Travel

Mera Shulman


I got acquainted with Ms. Mera Alterovna Shulman a month before her eightieth birthday. She is a short gray-haired woman with young eyes. She lives with her husband and daughter in a three-room apartment in one of new districts of St. Petersburg. You can do nothing but to show jealousy of her vital energy. Life of Mera Alterovna is interesting and rich. Her feverish activity permits her to meet a lot of people of different ages and professions. Possibly this particular situation serves as a source of her zest for life. Remarkably clear intellect of Mera Alterovna has kept for us numerous invaluable facts and details of her own life, life of her relatives, and life of the whole generation. She shares memories of her past generously, holding her time cheap. She takes us to nooks and corners of her memory and regardless of her own, informs us about terrible and painful details of her biography.

My family background

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family background

I was born in Riga [Latvia] in 1925. Unfortunately I know nothing about my remote ancestors. The most remote ones I can tell about are my grandfathers and grandmothers. But my both grandmothers lived before my time. At the very beginning I’d like to tell that there were no aristocrats in our family. My paternal grandfather’s name was Leyb Shulman. He was a shoemaker and lived in Livani (a small town to northwest from Daugavpils in Latvia). His wife name was Haya-Dina. I do not remember her maiden name. My grandfather died in Riga in 1930 and was buried at the Jewish cemetery.

My maternal grandfather Hirsh-Leyb Kravets was a tailor. One day he gave up his business and became an owner of a furniture store. It seems to me he had several stores. My grandfather perished during World War II on the territory of the Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic. We do not know neither the way he died, nor when it happened. My maternal grandmother was Mera-Krenda, I do not remember her maiden name. I was named in her memory, but the second part of my name was lost when I received my passport. It happened because I was never called Mera-Krenda, always Mera. That is why we decided to register me as Mera Shulman.

My grandmothers and grandfathers, both maternal and paternal spoke only Yiddish. My paternal grandfather wore kippah; and my mother’s father put on kippah only to visit synagogue. Both my grandmothers wore wigs. Unfortunately I do not remember their style of dressing.

My maternal grandfather lived in a huge apartment in the center of Riga. In his apartment there were five or seven large rooms. After the death of his first wife (my grandmother) my grandfather lived there with his second wife.

In that apartment there was electricity and water supply, but no bath-room: they had to go to a bath-house. There was stove heating. The apartment was well furnished for that time. They had no garden, because the apartment was situated in the city center. I can not tell exactly if they had servants, it seems to me there was a house maid. No one played with children, except the parents.

My paternal father had a house in Livani, where I spent first five years of my life. This sort of houses keep their visage for years, therefore I think, that at that time I found it the same as it was long before. Its outer entrance hall was very dark: the walls were papered with Russian newspapers. Russian letters seemed to me very strange, and at the age of three I asked my Mum ‘What do these hen tracks mean?‘ Mum named the letters, and that was the way I learned to read Russian. Earlier there was a garden around the house, but later it disappeared. I got to know about it from my father: there grew plum-trees, they gave rich harvest. Grandfather sent my daddy to collect plums from the ground, and my daddy simply opened the garden gate and let in pigs from the neighboring gentile’s garden; the pigs quickly helped my daddy to manage his task.

My maternal grandfather was not religious. However, observing Jewish holidays, he arranged circumcision for all his sons. He visited synagogue on holidays and sometimes on Fridays. Sabbath celebration at his house was something like celebratory family dinner. Kashrut observance was reduced to purchasing of kosher meat. They never bought non-kosher meat. Jewish holidays were celebrated without fail.

My paternal grandfather wore kippah, prayed three times a day, put on tefillin – so in a word, he was a real Jew.

I can tell nothing about political views of my grandfathers. But I know for sure that they were members of no political parties.

My memory keeps almost nothing about their neighbors. From the story about pigs it is clear, that the neighbors were different: both Jews and gentiles. Livani was, perhaps, more Jewish shtetl, but many Latvians lived there too. Daddy told about their neighbor, a tailor Moshe Sandler. When he wrote down client's measurements, he wrote ‘Di’ and then the figure. Then again ‘Di’ and again figure. His explanation was the following ‘The first ‘Di’ means ‘Di Leng’ [length], and the second ‘Di’ means ‘Di Breyt’ [width].

Unfortunately I remember nothing about friends of my grandmothers and grandfathers, about their circle of acquaintance.

When children of my grandmothers and grandfathers were little, families lived in small towns, therefore they never left anywhere for vacation (as was customary).

Unfortunately I can tell nothing about brothers and sisters of my grandmothers and grandfathers.

I also can remember nothing connected with military service of my grandfathers. I think that they had no army experience.

My paternal grandfather was very silent and modest man. He had typical appearance of a handsome Jew. He frequently walked around the house wearing tallit and tefillin. He used to read siddur. He never played with children. Probably his character was influenced by the absence of one eye: once being engaged in sewing boots, he wounded his eye by an awl and his eye came out.

Another grandfather was more sociable, loved his grandsons and played with them. Grandfather’s shop was situated in the same street with my school, and we usually met in the morning at a bus stop and went in the same bus. I was happy: he always returned me money for my bus ticket (and I already had money for ticket from my parents!), and sometimes gave me some more money. Most often the given sum averaged 32 kopecks – enough for four bus trips! Once I was late for the bus and managed to see only my grandfather’s fluttering raincoat. It was wormwood to me. Of course the point was not only and not so much as money: my grandfather loved me very much, and I returned his feelings. You see, I was his elder (and the only one during four years) granddaughter.

I always loved my native city Riga very much. It was a large and beautiful city, and so many relatives and friends I had there before the war! We liked to walk round the city, to date near the famous clock in the city center! I do not know the number of Jews there, but I know for sure that they were many. I also can tell nothing about the Riga Jewish community: this term was not in use at that time. In the city there were several synagogues. I remember the following names: Gogolshul, Petershul [the synagogues were called this way due to the names of streets they were situated in: Gogol Street and Peter Street] and a Jewish cemetery. Certainly, there were both rabbis, cantors and shokhetim, I do not know how many they were. I remember that my Mum bought hens in the market and carried them to shokhet. And in 1936, when my brother was born, they arranged circumcision for him on the eighth day (according to Tradition) directly in the maternity house, where my Mum gave him birth. So he was discharged from the maternity house being a Jew already.

In my childhood there were no more cheders in Riga. And my daddy finished cheder. The schoolboys were guaranteed that after they finished that educational institution they would be able to write ‘Jewish letter with Russian address’. That was their maximum program. By the way, I keep my father’s letter in Russian: ‘My dear children, I am safe and sound, and wish you the same.‘ that is full of characteristically Jewish mistakes. There were a lot of different Jewish schools there: Hebrew, Yiddish, and Hebrew with Ashkenazi bias. Among these schools there were both secular and religious ones. In Riga there were Jewish hospitals. People could choose a hospital according to their income: expensive ones, of average cost or charity hospitals for poor. There were mikves at the city bath-houses.

There was no special place (ghetto) in Riga for compact residing of Jews. Jews lived in apartments they could afford.

My parents had friends and we made friends with their children (our coevals). I remember that at first friends of my parents lived in a magnificent apartment. And later when we decided to visit them, I was surprised that we went to a different street. There we saw a dilapidated apartment. It turned out that the head of the family (their surname was Ghershuni) lost his work and they had to find a cheaper lodging. It was unpleasant, but had no relation to their Jewish origin.

I can not remember a house in Riga without electricity or water supply. I know nothing about typical occupations of Jews in Riga.

I do not remember any special manifestations of Anti-Semitism in my childhood. Perhaps only one unpleasant episode comes to my memory. One day in the park a lot of people gathered to celebrate some holiday (I do not remember what holiday exactly). Schoolchildren took seats in front of the rostrum. Front rows were occupied by schoolboys of a Latvian school (I studied at Hebrew school). They saw us and started bothering us. We simply left, and on our way spoke to each other ‘Was it necessary for us to be present there? Haven’t we ever seen gentiles?‘ It was very unpleasant, but not insulting. We felt confident because we were able to choose school, friends, environment; we did not feel bound down. I had no friends among Latvian children; it was enough for me to have friends among ours.

For some reason I do not remember any military holidays. I remember Mother’s Day [the first Sunday in May] and Independence Day [Latvian holiday, the Republic declared its independence on the 18th of November, 1918.]. I remember well red-white-red Latvian banners. I remember and can sing the National Anthem of Latvia: ‘Dievs, sveti Latviju mus dargo teviju, sveti jel Latviju, ak sveti jel to! Kur latvju meitas zied! Kur latvju deli dzied, laid mums tur laime diet, mus Latvija!’ [The National Anthem of Latvia, composed by Karlis Baumanis became official in 1918. In English translation it follows: Bless Latvia, O God/Our verdant native land sod/Where Baltic heroes trod/Our lovely daughters near. Our singing sons appear/May Fortune smiling here/Grace Latvia!]

Visiting market was not considered in our family to be a man's occupation. It was Mum’s duty. Daddy went to the market only if Mum was sick. They both always bought food at certain dealers, the market was very large, but my Mum always knew whom to address. They bought food not only in the market, but also in shops. They often visited a shop, which belonged to a Jewish person. My parents made friends with him and his wife and always invited them to our family holidays.

The most important political events of those years I remember only at a child's level. In 1939 in Riga suddenly appeared two girls from Poland. One of them was assisted to get a job of a parlourmaid and the other one started working as a cleaner in the shop, which belonged to a Jew. They were accommodated in the house of my maternal grandfather’s friends. The girls told a lot about fascists [the Nazi occupiers] in Poland. People gathered clothes and money for them and sent them back to Poland at the end of summer. The girls were going to spend money for buying a stove, because at home their old stove had been absolutely broken. Later I realized that it was an echo of the future war. But already at that period I understood how good was the level of our life in comparison with life of those poor girls.

I do not remember any important political events and do not remember my parents discussing something of that kind. I do not remember at all any political conversations at home. It seems to me that at that time people were politicized very little. Is it possible to be a characteristic feature of Jews in Latvia?

I’d like to tell you about my parents. My father Shulman Alter Leybovich was born in 1901 in Livani. He died on September 9th, 1980 after a serious incurable illness.

My Mum Shulman, nee Kravets Haya Hirsh-Leybovna was born on March 24th, 1902. She died on June 5th, 1966 from blood-stroke and was buried in Riga at the Jewish cemetery.

The first profession of my father was a cutter of footwear. In 1930 he got a job of salesman in furniture shop, which belonged to his father-in-law.

Later he opened his own furniture shop. In Riga there was a department store - a large wooden construction. There were a lot of furniture shops in it. My father rented one of them. In the period of 1930-1940, i.e. before the Soviets came to power my father was an owner.

My father was very clever and purposeful man. He always looked only forward and was very enterprising. But he was hard to get on with. Being offended by his relatives, he could have kept silence for half a year.

My mother was much easier to get on with. She suffered much, because her husband was a difficult man, but he gave her his full support.

Father loved all his children very much. He really adored his son, who was born 11 years after me. Father expected a son both instead of me and instead of my younger sister. He loved his daughters too, but if at the time when we were doing our homework his son wanted to walk on the table, he was allowed to do it. Daddy simply said to me and my sister ‘Take away your copybooks for a minute.‘ I remember the following. My sister was ill with diphtheria at the age of 5. Doctor came and said that some medicine was urgently required, and that delay is deathlike. And it was about midnight. Father ran to a drugstore, which turned out to be already closed. He broke out its door, expecting that the noise would attract somebody’s attention. And it happened: the indignant druggist came running, but having learnt about the point, he gave my father the medicine saying no word, and the girl was saved.

I remember my Mum always bustling about the house. She both cooked, and washed, and did the rooms.

My parents differed greatly in their educational level. Mother was much better educated than father. She finished a high school, therefore she knew Russian well. She brought me up in Russian language. I really imbibed it with my mother milk. Mum made an agreement with my father that he would not spoil me with his Yiddish. That was why while I was a little girl, my Daddy was almost silent. Father’s relatives told him ‘Oh, why did you marry an educated girl – will she count grains before putting them into the copper?‘ And Daddy answered ‘No, she will not count grains, she will train the child and help him to do lessons.‘ My father realized the value of education very well, though he himself lacked it so much. Most of all my father aspired to give education to his children. He was so proud that all his children became engineers! Imagine, what the status of engineer meant for the person who had finished two classes of cheder and was able only to write ‘a Jewish letter with Russian address’. This expression I heard from my father – in his time they ironically called this way the educational program at cheder. Mother tongue of my parents was Yiddish. They both spoke Lettish [Latvian], and Mum also knew Russian. Almost all Jews in Latvia spoke 3 languages. Spending our time in a court yard, we spoke both Russian, and German, and Yiddish, and Hebrew. It was a real discordant chorus. I was surprised, when I got to know that in Russia children study only one foreign language.

Nobody introduced my parents to each other. Daddy had courted a girl, who emigrated to America. She was a daughter of the owner of that furniture shop, where he worked as a salesman. Daddy went to rabbi and said ‘What shall I do? I am ready to follow my beloved girl to America.‘ And rabbi answered ‘Оh look, he has not enough Jewish girls here! He will go to that America!‘ At that time Daddy met my Mum. He invited her to the cinema and they went on. Certainly they got married in the synagogue under chuppah according to the tradition. My parents always dressed as secular people though.

Our parents rarely punished children. I mean corporal punishment. I already told you that Daddy stopped talking with us, when he was angry. But there were some exceptions, and one case I remember very well. I was 7 years old, and my sister was 2 years old. We lived on a high first floor. Below our window there was an abat-jour above the entrance door to the semi-basement. Together with my sister we climbed out to that abat-jour and were sitting there, kicking legs up and down. Our neighbors saw us, got very frightened and told everything to Mum. She complained to Daddy about us. He whipped me strongly, but I consider it to be fair.

Financial position of our family was quite stable. Mum never worked in her life. Her husband provided for the family. Children lacked nothing. Daddy commanded all money: he gave money to mother for daily needs. If Mum said reproachfully that Zelda, wife of her brother had bought a fur coat (to tell the truth, Mum wore a fur coat too), Daddy answered ’Do not look at those who are higher, look at those who are lower.‘ Daddy had the following unshakable rule: if he earned a ruble, he gave 50 kopecks for expenditure, if he earned two rubles, he gave one ruble – he saved half of his earnings, no matter how small they were. He said to Mum ‘Listen, we have two daughters, we should give dowry twice.‘ We were well dressed and our family was well-to-do, but our income was average. At school there were many children much better provided for. I remember that my uncles, my mother’s brothers were better off. When I asked, why their family had several-course dinners, and ours had only one, my parents answered ‘Everybody is different.‘ Each summer we left for the seaside [small villages near Riga at the Gulf of Riga], but not to the same places with my aunts and uncles, but you see, sea and air are identical everywhere.

When we returned to Riga from Livani in 1925 Daddy at first rented a small two-room apartment in a large house. There was neither bath-room, nor a room for servants. Therefore we could not employ a parlourmaid. We lived there 13 years till 1938. By that time in our family there were already three children. Therefore we moved to a three-room apartment, where there was a nursery for me and my sister, a bedroom, a dining-room, a kitchen. The house was worse than the previous one. There was water supply, but no bathroom again. There was stove heating and (a sign of that time) woodsheds in our court yard. Furniture in our apartment was good as always. Of course! Both grandfather and father were professional furniture-makers! And one more: Daddy realized very well what it meant to have two daughters. We had two pianos for me and my sister, two sleeping sets: one for us, and the second one for our parents. At home we never had pets: my father did not like them at all. Because of his professional duties he had to visit many houses. You see, he was engaged not only in sale of new furniture, but also in buying up old samples for the subsequent restoration. So, after his visits he told us ‘So, I come to perform the order and see a good girl sitting, doing her lessons and having a cat on her knees. And this cat strikes her copybook with its paw and the copybook becomes dirty!‘ My father with all his respect for studying and education could not imagine anything more awful, than to spoil a copybook.

We had no garden: it was impossible to have it living in the municipal apartment.

Only Mum helped us in our studies, we had neither nurses, nor governesses. When my brother was a little boy (do not forget that he was already the third child in our family!), we hired a parlourmaid for a short period of time to help Mum about the house.

There were not many books in our house, basically secular ones. My parents’ attitude to books and reading was very different. Daddy never read anything. Mum liked to read very much and Daddy always became angry with her. When he came home, he wanted my Mum to meet him on tiptoe. And Mum liked to read a book lying in bed. And there it began! ‘Books again!‘ He understood and encouraged Mum, if she read books to children, but reading for her own pleasure was naughtiness! I followed in Mum’s footsteps and liked reading very much. Father could not and did not want to keep his eye on my reading. Mother could give me advice, but there was no need. I always was very independent, including my reading. I read all works of world known authors. I read books in Hebrew. War and Peace by Lev Tolstoy 1 I read in Russian when I was already an adult. My first War and Peace was in Hebrew. We had a lot of newspapers at home, even father used to read them. In Riga there were many good libraries, I loaned a lot of books there, and Mum preferred to read books we had at home. At that time women liked to read love stories, a lot of them were published in newspapers issue by issue.

I can not call my parents religious, but they observed the tradition. Certainly, my brother was circumcised. When he was three years old, they celebrated the Day of Opshern [hair trimming]. You see, according to Jewish Tradition, it is forbidden to cut boy’s hair before he is three years old. To tell the truth, they cut his hair before, but nevertheless the holiday was arranged. I remember quite well matzah for Pesach, dreidel and Chanukkah gelt, and we always kept the fast on Yom Kippur. I am not sure that every Saturday we lighted candles: Saturday dinner at home (as well as at my grandfather’s) was rather a family, than a religious event. My parents visited synagogue not very often, but on holidays they did it for sure. In the synagogue they had their own seats.

My parents belonged to no political party and even sympathized with no one. When friends or relatives tried to involve my father in political dispute, he always said ‘Let THEM rack their brains.‘ I remember it for sure that my parents were members of neither social, nor cultural organizations.

I do not remember that my father had any connection to the army.

In a large city people use to communicate with neighbors little, therefore Mum especially liked to gossip with neighbors at dacha [summer house popular in Russia]. Among them there were many Jews, but also Latvians.

It seems to me that my parents did not choose only Jews to be their friends, but for some reason most friends of theirs appeared to be Jews. Father did not make friends with his colleagues, considering them to be his competitors. On holidays our relatives, grocery shop owner and his wife, and dacha neighbors used to visit us. Parents of my sister’s friend, the Entins also often visited us. I remember his mother helped my Mum baking for guests.

Mother with all children spent all summer at the seaside. Daddy never went on leave. We met him on Saturday evenings. He spent with us only Sunday. We called it ‘kissing season’, because having got off the train Daddy kissed us. He never did it in winter at home.

I remember relatives of my parents. Mother had senior sister Rosa Hirsh-Leybovna Lifshits, nee Kravets. She was born in 1895 and died in 1941. She worked as a doctor in Latvia in a small village.

Another mother’s sister was Sofiya (Basheve) Hirsh-Leybovna Kleener, nee Kravets. She never worked and was uneducated. She lived in Riga. Her husband had a furniture shop. When the war burst out, they did not manage to evacuate in time, because their children were sick with scarlet fever. Nobody knows when and how they were lost, and nobody saw them any more.

My Mum had four brothers. David Hirsh-Leybovich perished during World War I.

Lazar Hirsh-Leybovich was a furniture-maker. Before the war uncle Lazar sent his wife and two children to his mother-in-law to a small town situated close to the Soviet border.

Uncle Lazar went to evacuation together with us in the same train carriage. Our train went by that town, where his family stayed. He decided to leave the train and try to find them and save. But he did not even reach his family: he got the lead on his way. And his wife, children and mother-in-law were also shot by Germans. We got to know about it only in 1945 from the letter of their neighbor.

Borukh Hirsh-Leyboich, his wife Sonya and two children Ekhiel and Dovid visited us rarely. We were not good friends. They did not regard us with favor: we were poor relatives for them. When the war burst out, uncle Borukh came to ask advice from my father: all our relatives acknowledged him as worldly wise. Above the table of my sister a portrait of Lenin 2 hung. Uncle Borukh advised to take it off immediately. We never saw anybody of uncle Borukh’s family again.

Pinkhus Hirsh-Leybovich was born in 1912. He survived during Holocaust, because he managed to evacuate together with his wife Sonya and two daughters Mirra and Fruma. He died in Riga in 1988 from heart attack. He worked as a furniture-maker. In contrast to my father he was skilful in writing reports in Russian. Daddy was envious of him, he said ‘You see, he is talented from birth.‘

My daddy disliked the Kravets (mother’s relatives), but tried to be on good terms with them. Pinkhus and Lazar often visited us, and we did the same. Aunt Sonya (my mother’s sister) lived rather far from us, therefore we met her not very often. There were a lot of occasions to meet our relatives: we celebrated together not only family holidays, but also Jewish ones.

Growing up

I was born in Riga on June 11th, 1925. In our family I was the senior child. Immediately after my birth our family moved to Livani to my paternal grandfather. Father wanted to work there, save money and go back to Riga being already well-to-do. First five years of my life I spent in Livani in the house of my grandfather. During 4 years and 9 months I was the only child of   my parents, and then their second child (my sister) was born. All the time until I was seven, i.e. when I went to school, I spent with my Mum. At home I never felt bored, though I do not remember anything of especial interest for me. I remember that I never went in for sport, but I wanted very much to ski. Daddy said 'Do you regret that your arms and legs are safe?‘ So I managed to ride a bicycle, but not very good.

I went to school when I was seven. I started from the second form at Jewish Hebrew school. At that time it was common to skip the first grade, if you were well prepared. I studied perfectly well. Everything was interesting for me, I can not name my favorite subject, I liked them all, except history. In history I also had my excellent mark, but it was the most laborious one. At school there were outstanding teachers. They not only knew their subjects perfectly well, but also had various talents. For example, our teacher Korz was very talented for music. Under his guidance we played Haydn symphony using pipes and penny whistles. He did his best to invent something unusual for each holiday. In the second form we made very interesting performance Alphabet. I was the shortest, and he gave me Yud, because it was the smallest one. But at the same time I was explained that words Jew and Israel began with that very letter. [Yud is the tenth letter in the Hebrew alphabet, in its written form it is only a small line. In Hebrew both Yehudi (Jew) and Israel start with Yud.] I was very proud to get that remarkable letter.

So many years have passed, but I still remember surnames of almost all our teachers. Our first teacher: Madame Meerson, teacher of natural history Mr. Pintsov... Certainly, at this sort of school there were no Anti-Semitic manifestations (and it had no possibility to exist there). By the way, the teacher of Latvian language, Madame Frei (a Latvian) used to say that she liked Jewish children very much and preferred to work with them. Our school was a six-year one. We finished it in 1939. All school graduates received badges, with an inscription in Lettish but with Hebrew letters ‘The main city of Riga, Jewish school no.9, 1939’. Almost all my schoolmates perished during the war. After finishing that school I entered Hebrew gymnasium.

This gymnasium suggested very extensive program. In the beginning of school year it was necessary to bring an application form from parents where they indicated, what language they wanted their child to study. In the next form they added one language more, and so forth. After five years of education they graduated young people knowing five languages. From the very beginning I chose Latin, because I was going to become a doctor. The gymnasium practiced co-education (boys and girls studied together, but in classes they sat in different rows). In 1940 in Latvia Soviet power was established [occupation of the Baltic Republics] 3. Hebrew was immediately declared hostile and Zionist language, and our Hebrew gymnasium was turned into Yiddish school. A lot of my schoolmates left for other schools, but I did not, because I did not want to part with my favorite teachers. Unfortunately, it was my bitter mistake: soon the best teachers were fired; both children and adults were spied on. We took cover in the cloakroom to talk in Hebrew: it was absolutely forbidden. The school lost its former prestige.

Both at school and in gymnasium they taught us basics of Judaism. But religion was not among the main subjects. It was rather a tribute to Tradition. I remember well our teacher of religion from the fifth form, but unfortunately my memory did not keep his name. I know for sure that he perished during the war.

During my school years my friends were Jews for the most part. Mum did not allow us to go for a walk in our court yard: she was afraid that we could become ‘street children‘, so we had friends only at school. Later, when we grew up, Mum realized that we would not fall under bad influence and permitted us to go for a walk. And we made new friends in our court yard: we played together, went for a walk round the city and to the Daugava river.

I can not remember anything special I was great interested in, my main passion always was reading. No public organizations attracted my attention, I never was a member of clubs or associations. On days off we went to the park, to the Zoo, to the cinema. Daddy worked all days long, even on Saturdays. Mum accompanied us, and when we grew up, she let us go alone. On days off we visited our relatives, received them at ours. In summer we never went to children’s camps and never spent vacations without our parents.

I do not remember when I went by a motor–car for the first time. I am sure that it happened after the end of the war. Before the war we went by cab and by tram, later by bus. It was possible to go to the seaside by train (by a steam locomotive, certainly). It makes one laugh, but for the first time in my life I visited a restaurant in 1990, when we celebrated the 60th anniversary of my sister. Our father hated restaurants: he never took there his family and never visited restaurants himself.

My sister Dina Alterovna Uden (nee Shulman) was born on March 2nd, 1930 in Riga. She died on April 17th, 2005 in the USA after a serious incurable illness.

I loved my sister very much, but when she was born it was difficult for me to get used to the idea that I was no more the only daughter of my Daddy and Mum. Probably, that was the reason why I broke my favorite doll to pieces, when at the age of several months my sister touched it.

When I grew up, I made good friends with my sister. We were on terms of intimacy with her.

Parents decided to send her to my school, and I helped her getting ready for it. We often talked to each other in Hebrew, so that our parents could not understand us.

My sister managed to enter the school, but studied there not for long: the war burst out. We evacuated in a small village in Chkalov (at present Orenburg) region. There Dina entered the fourth form of a four-year school. Later, thanks to efforts of our father we moved to Novotroitsk town. My sister finished there 6 classes. She finished her school education already in Riga after returning from evacuation. After finishing a seven-year school she tried to enter a Law School, but failed. Then she entered some another technical school and finished it. After that she tried to enter a Department of Law in the University, but failed again: sure that was already a manifestation of Anti-Semitism. My sister got a job in a fashion atelier to sew caps. Later she entered a correspondence course of the State Latvian University and graduated from it. She worked in Riga at a factory; it seems that they produced semiconductors. She was a very talented engineer, a real expert.

Her husband Ruven Abramovich Uden, an engineer worked at the factory, producing electrotechnical equipment. He was a gifted person: he drew, wrote verses. In 1956 their son Boris was born. All of them left for the USA in 1993.

My brother Elya Alterovich Shulman was born on January 9th, 1936. He died on October 10th, 1982.

I was not so close with my brother in compare with my sister, possibly we were affected by a great difference in age: 11 long years. I remember myself doing my lessons, and my little brother lying in my lap. At that time there were no pampers, therefore my relatives used to say ‘Mera, come to dry your knees!‘

My brother was sent to school in Riga after our return from evacuation. He finished that school and later a Technical School. Later, when I already lived with my husband in Leningrad he was in the army in Pushkin (a neighboring suburb of Leningrad). Actually speaking, only at that time we really got acquainted with him. After the army he studied at the Northwest Correspondence Polytechnical College and graduated from it. He married a good Jewish girl from Minsk. They made their home in Minsk and gave birth to two daughters Olga and Anna. It was in Minsk where he died from cancer. He was only 46 years old.

I can not say that our family was religious. Perhaps the only one really religious person among my nearest relatives was my paternal grandfather. But certainly, we observed some Jewish traditions at home. Together with parents we rarely visited synagogue, but sometimes it happened. I remember that being a little girl, I kept a fast on Yom Kippur. At school they taught us religion, but our knowledge was not deep and we did not lay special emphasis on it. Nevertheless every day 15 minutes before the beginning of lessons, they lined us up in a corridor and ordered to read aloud either from the Torah or from the siddur. And I was the best reader at school, I was a real reciter. And what remarkable long hair I had! All the boys at school were mine. But I am sorry to look aside from Jewish Tradition! My brother attended neither cheder nor yeshivah, and times already changed: Soviet power came. Our parents taught us nothing regarding Tradition or religion. But there are things, which are observed in any Jewish family, even if it is far from religion. So, my brother was circumcised (they arranged bar mitzvah for him). We celebrated holidays regularly. And among other things, it gave us occasion to meet our relatives. I liked all Jewish holidays very much.

During my life I did not get to know what real Anti-Semitism felt like, but we were often bit (figuratively speaking) by people. But I realized it already after the end of the war. During my childhood, in Riga there was nothing of that kind. In evacuation also, because nobody knew who Jews were: local residents asked my father whether he had met Jews in Riga by chance. They were told that Jews had horns and tails - that was why they wanted to make that information more exact.

I do not remember Anti-Semitic laws in Latvia. In any case I did not feel anything of that kind. The same was with my father, as far as I remember. I can explain it by the following: my father knew his place very well and he always tried not to stand out against the background. He was always on good terms with furniture-makers - Latvians.

For citizens of the Soviet Union the war burst out on June 22nd, 1941 [Great Patriotic War] 4. It was the day - boundary between peaceful life and war nightmare. For Latvian inhabitants life started changing a year earlier.

During the war

In June 1940 Soviet army occupied Latvia. At midday Riga inhabitants poured out into the streets and saw tanks decorated with ribbons, flowers, etc.

Every evening in all Riga districts they started showing Soviet films about happy life of Soviet people. Right in the streets Red Army men explained everyone (who wanted to listen them) how happy Soviet people were. Soon family members of Soviet officers came to Riga. Population of Riga increased, i.e. families of officers were settled in large apartments of Riga citizens. Wives of Soviet officers behaved unusually for Riga: they wore night-dresses instead of evening ones and cooked food in chamber-pots. I do not blame them: they simply never saw this sort of things earlier. Soon we heard about nationalization of houses and shops. They started with large and rich ones. My aunt Sonya’s shop was nationalized. At that moment my father understood that he had to undertake something. His brother-in-law, husband of his sister was a real happy-go-lucky fellow.

Daddy always helped his family the way he could: gave them money or clothes. So that happy-go-lucky fellow immediately grasped the possibilities that Soviet authorities gave to idlers like him. He got a job of fireman. You see, there is much truth in what people say: the main examination for a fireman it to oversleep twelve hours lying on his side. But he remembered that my father had done much for him and helped him to get a job of fireman too. Father made my Mum the shop owner, and he himself turned into a worker (a fireman). It considerably strengthened his reputation in opinion of new authorities. Later we got to know through hearsay that people were being exiled to Siberia. Three schoolchildren from our school together with their parents were deported. I met one of them after the war. She lost all her phalanges at tree cutting [tree cutting was one of the main types of forced labour for prisoners of Soviet concentration camps].

We ran away from Riga on June 27th, 1941. By that moment the city was already bombed, it was terrifying. All our relatives gathered together in my grandfather’s large apartment, there we slept side by side in the large internal corridor. One day my father looked through the window and saw people running somewhere. He understood that it is impossible to waste time any more and we rushed to the railway station. In the streets people stood near their houses. They looked at us in bewilderment ‘Jews, where are you running? Today is Friday, Sabbath! We will leave also, but after Sabbath!‘ But alas! Nobody of them managed to leave. Our train was the last one. All of them were lost.

In evacuation we stayed in a small sovkhoz 5 in Chkalov (Orenburg at present) region, which was situated 110 kilometers far from the railway. I worked at the cattle-breeding farm, I had to assist cows during the act of delivery. Fortunately the cows managed to do it without me! There was only a four-year school. In 1942 my father was mobilized. He found himself in the building detachment in Novotroitsk city (500 kilometers far from the place, where we stayed). At first he built cesspools, but soon they took into account his first profession (a footwear cutter) and sent him to a studio to work as a shoemaker for army needs. Father imparted his anxiety that his daughters had no place to study, to his chief. After much effort his chief obtained for father an authorization to take us to him. So, we arrived and settled in the corner of a large barrack partitioned off by a curtain. In the barrack there lived 60 Red army men. There we went to school: I went to the 9th form and my sister to the 5th one. It was there where I received the school-leaving certificate. My sister finished 6 classes.

Our family was lucky: despite of all deprivations of the war time, we were all together. We knew nothing about the rest of our relatives.

After the war

We returned to our native Riga in October 1945. We found city to change little. The synagogue was burned down. The same happened with the department store, where my father’s furniture shop was situated. Population of Riga changed terribly: none of the Jews survived. All our relatives were lost. We know nothing about their death or about their burial places. We managed to learn (absolutely by accident) terrible truth about death of my aunt Rosa. Rosa Lifshits, nee Kravets was the elder sister of my mother. She was a doctor and worked in a small village in Latvia. All her life she lived among peasants, helped them to give birth, treated them medically, and shared all life severities with them. In 1949 after my son’s birth I got ill with mastitis. A doctor from our polyclinic visited me and I recognized him to be a collaborator of my aunt Rosa Lifshits. He told me that at that time he ran away from Germans using a bicycle. He came to pick up Rosa and offered her to rescue together with him. She said that it was not necessary, because all local inhabitants were her patients. She was sure that they would stand up for her. Calmed down, the doctor left alone. Later it turned out that aunt Rosa was shot by Latvians (probably by her patients) even before Germans came.

Only our family and the family of my uncle Pinkhus (they were in evacuation in Tashkent) survived the war. Therefore our circle of acquaintance changed. And Mum felt badly and spent more and more time at home. I do not remember our meeting with neighbors and their reaction to our returning.

Our apartment was completely plundered. After the end of the war Mum saw her dresses on the yard-keeper, and Daddy found our bedroom suite at the market. They gave him a great discount and he bought it. At first we lived at our distant relatives, and then Daddy rented another apartment, which fitted us more. In 1946 I got married. My husband left for Leningrad and entered the Leningrad Electrotechnical College named after Lenin. I visited him regularly during 5 years and dreamed to settle in Leningrad one day.

I do not remember anybody from our circle of acquaintance, who emigrated to Israel. At any rate, our family members did not ask themselves this question. I do not remember that I had any political outlook. To tell the truth, I refused flatly to join the Komsomol 6, though they tried to persuade me. I’d like to say that my political views meant the complete absence of any political views. I rejected the very idea of living political life.

I entered the Riga University in 1947. I studied there for 2 years at chemical department. Then I became pregnant and allergic to smells unavoidable in chemical laboratories. I changed the College and continued my studies at the Agricultural Academy (technological faculty for food-processing), which graduated engineers. I was admitted to the 3rd course. After graduating I was sent to Tallinn [Estonia]. I left my little son in Riga with my parents. In Tallinn I took up a post of technologist at sausage workshop. I lived there 4 months and then handed in an application requesting to send me back to Latvia for work, so that I could be closer to my son and my parents. Besides I underlined that I knew Lettish and had no idea about Estonian. They complied with my request and sent me to Tukums (70 kilometers from Riga).

I worked there as a master at butchery for two years and a half. They gave me personal transport: telega with a horse. [Telega is a four-wheel carriage.] I left the service in 1954, when my husband graduated from College in Leningrad. I took my son away from my parents and we moved to my husband to Leningrad. I got a job at the Electrosila Factory together with my husband. [Electrosila Factory is a Leningrad Corporation for construction of electric machines – one of the largest USSR factories in this sphere.] I was set to do not very interesting work, because my speciality was not adequate for the job. I held that position during 10 years. And after that to my great surprise and surprise of all my relatives, I entered the Leningrad Northwest Correspondence Polytechnical College. While studying I did not interrupt my work and graduated from the College in 1968.

During all my life I came across manifestations of Anti-Semitism, which came not from authorities or official persons, but from the so called ‘private persons’. I also confronted different problems regarding national question: in Tukums I replaced master of the workshop, who was Latvian – representative of the local population. It caused a certain discontent, and not because I was Jewish, but most probably because I was not Latvian. At Electrosila Factory I faced no State official Anti-Semitism. I made new friends. For me nationality of a person (my friend) was of no importance. I doubt whether I could marry not a Jew. I married particularly my husband and it seems to me that I did not think whether he was Jewish or not.

I met my future husband during the war, in evacuation. In 1943 I was a pupil of the 10th form. It happened in Novotroitsk. In our class there appeared three Jewish boys - escapees (from Poland in 1939). All of them were very capable, but their Russian was poor. Therefore they studied at our school only two weeks and were sent down. One of these boys entered Technical school, where they were more interested in their technical abilities. He had a reading-book of Russian literature for the 10th form. I was in great need of that book and its owner often brought it to me at my request. Besides he helped me to accomplish tasks in physics. And later he fell in love with me. We got married in 1946 in Riga.

I did not take my husband’s name, because I did not like it and got accustomed to my maiden name. Besides I did not want to change my passport and school-leaving certificate and it would have been necessary for me in case of changing my family name.

My husband Israel Abramovich Ptakul was born in Poland in Lodz on November 1st, 1923. His mother tongue was Yiddish. His father was very sick; he was unable to work because of his illness. His wife, a seamstress provided for the family. All their family huddled together in one small room.

My future husband graduated from the Technical School in Novotroitsk with honors. Later he graduated from the Leningrad Electrotechnical College and got a job at Electrosila Factory. He worked there until his retirement in 1997. He had a speciality of electrical engineer.

We brought up two children. My son Lev Israelevich Ptakul was born in Riga on March 21st, 1949 and lived there with my parents during five years. In 1954 I brought him to Leningrad. There he went to school. He had difficulties in his studies, only in the 8th form he took an interest in sciences and started receiving good marks. But by that time he already made up his mind for leaving the secondary school for a professional one. Unexpectedly for his teachers and for himself he went through examinations in the 8th form having only excellent marks. Teachers persuaded him to stay at school, but he did not want to alter his mind. At the technical school he got a speciality of milling-machine operator and worked in Leningrad at the Zvezda factory, producing diesel electric power stations. He served in the army and later entered the Leningrad Northwest Correspondence Polytechnical College. He graduated from it with speciality of mechanical engineer. Unfortunately my son is single. He left for Germany in 2001. He is satisfied with his life; several times he came to see me. He has no job in Germany: he is a welfare recipient.

My daughter Lubov Israelevna Ptakul was born on April 22nd, 1959 in Leningrad. When a child, she said ‘I understood the way you gave me birth on the birthday of Lenin. You are engineers: you first draw and then give birth.‘ She was very good and clever girl. She has clever fingers as her father and grandfather had. She finished school in Leningrad in 1976 and entered the faculty of primary education at the State Pedagogical College named after Hertsen. At first she worked as a teacher at primary school, and now she teaches Russian language and literature in senior forms. She did not marry. I blame her father for it. He was always afraid of her early marriage and stopped my slightest attempts in this direction.

We gave no traditional Jewish education to our children. Time, when they were growing was not conducive to it. We never told them that they were Jews, but it was made without us. One day little Lev asked me, who the Jews were and why he was a Jew. I explained him that there were different peoples: Russians, Jews. But he was upset: obviously boys in the court yard had explained him that it was not so honorable to be a Jew. And when my son grew up, he used to say ‘And nevertheless it is good that I look like a Georgian.‘ Certainly we told our children about the war, about our lost relatives, about our life in evacuation. We never celebrated Jewish holidays, never visited synagogue (we even did not know, where it was). We also never celebrated Christmas or Easter. 

We did not observe Tradition, but at the same time arranged circumcision for our son. Our children got some idea about Jewish Tradition, when we visited our relatives in Riga. They celebrated all Jewish holidays and some of them happened to be during our stay there. At home we never ate matzah, never used separate plates and dishes for meat and dairy, never cooked traditional Jewish meals. At present we have not so many friends, but among them there are Jews and gentiles (I think fifty-fifty).

Most often we met our relatives in Riga. Seldom events in our family gathered them in Leningrad. Running a few steps forward, I’d like to tell about three visits to Riga especially memorable for me. In 1978 we went there for wedding of my nephew Boris Ruvenovich Uden, the only son of my sister. He married a Jewish girl from Riga Polina Tsyrulnik. The wedding was very beautiful, they celebrated it in a cafe on the Riga seaside. At present my nephew and his family live in the USA. His only daughter Marianna will soon become a lawyer. In 1990 we celebrated in Riga the 60th anniversary of my sister Dina. During that celebration there was an occasion, which has turned upside-down all my life. I am going to tell about it a little bit later.

And in 1993 we went to say good-bye to the family of my sister, who were going to emigrate to the USA altogether. Certainly we went to the old Jewish cemetery to give the last glance at the native graves. At the cemetery there is a tombstone with the following inscription ‘In commemoration of all gentiles, who saved 55 Jews at the risk of their life.‘ This inscription is made in Hebrew and in Lettish. We also visited that place, where the synagogue was situated: that very synagogue, which we visited together with our parents during our childhood. The synagogue was burnt down during the time of occupation. People built some sort of memorial from its ruins.

To tell the truth, we felt neither dictatorship of authorities, nor its weakening. We had regular work, an apartment: we wanted to change nothing in our life. From 1954 till 1986, when I worked at the factory, I did not even think about anything connected with Judaism: you see, we did not want to be fired. My husband often listened to the Voice of America 7 broadcasting station, we kept an eye on victorious wars of Israel, but only with each other, in a low voice and in the kitchen we could discuss it. Our position was not affected by severance of diplomatic relations with Israel, though I can say that we were not indifferent. None of our relatives visited Israel before 1989. We had no troubles connected with our Jewry. Probably it can be explained by the fact that we had no significant positions. Only Lubov failed to enter where she wanted. You see, she dreamed to study at the Philological faculty of the Pedagogical College named after Hertsen. We went to the College entrance commission together with her. A benevolent woman from that commission asked to show Lubov’s passport. When she saw ‘a Jewess’ in the column ‘Nationality’, she said ‘Do not wreck nerves of your girl 8! Give her documents to the faculty of primary school education. The number of enrollees is less there and they are not so strict with THIS.‘ So we followed her advice. 

Lubov entered the College from first. Another example: in 1966 when I graduated from the College, I wanted to get job at the design office of Electrosila Factory. But its staff department did not permit it. And in 1960s my husband won a contest of engine projects. After that they invited him to the Leningrad Kirov Engineering Plant. He agreed, but asked to tell the staff department that he was Jewish. My husband was right: they refused to give him job and moreover – they asked him to recommend somebody also intelligent, but Russian. And one more. Possibly it is not very important, but you will understand my feelings. After my retirement I was got fixed to a job as a registering clerk in the T.B. prophylactic center. A year later I occupied there position of seamstress and worked during 8 years. Once on the eve of the New Year day I decided to please my co-workers. I dressed myself as Santa Claus and sewed small presents for all co-workers. My colleagues were delighted and thanked me very much. After that everybody went to the table, laid for festive dinner. And I was told the following ‘Take chocolates and sweets, but do not sit down to table with us. We are used to celebrate holidays only with OUR crew members.‘

Broadly speaking, as times goes by you understand that there were a lot of Anti-Semitic manifestations, but we deceived ourselves, suggesting the idea of living normal life. You see, it is difficult to confess yourself that the only life you have was not very successful.

Until 1993 we had no relatives abroad.

Memories do not disturb or trouble me. You know, in this case they say in Yiddish ‘bis tzum knep, nit bis tzum hartz‘ [Only up to buttons, but not up to heart.] Certainly, we were pleased to hear about the fall of the Berlin Wall, because nobody likes to live almost all his life behind the iron curtain 9! Only now I understand that the events of those years resulted in fundamental changes in our life. To my mind it has changed for the best.

My life greatly altered after 1990. It happened the following way. In 1990 all our family went to Riga to celebrate the 60th anniversary of my sister. One of the guests told everybody about her Hebrew studies. She demonstrated her achievements, naming everything on the table in Hebrew. At first she named bread and butter, but when she came to sausage, I got greatly excited: she made a mistake and I (being not conscious of it) corrected her loudly. Here it is necessary to take into account that for 50 years I not only did not speak Hebrew, I even tried to forget it. When we came back to Leningrad, I met my friend from Electrosila Factory and asked her where it was possible to find Jews in Leningrad. She advised me to go to the Synagogue. I had no idea where the Synagogue was situated, but I managed to find it. There two announcements arrested my attention. The first one was an invitation to become a member of cooperative society Development for persons interested in studying and teaching Hebrew. [Cooperative society is an association of people for team work in the sphere of economic activity: they offered paid services to institutions, organizations and citizens. In 1990s a lot of cooperative societies appeared in the USSR: earlier it was impossible. Teaching Hebrew was one of possible paid services.] The second announcement notified about organization of the Leningrad Society for Jewish Culture (LSJC). [The Leningrad Society for Jewish Culture was founded by Jewish activists. It was officialy registered in 1989.]

I went to the LSJC and got exactly to Hebrew lesson. I addressed the teacher on Hebrew (I started recollecting it with difficulty) and asked his permission to be present at his lesson. I did not like the level of studies at all. I realized that I wanted to teach and not to study and addressed the cooperative society Development. I have got to know that in the city there was only one expert in this sphere – Valery Izievich Ladyzhensky. My first difficult test was to understand time and place of our meeting, which he dictated me in Hebrew. But I managed and we met. Valery gave lessons at home. There were a lot of persons interested, because it was a period of great aliyah. [Aliyah means going up (Hebrew). In Hebrew they say ‘to go up to Israel’ and not ‘to come to Israel’. That is why to make aliyah means to repatriate to Israel. Great aliyah means great number of repatriates.] Groups of 10 students each, alternated each hour. Valery delivered a part of his groups over to me. And already a month later I started giving lessons to groups at home. My students were interesting people; it was a pleasure for me to teach them. Soon I finished Hebrew advanced course under Ladyzhensky leadership. I am very grateful to Valery Izevich. He left for Israel long ago, but we are still in touch. We are friends and correspond until now. I visited him in Israel.

A year later I went to Ulpan Halom and offered them my services of a teacher. I got a job there. [Halom is a Hebrew school for children and adults, it works in St. Petersburg since 1992.] It happened in August 1991, and I work there up to the present day. During these years I had time to work both at the Jewish University, at Migdal Or School and at Lamed Sunday School. [Petersburg Jewish University was founded in 1989 and it was the first institution for Judaica studies in the former USSR.] [Petersburg Jewish gymnasium Migdal Or exists since 1991. There are 180 pupils at two departments (for boys and for girls). Most graduates continue their studies in different Jewish educational institutions abroad, mainly in Israel.] [Lamed Sunday school was founded at the Petersburg Jewish University in 1992 for people interested in Judaica. About 50 students visit the school free of charge.] The Migdal Or School is a religious one, therefore my work there had its funny peculiarities. According to the time-table, my lesson followed the lesson of religion. Schoolchildren used to be late for my lesson. I went searching for them and usually found them with their teacher of religion. The teacher said ‘I can not let them go, because the prayer is such long.‘ However I’d like to say that education at that school was good and teachers were very qualified.

During last four years besides Hebrew I taught Yiddish at the Jewish Community Center. It seems to me that it is my teaching activity in the sphere of Jewish education that has filled my life with real sense. It is a pity, certainly, that it happened when I was already more than at mature age; and it is unthinkable that it could never happen. Just imagine! The language, which I tried to forget all my life, to suppress it in itself, has become my permit to the new interesting world. 

Usually I am short of time, therefore I watch life of the Petersburg Jewish community mainly through my lessons at the Jewish Community Center. A lot of interesting events take place there: exhibitions, lectures; everyone can find interesting occupation. I do not use community services, but I remember that once I received half a kilo of matzah for Pesach.

Hesed Welfare Center 10 does not help me. You see, I live with my daughter, and I know that there are so many lonely aged people. Thank goodness, my earned income is rather high, and in our family there is nobody to spend it on drink, so we manage.

At present when I think about important events (for example, Revolution in Hungary), I feel more and more that our thoughts were in contradiction with our forced words. We understood that Hungarians did not ask to liberate them [1956] 11. The same is with the Prague Spring 12. As far as the Doctors’ Plot 13 is concerned, I remember strong feeling of fear and expectation of massacres. When Stalin died, I cried bitterly as all other people around. Sure, we were not sorry for him, but we were afraid that it could become even worse. We were also afraid not to cry hard, when everybody around you did it. But as I already said, all political events we could discuss only with my husband and only in a whisper.

Glossary:

1 Tolstoy, Lev Nikolayevich (1828-1910)

Russian novelist and moral philosopher, who holds an important place in his country’s cultural history as an ethical philosopher and religious reformer. Tolstoy, alongside Dostoyevsky, made the realistic novel a literary genre, ranking in importance with classical Greek tragedy and Elizabethan drama. He is best known for his novels, including War and Peace, Anna Karenina and The Death of Ivan Ilyich, but also wrote short stories and essays and plays. Tolstoy took part in the Crimean War and his stories based one the defense of Sevastopol, known as Sevastopol Sketches, made him famous and opened St. Petersburg’s literary circles to him. His main interest lay in working out his religious and philosophical ideas. He condemned capitalism and private property and was a fearless critic, which finally resulted in his excommunication from the Russian Orthodox Church in 1901. His views regarding the evil of private property gradually estranged him from his wife, Yasnaya Polyana, and children, except for his daughter Alexandra, and he finally left them in 1910. He died on his way to a monastery at the railway junction of Astapovo.

2 Lenin (1870-1924)

Pseudonym of Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, the Russian Communist leader. A profound student of Marxism, and a revolutionary in the 1890s. He became the leader of the Bolshevik faction of the Social Democratic Party, whom he led to power in the coup d’état of 25th October 1917. Lenin became head of the Soviet state and retained this post until his death.

3 Occupation of the Baltic Republics (Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania)

Although the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact regarded only Latvia and Estonia as parts of the Soviet sphere of influence in Eastern Europe, according to a supplementary protocol (signed in 28th September 1939) most of Lithuania was also transferred under the Soviets. The three states were forced to sign the ‘Pact of Defense and Mutual Assistance’ with the USSR allowing it to station troops in their territories. In June 1940 Moscow issued an ultimatum demanding the change of governments and the occupation of the Baltic Republics. The three states were incorporated into the Soviet Union as the Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republics.

4 Great Patriotic War

On 22nd June 1941 at 5 o’clock in the morning Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union without declaring war. This was the beginning of the so-called Great Patriotic War. The German blitzkrieg, known as Operation Barbarossa, nearly succeeded in breaking the Soviet Union in the months that followed. Caught unprepared, the Soviet forces lost whole armies and vast quantities of equipment to the German onslaught in the first weeks of the war. By November 1941 the German army had seized the Ukrainian Republic, besieged Leningrad, the Soviet Union's second largest city, and threatened Moscow itself. The war ended for the Soviet Union on 9th May 1945.

5 Sovkhoz

state-run agricultural enterprise. The first sovkhoz yards were created in the USSR in 1918. According to the law the sovkhoz property was owned by the state, but it was assigned to the sovkhoz which handled it based on the right of business maintenance.

6 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread of the ideas of communism and involve the worker and peasant youth in building the Soviet Union. The Komsomol also aimed at giving a communist upbringing by involving the worker youth in the political struggle, supplemented by theoretical education. The Komsomol was more popular than the Communist Party because with its aim of education people could accept uninitiated young proletarians, whereas party members had to have at least a minimal political qualification.

7 Voice of America

International broadcasting service funded by the U.S. government through the Broadcasting Board of Governors. Voice of America has been broadcasting since 1942, initially to Europe in various European languages from the US on short wave. During the cold war it grew increasingly popular in Soviet-controlled Eastern Europe as an information source.

8 Item 5

This was the nationality factor, which was included on all job application forms, Jews, who were considered a separate nationality in the Soviet Union, were not favored in this respect from the end of World War WII until the late 1980s.

9 Iron Curtain

A term popularized by Sir Winston Churchill in a speech in 1946. He used it to designate the Soviet Union’s consolidation of its grip over Eastern Europe. The phrase denoted the separation of East and West during the Cold War, which placed the totalitarian states of the Soviet bloc behind an ‘Iron Curtain’. The fall of the Iron Curtain corresponds to the period of perestroika in the former Soviet Union, the reunification of Germany, and the democratization of Eastern Europe beginning in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

10 Hesed

Meaning care and mercy in Hebrew, Hesed stands for the charity organization founded by Amos Avgar in the early 20th century. Supported by Claims Conference and Joint Hesed helps for Jews in need to have a decent life despite hard economic conditions and encourages development of their self-identity. Hesed provides a number of services aimed at supporting the needs of all, and particularly elderly members of the society. The major social services include: work in the center facilities (information, advertisement of the center activities, foreign ties and free lease of medical equipment); services at homes (care and help at home, food products delivery, delivery of hot meals, minor repairs); work in the community (clubs, meals together, day-time polyclinic, medical and legal consultations); service for volunteers (training programs). The Hesed centers have inspired a real revolution in the Jewish life in the FSU countries. People have seen and sensed the rebirth of the Jewish traditions of humanism. Currently over eighty Hesed centers exist in the FSU countries. Their activities cover the Jewish population of over eight hundred settlements.

11 1956

It designates the Revolution, which started on 23rd October 1956 against Soviet rule and the communists in Hungary. It was started by student and worker demonstrations in Budapest started in which Stalin’s gigantic statue was destroyed. Moderate communist leader Imre Nagy was appointed as prime minister and he promised reform and democratization. The Soviet Union withdrew its troops which had been stationing in Hungary since the end of World War II, but they returned after Nagy’s announcement that Hungary would pull out of the Warsaw Pact to pursue a policy of neutrality. The Soviet army put an end to the rising on 4th November and mass repression and arrests started. About 200,000 Hungarians fled from the country. Nagy, and a number of his supporters were executed. Until 1989, the fall of the communist regime, the Revolution of 1956 was officially considered a counter-revolution.

