time in trying to get a driver’s license. I had started taking driving lessons with a Renault 4. It was a small car. Back then, the Kagithane neighborhood was filled with greenery as far as they eyes could see. I would take my driving lessons there. One day, I was sitting at the driver’s seat and everything was going fine at first. Well, until a buffalo came running onto the street. I made a quick maneuver, but, unfortunately, the car’s front bumpers crashed into a wall, and were slightly damaged. All it took was five liras to make it all good.

I remember getting on the train with my parents to go to Yesilyurt…

I spent my childhood in Buyukada…

As for my memories with my brother, I can go all the way to his engagement. He was about to get engaged to Nina Eskinazi. The first time he brought her to meet with us was pretty interesting. Back then, I was taking violin lessons, and I had started to play some good musical notes such as the Turkish National Anthem. As a coincidence, I was playing the Anthem right at the moment she walked in to meet with us. This added the event a wave of ceremonial meaning – unintentionally of course. It had stayed with all of us as an interesting memory. Whenever we get together, she tells everyone “He welcomed me with the National Anthem.”

My father hit me only once in my life, and he once hit my brother…

The reason my brother got beaten up: We were in Buyukada. He must have been about 17 or 18 years old. He was playing backgammon with a friend of his, who is now deceased. My grandmother was seriously ill at the time. My father had reminded my brother “Go see grandma, and let me know how she is doing.” My brother, however, lost track of time playing backgammon, and so forgot to visit her. My father asked “Did you go and see grandma?” My brother said “Yes I did.” “How is she doing?” “Umm, she is doing my better.” “Was she standing up? Is she able to walk around?” “Yes she was” replied my brother. My father said “Fine.”

The next day, he went to see my grandmother. Of course, she is still in bed, and cannot walk. He asks her “Why are you still in bed?” “Yes, I never left.” “But, didn’t Mair come, see you yesterday?” “No, he didn’t” she says, but later perceives what is going on. ‘Yes… he actually did visit, I am forgetting,” she says. My father, of course, is aware of what is going on. My grandmother had lied to him to save my brother.

When he came home later, he asked my brother “Did you or did you not go see your grandmother yesterday?” “Yes, I did.” “How was she?” “She was fine.” “Was she walking around?” “Yes.” “OK, you go, lay down on the bed now,” he said to my brother, and began hitting his back with his hands.

My story… Well, there was a different reason: I was about fourteen or fifteen. One Sunday afternoon, my parents had to go to a wedding. Something came up, and they were not going to be able to attend. So, my father wrote a note to the couple in a telegram. He told me “Go, post this telegram from the Galatasaray Post Office.” I went there, and posted the telegram. If I remember correctly, they charged me 13 cents for it, and gave me a receipt. I have no idea why I acted that obtrusively, but I guess I wanted to keep five cents to myself, and so I changed the number 13 to 18. I came home. My father asked “Did you post the telegram?” “Yes,” I said. “Where is the receipt?” he asked. I gave it to him. My father looked at the receipt. On top of it says eighteen (one could probably tell it was changed from thirteen though), but at the bottom it says thirteen in writing. He asked me again: “How much did you pay for this?” “Eighteen cents” I replied. “You come over here” he said. “How much did you pay for this?” He began hitting me on my back saying “You really did pay them eighteen cents? Give me my five cents back.”

In my family, all traditions mandated by our religion were strictly followed. Holidays, Pesach and the Seder of course, Rosh Hashanah… My mother would make all kinds of puddings during Shavuot. During Purim, she would make a variety of pies made with honey or “Orejas de Aman” as well as “Borekitas del muez” [quiches]. In order to make orejas de aman, she would prepare some dough first. She would then roll it out, cut it in two pieces, and fry it with vegetable oil. We would eat it with margarine and melted honey or granulated sugar.