12 Prague Spring

The term Prague Spring designates the liberalization period in communist-ruled Czechoslovakia between 1967-1969. In 1967 Alexander Dubcek became the head of the Czech Communist Party and promoted ideas of ‘socialism with a human face’, i.e. with more personal freedom and freedom of the press, and the rehabilitation of victims of Stalinism. In August 1968 Soviet troops, along with contingents from Poland, East Germany, Hungary and Bulgaria, occupied Prague and put an end to the reforms.

13 Doctors’ Plot

The Doctors’ Plot was an alleged conspiracy of a group of Moscow doctors to murder leading government and party officials. In January 1953, the Soviet press reported that nine doctors, six of whom were Jewish, had been arrested and confessed their guilt. As Stalin died in March 1953, the trial never took place. The official paper of the Party, the Pravda, later announced that the charges against the doctors were false and their confessions obtained by torture. This case was one of the worst anti-Semitic incidents during Stalin’s reign. In his secret speech at the Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 Khrushchev stated that Stalin wanted to use the Plot to purge the top.
 

Emiliya Israilovna Shulman

I, Emiliya Israilovna Shulman was born on September 18th,

1931 in the city of Chechersk in the Gomel region of Belorussia.

My family background

Growing up

During the war

After the war

My family background

My ancestors, both on my father’s and my mother’s sides, were all from Belarus, from small Jewish settlements. Chechersk was one such settlement. It was a small, comfortable and attractive town, located on the banks of the Checheri River that flowed. Chechersk was considered a Jewish settlement because very many Jews lived there, especially before the war. Conversation at every step on the street, on the benches and in the market was held in Yiddish. This was especially noticeable in the market, where everyone talked quite loudly. This gave one the feeling that only Jews lived in the city, but there lived, of course, Belarussians as well. Russians were less prevalent.

Chechersk is located 60 km from the railroad, but only 17 km from the Kiev-Gomel-Leningrad highway that we called "Bolshak." However the main connection was by the Sozh River. Before the war boats traveled by the river and timber was rafter. The Sozh got shallower and the bigger boats stopped, although the timber rafter continued. Small crafts, that connected Chechersk with other Jewish "settlements" and Gomel, also continued to run. During my childhood it was a very clean, comfortable and pretty town with a wonderful climate. It was possible to go swimming in the river and to fish. In the woods there were many mushrooms and berries. All our relatives and acquaintances went there to vacation in the summer, as well as the relatives and acquaintances of other Jewish families in the city.

If one comes down from the Lesion Mountains, Chechersk would be visible like on a palm; as if it was located in a cup. To the left and right collective farm gardens were spread out. The road led to the center of the city. It was the only paved road. When the wind blew it would raise dust clouds on the roads. In the center of the city were the police, izpolkom [local administrative committee], club, library and two schools, as well as the agricultural school. The city also contained a wine factory, smokehouse, slaughterhouse, a cloth factory, the last being famous in the surrounding villages and beyond. The houses were one story and made of wood. There were a few stone houses (owned by merchants before the revolution) in which state organizations were located. The houses were drowning in gardens, having residents, and vegetable plots, maintaining herds: cows and chickens (Belarussian families also had pigs), but these were mostly those who lived in the sloboda  and Podol izpolkom [local administrative committee]. In the center of the city gardens were very small, mostly the houses were surrounded by gardens and, before each house was a small plot sown with flowers. Each house had a porch where adults and children would gather in the evenings. It wasn’t done to enter the house during the summer. There was no water piping in the city. The water was collected at ‘kolonki’ (water pumps). All comforts were “in the yard”. Each house had to have a stove, from which the heater ran. No matter the size of the house, it had to have separate sleeping quarters. The bedroom could consist of one bed and a chair. If there was a dresser, that was already a sign of wealth. Furniture was homemade. The central room of the house was called the ‘zal’ (room) and it could be either 8 square meters or 28 square meters, but it was necessary. The barn and cellar were located in the yard. The residents traveled by horse. The only cards were state-owned, transport and light ‘Emki.’ It was so before and after the war.

There was a large city park in Chechersk. Elderly residents said that it had been laid out with very interesting and rather rare sorts of trees. The park broke off at the Checher, a tributary of the Sozh. It was the place to meet people. Before the war there were two stages there. On one, amateur and out of town artists (from Gomel) would perform. On the other was a dance floor. After the war the dance floor was still whole, but the Germans burned the amateur theater stage and after the war it wasn’t rebuilt.

The entrance to Chechersk- a mountain- was named Zamkovoi [Zamok means castle in English] because the end of the central street was a ratusha [tower]. Older residents said that it was a watchtower, surrounded with defensive buildings for the defense of Chechersk against attacks. The ratusha was ancient. During the war it didn’t burn down. Besides the center, Chechersk had Podol, where mostly Jews lived, and two slobody. To the right of the ratusha, the road led to the Jewish cemetery, after which was the village of Edinstvo in which there was a collective farm. Mostly Belarussians lived in this neighborhood.

The second sloboda led to the ferry on the river Checher. The main employment of these residents was timber rafting and ship loading. There was also a timber mill and a handmade furniture factory where they made tables, stools, etc. In Podol lived mostly Jews -- craftsmen. The Jewish bathhouse was also located here. There were two for women and one for men. Next to the banya, in a large wooden house, lived the Jewish family, Plotnikov, which had many children. Many headed there after the banya, including my sister and myself. They had a very large central room or ‘zal’, with a bad floor (after the war it was difficult to repair), but there was a large table with a samovar on it. Such tea as there is now was not for sale in those days, and everyone drank tea made of dried herbs. One could always sit with the Plotnikovs, to relax after the banya and drink tea. They were very hospitable people.

One of the Plotnikov daughters worked in the library of the party office of the executive committee. Her nickname was “horse head.” She was not beautiful, but very kind. When we were finishing 10th grade and needed to find specialized literature (especially in history) that wasn’t available anywhere except at the party office, she would whisper to us when we could come by (officially this was forbidden) and she would sit up late with us. She wasn’t offended by her nickname and always made jokes about herself.

There was a band of Jewish boys in Podol that included my cousin Grisha (Uncle Miron’s stepson). They didn’t study well and didn’t act much better, therefore they didn’t study with us, but in a village across the Checher. I don’t know when they studied because they mostly wandered around Chechersk, but they did receive certificates of graduation from 7th grade. They didn’t want to study any further and they became tailors, joiners and cobblers, like their fathers. One even became a tractor operator. Grisha was drafted into the army and there learned to be a chauffeur. He was a fan of Zenith Leningrad, although while in Chechersk he knew nothing of football. He was happy when he managed to get a job working as a chauffeur for them. He drove them around in the private bus for a few years and they found him a room in a communal apartment in Leningrad.

In Chechersk, as in any Jewish ‘settlement’ we had our own famous people. I remember one such person very well. He was of small size and the whole family was focused on him. My grandmother called the family ‘kuropatok’ (chicks). Zilberg was a very talented musician even though he didn’t know musical theory. He organized an orchestra that played various musical instruments, whatever was to be found. This included a Belarussian buben [tambourine]. They were invited to weddings and other events, including funerals. These weren’t Jewish funerals and music is never part of Jewish ceremony. One day, this was in late fall, some party official died. Zilberg was invited, with the orchestra, to play at the funeral. However, before funerals one isn't fed. He had a large family where no one ever had enough to eat and his orchestra was made up of poor Jewish boys. The day was very cold with wet snow. The roads were bad, they had ‘hudaye’ (thin) shoes on, and the cemetery was rather far away. They were freezing, hungry and weren’t given anything to drink. And suddenly, instead of the funeral march, Zilberg and his crew struck up ‘Karapet moi bednii ’ [very famous folk song in pre-war Russia]. How they saved themselves from the furious relatives I can only guess, but this did help them. The nickname “karapet” stuck to Zilberg until the end of his days. Even after this incident they were, of course, invited to funerals - it was the only orchestra in town. But there was no longer a need to warn him.

There wouldn’t have been such interesting evenings in Chechersk’s club without him. He organized artistic improvisations. It would have been difficult to imagine him without the club, just as the club without him. Their house was on the border between Chechersk itself and Podol. The house was small, and how they all fit into it, I don’t know -- there were very many of them. It was, however, a very warm and friendly family, and we all helped them as much as we could.

We also had a very flamboyant photographer, Portnov. He always took several frames. Each time he said, “Attention! Shooting!” Then he would disappear into his room, come back spread out his hands and say, “Ruined!” And everything was repeated from the beginning, sometimes five times.

Growing up

Next to our school was the wine factory. The gate was always open and we loved to run in there during breaks. Large pots of cranberries stood there and we would take those cranberries. At school we didn’t’ so much eat the berries as spill them all over. Grapes didn’t grow in Chechersk and therefore the wine at the factory was made from berries (raspberries, blackberries, wild and domestic strawberries) and apples. I remember one story. There was a wine contest of Belarussian wines in Minsk and some of the product of the Chechersk factory had to be sent. A man named Lusik Berin was sent. I don’t remember who he was, either a technician or an assistant in storage. He didn’t realize that he was to bring wines of different sorts. He took one sort of wine, many different labels and headed off to Minsk. When he got there and realized that he was supposed to present examples of different wines to the committee, he bought bottles, poured his wine into the bottles and stuck different labels on each bottle, and handed them all in. The man had a sense of humor, and when he learned that the Chechersk wine factory was awarded a place in one category of wine he asked why the cranberry wine didn’t get an award. He was told that there was something not quite right. He said: “Very interesting. All the wine was from one barrel so how could one be a little off and the other not?” He was Jewish, a joker.

I remember a few more habits, for example the washing of laundry. In the winter we washed clothes in a special way. Dirty laundry was loaded into a large barrel mixed with ashes. Then large stones were heated in the oven and dropped into the barrel. This was called “buchit’ clothing”. When this laundry had been left for the allotted time, it was taken out, hung on a yoke and taken to the “pelka”. The pelka is a hole that was made in the ice of the Checher and where the laundry was rinsed in ice-cold water. It came out very clean. We didn’t iron our clothes with an iron, but with valik. This was an invention that was made up of two parts. One part was circular and resembled a rolling pin that one rolls dough out with. The second valik was large, with a handle and stripes were cut into it. All the laundry was put on the table and wrapped onto the first part while the second ironed the cloth. I, myself, often did this. I am talking about linen cloth. It could only be ironed in this way. After the war we already had irons with charcoal, but out of laziness we continued to iron with the ‘valik.’

We children also loved the city fair. There were two of them, spring and fall. The bazaar square was very large. There were many wares and all sorts of delicious things. I remember that geese and chickens were bought by the bunch. I also remember how my grandmother would choose her chickens. I don’t know how polite this will sound, but I have to tell you. She would take the chicken in her hand, lift up its tail, blow and by some telltale signs, would choose some while refusing others. Several chickens were taken at once, and then when needed they were taken to a special butcher, such as our neighbor Faberov. He would cut the chicken and then it could be used as food.

I also remember how we conserved cabbage. Usually, for this kind of work, we would invite women form the Belarussian sloboda. Lots of cabbage was salted, several barrels, and then stood in the cellar. The women would rip up the cabbage, with much laughter and many songs. In general Belarussian women did many jobs in Jewish homes. Our housekeeper Akulina was also from sloboda. I don’t remember any family in which there was a Jewish housekeeper or nanny. It just wasn’t done. We, however, did live very happily with the Belarussians. Akulina’s brother, when the war started and our house burned down, wanted to take us in himself, and my grandmother kept up a very warm relationship with her Belarussian friends from Zagore until the end of her days. Everyone respected the traditions of the other. Alas, now all has changed.

There was a synagogue and Jewish community in the city, which my grandmother Mera attended. A Jewish cemetery also existed, where our relatives that had perished in the pogrom in the village of Zagore, Chechersk uyezd [district] in May of 1922, including my grandfather Borukh, mother’s father, were buried. In the city Jewish traditions were observed, especially among the older generations. All Jews celebrated Passover. Circumcision was mandatory for Jewish boys. Weddings were Jewish. There were no mixed marriages: they appeared much later, after the war. There was a stratification of the population.

The “elite” lived in the center of the city: white collar workers at governmental institutions and the more prosperous Jews. Jewish workers lived in Podol. Podol was spread along the ravine through which flowed a stream that emptied into the Checheri. Several houses were located right on the edge of the ravine, but most were built on the spot where the ravine met the plains. There lived the shoemakers, tailors, hairdressers, carpenters, furniture makers and those who made chalk for whitewashing. Professions were handed down from father to son. There were very poor families, as well as more prosperous ones. However, if a Jewish girl from the “center” married a boy from “Podol”, it was considered an unequal marriage, and her parents were displeased.

From childhood I had heard of the tragedy that had taken place in our family before my birth, in 1922. However, I only learned the full details in 1970 from Mikhail Davidovich Bolshun, the son of grandmother’s brother David, when I was visiting relatives in Pyatigorsk. Evidently it was too difficult for both Mother and Grandmother to speak of it.   

In the spring of 1922 the Savitzky brothers’ band, former timber traders, tried to leave for Poland. Along the way the bandits would suddenly attack a village and knife the Jews with howls of, “Yid! Give us a grosz (Polish penny)!” They fell upon the village of Zagore on May 2nd.

On the eve of the pogrom, there were many guests at Grandfather Borukh’s house. Relatives had arrived from the Caucasian mountains where there was a drought and famine. With then was a young couple – bride-, and groom-to-be. Early that morning, Grandmother, along with her niece Hannah, David Bolshun’s daughter, and Miron’s wife left for the woods to “koponichit’ lyado” (to prepare a new field for planting) and to collect strochka and morels, spring mushrooms. When they were preparing to return home, Hannah noticed horsemen on the road. She said to Grandmother, “Aunt Mera! Here come riders. One of them is on your horse. And there’s the cart full of things.” The women sensed the threat and hid themselves, not going on the road.

The horsemen rode past. The women ran to the village. Already on the way they could hear screams and weeping. Around the house there was no one. The bandits had frightened the neighbors, Belarussian peasants. No one had come to the aid of the victims because the pogromists had promised to kill all those who helped the “Yids.”

When the women opened the door to the house, blood trickled out in rivers. The bandits had beaten to death with muzzle-loading guns 17 people --13 Jews and 4 Belarussians – “kombednoti” (poor people). The women were raped before they were killed, even nine-year-old Fira, Mama’s younger sister. Hannah and Miron’s first-born son, who was nine-months at that time, was put in a sitting hen’s basket and beaten with the gun, strokes in the form of a cross. Grandfather lay wrapped in the talith. He was murdered last. Before his death he prayed, watching the tortured death of his closest relatives.

The first to come and help was Uncle Misha Bolshun who had spent the night in a neighboring village. He returned to Zagore in the morning and instantly sent his Belarussian friends to warn the Jews in the village of Belyaevki. Thanks to the warning, those managed to organize defenses and didn’t let the bandits into the village. The band was forced to turn off the fields and get to the Polish borders through the woods.

Most of the peasants were terribly frightened which didn’t help their suffering neighbors. Grandmother and uncle Misha loaded the bodies of the murdered onto two carts themselves. In accordance to Jewish tradition the men and women were laid separately. In the darkness of despair, Grandmother harnessed a cow to the second cart. Thus they left in order never to return. On the road to Chechersk a crowd met them. All already knew of the tragedy and showed true solidarity. Among the group were my mother and her brother Monei. They were studying in Chechersk and stayed for the holidays with their Uncle Abram, grandfather’s brother. This saved their lives.

Miron was a member of the group of Chekists [members of the internal police, a precursor to the KGB ] that organized the pursuit of the bandits. They found the band. Under the demands of the residents, they were given the death sentence and shot. The victims of the pogrom were buried in Chechersk. Anna Vladimirovna Novikova, Hannah and Miron’s granddaughter, their daughter Sofia’s daughter, found a photo of the farewell to the victims in the archives in Minsk. She sent the photograph to my sister Anna in Gomel who, after a request from our American relatives, sent the photo to Denver. From there a copy was sent to me. In this convoluted way that photograph came to me and now to you. That was a documentary witness to the tragedy. In the foreground on boards lie the bodies of the cruelly tortured victims. Their death united those who came to display their grief and decisiveness in revenging the murderers. Above the body of Grandfather Borukh sat Grandmother in mourning (first row from the bottom, first from the left), next to her sat her children: daughter Galya (my Mama), and son Emmanuil. In the second row from the bottom, the third man from the right (with a beard) is David Bolshun, next to him with her head bowed is his daughter Galya. Miron and Hannah aren’t in the photo. Hannah lay paralyzed and Miron had left to apprehend the bandits.
Another account of these happenings was given by another of Hannah and Miron’s granddaughters (their son Yakov’s daughter), Anna Piotrovskaya, who now lives in Tver. She wrote her father’s story word for word when she was 15. According to her, she knew little, at the time, of the persecution of our nation, and this history was written down in order not to forget the details. Here is the record:

“At that time in Belarus there were many bands, including nationalistic ones. One of them was the band of the Savitzky brothers. The Savitzkys were Polish gentry. The elder was a true monster, evil, savage, without pity. His wife Yadviga was the same as her husband. The younger Savitzky was faint-hearted, completely in the power of his older brother, obeying his commands without question. There were about 40 cutthroats in the band, soulless, evil and whose sense were clouded by the glitter of gold and the need for profit which they obtained through robbery and violence. The band eliminated Jews in a brutal manner: demanding gold, they tortured the members of the homeowner’s family in front of him. There was no pity for the elderly or children.
 
This is what happened in Zagore in 1922. That day, when most of the residents were working in the forest (including Miron), the Savitzkys came into the village. In Grandfather David’s house, was Grandmother Klara Bolshun, Miron’s mother-in-law, with the 9-month-old baby, Miron’s first-born Yosif. After not getting any money from Grandmother, as there simply wasn’t any, the bandits chopped off Yosif’s head with and axe, in front of her, then they hit Grandmother in the stomach. In other houses the attacks on the residents were just as cruel. In Borukh Kosoi’s home, his daughter was raped, the household members were killed and the males were violently attacked. Borukh prayed and wept, he was tortured last. Miron said that there was absolutely nothing of worth for them to take. Everyone lived on their own work.

So, when Miron and Hannah returned from the forest (Miron was the head of a brigade in the woods while Hannah and Aunt Mera worked to make clearings for sowing), and came up to the house, they saw in the window a basket that had held a laying hen, but now held the expressionless head of their child. Hannah’s legs deserted her and she was instantly paralyzed. She lost her ability to speak. They carried her into the house between the two of them. Miron announced for all to hear that he would find the bandits and kill them with his own hands. And he left on their trail. The Savitzkys had done as follows: they robbed the post-office, tortured and killed the elderly postman. It was a miracle that his 15-year-old grandson who was present during the execution was left whole. He told Miron that the Savitzkys had commandeered a cart and left for the river in a great hurry.

Miron rode to the river. He was lucky because the man who ran the ferry, shaking from what he had just gone through, said that the bandits were planning to get to Kiev. He heard this when the brothers, not afraid to speak in front of him, had been discussing their further route. The elder Savitzky ordered his brother to kill the ferryman. After going into the woods to deal with the ferryman, the younger brother couldn’t handle the man’s pleading, pitied him and let him go. This, in the long run, led to the damnation of his brother.

And so, all roads lead to Kiev. In Kiev, in the Cheka at the time, worked a detective Legre (or Lengre, I can’t answer for the exact name). Miron came to him and told him what happened in Zagore. They then began to search for the Savitzkys. It seemed that they had stopped in the most expensive hotel in Kiev, and all three were staying in one room. They only left the room 3 times a day, armed to the teeth, including Yadviga, they went down to the restaurant to eat.

The detective, for the longest time, couldn’t think of a way to arrest the bandits, take them alive, so that they couldn’t start a shoot out and injure innocent bystanders. He was also afraid that they would unexpectedly hide the last of their travel to Poland. The detective’s plan was such: the trio always ate together, heading single file down a long corridor. The windows on the corridor were curtained. Behind the curtains Legre hid the Chekist trap and captured all three.

Miron attended the trial. The elder Savitzky conducted himself defiantly and impertinently. He blamed his brother for his capture, accusing him of faint-heartedness, saying that he had destroyed them all. He asked for permission to say some last words. Upon being given permission, he admitted the crimes and answered the prosecutor. He also said that Yadviga was completely innocent. The brothers and many members of their band that had been rounded up were shot, and Yadviga was given 25 years. The elder Savitzky was shot right in the courtyard before the courthouse. The large crowd of people was barely contained. They demanded Savitzky for themselves to deal with. In total, out of three families -- Bolshun, Kosoi and Maron -- 22 people were cruelly tortured and murdered.

For a long time Hannah lay paralyzed, deprived of speech. She couldn’t be cured. An acquaintance told Miron that he knew of a witch doctor that might be able to cure Hannah. Miron put Hannah in a cart and took her to the doctor. The doctor said that he would try to return her to life, but asked Miron not to enter the house so that he wouldn’t hear. Miron sat on the porch and waited for a long time. Finally his patience snapped and he tried to enter. However the door was well locked and Miron, even with his great strength, couldn’t open it. Then he heard a soul-rending cry. Hannah was calling for his help. Miron went mad, destroyed the door and suddenly realised: “she spoke!” He came in, Hannah was sitting up, and she left the house on her own.”

The victims of the pogrom were buried in the Jewish cemetery in Chechersk. The government paid for two memorials on their graves. The Germans destroyed the cemetery during the war, but after the war we found their place of burial: a row of birches had been planted between the two long graves and the trees were saved. When my mother left Chechersk, with the money that we received from the sale of the house, we put up two memorials of sandstone and wrote a modest epitaph: “perished during the pogrom on the second of May, 1922.” They say that the monuments are now in bad shape as limestone crumbles quickly.

My grandmother on my mother’s side, Mera, couldn’t live in her house in Zagore after the pogrom. She didn’t enter the house, not even to take some things, and slept in the attic of the barn. She sold her house to the government and it housed an elementary school for a long time -- until the Chernobyl disaster of 1986. After Chernobyl all the residents of the village of Zagore were evacuated due to the high levels of radiation. They say that Grandfather Borukh’s house still stands but has long been uninhabited.

With the help of relatives, Grandmother harvested the crop, sold it, and on the money from the house and the rye she bought a house in Chechersk. This was so that Galiya and Monya could continue their studies. In our family no one liked to remember the tragedy they lived through, but I remember that in our house in Chechersk there never were any flowers. Grandmother couldn’t look at them because at the time of the pogrom her flowers were sprayed with blood.

Life worked out in such a way, that of my grandparents I only know my mother’s mother Mera Dveira Kosaya well. She lived with us a long time. My mother’s parents, Borukh Kosoy and Mera Dveira Kosaya, lived in the village of Zagore, Chechersk province, Gomel region until 1922. Grandmother Mera was born in 1890 in Chechersk. Grandfather was born in the 80th year of last century (1880), but I have no information as to where he was born. My mother’s parents were religious people -- their native tongue was Yiddish. They observed Jewish traditions, kept up a prayer chapel where the local Jewish community met. Grandfather read the prayers himself.

There were flowers from Palestine in the house. In front of the house there was a garden, yard and many flowers. They had two horses, two cows and chickens. Grandmother was a strong-willed and powerful woman. She took care of the house and raised three children: my mother Galya, her sister Fira and brother Emmanuil. In addition, Grandmother dabbled in arable farming. She (with the help of relatives) cleared a piece of woodland and planted rye. Grandmother was very beautiful and had a reputation as a good housewife. She was widowed at the age of 32 and had suitors, but she turned them all down, saying that she could never find another such father for her children. She always trusted only in her own hands, I don’t remember her not working.

Grandmother was very kind, social and hospitable. “One needs to offer only the best,” she would say. There were always visitors in the house. For many years her former neighbors in the village would come to visit her, bringing gifts from the country and staying the night. Grandmother forgave them for their traitorous weakness during the frightening minutes of the pogrom. She showed her grief to no one, meeting all with a joke and never thrusting her opinion on anyone. She was religious, went to synagogue, and followed Jewish traditions, but didn’t demand this of Papa, who was a party worker. There was kosher food in the house, we baked matza, butchered the chickens at the shochet’s, but we also celebrated Soviet holidays. Of the religious holidays, we always celebrated Jewish Passover. I remember that on Passover the food was very delicious. Grandmother also baked very tasty hamantashen (gomentashin) [triangles of pastry filled with poppy seeds baked on Purim]. My mother-in-law in Leningrad also baked gomentashes, but not only on holidays. Grandmother said that to bake them on days other than holidays was a sin.
Grandmother was loved by everyone. On Sundays there would be a knock at the door and the question, “Does Mera Zagorskaya live here?” That was how everyone called Grandmother. They would bring her either berries, or baskets of mushrooms, bacon, or eggs. And she would give back all that she could. I remember one such incident. It was after the war. I was already studying at the university. Uncle Monya had given me the first perfume of my life. It was called ‘Elada’. Grandmother’s friend from Zagore was staying over. After a few days I noticed that very little was left in the bottle. I asked Grandmother if she had spilled some out by accident and she answered me, “I never thought that I’d raise such a ‘zleibnei’ (greedy) granddaughter. Girls of my century didn’t have such things, so let her smell it for once in her life.” Her wise advice for the future was as follows, “Go, my dear child and don’t get lost. Pick the straight road.”

Grandmother was with us during the evacuation. After the war, when Mama was imprisoned, she lived in Chechersk with Anya, my younger sister, (I was already studying at university). It was very difficult for her, but she never complained.

Our first home in Chechersk was destroyed by arson. The second burned down in a fire that caught several homes in Chechersk (the houses had been made of wood). Then Papa was given an apartment (half a house) by his work place and there I was born. This apartment also burned down, during the bombings of the war. After the war Mother’s brother Monya bought us a very small house in front of which were a little garden and a barn. We rented the barn to some organization. They kept their horses there and in return helped us with firewood. Even thought the house was small, there was a bus stop nearby. People would come asking to rest, to feed their children or to sleep over. No one was ever turned away, neither Jews nor Belarussians.

During the war the Germans burned the synagogue and afterwards it wasn’t rebuilt. The Jewish community gathered at someone’s house as a prayer chapel. Our neighbor Faberov, who was a shochet, and my uncle Miron, my father’s brother, were the leaders. Miron was invited to all the “brit milas” [circumcisions]. Jews gathered and prayed. My grandmother also attended the prayer chapel. Grandmother died in 1956 and was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Chechersk.

Grandmother’s brother David Bolshun also moved to Chechersk after the pogrom of 1922, in which he lost his wife. He worked in the timber mill and timber rafting. He didn’t marry again. He had three children who were already adults. His son Mikhail graduated from the agricultural school and was a winemaking expert. He lived with his wife in Pyatigorsk and worked as the head engineer of raw materials at a wine factory in Bishtau. His wife was a highly qualified (Party conference level) stenographer. They had no children. Galiya Bolshun was an accountant and before the war she worked in Chechersk. During the evacuation she, at first, was with us in Dourine and Moskalenka. Then she worked as an accountant in a Kazakh village. Grandfather David first stayed with us in Moskalenka, then Galiya took him in with her in the village. There he died in 1948. Misha Bolshun served in the army for the entire war. After the war he took Galiya to Minvodei. She lived in Zheleznovodsk. Grandmother Mera and David had other relatives. They lived in Belarus before the war, but I neither knew them, nor remember them.

In Zagore Grandfather Borukh worked in the timber industry, travelling and marking trees for felling and transport on the Sozh river. This work he shared with my father’s brother Miron. My grandmother’s brother David Bolshun also worked in forestry. They also lived with their families in Zagore. Grandmother and Grandfather had a large house that grandfather’s brothers had helped him build before they left for America. Grandfather Borukh's brothers, as I have already said, left for America, but one of them, Abram, returned. He died in Chechersk before the war. His son Naum was one of the first people in the Komsomol. Before the war he worked in the CK VLKSM  [Central Committee of the all-Union Leninist Communist Youth League] of Belarus, and during the war he was the assistant head of scouting for the partisan headquarters. After the war he was the head of Belbitsnaba (consumer services in Belarus) in the Ministry of Consumer Industry of BSSR [Belorussian Soviet Socialist Republic]. He lived in Minsk. His son Wilem is now in America with his family. They live in Denver and we correspond with them. When one of them died, they were buried according to Jewish tradition. When my grandmother passed away Mama buried her in a grave, but observed all other traditions. How and what to do was explained to her and she followed them all (sat on the floor, didn’t turn on lights, etc). At that time most of these habits were kept up by the older generations.

I didn't know my grandparents on my father's side at all. I can only note their birthdays roughly: Grandfather Mikhail Maron - 1870, Grandmother Ester Riva Maron - 1880. I have no information about their birthplaces. I heard this story about them from my parents. Grandfather was of the well-to-do timber industrialists. He fell deeply in love with Ester Riva, who worked in their family as a servant. She was poor and without parents, but very beautiful. She was tall, stately blonde with wavy hair in a long braid. In addition she sang beautifully, but of marriage there was no question. Mikhail lost his head, stole the cashbox from his father and fled with Ester across the border. When they had spent all the money, they returned and he married her. His family disowned him from their home forever. His parents told him, "If you get hungry, maybe songs will replace your bread." They were poor, but loved each other very much and were happy. They lived in Cherven, a little town in Belarus. Grandfather Mikhail worked in timber. He died young of tuberculosis in the end of the 1920's. Grandmother Ester was a housewife who ran the household and raised the children. When her husband died she was left alone with eight children. However her family was very close and they all helped each other and "rose up the social ladder."

The children moved away, Miron and Israil (my father) lived in Chechersk, Alexander and Yevdokia in Leningrad. Evsei lived in Minsk region, Zalman and Sarah stayed in Cherven with their families. Grandmother Ester had no permanent place of residence: she lived with each of her children in turns. During the war she was evacuated to Kazan with Evsei and Miron's families. She passed away there at the end of the war, around 1943-44.

My father's parents were religious. Their native language was Yiddish. Those of their children who stayed in Cherven also, as they followed Jewish traditions. Miron also followed some of the traditions (according to my scattered memories), but those who became komsomolki and party "chieftains", as well as the younger generation, already, of course, assimilated and became atheist.

My father, Israil Mikhailovich Maron, was born in 1905 in the “settlement” of Cherven, in Belarus. He had a secondary education, finishing school in Chechersk. He was known for his unusual charm and desire to help any person in need. He might even take off his last shirt. He was a singer and dancer, taking part in a drama circle before the war (until 1939). For his role as Platon Krechet in Minsk he received first prize in a folk art contest: a bicycle. He read Apukhtina beautifully, sang songs, and was a very wise and sociable person, loved by women. He was the representative for the first agricultural commune in the village of Edinstvo, Chechersk region, and was injured by bandits.

In the end of the 1920’s the peasants sent him to Kirov for help, probably because he dealt with agricultural machines, which were made in Petersburg. He came to the audience and directed the conversation so well that Kirov offered him a place in Petersburg. My father refused, however, saying that he was needed more in the village. Kirov fulfilled the peasants’ request and even helped my father out in his personal affairs.

The fact was that my sister Bronislava was born with congenital dislocation of the hip. It wasn’t immediately noticed only when she began to walk and limp. At the age of two, Father took her to Gomel, but there they refused to perform such a difficult operation. When my parents and sister returned from Gomel, bandits set their house on fire at night. They jumped out the window, Papa, barefoot with Broni wrapped in his shirt and in his arms. Kirov gave Father an opening at the military medical academy, where they performed an operation that was, for that time, unique. Mama was there with her and slept under her bed at night. During the day Mama helped to take care of the sick, feeding them, cleaning and washing on the floor. When Bronislava was studying at the Leningrad Medical Institute, a professor told the class during an orthopedics lecture about an unique operation done in 1929 on a two year old girl named Bronislava Maron. Bronislava stood up and said that she was that girl.

After party-economic study, Father became the head of the finance department in Chechersk. He was the undisputed authority for his comrades and colleges. In 1939-40 he was sent to do party work in the city of Belostoksk Region. He planned to get settled and bring over his family but didn’t get to it, the war interfered. Four days before the start of the war, accurately diagnosing the conditions at the border, he sent Mama a telegram: “hold off your arrival.” Father perished on the very first day of the war, when he carried party archives during bombing: a bomb landed on his car. They were to have taken the archive to the Osovi fort. His co-worker, Katz, who he sent for from Chechersk, was a witness. However, a bomb also fell on Katz’s car; he was injured and captured. He then escaped and got back to our side. All those who escaped with him were sent to a penal battalion, but her was sent to Siberia. He was asked, “how could you, a Jew, have survived?” From prison he returned sick and broken. My father was listed “missing in action.”

Of my father’s brothers and sisters, we were closest to uncle Miron (1898-1973). He and Father were very good friends. His real name was Mote Maron, he changed it to Miron Goldberg in order to escape the draft during the civil war. I’m not aware of the details of this story. Miron graduated from some sort of technical school and was an expert in timber marking. He came to work in Zagore with grandfather Borukh. There he met Hannah, the daughter of the brother of my grandmother Mera. They were married and had a son, Yosif. After the evil murder of their nine-month-old first-born during the pogrom in May of 1922, Hannah was ill for a long time. Miron punished the killers, he took part in their capture. After the pogrom, they moved to Chechersk.

Miron was tall, handsome and known for great physical strength. He could lift a horse alone. All the bandits of the region were afraid of him. One day, when he was carrying wages to the forestry area, bandits in the forest set him upon. He grabbed both of them and cracked their heads together so hard that one died immediately and the other lay senseless until the police came for him.

In Chechersk Miron worked at the timber mill in the village of Krasnii Bereg. When his first wife died, Miron, left with three children on his hands, married again. His second wife, Bassya, was a miraculous person: she took the place of the children’s mother. She had a son, Grisha, from her first marriage, but she and Miron had no children together.

When the war began, Miron organized a division of self-defense in Chechersk, in which his son Yakov took part. However, when the Germans came to Gomel, the division disbanded and most of its fighters joined the partisan division. Miron ended up in the trudarmy (worker’s army) as an expert in forestry (processing and timber felling) and was sent to Kuybeishev where he worked during the entire war. Yakov was evacuated with us, and the rest of Miron’s family left even earlier for his brother Evsei’s in Kazan.

After the war Miron took his family to Kuybeishev, but he missed his birthplace and after some time he returned to Chechersk with his family. He was the director of the timber factory in the village of Krasnii Bereg. His daughter Sofia graduated from the Minsk Pedagogical Institute and worked in a secondary school in Chechersk. Yakov graduated from the Moscow Forestry Technical School and worked in the city of Kalinin (now Tver) in a forestry building expedition. Klara graduated from the Leningrad Pedagogical Institute and worked in Kamensk-Uralsuk. She still lives there, is ill and has buried her husband, son, and many relatives. She calls herself the ‘burial crew.’

Bassya, Miron’s wife, was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Chechersk according to Jewish traditions. In Miron’s family they followed tradition more than in the families of our other relatives. Sofia, Miron’s daughter, is also buried there. Miron died in 1973 in Gomel, while living with his third wife. Even though Miron and my father Israil were very close, after my father’s death Miron never helped us. Money was sent to us by Evsei, who had five children of his own. Evsei Maron (1905-1992) was the director of a boarding school for troubled youth near Minsk, comparable to the labor colony in Makarenko, before the war. After the war he was the director of a secondary school in Kazan.

I don’t know when father’s brother Zalman and sister Sarah were born. I only know that during the war the Nazis shot Zalman, his wife and two young sons as well as Sarah, her husband Nolaima and their three children in Chechersk in 1942. Father’s sister Evdokiya (1912-1976) lived in Leningrad. She had no specified education, and worked as the head of the store of artifacts from the North Pole expeditions. Her twin brother Alexander (1912-1957) also lived in Leningrad. He was an economist, taught at the Leningrad Polytechnical Institute (LPI) and was a lecturer-internationalist along with the very famous Solonniki. During each lecture two stenographers worked in order to record each word of the lectrer and answers to the questions. In 1952-53, in one of Alexander Maron's lectures, a provocative question was asked that he however answered truthfully. After this he was removed from lecturing and fired from his job. He was unemployed for a long time. In 1957 he died from a stroke.

Yanka (Anna) Maron (1902-1974) lived in Leningrad and Moscow, and she was the wife of a public prosecutor. She was uneducated, but she was a strong and wise person. According to Yakov Goldberg’s daughter Anna, when her father, in 1945, arrived in Moscow accompanied by a nurse, with a shot-up arm and shrapnel in his head, he thought, “who needs and invalid?” That was what a 20-year-old thought; he believed that life was over for him. He called Yanka and she convinced him with her humor and life strength that all wasn’t so bad, seeing as he was still alive. Her own older son, Volodya, was killed near Leningrad. “Volodya has it worse,” she said. Yakov was helped and supported as much as Yanka could. Yanka’s second son, Boris Perchanok, my cousin, now lives in St. Petersburg. He graduated from LPI and was the head of the vibration laboratory at the “Electrosila” factory. We see each other. His wife Nellie is a volunteer at Hesed. They often attend events at Hesed.

My mother, Galina Borukhovna Maron, was born in 1907 in the village of Zagore, Chechersk uyezd [district]. Her personality differed from my Father’s. She was also a very kind and charming person, but quiet, home-loving. She sewed well but didn’t take part in any sewing circles. Her looks were very modest, differing from Father. She was born into a religious family where Jewish traditions were observed. Before the revolution she and her brother studied at Hebrew school, then in secondary school in Chechersk. She graduated from the Chechersk agricultural school. She was an accountant by specialty. My parents met in the village of Zagore, where Mama lived with her parents and Papa visited his brother Miron. When, after the pogrom, both families moved to Chechersk, Mama and Papa dated there and in 1926 were married. They lived in one big house with grandmother Mera, mother’s mother. Both my sisters and I were born in Chechersk.

When the war began, Mama, along with us, was evacuated first to Stalingrad region, then to Omsk region. At the station Moskalennaya in Omsk region, she worked as head accountant for the Moskalennaya “raipotrebsoyus” (regional union of consumers). In 1947 there was a money reform. The workers of the raispotrebsoyus were mobilized to help the sberkass [the state bank] workers exchange money. One of the workers invited my mother to have some of the money that the kazakhs were bringing in, as they brought it in in sacks and didn’t count it. Mama replied that her obtaining happiness through another’s suffering was impossible. Then that woman, afraid that Mama would tell on her, accused Mama herself.

At that time, because of the request of the wife of the first secretary of the raikom [regional committee], a special commission arrived to investigate the constant drunkenness of regional workers in the cafeteria. Mama was taken in for questioning. She didn’t take part in these parties, but she was questioned because she had signed for the wine. She answered, “I’m not stupid, I know that wine isn’t poured, it is drunk.” When they arrested several people from the group who had taken part in the cover-up of the drinking in the cafeteria, Mama wasn’t taken.

She was taken (as was later discovered) after that woman’s accusation on June 18th. Papa sent a telegram in which he told us to wait before coming [to him at the border]. Mama told no one about this during the war, but when there was conversation [at work] about the fact that the money reform existed because there had been a war and there was a war because the Germans unexpectedly attacked, Mama corrected them, saying that her husband knew. She meant [that he knew about the beginning of the war], if he warned us not to come, that there were traitors in the government [this was in the denouncement]. And on that same day Mama was arrested.

This fact wasn't brought up at the trial, and therefore she wasn’t given a major sentence, but they managed to expel me from school as the daughter of politically unreliable parents. This, even though I was a ninth grader and in the komsorgom [leader of the all-Union Leninist Communist Youth League ] of the school. My younger sister, studying in second grade, wasn’t touched.

Mama was found guilty of statute 109 – negligent relationship to her responsibility at work. This charge carried 9 years in prison. She was given 8. She was put in a colony near Omsk along with political prisoners. When she returned in 1953, she told me that she had met such people and understood more of her life than she had ever before. There were very many Jews there as well. Mother’s kindness helped her even in jail. She was assigned a to a cell with criminals and was chosen as the head of the cell, as someone always kind and correct. Mother was freed during the amnesty after Stalin’s death -- she only served six years. The charges against her were dropped. She returned to Chechersk and began working as an accountant-cashier for the village shop.

Before the war there was no anti-Semitism in Chechersk. I know this form my parents and grandmother. No one even had an understanding of this. It began to appear with the war. Mama ran into it immediately. She was hired because she was well known both as a specialist and as a good person. Then the representative of the ‘raipotrebsoyus’[regional consumers’ union] changed and she was instantly fired. She was the only Jew in the group. Her colleges loved her and went to plead for her, but could do nothing. Mama said to that person in the face “you’re a fascist.” As it turns out, she was correct. Several years later he traveled to some meeting in Western Belarus and there a woman recognized him as a member of the police. Not only that, he also took part in the execution of Jews. He was immediately arrested. So Mama was right, but he had fired her and she worked in a kindergarten, and then got sick and was forced to leave her work.

Her time in jail didn’t leave her without a trace. In December 1965 she was admitted to the psychiatric hospital in Beltzei Gomeliya region. At that time she lived with her younger daughter Anna in Gomel. Mama undressed and, in one robe and felt boots on the wrong feet, went walking in the winter and began to tear up her documents. She was terrified that she might have done something to her documents and she’d be put back in prison. Mama was then put in the hospital. I, at that time, was at the sanatorium. When Anya called me to say that Mama was ill, the director of the hospital let me out with the right to return when I had sorted things out. When Anya opened the door for me, she suddenly fainted on the doorstep -- she was that scared. Mama was released in April and she left for Ust-Kammenogorsk and Bronislava. We had decided that Bronya, as a doctor, was the best one to help Mama. There were periodic worsenings of her sickness and Bronislava determined her course of treatment. Mama died in 1973. She had contracted gangrene and her leg was amputated, then she passed away. I was also sick at that time, and I wasn’t told that Mama had died for 2 years.

Mama had a sister, Fira and a brother Emmanuil. Nine-year-old Fira was murdered during the pogrom in Zagore in 1922. Emmanuil and Mama were saved from the pogrom. My uncle Monya [Emmanuil] was born in Zagore in 1910. He loved horses very much. His father often brought him along on his work in forestry. Both rode very well. Monya grew up very active and mischievous, often playing tricks and offending his quiet sister, my mother. Their father Borukh often had to ‘deal with’ his son because of this. After their father’s horrifying death during the pogrom, Mama wept and said, “ now there is no one to defend me.” And her 12-year-old brother swore to help and defend her until his very death. This promise he kept. All his life he helped his sister and her children, especially when Mama landed in prison.

In 1930 Emmanuil graduated from the metallurgy school in Gomel and in 1931 he was drafted into the army after finishing summer school. After the army service, he worked in a factory in Leningrad, then was an instructor at the raikom [regional committee] of the komsomol for Kuibeishev region. In 1938, due to a komsomol pass, he became the head of the Vkusprom light industry of Leningrad that repaired all the food production factories in the city. During the war he served in the headquarters of the aviation communication for the Leningrad front. In 1946 he wad demobilized as a major and then was the director of sewing factory #5. Because he spent his whole life helping Mama and his sister’s family, he only allowed himself to get married at the age of 42, when I was already studying at the institute. Two years later, in 1955, he died of complications of a heart attack. It turned out that he didn’t even have decent clothes for the funeral. He bought himself a winter coat only a year before his death. He is buried in the Transformation Jewish cemetery in Leningrad.

There were two secondary schools: a large Belarussian school and a smaller Russian one. I studied in the Belarussian school, which was located in the former estate of Prince Potemkin’s niece, Countess Bezobrazova. Around this lovely building there was a very well kept park.
 

During the war

When the war began at the end of August 1941, we left Chechersk on foot, as the railroad was 60 km from the city. Part of the way we traveled by horse, part we hitchhiked, even in military vehicles. The group that left was as follows: grandmother, mother, me, my sisters and Yasha, Papa’s brother Miron’s son. Papa was at this time near Belostok. We arrived at the evacuation point in Gomel, which was the goods station of the Gomel railroad, under constant bombing. There we lost Anya. She had been frightened by the bombing, sat down on the ground and hid herself in some sort of garden, between the plots. We all jumped, called for her, all around us people were yelling, bombs were exploding and it was impossible to hear anything. Suddenly we saw that some man had raised his hands up high, and in them was holding our Anya. We were so thankful! We were evacuated to the village of Dobrinka-on-Hopr in Stalingrad region. There my mother worked and we went to school. The residents welcomed us well. Yasha graduated from secondary school there, and then left for the front. When the Germans began to encircle Stalingrad, we were evacuated to Siberia, to the station Moskalenniya in Omsk region. Mama worked there as an accountant.

Grandmother and Anya, in 1948, returned to Chechersk and I remained in Moskalenniya. I lived with the parents of my sister’s friend for a year and sent Mama letters. When the trial was held in 1949 and Mama was convicted, I returned to Chechersk.

In Chechersk I was afraid to go to school, thinking that here I would also be expelled because of my mother. My cousin, Clara Goldberg, Uncle Miron’s daughter, came over one day and said that the director of the school, Dubrovskii, wanted to speak with me. During the war Dubrovskii had been the commander of a group of partisans in the woods of Belarus. He told me, “I knew your father well, and your mother. They are good and decent people. You will go, right now, to class, sit at your desk and you will study like the rest. And you won’t tell anyone anything about your mother.” And so I did. In school the kids made me feel welcome. Our group of friends was international: Jews and Belarussians. I didn’t notice any sort of adverse reactions from my Belarussian friends. There were many Jews in our group because a large number of Jewish families had returned to Chechersk from evacuation.

All the Jews that had stayed in Chechersk perished. The Germans had rounded them all up and put them in the town hall. One of the guards warned them that the next day they would all be shot, and one ten-year-old girl managed to escape. They were shot and thrown into one of the anti-tank ditches that the residents had dug for the defense of Chechersk. In a second such ditch lie gypsies killed by the Germans. Their graves are located at the entrance to Chechersk on the Lysukha Mountain. In 1943 a memorial was placed there.

The Germans burnt down the synagogue and destroyed the Jewish cemetery. The people in the town didn’t light fires, but many houses burned down during the bombings because they were made of wood. Our home also burnt down, and after the war we lived in a little house that Uncle Emmanuil, mother’s brother, bought for us. The brother of Akulina, our former housekeeper, brought us some of our prewar things: pillows, towels, tablecloths and other things. Our house didn’t burn down immediately (it burned because of other houses). We ran behind the cemetery and Akulina’s brother rode up on horseback to take us to his house. He broke down our door, went into the house and saved a few things. That’s what people were like at that time.

After the war

It was difficult to study at school after the war because there were few textbooks. All the schoolbooks were sorted in such a way that each student in the class knew at what time he was to come to class. The textbooks were handed to each other in a chain. We read quite a lot in our free time. Books were passed on in the same fashion. My favorite teacher was the literature teacher, Rykunov. He was a unique person and teacher. How much he gave to us! In Chechersk at that time it was difficult to obtain books. In those days Yesenin was forbidden - we first heard of Yesenin through him. We would gather at his home. He told us a great deal, even quoting texts from memory. He could have paid with his job and diploma for reading Yesenin’s poetry.

At that time the movement to help the elderly and those who were left alone after the war was very widespread. We helped them as much as we could. The youth split wood, in the fall they helped to harvest potatoes, and in the spring they helped to plant them. We were also sent out to the collective farms to gather the harvest. We also took part in amateur artistic performances and often performed concerts for the farmers in the fields of the collective farms. In addition to this, our class rebuilt our school, which had been turned into a stable by the Germans. We temporarily studied at the Russian school. We worked all summer on the repair of our school, traveled to the forest, and prepared building materials. We were taken to plots of land, slept in peasant houses with the residents of the village Krasnii Bereg.

In tenth grade I was chosen as the secretary of the school komsomol. As a result, many years later, in the 1980’s, I was invited to our school’s anniversary. I was told that the members of the anniversary commission were very interested in meeting with their former classmates and teachers, but the greatest gift for me was seeing Dubrovskii, who had given me a path in life. At the time of that meeting almost no Jews were left in Chechersk. Some had left for Israel, some for America and some, because of high radiation after the Chernobyl catastrophe in 1986, for Gomel (there apartments had been offered).

In 1950 I graduated from school and left for Leningrad to enter the Pedagogical Institute named after Gertzen. I wanted to continue Rykunov’s work and teach literature at school. However, in Leningrad great disappointment awaited me. Here anti-Semitism was already widespread. An acquaintance of my uncle’s, who worked as the assistant head of the publishing house of the Academy of Science, interviewed me. He explained to me that there were “conditions whereby Jews shouldn’t be allowed to university in general, including the literature department of the pedagogical institute as ‘Jews can’t teach Russian literature.” The history department was also better left forgotten, and I turned my documents in to the geography department. This was a great loss for me, but I couldn’t risk anything as Mama was in jail. On the advice of my relatives, I hid that fact, saying that I was an orphan. My father truly did die in 1941, and about Mama I kept silent. In those days there were many orphans and no one was interested in checking out the facts. My documents were accepted. The fact that I came from an agricultural settlement also played a role, as it was fashionable at that time to accept such students in the Pedagogical Institute.

A Leningrad Jewish girl, Zhenya Vilenchik, with whom I became friends at the institute, had her documents returned to her at first on the pretext that there was a serious competition! Only the resistance of her father, an honored war veteran, who went to the rector and promised to “deal with” this question in Moscow, had any effect. Zhenya was and remains my best friend. She is very small. I sat next to her and said “let’s be friends. You’re little, and I’m big. I’ll defend you.” In fact everything turned out the other way around.

Zhenya had a wonderful, intelligent, Jewish family into which I was taken as a member. There were always many visitors there, especially young people -- friends of Zhenya and her younger sister. Zhenya’s mother always placed a saucer of sweet biscuits on the table, as I remember. I also recall one conversation. One day Zhenya’s mother was feeling sorry for me as an orphan. I then told her that I have a mother, but that she had been jailed in Siberia. She sat in silence, then said, “you can tell Zhenya about this, she’ll never tell anyone anything, but better not to tell her sister about it. “ I continued to be friends with Zhenya after graduating from the Institute. I met my future husband in her home, he was one of her sister’s friends.

When I graduated from the Institute I was sent to work as a geography teacher in the city of Tikhvin, Leningrad region. It was an “out-of-the-way place” where there were many Russian devout pilgrims. At that time I had many followers, the truest of which was Sasha Nikitin, a Russian by nationality. My uncles Monya and Zhenya really wanted me to marry a Jew, and were against Sasha. Then something happened. Sasha was sent to work in Berlin. He said in Moscow that he was in love with a Jewish girl and was told that in that case his appointment was withdrawn. When I heard that, I stopped seeing him.

At this time Mark, my future husband, returned to Leningrad after finishing the Minsk Higher Military School and we once again began to date. (We had dated earlier.) We celebrated New Year’s Eve together at Zhenya’s and were soon married. We had a daughter, Emma. I followed the fate of all officers’ wives. My husband’s mother was also the wife of a military officer, and worked at the headquarters as a nurse in the hospital. She was evacuated to Kamensk-Ufimsk. Mark’s father was a soldier in the regular army. From the first days of the war he was with the navy airforce, and was demobilized in 1955 as a lieutenant colonel. He was then the director of an artisan craft factory in Leningrad.

I worked as a geography teacher, and if there was no place as a teacher, I agreed to any sort of work. I was even the head of a library, giving lectures to soldiers. In 1966 I was hospitalized with the diagnosis of terminal “necrosis of the pancreatic glands.” I went through a unique operation, but I refused the invalid status and went back to school. I worked in the school for 22 years.

Because of my husband retired from the military, we returned to Leningrad, but there was no place there for us to live. I worked as a resident advisory in a dormitory, and he at the executive committee. After obtaining living quarters, I worked as a cloakroom attendant at the “Buff” theatre. First it was a temporary summer job, but when a post opened up, the director of the theatre refused to hire me. He said that he had too many Jews working at the theatre (directors and actors). I was hired as a watchman for the administration of the Lenkomcenter where, at that time, only Jews worked. After the director of the “Buff” theatre was fired (the troupe was instrumental in this), I returned there. I retired from the theatre in 1987. I was sent off warmly and touchingly.

Now I will tell you about my sisters. My older sister Bronislava was born in Chechersk on January 4th, 1927. She graduated from the 1st Leningrad Medical Institute in 1951. She was a very good student and she was to be kept on for graduate study. However, this was the time of widespread anti-Semitism and she was turned away. The explanation for refusing her admission was given in a private conversation: nationality - Jewish. She was sent to Kazakhstan, to the city of Ust-Kammenogorsk, where she spent the rest of her life. She worked as a doctor-therapist, then as the assistant head of the department in the 1st City Hospital. She raised two sons. Her older son Igor was born in 1952 and graduated from metallurgical technical school. He works in Ust-Kammenogorsk, at a lead-zinc factory, the same factory where Bronislava’s husband worked as a metal worker/ assembler. Her younger son, Alexander, was born in 1954 and became an engineer-builder. Bronislava died in 1982 of cancer. I traveled to take care of her. When I was sick, she had taken care of me. We were very good friends. After his mother’s death, in 1996, Sasha (that is, my brother Alexander) left Kazakhstan with his family for Israel. They live in Haifa. His daughter Natasha is serving in the army.

My younger sister Anna, born in 1938, graduated from the Leningrad Technical College of Light Industry as a “mechanic”. She was sent to Gomel, where she worked at the base, Oblsnab (regional supply). She married Boris Rafaelovich Hersonskii, a welder. Her son Mikhail born in 1963 and her daughter Irina in 1969. Mikhail graduated from the Gomel Agricultural Institute and works at the Gomel Agricultural Technology factory as an engineer of safety techniques. He is divorced. His daughter and wife live in Israel. Irina is a dental technician. Her daughter Galiya is seven. She is divorced.

My daughter Emma was born in 1995 in Leningrad. After graduating from secondary school the question of where to do further studies had to be answered. I really wanted to believe, while my daughter was growing up and my husband was serving in the army, that she wouldn’t have to deal with the problem of anti-Semitism when she entered the institute, but it turned out that little had changed.