After graduating from high school, I started going to the Italian Synagogue with my father every Saturday morning. My brother also came with us. Since then, it has become a tradition for me to go the Synagogue every Saturday morning and during important holidays. When I was a kid, I remember going to the Buyukada Synagogue every Friday evening. This was during summertime of course. I went there from when I was eight to sixteen. The chief rabbi there, Rabbi Eliya Eskinazi was a close friend of my father’s. He taught me so much. I remember saying the Mirha and Avit prayers every morning back then. Rabbi Eskinazi had also put together a chorus group, which I was a member of. We sang during some prayers read on Friday evenings and Saturday mornings. I would only go to that synagogue during summertime because it was very close to our house in Buyukada.

I received schooling on the Jewish religion when I was a kid. I also studied very hard to learn Hebrew, but unfortunately, I could not. Today, Hebrew is a widely-used language, so I regret not having learnt it.

I went to the Mahaziketora, whose name was Aavam Tahim back then. Today, the building is the 500 Years Foundation [500 Yil Vakfi]. 18 I used to take classes at Midrash on the building’s ground floor. The upper floor was a synagogue, where many wedding ceremonies took place. During summertime, there were many courses at the Midras on the Jewish History and Religion. I also learned to observe important holidays from my parents. My father and I would pray on Shabbat evenings, and study the Torah…

During the War

Unfortunately, I did not get to have bar-mitzvah ceremony because the date of the ceremony fell on September 16th-17th. World War II had broken out on the 1st of September, 1939. And, therefore, all our bar-mitzvah preparations went in vein. We were supposed to celebrate it in Buyukada. After a religious ceremony at the Buyukada Synagogue, we were planning on celebrating it on Sunday at home with my family and friends. Many people had gotten invited. I specifically remember that food was going to be served as an a-la-carte buffet. Unfortunately, everything fell through with the beginning of the War. I put on my tefilim on a Thursday, and was asked to go to the synagogue on Saturday for a prayer. That was it.
 
I liked almost all religious holidays. After all, all holidays meant fun and celebrations. During holidays we celebrated at school, for example the Epifani holiday, we would all go to Casa D’Italya. We would celebrate the Holiday with theatrical activities, and everyone would give presents to each other. We also celebrated holidays such as the 24th of May or the 19th of May Youth Holiday…

When the Holocaust was taking place in Europe, my family and I were in Turkey. Since we were Italian citizens, we did not come across any manifestation of anti-Semitism. Italy and Germany had signed a peace agreement with Turkey so as not to go to war with it. Therefore, Jews in Turkey were not affected much by what was going on in Europe at the time. I can say this tough; a wave of negative feelings and behavior toward non-Muslims had started growing steadily in Turkey. As a result, the kinds of anti-Semitic laws that we all know about were passed. These include the 20 military classes and the Wealth Tax. 19

At school, until 1942, all students continued to be a part of the boy-scout groups, and wear black-shirted uniforms. When Italy joined the War next to Germany, the Jews in these groups were banned from being a boy-scout, and participating in the activities. But, my education at school continued as usual.

I do not have many memories about wartime. All I remember is that many foods were distributed based on a ration system. Everyone, for example, had a right to have half a loaf of bread daily. This was distributed with a ration ticket for bread. Coffee was also distributed based on ration tickets. Everyone one had to get their tickets as well as an official communication of demography and residence from the village headmen.

We had heard here that the Holocaust was taking place against European Jewry, and that the Jews were being sent to death camps. There was not a lot of news in the papers about that. We were following the events from the radio.

Actually, I had some relatives, who had managed to escape from Europe. They were initially living in the city Plovdiv in Bulgaria. One of my relatives had wanted to escape to Israel by ship. The ship, El Salvador, had arrived in Turkish waters, and stayed at the port for a period of 24 hours. Unfortunately, after that, the Turkish posts forced the ship and its passengers to vacate Turkish waters. The ship got destroyed due to a terrible storm close the Silivri Island, and sank. Most of its passengers, unfortunately, drowned. One of my wife’s relatives, Elvira Yahni [Yahni is her maiden name], however, managed to survive. She apparently was traveling with her boyfriend on the ship. When the ship started sinking, they managed to hold onto a piece of wood, and survived. She later returned to Bulgaria, and immigrated to the land of Israel afterwards with a different ship.

We received news about the Struma ship as well, and that it was one of the ships that sank in open waters. Its destination was also the land of Israel, but it, unfortunately, never arrived there.

When the Wealth Tax was implemented, the Government imposed a tax of 22,500 Liras for our family. My father could only pay 2,500 Liras, and he deposited this amount at the Treasury. His financial situation did not enable him to pay any more than the amount he had already paid for. Of course, since we were Italian citizens, my father decided to talk to the Consulate about this matter. He officially declared that he could not pay for the entire amount he was taxed. The Italian Consulate, in turn, forwarded this information to the Treasury Department. They were able to lower the tax from 25,000 Liras down to 10,000 Liras.

This was the best my father could hope for, but he still could not afford to pay this much money. He resisted payment as much as he could. But, one day, people came to our house and told us they came to seize all our belongings. My father was extremely disappointed. To this day, I do not know how he came up with the money, but on the 15th of March, 1944, he deposited 10,000 Liras to the Treasury, and paid his debt. That night, we heard on the radio that the Wealth Tax was abolished. I think that my father paid that 10,000 Liras just so the Government could not seize our house in Buyukada. It was his family’s home, and it had a huge significance for him. He never told us how he came up with the money…

I remember one more thing about the Wealth Tax; all the other non-Muslim families living in our apartment building were sent to Askale. Our now deceased doorman, Mehmet, was a person who loved and cared about all families living in his building. There was a laundry room and a grain cellar all the way on the top floor of our building. Our doorman took his son with him, and – without any hesitation – moved most of the families’ valuable furniture such as bedroom furniture, living room furniture, couches, etc up to the grain cellar. They did this every night at midnight. In this way, he was able to save so many of the families’ belongings from seizure. Still, the Government seized so much furniture. Since we were Italian citizens, my father was not sent to Askale because this law did not apply to non-Turkish citizens.

I do not have a lot of information about the 20 Military classes. I did not have serve in this unit since I was an Italian citizen. As far as I know though, they sent 20 military classes to Anatolia to supposedly work on construction projects.

As far as I remember, the “Citizen, Speak Turkish” policy was propaganda initiated by the then President, Ismet Inonu. They were forcing everyone to speak Turkish. So much so that if they heard someone speaking another language on the street, they would warn him/her: “Citizen, Speak Turkish!” Walls were covered with campaign posters. 20

I do not exactly remember the Thrace events… 21

I do remember the Events of 6th-7th of September very well for I had just returned from the Izmir Fair on the 6th of September. 22 When I came back to Istanbul, I went directly to my drapery store. I had an employee there named Suleyman. My wife was staying at her mother’s place in Sishane with my elder son. That night, I was going to go over to my mother-in-law’s house after work, take my wife and son, and go back to our house in Sisli. My employee, Suleyman, however warned me “Mosyo, I don’t think it is a good idea for you to go to your house in Sisli tonight. Go directly to your mother-in-law’s house, and whatever happens, do not leave her house.”

In fact, I began hearing loud noises and clatter coming from the street around eight o’clock in the evening. People were screaming and running in herds. As all this was going on, I remember Suleyman knocking on the door and saying “It’s me, open up.” He came in, and climbed the stairs. He advised “Turn off the lights, do not go into the balcony, and act as if you are not at home. I will be guarding the front door. Please do not even look out from the window.”

There was a bakery called Andon across the street from my house. The insurgents broke all the store’s windows, and threw everything outside including the baked goods. Actually, at one time, the insurgents tried to break the windows of a bakery store one floor below from us. Thankfully, Suleyman intervened and said to the insurgents “This is my store, and I am a Muslim. You cannot touch this store.” They did not cause any damage to the bakery.

Suleyman had also phoned my brother and sister, who both were in Buyukada at the time to warn them. He told them to put up their flags, turn off all the lights, and not leave their apartments.

When we woke up the next morning, everything and everywhere was in ruins. Every store’s goods were on the streets. There were even refrigerators and washing machines out on the streets. The insurgents did destroy many stores and their goods in Buyukada as well. They especially caused a lot of damage to Greek stores in Buyukada.