  In the upper classes of school Emma studied with a very talented boy named Igor Zaer. He won all the physics olympiads in Leningrad. But his health was poor and therefore he had lived with and had been brought up by his grandmother and grandfather until 9th grade, somewhere in the center of Russia. He had been raised to believe that justice is everywhere and that there is no problem with anti-Semitism anywhere in the USSR. He came to Leningrad believing this, and decided, after graduating from school, to enter the Leningrad State University; that was his great dream. Both his parents and his friends tried to talk him out of applying, but he answered that it was all slander. “I don’t believe it and I’ll be accepted,” he said. His documents weren’t even taken and this was a blow for him. He tried to enter somewhere else, I don’t remember where, with the same result. In the end he entered the Pedagogical Institute, but all this had broken him. He studied for 3 or 4 months, then committed suicide. He left his bag on the Lieini Bridge with his notes and a message, “I don’t want to live like this and it cannot be otherwise.” He was his parents’ only son. That the university was closed for Jews was something that he couldn’t get over. His grandmother and grandfather had raised him to believe that we didn’t have such a problem, and he turned out to be unprepared to deal with it. It was a horrible shock for all the children at that school, and not only for his class!

My friend Volodya Turzhitzkii, himself an engineer and builder, came to us at home to speak with Emma. I, at that time, was on the eve of my fifth operation and didn’t feel well. Volodya said “Emma, builder-plumber - it’s not a secret, nor is it the most popular specialty. You can enter that department and then you’ll be able to work anywhere.” And Emma entered the “engineer of plumbing equipment” major at the Leningrad Institute of Railway Transport Engineering (LIRTE), which she graduated from in 1977.

She worked for about 12 years in construction and was the head of the reconstruction department of the Medical Institute, located in Ligovka. Then she took accounting courses and now works as head accountant for the “Znanye” company, which deals with translations. Emma married her classmate Viktor Pavlov, a Russian by nationality, out of great love, but at the moment they are divorced. She has two sons: Ilya, born in 1979 and Anton, born in 1985. The children are interested in the Jewish question. Anton wanted to go to a Jewish summer camp, but he wasn’t given a permission; they said that there were few places and none was left form him. Maybe this has to do with the fact that he is Anton Viktorovich Pavlov, I don’t know. We were very bitter over this.

Ilya is a fifth year student at the St. Petersburg State University in the department of low temperature and food technology, studying to be an “engineer – technician of bread, macaroni and confectionery production.” He has dreamed of becoming a confectionery specialist since childhood, ruining much food while trying to create something unusual. He is a very talented boy. In 2001, in Krasnodar, a contest was held in confectionery mastery in which 180 Russian companies took part, including the most famous ones, Moscow’s ‘Praga’ and Leningrad’s ‘Sever’. Ilya, along with his classmates, took part from their institute and won the first place, while ‘Praga’ and ‘Sever’ won only the second and third places. The contest was anonymous, and when their envelope was opened the commission was shocked. They baked a 35 kilo cake and the commission couldn’t guess even one of its components (this was one of the requirements of the contest). The cake was unbelievably delicious, made in the shape of a piece of cheese with a mouse on the top. It was made of cheese, various fruits, souffle, etc. Their institute received the 100,000-ruble prize, and was able to buy much-needed equipment. The kids received medals and diplomas.

My younger grandson, Anton is in 11th grade now, and he will also soon be dealing with the question of applying to an institute.

How do I feel about the emigration of Jews to Israel, America and Western Europe? I think that it is the personal business of each person. I, if I could, would also have sent my daughter and grandsons there. I would have sent them to America, because she was in Israel on an excursion and couldn't handle the hot local climate. Because of her health, she can't deal with heat. Maybe she had already had thoughts about emigration. She traveled there, but when she came back she said, "Mama, I can't handle that heat." We don't have the means to move to America.

The departure of friends is the most bitter page of our modern life; it's like the departure of a part of one's self. We write to each other, call each other when we can. Two of my closest friends are now in America. My Zhenka lives in Chicago. Zhenka [Eugenia Vilemchik] is a second me. She is my conscience and my best friend since September 1st, 1950. She has always been there to help me. Her parents are buried here in the Jewish section of the cemetery to the victims of the 9th of January [1905 Revolution], and now my husband and I take care of their graves, although now my husband does this alone as I am unable to walk. We also care for the graves of our relatives that are buried in the Jewish Transformation Cemetery in Leningrad. Sadly we can no longer get to the Jewish cemetery in Chechersk.

Several years ago I fell and broke my hip, and since then I walk with difficulty, aided by two canes. I don’t leave my house and am often tortured by pain. My husband is very caring and helps me enormously. I have a small pension, 750 rubles [$27], but my husband receives a veteran’s pension because he is a retired major and he continues to work in accordance with his specialty. Therefore we have enough to live on, although I am grateful to Hesed for their care and attention. I had glasses made for me at home, they send me packages, congratulate me on Jewish holidays and send invitations to concerts. At the moment I can’t attend the concerts, but my husband and daughter do. When I could still walk, I watched the Jewish performances at the Krupsky House of Culture. All those who sat in the hall had tears in their eyes.

I am in real need of medicine; each month 500 rubles is spent on them. Hesed has been providing me with reduced-price medicine for three years now. All of this attention, care and help from a Jewish organization really helps one live and cope with difficulties.

My cousin Boris Hananovich Perchansk lives in St. Petersburg. He is the son of my aunt Yana, Papa's sister. Boris has recently become very interested in Jewish traditions. His wife Nellie is a volunteer at Hesed, and he has started to attend, interested in various questions. Last year my sister Anya came from Gomel to visit along with the family of our deceased cousin Grisha (Miron's stepson), and Boris held Passover (Pesach) for us, following all correct Jewish requirements. There was matza on the table and all that was necessary. This was all very moving. I can't say how he celebrates at home, because I don't leave my house, but Nellie, as a Hesed worker, is present at all holidays and is very interested in these aspects. 

Today, with the help of different Jewish organizations, including the Jewish non-profit center "Hesed Avraam," Jewish traditions begin to renew themselves. At Hesed they often present lectures on Jewish traditions, distribute related literature, celebrate Jewish holidays and hold Shabbat on Fridays.
 

Vera Sonina

Vera Sonina
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Olga Egudina
Date of interview: February 2006

I met Vera Markovna Sonina in her cozy room in the House of Veterans of the Stage. [House of Veterans of the Stage was founded in 1896 by an actress Savina and was called Refuge for Aged Actors. At that time financial support was given mainly by private persons and institutions. Now the complex includes 7 inhabited buildings (185 places), a library, a concert hall, a special medical building, and a large park. Authorities are responsible for financial support of the inhabitants.] Vera Markovna is short, slim, light on her feet. Her eyes are dark brown. She manages to make an atmosphere of coziness and kindness around. Vera Markovna attracts attention of her interlocutor by her sincere youthful interest to outward life.

Unfortunately, the text of interview cannot fully impress the reader with Vera Markovna’s charm. She tells her life story accompanying it with singing, and sometimes even dancing.

My family background

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family background

I regret to say that I know nothing about my grandparents, especially about my great-grandmothers and great-grandfathers. I do not remember anybody of them alive. But I will never forgive myself that I did not ask my Mum about our relatives. You know, we had so hard times that there was no time for conversations.

I was born in 1918 in Zaporozhye. We lived there only 4 years, but I remember myself from two-year-old age, therefore I can tell you something about the Zaporozhye period of our life. We lived very poorly. My father worked at a grain-collecting station. [Grain-collecting station was an office, where merchants brought grain bought from peasants.] Mum never worked. But once together with my sister we were searching something in Mum’s things and came across her corset, her white bone fan and father's waistcoat of fantastic beauty. These things gave us possibility to judge about standard of living of their owners. But happy life of the family ended with my birth. Certainly the point was not in appearance of the next child in our family (I was the sixth one, including the died girl), but in the date of my birth: I was born in 1918, i.e. a year after the Revolution 1. Therefore I remember nothing except poverty. I do not remember if we lived in a house or in an apartment, but I know for sure that we lived in the main and luxurious street named Sobornaya. I can tell nothing about the Jewish community of Zaporozhye and about that of Smolensk (where we moved soon), too.

I remember from our life in Zaporozhye that there were Jewish pogroms 2. Once Daddy told us very seriously ‘Children, silence! I forbid you either to cry or to shout or laugh.’ Parents threw all our pillows and feather-beds to the distant room, and placed there younger children (me and Annette). Shura and Slava (our elder sisters) went to the basement. You see, when they pushed me to the feather-bed I was suddenly taken with a fit of laughter, and Daddy allowed me to laugh, but only very quietly. I remember nothing about this pogrom, except my unrestrained laughter. It is so good to be little! I remember one more about Zaporozhye. My sister Zhenya disappeared suddenly. Everyone was nervous, we were running, shouting. Our neighbors shouted to each other ‘Which of them is missing?’ - ‘Zhenya, of course, who else could it be!’ She was a well-known hooligan. And in the meantime I was creeping round the yard. There was a huge stack of fire wood there. It seemed to me similar to a city with streets, lanes, and squares. And there I saw Zhenya sleeping in one of those streets. That scene is still before my eyes, and I do not know the reason: probably, anxiety of adults impressed me.

When I was about 4 years old, my father got seriously ill. Later (when I was already adult) Mum whispered in my ear that Daddy could not accept Revolution and had fallen ill out of grief. I do not know whether it was true, but indeed father could not go on working. And he was the only earner in our family. My Mum had a sister, I do not remember her name, because we always called her simply Aunt. She was always rich (and my Mum was almost always poor). We did not love her. When she visited us in Zaporozhye, she always took a view of our room with disgust and said ‘Bela, it is impossible to live this way! Where can I sit down here?’ This Aunt lived in Smolensk. Parents decided to move there to be close to our relative. In Smolensk my Aunt had a large apartment. A large pantry was adjacent to it. That was the place where we took up our residence. Can you imagine that you place your sister and her dying husband with their six children in such conditions? This is beyond my mind! I think Mum understood at once that she would get no help, but there was no other place to go. In our hovel we together with my younger sister occupied an upper bunk bed. I often woke up shivering with cold and found out that Annette had fallen down together with our blanket. Usually she did not wake up and continued to sleep on the floor!

I do not remember my father in good health. I remember him sitting on the bench and panting. In Smolensk Daddy did not work. Mum went out to buy something, to change something, to sell something. I remember that once Mum brought home two small bits of saccharin and one of sugar. She gave saccharin to us, and sugar to Daddy. His bit of sugar fell down on the floor; Daddy reached out for it and fell down himself. There happened insult to his brain, and he never recovered. He died very soon. They brought us (younger girls) to our acquaintances, which lived in the next street: they did not want us to be present at the funeral ceremony. I was excited very much and shouted ‘I will take care of Daddy!’ Probably they did not tell me that father had died. A little bit later, when I calmed down, I was allowed to go out to the street. There I saw a procession of people dressed in black and suddenly understood everything: ‘They are carrying my Daddy!’ And nobody convinced me to the contrary. Later someone from adults told us that Daddy was below ground. And we (together with my sister) played our own game Meckalka (it was me who constructed it). It was a game of dreams. And the main dream was the following. One day someone knocks at the window, we open it and see Daddy dirty with the earth. ‘Mummy, Daddy came back!’ we shout, feeling no fear, only happiness because father is again with us…

Mum remained alone with 5 children, having no money, no job, and no profession. On top of it all, my elder sister Slava got ill with femur osteomyelitis. Doctors said that it was necessary to amputate her leg. But Mum answered ‘Over my dead body!’ She got to know from someone that in Petrograd there lived professor Kopylov who was able to treat that disease. It was unreal: just like to depart for Mars or Venus. Only a genuine mother could take that risk. In Dudinka village near Smolensk there lived uncle Grisha and aunt Sonya, mother’s or father’s relatives. Uncle Grisha came to Smolensk to dissuade Mum from her mad decision. Uncle Grisha brought with him a small jar with burdock oil for greasing his hair. I opened the jar, and we drunk it together with my sister. You see, what trifles I keep in my mind! But if we think it over, we’ll find it to be not so trivial. First of all, you can see my mischievous character, and second: it is absolutely clear that we were very hungry. So uncle Grisha told Mum that he considered her to be abnormal and asked where she was going to find money for the trip. And Mum answered ‘I’ll go without money: I’ll go to the engine driver and tell him that my daughter can loose her leg.’ The uncle said ‘But you will die on your way together with your children.’ Mum answered ‘So be it! But I will never let my Slava loose her leg.’ It was worth seeing! You see, my Mum was a meek dove in character: she never raised her voice at or laid her finger on her children. And to tell the truth, we were worth a good beating very often. I am sure that only a genuine mother could do it.

Now before I go on with the next period of our life, I’d like to tell you what I remember about my parents. I am the last one on the earth, who is able to do it. My father Mark (Meyer) Haimovich Sonin was born in 1880; I do not remember the place of his birth. He died in 1922 in Smolensk.

My mother Bela Aronovna (Gheller) was born in 1884 in Pochepy (Ukraine). Mum died at the age of 52 in 1936. At that time she looked like a very old woman. And you can compare: at the age of 57 I played a part of golden cock, wearing a ballet suit!

My parents loved each other very much. I do not know the details of their first meeting and marriage, but I know that Mum did not want to forget Daddy after she became a widow at the age of 39.

I do not remember anything regarding political views of my parents. My father supported a large family alone: I think that he had no time for politics. However our family members used to say that it was Revolution that undermined his health. As it followed from snippets of information, long before my birth my parents lived prosperously. For example, they said that there was one more daughter who died through inadvertence of her nanny: she gave her stale milk. I do not remember any nannies or other assistants in our family. I remember that we found among mother’s things some strange one and started to play with it. And Mum said ‘Do not touch swaddling clouts of your late sister.’ 

There was a photo of my father, which showed him together with two well-dressed young gentlemen playing musical instruments. One of them played banjo, another one played a guitar, and my Daddy - a mandoline. Mum said sometimes ‘Oh, your father liked to take a stroll round the clubs.’ But our hand-to-mouth existence made me consider it fantastic.

Once I asked Mum, why we had such names, absolutely not Jewish. And she said that when we were born, they gave us Jewish names, but later they changed them. Originally I was called Dobe-Dveyre and my sister Annette - Dane-Ite. I immediately composed a song: Two little Jews are sitting at the table, they are Dobe-Dveyre and Dane-Ite, and they both are doubly fools. It was my first poetic experience. Our Jewish names were recorded in father's notebook. He wrote there: daughter Shura (Sara-Rose) was born, and the same about all other daughters. I remember nothing specifically Jewish from my childhood. The only remembrance about my Jewish origin was Yiddish, which our parents (and later Mum and elder sisters) spoke if they wanted to keep something from kids. We (younger sisters) did not know Yiddish at all.

I think that my parents were not religious people. I do not remember from my early childhood any Jewish holidays or Sabbath celebrations. I do not know if Daddy visited synagogue. I guess he did, and probably he prayed at home. After mother's death we found tefillin in his things. I also remember a mezuzah at the door. I think that it was in Zaporozhye: at that time I was about 4 years old and Mum took me in her arms and said ‘Vera, kiss the mezuzah.’ 

I remember my father a little, but absolutely clear. I remember how he got ill and how he died. I loved him very much. I know that he waited for a son. And Mum gave birth only to girls. And I know that Mum lost a baby by miscarriage. I got it to know by chance. I was sent to a city children's winter sanatorium. It happened already in Leningrad. In the sanatorium they fed up weakened and hungry children. When Mum brought me to a doctor to receive an order for that sanatorium, he began to ask her about details of her pregnancies, deliveries, etc. And at that moment I heard from Mum the word miscarriage. It was unknown to me, that was why I seemed to hear a foundling. I thought that someone from our family was a foundling. In the night time (we slept in the same bed) I pressed my poor Mum ‘Mum, I’ll tell nobody, I swear! Which of us is a foundling, tell me!’ I thought that most likely it was Annette: she was the only one with blue eyes. Many years later Mum told me that there were no foundlings in our family.

Mum was a lamblike meek person. In fact, she became a widow at the age of 39, having 5 little girls on her hands. It was necessary to feed all of them. Mum was a real beauty. Her hair was very long, it reached her knees. For a very long time she had no gray hair. And then she had a blood-stroke. I visited her in the hospital and was shocked to see her closely cropped. Mum never raised her voice speaking to us; she never laid a finger on us. But the elder sisters often beat the younger ones, and how strong! Here I have to tell you the truth that we deserved what we got. You see, our elder sisters worked, studied and kept the house. It often happened that they washed floors (in order to heat up water for it, it was necessary to burn coal in the stove!), and we (younger sisters) drew squares for hopscotch on the floor (using chalk) and jumped. Moreover, we used to invite our friends from the yard. Sometimes Mum feared for us and said ‘Children, go to housing services and tell that they beat you. Soviet authorities do not allow beating children.’ [Housing services are now named house management offices; they are responsible for maintenance of buildings.] 

Now I understand that Mum was very lonely. Her children were friends to each other, and she got no friends in Leningrad. She did not communicate with her rich sister. Mum never worked, but strived for making her contribution on the family budget. A woman called Rivva lived next door. She had got two children and a husband. Her husband was not successful: I mean maintenance of his family. Rivva had to paddle her own canoe, like my Mum did. Somehow they got acquainted with Mum and tried to earn money together. That period of time (as well as many subsequent) was characterized by great shortage of products. But from time to time they offered for sale fabrics in Gostiniy Dvor. [Gostiniy Dvor was one of the largest department stores in Leningrad.] People had to spend in lines all night long. And so, Mum and Rivva stood in those lines. Sometimes they took me with them: that was the way to buy some more meters of fabric. Later they carried their purchases to some person named Lyuba Chernaya. She, in turn, distributed fabrics among fashion houses and only after that she gave us money (a little bit more, than we had spent for the purchase). Our take-home pay was beggarly, but we had no possibility to refuse (our budget was very modest).

I do not remember relatives of my parents. I already told you about uncle Grisha, who was very fond of burdock oil, but I do not remember if he was kin to our family. Mother's sister, called Aunt, remained simply Aunt forever.

I do not remember anybody from our family to leave home for rest.

Well, we boarded the train, and we (younger girls) were put on the third luggage shelf. I made a protest against it, because I did not like the car ceiling to hang over me. But even under these conditions we managed to find occupation. Uncle Grisha had given us his burdock oil (possibly he had a pathological predilection for it). He said that it was an expensive thing, and we would be able to change it for something important for us. We remembered that it was forbidden to drink it, that is why we used it according to prescription, i.e. we greased our heads.

Our Aunt already lived in Petrograd. She did not manage to live in Smolensk and left before us. She lived in the luxurious house, in the large lordly apartment. She allowed us to live at her, having warned that not longer than for three days. When after long and hard trip, we (hungry and unhappy) came into her apartment, she hold her nose with scented scarf and said ‘Oh, what a smell!’ She felt neither compassion, nor love for us - nothing except disgust. Certainly, we were in terrible plight and order. All of us got lice during the long way. As for me, I was closely cropped. They spread some ointment over my head (it burned my skin awfully). Later I read Sholom-Aleichem’s ‘There is no poverty without lice.’ 3

Mum began to search of lodging at once. She was a poetic nature. She started searching for apartment near the Summer Garden. [The Summer Garden in Saint Petersburg is the oldest garden of the city: it was founded in 1704 by the architects Leblon, Zemtsov, and Matveev.] And she managed to find a large apartment on the ground floor. Before the Revolution it was a servants' room. The apartment was very damp, moisture oozed directly from walls. We tried to bring order to our new apartment altogether. We, younger girls distracted adults more than helped, but were very proud of ourselves. The true miracle was in the fact that doctor Kopylov whom we came to, lived next door. I still do not know if it was a concurrence or Mum chose apartment for us already knowing his address. Mum, ragged, put silver spoons into a bag, took my hand, and we went to the doctor. I was a tiny and a very thin girl with a big red nose (I had continuous cold). Mum said ‘Dear sir, my daughter is in great danger. I am a widow; I have no money, take these spoons and save her!’ And she kneeled at his feet. I saw the doctor was near to melt into tears. He lifted Mum from her knees and said ‘Madam, calm down. Bring your daughter here immediately.’ I ran home to bring Slava. The doctor examined her at home and said ‘We will save her leg.’ He operated my sister and her leg was saved. Before the operation he invited Professor Vreden for medical consultation. [Professor Vreden (1867-1934) was a well known Soviet surgeon-orthopedist. In 1906 he founded the first orthopedic institute in Russia and became its director.]

Doctor Vreden was well-known, but he also took part in Slava’s destiny. Of course doctor Kopylov refused to take those spoons. He even felt hurt and said ‘Madam, I am a genuine doctor, I am obliged to save people, and money is of no importance.’ Soon Kopylov died. I remember magnificent ceremony of his funeral. I burst out sobbing, and nobody could understand what relative of him I was. He was in coffin, and I shouted ‘Dear doctor, thank you very much for our Slava!’ Now we understand what kind of doctors worked at that time! They made no difference between life of a beggar, an unknown girl from province and life of eminent and rich patient.

So our life went on. After successful operation that saved Slava’s leg, it became clear that we came to Petrograd not in vain. Soon my sister Annette went to school. Once she told me ‘Do you know that everything we write and speak consists of 33 letters?’ I did not believe her. For a long time she tried to convince me of it. Her words shocked me. I could not imagine that some day I would be able to read.

In our family only Shura and Slava (elder sisters) worked. Shura worked at cardboard factory. They made boxes there. Slava also worked nearby. Her work was very dangerous for the person who had been operated on recently. She soaped wine bottles at the wine factory: all days long she spent in a damp room standing on the stone floor. Shura and Slava kept the house. They cooked, washed, and ironed for all members of our family. They worked and studied at rabfak 4.

Growing up

Certainly I consider Petrograd-Leningrad to be the city of my childhood. Do not forget that though we lodged in the awful apartment, it was situated in the most beautiful place of our city. We realized the beauty which surrounded us; it was unconscious, but clear. We even bowed our thanks to the beautiful. It was a special ceremony: I composed verses, beautifully wrote it down, and we buried that sheet of paper in the Summer Garden.

Entrance to our apartment was made directly from archway. In the apartment there were 3 rooms and 2 big store-rooms. The first room was occupied by Slava, the second one belonged to Shura, and Mum, Zhenya, Annette and I lived in the third room. We took pieces of our furniture from the scrap-heap. Stove heating in our apartment was arranged in a very strange way: the only stove was situated in the corridor, therefore it was awfully cold in the apartment. In winter we all moved to one room and used to sleep in one bed lying across. At first we lived in real poverty. In winter Annette and I went out by turns: we had only one set of warm clothes. I already told you about our game Meckalka, i.e. our dreams. So, there was a dream (second important after father's raising from the dead) to find a treasure of sweets to feast right royally. But at home we never had sweets.

We did not celebrate Jewish holidays and did not observe tradition. Mum probably knew when it was necessary to celebrate holidays, but she never spoke about it. I do not know any Jewish family which observed tradition. I guess that those who observed it, preferred to hold their tongue.

I know nothing about the Jewish community of Leningrad of that time. Moreover, when I became a student of the Leningrad College of Physical Culture named after Lesgaft [it was founded in 1896], I sometimes went there by tram. I say sometimes, because not always I had money for it. And so, many years later I got to know that the tram stop was a few steps away from the synagogue, but I had not a slightest idea about it.

And now I am going to surprise you. We had nothing in our apartment, we had meals not every day, and our clothes could gain sympathy of a hard-hearted person, but we always had books. These books appeared through the efforts of our silent and patient Mum. One day she came home and said ‘My dear daughters, today I had not enough money to buy bread for all of us, therefore I bought this cheap book instead.’ So that was the way books began to appear. We used to gather under an unshaded lamp and read aloud by turns. Zhenya was the best reader. To tell the truth, she tried to read with expression in her voice, but not always it helped to find sense. Till now I remember her phrase ‘At the patient’s bed there sat a nurd.’ She wanted to say nurse, but failed. It was impossible to laugh at her. In that case she stopped reading and was able to hit the laugher across his face.

This joint reading is one of my dearest memoirs. It was a substitution for entertainments, and often for supper. We liked to buy sets of NIVA magazine. [NIVA was a Russian weekly illustrated magazine for family reading in 1870-1918, editors used to publish works of many Russian and foreign writers there: it added to popularity of the magazine.]

One day a person selling NIVA magazines near the secondhand bookshop gave us a set of magazines free-of-charge. He said ‘Madam, the way your girl is looking at my books makes me throw away a chance to earn money.’ Do you know, what is interesting? My Mum always wore bad and awfully bad dresses, but nevertheless people always called her madam. Her extraordinary nobleness always shined through her rags. We did not subscribe for any newspapers: we had no money. Annette and I were school library readers.

My sister was my best friend. I also made friends with a Jewish girl Raya. Her family lived on the third floor of our house. Her mother Rose was a dressmaker. She taught my sister to sew. After Annette started sewing for us, we looked much better.

At the age of 8 I went to school. But soon that school was closed (I do not remember the reason). I found a new school on my own; it was situated far away, but in a very beautiful building. I had to cross 3 busy streets, including one with a tram-line. Nobody took into his head the idea to accompany me there: I was so independent that it was beyond my endurance. One day on my way to school I stopped feasting my eyes upon a beautiful ancient church. I came to myself only when the tram driver jumped out of his cabin and tried to pull me down from tram-line tweaking my ears. He used bad language, and I asked him ‘Guv, do you think that baron Munhgauzen hung himself on this bell tower?’ [Baron Munhgauzen is a hero of Adventures of Baron Munhgauzen novel by E. Raspe.] His answer was a little bit unexpected ‘All barons were shot down during the Revolution.’

At school I made many friends: I was a very sociable girl. At school we did not care who of us was Jewish and who not. But in our court yard everything was different. Once Maruska, a neighbor (a little girl of my age) heard me singing a romance Cornflowers, Cornflowers. [Cornflowers, Cornflowers was a popular petty-bourgeois romance in the middle of the 19th century.]

She shouted ‘Cornflowers, Cornflowers - and you are a dirty Jew!’ I heard this word for the first time in my life; I was surprised and answered ‘You are wrong, I am Sonina.’ I went home to ask my Mum about that new surname. Mum said that she would explain the details later, when I grew older. She also said that there were different nationalities and that noses like mine were typical only for Jews, but it was not a shame. Mum advised me to say Maruska that she behaved like a swine. For my mild Mum that word was the most abusive she could ever say. After that when we were playing lapta, Maruska was jealous of my adroitness and I recalled that I was Jewish. According to my Mum’s advice I said ‘The dirty Jew catches ball very well, and the swine is not able to do it.’

In our house there lived good people: for instance, Semen Fomich and his wife Nastya. He was a person of remarkable kindness and selflessness. During blockade 5 he made runners and fixed a huge container on them. All inhabitants of our house used it to carry water from the Neva River. He did not survive the blockade, but his wife Nastya came through it.

When I was in the fourth form, I changed my school for another one which was nearer to our house. My friend and neighbor Raya was my classmate. She always had her lunch with her, and she was generous enough to share it with me. I was the poorest in our class and never accepted anything from anybody, but for some reason I took Raya’s food easily.

They say ‘Childhood, childhood, our happy childhood.’ But you know I do not want to return to my childhood. Do you remember Sholom-Aleichem’s ‘Well, what for has God created bugs?’ I remember my elder sisters struggling against bugs in our beds and lice in our hair! Until now I recollect with horror the moment when a pupil on duty at our school said to our teacher in presence of my classmates ‘And Sonina has lice.’ Poverty and starvation are always accompanied by lice. Every evening Mum said ‘Children, let me look at your heads.’ She started combing insects out from our hair by means of fine-tooth comb. No, I do not want that sort of childhood!

I studied at school 8 years. There I hated mathematics, physics and chemistry. But at the College it was necessary to learn chemistry, and I found it to be very interesting, because at that time I already knew the purpose to study it. 

I liked literature, history, social science. We had a very good teacher of history. During breaks I always attacked him with different questions: sometimes he even had no time to have a drink of tea. I also was very interested in natural sciences: I guess taking care of people always was my second nature. You know, I am very glad that during the war I had to work in a hospital. The point is not only that I helped people, contributing to our victory over fascists. It was very interesting for me to do work there.

Starting from my 1st class I appeared on school stage every holiday: I recited poetry, danced, and sang songs. At that time beggars went from house to house singing doleful romances. Their texts used to be only for grown-ups, but I remembered them immediately and copied with pleasure. I even derived benefit from it. There was a bakery next door to us in a basement, where they baked wafers. They used to sell wafers filled with ice cream. Both ice-cream and wafers were absolutely prohibitive delicacy for us. The only thing we could afford were cuttings of wafers which they sold at a very low price. It was necessary to come with a clean pillowcase to get those cuttings. Well, workers of that bakery adored me, because I sang and danced for them. They called me a little Gipsy and gave me a lot of wafer cuttings. All children from our house considered it to be great success to go for wafers together with me. The only thing that confused me was laughing of my spectators: I sang so touching songs… Mum knew about my success and decided to develop my abilities and found children's drama school for me. Children aged from 12 till 16 studied there. They had 3 departments: for musicians, singers, and theater fans. I entered theatrical one. They taught us very well: I mastered basics of my future profession. They also gave us some food. There I heard strange words ‘Today you will have an omelette.’ I had no idea about it, and thought that it was a sort of punishment. But they brought a huge frying pan with fried eggs. I brought a piece of it to Mum. She turned away from me to the window and began crying. I was a little girl, but I understood at once, why she was crying. I heard her unvoiced words ‘I did not want my children to have such childhood.’ At the studio I have been studying for three years. 

When I recall days of my childhood I understand that the most part of my life was occupied by reading. I used to read till dark, sitting on the window-sill, using daylight up to the last ray. I remember myself sitting on the window-sill with a book (as usual) and our neighbor, father of my friend Raya passing by. He used to say ‘Oh, Vera you are standing guard! Hi, Vera!’ You know, I read much, but I was never boring. I used to arrange children's performances right in our dreadful, damp, cold and poor apartment. All children from our court yard were spectators, and we were actors (Raya and me). Raya had fiery red hair. She usually played roles of clowns. I liked to play the role of a street cleaner (I fixed a beard to my chin). Texts were also written by me. In spite of her hysterical features, Shura never forbade our performances. And in case Slava came home before the end of our performance, she dismissed all of us saying ‘Everyone out!’ At that time I did not understand how tired she was, and considered her to be heartless. I never was a member of any club, and was never interested in politics. It was enough for me to study at school and be engaged in my drama school. We never went anywhere to have a rest. We had no idea about going to a restaurant. For the first time in my life I went by train when we moved from Smolensk to Petrograd. I do not remember any car trips. Going by tram was a profusion. I remember that one cold winter day sirens wailed out and car drivers sounded their horns. Mum said that Lenin died 6. It produced no impression upon me.

Now I’ll tell you about my sisters. My elder sister was Alexandra, everyone called her Shura. Her Jewish name was Sara-Rose. She was born in 1908 in Zaporozhye. She had a magnificent mop of fair hair. Shura was a hysterical girl. She sometimes beat us until she stopped with pain in her hands. And then she embraced us and started wailing ‘Oh you, our poor orphans!’ She studied at the evening faculty of some economic college. I do not remember where she worked after graduation from her College. She died during the siege of Leningrad. My brother-in-law, Zhenуa’s husband was at the Leningrad front and saw Shura shortly before her death. All my life I felt unhappy about the fact that Shura died, thinking that I was not alive. You see, I was in Kishinev, when the war burst out and had no connection with my relatives during a long period of time. Shura was never married.

My next sister was Slava, her Jewish name was Sliva. She was born in 1910 in Zaporozhye. She died of brain cancer. I guess it happened in 1960s. She was operated, but after the operation she managed to live not long. She wanted to become an electrical engineer, but right at that time Stalin said that our country needed textile-workers. And she entered a Textile College. I never saw such wonderful smile as of hers. In compare with Shura, her character was different. I can judge by punishments she imposed upon us: no shouts, no hysterics, one strong spat on the face and the punished girl was sent into a dark corridor. I was so much afraid of it that felt spasms thinking about it. Above all I was afraid of darkness. Slava had a husband. I hated him. His name was Boris Leytes. He was from Smolensk by origin. He did not manage to join our family: Mum felt embarrassed and never came out of her room when he visited us. It seems to me that Slava did not love him. She married him because she felt shy with strangers because of scars on her leg (after operation). I guess she married the first person who asked her. Their daughter Rita lives in Israel now. I do not remember when she was born. Rita has got 2 children: a daughter and a son.

My third sister was Eugenia (Zhenya), her Jewish name was Genye. She was born in 1912. She got married very early and gave birth to a daughter Bela. I can not recollect what her profession was. Her husband was a very good person; we all loved him very much. Until now I call him in mind and cry bitter tears. His name was Vladimir Alexandrovich Lebedev. He was a professional military. He lived near to us. After marriage Zhenya moved there. I helped them a lot after their daughter was born: I spent nights at them and awakened Zhenya who had to breast-feed her child, but could never wake up in time. Zhenya died recently (in 2000).

My fourth sister, my favorite sister and friend was Annette, a blue-eyed angel. Her Jewish name was Dane-Ite. She was born in 1916. When Shura beat us, I shouted twice more for both myself and Annette: she never let out a cry, only shed large tears. I cried ‘Do not dare to beat my Annette, beat me.’ When I recollect it, my life seems to me a mixture of Sholom-Aleichem and Dostoevsky 7. Annette did not manage to enter a college, she finished Hydrological Technical School. She was assigned to work in Karelia, in Kondopoga. There she married Tochilin, a chief engineer. He was ill with pulmonary tuberculosis. Annette got infection from him and came back to Leningrad to die. Here she died on my hands. It happened in 1946. There was no person closer to me than her. Until her death she was extremely afraid to infect me: she did not permit anybody to use her tableware. She also tried to serve herself till her last days. 

And the fifth sister, the last one called by the members of our family ‘a little finger’, was me - Vera. My Jewish name was Dobe-Dveyre.

I already told you that my elder sisters lived hard life. Our Mum did not manage to master housekeeping in the inhuman atmosphere we lived in. She was able to cook, but she needed good products, and we had almost nothing. She said ‘I’m not able to cook your broth.’ Sisters cooked, washed, and sewed, or rather repaired old clothes.

When I finished my school, my childhood (not easy childhood) terminated also. I started working. But I already worked part-time, being a schoolgirl. We made envelopes for an envelope workshop. I made all my friends sit down at the table and organized the process. Most difficult for me was to keep still for a moment, therefore I brought material for envelopes from the workshop, gave the task, counted envelopes, carried our production back to the workshop. One more: I decided that it was easier to work with a song, so I kept a check on everybody singing.

My work after school was also connected with envelopes. Shura worked in an institution, which was engaged in dispatching of huge amount of some materials. They needed a person for packing those materials in envelopes. It was me, whom they put on to do that job. I had surprisingly adroit hands. I worked faster, than two my colleagues. One of these colleagues used to take herself hundreds of envelopes that were packed by me. And I did not dare to tell anybody about it, because I was very much afraid to lose my work. There I worked during 2 years. My salary was crummy, but for our family every kopeck was important.

All the time I was interested in theatre and in everything connected with it. I had no money to buy tickets. But I kept in touch with my former friends of drama school, and they told me all theatrical news. That was the way I got to know about admission to the studio at the Theatre for Young Spectators. [State Theatre for Young Spectators in St. Petersburg (Leningrad) is one of the oldest children's theatres of Russia. It was founded in 1922.] The studio prepared actors, mainly for children's theatres. I went there to participate in casting. And you remember that I was very short, slim, and big-nosed. They considered me to be apt for travesty. They gave me scholarship of 16 rubles, and I gave up my job. Simultaneously I entered a studio for adults (Sladkopevtsev, an actor was its director). [Vladimir Sladkopevtsev, an actor was born in 1876 and died in 1957.]

They got to know about it in the studio at the Theater for Young Spectators. They did not like it - that is why I had to leave the studio. Then I decided to enter Theatrical College. [The Leningrad College of Theater, Music and Cinematography (nowadays Theatrical Academy) was founded in 1918 as School of Actor's Skill.] For some reason it seemed to me that I was too young for that purpose. That was why I forged my age in the passport without hesitation. At the College there was large entry. Before the entrance examinations entrants had to pass through creative selection (it consisted of 3 tests). I happily reached the third test, but at that moment they found out that I had forged my passport and immediately kicked me out. So I got nothing and looked like a fool. But fortune is variant: I met a remarkable person. A year before that, Pauline Conner, an American dancer came to our city. She opened a dancing school in Leningrad. And I got to know that she invited extra students. Total number of students was planned to be 8. Rector of the Leningrad College of Physical Culture named after Lesgaft (his surname was Zelikson) put a gym hall for her disposal. The hall was amazing! There were mirrors and ballet railings on the walls - the hall was equipped according to high standard. Besides me, all schoolgirls were students of the College of Physical Culture (gymnasts).

We (newcomers) began to study together with those girls who had already studied a year. It was difficult, but of paramount interest. Unfortunately we studied with that remarkable ballet dancer only a year. Stalin decided to expel all foreign experts from the USSR. Pauline Conner also left our country. By the way, when she was going to visit cold Russia, she took several fur coats with her. All these fur coats she dealt out to her senior schoolgirls, therefore no fur coats fell to our share. But the point was not in fur coats: we lost our dear friend and a remarkable teacher. At the same time rector Zelikson was dismissed. His post was occupied by a person named Nikiforov. Nikiforov helped us very much. We, students of Pauline Conner were absolutely depressed, we did not know what to do. And the new director took us in. We became students of the gymnastics department. It happened in 1936.

Our curriculum was very extensive. We studied both anatomy and physiology, and even chemistry. I liked these subjects very much (even chemistry!) and helped everybody to prepare for examinations. Our teachers said ‘If you want to get a good mark, go to Sonina.’ After graduation I was invited to work at the Faculty of Physiology. But I refused, because I wanted to get practical experience. Then they asked me where I wanted to go (according to mandatory job assignment 8) to teach physical culture. I did not want to leave Leningrad, and kicking over the traces I poked my finger into a map at random. My finger hit Syktyvkar. I was horrified and hid myself, waiting. They started calling me by phone, reminding that I was waited for in Syktyvkar. And in 1941 the Day of Physical Culturist had to be celebrated already for the third time in Moscow. All Soviet Republics had to send their representatives to Moscow. The main parade was planned for June 22 9. I participated in two previous parades being a student, and remembered well their pomposity. We marched in step with music of Shostakovich, wearing black bathing suits with red wings.

During the war

From participation in these parades I had two main memoirs. The parade took place in the Red Square. [Red Square is the main square of Moscow.] Participants had to march by Lenin's mausoleum. They forbade us to laugh and even to smile 100 meters before we reached mausoleum and 100 meters after it. I also remember very tasty meals we were given there. My hungry childhood left me interested in tasty meal until death. So after another call from Syktyvkar, the College received an order to send some graduate to Moldova to prepare Moldavian athletes for the parade. As I was the only graduate still staying in Leningrad, they decided to send me. I went to Kishinev. But it appeared to be not so simple. First of all, I went there by plane (and it was for the first time in my life!). For some reason the plane landed in Odessa at a small airport. Till now I remember air in Odessa: fragrant with the delicate scents of heady grass and sea. The pilots felt sorry for me and decided to take me to Kishinev by a small two-seater. It made me so sick! But nevertheless all the time I was looking through the window, bewitched by unfamiliar and fine southern landscapes. My pilot decided to amuse me singing Ukrainian songs. There was nothing special in it and I would have forgotten that song if it did not appear to be prophetical. The song told about a Cossack leaving for the front line. His going away was a sore grief to his beloved. She gave him a scarf to have his eyes covered if he would be killed. Do not forget that it happened on June 14, 1941!

Well, I reached Kishinev and began preparing local athletes for the great event - parade in the Red Square. Basically I taught them dancing. Knowledge I got from Pauline Conner was useful. I lived there like in paradise. I never saw so much food. People used to leave leftovers (for instance white bread!) on their plates! Sometimes they even threw bread away (terrific!). It seemed to me real blasphemy. And what markets, what wonderful fruit they had! One day during my training session a boy ran in and shouted ‘Teacher, a bomb fell down over there!’ I said ‘Easy, easy, it is alarm for instruction.’ You see, in Leningrad they often arranged alarms for instruction and occupied citizens by civil defence studies. Later another boy brought the same message. And then we heard Molotov’s speech by radio 10. No doubt: war burst out! I felt responsible for my students and arranged the procedure of sending them home (in fact in Kishinev they gathered athletes from all over Moldova). Then I decided to go to a military registration and enlistment office. [Military registration and enlistment offices in the USSR and in Russia implemented official call-up plans.] Right away I asked them to send me to the front line: I could not imagine another way to live during the war time.

They told me ‘We are not able to waste our time talking to a woman. You should go to Leningrad, to the place of your registration.’ One of my colleagues (a Moldavian) took me to the railway station. A lot of trains went through Kishinev; all of them were overcrowded - it was a real mess. As for me, I already did not care where to go, I only wanted to change. My friend seized me by the collar and pushed me into the moving train. I fell down on heads of other passengers, but nobody grumbled. The train arrived to Odessa. There I went to a local military registration and enlistment office again. They were glad to see me and said that as far as I was a graduate of the College of Physical Culture, they directed me to the military hospital #411. Injured people were already taken to that hospital. My position was called a nurse, but in fact I did a lot of different work, necessary for the hospital. I both cleaned wards and assisted during operations. I managed to apply knowledge received at my College. I knew both anatomy and traumatology; I was able to make complex bandaging. I mastered all medical procedures very quickly and easily learnt names of medical instruments. I was lucky to work together with a remarkable doctor and a noble person - professor Ghinkovskiy. During the first operation professor Ginkovskiy whispered to the second surgeon ‘And does the newcomer know the instruments?’ And he got the following answer ‘Better than anyone!’

Soon Odessa suffered from bombardment. The hospital was evacuated. After a long way we found ourselves in Samarkand. I asked to send me to the front line. But director of our hospital put me to shame. He explained me that at bottom of fact hospital was a front line and that I had to stay where I could make myself useful. So I became thoroughly engrossed in my work. I elaborated rehabilitation system for casualties. I ran my training sessions to music. They gave me a pianist, and she appeared to be my countrywoman. She was also born in Zaporozhye and evacuated to Samarkand. We made close friends. By the way, my method of rehabilitation awaked interest of doctors from the 1st Leningrad Medical College, which was evacuated to Samarkand, too. These doctors came to our hospital, and were present at my training sessions. Try to imagine, how proud I was! I worked 24 hours a day, almost without sleeping, and I never felt tired. All my feelings were replaced by feeling of great sympathy to those wounded men. Before their discharge wounded persons appeared before the special commission which decided what to do: send them to the front line or demobilize. I was a member of that commission. The truth is that twice I played a cunning trick. Two wounded persons had limited mobility of arms after deep wounds. By means of my method I was able to rehabilitate their arms. But one of them had 6 children and the other one - 5. They were not very young any more. I told the commission that those cases were long uncared-for and that those men would never be able to shoot. And I told the truth to those wounded persons. I said that the front line would not grow poor because of the loss of 2 soldiers, it would be better for them to bring up their children. I received letters from them (from their native villages) for a long time.

In the hospital they gave us not so much food, but it was of good quality, they gave us meat once a week. They paid us salary, to tell the truth, very small. Suddenly I received a letter from my sister Annette. She found me by a miracle. She had been evacuated to the Urals.

Later I received a letter from the Leningrad Theatrical College (from Tomsk, where the College had been evacuated). Serebryakov, director of the College wrote to our hospital that Sonina Vera Markovna, a teacher of physical culture must leave for Tomsk (to the College). I took that letter and went to the military registration and enlistment office again. I said ‘Either you send me to the front line or I go to Tomsk.’ - ‘Front line is not interested in women’, they answered. - ‘Go to your College.’ It happened in 1944. I reached Tomsk and began to study at the Theatrical College (they did not stop studies in evacuation). I entered the second course. Later together with my College we moved to Novosibirsk, and then (already almost at the end of war) returned to Leningrad. We celebrated Victory Day already in Leningrad.

After the war

Our apartment appeared to be occupied, that was why they placed at my disposal only one room there. And I told you already that our apartment was awful: very damp, moisture oozed directly from walls. Suddenly I was suggested to move to another room in our house, but on the second floor. The room was very sunny. It was about 7 square meters, very long, like a gut. So I moved there. In my tiny room there lived my friends (whose living conditions were even worse than that of mine) from the College, and later from the Theatre. I continued to study. I graduated from the College in 1949 and started working in the Theatre for Young Spectators. A. Bryantsev was its director. [Alexander Bryantsev (1883-1961) - founder, actor, and director of the Theater for Young Spectators.] He was a remarkable person, talented and brave. I’ll tell you about his courage a little bit later. In the Theatre for Young Spectators I worked about 27 years. That period was very happy for me. A. Raykin himself invited me to his theater. [Arkady Raykin (1911-1987) - a famous Russian actor, master of dramatic identification, a compere, performer of monologues, feuilletons, sketches.] But I could not leave Bryantsev. I admired him. He used to bring to perfection even the most insignificant role in a crowd scene. He made no distinction between actors; all of them were equally dear and interesting to him. Here I’ll tell you a story, which shows his character much better than my words. In the Theatre for Young Spectators there were 2 remarkable actors: Teykh and Freindlich. They were Germans. And during the war the Theatre was in evacuation. At the end of the war Leningrad theatres began to come back from evacuation. But the Theatre for Young Spectators was not allowed to come back. Authorities said that its staff could come, but without Teykh and Freindlich: after the end of the war Leningrad needed no Germans. But Bryantsev himself went to Moscow. Here you have to take into consideration that it was rather dangerous to intercede for Germans at that time! I do not know what higher echelons Bryantsev visited in Moscow, what words he found, but the Theatre was allowed to return to its native city. To tell the truth, Friendlich immediately left for Alexandrinsky Theatre, expressing no thanks to Bryantsev. The point was that Alexandrinsky Theatre had academic status and salaries were higher there. But Teykh said ‘While Bryantsev is alive, I will not leave his theatre.’

After that I taught callisthenics at courses for coaches. Later I worked at a House of Culture teaching dancing. [Houses of culture in the USSR were large establishments with various forms of cultural and educational activities: exhibitions, dancing parties, various circles and studios.] I do not work only 5 years. My last place of work was at school no.214 11. I worked there 8 years as an elocutionist, conducting a studio. I guess that the main result I achieved there was attraction of my pupils to good literature, to verses. They won different competitions, traveled all over Russia free-of-charge. Five of them visit me until now. Each time they tell me so kind words that I feel uncomfortable to repeat them. But they also say sad things:  their intelligence and love to verses differs them from their coevals very much, people call them rara avis. And I answer that they can be proud of such a title. I think that this kind of people will possibly help to rise all educated people here, and they will be able to turn our life for the better.

Last two years I live in the House of Veterans of the Stage. I like everything here, but I lack activities. I have already asked managers of our House to find some children or young people whom I can teach dramatic reading.

While I worked in the Theatre, I went for vacation in recreation centers every year 12. Most often I went to the Black sea. I had the second sports category in swimming and spent hours in water!

When Stalin died, I sobbed madly. Now I am ashamed of myself. And at that time they gave me a role at the Theater (I do not remember what exactly); I only remember that it required make-up very difficult for realization. At our College they taught us basics of make-up: our teacher was Andrey Andreevich Bersenev, a remarkable expert. We often ran to him for consultation (since the Theatre was located near the College across the road). So I came to him and he helped me with that make-up. But at the end of my visit they said by the radio that Stalin had died. I burst in tears, and my make-up came to nothing. Andrey Andreevich shouted at me ‘What happened, as a matter of fact?! It doesn’t matter that someone died somewhere! You are an actress and you have a complex make-up, do not pay attention to nonsense!’ It was effective to sober me down.

I remember Doctors’ Plot very well 13. At that time I already worked at the Theatre. There was an actor of heroic type. He appeared to be a terrible Anti-Semite. Together with him we played in the play Raven by Ghocci. According to the play, I had to lie at his feet. And so, right during a rehearsal he started shouting in presence of all actors ‘It serves you right, Jews! We see what you want! You have in your head idea to destroy Russian people!’ Absolute silence established. I curled myself up into a balloon on the floor and could not raise my head. I could not understand what feelings prevailed in my heart: fear or disgust. At that moment A. Bryantsev was present there. For the first and the last time in my life I saw him losing his temper. He turned white and began to tremble. He tapped the floor with his stick. And his voice pealed louder than voice of that actor Anti-Semite ‘Never say these words at my theatre! Get out of here, get out of the theatre!’ That was the way real Russian intellectuals behaved.

Certainly I was very pleased with changes 14 in our country. If people decide for themselves what to read and what to listen, they feel like human beings. Living behind the Iron Curtain 15 is not pleasant. Now everyone can go wherever they want. It seems great, but actually it is normal. Of course our life is not easy, salaries and pensions are crummy, but I hope that everything will become normal step by step. Anyway I am glad that lived to witness the events I witnessed.

My attitude towards such events as Hungarian revolution 16, Prague spring 17 was already normal, i.e. I condemned actions of our country. Military victories of Israel [18, 19] pleased me: it seemed to me that truth and justice were on the side of Israel, not Arabs.

Falling of the Berlin wall also pleased me. [Berlin wall was erected in 1961 to divide Western part of Berlin from the Eastern one. It was destroyed in 1989. It was symbolical that its concrete was used to construct highways of the united Germany.] It is impossible to divide people of the same nationality in such a forced way.

I am connected to the Jewish community of St. Petersburg basically through the Hesed Welfare Center 20. For holidays I receive food packages from them. Thanks to them, I always have matzah for Pesach.

Glossary:

1 Russian Revolution of 1917

Revolution in which the tsarist regime was overthrown in the Russian Empire and, under Lenin, was replaced by the Bolshevik rule. The two phases of the Revolution were: February Revolution, which came about due to food and fuel shortages during World War I, and during which the tsar abdicated and a provisional government took over. The second phase took place in the form of a coup led by Lenin in October/November (October Revolution) and saw the seizure of power by the Bolsheviks

2 Pogroms in Ukraine

In the 1920s there were many anti-Semitic gangs in Ukraine. They killed Jews and burnt their houses, they robbed their houses, raped women and killed children.

3 Sholem Aleichem (pen name of Shalom Rabinovich (1859-1916)

Yiddish author and humorist, a prolific writer of novels, stories, feuilletons, critical reviews, and poem in Yiddish, Hebrew and Russian. He also contributed regularly to Yiddish dailies and weeklies. In his writings he described the life of Jews in Russia, creating a gallery of bright characters. His creative work is an alloy of humor and lyricism, accurate psychological and details of everyday life. He founded a literary Yiddish annual called Di Yidishe Folksbibliotek (The Popular Jewish Library), with which he wanted to raise the despised Yiddish literature from its mean status and at the same time to fight authors of trash literature, who dragged Yiddish literature to the lowest popular level. The first volume was a turning point in the history of modern Yiddish literature. Sholem Aleichem died in New York in 1916. His popularity increased beyond the Yiddish-speaking public after his death. Some of his writings have been translated into most European languages and his plays and dramatic versions of his stories have been performed in many countries. The dramatic version of Tevye the Dairyman became an international hit as a musical (Fiddler on the Roof) in the 1960s.

4 Rabfak (Rabochiy Fakultet – Workers’ Faculty in Russian)

Established by the Soviet power usually at colleges or universities, these were educational institutions for young people without secondary education. Many of them worked beside studying. Graduates of Rabfaks had an opportunity to enter university without exams

5 Blockade of Leningrad

On September 8, 1941 the Germans fully encircled Leningrad and its siege began. It lasted until January 27, 1944. The blockade meant incredible hardships and privations for the population of the town. Hundreds of thousands died from hunger, cold and diseases during the almost 900 days of the blockade.

6 Lenin (1870-1924)

Pseudonym of Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, the Russian Communist leader. A profound student of Marxism, and a revolutionary in the 1890s. He became the leader of the Bolshevik faction of the Social Democratic Party, whom he led to power in the coup d’état of 25th October 1917. Lenin became head of the Soviet state and retained this post until his death.

7 Dostoevsky, Fyodor (1821-1881)

Russian novelist, journalist and short-story writer whose psychological penetration into the human soul had a profound influence on the 20th century novel. His novels anticipated many of the ideas of Nietzsche and Freud. Dostoevsky’s novels contain many autobiographical elements, but ultimately they deal with moral and philosophical issues. He presented interacting characters with contrasting views or ideas about freedom of choice, socialism, atheisms, good and evil, happiness and so forth

8 Mandatory job assignment in the USSR

Graduates of higher educational institutions had to complete a mandatory 2-year job assignment issued by the institution from which they graduated. After finishing this assignment young people were allowed to get employment at their discretion in any town or organization

9 Great Patriotic War

On 22nd June 1941 at 5 o’clock in the morning Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union without declaring war. This was the beginning of the so-called Great Patriotic War. The German blitzkrieg, known as Operation Barbarossa, nearly succeeded in breaking the Soviet Union in the months that followed. Caught unprepared, the Soviet forces lost whole armies and vast quantities of equipment to the German onslaught in the first weeks of the war. By November 1941 the German army had seized the Ukrainian Republic, besieged Leningrad, the Soviet Union's second largest city, and threatened Moscow itself. The war ended for the Soviet Union on 9th May 1945.

10 Molotov, V

P. (1890-1986): Statesman and member of the Communist Party leadership. From 1939, Minister of Foreign Affairs. On June 22, 1941 he announced the German attack on the USSR on the radio. He and Eden also worked out the percentages agreement after the war, about Soviet and western spheres of influence in the new Europe.