My wife, Ester Modiano, was born in Plovdiv, Bulgaria in 1927. She was born seven months old, and the doctors did not have much hope for her to live. Her maiden name is Yahni. As far as I remember, her mother was born in Haskoy, Istanbul.

Since Ester was born in Bulgaria, her native tongue in Bulgarian. At the same time, she speaks French very well because she studied at a French school. She also had the opportunity to learn Hebrew while she was in Bulgaria. She finished elementary school at Saint Joseph in 1937. She was a very successful student. Unfortunately, she had to drop out of school at seventh grade because of the War. She had to leave Bulgaria. 

I am not sure as to how my wife’s father first settled in Bulgaria. I know that he had three siblings, and that they were all working in a toy and artificial flower plant, where thirty other Turkish employees were working. I know that Ester’s father also had an import business. Once, a shipment of goods he ordered from Germany was sent to Istanbul by mistake. They were supposed to arrive in Bulgaria through ship having passed through the Danube River and the city of Varna. Ester’s father went to Istanbul in an effort to track down the shipment. While he was In Istanbul, he visited his aunt, who had a talent for embroidery. There, he met my mother-in-law, Luna. Luna earned her living by embroidery after her father passed away. Anyway, the aunt tells Ester’s father “I have found you a very nice girl.” As soon as he laid eyes on Luna, he fell in love with her. Before he asked her parents’ permission, he wanted to learn her opinion about moving to Bulgaria, and living there.

Well, they got married in three months. Avram and Luna Yahni began living in the city of Plovdiv in Bulgaria. They had three daughters named Dorette, Ester and Suzi, all of whom were born in Bulgaria. Dorette was going to a French school just like Ester. She was later awarded a scholarship to attend Sorbonne University. The political conditions in Europe because of the War, however, prevented her from attending. Dorette was nine years older than Ester, and was born in 1918. She used to present conferences at school on French Literature. She got married when she was only 19, and she gave birth to a son. During the War, my wife Ester came to Istanbul from Bulgaria with her family. Dorette, however, was unable to travel because she had meningitis. She had to stay in Bulgaria with her husband and son (Albert). She must have passed there, because my wife tirelessly searched for her after the War, but she could not come up with anything. I believe Albert later became an aircraft engineer in Israel.

Suzi is Ester’s younger sister. She was born in 1938. She had to drop out of school in Bulgaria, because her family moved to Istanbul during the War. She attended the Karma High School in Istanbul for a while, but she caught asthma at a very young age due to the high level of humidity present in Istanbul’s air. She suffered from asthma all throughout her life. She did not get married. When I got married to Ester, Suzi started living at our house. She lived with us until she got into a diabetic shock in 2001. We transferred her to a retirement center in the Haskoy neighborhood after that. She passed away in 2004.

When my wife was attending third grade in elementary school, anti-Semitic waves had started becoming a reality in Bulgaria. The Jewish people were forced to wear the six-edged, yellow Star of David on their chests so as to identify who they were. The Turkish Consulate-General in Bulgaria was a very nice, whole-hearted man. Ester does not remember his name. Since Ester and her family were still Turkish citizens, he summoned them to the Consulate one day, and told them that they needed to urgently leave the country, and that it was not possible for them to survive the death camps once they were there.

Being a 13 or 14 year old kid, just starting to get to know life, and wanting to become a French teacher in the future, Ester, had to leave behind all her wishes and hopes in Bulgaria. She went to Turkey by train. Three months after she arrived in Istanbul, her parents and her sister, Dorette, arrived in Istanbul as well (I believe that was in 1940) [Her family spent their first couple of days in Istanbul at a hotel in the Sirkeci neighborhood.] Ester’s father, who was quite wealthy in Bulgaria, suffered great financial troubles during the period he lived in Istanbul. He could not accept this situation, and he committed suicide a year or two after his arrival in the country. I believe it was the second day of Shavuot in 1948…

Ester’s mother, Luna, suffered a panic attack in 1960, during my son Alberto’s circumcision ceremony. She was actually carrying Alberto from the maternity room to the ceremony hall downstairs when it happened. Luckily, my sister was bale to save Alberto at the last minute. Unfortunately, however, my mother-in-law suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, and was immediately taken to the French Hospital. She lived for another week, maybe ten days, before she finally passed. My sister-in-law, Suzan Yahni, stayed with us from that day to the day she passed.

Anyway, back to when Ester’s family first came to Istanbul… After living in Sirkeci for a couple of days, her mother’s younger sister gave the family two rooms in her house to sleep in. They lived there for a couple of months. Afterwards, they moved to an old house on Mektep Street in the Sishane neighborhood. The money they had brought with them drained very quickly. They went through tough times financially. In all this while, Ester had started comprehending Turkish. She also started working because the family’s financial condition was quite rough. She first got a job at a stationary store. When the owner of the store sexually harassed her, however, she immediately quit that job. Luckily, she was able to locate a job through a friend at the Odeon Company’s Accounting Department. She worked there until we got married.

She became very good friends with a lady named Rachel Adato while she was working there. She also became the star of the department, and was quickly recognized by the owner of the Company. They began trusting her with secret Company information. My wife was taking care of most of the workload for the Department. She was working at the Company’s headquarters location. Odeon had three branch offices; in Kadikoy, Sirkeci and Beyoglu. She was controlling all incoming and outgoing goods to and from these branches, and trying hard not to make a mistake. As an accountant, she also had the opportunity to provide financial services for many famous persons such as Munir Nurettin Selcuk, Zeki Muren and Muzeyyen Senar.

At the time, I was governing Misne Tora’s [an association founded to help support poor school children] Youth Commission, and there was a wave of new candidates applying to become members of the Association. I, of course, had a secretary working with me - given my status as the President. Whenever a candidate wanted to apply, my secretary would have him/her fill out a form, and include a picture on his/her application.

I remember joking about it with my secretary when my wife-to-be’s application form arrived on my desk. I said to her “What is this, are we going to open up a school here or what?” because the picture my wife submitted with her application form was one that was taken when she was a student. My secretary said to me “You accept her membership, and then we can deal with it later.” My wife actually became a member 15 days after that. The first meeting she attended was during a Purim ball. She was sitting by herself on one corner of the ballroom. I asked my secretary “Who is this lady sitting over there at the corner?” She responded “That would be your student.”

As a coincidence, we were supposed to have our Association’s 50th-year meetings in a week’s time. A bunch of us decided to take the day off, and go somewhere. Some of us were going to Yesilkoy, and others were going to go to Tarabya. I was actually going to meet a lady friend at 3:00 PM in Tunel. I remember waiting for her until 3:30 PM, but she never showed. Well, I decided to go over to Tarabya to meet my friends there. My wife-to-be was there as well. This was my opportunity to see her in a closer manner. After Tarabya, my friends decided to go over to the municipal casino in Taksim, where the Ceylan Hotel stands today. I invited my wife there as my friend. We started dating shortly after.

My wife and I were dating around the same time she was working at Odeon. We were not sure as to whether we both wanted to get married. Plus, my family did not have a final decision. In an effort to get to know Ester better, my father went over to her workplace with an excuse for wanting to buy a three-wheeled bicycle for his nephew. He was also very close with Ester’s managers. There, he had an opportunity to see her and talk to her even though it was not too comprehensive a talk. Her managers, meanwhile, had given for her excellent references. In the end, my father decided that Ester and I should get married.

After the War

We got engaged on the 28th of May, 1952. We stayed engaged for about a year, and then got married on the 31st of May in 1953 at the Italian Synagogue. My father was a member of the Governing Board for the Italian Jewish Community in Turkey. This is probably why our wedding was really crowded and colorful. At the same time, my father was a member of the ‘Fakirleri Koruma Dernegi [Support Center for the Poor]. 23 So, all members from there attended our wedding with their significant others. Our whole family was also a member of the Misne Tora, and so all members from the Association attended our wedding as well. Actually, members of the Misne Tora put together a ceremony team for the special day. It was composed of ten male and ten female schoolchildren dressed in clothing specifically prepared for our wedding.