11 School #

Schools had numbers and not names. It was part of the policy of the state. They were all state schools and were all supposed to be identical.

12 Recreation Centers in the USSR

trade unions of many enterprises and public organizations in the USSR constructed recreation centers, rest homes, and children’s health improvement centers, where employees could take a vacation paying 10 percent of the actual total cost of such stays. In theory each employee could take one such vacation per year, but in reality there were no sufficient numbers of vouchers for such vacations, and they were mostly available only for the management.

13 Doctors’ Plot

The Doctors’ Plot was an alleged conspiracy of a group of Moscow doctors to murder leading government and party officials. In January 1953, the Soviet press reported that nine doctors, six of whom were Jewish, had been arrested and confessed their guilt. As Stalin died in March 1953, the trial never took place. The official paper of the Party, the Pravda, later announced that the charges against the doctors were false and their confessions obtained by torture. This case was one of the worst anti-Semitic incidents during Stalin’s reign. In his secret speech at the Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 Khrushchev stated that Stalin wanted to use the Plot to purge the top Soviet leadership.

14 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

Soviet economic and social policy of the late 1980s, associated with the name of Soviet politician Mikhail Gorbachev. The term designated the attempts to transform the stagnant, inefficient command economy of the Soviet Union into a decentralized, market-oriented economy. Industrial managers and local government and party officials were granted greater autonomy, and open elections were introduced in an attempt to democratize the Communist Party organization. By 1991, perestroika was declining and was soon eclipsed by the dissolution of the USSR.

15 Iron Curtain

A term popularized by Sir Winston Churchill in a speech in 1946. He used it to designate the Soviet Union’s consolidation of its grip over Eastern Europe. The phrase denoted the separation of East and West during the Cold War, which placed the totalitarian states of the Soviet bloc behind an ‘Iron Curtain’. The fall of the Iron Curtain corresponds to the period of perestroika in the former Soviet Union, the reunification of Germany, and the democratization of Eastern Europe beginning in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

16 1956

It designates the Revolution, which started on 23rd October 1956 against Soviet rule and the communists in Hungary. It was started by student and worker demonstrations in Budapest started in which Stalin’s gigantic statue was destroyed. Moderate communist leader Imre Nagy was appointed as prime minister and he promised reform and democratization. The Soviet Union withdrew its troops which had been stationing in Hungary since the end of World War II, but they returned after Nagy’s announcement that Hungary would pull out of the Warsaw Pact to pursue a policy of neutrality. The Soviet army put an end to the rising on 4th November and mass repression and arrests started. About 200,000 Hungarians fled from the country. Nagy, and a number of his supporters were executed. Until 1989, the fall of the communist regime, the Revolution of 1956 was officially considered a counter-revolution.

17 Prague Spring

The term Prague Spring designates the liberalization period in communist-ruled Czechoslovakia between 1967-1969. In 1967 Alexander Dubcek became the head of the Czech Communist Party and promoted ideas of ‘socialism with a human face’, i.e. with more personal freedom and freedom of the press, and the rehabilitation of victims of Stalinism. In August 1968 Soviet troops, along with contingents from Poland, East Germany, Hungary and Bulgaria, occupied Prague and put an end to the reforms
18 Six-Day-War: The first strikes of the Six-Day-War happened on 5th June 1967 by the israeli Air Force. The entire war only lasted 132 hours and 30 minutes. The fighting on the Egyptian side only lasted four days, while fighting on the Jordanian side lasted three. Despite the short length of the war, this was one of the most dramatic and devastating wars ever fought between Israel and all of the Arab nations. This war resulted in a depression that lasted for many years after it ended. The Six-Day-War increased tension between the Arab nations and the Western World because of the change in mentalities and political orientations of the Arab nations.
19 Yom Kippur War: The Arab-Israeli War of 1973, also known as the Yom Kippur War or the Ramadan War, was a war between Israel on one side and Egypt and Syria on the other side. It was the fourth major military confrontation between Israel and the Arab states. The war lasted for three weeks: it started on 6th October 1973 and ended on 22nd October on the Syrian front and on 26th October on the Egyptian front.

20 Hesed

Meaning care and mercy in Hebrew, Hesed stands for the charity organization founded by Amos Avgar in the early 20th century. Supported by Claims Conference and Joint Hesed helps for Jews in need to have a decent life despite hard economic conditions and encourages development of their self-identity. Hesed provides a number of services aimed at supporting the needs of all, and particularly elderly members of the society. The major social services include: work in the center facilities (information, advertisement of the center activities, foreign ties and free lease of medical equipment); services at homes (care and help at home, food products delivery, delivery of hot meals, minor repairs); work in the community (clubs, meals together, day-time polyclinic, medical and legal consultations); service for volunteers (training programs). The Hesed centers have inspired a real revolution in the Jewish life in the FSU countries. People have seen and sensed the rebirth of the Jewish traditions of humanism. Currently over eighty Hesed centers exist in the FSU countries. Their activities cover the Jewish population of over eight hundred settlements.
 

Bella Chanina

Bella Chanina
Kishinev
Moldova
Interviewer: Nathalia Fomina
Date of interview: March 2004

Bella Semyonovna Chanina is a short plump woman with a sweet round face, thick silver-gray hair that she wears in a knot. Bella Semyonovna wears trousers and loose shirts, which make her look young. She has a pleasant deep voice that becomes commanding at times. She is very fond of the public work she does. Bella Semyonovna is the mistress of ‘the Warm House.’ One can tell that she was a lively and vigorous character in her youth. Bella Semyonovna buried her husband a few months ago. She hasn’t recovered from the loss yet, and when she tells me about her life, tears often fill her eyes. Bella Semyonovna lives in a cozy two-bedroom apartment. It is furnished with 1970s furniture: a living room set, a low table and chairs. She serves me tea and a cake that she has made herself. 

My family backgrownd

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family background

My maternal grandfather, Yoil Rosenthal, was born in the 1860s and lived in Telenesti [According to the census of 1897 this shtetl had 4379 residents, 3876 were Jews], in Bessarabia 1. My grandfather had two brothers: Lazar who lived his life in Odessa [today Ukraine] and we didn’t know him, and Srul, a handsome old man with a big white beard. I knew Srul Rosenthal, he was the father of my mother’s cousin brother Zalman, my mother’s big friend. Srul had two sons: Mordko and Yakov. Mordko and his family were killed in Kalarash during the war [Great Patriotic War] 2, and Yakov disappeared at the front. Srul died in evacuation. I didn’t know grandfather Yoil; he died in 1891. We had a big photographic portrait of my grandfather on the wall: in a white shirt, a small narrow tie in the fashion of the time. He looked like an intelligent man. I don’t remember a beard, but if he had one, it was small. I can’t tell what he did for a living. When we evacuated, we left the portrait on the wall and this was his only photograph.

My grandmother Ester Rosenthal was born and grew up in Telenesti. I don’t know her maiden name, but I know that my great-grandmother’s name was Beila since I was named Bella after her. At the age of 28, Grandmother Ester became a widow with four children, the oldest of whom, Gedaliye, was eight years old and the youngest, Iosif, was just a year and a half. I remember my grandmother well. She was short, round-faced, always wearing modest dark clothes and a kerchief. She lived with us before the war and sometimes went to stay with her younger son in Soroki. My grandmother wasn’t fanatically religious, but observed all the Jewish traditions. She lit candles on Sabbath and when she was with us, before Pesach she had all our utensils and crockery koshered. And I also remember – they don’t do it now – that my grandmother placed all tableware – knives and forks, into the ground in flower pots. She probably koshered them in this manner.

My grandmother Ester believed that the sons had to study, while the daughter had to help her about the house. My mother’s older brother Gedaliye graduated from the university in Odessa. He was a mathematician before the war and worked as a director of the Jewish school in Tarutino in Bessarabia. Uncle Gedaliye was a dandy, he liked nice clothes. When he visited Kishinev, he had suits made for him here. My mother always went to fitting sessions with him; I remember he didn’t leave her alone till she gave up what she was doing to go to a tailor with him. Uncle Gedaliye and his wife Sophia had an only son, Yuliy, born in 1926.

During the war they lived in Aktyubinsk in Kazakhstan, where Yuliy studied in a railroad school. In the last months of the war Yuliy volunteered to the front without saying a word to his parents. He was at the front till the end of the war and then served until the end of the term of his service. After demobilization Yuliy finished a law school and entered the Law Faculty of Lvov University. Uncle Gedaliye died in Lvov approximately in the 1960s. His wife Sophia died at the age of 92-93, many years later. I often visited Yuliy, who lives with his family in Lvov, and we went to my uncle’s grave at the Jewish cemetery.  

The next child in the family after my mother was Mordko, who lived in Moscow. I always knew him as Max, maybe he changed his name because the previous one was too Jewish. He had a higher technical education, but I don’t know where he studied. During the Russian Revolution of 1917 3 Uncle Max lived in Tbilisi and then moved to Moscow. My mother corresponded with her brother, but he rarely wrote to her. Max worked in the Ministry of Heavy Industry, where he was chief of the planning department. During the war the Ministry stayed in Moscow and so did Uncle Max and his family. His son’s name was also Yuliy – it was a tradition in my mother’s family to call older sons by the name of Yuliy after grandfather Yoil. Uncle Max died in 1969. Yuliy died in the 1980s, and his wife Nyusia lives with the family of their daughter Bella in Jerusalem. I’m not in contact with them.

My mother’s younger brother Iosif lived in Soroki [Soroca in Moldovan] before the war and after the war he moved to Kishinev [Chisinau in Moldovan]. Uncle Iosif didn’t have a higher education. He had different jobs and in his last years he was an insurance agent. His older son Yuliy studied in the Agricultural College. In his childhood he fell seriously ill and had heart problems. Yuliy died at the age of 20, before graduation from the college. Uncle Iosif died in the 1970s, he was buried at the Jewish cemetery in Kishinev. Two younger children of Iosif, Max and Ida, and their families, moved to the USA in the early 1990s. They live in Boston.


My mother Sarah Rosenthal was born in 1887. When she was four, my grandfather died. My grandmother Ester raised her to be a future Jewish wife. My mother learned to cook and sew and knew Jewish traditions well. However, my mother was eager to study. She had a strong character and ran away from Telenesti at the age of 16. She went to study in the Jewish grammar school. After finishing it she got a certificate of a teacher. My mother moved to Tiflis, that’s what Tbilisi was called at the time, to her brothers Max and Gedaliye. I don’t remember under what circumstances they had left there. She worked as a teacher.

When she was in Tbilisi this was the period of genocide against the Armenian population in Turkey in 1915-1916. [In 1915 the Turkish government issued an order for the forced deportation of Armenians from Eastern Anatolia. About 3 mln people were subject to deportation. Only one third of them survived]. My mother told me that in Tbilisi a committee was organized to provide assistance to Armenians and she worked in this committee. She said when Armenians came to talk to her, they complained, ‘You are a Georgian and you provide more help to Georgians,’ and vice versa, when Georgians talked to her, they said, ‘You help Armenians more than Georgians.’ They never guessed that she was neither Georgian nor Armenian, but a Jew. My mother helped Georgians and Armenians equally.

In 1917 my grandmother fell ill in Telenesti. My brothers decided that one of them had to go there and of course, it was to be my mother. She went to her mother and stayed in Bessarabia. This was at the time when Bessarabia was annexed to Romania in 1918 4 and the border was closed. My mother moved to Kishinev and was a teacher of Hebrew in a lyceum for boys. 

My father’s father, Moisey Fichgendler, lived in Yampol Vinnitsa region [today Ukraine]. [Yampol was a district town of the Podolsk province. According to the census in 1897 there were 6,600 residents including 2,800 Jews.] I can’t tell what he was doing there, but some time in the 1900s the family moved to Soroki in Bessarabia, since my grandfather couldn’t find a job in his town. I remember my grandfather Moisey. When I was born, he and Grandmother lived in Kishinev. My grandfather was a very modest quiet man with a gray beard. He always wore a yarmulka [kippah]. My grandmother was short, busy and sweet. She always wore dark clothes and covered her head. They lived in the lower town, the poorest part of Kishinev. I remember dimly their small apartment, very modest, two small rooms, and the front door led directly to one of the rooms.

My grandmother and grandfather were religious, but I don’t remember them going to the Choral synagogue [the largest synagogue in Kishinev, where besides the cantor there was also a choir], where my parents went. They probably went to a smaller synagogue. My grandfather died in Kishinev in 1930. He was buried according to Jewish traditions, wrapped in a takhrikhim, and there were candles on the floor. I was seven years old, and remember his funeral well. After my grandfather died, my grandmother Rosa moved to her younger son Boris in Soroki. During the war Grandmother Rosa and Boris’ wife were taken to a ghetto somewhere in Ukraine. They were killed there in 1941 or 1942.

My father had three brothers. I don’t know the names of two of them. One of them moved to America in 1910 and the second one drowned in the Dniestr at the age of about 20. My mother told me about it. I only knew my father’s younger brother Boris. After the war he lived in Beltsy. Boris was a worker at a plant. He remarried after his wife’s death in the ghetto. I met his second wife, with whom he lived after the war. They had no children. They visited us occasionally. They’ve both passed away.

My father Semyon Fichgendler was born in Yampol in 1888. When he was ten or twelve, his family moved to Soroki. I don’t know where my father studied, but he knew Russian and Yiddish well. He probably finished an agricultural school. He was an agronomist, a vine grower. I don’t know exactly, when he moved to Kishinev, but in the 1910s he was working in a Jewish children’s home in Bayukany, a district in Kishinev. Boys were kept in the children’s home till they reached the age of 14. My father was an agronomist, teaching the boys gardening. He lived in a small room in this home. After my father died, one of his pupils wrote to me, telling me how my father accommodated him in his room in 1912, when the boy had to leave the children’s home. He shared food with him and took him to work in surrounding villages and helped him to stand on his own feet in life.

My father was known for his qualifications beyond Bessarabia. Landowners offered him to work for them. My father told me that he got to know by chance what one of them wrote in a letter of recommendation for my father: ‘You know how much I dislike Jews, but I do recommend you to employ Fichgendler, he is a wonderful specialist.’ I know that my father was having problems with obtaining the Romanian citizenship since he wasn’t born in Bessarabia. We had a document that I gave to the museum, a special verdict of the court about granting the Romanian citizenship to my father.

My parents met in Kishinev, but I don’t know any details. We never discussed this subject. When my mother was his fiancée, my father bought her a French enamel brooch. It has been miraculously preserved till now. I don’t know, maybe my mother had it on her clothing, when they evacuated. Now this brooch is a rarity, but I don’t dare to sell it, though I need money very much. My parents got married in 1922.

Growing up

I was born in the Jewish hospital in Kishinev in 1923, and was registered in the rabbinate book. When after the war I needed to obtain a birth certificate since the original was lost, they found the roster of 1923 at the synagogue and found an entry about my birth there. Following the family tradition, my mother wanted to name me Yulia after her father, but the others talked her out of it: ‘What if you have a boy one day.’

When I was small we often changed apartments. Probably, my parents were looking for a cheaper one. I know the addresses, but the last apartment before the war was on 8, Teatralnaya Street, two blocks from the central street. We lived in a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor: one bigger room – a dining room, and a smaller room – my parents’ bedroom. I slept on a couch in the dining room behind a screen. There was a bookcase with books in the dining room. We didn’t have fiction, but my father had a big collection of books on vine growing, mainly in Russian. During the war this collection was gone. Later I often found his books – they had his facsimiles – in the house of agronomists in Kishinev, but I don’t know who brought them there. There was also a big desk in the dining room, but I did my homework in my parents’ bedroom, where they had a small table. There was also a small hallway and a kitchen in the apartment. My mother cooked on a primus stove.

Our family was rather poor. I remember that my mother had one fancy dress of black silk, very plainly cut. I don’t remember my parents going to the theater, but they were often invited to charity parties arranged by the Jewish community. My mother wore her only fancy dress and pinned her brooch on it. If she lost weight she draped the dress on her side and pinned it with this same brooch. My mother was beautiful, had expressive black eyes and always looked nice in her outfit. Men couldn’t help liking my mother, but my mother was not soft. She was strict and imperious. My mother knew Russian literature well and read a lot in Russian. When guests came she liked to recite poems by Lermontov 5: ‘Tell me, the branch of Palestine, where you have grown. Where have you bloomed? What hills, what valley have you adorned?’

My father was soft and kind. He traveled to surrounding villages on business a lot. I remember that when he came home, he always had rakhat-lukum [Turkish delight] for me. I adored it. At times it was very hard from being stored for a long time, but my father just had to give me my favorite sweets and I have bright memories about it.

My father had an acquaintance who was an agronomist. His name was Fyodor Fyodorovich Pozhoga, he was Russian. He lived in the upper town in a cottage with a big yard where he grew flowers. On my birthday at dawn my father brought me bunches of flowers from there. When I got up in the morning I didn’t know to what corner to look first. There were flowers in vases on the floor and in vessels all over the room. I was born in June, when there are always many flowers.

I invited my friends from school to my birthday and my mother arranged a party for us. The hit of the parties was ice-cream. My mother borrowed an ice-cream maker. I remember a metal cylinder with another one inside and there was ice to be placed between them. Then it was necessary to turn the handle of the inner cylinder for a long time to make ice-cream. My mother made it in advance and put it on ice in the cellar in the yard. Once my dear Papa, who also had a sweet tooth like me, took a spoon going somewhere in the yard. Mama asked him where he was going and he said, ‘I’m going to taste the ice-cream.’

My mother cooked dishes of the Jewish cuisine: chicken broth with kneydlakh, sweet and sour meat and gefilte fish on holidays. My mother made noodles, cut and dried them. She was good at making pastries, but I haven’t any of her recipes left. My mother bought food at the market where she took me with her. The market in Kishinev was very picturesque. I particularly remember the rows with fish. The counters were plated with tin sheets. The vendors often wiped them and they shone in the sun and were very clean. We always bought lots of vegetables: tomatoes, red paprika and eggplants. My mother preserved tomatoes for winter. She had her own method to make preserves in bottles. My mother baked egg plants, put them under a press, tore them in pieces and placed them in a bottle. When the bottle was full she corked it, put the bottles in a big washing pan to sterilize them. She also made tomato preserves in bottles, adding aspirin to them. She also made gogoshari [a popular sort of sweet red paprika in Moldova]: she baked them, removed the thin transparent peel, placed them in a clay pot and added sunflower oil. She kept it in the cellar during the winter and the oil turned red and spicy and my mother used it in her cooking. We also ate lots of water melons. We usually bought a few dozens of them. The vendors delivered them to or home. My mother bought chickens and took them to a shochet to slaughter. My mother bought dairy products from certain vendors. Of course, we followed the kashrut at home.

My parents always celebrated Jewish holidays. I remember well that on holidays my father put on his black suit and went to the Choral synagogue, the biggest synagogue in Kishinev, with my mother. My father had a small tallit that he put on on holidays. Sometimes they took me with them. I sat on the balcony with my mother. The synagogue was very beautiful and there were many people in it. The rabbi of the Choral synagogue, Izhak Zirelson, was a public activist. He was a deputy to the Romanian Parliament. I saw him, but I don’t remember what he looked like. Zirelson perished in the first days of the war. They said, a bomb hit his apartment. I also remember that there was a very good cantor at the Choral synagogue.

On Pesach we visited Grandfather Moisey and Grandmother Rosa, my father’s parents. There was only our family there, no other visitors. My mother was the best connoisseur of Jewish traditions in the family. She conducted the seder. We reclined on cushions at the table. There were traditional dishes and wine on the table. Everybody had a wine glass and there was one for Elijah ha-nevi, the Prophet. My mother opened the door for him to come in. I am not sure, but I think it was I who asked di fir kashes [the four questions], there were no boys. My mother put away the afikoman, a piece of matzah, and I had to steal it unnoticed. 

On Rosh Hashanah my parents also went to the synagogue, and then we had a celebration. I remember apples and honey. On Yom Kippur we fasted and spent a whole day at the synagogue.

On Chanukkah I had a dreidl, beautiful, painted all over and big. I used to play with it for hours, sitting on the floor. My mother made doughnuts, sufganim. However, I don’t remember being given any money. I also remember how my mother lit another candle every day on Chanukkah. On Purim my mother made hamantashen, triangle little pies with delicious filling.

We didn’t have guests often. My parents were friends with the director of the children’s home, Kholonay. He was a doctor and his wife was a housewife. We often visited them. They had old dark wood furniture and very beautiful crockery at home. There were no children at their home. Perhaps, their children were away – Kholonay was much older than my father. We also kept in touch with our numerous relatives in Kishinev. The parents of Sophia, Uncle Gedaliye’s wife, lived on Kharlampievskaya Street. My mother often visited these old people. The parents of my uncle Iosif’s wife from Soroki also lived in Kishinev. But my mother’s closest relative was her cousin Zalman Rosenthal, the son of Srul Rosenthal, my grandfather Yoil’s brother.

Zalman was born in Telenesti in 1889. He was educated at home, gave private classes of Hebrew, worked in a pharmacy. Then he finished a grammar school in Odessa, as an external student. In 1923 he started to work as an editor with the daily Yiddish Zionist newspaper ‘Undzere Tsayt’ [Yiddish for ‘Our Time’] in Kishinev. Uncle Zalman was a Zionist. My mother and he often talked about politics and I often heard the name of Jabotinsky 6, it didn’t mean anything to me at the time. Zalman went to Palestine and bought a plot of land there. He wanted to move there, but his wife was against it. In March 1938 the Romanian government closed ‘Undzere Tsayt.’ In 1939 he went to work in the Zionist organization Keren Kayemet 7 in Kishinev as an instructor for collecting funds. When in 1940 Bessarabia was annexed to the USSR 8, he was arrested on the charges of Zionism and exiled farther than Arkhangelsk [today Russia] in the North.

I remember well the Kishinev of my childhood - lying out like a chess board: you could see the end of a street lined with trees, when you were standing at its beginning. The central Alexandrovskaya Street sort of divided the town into two parts: the wealthier upper part and the lower poorer town, closer to the Byk River. There were wealthy houses and apartments in the upper town: the rich Jews Kogan, Shor, Klinger lived there. There were many shops on Alexandrovkaya Street owned by Jews. I don’t remember whether they were open on Sabbath. I remember the jewelry and watch shop of the Jew Nemirovskiy. His two sons, young handsome men, worked in the store. When I turned 13, my parents said they didn’t have money to organize a party for me, but that we would buy me a watch. They bought me a wristwatch at the Nemirovskiy shop that served me many years. After the war Nemirovskiy’s older son worked as a watch repair-man in the Kishinev service center. He was excellently good and I took my watch to him for repair. He remembered me since I was a girl.

I went to a Romanian school at the age of six and then went to study in the lyceum for girls. When my grandmother lived with us, we spoke Yiddish at home and when my grandmother was not with us, we spoke Russian. Since my mother was a Hebrew teacher in the 1920s, she tried several times to teach me Hebrew, but I didn’t move farther than ‘Alef, beth’ [Hebrew Alphabet]. My mother was very strict about my studies at school. She even asked the teacher to be strict with me. I remember that I wasn’t happy about it. My mother taught me to recite poems and I performed at school concerts, but on the condition that she left the hall, or I got confused, feeling her strict look on me. We all wore black uniform robes of the same length. We lined up and the teacher measured the length with a ruler – they had to be 30 cm sharp from the floor. There were white collars and aprons, black nets to hold hair and a black velvet ribbon on the neck. There were Jewish, Moldovan and Russian girls in the lyceum. There was no anti-Semitism.

My closest friend Bertha Geiman was a Jew. I remember our class tutor reprimanding Bertha: ‘You and Fichgendler are friends. Why don’t you study as well as she does?’ A tragedy happened in Bertha’s family. Her older brother, a grammar school student, fell on the skating rink and hit his head. He must have had a concussion, but he didn’t pay attention to it. That same evening he went to a party where he felt ill and died. Bertha’s mother was grieving a lot after her 15-year-old son. She went to the cemetery almost every day. When the war began and there was the issue of evacuation, she said, ‘I shall not leave my son’s grave, I shall stay here.’ When I returned from the evacuation in 1944 I ran to Bertha’s house in the upper town. Their neighbors told me that Bertha and her mother were shot in 1941, at the beginning of occupation, during the mass action.

I was good at all subjects at school, but my favorite teacher was the teacher of Geography, whose surname was Mita. Mita is a ‘cat’ in Moldovan. She was a beautiful tall brunette. Somehow I remember the class where we studied the USSR. I was always interested in the USSR, since my mother’s brother Max lived in Moscow. She told us, ‘Imagine moving into a new apartment. Of course, your apartment is a mess, but gradually everything gets in order: furniture pieces, things and carpets. Of course, there was no order in the USSR after the revolution, but gradually things will be getting in order and it will be all right.’ She talked about it almost sympathetically.

There was a tradition in Kishinev grammar schools. 100 days before finishing school a class from the girls school made arrangements to celebrate this with a class from a grammar school for boys at somebody’s apartment. We called it a ‘100-day party’. In 1940 our class celebrated this ‘100-day party’ with students of the commercial school for boys on Mogilyovskaya Street. We danced, sang and got photographed. I don’t have a photograph of this party. After the war I met some people who attended this party in the streets of Kishinev. After finishing the lyceum I wanted to continue my education. Jews usually went to get higher education abroad: in France, Germany, Italy. There was only the Religious Faculty of Iasi University and Agricultural College in Kishinev, but my parents didn’t have money to send me abroad. What were we to do? There was no answer to this question. 

At that time Bessarabia was annexed to the USSR. I remember well this summer day [June 28th 1940]. We lived almost in the center. I plated red ribbons in my hair and went to Alexandrovskaya Street in the afternoon. The town was empty. I returned home. Later that afternoon I went out again. Somebody was making a speech from the balcony of the town hall, but I don’t remember what he said. There were few people and it was quiet. Later there came rumors that wealthier people were deported. Once, somebody knocked on our door at dawn. I opened the door and saw a young man wearing a summer shirt. He said the name of our neighbors. I showed him the door and ran to the window in the kitchen. It was high and I stood on the table to see what was going on in the yard. There was a truck and our neighbors were loading their things on it. They had everything well packed. Then they boarded the truck with NKVD 9 officers. They returned a few years after the war.

This summer I entered the Faculty of vine growing and wine making of the Agricultural College in Kishinev. My father wanted me to become a doctor, but there was no Medical College in Kishinev, and to send me, their only and beloved daughter to Uncle Max in Moscow was too much for them. There were Russian and Romanian groups in college. I went to the Romanian group. I became a Komsomol 10 member in the college. I knew a lot about my future profession from my father and I liked studying. I finished the first year.

During the war

In summer 1941 Germany attacked the USSR. We knew that Germans were killing Jews and many Jews were leaving Kishinev. Only those who had illusions regarding Germans and Romanians were staying. The sovkhoz 11 where my father was working provided horse-drawn wagons to Jews. My father was told we were expected in a sovkhoz in Kakhovka district, Kherson region [today Ukraine]. My mother, my father, Grandmother Ester and I left in the direction of Dubossary. We left the key to our apartment on the shelf by the door, as usual. We didn’t think we would be gone for long. We reached the town of Kriulyany on the Dniestr. The bridge across the river was destroyed and the army troops were making a bridge of boats before nighttime. There were many people and equipment on the bank. The army troops were the first to pass. At dawn the bridge was removed for the day. Our turn was on the third night. We reached the eastern bank in complete darkness. We didn’t know where to go and turned left. All of a sudden a silhouette of a soldier emerged before us. I can still see it: a short thin soldier with a rifle, its bayonet sticking over his head: ‘Where are you going, there are Germans there!’ He made us turn around. Wouldn’t one believe in miracles after this? If he hadn’t turned us around, we would have gone directly to the Germans.

We moved to the East for two weeks. We stopped to take a rest in the town of Voznesensk. My parents had a discussion and decided that my father would go to the sovkhoz in Kherson region, and my mother, grandmother and I would go to Uncle Max in Moscow. My father left on the sovkhoz wagon. My mother wasn’t feeling well and needed some medications. The owners of the house, where we were staying, told me the way to the pharmacy in the main street. Round the corner there was a steep descent to a bridge across the Bug River. I looked at the bridge, bought the medication and went back. On the next day the front advanced so much that we had to take a prompt leave. The owners of the house were evacuating with their office and couldn’t take us with them. My mother ran about the town the whole day, trying to obtain a permit to board the ship with a hospital on it. She finally got one, but the chief of the hospital said, ‘I can take you and your daughter and you will work for us, but I cannot take the old lady – we shall need this place for a patient.’ My mother refused to go – we couldn’t really leave my grandmother.

An evening and then night fell. Demolition bombs began to be dropped on Voznesensk. We left the house and were walking along the central street without knowing where to. There was a truck with some soldiers moving in the opposite direction to where we were going. The driver asked us from the cabin: ‘Where is a bridge?’ How fortunate that I knew where the bridge was! ‘Take us with you and I will show you the way!’ They pulled Grandmother in by her hands and my mother and I got in. Near the pharmacy I pointed to the right. We crossed the bridge and drove up the steep bank, when we heard an explosion. We turned back and saw the bridge burning. At dawn we had to get off – they couldn’t allow us to stay in the truck – they had ammunition in it. I remember that the soldiers offered us bread and something else, but we refused and didn’t take anything. We were too shocked by everything. We got to Novaya Odessa [Nikolaev Region] walking on the dusty road in the unbearable heat. I was exhausted and remember lying down by a clay fence. Military trucks were driving by, we were trying to stop one, but they didn’t stop until finally somebody picked us up. They drove us to Melitopol, where we met a middle-aged Jewish man. When he heard we were from Kishinev he took us to his house. He turned out to be the director of the town bookstore. He had a comfortable apartment and his wife treated us to a meal.  

We decided to go to Rostov [today Russia], where our good acquaintance Fyodor Nikitich Tifanyuk, director of the Champagne factory, had evacuated with his enterprise. We got to Donetsk in a train with other refugees and from there we went to Rostov. Fyodor Nikitich helped us to get a job in the Reconstructor vine growing sovkhoz in Aksaysk district near Rostov. They gave us a little clean room, my mother and I went to gather crops of grapes and my grandmother stayed at home. It was the beginning of September. One day, when my mother and I came to lunch, we were told that somebody from the factory in Rostov called us and told us to go there immediately. We went to Rostov with Grandmother. How happy we were, when Fyodor Nikitich gave us a card from my father! My father wrote to him that he was in the village of Grigoropolisskaya in Alexandrovsk district, Stavropol region, and that he had lost his family. Fyodor Nikitich gave us money for the road and we went to Papa.

Papa had lost hope to see us and was so depressed when he came to the village that he didn’t tell them that he was an agronomist and was handling sacks on the threshing floor. Later he got a job as an agronomist and earned more money, so we managed to save a little. We needed winter clothes. Winter was coming and we had lost all our clothes that we took from Kishinev. One morning my mother left for Armavir, located on the other end of Kuban. My mother went to the market there and in the evening she returned with her purchases. She bought a dark blue coat with a rabbit collar, a big size soldier’s gray overcoat and some other clothing. We made the overcoat shorter and I wore it for many years after we returned to Kishinev from evacuation. From the remaining cloth I made a sleeveless vest and knitted sleeves to it.

When they heard in the village that I had studied at the Agricultural College for a year, they offered me a job as an agronomist in a neighboring village. I agreed. The chairman of the kolkhoz drove me to the field. He explained, ‘These are winter crops, this is a stubble field.’ I had no idea what this was all about. To cut a long story short: I returned to my parents and stayed there quietly. In Grigoropolisskaya I took three months’ training for combine operators at the Mechanic School, and after finishing it I began to work in the equipment yard. It was a cold winter. Huge sheds with tractors and combines. There were hardly any tools, but grips and files sticking to hands from the cold. I wrote a letter to the Ministry of Higher Education asking them where our college was evacuated. It was just incidental that the director of our college, Nikolay Vasilievich Nechaev, was chief of the department of agricultural college at the ministry at that time. I received their prompt response that my college had evacuated to Frunze [today Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan] and that if I wanted to continue my studies there, they would send me money for the ticket. They sent us money for the whole family. This was July 1942. The front line was approaching our village and German troops were on our tails when we reached Mineralnyye Vody and then Baku [today Azerbaijan]. From Baku we went to Krasnovodsk [today Turkmenbashi in Turkmenistan] across the Caspian Sea and from there we took a train to Frunze.

In Frunze we rented a corner in a room from one family. My father worked as an agronomist in the trade department. I was in my second year of college and my mother didn’t work. Uncle Max came by to take Grandmother to Moscow with him. In Frunze we received bread per bread cards 12. My mother had a card of a dependent and I had a student’s card. My father supported us: he went on business trips to sovkhozes that had bakeries. My father used to bring us bread. I remember it – flat gray loves of bread. Once my mother bumped into Uncle Zalman Rosenthal’s father-in-law, sitting on a bench in a park. It turned out that Zalman’s wife Betia, their daughters Tsyta and Musia were also in Frunze. Betia told my mother that Zalman was still in the camp. The girls studied music and often came to where we lived on their way from music classes. My mother always gave them at least a piece of bread. Of course, we didn’t observe Jewish traditions when in Frunze. We were starving and following the kashrut was out of the question.

On vacations students were sent to the construction of the Chuiskiy channel [one of the irrigational channels in Kyrgyzstan]. There was a lack of drinking water and we licked the water dripping between the slabs of the walls of the channel. As a result, many students fell ill with enteric fever. I also contracted it. I was taken to Frunze, where my mother brought me to recovery. I was young and wanted something nice to wear. I made a dress from bandage strips sewing one to another. Then I colored it with ink. I also made summer shoes. We bought rubber pieces at the market and I made soles and sewed some canvas on them. However, I couldn’t do anything of this kind now – I wouldn’t remember how. In fall there was a celebration of the 25th anniversary of the college. ‘What do I wear?’ I thought. My mother removed a silk lining from her coat that she had from Kishinev and made me a dress. She decorated it with lace from a night slip and a lace collar. I felt like a queen in this dress!

Soviet troops liberated Kishinev on 24th August 1944. I returned to my hometown with my college before my parents came there. We were accommodated in a hostel and first thing in the morning I ran to our yard. Our apartment was half-ruined, there was no furniture left. I climbed the ruins, imagined the dining room and the bedroom. Where there was a cupboard I found broken pieces of our dinner set, with purple flowers. I found my baby bathtub with a missing bottom and an old kettle. My mother and father returned a few months later, receiving a letter of invitation from Fyodor Nikitich Tikhanyuk. Papa went to work at his Champagne factory. We stayed in the ruins of our house, gradually fixing the roof and building up the walls. The town authorities reimbursed our expenses for the restoration of our house in part. For a long time there were no comforts [toilet and bathroom] in this apartment. Only many years later water piping was installed to supply water.

After the war

In the late 1940s Grandmother returned to Kishinev from Moscow. She was missing Moldova. She died in 1950. We buried my grandmother at the Jewish cemetery, and, as required, she was wrapped in a takhrikhim. My mother didn’t allow me to go to the cemetery: those whose parents are living should not go to the cemetery. I remember my mother grieving: ‘How far away we buried Granny. Oyfn barg’ [‘To grief’ in Yiddish]. There was a flat area and then a slope in the cemetery. Nowadays my Granny’s grave is by the entrance to the cemetery, since the former area of the cemetery was given to a park in the 1960s.

Our classes in college began in the winter of 1944. In spring we went to have training in the college yard in Bykovets station of Kalarash district. On 9th May we, girls, worked in the vineyard and the guys were in the field, when border guards came by riding their horses: ‘Girls, the war is over!’ Of course, we dropped what we were doing and went to the hostel in the village. On our way there, we picked bunches of field flowers that we took to our room! When the guys returned to the hostel after work and saw this beauty they couldn’t understand for a long time what happened, till we told them that the war was over. I remember an employee of this yard brought us a bucket of wine to celebrate the victory.

After finishing the college I received a diploma of a vine grower and wine maker. The dean of our faculty, a renowned wine maker in Moldova, Ivan Isidorovich Cherep, offered me to be a lab assistant at the department. It didn’t seem interesting to me and I still regret it. I went to work in the Winemaking Industry Department. In 1950 there were incredible crops of grapes. It was really disastrous, there were not enough boxes, fuel for transportation, barrels and big containers for wine. All department employees were sent to sovkhozes to help them resolve problems. I was in Kamenka. Once I went to the chief of our department in Kishinev and said to him that I wouldn’t leave till he gives a direction for me to get fuel. All of a sudden, a tall swarthy man with an aquiline nose stepped into the office from the balcony. He was wearing a tight-neck jacket and high boots, imitating Stalin’s style like many bosses did at the time. He must have heard our discussion. ‘Give her as much as she needs’ – he directed.

It turned out later that this was the chief of the Department of Wine Industry from Moscow, Azarashvili, a Georgian man. During that visit of his he made tours to all wineries, including my father’s. He liked what my father was doing and they became friends and Azarashvili visited us at home. He suggested that I should go to postgraduate studies in the Agricultural Academy in Moscow. I found this idea attractive and submitted my documents to the institution, but they refused without any explanation, but in those years it was clear that the reason was my nationality. This was when the campaign against cosmopolitans 13 began. I remember the much ado about the ‘Doctors’ Plot’ 14. It didn’t touch upon me directly, but I remember meetings at work with ridiculous accusations against Jewish doctors. Everything ended with Stalin’s death [1953]. So many people around were crying, but I kept silent. I didn’t go hysterical. In my heart I was hoping for changes.

After Stalin died uncle Zalman returned from a labor camp 15 in 1954. He had been kept there for 14 years and returned a broken ill man. He wasn’t released, but sent to reside in Kishinev, which meant that he had to make his appearance in the KGB office 16 in Kishinev every week. His wife and daughters finally saw him. Zalman went to work at the Aurika garment factory in the suburb of Kishinev. The former editor began to stamp tags for garment products. At one o’clock on Sunday he came for lunch with us. I remember that he sat beside Mama. One Sunday he didn’t come. This was unusual to us. What happened? We went to see him. He was staying in bed. He had had a stroke. Two days later he died. This happened in 1959. Zalman Rosenthal has never been rehabilitated 17. His older daughter Tsyta lives in Germany now, in Aachen, his younger daughter Musia lives in Jerusalem, Israel.  

I met my future husband Grigoriy Chanin at work. Shortly afterwards he invited me to the cinema. I took a colleague of mine there. We began to meet. He courted me for over a year. I introduced him to my parents. His parents had died before that. His mother, Sophia Chanina, died in 1946 from diabetes at the age of 56; his father, Wolf Chanin, who was a commercial man before the war, and a pensioner after the war, died in 1957. His sister, Nora Borenstein, was the first of his family whom he introduced me to. Nora and her family, her husband Izia and their son Slavik treated me like their own. Our friendship lasted for many years till they moved to New York, USA, in the early 1990s, where Nora died in the late 1990s. Izia danced wonderfully, and I loved dancing with him on our family gatherings. Grigoriy’s sister Rosa was an accountant. She died in the 1980s. Her daughter Rina and her family live in Israel. There were two brothers living in Kishinev: Rivik, who died in 1966, and Alexandr who moved to USA with his son’s family in the 1990s. He died there in 2003.

In 1958 Grigoriy and I got married. There were no big wedding parties in those years. Everything was quiet. We had a small wedding dinner with our relatives: his and mine. Grigoriy was five years older than me. He was born in Kishinev in 1918. When the war began, his parents, sisters and he evacuated. On the way he was mobilized to the Soviet Army. He took his first baptism of fire during the defense of Zaporozhiye. There was a power plant, the dam was blasted and the Dnieper flooded the town. Grigoriy couldn’t swim and many others couldn’t either. The water was neck deep and they were grabbing tree branches to survive. Grigoriy was wounded in battles for Zaporozhiye and sent to a hospital in Armavir. After recovery he participated in the Stalingrad battle, then he finished a school of intelligence studies and received the rank of lieutenant. Along with other Soviet officers who knew Romanian, Grigoriy was sent to the Romanian units formed in the USSR at the end of the war to fight against Fascist Germany. They were instructors to Romanian officers. He fought till the end of the war. When victory came, he was in Hungary. After the war he served in the registry office in Vadul lui-Voda district and demobilized from there. Grigoriy started work and entered the evening department of Kishinev Polytechnic College, the Faculty of Economics. When we got married, Grigoriy was finishing the college. I was helping him, went to exams to write notes for him. I also helped him to write his diploma thesis. Our room was full of sheets of paper all around, that were sections of his diploma thesis. He even placed them on the floor and to walk in the room I had to maneuver between them.

We lived with my parents. After my father retired, he received a plot of land out of town: one and a half rows of vines. He was growing grapes, tomatoes, cucumbers, anything one could imagine. My husband and I went to help him. Grigoriy made a kolyba [Moldovan] hut for Papa from some planks to serve as a sun shelter. There was another pensioner working on the adjoining plot of land, from the Caucasus, either a Chechen or an Ingush, a very strong old man. They became friends. The neighbor watched my father working and followed his example in everything. He admired him: ‘he is a magician.’ My father always had good crops of grapes, and he sold some. One year he bought me a golden watch for the money that he made selling grapes; I still wear it in the memory of my father. My father always liked spoiling me.

After the first heart attack in 1966, my father grew weak and suffered from this very much. Once I came home from work: he was lying down crying. ‘I can’t work and if I don’t work, I will rot.’ But he always had an amazing memory. My mother helped me about the house. She also did the cooking. She died in June 1971. My father asked me to have her grave not too far in the cemetery so that he could go there. Actually, he didn’t have much time left. He died in 1973. They were buried near one another at the Jewish cemetery, but not according to Jewish traditions. I didn’t observe the traditional Jewish mourning, when they sit on the floor for seven days. I just wore black clothes.

From the mid-1950s I began to work in the Republican Statistical Department. In 1963 I was appointed chief of the Department of Agricultural Statistics. Jews weren’t given such positions usually. Chief of Department Ivan Matveyevich Vershinin had to obtain the approval of the Central Department of Statistics in Moscow, and of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Moldova. The Central Committee wouldn’t have approved a Jew for this position, and this was their policy. Ivan Matveyevich played a trick: he obtained approval from Moscow and they issued an order of my appointment for this position and then he notified the Central Committee of the Communist Party in Moldova of the fact. There were about 150 employees in the department, but one could count the Jews on the fingers of one hand. This was the result of state anti-Semitism. I worked in this position for 16 years till I retired. I had good records. We were a team in my department. We only had one man, Semyon Naumovich Litviak, a Jew, he worked with us till he retired. He was a very good employee. After him we didn’t employ men to our department. I thought they were not as good employees as women. The department of which I was chief was called a factory of chiefs of departments. Many of my former colleagues became chiefs of departments later. I let them quit willingly, but with a big regret.

I worked hard and often had to go on business to district towns. My husband and I tried to rest well on vacations. We went to health centers. We’ve been in Kislovodsk 18 a few times. Once, during our trip to Kislovodsk we traveled to Armavir, my husband wanted to find the hospital where he stayed during the war, but unfortunately, we failed to find the former employees of the hospital in Armavir. Like a drunkard loving to have a drink, I loved Kislovodsk. I liked walking the mountainous paths. There are specially developed routes in the mountains – a terrain course. Once, Artyom Markovich Lazarev, the former pro-rector of Kishinev University, my husband’s comrade, offered us a trip to a students’ camp on the Black Sea. We stayed in a tent at the seashore, bathed and lay in the sun, and my husband was fond of fishing. I made fish soup, but I made my best fish soup ever on the bank of the Dniestr.

Our department of statistics had a rest center on the bank of the Dniestr. Our employees and their families used to spend their weekends there. By the end of Friday our bus took all those who wanted to go there to this center. On Sunday evening this same bus brought us back. There were double rooms in the building there. In every room there were two beds, a table, chairs, a fridge and kitchen utensils – everything one might need for a good stay. There was a big kitchen with gas stoves. This was free for our employees and their families. One day in July, on the Fisherman’s Day [one of the professional holidays in the USSR], we decided to celebrate this holiday. Our men liked fishing and thought they were related to this profession. They went to a neighboring sovkhoz and brought a lot of fish from there. We decided to make fish soup for the celebration. There was a big metal container with boiled water in the kitchen. We poured this water into smaller pots. There was a little tap in the container that we removed and corked the hole. I was the chef. Our employee Masha Tatok made the rounds of the room collecting everything we needed for fish soup: greeneries, spices, laurel. A whole team of assistants scaled the fish. We took all tables to the yard to make one long table. We had fish soup for the first course and served boiled fish in garlic sauce – mujdeiin in Moldovan – for the second course. Children and adults stood in a long line waiting for their turn and I poured the fish soup into their bowls, but the funniest thing is that I didn’t even taste it. On Monday they discussed this fish soup in the corridors and in all offices for the whole day.

In 1975 my husband and I moved into a two-bedroom apartment in Ryshkanovka, a new district in Kishinev. It’s beautiful here: it’s very green and there is a big park near the house. We had many friends: my husband’s comrades and my colleagues. We often got together. We had friends of many nationalities. My husband’s comrade Petia Katan was Russian, his wife Anya was a Jew. Their daughter Luda lives in Canada now and their son lives here, in Kishinev. My friend Lilia Glushkova was Russian, we worked together since 1953. My mother used to say: ‘I like Lilia, she eats well.’ Lilia adored my mother’s little pies with cherries. Our friend Yasha Weinstein was a Jew, and his wife Mila was Russian. Mila was a doctor at the tuberculosis institute. We celebrated New Year with them. They moved to Germany in the 1990s. When Jews began to emigrate, my husband was thinking about it. It was my fault that we stayed, or I don’t know whether it was a fault at all. I was against moving away. I like this land. When my husband and I had discussions of this kind, I used to walk the streets of Kishinev gazing at each tree: can it be that I will never see it again? How can I leave the graves of my parents? I was born here and I have grown up here, and every little thing here is dear to me.

In 1979, when I turned 55, I began to receive a personal pension of the Republican significance. Considering my Item 5  19 line this was a great accomplishment. It wasn’t a lot more money, but it meant many benefits. For example, I paid 20 percent of the cost of medications for any medications and any quantity. I also paid 50 percent of communal utility fees for the apartment, power and telephone. Once a year I was allowed a free trip to any health center in the Soviet Union. Once I also received an allowance equal to my one and a half pension. Besides, I could have medical treatment in the republican polyclinic for governmental officials. As a pensioner I continued working in an ordinary job for a few years. My husband was very independent and proud and often changed jobs for this reason, though he was a very good economist, so he got a smaller pension than I had.

The life of pensioners became much worse after perestroika 20. Personal pensions were cancelled, and I lost all the benefits. We spent a bigger part of our pensions on our apartment fees and medications, as we were growing older and sickly. However, freedom was granted that didn’t exist before and we can talk about the rebirth of the Jewish life in Kishinev. At first we started a Jewish library and now it is our community center. There was a club of pensioners opened in the library and I became one of its first members in 1993. I also began to work as a volunteer in Yehuda, a charity organization in the Hesed. In 1997 I became mistress of the warm house. I am fond of this work. We celebrate all the Jewish holidays and I try to do everything in accordance with Jewish traditions. For example, on Pesach I put on the plate of each attendant four pieces of matzah, with a napkin between them, an egg, horseradish and potatoes, everything that traditions require. Young people from the Hillel, an organization for young people, visit us. Considering my age, it’s getting harder to manage my duties of the mistress of the warm house, but this activity supports me a lot. A few years ago I went to the synagogue on Sunday afternoon. There was a club conducted by Rabbi Zalman-Leib Abelskiy. The club is still there, but I can’t attend it due to my health condition. Hesed delivers a food package to me every month. A few months ago my husband died. It was his will to be buried at the Jewish part in the cemetery ‘Doina,’ but not according to the Jewish ritual - and so I did it.

Glossary:

1 Bessarabia

Historical area between the Prut and Dniestr rivers, in the southern part of Odessa region. Bessarabia was part of Russia until the Revolution of 1917. In 1918 it declared itself an independent republic, and later it united with Romania. The Treaty of Paris (1920) recognized the union but the Soviet Union never accepted this. In 1940 Romania was forced to cede Bessarabia and Northern Bukovina to the USSR. The two provinces had almost 4 million inhabitants, mostly Romanians. Although Romania reoccupied part of the territory during World War II the Romanian peace treaty of 1947 confirmed their belonging to the Soviet Union. Today it is part of Moldova.

2 Great Patriotic War

On 22nd June 1941 at 5 o’clock in the morning Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union without declaring war. This was the beginning of the so-called Great Patriotic War. The German blitzkrieg, known as Operation Barbarossa, nearly succeeded in breaking the Soviet Union in the months that followed. Caught unprepared, the Soviet forces lost whole armies and vast quantities of equipment to the German onslaught in the first weeks of the war. By November 1941 the German army had seized the Ukrainian Republic, besieged Leningrad, the Soviet Union's second largest city, and threatened Moscow itself. The war ended for the Soviet Union on 9th May 1945.

3 Russian Revolution of 1917

Revolution in which the tsarist regime was overthrown in the Russian Empire and, under Lenin, was replaced by the Bolshevik rule. The two phases of the Revolution were: February Revolution, which came about due to food and fuel shortages during World War I, and during which the tsar abdicated and a provisional government took over. The second phase took place in the form of a coup led by Lenin in October/November (October Revolution) and saw the seizure of power by the Bolsheviks.

4 Annexation of Bessarabia to Romania

During the chaotic days of the Soviet Revolution the national assembly of Moldovans convoked to Kishinev decided on 4th December 1917 the proclamation of an independent Moldovan state. In order to impede autonomous aspirations, Russia occupied the Moldovan capital in January 1918. Upon Moldova’s desperate request, the army of neighboring Romania entered Kishinev in the same month recapturing the city from the Bolsheviks. This was the decisive step toward the union with Romania: the Moldovans accepted the annexation without any preliminary condition.

5 Lermontov, Mikhail, (1814-1841)

Russian poet and novelist. His poetic reputation, second in Russia only to Pushkin's, rests upon the lyric and narrative works of his last five years. Lermontov, who had sought a position in fashionable society, became enormously critical of it. His novel, A Hero of Our Time (1840), is partly autobiographical. It consists of five tales about Pechorin, a disenchanted and bored nobleman. The novel is considered a classic of Russian psychological realism.

6 Jabotinsky, Vladimir (1880-1940)

Founder and leader of the Revisionist Zionist movement; soldier, orator and a prolific author writing in Hebrew, Russian, and English. During World War I he established and served as an officer in the Jewish Legion, which fought in the British army for the liberation of the Land of Israel from Turkish rule. He was a member of the Board of Directors of the Keren Hayesod, the financial arm of the World Zionist Organization, founded in London in 1920, and was later elected to the Zionist Executive. He resigned in 1923 in protest over Chaim Weizmann’s pro-British policy and founded the Revisionist Zionist movement and the Betar youth movement two years later. Jabotinsky also founded the ETZEL (National Military Organization) during the 1936-39 Arab rebellion in Palestine.

7 Keren Kayemet Leisrael (K

K.L.): Jewish National Fund (JNF) founded in 1901 at the Fifth Zionist Congress in Basel. From its inception, the JNF was charged with the task of fundraising in Jewish communities for the purpose of purchasing land in the Land of Israel to create a homeland for the Jewish people. After 1948 the fund was used to improve and afforest the territories gained. Every Jewish family that wished to help the cause had a JNF money box, called the ‘blue box’. They threw in at least one lei each day, while on Sabbath and high holidays they threw in as many lei as candles they lit for that holiday. This is how they partly used to collect the necessary funds. Now these boxes are known worldwide as a symbol of Zionism.

8 Annexation of Bessarabia to the Soviet Union

At the end of June 1940 the Soviet Union demanded Romania to withdraw its troops from Bessarabia and to abandon the territory. Romania withdrew its troops and administration in the same month and between 28th June and 3rd July, the Soviets occupied the region. At the same time Romania was obliged to give up Northern Transylvania to Hungary and Southern-Dobrudja to Bulgaria. These territorial losses influenced Romanian politics during World War II to a great extent] 7 NKVD: People’s Committee of Internal Affairs; it took over from the GPU, the state security agency, in 1934.

9 NKVD

People’s Committee of Internal Affairs; it took over from the GPU, the state security agency, in 1934.

10 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread of the ideas of communism and involve the worker and peasant youth in building the Soviet Union. The Komsomol also aimed at giving a communist upbringing by involving the worker youth in the political struggle, supplemented by theoretical education. The Komsomol was more popular than the Communist Party because with its aim of education people could accept uninitiated young proletarians, whereas party members had to have at least a minimal political qualification.

11 Kolkhoz

In the Soviet Union the policy of gradual and voluntary collectivization of agriculture was adopted in 1927 to encourage food production while freeing labor and capital for industrial development. In 1929, with only 4% of farms in kolkhozes, Stalin ordered the confiscation of peasants' land, tools, and animals; the kolkhoz replaced the family farm.

12 Card system

The food card system regulating the distribution of food and industrial products was introduced in the USSR in 1929 due to extreme deficit of consumer goods and food. The system was cancelled in 1931. In 1941, food cards were reintroduced to keep records, distribute and regulate food supplies to the population. The card system covered main food products such as bread, meat, oil, sugar, salt, cereals, etc. The rations varied depending on which social group one belonged to, and what kind of work one did. Workers in the heavy industry and defense enterprises received a daily ration of 800 g (miners - 1 kg) of bread per person; workers in other industries 600 g. Non-manual workers received 400 or 500 g based on the significance of their enterprise, and children 400 g. However, the card system only covered industrial workers and residents of towns while villagers never had any provisions of this kind. The card system was abolished in 1947.

13 Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’

The campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’, i.e. Jews, was initiated in articles in the central organs of the Communist Party in 1949. The campaign was directed primarily at the Jewish intelligentsia and it was the first public attack on Soviet Jews as Jews. ‘Cosmopolitans’ writers were accused of hating the Russian people, of supporting Zionism, etc. Many Yiddish writers as well as the leaders of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee were arrested in November 1948 on charges that they maintained ties with Zionism and with American ‘imperialism’. They were executed secretly in 1952. The anti-Semitic Doctors’ Plot was launched in January 1953. A wave of anti-Semitism spread through the USSR. Jews were removed from their positions, and rumors of an imminent mass deportation of Jews to the eastern part of the USSR began to spread. Stalin’s death in March 1953 put an end to the campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’.

14 Doctors’ Plot

The Doctors’ Plot was an alleged conspiracy of a group of Moscow doctors to murder leading government and party officials. In January 1953, the Soviet press reported that nine doctors, six of whom were Jewish, had been arrested and confessed their guilt. As Stalin died in March 1953, the trial never took place. The official paper of the Party, the Pravda, later announced that the charges against the doctors were false and their confessions obtained by torture. This case was one of the worst anti-Semitic incidents during Stalin’s reign. In his secret speech at the Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 Khrushchev stated that Stalin wanted to use the Plot to purge the top Soviet leadership.

15 Gulag

The Soviet system of forced labor camps in the remote regions of Siberia and the Far North, which was first established in 1919. However, it was not until the early 1930s that there was a significant number of inmates in the camps. By 1934 the Gulag, or the Main Directorate for Corrective Labor Camps, then under the Cheka's successor organization the NKVD, had several million inmates. The prisoners included murderers, thieves, and other common criminals, along with political and religious dissenters. The Gulag camps made significant contributions to the Soviet economy during the rule of Stalin. Conditions in the camps were extremely harsh. After Stalin died in 1953, the population of the camps was reduced significantly, and conditions for the inmates improved somewhat.
16 KGB: The KGB or Committee for State Security was the main Soviet external security and intelligence agency, as well as the main secret police agency from 1954 to 1991.
17 Rehabilitation in the Soviet Union: Many people who had been arrested, disappeared or killed during the Stalinist era were rehabilitated after the 20th Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in 1956, where Khrushchev publicly debunked the cult of Stalin and lifted the veil of secrecy from what had happened in the USSR during Stalin’s leadership. It was only after the official rehabilitation that people learnt for the first time what had happened to their relatives as information on arrested people had not been disclosed before.

18 Kislovodsk

Town in Stavropol region, Balneal resort. Located at the foothills of the Caucasus at the height of 720-1060 meters.

19 Item 5

This was the nationality factor, which was included on all job application forms, Jews, who were considered a separate nationality in the Soviet Union, were not favored in this respect from the end of World War II until the late 1980s.

20 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

Soviet economic and social policy of the late 1980s, associated with the name of Soviet politician Mikhail Gorbachev. The term designated the attempts to transform the stagnant, inefficient command economy of the Soviet Union into a decentralized, market-oriented economy. Industrial managers and local government and party officials were granted greater autonomy, and open elections were introduced in an attempt to democratize the Communist Party organization. By 1991, perestroika was declining and was soon eclipsed by the dissolution of the USSR.


 

Maria (Masha) Rolnikaite

Maria (Masha) Rolnikaite

Sankt Peterburgas, Rusija

Maria Grigorjevna Rolnikaitė kartu su vyru gyvena jaukiame dviejų kambarių bute viename iš naujųjų Sankt Peterburgo rajonų. Prieš mūsų interviu ji labai rekomendavo perskaityti jos parašytą knygą „Tai yra tiesa“. Vienas knygos skyrius vadinasi „Turiu jums tai papasakoti“. Iš tiesų, tai Marijos Grigorjevnos dienoraštis, kurį ji rašė būdama Vilniaus gete, o paskui dviejose nacių koncentracijos stovyklose. Knyga buvo išversta į daugelį kalbų ir išleista visame pasaulyje. Ji suteikia žmonėms galimybę sužinoti siaubingą tiesą apie tas dienas.

Nuo pirmųjų susitikimo minučių mus sužavėjo Marijos aiškus protas ir drąsa. Apie tai galima spręsti iš jos išvaizdos, kiekvieno žodžio ir nuomonės. Masha yra geranoriška, humoro jausmą turinti ir aplinkiniu pasauliu besidominti asmenybė. Masha dažnai nurodydavo faktus, aprašytus jos knygoje: ji nenorėjo vėl kalbėti apie siaubingas savo gyvenimo detales, nes, pasak jos, kiekvienas prisiminimas paliko randus.

Mano šeimos istorija

Kaip aš augau

Per karą

Po karo

Žodynėlis

Mano šeimos istorija

Deja, nieko nežinau apie pro-senelius ir pro-močiutes. Žinau tik tiek, kad jie visi kilę iš Lietuvos. Tėtis sakydavo, kad jo senelis buvo vandens nešėjas, bet gal jis taip juokavo. Dauguma mano giminaičių gyveno Plungės miestelyje (štetle) netoli Klaipėdos. [Klaipėda yra trečias pagal dydį Lietuvos miestas prie Baltijos jūros, įsikūręs ant Danės upės krantų.] Prisimenu, kad mano močiutės iš tėvo pusės vardas buvo Hana Rolnikienė.

Mano senelį iš tėvo pusės vadino Itsik Abel Rolnik. Lenkiškai „rolnik“ reiškia „ūkininkas“, bet, kiek žinau, tarp mūsų šeimos narių ūkininkų nebuvo. Jis buvo senas religingas žydas, nešiojo barzdą ir laikėsi tradicijų. Turėjo mažą parduotuvėlę. Močiutė Hana buvo gyvybinga ir šmaikšti. Ji pagimdė dešimt vaikų ir visus juos išaugino. Deja, keli vaikai mirė dar prieš karą. Pradžioje parduotuvėlė buvo labai maža: sagos, kaspinai ir pan. Vėliau jie ėmė prekiauti audiniais ir gatavomis prekėmis. Močiutė pasakojo, kad po prekystaliu laikė medinę geldą (tokiose moterys skalbdavo), kurioje gulėdavo kūdikis. Ji koja supdavo tokį „lopšį“ ir tuo pat metu prekiaudavo. Kūdikį  žindydavo mažoji kamarėlėje ir tai būdavo vienintelė jos pertrauka. Štai taip ji augino savo vaikus!

Senelis buvo religingas ir lankė sinagogą. Buvo tylus ir rimtas, o močiutė, priešingai, mėgo pajuokauti. Štai pavyzdys. Močiutė turėjo brolį, gyvenusį gretimame mieste. Jis siųsdavo laiškus visiškai neįskaitomu raštu. Todėl močiutė nusiuntė jam atsakymą: atvažiuok pas mus ir pats perskaityk savo laišką!

1938 metais parduotuvę perėmė mano dėdė Berl (tėčio brolis). Močiutė nelabai pasitikėjo jo komerciniais gebėjimais, todėl juokaudavo: „kai mirsiu, išgręžkite man karste skylę, kad galėčiau pasižiūrėti kaip tvarkaisi be manęs“. 1940 metais parduotuvę nacionalizavo ir močiutė negalėjo su tuo susitaikyti. Parduotuvė buvo jos vaikas, kurį išdrįso iš jos atimti. Valdžia atėmė viską, tad, kai dėdė visam laikui išėjo iš parduotuvės, jis nešėsi tik visiškai nudilusį arbatinuką (šluodami, su juo laistydavo grindis). Dėdė pasakė: „Dabar tai vienintelis daiktas, kurį turime“. Močiutė mirė 1941 metų sausio 3 dieną. Nacionalizacijos kampanija baigėsi 1940-jų rudenį, Lietuvai tapus Sovietine Respublika 1. Močiutė mirė miegodama nuo kraujo išsiliejimo į smegenis. Tuo metu jai buvo 64 metai. Jos širdis buvo tokia stipri, kad giminaičiai spėjo pakviesti mano Tėtį ir kitus močiutės sūnus. Jie atvyko ir galėjo atiduoti motinai paskutinę pagarbą. Per laidotuves Tėtis pasakė kalbą, nors tai nebuvo įprasta. Jis minėjo  močiutės nuopelnus ir už ką giminaičiai yra jai dėkingi.

Kai tėčiui sukako 12 metų, senelis ir močiutė išsiuntė jį į chederį (pradinę mokyklą). Mokykla buvo gretimame miestelyje. Tačiau Tėtis greit mokslu nusivylė ir pėsčiomis grįžo namo. Vėliau jis baigė vidurinę mokyklą ir išvyko į Rygą mokytis gimnazijoje. Tėvai nupirko jam juodą kostiumą ir kaklaraištį ir tik tiek tegalėjo padėti. Tėtis išvyko į Rygą visai be pinigų, uždarbiavo dirbdamas nešiku ir krovėju. Kai kelnės visiškai prairdavo, jis jas lopė karpydamas savo kaklaraištį. Tėtis sugebėjo baigti gimnaziją Rygoje (kažkodėl tai buvo rusiška gimnazija), nusprendė tapti advokatu ir studijuoti universitete Vokietijoje. Jis pasiuntė 12 prašymų į 12 universitetų ir visi prašymai buvo atmesti. Nepaisant to, tėtis išvyko į Berlyną ir sugebėjo patekti į susitikimą su vieno universiteto rektoriumi.

Juokinga, bet pašto ženklas suvaidino lemtingą rolę, padėjusią Tėčiui tapti studentu. Tėtis atėjo pas rektorių, pasakė, kad yra iš Lietuvos ir nori studijuoti universitete. Rektorius paklausė: „Tai jūs iš Lietuvos? Neseniai mes su kolegomis ginčijomės dėl Lietuvos ir Latvijos. Ar tai ta pati valstybė?“ Tėtis atsakė, kad ne, kad jis turi savo tėvų laišką su Lietuvos pašto ženklu. Po šio pokalbio rektorius leido Tėčiui tapti studentu neakivaizdininku. Vėliau Tėtis išlaikė visus egzaminus ir tapo normaliu studentu, mokėsi Berlyne ir Leipcige. Jis baigė teisės fakultetą, vėliau baigė Vokiečių kalbos ir literatūros koledžą, kuriame buvo rengiami vokiečių kalbos ir literatūros mokytojai užsieniečiams. Aš paklausiau: „Tėti, kam?“. Jis atsakė: „Man tai buvo labai įdomu“. Vokiečių kalbos žinios buvo naudingos, nes vėliau mes turėjome auklę iš Vokietijos ir ji su mumis kalbėjo vokiškai. Tai naudinga man ir dabar, po daugelio metų. Vienu metu man rodėsi, kad viską pamiršau, tačiau kai mano knygą išleido Vokietijoje, aš nuvykau ten ir nors prastai kalbėjau vokiškai, tačiau sugebėjau atsakyti į klausimus. Tarp kitko, knygos rankraštį skaičiau jidiš kalba (jų pageidavimu).

Mama buvo namų šeimininkė. Ji turėjo keturis vaikus ir šokinėjo aplink mus kaip kiekviena žydė motina. Ją vadino Taiber Koganaitė.  Neprisimenu Mamos tėvo, bet prisimenu jos motiną. Deja, vardo nepamenu. Močiutė buvo labai religinga. Ji gyveno Telšiuose, bet atvažiavusi pas mus tik sėdėdavo ir melsdavosi visą laiką. Ji taip pykdavo, jei mes nesilaikydavome šabo taisyklių. Mano mamos tėvas mirė prieš man gimstant, jo pavardė buvo Kogan.

Kaip aš augau

Gimiau 1927 metais Klaipėdoje.

Vaikystėje mėgau dainuoti ir svajojau tapti dainininke. Dainavau tiek daug, kad net užkimau. Taip pat rašiau eiles. Būdama devynerių nusprendžiau parašyti romaną ir nusipirkau storą užrašų sąsiuvinį. Romaną pavadinau „Likimas“ ir užrašiau pavadinimą ant viršelio. Pradėjau nuo grafienės laidotuvių aprašymo: karietos, juodos užuolaidos ir pan. Greitai mečiau šį užsiėmimą. Tačiau visą laiką norėjau rašyti. Mokykloje turėjome albumus, į kuriuos rašydavome eilėraščius viena kitai. Vis dar su malonumu prisimenu savo eilėraštį: kai tapsi sena ir tavo senas vyras bus šalia, užsidėk akinius ir perskaityk šiuos žodžius. Lietuviškai tai buvo surimuota ir gerai skambėjo. Taip pat nuo vaikystės rašiau dienoraštį.

Turėjome tarnaitę, nors mama nedirbo. Sekmadienį tarnaitei buvo išeiginė, todėl mes (kartu su mano trimis metais vyresne seserimi Miriam) turėjome pačios tvarkytis kambarius. Būdamos gana mažos, jau turėjome skalbti, lyginti ir siūti baltas apykakles ir rankogalius prie savo uniformų. Taip pat turėjome valytis batus. Jei pramiegodavome, tarnaitė mums padėdavo, tačiau vėliau grasindavo, kad pasakys tėčiui.

Tėtis visur žiūrėdavo tvarkos. Mamos svarbiausias rūpestis buvo mus maitinti. Tėtis mėgdavo sakyti: „Turime duonos, sviesto, pomidorų ir druskos“. Jis taip pat sakydavo, kad mes (mergaitės) turime ruoštis būsimam gyvenimui ir mokytis gaminti maistą iš Mamos. Dirbo tiktai Tėtis, taigi jo finansinė padėtis nebuvo labai gera: jis turėjo 4 vaikus, šeima taip pat laikė tarnaitę. Turėjau jaunesnį brolį Ruvel (gimė 1934 metais) ir jaunesnę seserį Rają (gimė 1936 metais). Kai kažkas paklausė Tėčio, kodėl jis turi tiek daug vaikų, jis visada atsakydavo, kad laukia gimstant sūnaus.

Lankiau žydų vaikų darželį ir vėliau žydų pagrindinę mokyklą. 1940 metais ją uždarė ir aš tapau lietuviškos gimnazijos mokine. Tačiau namuose kalbėjome tik jidiš. Vis dar galiu rašyti jidiš. Būdama gete ir koncentracijos stovyklose rašiau dienoraštį jidiš kalba. Ir dabar aš įvairiomis progomis pabrėžiu, kad mano gimtoji kalba yra jidiš, nors tai stebina aplinkinius. Per gyventojų surašymą [toks sąjunginis SSRS gyventojų surašymas vyko 1989 metais] buvau paklausta apie gimtąją kalbą ir atsakiau, kad tai žydų kalba. Darbuotojas nustebo ir pasakė, kad mano vyras ir aš kalbame rusiškai. Paaiškinau, jog rusiškai kalbame todėl, kad vyras nemoka jidiš. Darbuotojas nustebo, kad moku tris kalbas: jidiš, lietuvių ir rusų. Nesu tikra, kad jis viską užrašė, nes rašė atsakymus pieštuku ir niekas nežino, kas iš tikrųjų buvo parašyta.

Mokėmės lietuviškoje gimnazijoje kartu su seserimi. Tuo metu žmonės laikėsi tradicijų ir gerbė religingus kaimynus. Pasitaikydavo antisemitizmo apraiškų (kai kurie žmonės kaltino žydus nukryžiavus Jėzų), bet valstybinio antisemitizmo nebuvo. Pavyzdžiui, šeštadieniais gimnazijoje galėjome neatlikti užduočių raštu, mokytojai mūsų neklausinėdavo. Žinojome, kad per svarbiausias žydų šventes galime neiti į mokyklą.

Tuo metu mokyklose mokiniai turėjo tikybos pamokas (kol į valdžią neatėjo komunistai). Mūsų klasėje virš lentos kabėjo kryžius. Rytais mokytojas ateidavo į klasę, atsisukdavo į kryžių ir melsdavosi. Visi mokiniai, išskyrus mus, taip pat melsdavosi. Po paskutinės pamokos mokytojas taip pat liepdavo pasimelsti. Budintis mokinys sakydavo padėkos maldą. Man visada būdavo juokinga klausyti Te Deum, jeigu budintis mokinys tą dieną buvo gavęs blogus pažymius.

Mus taip pat mokė žydų religijos pagrindų (kiekvieną penktadienį). Visi 1-8 klasių mokiniai turėjo to mokytis. Vieną dieną susikirtau su tikybos mokytoju, nes jis sužinojo, kad mano tėvas nėra tikintis.   Dar daugiau, per Šabą mokytojas pamatė Tėtį važiuojant namo automobiliu. Tai buvo skandalas ir mokytojas atsisakė rašyti man gerą pažymį. Pagal taisykles, tokiu atveju aš negalėjau būti perkelta į aukštesnę klasę. Tarp kitko, buvau puiki mokinė, tik dailės pamokos man sunkiau sekėsi. Romos katalikų kunigas buvo mūsų klasės auklėtojas, taigi, nuėjau pas jį. Jis liepė mintinai išmokti kelias giesmes. Pagiedojau jas ir jis parašė man geriausią pažymį. Konfliktas buvo išspręstas.

Būdama mokinė, susidraugavau su Burmistro dukra. Prisimenu prancūzų kalbos mokytoją. Ji buvo tikra ponia, lankėsi Paryžiuje kiekvienais metais. Mes, mergaitės, labai atidžiai stebėjime jos aprangą. Pamenate, Tėtis ruošė mus studijoms Paryžiuje ir mokė mus prancūzų kalbos namuose. Buvau pažengusi mokinė, palyginus su mokykline programa. Tad, kai prancūzų kalbos mokytoja tingėdavo mus mokyti, ji sakydavo: „Rolnikaite, skaityk ir versk“. Lietuvių kalba man irgi sekėsi, kaip ir kitos kalbos. Apskritai, mokiausi be ypatingų sunkumų. Yra žydiškas posakis: ji gali atlikti namų darbus stovėdama ant vienos kojos. Žinot, galėjau stovėti ant vienos kojos ir rašyti. Kartą Tėtis grįžo namo ir pamatė mane gulinčią ant sofos, kojomis atsirėmusią į sieną, ir besimokančią istoriją.

Rusų kalboje yra du skirtingi žodžiai „evrej“ ir „žid“. Lietuvių ir lenkų kalbose yra tik „žid – žydas“. Neseniai, mano buvusios klasės draugės vyras pasakė „... ir jūsų tautybės žmogus“. Pataisiau jį: žydas. Supratau, kad žmogus nori pasirodyti internacionalistu. Taip pat jis bijojo įžeisti mano jausmus, bet aš jį pataisiau. Niekada neslėpiau savo tautybės.

Tačiau mokykloje suvokiau save kaip žydę. Pavyzdžiui, lietuvių kalboje labai svarbu kirčiavimas. Jei žmogus klaidingai kirčiuoja žodį, tai reiškia, kad jis blogai kalba lietuviškai. Mūsų mokytojas diktuodavo, mes turėjome pagauti žodžių kirtį iš klausos. Aš sugebėjau rašyti iš klausos. Buvau vienintelė mokinė klasėje, gaudavusi geriausius pažymius. Ir mokytojas pasakė apie mane: „Lietuvių kalba nėra jos gimtoji, bet ji rašo geriau už jus visas“. Taigi, kartais mes suvokdavome, kad esame skirtingos. Bet niekas mums to nesakė į akis.

Tėtis pasitikėjo mumis. Plungėje buvo tik vienas automobilis su vairuotoju ir daug vairuotojų. Mūsų gimnazija buvo toli nuo namų, beveik priemiestyje, prie kapinių. Buvo baisu eiti namo vakarais ir Tėtis duodavo pinigų pasisamdyti automobilį. Jis tik prašė važiuoti namo kartu. Mano sesuo jau buvo suaugusi ir jos, jaunos panelės, eidavo ir kažką diskutuodavo, o aš turėjau tyliai sekti iš paskos.

Susigalvojau programą: vykti į Paryžių su seserimi ir ten stoti į universitetą. Sesuo buvo trimis metais vyresnė. Turėjau daug mokytis mokykloje, bet kartais ilgam užtrukdavau čiuožykloje ar per ilgai užsibūdavau su draugais. Tokiais atvejais Tėtis sakydavo: „Kai nuvyksi į Sorboną, tavęs paklaus. Ką atsakysi? Manau, atsakysi tik tiek žino tavo Cypka“. Kažkodėl jis vadino mano draugę Cypka. Bet jis niekad nebaudė manęs ir neskaitė pamokslų. Kai ketindavome vėlai grįžti iš vakarėlių, niekad nemeluodavome. Tėtis neliepė grįžti nustatytu laiku, jis tik mūsų laukdavo. Manau, kad jis nemiegodavo ir laukdavo atsidarant durų.

Aišku, kai į valdžią atėjo sovietai, mes turėjome pamiršti Sorboną. Beje, močiutė jau ruošėsi duoti pinigų mano studijoms, o dėdė, kuris gyveno Prancūzijoje, ieškojo pigaus nuomojamo buto Paryžiuje mano seseriai ir man. Deja, mūsų planai žlugo. Prie komunistų valdžios mūsų gyvenimas visiškai pasikeitė.

Kalbant apie žydiškas tradicijas, mano senelis ypač griežtai jų laikėsi. Todėl šventėme Pesachą ir aš visada klausdavau tų 4 klausimų. Po to gaudavau vieną kilogramą riešutų. Kartu su močiute uždegdavome Šabo žvakes. Nors Mama nebuvo labai religinga, kaip ir Tėtis, ji laikėsi kašruto: atskirai laikė mėsą ir pieno produktus. Kai senelis aplankydavo mus, jis arbatą gėrė tik su uogiene, nes buvo laikoma, kad stiklinės nenaudojamos nei pienui, nei mėsai. Kartu su močiute eidavome į sinagogą ir mačiau, kad vyrai ir moterys joje būna atskirai. Močiutė melsdavosi. Kai per Roš ha-šana pučiant šofarą atsiverdavo dangus, kad žmonių prašymai eitų tiesiai į jį, visi verkdavo, o mes su seserimi nesuprasdavo kodėl. Per Jom Kipurą žydai melsdavosi už savo mirusiųjų atminimą ir močiutė neleisdavo man ir seseriai būti sinagogoje. Beje, gete nebuvo sinagogos, tik kambarys maldoms. Ir rabinas draudė melstis už žydų, kuriuos fašistai išvežė į Panerius 2, atminimą. Jis manė, kad tai nuodėmė, nes kai kurie iš šių žydų galėtų būti gyvi. Kartais atsitikdavo taip, kad po šaudymų kai kurie žydai likdavo gyvi, išsikapstydavo iš po lavonų ir grįždavo į getą. Pradžioje fašistai šaudė nesitaikydami ir žmonės krito žemėn tik sužeisti. Tačiau vėliau jie įsakė užpilti duobes gesintomis kalkėmis, kad niekas nebegalėtų išlipti.

Mano tėvo brolis Berl dirbo parduotuvėje, apie kurią kalbėjau. Mano teta (jo jaunesnioji sesuo) nutekėjo į Rygą ir buvo tenai nužudyta gete. Jos vyrą nušovė tarp pirmųjų žydų vyrų. Ji turėjo du vaikus (vienas iš kurių buvo kūdikis), todėl negalėjo dirbti. Jie mirė tenai iš bado. Daug vėliau dvi moterys iš Rygos mums apie ją papasakojo.

Kitas tėvo brolis buvo Mikhėj. Jis baigė gimnaziją ir išvyko į Paryžių, visiškai nemokėdamas prancūzų kalbos. Jo pirmieji laiškai buvo labai liūdni ir melancholiški. Tačiau po metų jis įstojo į Sorboną. Jis buvo labai talentingas. Vėliau jis tapo žinomu advokatu ir jo kolegos netikėjo, kad jis nėra prancūzas: tuo metu jis jau puikiai kalbėjo prancūziškai. 1938 metais jis sugebėjo atvykti į savo sesers vestuvių ceremoniją. Į Rygą jis važiavo per Vokietiją ir mes visi jaudinomės dėl jo, nes Hitleris jau buvo valdžioje.

Mano dėdė Berl (parduotuvės savininkas) buvo ištremtas į Sibirą 3 kartu su savo šeima. Jie grįžo atgal tik 1956 ar 1957 metais. Vėliau mano dėdė, teta ir jų dukra mirė. Jų sūnus dabar gyvena Izraelyje.

Plungė buvo puikus mažas miestas! Buvo didelis kunigaikščio Oginskio (kompozitoriaus Oginskio, sukūrusio įžymųjį polonezą, giminaičio) rūmų parkas. Parkas buvo atviras visiems. Parke buvo čiuožykla, kurioje mes čiuožinėdavome. Mieste buvo daugybė medžių.

Kai Hitleris atėjo į valdžią, per radiją transliavo jo kalbą. Kadangi tik mes turėjome radijo imtuvą, kaimynai atėjo pasiklausyti kalbos. Mano mažojo brolio auklė, vietinė lietuvė mergina, nesuprato Hitlerio ir keikė jį, kadangi Hitleris trukdė vaikui miegoti.

Tėtis labai gailėjosi, kad mes gyvename mažame Plungės mieste, kaimo vietovėje. Jis norėjo, kad mes gautume gerą europinio lygio išsilavinimą. Tačiau 1940 metais pagal Molotovo – Ribentropo paktą 4 Vilnius vėl tapo Lietuvos sostine ir mes persikėlėme tenai. Tai išgelbėjo mums gyvybę, nes vėliau per okupaciją (per karą) 1800 Plungės žydų buvo suvaryti į sinagogą, nuvesti už miesto į netikinčiųjų kapines ir sušaudyti. Fašistai siūlė žydams paneigti judaizmą ir taip išsaugoti gyvybes.

Kai kurie jauni žmonėms taip ir padarė, bet vis tiek visi buvo sušaudyti. Plungėje sušaudymo vietoje stovi paminklas. Pinigus paminklui surinko sušaudytų žydų giminės ir Plungės sovietiniai vadovai leido jį statyti. Įrašai paminkle yra jidiš, lietuvių ir rusų kalbomis.

Prieš karą mūsų šeima buvo gana didelė. Tačiau mano senelis, močiutės sesuo, jos vyras ir dvi dukros, ir mano tėvo pusbrolis žuvo Plungėje. Mano dėdė (mamos brolis) buvo nužudytas mažame Telšių mieste. [Telšiai – Lietuvos miestas 200 kilometrų nuo Vilniaus.] Kai Telšių žydus varė į žudymo vietą, jis sugebėjo pabėgti. Tačiau fašistai jį pagavo ir nušovė, taip sakant, individualiai. Jie privertė jį išsikasti kapą. Vėliau keli lietuviai liudininkai pasakė mums, kad jis išprotėjo: jis suprato, kad kasa sau kapą ir pakvaišo (tačiau to neįmanoma įrodyti). Mano teta, jo žmona, ir dvi dukterys žuvo Šiaulių gete. [Šiauliai yra Lietuvos miestas.]

Tėtis suskaičiavo 49 mūsų šeimos narius, kurių netekome per karą: jo ir mamos pusbroliai ir pusseserės, seserys, vaikai...

Iš mūsų šeimos tiktai Tėtis (jis buvo fronte), mano vyresnioji sesuo Miriam ir aš likome gyvi. Miriam buvo Vilniaus gete 5, tačiau sugebėjo išgyventi.

1943 metų rugsėjį hitlerininkai atsitraukė ir Raudonoji Armija priartėjo prie Smolensko. Tuo metu Miriam pavyko pabėgti iš geto. Ji tikėjosi rasti žmonių, kurie ją paslėptų ar parūpintų jai padirbtus dokumentus. Ji netgi tikėjosi padėti mums (savo šeimai) pabėgti iš geto. Tuo metu situacija gete buvo gana rami, bet netrukus pasirodė hitlerininkai. Jie perskaitė gestapo viršininko įsakymą evakuoti žydus iš Vilniaus geto. Žydai turėjo būti perkelti į dvi darbo stovyklas: viena buvo Estijoje, kita Lietuvoje. Evakuacija vyko labai greitai, viskas baigėsi per keturias valandas. Todėl aš nieko nežinojau apie Miriam iki 1945 metų.

Per karą

1941 metų birželio 22 dieną prasidėjo karas 6. Tą pačią dieną bombardavo Vilnių. Sovietų armija kovėsi atsitraukdama. Hitlerininkai beveik užėmė miestą. Mano tėvai žinojo, kad fašistai nekenčia žydų. Buvo ir kita priežastis nerimauti: mano tėvas bendradarbiavo su sovietų valdžia. Tėvai nusprendė pasitraukti į šalies gilumą, kur užpuolikai negalėtų mūsų pasiekti. Tėvas nuėjo pirkti bilietų, o mes (Mama ir keturi vaikai) likome namuose jo laukti. Mes laukėme labai ilgai, žiūrėdami kaip žmonės su daiktais, sovietų tankai, mašinos ėjo ir važiavo pro mūsų langus. Galiausiai nusprendėme eiti į geležinkelio stotį ir surasti Tėtį. Stotyje sužinojome, kad daugiau traukinių nebus, tai buvo siaubinga nelaimė. Žmonės pasakojo vieni kitiems apie paskutinį traukinį, kuris buvo subombarduotas netrukus po išvykimo. Tėčio neradome ir nusprendėme eiti iš miesto, tikėdamiesi pagauti mašiną. Tačiau eiti buvo sunku, vargino kaitra, ypač 5 ir 7 metų vaikus. Taigi, ėjome kurį laiką, paskui pasukome atgal namo. Čia sužinojome, kad, kol mūsų nebuvo, Tėtis grįžo namo ir vėl išėjo ieškoti automobilio. Fašistų kariuomenė užėmė miestą tą pačią naktį. Tėtis negrįžo.

Vienas iš pirmųjų naujos valdžios įsakymų buvo iškabintas ant restoranų ir kavinių durų „Žydams neleidžiama“. Nuėjau į mokyklą atsiimti vyresniosios sesers Miros mokyklos baigimo pažymėjimą ir kitus dokumentus. Mokykla buvo purvina ir apgriauta. Berniukas iš 9-tos klasės priėjo prie manęs ir pasakė: „Eik lauk! Nesmardink mūsų mokyklos!“. Tačiau tuo momentu mūsų mokytojas Jonaitis pašaukė mane. Jis paspaudė man ranką, paklausė, ko atėjau, nuėjo kartu su manim į raštinę ir padėjo surasti mokyklos baigimo pažymėjimą ir mūsų gimimo liudijimus. Šis žmogus mums daug padėjo vėliau, kai buvome gete. Jis davė mums maisto ir pinigų, pats rizikuodamas gyvybe.

Greitai hitlerininkai įvedė savo pinigus ir liepė užregistruoti visus radijo imtuvus. Vėliau jie įsakė visiems žydams nešioti specialų ženklą: geltoną kvadratą ir apskritimą su raide J viduryje. Kartu su Mama padarėme šiuos ženklus iš senos geltonos lovatiesės. Žydai privalėjo atnešti į komendantūrą pinigus, aukso dirbinius ir papuošalus. Tačiau buvo labiau gąsdinančių naujienų: ginkluoti patruliai areštuodavo vyrus miesto gatvėse ir vesdavo į kalėjimą. Pradžioje žmonės manė, kad iš kalėjimo vyrus gabendavo į Panerius (į darbo stovyklą), bet greitai paaiškėjo, kad Paneriuose jokios stovyklos nebuvo, ten žmonės buvo šaudomi.

Liepos 21 dieną, lygiai mėnuo po vokiečių įsiveržimo į Vilnių, man sukako 14 metų. Apsivilkau mėlyną šilkinę suknelę (be jokio ženklo ant jos) ir atrodžiau labai graži! Karo pradžia reiškė mano vaikystės pabaigą. Tik dienoraštis siejo mane su ankstesniu gyvenimu. Rašiau dienoraštį būdama mokine (tokia buvo mada) ir tęsiau tai per karą. Gete trūko popieriaus, tačiau mes įsikeldavome į tuščius butus, kuriuose galima buvo rasti senų užrašų knygų. Vieną dieną gavau buhalterinę knygą ir apsidžiaugiau radusi joje tuščių puslapių. Dabar stebiuosi, kad niekas tuo metu nesijuokė iš mano bandymų rašyti kronikas. Priešingai, mano giminaičiai sakydavo „Maša, ar apie tai parašei?“. Visi miegojome kartu ant grindų prie lango. Laikiau savo užrašus ant palangės. Mama dažnai sakydavo: „Išmok tai mintinai! Tavo užrašai pakartos tavo likimą“.

Kitas fašistų įsakymas uždraudė žydams vaikščioti šaligatviais (galėjome eiti tiktai gatve) ir važiuoti bet kokiu transportu, įskaitant automobilius.

1941 metų rugsėjo 6 dieną fašistai uždarė keletą siaurų gatvių miesto centre ir iškraustė visus jų gyventojus. Žydai buvo priversti persikelti į jų namus. Tokiu būdu atsirado Vilniaus getas. Mūsų šeima taip pat persikraustė tenai. Mes gyvenome sugrūsti su kitomis šeimomis: 18 žmonių mažame kambaryje. Neužteko vietos miegoti. Viena mergaitė miegojo ant stalo, kita – po stalu. Buvo mergaitė, kuriai reikėjo miegoti vonioje. Mama pradėjo dirbti siuvimo dirbtuvėje. Mums išdavė maisto korteles ir į dieną gaudavome tik 125 gramus duonos ir truputį juodų žirnių. Buvo uždrausta įnešti maisto į getą. Jei kas taip padarydavo, tai  kainuodavo jam gyvybę.

Gete fašistai dažnai vykdė specialias akcijas, t.y. gaudė žmones mirties bausmei. 1941 metų rudenį tokios akcijos buvo gausiausios: 3-5 tūkstančiai žmonių būdavo nužudomi per kiekvieną akciją. Vėliau, kai gete liko tik reikiamas skaičius amatininkų, fašistai pradėjo bauginti žmones netikėtomis kratomis. Kareiviai įsiverždavo į bet kurį butą ir pradėdavo jį krėsti. Jie labai stengėsi rasti drabužių be geltonos žvaigždės ar kitaip iškeptos duonos (gete kepdavo specialią duoną, atrodančią kaip molis). Jei tokių dalykų rasdavo, visus buto gyventojus išsivesdavo. Tikrai niekas jų daugiau nebematė.

Fronto naujienų nuotrupos mus retkarčiais pasiekdavo. Su dideliu malonumu sužinojome, kad vokiečiai atsitraukė nuo Maskvos ir jau paliko Kalininą [miestas prie Maskvos, dabar Tverė]. Vokiečių armija patyrė didelius nuostolius, o kareiviai labai kentėjo nuo šalčio. Todėl hitlerininkai nusprendė juos šiltai aprengti mūsų sąskaita: jie įsakė sunešti į komendantūrą visus kailinius, kailines apykakles ir kailinius rankogalius. Ir vėl buvo grasinama mirties bausme tiems, kas nepaklus.

Getas buvo tarsi maža valstybė. Gete buvo įvairios įstaigos, atsakingos už maisto kortelių ir kambarių (tiksliau, kampo kambaryje) paskirstymą. Buvo specialus skyrius, besirūpinantis našlaičiais (buvo organizuotos kelios internatinės mokyklos). Buvo mokyklos ir netgi gimnazija mokiniams, tačiau ši stovėjo pustuštė: ne todėl, kad nebuvo mokinių, bet todėl, kad jie visi dirbo. Buvo kalėjimas, ligoninė, vaistinė su skurdžiu vaistų pasirinkimu. Gete buvo netgi pogrindinė organizacija, kovojusi prieš fašizmą. Vieną dieną trys šios organizacijos aktyvistai I.Kaplan, A.Khvoinik ir A.Big sužinojo apie geto likvidavimą ir nusprendė pabėgti į mišką nutekamuoju vamzdžiu. Deja, po žeme jie pasiklydo ir išlindo miesto centre. Kareiviai juos pagavo ir pakorė. Kai mano knyga buvo paruošta pirmajam leidimui, redaktorius pasakė: „Žmonės, kuriuos išvardinote, nebuvo partizanų sąrašuose, išbraukite šį epizodą“. „Bet jie buvo organizacijos nariai“ – nepasidaviau aš. Redaktorius buvo neperkalbamas: „Rytoj jie ateis reikalauti specialios pensijos!“. „Nesijaudinkite, jie neateis: fašistai juos pakorė“ – raminau jį. Tačiau tuo metu aš nė negalvojau apie būsimą knygą ir netgi apie savo galimą išlikimą.

Fašistų persekiojimui nebuvo ribų. Vieną dieną jie surinko iš geto visus senus žmones. Sakė, kad nori juos vežti į sanatoriją geresniam maitinimui ir gydymui. Giminaičiai įtarė kažką negero ir atsisakė senukus išleisti. Tada senukai buvo išvežti jėga. Juos tikrai gerai maitino ir fotografavo pirmas dvi dienas. Paskui visus sušaudė.

Pavasarį susiradau darbą. Daugiausiai dirbome už geto ribų. Iš pradžių dirbau seno turtingo ūkininko laukuose. Kasdien turėjau nešioti šimtus kibirų su vandeniu augalų laistymui. Vėliau pradėjau dirbti mezgimo dirbtuvėje, kur moterys primegzdavo pirštinėms pirštus. Vėliau perėjau į baldų fabriką šveisti slides.

Taip mes gyvenome gete, kentėdami badą bei šaltį ir laukdami mirties. Atrodo keista, bet gete buvo choras. Aš jame dalyvavau. Dainavome hebrajų ir jidiš kalbomis. Choro vadovas taip pat įkūrė simfoninį orkestrą. Tik keli muzikantai išgyveno: jie buvo laikomi mažiausiai naudingais ir fašistai pirmiausiai nužudė juos. Tačiau orkestras atsirado ir kartu su choru paruošė pasirodymui Bethoveno Devintąją simfoniją.

Su dideliu malonumu sužinojome, kad hitlerininkai paskelbė trijų dienų gedulą dėl savo armijos pralaimėjimo prie Stalingrado. Vėliau sužinojome, kad Charkovas [dabar Charkiv, Ukraina], Rostovas prie Dono ir daug kitų miestų buvo išvaduoti. Tačiau visi tie miestai buvo taip toli nuo Vilniaus!

Žmonės sužinojo, kad aplinkiniuose miesteliuose (štetluose) hitlerininkai nušovė apie 3 tūkstančius vietinių žydų. Daug partizanų grupių atsirado kaimyniniuose miškuose, tad hitlerininkai bijojo, kad vietos žydai būtinai susisieks su partizanais. Taigi jie nusprendė dalį žydų sušaudyti, o kitus suvaryti į Vilniaus ar Kauno getą. Tačiau vėliau jie persigalvojo ir visus juos nužudė. Tik keliems pavyko pabėgti; jie įsigavo į mūsų getą ir papasakojo kaip tie žydai buvo sušaudyti miške prie didelių iš anksto iškastų duobių.

Tuo laiku mano seseriai Mirai pavyko pabėgti iš geto. Keli geranoriški žmonės pažadėjo slėpti ją. Greitai visi geto gyventojai prarado darbus. Getas tapo visiškai izoliuotu nuo pasaulio. Tačiau iš gandų mes sužinojome, kad Vilniaus geležinkelio stotyje atsirado užrašas JUDENFREI (tai reiškė, kad mieste nėra žydų). Tačiau iš tikrųjų mes dar buvome gyvi! Supratome, kad prasidėjo atgalinis skaičiavimas.

Vieną rugsėjo vakarą visiems geto gyventojams buvo pranešta, kad juos evakuos į dvi darbo stovyklas Estijoje ir Lietuvoje. Evakuacijai skirta tik viena diena. Mums buvo leista pasiimti šiek tiek drabužių.

Mano brolis Ruvel gete išmoko skaityti. Jis labai tuo didžiavosi ir sakydavo, kad Tėtis džiaugsis. Ruvel nuliūdo, kad mes pasiimsime tik drabužius, ne knygas. „Ką aš ten skaitysiu?“ – paklausė jis. Mama atsakė: „Skaitysi, kai atgausime laisvę“.

Pagaliau buvome pasiruošę išvykti. Gatvėse buvo daug žmonių. Minia buvo niūri. Kartu su kitais pasiekėme geto vartus ir išėjome. Po kurio laiko priėjome daubą ir mums buvo įsakyta sustoti. Didelė minia žmonių ten lyjant praleido naktį. Kitą dieną hitlerininkai liepė žmonėms lipti iš daubos. Jie leido žmones pro vartus po vieną ir Mama liepė man eiti pirmai. Kareivis sugriebė mane pastūmė į šoną. Mama ir du vaikai liko už vartų. Bandžiau sugrįžti pas šeimą ir staiga išgirdau, kaip Mama maldauja kareivio neleisti manęs atgal. Ji sakė, kad esu jauna ir galiu gerai dirbti. Tada ji suriko man: „Gyvenk, mano vaike! Bent jau tu!“. Ji truputį pakėlė vaikus, kad galėčiau juos pamatyti. Aš pamačiau. Paskutinį kartą gyvenime!

1700 žmonių, ir aš tame tarpe, buvome nuvaryti į geležinkelio stotį ir įsodinti į traukinį. Atvykome į koncentracijos stovyklą prie Šiaulių.

Prasidėjo mano stovyklos gyvenimas, kurį sunku pavadinti gyvenimu. Naujai atvykusiems buvo išdalinti drabužiai. Aš gavau šilkinę balinę suknią, papuoštą dirbtine raudona gėle ir su gilia iškirpte. Praėjo daug laiko, kol susiradau adatą ir truputį pataisiau suknelę. Dirbau statybose. Turėjau kapoti akmenis ir stumdyti sunkius akmenų pilnus karučius. Badavome, buvome persekiojami ir mušami, jautėme mirties skausmą. Stovykloje kabėjo užrašas „Gyvename ne tam, kad dirbtume; dirbame, kad gyventume“. Hitlerininkai rengdavo taip vadinamas atrankas, t.y. rūšiavo žmones vėlesnei mirties bausmei. Iki šiol nesuprantu, kodėl likau gyva: jie ketino išžudyti visus, jaunesnius nei 18-os ir vyresnius nei 30-ies.  Man buvo 17, bet tikriausiai mano kortelėje įsivėlė klaida. Tuo metu Sovietų armija artėjo prie Rygos: girdėjome sprogimus ir bombardavimą ir matėme danguje lėktuvus. Tikėjomės, kad mus greit išvaduos, bet vietoj to vokiečiai perkėlė mus į Vokietiją (į Štuthofą). Jie pervežė mus kariniu garlaiviu (pakrautu kažkokia įranga) – į šaltį.

Štuthofo koncentracijos stovykla buvo viena iš seniausių: ją pastatė lenkų geležinkelininkai 1938-1939 metais. Stovykla priminė vergų turgų, kadangi ūkių savininkai ateidavo čia darbininkų. Turėjome nusivilkti drabužius ir rodyti darbdaviams savo raumenis. Dėl klaikaus badavimo visi kentėjome nuo vočių. Pasakiau vokiškai „Ich bin stark“ (esu stipri) ir rodžiau raumenis, nors nebuvo ką rodyti. Pusaklis senas ūkininkas pažiūrėjo į mane ir pasiėmė į savo fermą. Ten dirbau maždaug keturis mėnesius. Miegojau kiaulidėje su kiaulėmis. Savininkas užrakindavo mus nakčiai, neturėjome jokios laisvos dienos. Tačiau man pasisekė, nes galėjau nuvogti kelias bulves nuo kiaulių ėdalo savininkui nežinant. Jis mums savaitei duodavo duonos kepalą ir grasindavo: „Jei blogai dirbsite, nusiųsiu jus atgal ne į stovyklą, o tiesiai į krematoriumą“.

Lapkričio mėnesį, po derliaus nuėmimo, grįžome į stovyklą. Nebedirbome už stovyklos ribų dėl šiltinės epidemijos. Mes negaudavome pakankamai vandens, todėl valgydavome nešvarų sniegą. Aš taip pat susirgau šiltine. Po kurio laiko, tikras stebuklas, pasveikau. Kaimynai pasakojo man, kad, kai gulėjau be sąmonės ant grindų, garsiai dainavau ir keikiau vokiečius kiek galėdama. Susigėdau: „Mano Tėtis buvo advokatas, mūsų šeimoje niekas nesikeikė..“.

Staiga, kai visi jau praradome viltį išgyventi, vokiečiai liepė evakuoti tuos, kurie gali pereiti į kitą stovyklą. Negalėjau vaikščioti, tačiau žinojau, kad tie, kurie neatlaikys, bus nužudyti. Todėl iššliaužiau ir ėjau. Tai buvo mirties kelias. Mano nelaimės draugės palaikė mane; jos sakė, kad būtų gaila palikti tokią jauną merginą. Pakeliui aptikome apsnigtus bunkerius, pilnus bulvių ir burokų. Nei smūgiai, nei šūviai negalėjo mūsų sulaikyti. Mes puolėme ant žemės, kapstėme sniegą ir žemes sustingusiomis rankomis ir nusičiupome po buroką. Kai ėjome toliau, keli kaliniai liko nušauti gulėti ant sniego. Naktis praleisdavome pakelės pašiūrėse. Mano kojos sutino, bijojau nusiauti batus. Vėliau supratome, kad vokiečiai išsiuntė mus tolyn nuo artėjančios Raudonosios Armijos.

Vieną naktį mes buvome suvarytos į didžiulę daržinę ar arklidę. Vėlai naktį išgirdome, kad kažkas beldžia į duris „Ei, moterys, išeikite, Raudonoji Armija jau čia!”. Iš pradžių niekas nepatikėjo, galvojome, kad tai provokacija: vokiečiai norėjo priversti mus išbėgti ir nušauti į nugarą. Nė viena iš 700 moterų nepajudėjo. Balsas tęsė: „Jei esat kvailos, tai ir toliau čia sėdėkit!”. Ir išnyko. Mums tai buvo neįtikėtina! Kareivis pasakė tankistams apie mus. Jie tanku išlaužė duris ir moterys išbėgo iš daržinės. Negalėjau vaikščioti, net pakilti. Gulėjau ant grindų ir laukiau kol būsiu sutrypta. Pagaliau Raudonosios Armijos kariai įėjo į daržinę. Jie pakėlė mane ir ant rankų nunešė į kaimą. Apkabinau juos ir pirmą kartą pradėjau verkti. Ašaros riedėjo skruostais. Vienas kareivis pasakė: „Neverk, sese, atkeršysime už tave!”. Turėjau tik vieną mintį: aš išgyvenau! Tai buvo 1945 metų kovo 10 diena.

Kai 1945 metais grįžau iš koncentracijos stovyklos į Vilnių, miestas buvo sugriautas. Neturėjau problemų su kaimynais. Darbe (dirbau Vilniaus savivaldybės meno skyriuje redaktore) mano viršininkas Banaitis buvo labai padorus žmogus ir atsižvelgė į mano emocinę patirtį dėl mano tautybės. Jis sakė: „Nesijaudink, čia mes nekreipiame dėmesio į tautybes“. Nepajutau jokių antisemitizmo apraiškų. Tarp mano kolegų, vyriausias buhalteris buvo žydas, direktorius – taip pat žydas. Kitą darbą gavau Vilniaus valstybinėje filharmonijoje, ten buvo daug žydų, lenkų, lietuvių. Jų neapykanta rusams vertė juos maloniai elgtis su vietiniais žydais.

Po karo

Kai grįžau į Vilnių, po visų karo išbandymų, atsitiktinai gatvėje sutikau Tėtį. Jis jau žinojo, kad Miriam liko gyva. Po karo ji pradėjo studijuoti Vilniaus Universiteto teisės fakultete.

Dabar ji gyvena Klaipėdoje. Jos vyras tragiškai žuvo, nuskendo, kai jai buvo 39 metai. Ji turi du sūnus ir penkias anūkes. Ir, nepaisant amžiaus, vis dar dirba. Kartu su vaikais, sesuo kas metai aplanko mūsų miestą Plungę liepos 18-ą - Plungės žydų sunaikinimo dieną.

Deja, pasibaigus karui Tėtis prarado viltį, kad jo žmona ir vaikai Raja ir Ruvel liko gyvi. Visa tai pagreitino jo mirtį. Manau, jis buvo nelaimingas. Pusė metų prieš mirtį jis išėjo iš darbo, nes gydytojas pasakė: „Jei toliau dirbsite, krisite negyvas!”.

Po karo leisdavome daug laiko Palangoje kartu su Tėčiu. Jis dažnai prisimindavo praeitį. Kartą prisiminė, kad, kai buvome vaikai, jis susirgo, bet vis tiek su temperatūra nuėjo į savo kontorą dirbti, nes norėjo parodyti mums, kad reikia kovoti, reikia dirbti. Pasakiau, kad tuo metu mes nieko nesupratome. Tėtis taip pat dažnai aiškino mums kaip svarbu būti išsilavinusiam. Ir vėl, tuo metu, aš negalėjau jo suprasti. Kai į valdžią atėjo Hitleris, maniau, kad svarbiausia yra turėti rankose ginklą.

Tėtis manė, kad ligoninė ir kalėjimas yra vietos, kur žmonės gali gyventi. Jis turėjo puikų humoro jausmą. Aš taip pat pradėjau rašyti komiškus apsakymus. Kai mano pirmoji knyga buvo išspausdinta Maskvoje, Miša Raytiz, Lenino premijos laureatas, parašė mano knygos įžanginį žodį. [Lenino premija SSRS buvo viena iš aukščiausių apdovanojimų piliečiams už pasiekimus mokslo, technikos ir meno srityse. Lenino premija teikiama kasmet nuo 1925 metų.]

Mano antroji knyga buvo išleista 1967 metais. Taip pat išverčiau Sajanovo pjesę. Jis buvo rašytojas, Stalino premijos laureatas. [Stalino premija SSRS buvo viena iš aukščiausių apdovanojimų piliečiams už pasiekimus mokslo, technikos ir meno srityse. Stalino premija buvo teikiama kasmet nuo 1939 metų]. Tuo metu visos rašytojų Stalino premijos laureatų knygos turėjo būti išverstos į SSRS respublikų kalbas. Verčiau sunkiai, nes prastai mokėjau rusų kalbą (niekad jos nesimokiau). Kartais negalėdavau žodyne rasti autoriaus parašytų žodžių. Nepaisant to, sugebėjau išversti ir pristatyti pjesę per stojamuosius egzaminus į Literatūros technikumą. Tapau studente.

Kalbant apie pirmąsias valstybinio antisemitizmo apraiškas, galiu paminėti Solomono Michoelso nužudymą 7.

Taip pat prisimenu, kad tuo metu buvo rasta nužudyta mergaitė. Man tai buvo taip siaubinga, kad nusprendžiau nebevažinėti miesto transportu, bet visur eiti pėsčiomis, nes bijojau būti keleivių sumušta: buvo kalbama, kad mergaitę nužudė žydai, nes jiems reikėjo jos kraujo macams gaminti. Buvo tikrai baisu.

Parašiau straipsnį į Literaturnaja Gazeta. [Literaturnaja Gazeta buvo savaitinis literatūros ir politikos laikraštis SSRS.] Pavadinau straipsnį „Kur link tu eini?“ Rašiau, kaip vieną karo dieną sovietų kareiviai išlaisvino koncentracijos stovyklos kalinius ir išnešė mane ant rankų. Jie sakė: „Neverk, sese, niekas neleisime tavęs skriausti“. O po kiek laiko tapau prilyginta žmonijos priešams, žudikams ir kosmopolitams. Paskutinis mano sakinys buvo toks „Kodėl dabar tylite? Pažadėjote nebeleisti manęs skriausti, bet dabar tylite“. Aišku, tuo metu tie kareiviai buvo gana pagyvenę, bet juk jų vaikai ir anūkai galėjo būti tarp skustagalvių.

Sausio 27 dieną radijo reporteris paskambino ir pakvietė mane dalyvauti programoje (mane rekomendavo Laisvės Radijo 8 reporteriai, kuriems kelis kartus daviau interviu). Atėjau, tai buvo gana keista radijo transliacijų stotis, įsikūrusi vieno kambario bute. Reporteris paaiškino, kad daugiausiai jie dirba jūrininkams, taigi programas transliuoja naktį, nuo 1 iki 2 valandos. Tai buvo Aušvico koncentracijos stovyklos išlaisvinimo diena (tačiau atrodė, kad reporteris nieko nežino apie Holokaustą) ir Leningrado blokados nutraukimo diena. Reporteris paklausė: „Kaip turėčiau jus pristatyti klausytojams?“

„Esu prozos rašytoja ir buvusi geto bei dviejų koncentracijos stovyklų kalinė.“ (Nemėgstu visiems sakyti, kad esu Sovietinių rašytojų sąjungos narė, nes manau, kad Čechovas 9 ir Dostojevskis 10 buvo rašytojai, ne aš.) [Sovietinių rašytojų sąjunga buvo SSRS profesionalių rašytojų organizacija.] Jis paklausė „Ką?“. Supratau, kad jis nieko nežinojo apie getą. Jis pakvietė mane prie mikrofono ir paprašė papasakoti apie save. Pradėjau nuo vokiečių okupacijos ir kai prakalbau apie getą, jis paprašė: „Gal galite paaiškinti klausytojams, kas yra getas“.