The 24th of March, 1999 fell on a Wednesday, and we had a meeting that day at the house of the Italian Jewish Community’s President. When the meeting was over, I came back home. That was when I learned that my wife had been in an accident. Like every week, that Wednesday, my wife was supposed to get together with her friends to play bridge. They had set the table ready for teatime at 5:00 PM. At about 3:15 PM, the electricity went out, and she wanted to go downstairs to open the apartment door so that other friends arriving could come in easily. Just as she was going down the stairs from the third floor towards the second, she fell and hit her head. She suffered a brain trauma. She was bleeding everywhere…

Dora Adut, her neighbor from the third floor, immediately took her to the Etfal Hospital. She had lost so much blood. By the time they reached the hospital, she had developed a cloth to her brain because of all the bleeding. That night, she was urgently taken to the emergency room for surgery. Her surgery took about five hours.

After the surgery, she continued to be kept at the emergency room of the Neurology Department for an additional two days. The hospital’s respiratory machines were, unfortunately, not sufficient for my wife’s condition, so she was transferred to the emergency room at the Cerraphasa Hospital’s Neurology Department in an ambulance. Her doctor there was Moiz Behar, who happened to be one of the most talented doctors in the Jewish community. Her 26-day emergency room stay passed as if she was in a vegetative state. She was later transferred to a regular room within the hospital, where she stayed for two more weeks. After that, she was transferred for a third time to the Balat Or Ahayim Hospital. 24 She continued receiving medical attention there for 26 more days. Only after that was she able to return home. Unfortunately, one year after this terrible accident, she broke her hip bone. Today, she can take care of all her needs herself…

I co-owned a drapery business with my brother between 1950 and 1958. We frequently did business in Anatolia. At the same time, I did some factory representation as well as helping my father with his insurance business. After my brother left for Canada, I began focusing solely on representation and exporting work. I did continue helping my father with the insurance business though. In later years, insurance brokerage became my main line of business. I retired last year, and sold my insurance agency to a friend because of financial difficulties.

At the beginning of the 60’s, I was trying to operate the insurance agency I took over from my father. According to the insurance laws in Turkey, a foreign national could not operate an insurance agency. That is why the agency was under my wife’s name. I wanted to become a Turkish citizen myself so that I could transfer the agency to my name. I submitted a request, but I was told that I had to bring a document with my application stating that I was no longer an Italian citizen. Once I completed this step, I had to submit a petition to become a Turkish national. I asked the government office “When do you think I can officially become a Turkish citizen?” They did not, however, give me a positive response. All I knew was that – depending on the result of the petition – this could take anywhere between six months and three years.

Moreover, when the petition is approved, my case was going to go to the Council of Ministers for processing. First, the Ministers’ approval is needed. After that, the President officially declares that a case is approved, and the approval is declared in the official newspaper. I asked “What citizenship am I supposed to hold in the meantime?” I was told that I could be given a temporary passport until then, but it was not going to be a Turkish passport. I did not want to be a person with this regular a passport, so I decided to continue being an Italian citizen.

My kids do not work in the insurance business. Nor do they want to learn anything about the business. My biggest desire was to be able to work with my children, and to transfer my business over to them someday. This did not happen though. Every one of them has different jobs today.

I have three children. One of them, unfortunately, passed in 1958 – eight days after he was born. He passed when a neglectful nurse was carrying her from the hospital to the salon, where he was going to be circumcised. Since he was only eight days old and was not yet circumcised before he passed, we could not give him a name. He was buried without one. One of the rabbis in the Italian Jewish community took our baby with him to an Italian Cemetery, performed his circumcision, and buried him there.

All my three children were born in Istanbul. Saul was born on the 15th of December, 1954. My son, who passed was born in 1956. My younger son, Alberto, was born on the 20th of November, 1960. Ester and I usually speak to the children in Turkish though both know Spanish, French and English.