Paaiškinau, bet supratau, kad aiškinu ne tik klausytojams, bet ir reporteriui. Tada jis paklausė: „O kuo buvote apsirengę?“ – „Negi nežinote, ką dėvi kaliniai, dryžuotus drabužius.“ – „Ar jie duodavo kaliniams apatinius?“ – „Sunku pavadinti tą skudurą apatiniais.“ 

Jis suprato, kad klausimų man geriau neuždavinėti. Baigiau savo monologą ir pradėjau kosėti, tad reporteris pasiūlė man arbatos. Nuėjome į virtuvę. Jis sakė, kad jaunai atrodau, nors tiek daug iškentėjau. Tada paprašė papasakoti apie higienos sąlygas stovykloje. „Ar suvokiate, apie ką klausiate? Aš keturias dienas išbuvau be sąmonės, tada iššliaužiau iš barako nusiprausti veido nešvariu sniegu.“ – „Ar gavote kokią nors medicinos pagalbą, pavyzdžiui, aspirino?“

Tas aspirinas mane pribaigė! Pasakiau: „Kodėl kalbate apie kažkokį aspiriną, jeigu visą parą veikė dujų kamera ir krematoriumas. Žmones ten vežė mirti!”.

Išėjau iš tos radijo stoties su jausmu, tarsi prarijusi varlę. Reporteriui buvo apie 30 metų, jis buvo žurnalistas, tačiau klausinėjo manęs ar koncentracijos stovyklose kaliniai gaudavo aspirino! Žinote, kas man šioje situacijoje padėjo? Tai buvo vokiečių žurnalistas iš Austrijos, paskambinęs mano po 2 ar 3 dienų. Jis gyveno Grace (mūsų budelis Franz Mourer irgi buvo iš Graco). Tas žurnalistas man pasakė, kad žino apie Mourer, kad jis buvo baudėjas Vilniaus gete. Tarp kitko, mano knygos austriškame leidime yra epilogas su žodžiais „Šiai knygai reikia Austrijos atstovo parašyto epilogo, nes dauguma paminėtų budelių buvo austrai“. Žurnalistas dalyvavo teismo procese prieš Mourer. Jis sakė, kad auditorija palaikė Mourer, nes dauguma iš jų priklausė SS-Verfugungstruppe.

Vokiečių žurnalistas puikiai kalbėjo rusiškai. Jis pasakė man, kad mirties nuosprendis Mourer (maždaug prieš 10 metų) buvo gana pagarbus. Žurnalistas norėjo atskleisti tikrąją Mourer esmę, bent jau po mirties. Todėl jis ieškojo gyvų liudininkų. Internete jis rado informaciją apie mano knygą ir nusprendė mane aplankyti. Daviau jam Mourer nuotrauką ir du jo įsakymus apie draudimus žydams.

SSRS turėjau pati rūpintis savo knygomis. Eidavau į Leningrado centrinį knygyną ir PRAŠIAU jų paimti mano knygas prekybai. Pradžioje jie leido atnešti penkias knygas. Vėliau paskambinau jiems ir paprašiau leisti atnešti dar dešimt. Tačiau vadybininkė atsiprašė, sakydama, kad naujasis direktorius leidžia priimti tik penkias knygas iš autorių. Ji pridėjo, kad jei knygos nebus parduotos per du mėnesius, jas grąžins autoriui.

Pergalės dieną 11 buvau pakviesta kalbėti dviejų kartų susitikime. Salė buvo padalinta į dvi dalis: buvę apsiausto Leningrado 12 gyventojai ir kaliniai vienoje pusėje ir mokiniai kitoje pusėje. Renginio vedėjas paprašė manęs paruošti savo knygą su autografu mokiniams. Jie apgailestavo, kad nupirko tik penkias knygas, nes knygyne daugiau nebuvo. Tada pasakojau savo istoriją klausytojams (juk žinote, kokie tai skausmingi prisiminimai).  Man uždavė daug klausimų, tame tarpe ir šį: „Ko tikitės iš jaunosios kartos?“ Atsakiau: „Visos mano viltys siejasi su jais“. Salė man plojo.

Peterburge yra Buvusių nepilnamečių koncentracijos stovyklų kalinių asociacija. Jos nariai pradėjo gauti reparacijas iš Vokietijos. Pernai metais, rugpjūčio pradžioje, dešimt buvusių kalinių iš Maskvos ir dešimt iš Peterburgo buvo pakviesti apsilankyti Vokietijoje. Bet suprantate, tik aš kalbėjau su žmonėmis Vokietijoje. Mūsų grupėje buvo įvairūs žmonės: vieni nieko nežinojo, kiti buvo per maži, kad kažką prisimintų. Buvau jau patyrusi kalbėtoja: prie sovietų valdžios mane kviesdavo kalbėti į gamyklas ir tam buvau pasiruošusi. Taip pat priklausiau Sovietų literatūros propagandos skyriui. Žodis „propaganda“ skamba baugiai, bet iš tikrųjų skyrius organizavo rašytojų susitikimus su skaitytojais.

Kažkas pajuokavo, kad Sovietų rašytojų sąjungoje buvo daugybė žydų, bet tik viena žydė.

2003 metais Prancūzijoje atsiėmiau specialų Holokausto atminimo prizą, pasirašytą Rotšildo. Jis turėjo sakyti kalbą, bet tą dieną chuliganai kažkur priemiestyje padegė sinagogą. Todėl, deja, mes nesusitikome ir Rotšildas atsiuntė man savo kalbos rusišką vertimą. Jis rašė, kad premija skiriama kartą per metus nuo 1998 metų ir pirmą kartą istorijoje ja buvo apdovanotas asmuo iš šalies, einančios demokratinės visuomenės link.

Tarp gerai žinomų politinių įvykių, galiu paminėti Vengrijos įvykius 13 ir Stalino mirtį. Tiesą sakant, neturėjau laiko gilintis į politiką. Visada daug mokiausi mokykloje, technikume ir pan.

Kai mano knyga buvo išleista, valdžia labai didžiavosi įrodžiusi, kad antisemitizmo pas mus nėra. Suprantate, tuo metu labai norėjau, kad knyga būtų išleista (iš vienos pusės) ir supratau, kad valdžiai pasitarnauju kaip figos lapelis pridengiantis jų antisemitizmą (iš kitos pusės). Jie išleido knygos apžvalgą ir ją išplatino. Jie sulaukė daug prašymų dėl knygos iš kitų šalių ir pradėjo pardavinėti žurnalinį knygos variantą (žurnalas „Zvezda“) už dolerius. Aš, aišku, negavau nieko: iki 1973 metų Sovietų Sąjungoje nebuvo autorinių teisių.

Įdomu paminėti, kad kaip knygos autorė aš turiu keturias skirtingas pavardes. Pagal pasą esu Rolnikaitė, Izraelyje hebrajiškai ir Varšuvoje jidiš kalba jie vadina mane Rolnik. Paryžiuje jie pažinojo mano dėdę (ant namo, kuriame jis gyveno, sienos kabo atminimo lentelė), todėl ten mane vadina Rolnikas (norėdami parodyti giminystės ryšį). Žinote, Maria Rolnikas Lietuvoje reiškia tą patį, ką Maria Ivanovas – moteriškas vardas plius vyriška pavardė. O Čekoslovakijoje mano pavardė pavirto į Rolnikassova. Taigi, aš turiu keturias pavardes kaip kokia nusikaltėlė! Erenburgas 14 buvo pirmasis, paklausęs apie mano vardą, kai su juo susitikau: jis manė, kad esu Miriam. Toks mano sesers vardas. Kai paklausiau Tėčio apie savo vardą, jis paaiškino, kad kai Mama laukėsi, ji norėjo sulaukti berniuko. Tuo metu mirė mano tėvo senelis ir tėvo tėvas paprašė jo pavadinti naujagimį Mošele. Taigi, gimus mergaitei, jie ją (mane) pavadino Maša (Maria). Viskas buvo labai paprasta ir kartu sudėtinga!

Karui pasibaigus iškart pradėjau studijuoti. Mano draugės sakydavo „Kodėl leidi laiką vakarinėje mokykloje? Eime į šokius! Reikia vesti vaikinus iš proto! Turime ištekėti! Aš atsakydavau: „Ne, neliksiu be mokslo tik dėl Hitlerio okupacijos, nė už ką. Tapsiu išsilavinusia“.

Todėl ištekėjau gana vėlai, jau būdama 32-jų. Mano vyras gyveno Leningrade, todėl po vedybų persikėlėme tenai. Mano vyrą vadino Semion Saveljevič Tsukernik. Jo tėvo vardas buvo Saul, bet dokumentuose rašė Savelij. Ištekėjau 1959 metais, prieš 45 metus. Pradžioje gyvenome komunaliniame bute 15 Majakovskio gatvėje. Bute buvo 8 kambariai ir 6 savininkai. Kai Prancūzijoje manęs paklausė apie mano butą, aš sąžiningai atsakiau, kad šešios šeimos gyveno kartu viename bute. Vertėja sustojo ir paklausė manęs, ar turėtų tai versti. Ir aš atsakiau, kad taip, nenorėjau klaidinti prancūzų, nors supratau, kad susitikime gali būti pašalinių ausų.  Per paskutinį susitikimą Prancūzijoje salė atsistojo man įėjus. Buvau susijaudinusi, taip susijaudinusi, jog ėjau praėjimu visa drebėdama. Žmonės man buvo labai malonūs. Po susitikimo, prie manęs priėjo vyras ir pradėjo liesti mano veidą. Paaiškėjo, kad tai aklas mano dėdės draugas, jis pasakė: „Jūsų stiprus smakras, visai kaip Mikhejaus“. Tą dieną man padovanojo didelę puokštę rožių.

Pasakiau jiems, kad kitą rytą išvykstu į Leningradą. Papasakojau, kad Leningrade yra paminklinės Piskariovo kapinės [Piskariovo kapinėse palaidoti per blokadą mirę Leningrado gyventojai]. Pasakiau Prancūzijos žmonėms, kad jų gėles nunešiu tenai. Taip ir padariau. Užuodžiau sniego ir rožių kvapą, buvo nuostabu. Tai įvyko 1967 metais.

Dabar esu Karo veteranų, buvusių Leningrado blokados gyventojų ir geto kalinių draugijos narė ir Buvusių nepilnamečių koncentracijos stovyklų kalinių asociacijos narė. Mes kartu švenčiame žydiškas šventes. Taip pat švenčiu mūsų išlaisvinimo iš fašistinės koncentracijos stovyklos metines. Kai ta diena, kovo 10-oji, artėja, mano atsiminimai atgyja. Prisimenu ilgą kelią iki stovyklos ir kaip kareivis stumia mane į duobę ir labai stiprų vėją. Prisimenu, kad norėjau užmigti ir miegoti kaip negyva iki pat tų baisių dienų galo. Teisybę sakant, visi mano baisūs prisiminimai liks su manim amžinai.

Žodynėlis

1 Vilniaus sugrąžinimas Lietuvai

Tarpukariu carinei Rusijai priklausęs daugiatautis Wilno miestas (Vilnius) tapo Lenkijos dalimi, o Lietuvos sostine buvo Kaunas. Pagal Molotovo – Ribentropo pakto (sovietų ir vokiečių sutartis dėl Rytų Europos pasidalinimo, 1939 metų rugpjūtis) slaptą protokolą Sovietų Armija užėmė Rytų Lenkiją (1939 metų rugsėjis) ir tris Baltijos valstybes Lietuvą, Latviją ir Estiją (1940 metų birželis). Didžiuma okupuotos Rytų Lenkijos teritorijos buvo padalinta tarp Sovietų Ukrainos ir Baltarusijos, o Vilnius buvo prijungtas prie Lietuvos ir tapo jos sostine. Taigi, nepriklausomos Lietuvos valstybės statuso praradimą papildė Vilniaus, kurį dauguma lietuvių laikė neatskiriama šalies dalimi,  sugrąžinimas.

2 Paneriai

Miškas prie Vilniaus, kuriame buvo nužudyta didžioji dalis Vilniaus žydų. Aukas šaudė SS ir vokiečių policija, padedama lietuvių kolaborantų. Vien per 1941 metų rugsėjo – spalio mėnesius buvo nužudyta daugiau kaip 12,000 žydų iš Vilniaus ir jo apylinkių.  Bendrai Paneriuose buvo nužudyta 70,000 – 100,000 žmonių, daugiausiai žydų.

3 Gulagas

Sovietų priverstinio darbo stovyklų sistema tolimuose Sibiro ir Tolimųjų Rytų rajonuose, pradėta kurti 1919 metais. Tačiau iki 1930-jų metų pradžios joje nebuvo itin daug kalinių. 1934 metais Gulagas, arba Vyriausioji pataisos darbų stovyklų valdyba, priklausiusi NKVD, jau turėjo kelis milijonus kalinių. Tarp kalinių buvo žudikai, vagys ir kiti kriminaliniai nusikaltėliai, taip pat politiniai ir religiniai disidentai. Valdant Stalinui, Gulago stovyklų įnašas į sovietinę ekonomiką buvo didžiulis. Gyvenimo sąlygos stovyklose buvo ypač rūsčios. Po Stalino mirties 1953 metais, žmonių skaičius stovyklose ženkliai sumažėjo, o kalinių sąlygos šiek tiek pagerėjo.

4 Molotovo – Ribentropo paktas

nepuolimo sutartis tarp Vokietijos ir Sovietų Sąjungos, žinoma kaip Molotovo – Ribentropo paktas. Įsitraukusi į pasienio karą su Japonija Tolimuosiuose Rytuose ir bijodama Vokietijos judėjimo vakaruose, Sovietų vyriausybė 1939 metais pradėjo slaptas derybas su Vokietija dėl nepuolimo sutarties. 1939 metais buvo netikėtai pranešta apie sudarytą Sovietų ir Vokietijos draugystės ir nepuolimo sutartį. Paktas turėjo slaptą protokolą dėl Lenkijos padalinimo ir dėl Sovietų ir Vokietijos įtakos sferų Rytų Europoje.

5 Vilniaus getas

95 procentai iš visų 265,000 Lietuvos žydų (254,000 žmonių) buvo nužudyti per nacių okupaciją, jokios kitos šalies žydų bendruomenė taip stipriai nenukentėjo per II Pasaulinį karą. Vokiečiai Vilnių užėmė 1941 metų birželio 26 dieną ir netrukus buvo įrengti du getai, kuriuos skyrė Vokiečių (Niemiecka) gatvė. Rugsėjo 6 dieną visi žydai buvo suvaryti į getus, iš pradžių atsitiktinai arba į pirmą getą, arba į antrą. Visą rugsėjo mėnesį Einsatzkommando būriai vykdė žydų žudynes. Vėliau amatininkai ir jų šeimos buvo perkelti į pirmą getą, visi kiti – į antrą. Per „Jom Kipuro“ akciją spalio 1 dieną buvo nužudyta 3000 žydų. Per kitas spalio mėnesio akcijas buvo likviduotas visas antrasis getas ir vėliau nužudyta dar 9000 žmonių. 1941 metų pabaigoje oficialus geto kalinių skaičius buvo 12,00 žmonių ir išaugo iki 20,000 žmonių 1943 metais dėl papildomų vežimų. 1943 metų rugpjūčio mėnesį virš 7000 žmonių buvo išsiųsta į įvairias darbo stovyklas Lietuvoje ir Estijoje. Už Vilniaus geto likvidavimą 1943 metų rugsėjo 23-24 dienomis buvo atsakingas Bruno Kittel. Aikštėje vyko atranka: galintys dirbti buvo išsiųsti į darbo stovyklas Latvijoje ir Estijoje, o kiti – į įvairias mirties stovyklas Lenkijoje. Iki 1943 metų rugsėjo 25 dienos tik 2000 žydų oficialiai liko Vilniuje mažose darbo stovyklose ir daugiau kaip 1000 slapstėsi už geto ribų ir galiausiai buvo sugauti. Likusieji gyvi dirbo „Kailio“ ir HPK fabrikuose iki 1944 metų birželio 2 dienos, kada 1800 iš jų buvo sušaudyti, o mažiau kaip 200 pavyko pasislėpti ir sulaukti kol Raudonoji Armija išlaisvino Vilnių 1944 metų liepos 13 dieną.

6 Didysis Tėvynės karas

1941 metų birželio 22 dieną, 5-tą valandą ryto nacistinė Vokietija nepaskelbusi karo užpuolė Sovietų Sąjungą. Prasidėjo taip vadinamas Didysis Tėvynės karas. Vokiečiams blitzkrieg‘o, žinomo Barbarosos operacijos vardu, metu beveik pavyko nugalėti Sovietų Sąjungą per kelis ateinančius mėnesius.  Netikėtai užkluptos, per pirmąsias vokiečių puolimo savaites sovietų pajėgos prarado ištisas armijas ir daugybę ginkluotės.  Iki 1941 metų lapkričio mėnesio vokiečių armija užėmė Ukrainos Respubliką, pradėjo Leningrado, antro didžiausio Sovietų Sąjungos miesto, blokadą ir grasino pačiai Maskvai. Sovietų Sąjungai karas baigėsi 1945 metų gegužės 9 dieną.

7 Michoelsas, Solomonas (1890-1948), tikroji pavardė Vovsi

žymus sovietų aktorius, režisierius ir pedagogas. Dirbo Maskvos valstybiniame žydų teatre, kurio meno vadovu tapo 1929 metais. Režisavo filosofinius, ryškius ir monumentalius spektaklius. Michoelso nužudymą užsakė Valstybės saugumo ministerija.

8 Laisvės radijas

Laisvės radijas, pradėjęs veikti 1953 metais, transliavo Sovietų Sąjungos teritorijoje tokias žinias ir informaciją, kokios dauguma sovietinių žmonių gauti negalėjo. Visą tą laiką Laisvės radijas jautė stiprų priešiškumą iš Sovietų Sąjungos ir jos sąjungininkių pusės, įskaitant nuolatinius radijo trikdžius, viešą kritiką, diplomatinius protestus ir net fizinius veiksmus prieš Laisvės radijo patalpas ir darbuotojus. 1976 metais Laisvės radijas susijungė su Radio Free Europe (RFE) stotimi ir sudarė vieną bendrą organizaciją RFE/RL, Inc.

9 Antonas Pavlovičius Čechovas (1960-1904)

rusų rašytojas ir dramaturgas. Šimtai Čechovo apsakymų atskleidžia žmogišką kvailumą, lėkštumo tragediją ir banalybės priespaudą. Savo veikėjus jis vaizduoja su užuojauta ir humoru aiškiu paprastu stiliumi ir realistinėmis smulkmenomis. Čechovo dėmesys žmogaus vidinei dramai buvo naujas reiškinys, padaręs didelę įtaką tiek Rusijos, tiek pasaulinei literatūrai. Jo, kaip dramaturgo, sėkmei padėjo Maskvos Dailės teatras, kuris pritaikė jo kūrinius scenai ir pastatė tokius spektaklius kaip „Dėdė Vania“ ir „Trys seserys“.

10 Fiodoras Dostojevskis (1821-1881)

rusų rašytojas ir žurnalistas, kurio psichologinis įsiskverbimas į žmogaus sielą padarė didžiulę įtaką XX amžiaus romanui. Jo romanai numatė daugelį vėlesnių Nyčės ir Froido idėjų. Dostojevskio romanuose gausu autobiografinių detalių, tačiau iš esmės juose nagrinėjamos moralės ir filosofijos temos. Jo romanų veikėjai dalinasi prieštaringais požiūriais ir idėjomis apie pasirinkimo laisvę, socializmą, ateizmą, gėrį ir blogį, laimę ir pan.

11 Pergalės diena Rusijoje (Gegužės 9-oji)

Liaudies šventė, skirta pergalės prieš nacistinę Vokietiją ir II Pasaulinio karo pabaigai paminėjimui, pagerbiant visų kare žuvusių Sovietų Sąjungos žmonių atminimą.

12 Leningrado blokada

1941 metų rugsėjo 8 dieną vokiečiai visiškai apsupo Leningradą ir prasidėjo jo blokada, trukusi iki 1944 metų sausio 27 dienos. Blokada miesto gyventojams reiškė neįtikėtinus sunkumus ir nepriteklius. Per beveik 900 blokados dienų šimtai tūkstančių mirė nuo bado, šalčio ir ligų.

13 1956

žymi Revoliuciją, kuri prasidėjo 1956 metų spalio 23 dieną prieš sovietinę valdžią ir komunistus Vengrijoje. Ją pradėjo studentų ir darbininkų demonstracijos Budapešte, kurių metu buvo nuversta gigantiška Stalino statula. Nuosaikus komunistų lyderis Imre Nagy buvo paskirtas ministru pirmininku ir pažadėjo reformas ir demokratiją. Sovietų Sąjunga išvedė savo karines pajėgas, kurios buvo dislokuotos Vengrijoje nuo II Pasaulinio karo pabaigos, bet įvedė vėl, kai Imre Nagy paskelbė, kad Vengrija išeis iš Varšuvos sutarties organizacijos ir vykdys neutralumo politiką. Sovietų kariuomenė numalšino sukilimą lapkričio 4 dieną ir pradėjo masines represijas ir areštus. Apie 200,000 vengrų pabėgo iš šalies. Imre Nagy ir jo šalininkai buvo nubausti mirties bausme. Iki 1989 metų, kai žlugo komunistinis režimas, 1956 metų Revoliucija buvo laikoma kontrrevoliucija.

14 Ilja Grigorjevičius Erenburgas (1891-1967)

žymus rusų žydų rašytojas, poetas ir žurnalistas, jaunystę praleidęs Prancūzijoje. Jo pirmas svarbus romanas „Nepaprasti Chulijo Churenito nuotykiai“ (1922) yra šiuolaikinės Europos civilizacijos satyra. Tarp kitų jo romanų yra „Atlydys“ (1955), atvirai kalbantis apie Stalino režimą ir davęs vardą represinės politikos susilpnėjimo laikotarpiui po Stalino mirties.

15 Komunalinis butas

Sovietų valdžia norėjo pagerinti gyvenamo būsto sąlygas rekvizuodama „perteklinį gyvenamą plotą“ iš turtingų šeimų po 1917 metų revoliucijos. Butas būdavo padalinamas kelioms šeimoms, kiekviena šeima užimdavo vieną kambarį ir dalindavosi bendra virtuve, tualetu bei vonia su kitais gyventojais. Nuolat trūkstant gyvenamosios vietos miestuose, komunaliniai butai egzistavo ištisus dešimtmečius. Nepaisant 1960-siais pradėtos valstybinės naujų daugiabučių namų statybos ir komunalinių butų likvidavimo programos, komunaliniai butai vis dar gyvuoja.

ŠALIS:

Rusija

MIESTAS:

Sankt Peterburgas

Maria (Masha) Rolnikaite

Maria (Masha) Rolnikaite
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Olga Vladimirova
Date of interview: February 2006

Maria (Masha) Grigoryevna Rolnikaite lives together with her husband in a cozy two-room apartment in one of the new districts of Saint Petersburg.

Before the interview, she strongly recommended to read the book This Is the Truth written by her. One of its parts is called I Have to Tell You This. In point of fact it is a diary Masha kept being in Vilnius ghetto and later in 2 fascist concentration camps. The book was published all over the world in many languages. It gives all people an opportunity to get to know terrible truth of those days. 

From the very beginning of our meeting we are astonished at Masha’s strength of mind and courage. You can judge about it from her appearances, from every word and opinion of her. She is a person of affability, humor, and great interest to outward things.

Masha often appealed to the facts recorded in her book: she did not want to tell terrible details of her life again, because (according to her) each of those memoirs left its mark on her.

My family background

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family background

Unfortunately I know nothing about my great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers. I know only that they all came from Lithuania. Daddy used to say that his grandfather was a water carter, but possibly it was a joke. Most of my relatives lived in the small shtetl Plunge near Klaypeda. [Klaypeda is the third large city in Lithuania, it is situated near the Baltic sea on both sides of the River Dane]. I remember that my paternal grandmother’s name was Hana Rolnikene.

My paternal grandfather’s name was Itsik Abel Rolnik. In Polish rolnik means a farmer, but as far as I know there were no farmers among our family members. He was an old religious Jew wearing beard and observing traditions. He was an owner of a small shop. My grandmother Hana was very vigorous and witty. She gave birth to 10 children and brought all of them up. Unfortunately not all of her children survived: some of them died before the war. At the beginning their shop was very small: buttons, ribbons, etc. (dry goods). Later they added fabrics and finished articles. Grandmother told me that under the counter she had a wooden bucket (where women used to wash linen). In that bucket she kept her baby, she rocked that makeshift cradle with her foot and sold goods at the same time. The only break she had was a short time in small pantry to breast-feed her baby. That was the way she brought up her children!

My grandfather was religious: he attended synagogue. By nature he was very silent and sedate, and my grandmother (on the contrary) was very witty. Here is an example. She had got a brother who lived in the neighboring city. He used to send her letters, but wrote a miserable scratch. Therefore my grandmother sent him the following message: come to our place and read your letter!

In 1938 the shop passed into the hands of my uncle Berl (my father's brother). Grandmother did not rely on his ability to be engaged in commerce; therefore she poked fun at him: ‘After my death, make a small hole in my coffin, so that I will be able to watch you doing without me.’ In 1940 the shop was nationalized and my grandmother could not stand it. That shop was her brainchild and they dared to take it away from her. Authorities took away everything, so when my uncle left the shop for ever, he was carrying in his hands a worn through teapot (they used it to water the floor while sweeping). He said ‘This is the only thing we possess now.’ Grandmother died on January 3, 1941. And nationalization campaign was finished by autumn of 1940 (when Lithuania became a Soviet Republic 1). She died in her sleep from cerebral haemorrhage. At that time she was 64 years old. Her heart was so strong that relatives had time to send for Daddy and other sons. They arrived and had time to pay the last tribute to her. Daddy made a speech during the funeral, though it was not customary. He spoke about her merits, about what relatives were grateful to her for.

Grandmother and grandfather sent my father to cheder, when he became 12 years old. It was situated in the neighboring small town. But Daddy quickly got disappointed in it and came home afoot. Later he finished a secondary school and went to Riga to study in gymnasia. Parents were able to buy him a black suit and a tie and that was all. He went to Riga having no money. Therefore Daddy worked as a porter and as a loader. When his trousers became full of holes, he made patches from his tie. He managed to finish that gymnasia in Riga (for some reason it appeared to be a Russian gymnasia). Daddy decided to become a lawyer and study at a university in Germany. He sent 12 applications to 12 universities and received 12 refusals. Nevertheless he left for Berlin and managed to press for an audience with one of rectors.

It is funny that a postage stamp played the decisive role in the way he became a student. Daddy came to that rector, said that he was from Lithuania and wanted to enter the University. The rector asked ‘Are you from Lithuania? Recently we had differences with my colleague regarding Lithuania and Latvia. Is it the same state?’ Daddy answered that it was not true, that he had a letter from his parents with a stamp of Lithuania. After that the rector allowed Daddy to become an external student. Later he passed through examinations and became an internal student. He studied in Berlin and Leipzig. He graduated from the faculty of law and later from the College of German Language and Literature which prepared teachers of German language and literature for foreigners. I asked him ‘Daddy, what for?’ And he answered ‘It was very interesting for me.’ But the knowledge of German language appeared to be very useful, because later we got a nanny from Germany and she spoke German with us. It is useful for me now, too (many years later). Some time ago it seemed to me that I forgot everything. But when they published my book in Germany, I went there and spoke poor German, but managed to answer questions. By the way I read my manuscript in Yiddish (according to their request).

Mom was a housewife. She had four children and trembled over us like every Jewish mother. Her name was Tayber Koganayte.

I can’t recall my Mom’s father, but I remember her mother. Unfortunately I can’t recollect her name. She was very religious. She lived in Telshe, but when she visited us, she used to be sitting and praying all the time. She also was very displeased if we broke rules during Shabbath. My mother's father died before I was born, his surname was Kogan.

Growing up

I was born in 1927 in Klaypeda.

In my childhood I liked to sing and wanted to become a singer. I sang so much that even had got problems with my throat. I also wrote verses. At the age of 9 I decided to write a novel and bought a thick writing-book. I called my novel Destiny and wrote the name on the book cover. I started with funeral ceremony of a countess: carriages, black curtains, etc. But I gave it up quickly. Anyway I wanted to write all the time. At school we used to have albums where we wrote rhymes to each other. I remember my verses (it is still a pleasure for me): when you become an old woman and an old man is beside you, put on your glasses and read these words. In Lithuanian it was rhymed and sounded well. I also kept a diary since my childhood.

We had a housemaid, though Mom did not work. Sunday was the housemaid’s day off; therefore we (together with my elder sister Miriam, who was 3 years older than me) had to clean our rooms ourselves. Being rather little, we had to wash, iron and sew white collars and cuffs to our school uniform. We also were obliged to clean our footwear. If we got up late, our housemaid helped us, but later she terrorized us ‘I’ll give a report to your Daddy!’

Daddy kept an order everywhere. Mom’s chief concern was to feed us. And Daddy used to say ‘We have got bread, butter, tomatoes, and salt.’ He also told us that we (girls) had to get prepared for future life, to learn to cook from Mom. Daddy worked alone, therefore his financial situation was not very good: he had got 4 children, his family also had a housemaid. I had a younger brother Ruvel (he was born in 1934) and a younger sister Raya (she was born in 1936). When somebody asked Daddy why he had so many children, he always answered he was waiting for a son.

I visited a Jewish kindergarten and later a Jewish junior high school. In 1940 it was closed and I became a pupil of a Lithuanian grammar school. But at home we spoke only Yiddish. I still can write in Yiddish. In ghetto and in fascist concentration camps I kept my diary in Yiddish. Till now I always indicate in different forms that my mother tongue is Yiddish, though I astonish people around me. During the general census [that all-Union national census was carried out in 1989] they asked me about my mother tongue and I said it was Jewish. The employee was surprised and noticed that my husband and I spoke Russian. I explained that we spoke Russian because he was not able to speak Yiddish. The employee was surprised that I knew 3 languages: Yiddish, Lithuanian and Russian. I am not sure that he wrote it down, because filling the questionnaire he used a pencil, and nobody knows what was written there later.

We studied at Lithuanian grammar school together with my sister. At that time people observed traditions and respected religious neighbors. There were manifestations of anti-Semitism (some people blamed Jews for nailing Christ to the cross), but state anti-Semitism did not exist. For instance every Saturday in our grammar school we had the right not to fulfill written tasks, teachers did not ask us. We knew that during the main Jewish holidays we were allowed not to go to school.

At that time at schools pupils were taught religion (before the communists came to power). In our classroom a crucifix hang above the blackboard. In the morning our teacher used to come into the classroom, turn his face to the crucifix and pray. All pupils prayed, too (except us). And after the last lesson the teacher also ordered pupils to pray. A pupil on duty had to say grace. For me it was always funny to listen to Te Deum, if the pupil on duty managed to have got bad marks that day.

They taught us basics of Jewish religion, too (each Friday). All pupils from the 1st till the 8th form had to study it. One day I clashed with the teacher of religion, because he got to know that my father was not religious at all. Moreover during Sabbath he saw my Daddy going home in a cab. So it caused a scandal and the teacher refused to give me a good mark. According to rules, in that case I was not allowed to be moved up into the next form. By the way I was an excellent pupil (only Art lessons were difficult for me). A Roman Catholic priest was our form-master, therefore I went to him. He ordered me to learn by heart several sacred songs. I sang them and he gave me an excellent mark. The conflict was settled.

When a schoolgirl, I made friends with a daughter of Burgomaster. I remember our teacher of French language. She was a real lady, she visited Paris every year. We (girls) watched her dresses very attentively. You remember that Daddy prepared us for studying in Paris and taught us French at home. I was an advanced learner in compare with our school program. Therefore when our French teacher was too lazy to teach us, she said ‘Rolnikaite, read and translate.’ Lithuanian language also came easy to me (other languages, too). In general I studied without special difficulties. I know a Jewish saying: she could do homework standing on one foot.  You know, I was able to stand on one foot and write. Once Daddy came home and saw me lying on the sofa (my feet on the wall) and learning history.

In Russian there are 2 different words: a Jew and a Zhid. And in Lithuanian, as well as in Polish, they have only Zhid. Recently, my former classmate’s husband said ‘…and a person of your Nationality’. I corrected him: Zhid. I understood that he wanted to show himself an internationalist. He was afraid to hurt my feelings, but I corrected him. I never concealed my Nationality.

However at school I identified myself as a Jewess. For instance, in Lithuanian language accentuation is very important. If a person makes wrong accent in a word (especially in numerals), it means that he speaks poor Lithuanian. Our teacher dictated, and we had to catch the words by ear, and the accent was very important! And I managed: I wrote by ear. I was the only pupil in our class who used to get excellent marks. And our teacher said about me ‘Lithuanian is not her mother tongue, but she writes better than all of you.’ So you see that sometimes we realized that we were different. But nobody told it to our face.

Daddy trusted us. In Plunge there was only one car with a driver, and a lot of cab drivers. Our grammar school was situated far from our house (almost in suburb), near the cemetery. It was frightful to come back home in the evening, and Daddy gave us money to hire a cab. He only asked us to come back together. My sister was already grown-up, and they (young ladies) were going and discussing something, while I had to follow them silently.

I had a program in my mind: to go to Paris together with my sister and enter a University there. My sister was 3 years older than me. I had to work hard at school, but sometimes I stayed on a skating rink too long or spent too much time with my friend. In that case Daddy used to say ‘When you come to Sorbonne, they will ask you questions. What will you answer? I guess you will tell them only what your Tsypka knows.’ For some reason he called my friend Tsypka! But he never punished me or moralized. When we were going to be late home from different parties, we never told lies. And Daddy never ordered us to come back at a certain time, he only waited for us. I guess he did not sleep and waited till the door opened.

Of course when Soviets came to power, we had to forget about Sorbonne. By the way my grandmother was already going to give money for our studies, and my uncle who lived in France was ready to find a cheap boarding house in Paris for my sister and me. But our plans failed. Under Communists our life changed completely.

Regarding Jewish traditions, it was my grandfather who observed them especially strictly. Therefore we celebrated Pesach and I always asked those 4 questions. After that I used to get 1 kg of nuts. Together with my grandmother we lighted Sabbath candles. And though Mom was not very religious (as well as Daddy), she observed kashrut: separated meat and dairy food. And when my grandfather visited us, he used to drink tea only with jam, because glasses were considered to be not for dairy and not for meat. Together with my grandmother we went to synagogue, and I saw that men and women were separated there. Grandmother prayed. When on Rosh Hashanah blowing of the shofar opened the sky to let people’s requests go straight there, everybody cried, and my sister and I did not understand the reason. During Yom Kippur Jews prayed in memory of dead people and grandmother did not allow me and my sister to be present in the synagogue. By the way, in ghetto there was no synagogue, only an apartment for praying. And rabbi forbade praying in memory of Jews taken by fascists to Ponary 2. He considered it to be a sin, because some of them could be alive! Sometimes it happened that after execution by shooting some Jews remained alive, got out from under corpses and came back in ghetto. At first fascists fired without aiming and people fell down only wounded. But later they gave an order to cover ditches with burnt lime, so that no one was able to get out.

My father's brother Berl worked in that shop we already spoke about. My aunt (his younger sister) got married in Riga and was killed there in ghetto. Her husband was shot among the first Jewish men. She had got 2 children (one of them was a baby), therefore she could not work. They died there from starvation. Much later 2 women from Riga ghetto told us about her.

Another father's brother was Mikhey. He finished his grammar school and left for Paris knowing nothing about French language. His first letters were very sad and melancholic. But a year later he entered Sorbonne. He was very talented. Later he became a well-known lawyer and all his colleagues were surprised that he was not French: by that time he spoke excellent French. In 1938 he managed to arrive to the wedding ceremony of his sister. He crossed Germany to reach Riga, and we all worried about him, because Hilter was already in power.

My uncle Berl (the shop owner) was exiled to Siberia 3 together with his family. They managed to get back only in 1956 or 1957. Later my uncle, my aunt and their daughter died. Their son lives in Israel now.

Plunge was a very nice small town! There was a large park of prince Oghinsky (relative of that composer Oghinsky, an author of the famous polonaise). The park was open for everyone. In the park there was a skating rink, where we used to skate. There were a lot of trees in the town.

When Hitler came to power, they broadcasted his speech. As radio receiver was only in our house, neighbors came to us to listen it. And the nanny of my little brother (a local Lithuanian girl) did not understand Hitler and used bad words, because Hitler disturbed the child who wanted to sleep.

Daddy was very sorry that we lived in a small town Plunge, a country town. He wanted us to get good education of European level. But in 1940 according to Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact 4 Vilnius became Lithuanian, and we moved there. And it saved our lives, because later during occupation (during the war time) 1,800 Jews of Plunge were gathered in the synagogue, taken out of town to a cemetery for atheists and executed by shooting. Fascists suggested Jews to deny Judaism to save their lives.

Some young people did, but nevertheless all of them were shot. In Plunge there is a monument on the place of execution. Certainly it were relatives of those Jews who gathered money for it, and Soviet authorities of Plunge permitted it. Inscription on the monument was written in Yiddish, Lithuanian and Russian languages.

Before the war our family was rather large. But my grandfather, the grandmother's sister, her husband with two daughters, and my father's cousin perished in Plunge. My uncle (my mother's brother) was killed in a small town Telshe. [Telshe is a town in Lithuania, situated 200 km far from Vilnius.] When Jews of Telshe were carried to the place of execution, he managed to escape. But fascists caught him and shot individually, so to say. They forced him to dig a grave for himself. Later some Lithuanians (witnesses) told us that he had gone mad: he understood that he was digging a grave for himself and went crazy (but it is impossible to be proved). And my aunt (his wife and 2 daughters) were killed in Shaulay ghetto. [Shaulay is a town in Lithuania.]

Daddy counted 49 members of our family lost during the war: his and mother’s cousins, sisters, children …

In our family only Daddy (he was at the front line), my elder sister Miriam and I survived. Miriam was in the Vilnius ghetto 5, but she managed to survive.

In September 1943 hitlerites retreated and the Red Army approached Smolensk. At that time Miriam managed to escape from the ghetto. She hoped to find some kind people to hide her or make false documents for her. She even hoped to help us (her family) out of the ghetto. At that time the situation in the ghetto was rather calm, but soon hitlerites appeared there. They read out the order of Gestapo chief about evacuation of Jews from the Vilnius ghetto. Jews had to be moved to 2 camps for work: one in Estonia, another one in Lithuania. Evacuation went off very quickly: everything was finished in 4 hours. Therefore I knew nothing about Miriam until 1945.

During the war

On June 22, 1941 the war 6 burst out. The same day Vilnius was bombed. The Soviet army started its running fight. Hitlerites were just about to occupy the city. My parents knew that fascists hated the Jews. Besides they had another reason for anxiety: my father had cooperated with the Soviet authorities. Parents decided to leave for some place far inland, where invaders would not reach us. Father went to buy tickets, and we (Mom and 4 children) remained at home waiting for him. We waited very long, watching people with their belongings, Soviet tanks, motor vehicles walking and driving by our windows. At last we decided to move to the railway station to find Dad. At the station we got to know that there would be no more trains: it was a terrible misfortune. People informed each other about the last train which had been destroyed recently by bombing immediately after its departure. We did not find Dad and decided to walk out of the city hoping to catch a car. But it appeared to be a hard task to walk being languid with the heat (children of 5 and 7 years old did not manage). So we walked some time, and then went back. There we found out that in our absence Daddy came home and left again to search a car. Fascist armies entered the city that very night. Daddy did not return.

One of the first orders of the new authority was the order they posted up on the restaurants and cafe doors: ‘No Jews allowed’. I went to our school to receive the school-leaving certificate of my elder sister Mira, and other documents. The school was dirty and ruined. A boy from the 9th grade approached me and said ‘Get out! Stop stinking at our school!’ But at that moment Yonaytis, our teacher called me. He shook hands with me, asked me what I came for, went to the school office together with me, and helped me to find the school-leaving certificate and our birth-certificates. That person did much for us later (when we were in the ghetto). He gave us food and money, risking his life.

Soon hitlerites put into use their own money and ordered to check in all radio receivers. Later they ordered every Jew to wear a special sign: a yellow square and a circle with letter J inside it. Together with Mom we made those signs out of an old yellow coverlet. Jews were obliged to bring to the commandant's office money, gold goods and other jewelry. But there came more frightening news: armed patrols arrested men in the city streets and put them into prison. At first people thought that from prison men were carried away to Ponary (to a labor camp), but soon we found out that there was no camp there, in Ponary people were executed by shooting.

On July 21, a month after Germans came to Vilnius I reached the age of 14. I put on a blue silk dress (no sign on it!) and seemed to be so beautiful! Beginning of the war was the end of my childhood. Only my diary connected me with my previous life. I kept my diary being a schoolgirl (it was in fashion!) and I went on doing it during the war. In the ghetto there was shortage of paper, but we used to occupy old apartments and it was possible to find some old writing-books. One day I was presented an accounting book, and I was happy to find blank pages in it! At present I am surprised that at that time nobody laughed at me when I tried to be a chronicler. On the contrary, my relatives used to ask me ‘Masha, have you written about it?’ We all slept together on the floor near the window. I hold my notes on the window-sill. Mom often said ‘Learn it by heart! Your notes will repeat your fate.’

The next order of fascists forbade Jews to use sidewalks (they were allowed to move only along roadways) and all kinds of transport, including cabs.

On September 6, 1941 fascists enclosed several narrow streets in the city center and moved all inhabitants away. Jews were forced to move to their houses. That was the way Vilnius ghetto appeared. Our family also moved there. We lived penned up together with other families: 18 persons in a small room. There was not enough place to sleep. A girl slept on the table, another one slept under the table. There was a girl who had to sleep in the bath. Mom started working at a sewing workshop. We were given ration cards and received only 125 grammes of bread and some black peas per day. It was forbidden to bring food into the ghetto. If somebody did, it could cost him his head.

In the ghetto fascists often carried out special actions: i.e. taking people for executions. In autumn of 1941 those actions were the most mass ones: 3-5 thousand people were executed during every action. And later when only the necessary number of handicraftsmen remained in the ghetto, they started terrifying people by unexpected searches. Soldiers rushed into any apartment and arranged a search. They did their best to find clothes without the yellow star, bread baked differently (in the ghetto they made special bread that looked like clay). If they found it, they immediately took all inhabitants of the apartment away. Certainly nobody ever saw them again.

Some news from the front line seldom reached us. With great pleasure we got to know that Germans ran away from Moscow and already left Kalinin [a city near Moscow, now Tver]. The German army suffered heavy losses and its soldiers suffered from frost very much. Therefore hitlerites decided to dress warmly at our expense: they ordered us to bring to the commandant's office all fur coats, fur collars and fur cuffs. And again death penalty was promised for those who refused.

The ghetto was some sort of a small state. In the ghetto there were different offices responsible for distribution of ration cards and rooms (or rather corners in the rooms). There was a special department taking care of orphans (several boarding schools were organized). There were schools and even a grammar school for children, but it was half empty: not because there were no children, but because they all had to work. There were a prison, a hospital, a drugstore with a poor set of medicines. In the ghetto there was even an underground organization which fought against fascism. One day 3 activists of that organization I. Kaplan, A. Khvoynik and A. Big got to know about liquidation of the ghetto and decided to leave for the forest through a drain-pipe. But unfortunately they lost their way underground and got out in the city center. Soldiers seized them and hang. When my book was ready for the first publication, the editor said ‘People you named were not listed as partisans, eliminate this episode.’ - ‘But they were the organization members’ I insisted. But nothing could move him ‘Tomorrow they will come to ask for a special pension!’ - ‘Do not worry, they will not come: fascists hang them’ I calmed him. But at that time I could not think about the future book and even about my possible survival.

Persecutions of fascists knew no limit. One day they took all old men away from the ghetto. They said they wanted to bring them to a recreation house to feed and treat. Relatives became suspicious and refused to let them go. But old people were taken away by force. They were really fed well and photographed during the first 2 days. And then they all were executed by shooting.

In the spring I found a job. For the most part we worked outside the ghetto. At first I worked on the fields of an old rich person. I had to carry hundred buckets of water a day to water plants. Later I started working at a knitting workshop, where women added fingers to gloves by knitting. Later I went to a furniture factory to polish skis. 

That was they way we lived in the ghetto: dying from starvation and cold, and waiting for death. It seems strange, but in the ghetto there was a chorus. I was its member. We sang in Hebrew and in Yiddish. The head of the chorus also created a symphonic orchestra. Very few musicians survived: they were considered to be the least useful and fascists killed them first of all. But nevertheless the orchestra appeared and together with chorus prepared the Beethoven's Ninth symphony for performance.

With great pleasure we got to know that hitlerites went into mourning for 3 days: they grieved about their armies defeated near Stalingrad. Later we knew from rumors that Kharkov [now Kharkiv, Ukraine], Rostov-on-Don and many other cities had been liberated. But all those cities were situated so far from Vilnius!

People got to know that in the neighboring shtetls hitlerites shot about 3 thousand local Jews. A lot of partisan groups appeared in the neighboring woods, therefore hitlerites were afraid that local Jews would certainly contact them. So they decided to execute a part of the Jews, and to move the rest of them to the Vilnius or Kaunas ghetto. But later they changed their mind and killed all of them! Only a few men managed to escape; they penetrated into our ghetto and told us how those Jews were shot in the wood near the large holes dug beforehand.

At that time my sister Mira managed to escape from the ghetto. Some kind people promised to hide her. Soon all inhabitants of the ghetto lost their jobs. The ghetto became completely isolated from the world. But nevertheless from rumors we got to know that at the Vilnius railway station there appeared an inscription JUDENFREI (it meant that the city was free from Jews). But in fact we were still alive! We understood that the countdown had begun.

One September evening all inhabitants of the ghetto were informed that they would be evacuated to two working camps: in Estonia and in Lithuania. Evacuation would last only 1 day. They permitted to take a small number of clothes with us.

My brother Ruvel learned to read in the ghetto. He was very proud of it, and used to say that Daddy would be pleased. Ruvel was afflicted that we were going to take only clothes (no books). ‘What shall I read there?’ he asked. Mom answered ‘You will read when we get our liberty.’

At last we got ready to leave. There were lots of people in the streets. The crowd was gloomy. Together with other people we reached the ghetto gates and went out. After a while we reached a ravine and were ordered to stop. There the large crowd of people spent a night in the rain. Next day hitlerites ordered people to get out from the ravine. They let people out through the gate one by one, and Mom ordered me to go first. A soldier seized me and pushed aside. Mom and two children remained behind the gate. I tried to get back to my family and suddenly I heard that Mom begged the soldier not to let me back in. She said that I was young and could work well. Then she shouted to me ‘Live, my child! At least you alone!’ And she lifted children a little so that I could see them. And I saw them. For the last time in my life!

1,700 people including me were moved to the railway station and took aboard the train. We arrived in a concentration camp near Shaulay.

My camp life began, however it could hardly be called a life. Newcomers were given clothes. I got a silk ball-dress. It was decorated with an artificial red flower and had very low neckline. Long time passed until I managed to get a needle and alter the dress a little. I worked at the building site: I had to peck stones off and push heavy tubs full of stones. We suffered from terrible starvation, persecution and beating; we felt pain of death. In the camp there was an inscription ‘You do not live to work, you work to live’. Hitlerites arranged the so called selections, i.e. sorting of people for subsequent execution. Till now I do not understand why I remained alive: they were going to kill everyone younger than 18 and older than 30. I was 17, but probably there was some mistake in the card index. In the meantime Soviet armies were already near Riga: we heard explosions and bombardments and saw airplanes flying in the sky. We hoped to be liberated soon, but instead Germans forced us to move to Germany (to Stutthof). They transported us by a military steamship (it was loaded with some equipment) - in the cold.

Shtutthof concentration camp was one of the oldest: it was built by Polish railwaymen as early as in 1938-1939. The camp reminded a market of slaves, because owners of farms used to come there. We had to strip to the skin and walk by employers showing our muscles. We were covered with abscesses because of terrible starvation. I said in German ‘Ich bin stark (I am still strong)’ and showed my muscles though there was nothing to be shown. A nearly blind old farmer looked at me and took me to his farm. There I worked about 4 months. I slept in the pigsty together with pigs. The owner locked us at night, we had no days off. But at the same time I was lucky to get there: it was possible to eat some potatoes from the pigs’ ration without the owner’s knowledge. He gave us a loaf of bread for a week and used to warn ‘If you work badly, I’ll send you not back to the camp, but directly to a crematorium.’

In November after harvesting we got back to the camp. We did not leave camp for work because of typhus epidemic. We got to know that there was fire in the gas chamber, therefore hitlerites poisoned the so-called soup (it was something like warm water, and it was a fortune to find a small slice of rotten cabbage in it) they fed us with. They did not give us enough water, therefore we ate dirty snow. So I got ill with typhus, too. But after a while I got better (by a miracle!). My neighbors told me that when I was lying on the floor unconscious, I sang loudly and abused Germans left and right. I felt ashamed: ‘My Daddy is a lawyer, nobody in our family used bad language…’

Suddenly when all of us lost hope to survive, Germans ordered to evacuate those who could walk to another camp. I was not able to walk, but I knew that those who did not endure torture would be killed. And I crawled out. And I walked. It was the road of death. My companions in misfortune supported me; they said that it was a pity to leave such a young girl. On our way we managed to perceive snow-covered bunkers full of potatoes or beet. Neither kicks nor shots could stop us. We fell down, raked snow aside by benumbed hands, broke off the ground and snatched beet away. When we left, several prisoners remained on the snow killed. We spent nights in sheds en route. My feet swelled up. I was afraid to take off my boots... Later we understood that Germans took us away from the advancing Red Army.

One night we were put into a huge shed or a stable. In the deep of night we heard that someone was hammering on the door ‘Hey, women, get out, Red Army is here!’ At first nobody believed, we thought it was a provocation: Germans wanted to force us run out and kill by shooting in the back. Nobody of 700 women moved. The voice continued ‘If you are so silly, go on sitting here!’ And he disappeared. It seemed to us unbelievable! That soldier told tank crews about us. They used a tank to break the door, and women ran away from the shed. I could not walk, could not get myself up. I was lying on the floor and waiting to be trampled underfoot. At last Red Army men came into the shed. They lifted me and carried me to the village in their arms. I embraced them and started crying (for the first time!). Tears were rolling down my cheeks. One of those soldiers said ‘Do not cry, sister, we will stand up for you!’ And I had only one idea: I survived! It happened on March 10, 1945.

When I returned to Vilnius from the concentration camp (in 1945), I saw the city in ruins. I had no problems with my neighbors. At my work (I was an editor at the Vilnius Municipal Arts Department) my chief Banaytis was a very decent person and he paid attention to my emotional experience regarding my nationality. He said ‘Don’t worry, here we pay no attention to nationalities.’ I didn’t come across any manifestations of anti-Semitism. Among my colleagues there was a chief accountant - a Jew, a chief manager - also a Jew. My next job I got at the State Vilnius Philharmonic Society: there were many Jews, Poles, Lithuanians. Their hatred against Russians forced them to be nice to local Jews.

After the war

When I returned to Vilnius after all ordeals of the war time, I met Daddy in the street by chance. He already knew that Miriam remained alive. After the war she became a student of the Faculty of Law at the Vilnius University.

Now she lives in Klaypeda. Her husband tragically died: he drowned when she was 39 years old. She has got 2 sons and 5 granddaughters. And she still works (notwithstanding her age). Together with her children my sister visits our town Plunge every year on July 18 (the day of execution of Jews in Plunge).

Unfortunately after the end of the war Daddy lost hope that his wife and children Raya and Ruvel remained alive. All that hastened his death. I guess he was unhappy. Half a year before his death he left his work, because a doctor said ‘If you go on working you will fall down dead!’

After the end of the war we spent a lot of time in Palanga together with Daddy. He often recollected the past. Once he reminded that when we were children, he got ill, but nevertheless (having running temperature) went to his office to work, because he wanted to show us the necessity of struggle, the necessity of work. I said that at that time we understood nothing. Daddy also often explained to us that it was very important for a person to become educated. Again, at that time I could not understand him. When Hitler came to power, I thought it was only important to have a rifle in your hands.

Daddy considered a hospital and a prison to be places where people can live. He was full of humor. I also started with comic stories. When my first book was published in Moscow, Misha Raytiz, a winner of Lenin premium wrote a foreword to my book. [Lenin premium in the USSR was one of the highest forms of encouragement of citizens for their achievements in the field of science, technique and arts. Lenin premium was awarded annually since 1925.]

My second book was published in 1967. I also made translation of Sayanov’s play. He was a writer, a winner of Stalin premium. [Stalin premium in the USSR was one of the highest forms of encouragement of citizens for their achievements in the field of science, technique and arts. Stalin premium was awarded annually since 1939.] At that time all books of writers who were awarded Stalin premium, had to be translated into languages of the USSR republics. While translating, I suffered much, because my Russian was poor (I never learnt it). Sometimes I could not find author’s words in the dictionary. But nevertheless I managed to translate it and presented the play at the entrance exams at the Literary College. I became its student. 

Regarding the first manifestations of state anti-Semitism, I can mention murder of Solomon Mikhoels 7.

I also remember that at that time a murdered girl was found. It was so terrible for me that I decided not to use municipal transport but to walk everywhere I needed, because I was afraid to be beaten black and blue by passengers: they said that the girl was killed by Jews who took her blood to make matzot. It was really terrible.

I wrote an article for Literaturnaya newspaper. [Literaturnaya newspaper was a weekly literary and political edition in the USSR.] I named that article Whither Goest Thou? There I wrote that one fine day during the war Soviet soldiers liberated prisoners of a concentration camp and carried me out of it in their arms. They said ‘Don’t cry, sister, we will never let you be offended.’ So after a time I became a companion-in-arms of enemies of people, murderers and cosmopolitans. My last sentence was the following ‘Why are you silent now? You promised never let me be offended, but keep silence now.’ Of course, by that time those soldiers were rather elderly, but in fact their children and grandchildren could be among skinheads.

On January 27 a radio reporter called me and invited to participate in broadcast program (I was recommended by Radio Liberty 8 reporters, where I gave a talk several times). I came there: it appeared to be rather strange broadcasting station situated in a one-room apartment. The reporter explained that for the most part they worked for seamen, therefore they broadcasted at night (from 1 till 2 o’clock a.m.). It was the day of liberation (but that reporter seemed to me to know nothing about the Holocaust), the day of raising the blockade of Leningrad. The reporter said ‘How shall I introduce you to our listeners?’

‘I am a prose writer and a former prisoner of the ghetto and two concentration camps.’ (I didn’t like to tell everybody that I am a member of the Union of Soviet Writers, because I consider Chekhov 9 and Dostoevsky 10 to be writers, not me). [Union of Soviet Writers was the organization of professional writers of the USSR.] He answered ‘What?’ And I understood that he knew nothing about the ghetto. He invited me to the microphone and asked to tell about myself. I started from German occupation and when I mentioned the ghetto he said ‘Will you please explain to our listeners what the ghetto was.’ 

I explained, but realized that I was explaining it not only to the audience, but to the reporter, too. Then he asked me ‘And what were you dressed in?’ - ‘Don’t you know that we wore prison clothes, the stripes.’ -  ‘Did they give prisoners underwear?’ - ‘It was difficult to call that sacking underwear.’ 

And he understood that it was better to ask me no more questions. I finished my monologue and started coughing, therefore the reporter suggested me a cup of tea. We moved to the kitchen. He said that I looked youthful, though I had suffered so much. Then he asked me the following ‘Tell me about sanitary conditions in the camp.’ - ‘What are you talking about, I wonder? As for me, four days I was unconscious and then crawled out of the barrack to wash my face with dirty snow beside it.’ - ‘Did you receive any medical assistance, for instance aspirin?’

At that moment I was absolutely drooped with that aspirin! I said ‘Why are you talking about aspirin, if a gas chamber and a crematorium functioned round the clock. People were brought there to die!!!’

So I left that broadcasting station and it seemed to me that I had swallowed a toad. That reporter was about 30 years old, he was a journalist, but he asked me if they gave prisoners aspirin in a concentration camp! Do you know who helped me in that situation?! It was a German journalist from Austria, he called me 2 or 3 days later. He lived in Graz (our executioner Franz Mourer was from Graz, too). That journalist told me that he knew about Mourer, that he was an executioner in the Vilnius ghetto. By the way in the Austrian edition of my book there is an epilogue which contains the following words ‘This book requires an epilogue from an Austrian, because the majority of the mentioned executioners were Austrians.’ That journalist was present at the legal proceedings against Mourer. He said that the audience sympathized with Mourer, because most of them were from SS-Verfugungstruppe.

That German journalist spoke excellent Russian. He told me that death notice of Mourer (about 10 years ago) was rather respectful. The journalist wanted to unmask Mourer (at least posthumously). Therefore he was searching for an eye-witness. In the Internet he found information about my book and decided to visit me. I gave him a photo of Mourer and two orders of him regarding prohibitions for Jews.

In the USSR I had to take care of my books myself. I used to go to the main bookshop of Leningrad and ASK them to take my books for sale. At first they allowed me to bring 5 books. Later I called them and asked their permission to bring another 10. And the goods manager told me apologizing that the new director ordered to take only 5 books from authors. She added that if the books were not sold during 2 months, they would be returned to the author.

On the Victory day 11 I was invited to speak at a meeting of two generations. The hall was divided into two parts: the former citizens of the besieged Leningrad 12 and the former prisoners on the one side and schoolchildren on the other one. The presenter asked me to prepare autographed copies of my books for the schoolchildren. They were sorry to have bought only 5 books (there were no more books in the bookshop!). Then I addressed the audience with my story (and you know that each recollection is painful)… They asked me many questions, including the following one ‘What's your attitude towards young generation?’ And I answered ‘I rest my hopes upon them.’  The whole room applauded.

In Petersburg there is an Association of the Former Minor Prisoners of Concentration Camps. Its members started to receive amends from Germany. Last year (in the beginning of August) 10 former prisoners from Moscow and 10 ones from Petersburg were invited to visit Germany. But you see, it was only me who spoke to people everywhere in Germany. Among the members of our group there were different people: one of them knew nothing, another one was too little to recollect anything. And I was an experienced speaker: under the Soviet regime they used to invite me to different factories, and I spoke to people readily (I knew that I had to). I also was a member of a Circle for Propagation of the Soviet Literature. The word propagation frightens people, but actually the circle arranged meetings of writers and their readers.

Someone said for a joke that in the Union of Soviet Writers there were hundreds of Jews, but only one Jewess.

In France (in 2003) I received a special prize In Memory of Holocaust, signed by Rothschild. He had to deliver a speech, but unfortunately that day hooligans set fire to a synagogue somewhere in the suburb. Therefore we did not meet (unfortunately!) and Rothschild sent me the text of his speech translated into Russian. There he wrote that that premium had been awarded since 1998 once a year, and for the first time in its history it was awarded to a person from the country which was on its way to democratic society.

Among the well known political events I can mention Hungarian events 13 and Stalin's death. To tell the truth, I had no time to be engaged in politics: I always studied hard at school, at my college, etc.

When my book was published, authorities were very proud that they proved to have no anti-Semitism. You see, at that time I wanted my book to be published very much (on the one hand), and understood that I acted as a fig leaf for authorities to cover their anti-Semitism (on the other hand). They published a review and circulated it. They received a lot of requests for the book from different countries and started selling its magazine variant (Zvezda magazine) for dollars. Of course I got nothing: till 1973 in the Soviet Union there was no copyright.

It’s interesting to mention that I have four different surnames as an author of those books. According to my passport I am Rolnikaite, in Israel (in Hebrew) and in Warsaw (in Yiddish) they called me Rolnik. In Paris they knew my uncle (there is a memorial plaque built into the wall of the house where he lived), therefore I was called there Rolnikas (to show our relationship). You know Maria Rolnikas in Lithuanian means just the same as Maria Ivanov - a woman’s variant of the first name plus a man's variant of the surname. And in Czechoslovakia they transformed my surname into Rolnikassova. Hence I have 4 surnames as a real criminal! Erenburg 14 was the first person, who asked me about my first name when I visited him: he thought I was Miriam. And it was my sister whose name was Miriam. When I asked Daddy about my first name, he explained that when Mom was pregnant, she dreamed to give birth to a boy. At that time my father's grandfather died and my father's father asked him to call the newborn boy Moshele. Therefore when a girl was born, they called her (me) Masha (Maria). All was very simple and very complicated at the same time!

After the end of the war I immediately started my studies. My friends (girls) used to say ‘Why are you spending your time at this evening school? Let’s go to dance! We must drive boys crazy! We are eager to get married!’ I answered ‘No, I won’t stay illiterate because of Hitler’s occupation - not for the world! I will become educated.’

Therefore I got married rather late: at the age of 32. My husband lived in Leningrad, therefore after marriage we moved there. My husband’s name was Semen Savelyevich Tsukernik. His father’s name was Saul, but Savely according to his documents. It happened in 1959 (45 years ago). At first we lived in a communal apartment 15 in Mayakovskaya Street. There were 8 rooms (6 owners). When in France they asked me about my apartment, I was honest: 6 families lived together in our apartment. The interpreter stopped and asked me if she had to translate my words. And I said yes, I was not going to set the Frenchmen wrong, though I understood that at that meeting some third eyes could be present. And at the last meeting in France the audience rose when I came in. I was confused. I was so much confused, that walked along the aisle all of a shake. People were very kind to me. At the end of the meeting a person approached and started touching my face. He appeared to be a visually impaired friend of my uncle, he said ‘Your chin is strong-willed, like that of Mikhey.’ That day I was given a big bunch of roses as a present.

I told them that the next morning I was leaving for Leningrad. I explained to them that in Leningrad there was Piskarevskoye memorial cemetery. [Piskarevskoye memorial cemetery was a burial place for the Leningrad citizens during blockade of Leningrad.] I told people in France that I was going to carry their flowers there. So I did it. I smelled the snow and roses: it was fantastic! It happened in 1967. 

At present I am a member of the Society for War Veterans, Former Citizens of the Besieged Leningrad and Ghetto Prisoners and also a member of the Association of the Former Minor Prisoners of Concentration Camps. There we celebrate Jewish holidays. Besides that I use to celebrate anniversaries of our liberation from fascist concentration camp. When the date (March 10) is near, it comes to my mind again and again. I recollect our long walk to the camp, and the soldier pushing me down into the ditch, and a very strong wind. I remember that I wanted to fall asleep and be sleeping like a log till the end of those terrible days. You know, to tell the truth, all my terrible memoirs will stay with me for ever 

Glossary:

1 Annexation of Vilnius to Lithuania

During the interwar period the previously Russian-held multi-ethnic city of Wilno (Vilnius) was a part of Poland and the capital of Lithuania was Kaunas. According to a secrete clause in the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact (Soviet-German agreement on the division of Eastern Europe, August 1939) the Soviet Army occupied both Eastern Poland (September 1939) and the three Baltic states (Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, June 1940). While most of the occupied Eastern Polish territories were divided up between Soviet Ukraine and Belarus, Vilnius was attached to Lithuania and was to be its capital. The loss of the independent Lithuanian statehood, therefore, was accompanied with the return of Vilnius, regarded as an integral part of the country by most Lithuanians.

2 Ponary

Forest near Vilnius that became the killing field for the majority of Jews from Vilnius. The victims were shot to death by the SS and the German police assisted by Lithuanian collaborators. In September-October 1941 alone over 12,000 Jews from Vilnius and the vicinity were killed there. In total 70,000 to 100,000 people, the majority of them Jews were killed in Ponary.

3 Gulag

The Soviet system of forced labor camps in the remote regions of Siberia and the Far North, which was first established in 1919. However, it was not until the early 1930s that there was a significant number of inmates in the camps. By 1934 the Gulag, or the Main Directorate for Corrective Labor Camps, then under the Cheka's successor organization the NKVD, had several million inmates. The prisoners included murderers, thieves, and other common criminals, along with political and religious dissenters. The Gulag camps made significant contributions to the Soviet economy during the rule of Stalin. Conditions in the camps were extremely harsh. After Stalin died in 1953, the population of the camps was reduced significantly, and conditions for the inmates improved somewhat.

4 Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact

Non-aggression pact between Germany and the Soviet Union, which became known under the name of Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. Engaged in a border war with Japan in the Far East and fearing the German advance in the west, the Soviet government began secret negotiations for a non-aggression pact with Germany in 1939. In August 1939 it suddenly announced the conclusion of a Soviet-German agreement of friendship and non-aggression. The Pact contained a secret clause providing for the partition of Poland and for Soviet and German spheres of influence in Eastern Europe.

5 Vilnius Ghetto

95 percent of the estimated 265,000 Lithuanian Jews (254,000 people) were murdered during the Nazi occupation; no other communities were so comprehensively destroyed during WWII. Vilnius was occupied by the Germans on 26th June 1941 and two ghettos were built in the city afterwards, separated by Niemiecka Street, which lay outside both of them. On 6th September all Jews were taken to the ghettoes, at first randomly to either Ghetto 1 or Ghetto 2. During September they were continuously slaughtered by Einsatzkommando units. Later craftsmen were moved to Ghetto 1 with their families and all others to Ghetto 2. During the ‘Yom Kippur Action’ on 1st October 3,000 Jews were killed. In three additional actions in October the entire Ghetto 2 was liquidated and later another 9,000 of the survivors were killed. In late 1941 the official population of the ghetto was 12,000 people and it rose to 20,000 by 1943 as a result of further transports. In August 1943 over 7,000 people were sent to various labor camps in Lithuania and Estonia. The Vilnius ghetto was liquidated under the supervision of Bruno Kittel on 23rd and 24th September 1943. On Rossa Square a selection took place: those able to work were sent to labor camps in Latvia and Estonia and the rest to different death camps in Poland. By 25th September 1943 only 2,000 Jews officially remained in Vilnius in small labor camps and more than 1,000 were hiding outside and were gradually hunted down. Those permitted to live continued to work at the Kailis and HKP factories until 2nd June 1944 when 1,800 of them were shot and less than 200 remained in hiding until the Red Army liberated Vilnius on 13th July 1944.

6 Great Patriotic War

On 22nd June 1941 at 5 o’clock in the morning Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union without declaring war. This was the beginning of the so-called Great Patriotic War. The German blitzkrieg, known as Operation Barbarossa, nearly succeeded in breaking the Soviet Union in the months that followed. Caught unprepared, the Soviet forces lost whole armies and vast quantities of equipment to the German onslaught in the first weeks of the war. By November 1941 the German army had seized the Ukrainian Republic, besieged Leningrad, the Soviet Union's second largest city, and threatened Moscow itself. The war ended for the Soviet Union on 9th May 1945.

7 Mikhoels, Solomon (1890-1948) (born Vovsi)

Great Soviet actor, producer and pedagogue. He worked in the Moscow State Jewish Theater (and was its art director from 1929). He directed philosophical, vivid and monumental works. Mikhoels was murdered by order of the State Security Ministry

8 Radio Liberty

Radio Liberty, which started broadcasting in 1953, has served as a surrogate 'home service' to the lands of the former Soviet Union, providing news and information that was otherwise unavailable to most Soviet and post-Soviet citizens. During that time, the station weathered strong opposition from the Soviet Union and its allies, including constant jamming, public criticism, diplomatic protests, and even physical attacks on Radio Liberty buildings and personnel. In 1976, Radio Liberty was merged with Radio Free Europe (RFE) to form a single organization, RFE/RL, Inc.

9 Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich (1860-1904)

Russian short-story writer and dramatist. Chekhov's hundreds of stories concern human folly, the tragedy of triviality, and the oppression of banality. His characters are drawn with compassion and humor in a clear, simple style noted for its realistic detail. His focus on internal drama was an innovation that had enormous influence on both Russian and foreign literature. His success as a dramatist was assured when the Moscow Art Theater took his works and staged great productions of his masterpieces, such as Uncle Vanya or The Three Sisters. and also had some religious instruction.

10 Dostoevsky, Fyodor (1821-1881)

Russian novelist, journalist and short-story writer whose psychological penetration into the human soul had a profound influence on the 20th century novel. His novels anticipated many of the ideas of Nietzsche and Freud. Dostoevsky’s novels contain many autobiographical elements, but ultimately they deal with moral and philosophical issues. He presented interacting characters with contrasting views or ideas about freedom of choice, socialism, atheisms, good and evil, happiness and so forth.

11 Victory Day in Russia (9th May)

National holiday to commemorate the defeat of Nazi Germany and the end of World War II and honor the Soviets who died in the war.

12 Blockade of Leningrad

On September 8, 1941 the Germans fully encircled Leningrad and its siege began. It lasted until January 27, 1944. The blockade meant incredible hardships and privations for the population of the town. Hundreds of thousands died from hunger, cold and diseases during the almost 900 days of the blockade

13 1956

It designates the Revolution, which started on 23rd October 1956 against Soviet rule and the communists in Hungary. It was started by student and worker demonstrations in Budapest started in which Stalin’s gigantic statue was destroyed. Moderate communist leader Imre Nagy was appointed as prime minister and he promised reform and democratization. The Soviet Union withdrew its troops which had been stationing in Hungary since the end of World War II, but they returned after Nagy’s announcement that Hungary would pull out of the Warsaw Pact to pursue a policy of neutrality. The Soviet army put an end to the rising on 4th November and mass repression and arrests started. About 200,000 Hungarians fled from the country. Nagy, and a number of his supporters were executed. Until 1989, the fall of the communist regime, the Revolution of 1956 was officially considered a counter-revolution.

14 Erenburg, Ilya Grigorievich (1891-1967)

Famous Russian Jewish novelist, poet and journalist who spent his early years in France. His first important novel, The Extraordinary Adventures of Julio Jurento (1922) is a satire on modern European civilization. His other novels include The Thaw (1955), a forthright piece about Stalin’s régime which gave its name to the period of relaxation of censorship after Stalin’s death.

15 Communal apartment

The Soviet power wanted to improve housing conditions by requisitioning ‘excess’ living space of wealthy families after the Revolution of 1917. Apartments were shared by several families with each family occupying one room and sharing the kitchen, toilet and bathroom with other tenants. Because of the chronic shortage of dwelling space in towns communal or shared apartments continued to exist for decades. Despite state programs for the construction of more houses and the liquidation of communal apartments, which began in the 1960s, shared apartments still exist today.
 

Ida Alkalai

Ida Alkalai 

Dupnista

Bulgaria

Interviewer: Dimitar Bozhilov

Date of Interview: July 2005

Ida Alkalai is a very polite, hospitable and warm, elderly lady. Her home is modestly furnished and is located on the central street of the town. She likes doing housework and is pleased with the recent renovation of her kitchen. She’s very attached to her family and relies on her husband’s opinion. She thinks that old people shouldn’t meddle into the lives of their children unless the children need it. Some years ago both her children left for Israel and her husband and she are very sad about it and are thinking whether they should follow them.

I come from the Sephardi Jews 1, who were banished from Spain in the 15th century 2. My mother’s family is from Kyustendil. My maternal grandfather’s name was Estrel Elazar and my grandmother’s name was Sara Elazar. My grandfather was a tinsmith and had a workshop in Kyustendil. My grandmother was a housewife. They were nice and modest people. We spoke with them in Bulgarian and Ladino 3. I can speak Ladino. I saw my maternal grandfather very rarely. I don’t remember him very well because he died when I was very young.

After my maternal grandfather died, every year my grandmother came from Kyustendil to spend two to three months with us so that she wouldn’t be alone. She lived by herself in Kyustendil. She was a talkative and easygoing woman. Unlike her, her sister, whose name was Reyna, was very strict and aristocratic. She wasn’t very talkative and looked very serious. I’ve vague memories about them from the time of my visits to Kyustendil. My grandmother was a little bit stooped and wore a kerchief, under which she had a braid. When I was a child, I visited my grandmother almost every year. I traveled by bus. Kyustendil was a beautiful town with nice mineral water spas. There were rich and very poor Jews living there. I usually visited my mother’s brothers and sisters when I went to Kyustendil on my summer vacations. I was still a pupil then. I had a very good time. We went to restaurants and had walks around the town. They asked me to sing and I did gladly.

My mother, Matilda Shekerdjiiska, was born in Kyustendil. She had three brothers and two sisters. The eldest one, Nissim Elazar, was a cobbler in Kyustendil. I don’t remember his wife. My mother’s second eldest brother was Estrel Elazar. He was a tinsmith in Kyustendil. His wife’s name was Vintura. They had four children, who left for Israel during the mass aliyah 4. They were very beautiful girls. I remember the names of two of them: Marika and Sarika. My mother’s third brother was Rahamim Elazar. He worked as a tailor and lived in Sofia. His family also left for Israel. I don’t know any details.

My paternal grandfather’s name was Haim Shekerdjiiski, and my grandmother’s name was Kadena Shekerdjiiska. My grandfather was related to Emil Shekerdjiiski, but I don’t know their exact relation. [Shekerdjiiski, Emil Mois (1912-1944): journalist, writer, literary critic. Born in Dupnitsa. A communist functionary and member of the Bulgarian Communist Party since 1932. Studied at ‘Kliment Ohridski’ Sofia University, as well as architecture in Belgrade (Serbia). Contributor to a number of Bulgarian newspapers and magazines. During World War II he was a partisan (with the nickname Stefan) in the Kyustendil squad. Killed as a partisan in a firing with the police in 1944.] I’m not sure where they were born, most probably in Dupnitsa. We never spoke about that. I only remember that four families in addition to my grandparents lived in the house in Dupnitsa, in which I was born. Apart from my father, the families of some of my father’s brothers also lived there.

When I was a child, probably at the end of the 1920s, my paternal grandparents left for Gyurgevo near Sapareva Banya, which is about 20 kilometers from Dupnitsa. My grandfather had a grocery store there. He sold everything: sugar, oil, flour, butter, ironware. Sapareva Banya is a resort village with a nice mineral water spa. Once, my grandfather decided to try the mineral water spa in Sapareva Banya and a bull passed through there, attacked and stabbed him. That’s how my grandfather died.

My grandfather liked his grandsons more than his granddaughters. He didn’t like me much because I was a girl. He didn’t pay much attention to me. He was a strict man. He was also quite a big man. He dressed in plain town clothes: he usually wore trousers and a jacket. I don’t remember him having a beard. After my grandfather died, Grandmother Kadena came to live with us in Dupnitsa. She lived alone in a room in the attic. She was a humble and short woman. Sometimes she had lunch with us or with some of my father’s brothers. I remember that she often sat on the big balcony and spent her time there.

My father’s name was Zhak [Haim] Shekerdjiiski. He was a dealer of second-hand clothes and goods. He had a small warehouse behind the house. He sold his goods there. He didn’t have a shop. My mother helped him. Villagers came and bought what they needed. They knew him and asked for him. That helped us during the time of the anti-Jewish laws, when Jews were forbidden to do business 5. Despite the bans the villagers continued to buy goods from us. We weren’t poor. My father went to Sofia every week and brought us nice food. But that was before the war [World War II]. After that my father got sick and stopped going to Sofia. We couldn’t afford to have a maid. My mother sewed custom-made clothes and my father’s business wasn’t too successful. We were a nice modest family. From my father’s brothers only Uncle Aron and Aunt Liza had a maid.

My father had five brothers and a sister: Buko, Aron, Adolf, Daniel, Nissim and Matilda. Uncles Aron, Adolf and Daniel lived in our yard. We were a very united family. Uncle Buko lived elsewhere and Uncle Nissim was in Sofia. Uncle Buko lived in the Jewish neighborhood. He had three sons: Haim, who was blind, Josko and Nissim. Haim was a basket-maker. All my father’s brothers were dealers. Uncle Buko sold flour. Uncle Nissim sold clothes in Sofia. Uncles Aron and Adolf also sold flour. Uncle Adolf went to Gyurgevo to help my grandfather, but after an accident he came back and became a dealer.

The eldest brother was Uncle Buko, and then my father was born. Aron was the third child, Nissim the fourth, Adolf the fifth, Daniel the sixth and Tanti [Aunt] Matilda was the youngest. She got married and lived in Sofia, but she didn’t have any children. Uncle Nissim’s wife was from Sofia. I don’t remember her name. Uncle Buko married Zumbul, nee Shimon, from Dupnitsa, Uncle Aron married Liza from Samokov, Uncle Daniel married Ester from Kyustendil, and Uncle Adolf married Vita, who was born in Sofia. Some of those families left for Israel. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the names of all my cousins and relatives. Uncle Daniel and Aunt Ester lived in Dupnitsa. They had two children: Rahamim, who became a professor in pharmacy in Sofia and Dinka, who became an accountant in Sofia.

There were a lot of Jewish houses in the center of Dupnitsa, but there was no Jewish neighborhood there. It was located not far from the center along the [Jerman] river 6, which passes through the town. There was no difference between the Jews living in the center and those along the river. You can’t say that those in the center were richer. We had a Jewish school called ‘Eliachi Hadjidavidov’ [Eliachi hadji David was a famous corn-dealer in Dupnitsa.]. The building of the Jewish municipality, the synagogue, which was massive and old, and the Jewish bank ‘Bratstvo’ [Brotherhood] 7 were in the center. The bank was governed by the Jewish municipality. It supported mostly Jews, and gave them credit for the purchase of apartments or education. Nissim Alkalai, my husband Aron Alkalai’s father, was a teller in that bank and was paying a mortgage there. We had a chazzan and shochet, who was in a separate building. Before the mass aliyah, after the state of Israel was founded [the big aliyah in 1948], the Jews in Dupnitsa were around 2000.

Our house had two floors and a big balcony. It was in the center of Dupnitsa, very close to the building of the Jewish municipality. It was built by Grandfather Haim. Each family had their own entrance. The house was old but the living conditions were good. There were two buildings in the yard. My family’s apartment was in one of the buildings and consisted of two rooms and a kitchen. We had water and electricity. We didn’t have a radio. One of the buildings faced the street and there were small shops on the ground floor. We lived in that building, but in the rooms facing the yard. The other building was further out in the yard. My father’s brothers, who lived in Dupnitsa, had separate shops with warehouses. All the shops were on the main street of the town.

My mother, Matilda Shekerdjiiska, nee Elazar, was born in Kyustendil. I suppose that my father saw her when he went to Kyustendil and that’s how they met. She worked as a seamstress. She had her own sewing machine. When I graduated from the vocational school, I started helping her with the sewing. She didn’t observe Sabbath because she had to work on Saturdays. I have seen her sew on Saturdays. But my grandmothers observed Sabbath very strictly.

My parents were humble people. They respected each other and loved us, the children, very much. My brother was also very modest. We never gave them much trouble. They weren’t very strict, but raised us warmly and lovingly.

My parents communicated mostly with Jews. Their environment was Jewish. They spoke more of Ladino than Bulgarian. In the past I heard people saying that Jews spoke Bulgarian with an accent. The interesting thing was that there were Bulgarians in the Jewish neighborhood who spoke Ladino. Their environment was Jewish, they communicated with Jews mostly and that’s how they learned Ladino. Some Bulgarians knew Ladino very well, because they had learned it when they were kids, during their games with the Jewish children. When I was a child, I was friends with all the children in the neighborhood, both Jewish and Bulgarian. We got along very well.

We had both Bulgarian and Jewish neighbors. During the Jewish holidays we welcomed our Bulgarian friends. Whole families came to visit us. My mother’s meals weren’t very different from the traditional Bulgarian cuisine, which includes a lot of vegetables and meat. But there were some differences, for example, Bulgarians didn’t make leak balls. My mother made very nice rice with chicken, okra with chicken, hotchpotch with aubergines and meat, pastries with cheese, minced meat, leaks, and spinach. She also made very nice crackers. My mother was a very good housewife. Grandmother Kadena also cooked very well.

All my father’s brothers got along very well. I saw my father and his brothers gather with friends and play poker. We were united. My mother gathered with her Jewish friends at home. I had a very good friend, Dinka, who was the daughter of Uncle Daniel. We played a lot along the river near the Jewish neighborhood. When we were a little older, I made her watch from the balcony whether Aron, my future husband, would enter the confectionery opposite the street so that I would go there to see him. Those were nice years. My husband and I met at a ‘jour:’ that’s how the gatherings of young people were called then. ‘Jours’ were for all young people, both Jews and Bulgarians. But my friends were Jews. ‘Jours’ were made in the houses. We listened to popular music and danced.

My husband and I flirted and grew closer to each other. We went out for about a year before we got married. We went together to restaurants and bars in Dupnitsa, but only after 9th September 1944 8. The synagogue was near our house. Jews visited it regularly. There was a small stream with drinking water in the yard. Weddings were also done there. My father didn’t go to the synagogue as he wasn’t religious. He liked doing the shopping. He was very good at housework and his business. Even during the greatest crisis in fascist times [during World War II] he managed to support our family. Every year we prepared winter supplies: raw and boiled pickles, flat sausages from mutton and pork. When I was a child, there was a small building next to the synagogue and we took hens there to be slaughtered by the shochet. But sometimes my father put on an apron and slaughtered the hen in the sink at home. Later when I got married, we asked someone from our Bulgarian neighbors to slaughter the chicken.

I studied in the Jewish school until the fourth grade. I think that there was also a nursery [cheder] at the Jewish school. It was for children up to pre-school age. We had a teacher at the Jewish school called Monsieur Revakh, who was very strict. He taught us Ivrit. When we didn’t know our work, he hit us with a small pencil and made us stand in the corner facing the wall. I wasn’t very good at Ivrit. Monsieur Revakh did his best to teach us the language, but I think we weren’t very hard working. There were also female teachers in the school who were Jewish. There was a stage at the Jewish school. We gathered in a big hall there to dance and party. The Jewish school was the only school in town which had a stage. On that stage I sang in the school choir.

Dupnitsa was a relatively developed town for its times. When I was a child there were carriages and buses to the nearby villages. I have traveled by carriage. There was a narrow-gauge line passing near Dupnitsa.

There were Jewish organizations in the town. The most popular were Maccabi 9 and ‘Saznanie’ [Conscience] 10. I was a member of Maccabi. I don’t remember doing gymnastics or any other sports. The association ‘Saznanie’ was a cultural and educational organization. There was a choir, library and theater group. They were all housed in the building of the Jewish municipality in the center of town. I also saw Bulgarians visit the ‘Saznanie’ community house. I don’t remember Maccabi having some concrete activities. We just gathered to see each other. Most of the Jews were members of ‘Saznanie.’ They had a rich cultural program. They put on opera performances, concerts and theater plays. They were much visited by the Jewish community in the town. You can say that the ‘Saznanie’ community house organized the cultural life of the whole town. My family also went to opera and theater performances.

When we were young, we often went to the theater and cinema. The movies were very popular and tickets were sold out quickly. The cinema was at the place of the military club in the center of the town. After my marriage we still went to the theater and cinema.

When I was a child, my parents and I often went on vacation by cart to Sapareva Banya. That is the village with the mineral water spa where my grandfather died. We usually spent 10-15 days there. My father hired a cart with a coachman; we took some luggage and went to Sapareva Banya. Usually only my family went, but sometimes we also took along other Jewish families. In Sapareva Banya we usually rented a private lodging during our stay. We did that once a year. Later, when I got married, my husband and I went to seaside resorts every year. I also often went to mineral water spa resorts.

When I was a child, we always celebrated Pesach and the other high Jewish holidays such as Frutas 11 and Chanukkah. On Pesach we weren’t allowed to eat bread. We strictly observed that for eight days. There was matzah and boyos [small flat loaves] on the table. We celebrated Pesach by ourselves. Usually some of my father’s relatives also visited us. My mother prepared a holiday dinner. We made burmolikos 12 from matzah. We put the matzah in water, then kneaded it, added eggs, and fried it in hot oil. We then dipped them in sugar syrup and ate them with a boiled egg. We also made pastel [pastry with meat]. We didn’t have separate dishes for Pesach, but before the holiday we cleaned the entire cutlery, and the house.\

When my father and uncles gathered at my grandfather’s for Pesach, the ritual was more closely followed. Firstly, they washed their hands, then said a prayer, and read the Haggadah. The observation of the rituals was done mostly by our grandparents. When I got married, my husband and I didn’t follow the Jewish rituals. After the mass aliyah in 1948-1950, not many Jews remained here.

On Yom Kippur, even nowadays, I observe the tradition of not eating anything from the evening of the previous day until 6pm the following day. I also do nothing on that day. On Frutas besides citrus fruit, my mother baked sunflower seeds, peanuts and hazelnuts. We all loved nuts at home and my father often bought them. On Purim we had small purses and went to our relatives who gave us coins. I went to my uncles and each of them put a lev in my purse. Children in fancy clothes also came and their parents gave them presents. There was a tradition on that day to give money to the children. That tradition is still being observed today. On Chanukkah there was a tradition for us to eat halva 13 and sweet things. The halva was made at home. We had a candlestick with eight candles and every day we lit a new one. Now we also have a candlestick for Chanukkah.

After three classes in a junior high school I enrolled in the vocational school in Dupnitsa. When I graduated from the junior high school, I wanted to study in a high school. Then my mother told me that I had to learn a craft and enrolled me in the vocational school. There I learned sewing and worked with my mother for some time. Sewing was what we did for a living. My mother sewed dresses and when I graduated from the vocational school I started giving her some advice. There were Jews and Bulgarians among my mother’s clients. I graduated with a master’s certificate in sewing. That was shortly before 1939. In school I didn’t have problems because of my origin. I remember that during the war [World War II] some Germans, civilians and military, were accommodated in the vocational school. I don’t know why. But they didn’t treat us badly.

At the beginning of the 1940s, when the anti-Jewish laws were adopted, we were very worried. My father continued working. He was close to a lot of villagers, who kept on buying goods from him. Otherwise, all the Jewish workshops, bank and organizations were closed. During the internment of Jews in 1943 14 in Sofia, a family of four came to live with us. That was the Kohen family. They were my mother’s relatives. We had a kitchen, living-room and one more room. We gave them the living-room. They stayed with us for some months.

From my father’s brothers only Uncle Daniel had a radio, a ‚Telefunken.’ During fascist times they hid it so that no one would see it. There was an order to confiscate all Jewish radio sets. We listened to the news on the war. During World War II, Uncle Rahamim, my mother’s brother, was interned from Sofia to Dupnitsa and lived at our place. I remember that he was with us during the bombardments. [On 13th September 1943 the British-American troops bombarded the Bulgarian towns Stara Zagora, Gorna Oryahovitsa and Kazanlak, as Bulgaria was allied with Germany. On 30th December 1943 they bombarded Sofia. In this air raid 70 people were killed and 95 wounded. The biggest air raid was in Sofia on 10th January 1944. 750 people were killed and nearly the whole city center was ruined]. He watched the planes passing through the sky and told me in Ladino that those were stars up there.

In January 1944 there were bombings in Dupnitsa. There were destroyed buildings. When we heard the sirens, we would all climb a hill near the town so that we wouldn’t get hurt. All the people from the town went there. As far as I know the American planes that went to Romania, I don’t know for what reason, didn’t throw their bombs, and when they were going back they threw their bombs over other parts of Bulgaria. It was good that they threw most of their bombs in the field. Before Uncle Rahamim came to us, he was in a labor camp in Kailuka 15 near Pleven. He was caught going outside during the forbidden hours and that’s why he was sent there. There was a fire at the place where the Jews were imprisoned and ten Jews died. My uncle survived. He lived in Sofia and died there.

When we weren’t allowed to go out, because we were being prepared for deportation 16, my father went out to sit for a while in front of the door. Then a fascist-oriented neighbor hit him and ordered him to go inside immediately. We weren’t allowed to go out even in front of our houses. There were shops with notices reading, ‘Forbidden for Jews.’ There were special shops for Jews. But we didn’t have notices on the doors of our houses. There were people in Dupnitsa who were against Jews even before the war. But most of the people supported us.

We got along very well with most of the Bulgarians. When we were about to be deported in 1943, all our belongings, everything which was stored for a girl who will get married such as sheets, towels, clothes, blankets, we gave to Bulgarians. But when they told us that we wouldn’t be deported, the Bulgarians gave us our belongings back. Then we had to stay in our houses and weren’t allowed to go out. Probably they waited for the trains to arrive to get us deported to the concentration camps.

The Aegean Jews, who were killed in the camps, passed through Dupnitsa 17. Some of those Jews spent a few days in Dupnitsa in some warehouse and the Bulgarians brought them food. I also remember that during fascist times Bulgarian friends visited my husband’s father to take him out to a friend’s house, when Jews were forbidden to go out after 8pm. He would take off the star [the interviewee means the yellow star worn obligatorily as a badge by Bulgarian Jews] 18 and they would hide him while walking on the street. During the war there was a curfew and we were allowed only to walk along the river.

On 9th September 1944 the partisans came to Dupnitsa from the Rila Mountain. I was at the square where a lot of people from the town had gathered. There wasn’t any fighting in the town, only the outright fascists were arrested and imprisoned. The authorities changed, the political prisoners were freed and we were very happy. There were speeches in the square.

My husband, Aron Alkalai, and I were very much in love. We have known each other ever since our adolescence. We had a large Jewish company. We got together and went to the cinema. We met at a hill near the town. He was very handsome and they called him ‘the baron.’ I was a very merry girl and sang very well. In September 1944 Aron went to the war front 19. He had enlisted as a volunteer. Then I gave him a lighter as a gift. Before that he had given me a bracelet. I had prepared my gift beforehand and hid it from my parents. Lighters were quite different then and we called them ‘tsigarnik’ [from ‘tsigara’ - ‘cigarette’ in Bulgarian]. I was very worried when Aron and my friends went to the labor camps 20 and after 9th September 1944, to the front. But the Jews in Bulgaria felt obliged to take part in the war against fascism and enlisted as volunteers. We got married in 1945. We only married before the registrar. I think that there were no religious weddings then. After we got married, Aron insisted that I shouldn’t work, so I stayed at home for some years. I did the housework and looked after our two children.

My husband was also born in Dupnitsa. He graduated from the vocational school in the town. He has a master’s certificate for a cobbler. His father, Nissim Alkalai, was a much respected man in the town. He worked as a clerk in the Jewish Bank until it was closed in 1940. His family members were very intelligent. His uncle, Mois Alkalai, was a headmaster and teacher in the Jewish school and the chairman of the Jewish municipality in Dupnitsa during World War II 21.

During the mass aliyah all my uncles left for Israel. That was the mass emigration of Jews from Bulgaria to Israel. My husband and I also wanted to leave. We did whatever my husband said. He didn’t want to leave because of his parents, because they had also decided to stay. It was very difficult to emigrate then because there was no one there to help you. You traveled by steamboat then. The people who emigrated packed their luggage in wooden boxes, so that they could use the wood to make sheds when they arrived. Now, with the help of relatives there, it’s much easier. It’s difficult to find a job in Israel, but it’s different from our times. Thanks to our older son, Nissim, our younger son, Zhak, managed to find a job. My father didn’t want to leave because of me, because my husband and I decided to stay. My parents also stayed in Dupnitsa and died here. Now my husband and I regret not leaving, because now we are alone without our kids, who are in Israel. We didn’t regret our decision earlier. We love Bulgaria and didn’t feel the need to emigrate. We often corresponded with our relatives in Israel. Now we keep in touch with my children by phone. The last time we visited Israel was four years ago.

In 1954 I started work in the Galenov Factory in Dupnitsa producing medicine. I started work when the factory was founded. My colleagues were very nice. Some of them were Jewish. The job wasn’t easy, we had quotas to fulfill.

I was respected at my workplace. I worked there for 21 years. It was later transformed into ‘Pharmahim.’ I retired from there with a small pension. I was easygoing and sang a lot. I was in the factory choir and had some solo performances in the community house of the town. I was also a soloist in the choir. I know songs in Ladino, which I learned from my mother.

After 9th September 1944 my parents stayed in the house where I was born. We continued to celebrate the Jewish holidays, but we didn’t get together with them, but with my husband’s family. My brother, Josko, often visited us. My uncles and aunts, who lived there, before they left for Israel, always got together on holidays.

My brother’s name is Josko Shekerdjiiski. He’s a little younger than me. He was born in 1927 in Dupnitsa. He also studied in the Jewish school. As a child he worked for my cousin, Haim Shekerdjiiski, with whom he made baskets. Then my brother graduated from a technical school, in food processing. After 9th September he started work in the shoe factory in Dupnitsa, where he worked until he retired. My brother’s wife is Olga who was born in Sofia. They have two children: Madlen [Madlena] and Zhak. Their family moved to Israel in the 1990s. The children were the first to go. Then they invited their parents. Zhak graduated from a technical school in communication equipment in Sofia and worked as a technician in Israel. Madlen is a nurse. My brother feels nostalgia for Bulgaria and visits Dupnitsa every year. But this year he and his wife aren’t in very good health and won’t come. Their children are happy in Israel. I think they went there for economic reasons.

After September 1944 we didn’t go to the synagogue, although it was opened. But after, most of the Jews immigrated to Israel from 1948 to 1950. It was then closed and used as some kind of a warehouse. Later, unfortunately, it was demolished and the Home of Techniques was built in its place. As far as I know the synagogue was built in 1599. I don’t know who made the decision to demolish it. The decision was made in Sofia. The Jewish organization in Dupnitsa didn’t stop working though.

After we got married, our two children were born: Nissim and Zhak. They weren’t raised especially in the spirit of the Jewish traditions, although after 9th September 1944 we continued to celebrate the Jewish holidays. You can say that they know the Jewish traditions well. We always celebrated Pesach. We lived with the family of my husband. His father read the Haggadah. The other holidays weren’t very strictly observed, probably only Yom Kippur, when we fasted. Our children don’t understand and can’t speak Ladino.

Zhak graduated from the Pedagogical Institute in Dupnitsa and was assigned to work as a teacher in Dalgopol [near Varna]. There he met his wife Zhechka, who is Bulgarian. They got married before the registrar. When he came and told us that he chose a wife from Dalgopol, my husband and I didn’t object. The parents of my daughter-in-law came to us in Dupnitsa and approved us as the family in which their daughter would live. My daughter-in-law is very nice. They have a son, Aron.

Our older son Nissim is an electrical technician and was promoted to director of a telephone technical office in Sofia. There he married Roza, who is Jewish. They married before the registrar and the next day they went by themselves to the synagogue and had a religious wedding. They have three children: Kristina, Ronit and Suzana.

Nissim immigrated to Israel about twelve years ago. He learned Ivrit very fast there. Now he speaks it fluently. Zhak also left with his family a couple of years ago. My older son emigrated mainly because his wife wished so. He had a good job in Sofia as a director. In Israel he now works as a supporting technician. His wife wanted to emigrate out of curiosity and patriotic reasons. My younger son emigrated due to economic reasons because his salary as a teacher was very low.

My children were raised among Bulgarians. There are no other Jews in the neighborhood, where our house is. My children got along with the Bulgarians very well. We got on very well with our neighbors both before and after 9th September 1944. We were also welcomed by them. We can’t complain about anything. Our environment was mostly Bulgarian. When our sons were born, we celebrated the brit milah. But we didn’t celebrate their bar mitzvah. My mother-in-law sang songs in Ladino and Bulgarian to my children. I also sang to them.

It’s difficult for me to comment on the political events in Bulgaria and abroad in recent years. Now life is more expensive, but people have more opportunities. Although our pensions are small, thanks to Joint 22 we can cover our expenses. What I think about are my children. They ask us to go live with them all the time, but we haven’t decided yet. We have prepared our documents, but at our age it’s very difficult to go to another country, in which we would understand nothing.

Now I do only housework. I spend my time mostly at home. Sometimes I meet with the women from the Jewish municipality in the Jewish club. We celebrate birthdays and Jewish holidays, mostly Pesach.

Glossary

1 Sephardi Jewry

Jews of Spanish and Portuguese origin. Their ancestors settled down in North Africa, the Ottoman Empire, South America, Italy and the Netherlands after they had been driven out from the Iberian peninsula at the end of the 15th century. About 250,000 Jews left Spain and Portugal on this occasion. A distant group among Sephardi refugees were the Crypto-Jews (Marranos), who converted to Christianity under the pressure of the Inquisition but at the first occasion reassumed their Jewish identity. Sephardi preserved their community identity; they speak Ladino language in their communities up until today. The Jewish nation is formed by two main groups: the Ashkenazi and the Sephardi group which differ in habits, liturgy their relation toward Kabala, pronunciation as well in their philosophy.

2 Expulsion of the Jews from Spain

The Sephardi population of the Balkans originates from the Jews who were expelled from the Iberian peninsula, as a result of the ‘Reconquista’ in the late 15th century (Spain 1492, and Portugal 1495). The majority of the Sephardim subsequently settled in the territory of the Ottoman Empire, mainly in maritime cities (Salonika, Istanbul, Smyrna, etc.) and also in the ones situated on significant overland trading routes to Central Europe (Bitola, Skopje, and Sarajevo) and to the Danube (Adrianople, Philipopolis, Sofia, and Vidin).

3 Ladino

also known as Judeo-Spanish, it is the spoken and written Hispanic language of Jews of Spanish and Portugese origin. Ladino did not become a specifically Jewish language until after the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492 (and Portugal in 1495) - it was merely the language of their province. It is also known as Judezmo, Dzhudezmo, or Spaniolit. When the Jews were expelled from Spain and Portugal they were cut off from the further development of the language, but they continued to speak it in the communities and countries to which they emigrated. Ladino therefore reflects the grammar and vocabulary of 15th century Spanish. In Amsterdam, England and Italy, those Jews who continued to speak ‘Ladino’ were in constant contact with Spain and therefore they basically continued to speak the Castilian Spanish of the time. Ladino was nowhere near as diverse as the various forms of Yiddish, but there were still two different dialects, which corresponded to the different origins of the speakers: ‘Oriental’ Ladino was spoken in Turkey and Rhodes and reflected Castilian Spanish, whereas ‘Western’ Ladino was spoken in Greece, Macedonia, Bosnia, Serbia and Romania, and preserved the characteristics of northern Spanish and Portuguese. The vocabulary of Ladino includes hundreds of archaic Spanish words, and also includes many words from different languages: mainly from Hebrew, Arabic, Turkish, Greek, French, and to a lesser extent from Italian. In the Ladino spoken in Israel, several words have been borrowed from Yiddish. For most of its lifetime, Ladino was written in the Hebrew alphabet, in Rashi script, or in Solitro. It was only in the late 19th century that Ladino was ever written using the Latin alphabet. At various times Ladino has been spoken in North Africa, Egypt, Greece, Turkey, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Romania, France, Israel, and, to a lesser extent, in the United States and Latin America.

4 Mass Aliyah

Between September 1944 and October 1948, 7,000 Bulgarian Jews left for Palestine. The exodus was due to deep-rooted Zionist sentiments, relative alienation from Bulgarian intellectual and political life, and depressed economic conditions. Bulgarian policies toward national minorities were also a factor that motivated emigration. In the late 1940s Bulgaria was anxious to rid itself of national minority groups, such as Armenians and Turks, and thus make its population more homogeneous. More people were allowed to depart in the winter of 1948 and the spring of 1949. The mass exodus continued between 1949 and 1951: 44,267 Jews immigrated to Israel until only a few thousand Jews remained in the country.

5 Law for the Protection of the Nation

A comprehensive anti-Jewish legislation in Bulgaria was introduced after the outbreak of World War II. The ‘Law for the Protection of the Nation’ was officially promulgated in January 1941. According to this law, Jews did not have the right to own shops and factories. Jews had to wear the distinctive yellow star; Jewish houses had to display a special sign identifying it as being Jewish; Jews were dismissed from all posts in schools and universities. The internment of Jews in certain designated towns was legalized and all Jews were expelled from Sofia in 1943. Jews were only allowed to go out into the streets for one or two hours a day. They were prohibited from using the main streets, from entering certain business establishments, and from attending places of entertainment. Their radios, automobiles, bicycles and other valuables were confiscated. From 1941 on Jewish males were sent to forced labor battalions and ordered to do extremely hard work in mountains, forests and road construction. In the Bulgarian-occupied Yugoslav (Macedonia) and Greek (Aegean Thrace) territories the Bulgarian army and administration introduced extreme measures. The Jews from these areas were deported to concentration camps, while the plans for the deportation of Jews from Bulgaria proper were halted by a protest movement launched by the vice-chairman of the Bulgarian Parliament.

6 Jerman River

Dupnitsa is a town in Southwest Bulgaria. It is located at an important crossroads on the way from Sofia to Thessaloniki and Plovdiv – Skopje. The town is 535 m above sea level. It is in the Dupnitsa valley at the foot of the western slopes of the Rila Mountain and the southern slopes of Veria. The biggest river which passes through the valley is Struma. The river Jerman, which originates from the Seven Rila Lakes passes through Dupnitsa. The Jewish neighborhood in Dupnitsa is located near the Jerman River under the Karshia hill near Sharshiiska Street. Jews settled here as early as the 16th century. In fact, the river divides the Jewish neighborhood from the Bulgarian one.

7 Jewish bank 'Bratstvo' [Brotherhood]

Co-operative bank 'Bratstvo' in Dupnitsa exists since 1st January 1925. It was officially registered on 12.12.1924 in the District Court in Kyustendil. Before that the association existed for many years under the name 'Dupnitsa mutual benefit association 'Bratstvo', but since it did not correspond to the law of co-operative associations, it was closed down and founded on the basis of the principles written in the law. A new statute was prepared, which was approved by the Bulgarian People's Bank. The object of the co-operative bank 'Bratstvo' was to help its members with an accessible credit in the form of three-month loans, saving accounts and other bank operations. The bank was governed by a board of directors, consisting of nine people; a director and an accountant. At the official registration of the bank Haim Alkalai was elected chairman of the board of directors and its members were Buko Leonov and Leon Levi. St. Hristov, a long-time teacher and clerk in the Bulgarian Agricultural and Cooperative Bank, was the director of the bank. The bank was housed on the second floor of the Jewish municipality in Ruse. Despite the large number of Jews in that bank, it was not a part of the Jewish municipality. It was subordinate to the co-operative association, whose goal was to give credits to its members, to arrange the transactions with its goods, provide machines and equipments for the development of crafts. The bank existed until 1947 when it was nationalized by law.

8 9th September 1944

The day of the communist takeover in Bulgaria. In September 1944 the Soviet Union declared war on Bulgaria. On 9th September 1944 the Fatherland Front, a broad left-wing coalition, deposed the government. Although the communists were in the minority in the Fatherland Front, they were the driving force in forming the coalition, and their position was strengthened by the presence of the Red Army in Bulgaria.

9 Maccabi World Union

International Jewish sports organization whose origins go back to the end of the 19th century. A growing number of young Eastern European Jews involved in Zionism felt that one essential prerequisite of the establishment of a national home in Palestine was the improvement of the physical condition and training of ghetto youth. In order to achieve this, gymnastics clubs were founded in many Eastern and Central European countries, which later came to be called Maccabi. The movement soon spread to more countries in Europe and to Palestine. The World Maccabi Union was formed in 1921. In less than two decades its membership was estimated at 200,000 with branches located in most countries of Europe and in Palestine, Australia, South America, South Africa, etc.

10 'Saznanie' [Conscience]

a Jewish self-educational association. It was founded in Dupnitsa on 7th January 1902. Its founders were mostly members of the Bulgarian Workers' Social Democratic Party. They were: Israel Yako Levi – a tobacco worker, Israel Daniel – a tailor, Moshe Alkalai – a tailor, Aron Luna – a merchant, Yako Yusef Komfort – a merchant. The goal of the association was to improve the culture and education of its members, help poor students with books, clothes and money. Another goal of the association was also the fight against nationalism and chauvinism of the Zionist organization, 'which poisons the mind of youths and strives to detach them from the class fight of the laborers.' The number of the members of 'Saznanie' reached 150 at one point. The leadership consisted of seven people – a chairman, a secretary, a treasurer, a cultural teacher, and three people as supervisory council. There were different sections in the association – a temperance one, a tourist one, a sports one with their own groups, which educated the members. The association in Dupnitsa had a library with mostly fiction and Marxist literature. There was also a choir, an orchestra and a theater group. The operetta 'Natalka-Poltavka' was staged in Dupnitsa, as well as the following plays: 'The High Laugh' by Victor Hugo, 'Intrigue and Love' by Schiller, 'The Barber of Seville' by Beaumarchais, 'The Victim' and 'The Dowery' by Albert Michael, 'Tevie The Milkman' by Sholom Aleichem, 'Les' by Ostrovsky, 'George Dandin' by Moliere. The members of 'Saznanie' such as Mois Alkalai, Kalina Alkalai, Mair Levi, who was the choir conductor, Buko Revakh, Roza Chelebi Levi were some of the best amateur actors. The main role in the play 'Tevie The Milkman' was performed by Mois Alkalai. Everyone admired his acting and the distinguished actor Leo Konforti (also of Jewish origin) was among his students. Some of the plays were performed in Judesmo-Espanol (Ladino), and the others in Bulgarian. The association was closed under the Law for Protection of the Nation. With its activities it contributed to the development of culture and education and left a permanent trace in the minds of the people in Dupnitsa.

11 Fruitas

The popular name of the Tu bi-Shevat festival among the Bulgarian Jews.

12 Burmoelos (or burmolikos, burlikus)

A sweetmeat made from matzah, typical for Pesach. First, the matzah is put into water, then squashed and mixed with eggs. Balls are made from the mixture, they are fried and the result is something like donuts.

13 Halva

A sweet confection of Turkish and Middle Eastern origin and largely enjoyed throughout the Balkans. It is made chiefly of ground sesame seeds and honey.

14 Internment of Jews in Bulgaria

Although Jews living in Bulgaria where not deported to concentration camps abroad or to death camps, many were interned to different locations within Bulgaria. In accordance with the Law for the Protection of the Nation, the comprehensive anti-Jewish legislation initiated after the outbreak of WWII, males were sent to forced labor battalions in different locations of the country, and had to engage in hard work. There were plans to deport Bulgarian Jews to Nazi Death Camps, but these plans were not realized. Preparations had been made at certain points along the Danube, such as at Somovit and Lom. In fact, in 1943 the port at Lom was used to deport Jews from Aegean Thrace and from Macedonia, but in the end, the Jews from Bulgaria proper were spared.

15 Kailuka camp

Following protests against the deportation of Bulgarian Jews in Kiustendil (8th March 1943) and Sofia (24th May 1943), Jewish activists, who had taken part in the demonstrations, and their families, several hundred people, were sent to the Somovit camp. The camp had been established on the banks of the Danube, and they were deported there in preparation for their further deportation to the Nazi death camps. About 110 of them, mostly politically active people with predominantly Zionist and left-wing convictions and their relatives, were later redirected to the Kailuka camp. The camp burned down on 10th July 1944 and 10 people died in the fire. It never became clear whether it was an accident or a deliberate sabotage.

16 Plan for deportation of Jews in Bulgaria

In accordance with the agreement signed on 22nd February 1943 by the Commissar for Jewish Affairs Alexander Belev on the Bulgarian side and Teodor Daneker on the German side, it was decided to deport 20,000 Jews at first. Since the number of the Aegean and Macedonian Jews, or the Jews from the 'new lands,' annexed to Bulgaria in WWII, was around 12,000, the other 8,000 Jews had to be selected from the so-called 'old borders', i.e. Bulgaria. A couple of days later, on 26th February Alexander Belev sent an order to the delegates of the Commissariat in all towns with a larger Jewish population to prepare lists of the so-called 'unwanted or anti-state elements.' The 'richer, more distinguished and socially prominent' Jews had to be listed among the first. The deportation started in March 1943 with the transportation of the Aegean and the Thrace Jews from the new lands. The overall number of the deported was 11,342. In order to reach the number 20,000, the Jews from the so-called old borders of Bulgaria had to be deported. But that did not happen thanks to the active intervention of the citizens of Kyustendil Petar Mihalev, Asen Suichmezov, Vladimir Kurtev, Ivan Momchilov and the deputy chairman of the 25th National Assembly Dimitar Peshev and the Bulgarian Orthodox Church. Before the deportation was canceled, the Jews in Plovdiv, Pazardzhik, Kyustendil, Dupnitsa, Yambol and Sliven were shut in barracks, tobacco warehouses and schools in order to be ready to be transported to the eastern provinces of The Third Reich. The arrests were made on the eve of 9th March. Thanks to the intervention of the people, the deportation of the Jews from the old borders of Bulgaria did not happen. The Jews in Dupnitsa were also arrested to be ready for deportation.