My wife was the one who usually took care of the children. I would go to work early in the morning, and come home late. On weekends, however, I would take care of them, and we would usually go out together as a family. I believe that I have shown them the compassion a father should be able to show his children. I always tried helping them with their studies. Even though my wife had to drop out of school at seventh grade, she managed to continue educating herself at home, and augment her knowledge.

We have been living in the same apartment since my wife and I got married.

We used to go to the movies, plays and concerts together – as a family. At one time actually, we became members of the Konak Movie Theater in the Harbiye neighborhood. We went there every Sunday to see a movie. Before my wife had the accident, she used to go to the concerts that took place at the Ataturk Cultural Center every Saturday morning. I would come home on Saturdays after the morning prayer at the Synagogue, and read the paper or a book. We would go out together in the afternoons. On Sundays, we usually got together with three other families. The women played bridges together, and the men usually watched TV or chatted.

We went to Buyukada every summer. We had our own house there, so there was no need really to take a vacation and go somewhere during the summer. Only after selling that house in 1995, we began taking week-long vacations to Europe or different cities in Anatolia such as Cesme with some friends.

I used to frequently travel for business – mostly to Europe. I went to Italy, France, Belgium and Israel. My wife and I also took many trips to Europe with another couple.

The vacations I spent in Buyukada can be classified into several different periods - my childhood years, my teenage years, years when I was single and older, and finally my married years… When I talk about my childhood years in Buyukada, the first thing that comes to my mind is that we were four close friends back then. In fact, one of them recently passed away. His mother had a large dishwashing sink, which we used as a rowboat in the sea. I remember that once we almost drowned using that.

None of my children went to a Jewish school here, but they did go to the synagogue regularly when they were teenagers in order to attend Hebrew classes. They became members of the Arkadaslik Yurdu Dernegi [Friendship Center and Association] when they were teenagers, and participated in many activities there. I raised my children according to Jewish traditions. My children do not regularly go to the synagogue nowadays, but they do try and go on Yom Kippur or on some Saturday mornings – if they have the time.
    
The bar-mitzvah ceremonies for both my children were held at the Italian Synagogue on a Saturday. I remember them putting on the tefilim on a Thursday. On Saturday evening of the same week, we gave a cocktail party for friends and family; we cut the Bar-mitzvah cake…

I remember the berit-mila [circumcision ceremony] of both my children. In fact, my mother-in-law got sick during the circumcision ceremony of my younger son. Thank God, we were able to hold the ceremony as we wanted.

As for the important Holidays I celebrate, I love celebrating Rosh Hashanah and Pesach, both of which are Seder holidays. I also used to celebrate the Tubisvat Holiday for fruits and nuts so that my children would grow up knowing what it is for, but I do not celebrate it anymore.

My wife was a very good cook on her healthier days. She cooked a wide variety of foods, and all of them very well. She used to bake delicious cakes. I like all her cooking delights, so I cannot really choose one food over the other.

My parents were both religious people. They raised us so that we learned how to observe and behave according to important traditions. My kids are interested in their religion today as a result of experiencing my parents’ and my religious behavior.

Both my parents are buried in the Sisli Italian Cemetery as part of the Italian Jewish Community. My wife’s parents are buried at the Haskoy cemetery. I had the opportunity to read the Kadis prayer during their burial ceremony. My mother passed away one day before the Aasara Betevet Tubishvat Holiday. My father, on the other hand, passed on the fourth night of Pesach.

Almost all of the friends I have had to this date are Jewish. We used to get together with them at a couple’s house every week; the women played bridges and the men either chatted or watched TV. When I got together with my friends, our subjects of conversation were Israel, the fighting over there, and how the Country could grow. We used to exchange opinions on these subjects.

Both my children live in Istanbul today. My elder son, Saul, studied at the Sisli Ondokuzmayis Elementary School, at the Saint Benoit Lycee for middle school and at the Beyoglu Commerce Lycee for high school. He graduated from there at 18. He served in the military between 1979-80. He worked in a variety of businesses including insurance, tourism and textile businesses. Last year, he retired (officially) from his work as the Import-Export Manager of a firm that sells baby products, but he is still considered the Import-Export Manager of the firm today.

My younger son, Alberto, also went to the Sisli Ondokuzmayis Elementary School. He later began attending the private Hurriyet Lycee, and graduated from there. He served his military term in Van [a city on the Eastern side of Turkey] between 1982-83. Before he served, he was managing a cosmetics and perfume store in Buyukada with his mom. After he completed his military service, he began working as an accountant in a cargo business. He later took a job as the Accounting Manager of an international firm. He had been an accountant for seventeen years when my wife got into that terrible accident. This was when his occupation as an Accounting Manager came to an end. During the period in which he was unemployed, he got interested in photography. He was able to become a successful professional at a job he once viewed as a hobby. He is now working as a photographer for the Chief Rabbi’s Office and the Neve Salom Foundation. He has become quite successful. Whenever there is a ceremony or a party during which the services of a photographer will be needed, my son is there. He is also a researcher of photography.

The founding of Israel gave me tremendous pleasure and excitement. That day, I remember going over to the Consulate of Israel in Taksim, and watched as they hanged up the flag. I was so incredibly excited during that ceremony. My wife and I always try and follow important news about Israel. 

I did not really consider Aliya, or immigrating to Israel because of both my work here in Turkey and my age. But, I have visited Israel on many occasions, and seen many of its cities. My wife has some relatives there. My sister also immigrated there with her son a while back. I have so many friends, who have immigrated there. I try to keep in touch with some of them today. Some of them visit me when they come to Istanbul. Most of these people are my wife’s old friends and relatives. I do not remember having any problems here after the 1967 Six-Day-War.

I have a 42 year history at the FKD; the Association for Protecting the Poor. In fact, I was given an award when I completed my 40th year there as a member. I have also been a member of the Governing Council for the Italian Community since 1972. I have always tried to be an active participant in several other associations and support centers.

I have participated in many conferences. I remember giving a speech at the Kneset Israel Synagogue. That day, a ceremony was being held in honor of the FKD’s 50th-year anniversary. As the President of the Youth Commission, I gave a speech covering the activities of the Commission.

In 1975, I became a founding member of the Beyazit Lions Club, and started participating in several of the Club’s activities. I worked there for approximately 15 years as the President of a variety of Commissions within the Club. I retired from my volunteer work because of my age. I have also become a member of the Turk Yukseltme Vakfi [Turkish Ennobling Foundation], and volunteered there for a couple of years before retiring.
  
I always try and keep up with my religious duties. My favorite pastime and biggest desire is to go to the Synagogue on Saturday mornings and during important holidays.

I do not use e-mail or the internet.

My wife used to take care of the cooking in our house until she had that terrible accident. After the accident, we had to hire an attendant to help with the cooking and other housework. She cooks all our food nowadays.
 
Unfortunately, because of my wife’s medical condition, we do not get to see many of our old friends anymore. But, some of these friends call us to see how we are doing every chance they get. In this way, we are able to keep in touch with some of them.

I do not have a lot of political perspectives. I do not feel really bound by any political perspective because of my foreign citizenship.

I was at the Buyukada Synagogue, praying, when the 1986 Neve Salom massacre happened. 25 I actually happened to be sitting right next to the phone. The person sitting next to me answered the phone when it rang, and received the terrible news. None of us was really able to fully comprehend what had happened. I can say that we were quite shocked.

When the 2003 bombings took place, I was at the Italian Synagogue I always go to. 26 The Italian Synagogue happens to be just a few blocks away from the Neve Salom Synagogue, which was bombed. When I heard the explosion, I felt as if the Synagogue’s building I was in shook just a little bit. Thank God, there was not any damage to the building. I remember leaving though in the middle of the prayer’s, and passing through the Bankalar Street in trying to get home as soon as possible.

My wife and I speak French, Turkish or Spanish between each other. We speak Turkish, and sometimes French with our kids.

GLOSSARY