17 Annexation of Aegean Thrace to Bulgaria in WWII

The Treaty of Neuilly, imposed by the Entente on Bulgaria after WWI, deprived the country alongside with its WWI gains (Macedonia) also of its outlet to the Aegean Sea (Aegean Thrace) that had been a part of the country since the Balkan Wars (1912/13). King Boris III (1918-43) joined the Axis in 1941 with the hope to be able to regain the lost territories. Bulgarian troops marched into the neighboring Yugoslav Macedonia and Greek Thrace. Although the territorial gains were initially very popular in Bulgaria, complications soon arose in the occupied territories. The oppressive Bulgarian administration resulted in uprisings in both occupied lands. Jews were persecuted, their property was confiscated and they had to do forced labor. Although the Jews in Bulgaria proper were saved they were exterminated in the newly gained territories. Over 11.000 Jews from the Bulgarian administered northern Greek lands (Thrace and Macedonia), mainly from Drama, Seres, Dedeagach (Alexandroupolis), Gyumyurdjina (Komotini), Kavala and Xanthi were deported and murdered in death camps in Poland. About 2.200 Jews survived.

18 Yellow star in Bulgaria

According to a governmental decree all Bulgarian Jews were forced to wear distinctive yellow stars after 24th September 1942. Contrary to the German-occupied countries the stars in Bulgaria were made of yellow plastic or textile and were also smaller. Volunteers in previous wars, the war-disabled, orphans and widows of victims of wars, and those awarded the military cross were given the privilege to wear the star in the form of a button. Jews who converted to Christianity and their families were totally exempt. The discriminatory measures and persecutions ended with the cancellation of the Law for the Protection of the Nation on 17th August 1944.

19 Bulgarian Army in World War II

On 5th September 1944 the Soviet government declared war to Bulgaria which was an ally to Hitler Germany. In response to that act on 6th September the government of Konstantin Muraviev took the decision to cut off the diplomatic relations between Bulgaria and Germnay and to declare war to Germany. The Ministry Council made it clear in the decision that it came into effect from 8th September 1944. On 8th September the Soviet armies entered Bulgaria and the same evening a coup d'etat was organized in Sofia. The power was taken by the coalition of the Fatherland Front, consisting of communists, agriculturalists, social democrats, the political circle 'Zveno' (a former Bulgarian middleclass party). The participation of the Bulgarian army in the third stage of World War II was divided into two periods. The first one was from September to November 1944. 450 000 people were enlisted under the army flags and three armies were formed out of them, which were deployed on the western Bulgarian border. Those armies took place in the Nis and Kosovo advance operations and defeated a number of enemy units from the Nazi forces, parts of the 'E' group of armies and liberated significant territories from Southeast Serbia and Vardar Macedonia. The second period of the Bulgarian participation in the war was from December 1944 to May 1945. The specially formed First Bulgarian Army, including 130 000 soldiers took part in it. After regrouping the army took part in the fighting at Drava – Subolch. In the end of March the Bulgarian army started advancing and then pursuing the enemy until they reached the foot of the Austrian Alps. The overall Bulgarian losses in the war were 35 000 people.

20 Forced labor camps in Bulgaria

Established under the Council of Ministers’ Act in 1941. All Jewish men between the ages of 18–50, eligible for military service, were called up. In these labor groups Jewish men were forced to work 7-8 months a year on different road constructions under very hard living and working conditions.

21 Jewish municipalities in Bulgaria during World War II

Ever since the liberation of Bulgaria from Ottoman rule in 1878, Jewish municipalities have been formed if there were 20 Jewish families in a town. The municipality was headed by a synagogue board, which took care of charity and religious matters. Its mandate was three years and it included 5-6 people. There was also a school board selected in accordance with the Law on Education and the municipality council. The specific thing about Jewish municipalities was that they were not only religious, but also answered the educational, cultural, national and social needs of the Jews. In Bulgaria in 1936 the Jewish municipalities were 33. The largest one was the Sofia one, followed by the Plovdiv one, the Kyustendil one, the Vidin one, the Dupnitsa one, etc. Most of the Bulgarian Jews are Sephardi-Spanish-Portugal Jews and Ashkenazim Jews from Western Europe. Both communities believe in Judaism. The Jewish municipalities were supported by: 1) a religious tax – araha; 2) fees for various services and rituals; 3) fees for the issuing of documents. In the period of World War II and more specifically after the Commissariat for Jewish Affairs was created in Bulgaria in 1942, article 7 of its statute says: ‘The Jewish municipalities are governed by the Commissariat on Jewish Affairs. The Jewish municipalities are governed by consistories, consisting of a chairman and 4-6 Jewish members, all of them appointed by the Commissar on Jewish Affairs. Each consistory has a delegate appointed by the Commissar on Jewish Affairs. The delegate can be an official. In Sofia there is a central consistory consisting of a chairman and six Jewish members and a delegate of the Commissar. The orders of the delegate are obligatory for the consistory; they can be appealed by the consistory in front of the delegate of the central consistory, respectively, in front of the Commissar on Jewish Affairs. The Jewish municipalities are defined and act in accordance with regulations and instructions developed by the council on Jewish Affairs.

The task of the Jewish municipalities is to prepare the Jewish population for deportation. All Jewish non-profit initiatives such as synagogues, schools, charitable and sociable events for Jews, etc. are now under the supervision of the Jewish municipalities and their responsibility.’

In this way, from 1941 onwards with the adoption of the Law for Protection of the Nation and the Commissariat on Jewish Affairs, whose goal was to prepare the Jews for deportation, the function and the definition of the Jewish municipality in Bulgaria was changed. Before 1940 it had a social function, and after that it was used as an organizational structure implementing the anti-Jewish laws.

22 Joint (American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee)

The Joint was formed in 1914 with the fusion of three American Jewish aid committees, which were alarmed by the suffering of Jews during World War I. In late 1944, the Joint entered Europe’s liberated areas and organized a massive relief operation. It provided food for Jewish survivors all over Europe, it supplied clothing, books and school supplies for children. It supported the establishment of cultural meeting places, including libraries, theaters and gardens. It also provided religious supplies for the Jewish communities. The Joint also operated DP camps, in which it organized retraining programs to help people learn trades that would enable them to earn a living, while its cultural and religious activities helped re-establish Jewish life. The Joint was also closely involved in helping Jews to emigrate from European and Muslim countries. The Joint was expelled from East Central Europe for decades during the Cold War and it has only come back to many of these countries after the fall of communism. Today the Joint provides social welfare programs for elderly Holocaust survivors and encourages Jewish renewal and communal development.

Kofman Raikhchin

Kofman Raikhchin
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Olga Egudina
Date of interview: May 2006

I met Kofman Wolfovich in his cozy and hospitable apartment. It was rather difficult for me to settle the date of our meeting because Kofman Wolfovich leads a very active life. Meetings with friends, trips out of the city, visits to the synagogue - he has time and energy to do everything.

He speaks slowly and in low tones. Like a painter’s brush, his words draw for us first scenes of his childhood which he spent in a small provincial town, then terrible episodes of war. It is a great pleasure to meet Kofman Wolfovich and listen to him. No doubt we are very lucky that he agreed to share his memories with us.

My family background

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary 

My family background

I remember nothing about my great-grandmothers and great-grandfathers. I did not see them alive and I do not remember any stories about them.

The most distant relatives whom I remember are my paternal grandmother and my maternal grandfather. To tell the truth, I met my grandmother only several times. She lived in Turov town in Belarus, not far from us and came to visit us sometimes. Her name was Tsipere. Our family lived in Petrikov town (60 kilometers far from my grandmother’s place). Our towns were very much alike. At that time in Belarus there were many small towns where a great part of population was Jewish. There it was customary to give people nicknames according to the name of place they came from. For example my father was called Velvl de Babunichi (i.e. Velvl from Babunichi). Babunichi was a small village in Belarus. So now I know that my father was born in Babunichi. Only judging by his nickname I could understand where my father was from. Regarding my grandmother, I remember that she had a domineering disposition in the town. Her husband died early in life and I do not know how she earned for living. She had only 2 children. I say only, because at that time poor Jewish families used to have much more children. You know that nowadays a family with 2 children is considered to have many children.

Unfortunately I remember nothing about my father’s sister: I even forgot her name. I remember only that she and her husband lived in Baku [now Azerbaijan]. I also remember almost nothing about my mother’s parents. I was named in honor of my mother's father. So it becomes clear that he had died before I was born. He was a manager of woods at a rich Polish landowner Tadeush. Father told that sir Tadeush liked to play chess with my grandfather. My grandfather was a good player, but just in case (not to provoke wrath of sir Tadeush) he gave him odds. And the landowner used to discover his intentions and say ‘Oh you, cunning Jew!’ My grandfather had 16 children. I do not remember their names and details of their biographies. My information is most scanty. One of them was lost during the Russian Civil War of 1918-1920 1, the other one fell a prey to pogroms. Two of them emigrated to America during the first years after the Revolution of 1917. My parents corresponded with them till 1947, then their correspondence was interrupted, and I was afraid to recommence. I already studied at the College (it was in 1947), when I received a parcel from our American relatives. It contained clothing: unprecedented luxury in those times. But my College friends said ‘Be careful!’ - It is strange that nothing happened after that parcel: do you know how it was called? It was called relations with people who left abroad! Therefore I even did not thank them for the parcel. Sure, I am ashamed for it, but persons who lived in this country at that time can understand it.

Parents of my father were religious and my father inherited religiousness from them. He studied in cheder and later in yeshivah.

Sister of my father was younger than him; I do not remember her name. She lived in Baku (now Azerbaijan) together with her husband. She had 2 children.

I was born in 1924 in Petrikov town and lived there till the beginning of the war, when I was 17 years old.

Petrikov was a small town (its population was about 5,000). There lived quite a lot Jews: 1 Jewish school among 5 ones in total. I studied at that school during 7 years. The school was not just a traditional Jewish one, but Soviet-Jewish: they taught us in Yiddish, but never discussed religious topics. In our town there were woodworking plant and brickworks, therefore sidewalks were made of planks and roadways were made of bricks. I do not remember any consolidated Jewish community in our town. There were 2 synagogues: for men and for women. My father visited the synagogue regularly till 1937. There were no special Jewish residential areas in our town: people of different nationalities lived where they liked. Most Jews of our town were handicraftsmen, but I also remember many Jews in the government's employ.

The town was built on the River Pripyat, which became notorious all over the world for the Chernobyl disaster. [Chernobyl disaster was the largest damage of nuclear power station in the history of mankind: it resulted in atmospheric contamination in all European countries, and in particular the river Pripyat was poisoned.] Because of the original relief, the town was divided into 2 parts: upper and lower one. At first we lived in the lower part (low-lying lands) of the town. Every spring high water flooded that part of the town. Water reached window sills. It was impossible to stay at home. Therefore all members of our family moved (by boats) to our neighbors - Byelorussians, who lived a little bit higher. Sometimes we had to stay at our neighbors for a fortnight. Herefrom it becomes clear that our relations with neighbors were the most kind despite of nationalities. During my life in Petrikov I never came across any manifestations of anti-Semitism. I both never faced it myself and never watched anything of that kind regarding other people. Everybody respected one another, respected other's culture and religion. Many Russians and Belarussians spoke Yiddish.

In our house there were 3 rooms. We had no water or electricity supply. The house was heated by Russian stove 2, we used it also for cooking meals. We had rather large vegetable garden, which helped us very much: as who should say, it fed us. We always had a cow.

Several years later, when my father’s salary increased a little we managed to buy a house in the upper part of the town. At that time I was 7. In our new house there were 5 rooms and it seemed to us a palace. Parents placed a room at the boys’ disposal (to go in for photography). It was all that could be desired! There we also had a large vegetable garden and a large apple orchard.

My father worked as a supplier. He went round the neighboring villages by cart and bought dried mushrooms, berries, dressed skins and so forth. On the territory of the town market my father had a special room, where people from the neighboring villages could bring agricultural production and sell it to my father, earning some money for it. Later all products were put on sale.

Our family was very loyal politically, my parents never criticized actions of authorities, and at least they never did it in presence of their children. My father was always very interested in politics, both foreign and internal. He was a talented public speaker. When he started talking about something, people gathered around him (wherever it happened) to listen to his speech. I remember that during the civil war in Spain 3 my father made a fiery speech (I guess inspiration found him at the town market). The import of his speech was to hand land in Granada to peasants. [‘…To hand land in Granada to peasants’ is a citation from Granada, a poem by Michael Svetlov. Michael Svetlov (Sheynkman) was a Russian Soviet poet. He was born in 1903 and died in 1964.] Father suggested contributing to relief fund for Spanish republicans. And people immediately started collecting money.

Great Terror 4 did not leave our town aside. I remember quite well the following episode: in our kitchen stove at our place father is burning certificates of honor which he was awarded with during many years of his work. From conversation of my parents I understand that these certificates were signed by various important figures already shot by that time, and it is better to get rid of them to get out of harm's way.

At school every morning was begun with a question: ‘Whose father was arrested this night?’ It was very seldom when nobody was taken away. And you understand that it happened in our small town!

Celebration of Russian religious holidays always came to the same end: some Russian neighbor came running to us to save herself from being beaten by her drunk husband. On revolutionary holidays (November 7 5 and May 1) they arranged demonstrations, which I always participated in. [May 1 was the state holiday in the USSR: the Day of the International Solidarity of Workers.]

Our family observed kashrut. Several Jewish women used to buy a ram by clubbing together and take it to shochet. They did the same with hens. They used to send children for easier purchases. Before Pesach women made matzah by turns in every Jewish house. It turned out that Russian stove just touched the spot for making matzah.

My father was born in 1890. His name was Velvl (Wolf) Raikhchin. He finished cheder and yeshivah. Father participated in the World War I, was taken prisoner, moved to Germany and worked there for a German burgher as an assistant on his farm. He lived there for about 3 years, having kept warmest memoirs about the owner. These memoirs nearly cost him his head, when the Great Patriotic War burst out 6. But I am going to tell you about it in due time.

After my father was delivered from captivity, he arrived in Petrikov. I do not know the reason why he chose Petrikov: I guess it was the nearest settlement larger than his native village. He began working as a supplier. Later he became a manager at the regional food products warehouse. A special building was constructed for it. It was large and made of bricks. In this country people always lacked food products (both during war and peace time). Therefore a person who was a master at a food products warehouse always (so to say) stood high esteem of everybody around. For example, a municipal official came to him and asked his assistance in buying a bottle of vodka. Well, was it possible to refuse? But father tried to decrease this sort of contacts to the lowest notch. By the way, thanks to my father’s position we sometimes had an opportunity to go by a lorry which delivered food products to shops.

Father tried to teach me religion and tradition, but unfortunately I was interested in it very little.

My Mum was born at the end of 1890s. Her name was Haya, nee Fridman. Most probably she was born in Poland. By the time of father’s return from the front line, she already lived in Petrikov, and I don’t know how she had got there. Their marriage was arranged by matchmaker (shadkhan). They got married in 1921. Their wedding took place in the synagogue according to tradition (chuppah, etc.).

Mum was very kind, very attentive and full of love to her children. We often got ill and she nursed us, regardless of her own health. She had to keep large house and vegetable garden, take care about the cow. All this adversely affected her health and Mum died an early death from heart disease: she was a little over forty. It happened in 1940. I remember that during her funeral ceremony father suddenly said ‘Nobody knows where our bones will lie.’ You know, his words appeared to be prophetical: neither he, nor his elder son happened to be buried beside her.

Father was much more strict than Mum. His life was also not easy. He assumed obligations for hard work at home. He had to saw and cut fire wood, to bring water for vegetable garden! He never beat his children, but sometimes he gave us fits.

Mother tongue of my parents was Yiddish. We all spoke only Yiddish at home. Naturally I considered Yiddish to be my mother tongue, too. When I entered College, I had to fill in a questionnaire, there I wrote Yiddish regarding my mother tongue. The Head of the 1st department sent for me and said ‘You’d better change it for something better.’ [In the USSR 1st departments were responsible for keeping vigilant watch over loyalty of employees. The 1st department of each institution was closely connected with NKVD 7 and KGB 8.]

My father visited synagogue regularly. Mum went there very seldom and children never did it. Moreover, at our Jewish school there was a group named Light Horse. To my shame I was its member. We had to go along the streets and look into windows to find people celebrating Pesach or Shabbath. We were obliged to explain them their mistakes.

At home we celebrated all Jewish holidays and every Shabbath. You know, as is customary at Jewish house, you can be hungry all the week long, but on Saturday you will have chicken, gefilte fish, etc. on your table. As for me, most of all I liked Pesach. I liked both meal and action with asking questions, searching afikoman, etc. All boys of our family were circumcised, but parents did not arrange bar mitzvah for us: there came a time when it was dangerous.

At home we never had any assistants. To tell the truth, all children from early age did everything to be best of their ability.

Financial position of our family was more than modest. Only father earned money, having 4 children. I know it for sure that without vegetable garden and the cow we would be not able to survive.

Members of our family had no idea about holidays. On days off father brought us to woods. Woods around our town were very good; they were very close to houses. We liked to collect mushrooms and berries very much, they were of great use for our family in winter: we used to dry mushrooms. I do not remember Mum making jam: I guess sugar was too expensive.

My parents never wore traditional clothes. They always put on very modest secular clothes.

At home there were only religious and children's books. Number of religious books was great. When I studied at the Jewish school, we read books in Yiddish written by Jewish children's writers. Later we began to read in Russian and in Belarus language. We had no system in reading: there was nobody to advise. For example, Mum never read books. As for me, I was an active reader of school library. I was interested in books of cognitive character: reference books, encyclopedias. I borrowed them from our school library. Father subscribed for the Der Emis (it means The Truth) newspaper in Yiddish. It was published in Moscow. Besides father always demanded that children should bring daily newspapers (central and Belarus). So every morning we ran to a newsstand to buy lots of newspapers. When I grew up a little, I began reading Pionerskaya Pravda children’s newspaper.

One of mother’s sisters lived in our city (I do not remember her name). She often visited us. She was much more educated, than my parents, therefore we liked to have a talk with her on different topics, we asked her about everything and she answered our questions willingly.

Growing up

When I was little, I did not attend a kindergarten, I stayed at home with Mum, my brothers and my sister. I do not remember Mum amusing us by doing something special. But we were in good health. We always had what to do about the house and in the vegetable garden irrespective of age: weeding, watering, destruction of caterpillars and Colorado beetles, protection of vegetables and fruit from crows, and again weeding.

I went to school at the age of 6. I was not a child prodigy, but I had an elder brother (he was 2 years older than me). We attended cheder together with him. To tell the truth cheder was at our place: melamed visited us at home. In 1930 authorities started struggle against religion 9 and parents stopped inviting melamed. It was time for my brother to go to school, and there was no place for me to go, therefore parents sent us together to the same class. Our school was Jewish, all subjects were taught in Yiddish. Russian was taught as a foreign language. At our school there was a very good director Pachevsky. Teachers were qualified and respected children. I was very good at chemistry. I remember a teacher of mathematics: a real dragon, but a square shooter and a very good teacher. And our director taught us both Russian and Yiddish. By the way they studied in yeshivah together with my father in their time. And one more: in Leningrad I studied in the same students’ group with the nephew of our director. It's a small world, indeed!

Besides my school I had many hobbies. In our town there was a special institution named Children's Technical Station. I attended there groups of aircraft modeling and radio one. There were a lot of sports groups, too. I went in for track and field athletics at the stadium. Most friends of mine were my schoolmates: some of them were elder, others were younger than me. During our studies in the groups teachers spoke their mother tongues: sometimes Russian, sometimes Belarus language, and sometimes Yiddish. I never went anywhere for vacation.

I was an Oktyabrenok 10, and a pioneer 11, and a Komsomol member 12.

In 1937 when I finished the 7th class, our school became extinct as a Jewish one. [In 1918 Soviet authorities permitted national minorities to teach their children at schools in their mother tongue. But in 1938 they issued an edict ordering to teach all schoolchildren in Russian.] It became Belarussian. There came a lot of children who finished rural seven-year schools. Teachers started teaching in Belarus language, and Russian was still taught as a foreign language. Here I’d like to tell you that my sister studied at our Jewish school her first three years, and then parents sent her to a Russian school, though by that time our Jewish school still functioned. You see, parents understood that studies at a Jewish school give no good outlook for a child. Other parents understood it too and stopped sending their children to the Jewish school.

Now I’d like to tell you about my brothers and sisters.

My elder brother Paltiel was born in 1922. He did not come back from war: he was killed in 1944 in Lithuania. My brother was prodigy. At school he was interested in physics, mathematics, and astronomy. He studied at different circles together with me. He was my first and best friend. I am sure Paltiel could have achieved much, but he was killed so early in life. He left for front from Petrikov. Later we left for evacuation and knew nothing about him (he knew nothing about us, too). At that time a radiobroadcast was devoted to people bereaved of their relatives. Thanks to that broadcast, my brother found us, and we corresponded till the day of his death.

My sister Sofiya was born in 1926 in Petrikov (like all of us). She studied at Jewish school, then at Russian one. After the end of the war she returned to Petrikov. They found a groom for her in Bobruisk (oh, that everlasting fame of shadkhanim!). That person (his family name was Zaichik) was a loyal supporter of soviet political regime all his life long. He held a high post in the national education institution. When authorities started struggling against cosmopolitism 13, he was dismissed and sent to a school in the suburb of the town as a teacher. Soon he became a director of that school. But as soon as it became possible to emigrate to Israel, he immediately got ready for a trip to Israel. People tried to persuade him to stay here, he was offered different posts, but he was inexorable. He said ‘I cannot live in the country which treated me that way.’ They left in 1979 with their 3 sons. My sister did not study anywhere after school, but she managed to master profession of bookkeeper without any assistance.

My second brother Isaac was born in 1928 in Petrikov. By the beginning of the war he finished only 4 classes. When we reached the terminal of our evacuation (Uzbekistan), my sister got fixed up in a job as a bookkeeper. She was very sociable, quickly began speaking Uzbek language, enjoyed esteem and love of local residents. One day an Uzbek made a strange request: he asked her to let our younger brother Isaac go with him. He was engaged in supplying activity, as our father did in Petrikov. He had to go from one distant mountain village to another, therefore he needed assistant. So my brother spent with him all the time we were in evacuation. We saw him only occasionally. He enjoyed his life, did not miss us very much, and made a lot of new friends. After evacuation my brother returned to Petrikov together with us, but soon he remained there alone: I left Petrikov for study, Sofiya got married and left for Bobruisk, and Daddy had already died by that time.

After a while Isaac moved to Sofiya (to Bobruisk), but it turned out to be uncomfortable for him. I suggested him to come to my place in Leningrad. He arrived and some time we lived together with him in our hostel, but he had no residence permit 14. Therefore he found a factory where they gave that sort of permit and a place in a hostel. It was a factory for processing leather. My brother finished secondary school without attending lectures, and entered Technical School for light industry employees. [Technical School in the USSR and a number of other countries was a special educational institution preparing specialists of middle level for various industrial and agricultural institutions, transport, communication, etc.] After the Technical School he graduated form the Textile College and worked at one of the Leningrad factories. In 1988 he left for Israel together with his son (his wife had died by that time).

During my childhood we were friends mainly with my elder brother. We were together all the time: at school, at home - everywhere.

During the war

But now we’d better go back in June of 1941. My brother and I finished the 10th class. We felt like quite adult and important. Several days we spent walking around the town together with our former schoolmates talking about our future and making plans. On June 22, 1941 (Sunday) at noon I heard some noise in the street. We had no radio at home, but our neighbors heard Molotov’s speech 15 and ran out of their houses. By the way, early in the morning on June 22 many citizens heard drone of airplanes and bursts of bombs, but everybody thought it was military exercise.

Next day we together with all our classmates went to the local military registration and enlistment office. [Military registration and enlistment offices in the USSR and in Russia are special institutions that implement call-up plans.] They enlisted almost every boy, except me: I was the youngest (only 17 years old). My brother Paltiel was among the called up boys.

I joined the Komsomol Battalion. Its task was to go round the neighboring villages and ask peasants, whether they noticed enemy spies. I was given a nearly blind horse and a rifle that dated back to the time of civil war. I did not manage to find a spy.

Day by day the front line approached our town. There appeared first victims: people occupied in building protective constructions around the town, were shot from planes.

Soon the town started preparing for evacuation. One of officials of high rank in our town was our relative: his surname was Zaretsky. He convinced Jews to evacuate. But my father refused flatly, he told everybody that when he was in captivity during the World War I, the owner of the farm where he worked was very good to him. Many Jews of Petrikov also considered life under Germans to be much better in compare with Soviet regime. I guess that many Jews were saved thanks to the following circumstance: after occupation of Poland [on September 1, 1939 Germany invaded Poland] through our territory there passed many Jews forced to leave their native places. From their stories it became clear that times had changed completely and that Jews would not expect anything good in case of German occupation. Therefore many Jews of Petrikov started preparing for evacuation. My father had a good reason not to leave: he considered himself standing sentinel, because products from his food warehouse were delivered to neighboring woods for partisan groups.

On July 5 the first barge with evacuating people left (among them there were communist party workers with their families and plenty of luggage). Early in the morning on July 19 Zaretsky came to our house on horseback. He talked to my father in Yiddish:
- Velvl, leave immediately, save your children.
- I cannot do it, I keep the keys from warehouse.
- Give me the keys and make all ready for leaving. In half an hour I’ll send a lorry to you.
So we moved to the station. There was a heated goods van, ready for departure. [A heated goods van was a freight car adapted for transportation of people.] That was the way I went by train for the first time in my life.

Later we got to know that about 400 Jews remained in our town. Later all of them were executed by shooting.

At first we arrived in a collective farm in Tambov area 16. There we (several families from Petrikov) started working in the field. Less than in a month it became clear that Germans approached quickly, therefore we decided to go farther to Uzbekistan. Our way was long and painful, but at last we found ourselves in Samarkand area, in some kishlak. [Kishlak is a rural settlement in Central Asia.]

My father started working as a shepherd, my sister got fixed in a job of a bookkeeper, and I already told you about my brother Isaac. As for me, I started working at the anti-malaria station. I was obliged to go round the local residents and distribute anti-malaria medicine. I was usually cheered by the following: ‘Doctor is here!’ I also had to spray oil over the surface of water reservoirs to destroy malarial gnat-worms. I guess I managed my task, because during my work there were almost no cases of malaria. The malicious irony of fate was hidden in the fact that when I already was at the front line (in 1943), my father got ill with malaria and died.

Once on my way a batman-rider found me and handed over a call-up paper from the local military registration and enlistment office. It happened in August 1942.

But I got to the front line not in a day. At first they sent me to Samarkand to take a course organized for inexperienced soldiers. After that course I was put down for allowances as a soldier of regiment ready to leave for the front line. But for some reason the regiment departure was postponed, therefore I was sent to Ashkhabad to School of Junior Leaders. A lot of junior commanding officers were lost at the very beginning of the war, therefore there was lack of that sort of officers. I finished that School and (as I had secondary education) was sent to the courses for commanders of middle level. I spent in Andizhan 3 months studying there. After that I waited for appointment for several months and at last was detached for service at the Reserve officer regiment of the Western front. They informed me only about its staff location: it was in Tula. So I left for Tula. It happened in April 1943.

I do not remember why we made the first stop in Yasnaya Polyana. [Yasnaya Polyana is a homestead of Lev Tolstoy 17. In 1941 during 2 weeks it was occupied by fascists. They placed there a German military hospital. Fascists buried their dead soldiers near the tomb of Tolstoy. Crosses with swastika stroke our eyes.

In Tula I found the army headquarters not without difficulty. There I was told that I was appointed the commander of the rifle regiment #529 (army #50). So I had the only aim: to find that regiment in the fields of action. And I started having a haversack and a document which allowed me to get C. ration. From time to time I met fellow travelers, sometimes I saw local residents who were coming back to their liberated settlements. On the front road junctions I saw direction signs like Smirnov’s Disposition or Artamonov's Disposition. That was the veiled way to name military units. I hardly found out that Artamonov's Disposition was the very place I needed. At last I got there after many days of wandering.

My platoon was located on the fringe of the forest. At that time operations were of local character. We had to suppress centers of resistance of retreating Germans. Thanks God, our losses were not bad. Soon we passed to the offensive, which was over by the end of September. Last fights which took place several kilometers away from the left coast of Dneper, were especially bloody. In my platoon there remained less than half of soldiers’ number. In order to get prepared for the following fights, we stopped in the wood near the front line (near the River Pronya). It was interesting to watch the way people immediately rendered that forest habitable: there appeared tents, dugouts, earth-houses. These earth-houses saved many lives when the enemy airplane started bombing. No people were killed, but 4 horses were lost. Suddenly bombardment stopped for some reason. We went on living there, and lived even comfortably: besides field-kitchens we had a bath-house, a hairdresser's, a place for repair of uniforms. Soldiers watched films. But all the time we kept the army regulations strictly. I used to set a guard in the zone of our regiment. One evening I was walking from one post to another and heard a hail ‘Stop! Who’s coming?’ I had no time to answer and heard the report of a gun. The bullet twanged in the air a centimeter away from my ear. Later the soldier confessed to be asleep at the switch. He awoke from dream and fired a shot automatically. We did not punish him.

Fresh forces were young people from liberated territories, who reached call-up age during the years of occupation. But sometimes we came across adult men: deserters and polizei soldiers. [During the Great Patriotic War people in occupied territories called a local resident serving in fascist police a polizei.]

Their fate was decided by special services.

They lacked boots for new soldiers, therefore some recruits joined the ranks wearing bast shoes. [Bast shoes are Russian country wicker footwear made of bark of young deciduous trees].

Meanwhile they set us the next task: to force a crossing over the river and attack enemy troops on the high opposite bank. They gave each soldier a new submachine gun and two reserve cartridge-drums.

One day before the dawn they gave us combat 100 g of vodka [this portion of vodka was usual for soldiers of the Soviet army before a fight]. Rockets Katyusha started their two-hour preparation fire. [Katyusha was informal name of the soviet rocket launcher mounted on a lorry. In 1941-1945 during the Great Patriotic War they played an important role in operations.] So the soldiers crossed the river and pinned down on the opposite steep bank.

On a signal the platoon went in to the attack. Fascists fired at us using all kinds of weapon: guns, mortars, machine guns. Suddenly a shell explode in front of me, I smelled burning and fell down. By that time our soldiers captured enemy’s emplacement, but bombardment went on. After a while sanitary instructor found me and tried to take me away from the battlefield alone. I said ‘It’s useless, leave me here, call hospital attendants.’ He answered ‘I have no right to leave you here alone; I am obliged to take an officer to the hospital alive or dead.’ Probably he meant the order, notorious as Not retreat a step. [In August 1942 Stalin signed an order #227 more known as Not retreat a step, which allowed commanders and special groups to shoot soldiers who retreated without an order. They considered injured people who remained on a battlefield to be retreating, too.]

But he did not manage to move me alone, therefore he hardly dragged me into the deep shell-hole nearby and threw branches over me. It happened early in the morning. It became already dark, when I heard a voice ‘Comrade commander!’ By that time I lost my voice and could not respond. After a while a sanitary instructor and 4 hospital attendants came across me and carried me to the hospital.

It is difficult to imagine hospital if you never saw it. It was a huge tent with operational tables standing very close to each other. At each of them surgeons struggled against death. They sawed off hands and legs, disinfected the intestines which dropped out of the abdominal cavity. Surgeons had no idea about day or night time. They spent all the time at the tables. In my body they found 9 shell splinters. They managed to extract only some of them, the others are still inside my body. They immediately made blood transfusion. Later in hospitals they made it several times more and each time they named the donor. My saviors were women from Vologda, Kostroma and other places of Russia - women exhausted by starvation and uncertainty about destinies of their relatives, who replaced their fighting husbands at workplaces. My gratitude to all of them!

So I had to stay in the front hospital for a month: I was non-transportable. Later I was moved to hospitals in Klimovichi, Tula, Kazan. In the Kazan hospital I spent 6 months. I’ll never forget concern shown for injured men by medical personnel: from a nurse up to the chief medical officer.

While I was in evacuation, studied and was at war, I never came across any manifestations of anti-Semitism. But in hospitals sometimes I felt some anti-Semitic tinge. Injured people liked to tell funny stories about Jews, where Jews were shown in unfavorable light. Now I understand that they had no malicious intent, some of them probably knew nothing about Jews. But at that time it was very unpleasant to me, because I never came across something similar earlier.

In May 1943 I left the hospital walking on crutches and having a certificate of disabled soldier and 2 government awards: Order of the Great Patriotic War (I Class) 18 and a Medal for Military Merits 19.

I reached the kishlak in Samarkand area, where my sister lived. By that time my father was already dead. My sister (who worked as a bookkeeper from the beginning of the war) taught me accounting. I got fixed in a job at the office which was engaged in purchase of grain, and worked there quite successfully. We lived in that kishlak in a very interesting premise: a long wattle and daub house divided into compartments. Formerly (when in Uzbekistan polygamy was authorized) each compartment was intended for one of the wives of the harem. So we lived in one of those compartments till the end of the war. When the war was finished, we decided to return home (to Petrikov). In August 1945 we started our trip.

After the war

The town did not suffer severe destructions. Our house remained safe, but it was impossible to live in it: doorframes were taken out, floors were partly disassembled. We decided not to repair our house, but to sell it and to rent a smaller one: by that time our family was no more as large as it was before the war burst out. In the town there appeared Jewish families, but they were families which returned from evacuation. I already mentioned that fascists executed by shooting all Jews who remained in Petrikov. I started working as a bookkeeper. In the town there was a newspaper Stalinskaya Pravda. Rose Shusterman, a young lady and my schoolmate was an editor-in-chief. She helped me to become an employee at that newspaper. I worked in several places more as a part-time worker therefore I managed to earn for living.

In our town there were no anti-Semitic manifestations (neither before the war). Once I had to work as a teller before elections to the Supreme Soviet of the Soviet Union. I made speeches at different meetings and incited people to vote for the block of communists and at-large candidates (at that time they called it this way). My electoral district included an orthodox church. I went there and asked the priest to invite his parish to vote. He understood my request. Later he often visited me at home, especially when I was ill. In Petrikov people paid no attention to nationalities or religious traditions.

But I did not want to work as a bookkeeper all my life long. Therefore I decided to go to Leningrad to study. I wanted to study at the College for Cinema Engineers, but I got to know that they had no hostel for nonresident students. So I chose the Leningrad College for Fine Mechanics and Optics. [The Leningrad College for Fine Mechanics and Optics was founded in 1930.] I arrived in Leningrad and filed my documents. My certificate was full of excellent marks, therefore I was taken in without entrance examinations. I studied there for 6 years and showed interest in future profession. I had a lot of friends, but I never paid any attention to their nationality. So I cannot tell you, which of my friends was Russian and which one was Jewish. The same was during all my life. For example my close friend (we were friends since we were students of the 3rd course) was Russian. We made friends according to our interests: someone was at war (it was possible to talk to him about war); the other one was my fellow countryman, etc.

After graduating from the College they sent me 20 to Kharkov to work at the factory which belonged to sensitive areas of national defense: it had no name, but only a number - 201. [In the USSR numbered institutions worked on confidential, usually military subjects.] In 1950s in the USSR there appeared a new industry branch - rocket production (our factory was founded in connection with it). That sphere of knowledge was not only new, but also a priority one, therefore they invited only intelligent graduates. At first they suggested me to go to Komsomolsk-on-Amur, but I wanted to go to Kharkov: it seemed to me that I could find very interesting work there. The factory manager came to Leningrad himself to find young specialists. He looked through my documents and agreed to take me. In total 10 graduates from our College were sent to that factory and 4 of them were Jewish.

At the factory I wanted to work at the design office, but they sent me to a workshop as a foreman. Today it is an open secret that our factory worked out and produced radio equipment for rockets (both ground, and on-board). We sent our production to Dnepropetrovsk, where they assembled rockets.

Here it is necessary to tell you that by the moment of my arrival to Kharkov I was already a married person. Among the students we associated with I met a girl whom I fell in love with at once. To my pleasure, she returned my love. She studied at the Pedagogical College named after Hertzen (department of Russian language and literature). We got married in Leningrad immediately after presentation of my degree work. Maiden name of my wife was Ginzburg, her name is Natalia Alexandrovna. She was born in Leningrad in 1929. During the 1st year after our marriage we lived separately: I left for Kharkov to work there, and my wife had to study at her last course. We visited each other on vacations. Later she graduated and moved to my place (to Kharkov). She worked at the Ukrainian school and had a good reputation.

In Kharkov they were obliged to put a room at my disposal, because I was a young specialist. Therefore I got a room in the two-room apartment (the other room was occupied by my young colleague and his young wife). We lived in harmony: no quarrels, no conflicts. I worked in Kharkov 4 years and decided to return to Leningrad, but it appeared to be not so simple. They told me that I worked at the defense industry enterprise and would go on working as long as they needed. The factory manager had a domineering disposition and was very competent. During the war he arranged work of evacuated factories in the Urals and was awarded honorary title of Hero of Socialist Labor. I held him in high respect and did not want to come into conflict. In the meantime in 1956 some changes were made in the labor legislation, and the procedure of dismissal became simpler. Here I’d like to tell you that I am pleased with the Kharkov period of my life: my work went well, I was valued according to it and people held me in respect.

We moved to Leningrad and settled down in the communal apartment 21 in my wife’s room. By that time we were already a family of 3.

The only child of us was our son Alexander; he was born in Kharkov in 1955. He finished his high school having good marks. After school he entered the Leningrad College for Fine Mechanics and Optics. Since his childhood he was very sickly, and I know it from my own experience that a student of the Leningrad College for Fine Mechanics and Optics had to do everything in his power to manage. He had to fulfill strong requirements, study many difficult subjects, make plenty of drawings, etc. Therefore having finished the 1st course, my son decided that he would not be able to pass through exams and left the College. He started working as a draftsman (he had enough time to master it at the College) at the Army Medical College. [The Army Medical College was founded in 1798.] Later he trained for a new profession of repairman of medical equipment and entered Military Mechanical College. [Military Mechanical College in Leningrad was founded in 1875.] He graduated from it studying by correspondence. [Correspondence course allowed students to study and work simultaneously.] On graduating from the College he wanted to remain at the Army Medical College, but to work as an engineer. But they refused, and everybody understood that the reason was the so-called item 5 22. Therefore he continued to work there holding his previous post, which did not require to have higher education.

In 1990s he decided to change profession and entered Polygraphic Technical School, which he finished with excellent marks. [Technical schools appeared in the USSR to prepare employees of middle level for industrial, agricultural and other organizations.] Since then he works as a proof-reader at different publishing houses. He is a highly respectable worker: because of his engineering education he can make various scientific texts ready for publication. He is married, but unfortunately they have no children.

We did not bring our son up as a Jew. Certainly he knew that he was Jewish. You see, it is rather difficult to forget about it living in the Soviet Union. As soon as you do, they will remind you. Later I’ll tell you how my son helped me in my Jewish affairs.

Having returned to Leningrad, I started working in one of institutions which belonged to sensitive areas of national defense (now it is named the Institute of Distant Radio Navigation). It was easy for me to find job, because of my previous working experience: a person from Kharkov special institution was welcomed everywhere in our sphere. I worked there 40 years up to my pension: I retired on pension in 1997, by that time I was 73 years old. There were no manifestations of anti-Semitism at our institute. You see, its director was a person who always took Jews into his institute. And in fact in the USSR there were times when it was not easy for a Jew to be employed. Once a personnel manager of our institute told the director that he was not able to take in a guy because of the item 5 22. Director answered ‘Well, then it is necessary for me to go to the local Party committee and let them explain me what item 5 means.’ And that guy was immediately taken in, because in fact the instruction not to take Jews was secrete. As for me, I remember some insignificant troubles, but in comparison with the situation at other organizations it was trifle, not worth speaking about.

One day a large group of 150 persons were going to be presented with government awards for some successful work. Placing of awards was up to the institute administration. I was recommended for Order of Honor, but the local Communist Party committee did not approve it. As a result, I was awarded only a medal. And during the Six-Day-War 23 at one of our meetings they decided to hold up to shame Israeli aggressors. I stood up and said that it was not an aggression, but a preventive action of the country surrounded by hostile neighbors. Immediately I was called a nationalist, and they stopped inviting me to meetings for half a year. You may consider it strange that despite of all this I speak about absence of anti-Semitism in our institute. Be sure that in comparison with other Soviet institutions we (Jews) enjoyed an earthly paradise in our institute. I often made business trips. We often sailed by ships on the Baltic Sea and tested our equipment.

My wife worked at school, but she retired on pension much earlier than me: it happened in 1979, when she was 50 years old. You know that school teachers have the right to retire before the generally accepted pension age. [In the USSR and Russia women retire on pension at the age of 55.]

In summer we never went to the south. Our son was often sick, and doctors did not recommend us to change climate. We used to rent a room somewhere in Leningrad region and spent summer time there. My wife had long annual leave and spent there all summer together with our son, and I managed to be with them only during one month.

To tell the truth, when I became a pensioner I was bored for lack of an occupation. And I had a friend, a Jew. In contrast to me, he knew much about the Jewish life of our city: he visited Hesed Avraham Welfare Center 24 and the synagogue. He spent his free time working at the Nadezhda factory: a small factory at Hesed Center producing wheelchairs, crutches, canes and other things useful for elderly and disabled people. Understanding my low spirits, my friend brought me to that factory. I liked to be there and started working as a designer. I received no money for my work: we all were volunteers. I worked there about 7 years. I made business trips. It was interesting for me, because I made myself useful. But later everything changed there: they started doing business and I did not like it. They started paying workers, while when I came there for the first time, there worked only volunteers. It seemed to me, that after that something very important disappeared, the spirit of workers group changed and I did not want to work there any more.

As soon as I began working at the Nadezhda factory, I identified myself as a Jew. You understand of course that I am joking now: I never forgot about it, but before I knew nothing about the Jewish community of the city. In Hesed I got to know that at the synagogue there was a group for studying basis of Judaism. I went there and found it good. I have been studying there already for several years. We begin at 9 o'clock in the morning with a pray (chief rabbi is at the head of it). I like listening to rabbi singing, I like his pretty voice. Listening to him, I always recollect my father praying. After praying there come teachers from yeshvah. They tell us about the week’s Torah portion, Jewish holidays, and history of our people. We study in homelike atmosphere: people argue, ask questions. Most of the group members are pensioners.

And earlier I visited synagogue very seldom, even not every year. We did not celebrate Jewish holidays, did not observe Tradition. But since 1980 we celebrate Seder at home. Our family is not large (we have no relatives), but we invite our friends and in total we gather about 20 persons. Natalia Alexandrovna prepares snacks, and I am responsible for spiritual part. We do not observe kashrut strictly, but we never eat neither pork, nor sausage.

About 8 years ago together with my friend Rem Altshuller we decided to found an organization devoted to memory of Holocaust victims and history of Jewish heroism. That was the opportunity for my son to render us invaluable assistance: he found for us interesting information in different libraries, spent many hours searching in the Internet. At first we wanted to organize our work at Hesed, but its director said no. Please don’t ask me why: I do not understand it. Sephardi organization lodged us. Their rabbi Rabaev put a room at our disposal. There functions an exhibition and a library. Pupils of Jewish schools, Jewish businessmen often visit us, and they like our exhibition.

During all my life I had friends of different nationalities. It never came into my mind to choose friends according to nationality. Some of my friends married Russian girls, and their Russian wives became my friends. I don’t know if it was possible for me to marry not a Jewess, but I chose my wife thinking not about her nationality - be sure! We have no relatives in Leningrad after departure of my brother.

Now I’d like to tell you what I think about the major events in our country and in the world. During the Doctors’ Plot 25 I was in Kharkov. Moral environment was painful. People claimed that there were cases of assaults against doctors (fights and beatings). Heads of our institute started eliminating Jews from the Party and even discharging them.

When Stalin died, I considered it to be a disaster for Soviet people. I was afraid that all capitalist countries would attack the USSR and tear it to pieces. In the central square of Kharkov there was a meeting: people came on their own, nobody invited them. Almost everybody cried. And one of my colleagues came up to me and said ‘Have you heard that Yossi has died?’

I can’t explain it, but I paid no attention to the Hungarian events 26. First, we had just moved to Leningrad and I had enough to worry about. Second, I had no company to discuss it with, and from the Soviet newspapers it was difficult to understand something. And regarding throw of tanks to Czechoslovakia 27 I understood everything well: the USSR had no reason for that. By that time I already had friends and discussed the situation with them in details.

During the Israeli wars [23, 28] my sympathies were completely on the side of Israel.

I took the news about Perestroika with enthusiasm. We often listened to Radio Liberty 29 through the noise [in the USSR they used to jam western radio broadcasts by means of special devices], therefore we knew what happened in the world and understood the way war-lords were going. When Gorbachev appeared 30, I was glad that he was trying to break this dangerous tendency.  

I already mentioned about my connections with the Jewish community of Petersburg. We receive food packages from Hesed Center for holidays. I never received any help from other organizations.

Glossary:

1 Civil War (1918-1920)

The Civil War between the Reds (the Bolsheviks) and the Whites (the anti-Bolsheviks), which broke out in early 1918, ravaged Russia until 1920. The Whites represented all shades of anti-communist groups – Russian army units from World War I, led by anti-Bolshevik officers, by anti-Bolshevik volunteers and some Mensheviks and Social Revolutionaries. Several of their leaders favored setting up a military dictatorship, but few were outspoken tsarists. Atrocities were committed throughout the Civil War by both sides. The Civil War ended with Bolshevik military victory, thanks to the lack of cooperation among the various White commanders and to the reorganization of the Red forces after Trotsky became commissar for war. It was won, however, only at the price of immense sacrifice; by 1920 Russia was ruined and devastated. In 1920 industrial production was reduced to 14% and agriculture to 50% as compared to 1913.

2 Russian stove

Big stone stove stoked with wood. They were usually built in a corner of the kitchen and served to heat the house and cook food. It had a bench that made a comfortable bed for children and adults in wintertime.
Struggle against religion: The 1930s was a time of anti-religion struggle in the USSR. In those years it was not safe to go to synagogue or to church. Places of worship, statues of saints, etc. were removed; rabbis, Orthodox and Roman Catholic priests disappeared behind KGB walls.

3 Spanish Civil War (1936-39)

A civil war in Spain, which lasted from July 1936 to April 1939, between rebels known as Nacionales and the Spanish Republican government and its supporters. The leftist government of the Spanish Republic was besieged by nationalist forces headed by General Franco, who was backed by Nazi Germany and fascist Italy. Though it had
Spanish nationalist ideals as the central cause, the war was closely watched around the world mainly as the first major military contest between left-wing forces and the increasingly powerful and heavily armed fascists. The number of people killed in the war has been long disputed ranging between 500,000 and a million.

4 Great Terror (1934-1938)

During the Great Terror, or Great Purges, which included the notorious show trials of Stalin's former Bolshevik opponents in 1936-1938 and reached its peak in 1937 and 1938, millions of innocent Soviet citizens were sent off to labor camps or killed in prison. The major targets of the Great Terror were communists. Over half of the people who were arrested were members of the party at the time of their arrest. The armed forces, the Communist Party, and the government in general were purged of all allegedly dissident persons; the victims were generally sentenced to death or to long terms of hard labor. Much of the purge was carried out in secret, and only a few cases were tried in public ‘show trials’. By the time the terror subsided in 1939, Stalin had managed to bring both the Party and the public to a state of complete submission to his rule. Soviet society was so atomized and the people so fearful of reprisals that mass arrests were no longer necessary. Stalin ruled as absolute dictator of the Soviet Union until his death in March 1953.

5 October Revolution Day

October 25 (according to the old calendar), 1917 went down in history as victory day for the Great October Socialist Revolution in Russia. This day is the most significant date in the history of the USSR. Today the anniversary is celebrated as ‘Day of Accord and Reconciliation’ on November 7.

6 Great Patriotic War

On 22nd June 1941 at 5 o’clock in the morning Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union without declaring war. This was the beginning of the so-called Great Patriotic War. The German blitzkrieg, known as Operation Barbarossa, nearly succeeded in breaking the Soviet Union in the months that followed. Caught unprepared, the Soviet forces lost whole armies and vast quantities of equipment to the German onslaught in the first weeks of the war. By November 1941 the German army had seized the Ukrainian Republic, besieged Leningrad, the Soviet Union's second largest city, and threatened Moscow itself. The war ended for the Soviet Union on 9th May 1945.

7 NKVD

People’s Committee of Internal Affairs; it took over from the GPU, the state security agency, in 1934.
8 KGB: The KGB or Committee for State Security was the main Soviet external security and intelligence agency, as well as the main secret police agency from 1954 to 1991.
9 Struggle against religion: The 1930s was a time of anti-religion struggle in the USSR. In those years it was not safe to go to synagogue or to church. Places of worship, statues of saints, etc. were removed; rabbis, Orthodox and Roman Catholic priests disappeared behind KGB walls.

10 Young Octobrist

In Russian Oktyabrenok, or ‘pre-pioneer’, designates Soviet children of seven years or over preparing for entry into the pioneer organization.

11 All-Union pioneer organization

a communist organization for teenagers between 10 and 15 years old (cf: boy-/ girlscouts in the US). The organization aimed at educating the young generation in accordance with the communist ideals, preparing pioneers to become members of the Komsomol and later the Communist Party. In the Soviet Union, all teenagers were pioneers.

12 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread of the ideas of communism and involve the worker and peasant youth in building the Soviet Union. The Komsomol also aimed at giving a communist upbringing by involving the worker youth in the political struggle, supplemented by theoretical education. The Komsomol was more popular than the Communist Party because with its aim of education people could accept uninitiated young proletarians, whereas party members had to have at least a minimal political qualification.

13 Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’

The campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’, i.e. Jews, was initiated in articles in the central organs of the Communist Party in 1949. The campaign was directed primarily at the Jewish intelligentsia and it was the first public attack on Soviet Jews as Jews. ‘Cosmopolitans’ writers were accused of hating the Russian people, of supporting Zionism, etc. Many Yiddish writers as well as the leaders of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee were arrested in November 1948 on charges that they maintained ties with Zionism and with American ‘imperialism’. They were executed secretly in 1952. The anti-Semitic Doctors’ Plot was launched in January 1953. A wave of anti-Semitism spread through the USSR. Jews were removed from their positions, and rumors of an imminent mass deportation of Jews to the eastern part of the USSR began to spread. Stalin’s death in March 1953 put an end to the campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’.

14 Residence permit

The Soviet authorities restricted freedom of travel within the USSR through the residence permit and kept everybody’s whereabouts under control. Every individual in the USSR needed residential registration; this was a stamp in the passport giving the permanent address of the individual. It was impossible to find a job, or even to travel within the country, without such a stamp. In order to register at somebody else’s apartment one had to be a close relative and if each resident of the apartment had at least 8 square meters to themselves.

15 Molotov, V

P. (1890-1986): Statesman and member of the Communist Party leadership. From 1939, Minister of Foreign Affairs. On June 22, 1941 he announced the German attack on the USSR on the radio. He and Eden also worked out the percentages agreement after the war, about Soviet and western spheres of influence in the new Europe.

16 Kolkhoz

In the Soviet Union the policy of gradual and voluntary collectivization of agriculture was adopted in 1927 to encourage food production while freeing labor and capital for industrial development. In 1929, with only 4% of farms in kolkhozes, Stalin ordered the confiscation of peasants' land, tools, and animals; the kolkhoz replaced the family farm.

17 Tolstoy, Lev Nikolayevich (1828-1910)

Russian novelist and moral philosopher, who holds an important place in his country’s cultural history as an ethical philosopher and religious reformer. Tolstoy, alongside Dostoyevsky, made the realistic novel a literary genre, ranking in importance with classical Greek tragedy and Elizabethan drama. He is best known for his novels, including War and Peace, Anna Karenina and The Death of Ivan Ilyich, but also wrote short stories and essays and plays. Tolstoy took part in the Crimean War and his stories based one the defense of Sevastopol, known as Sevastopol Sketches, made him famous and opened St. Petersburg’s literary circles to him. His main interest lay in working out his religious and philosophical ideas. He condemned capitalism and private property and was a fearless critic, which finally resulted in his excommunication from the Russian Orthodox Church in 1901. His views regarding the evil of private property gradually estranged him from his wife, Yasnaya Polyana, and children, except for his daughter Alexandra, and he finally left them in 1910. He died on his way to a monastery at the railway junction of Astapovo.

18 Order of the Great Patriotic War

1st Class: established 20th May 1942, awarded to officers and enlisted men of the armed forces and security troops and to partisans, irrespective of rank, for skillful command of their units in action. 2nd Class: established 20th May 1942, awarded to officers and enlisted men of the armed forces and security troops and to partisans, irrespective of rank, for lesser personal valor in action.

19 Medal for Military Merits

awarded after 17th October 1938 to soldiers of the Soviet army, navy and frontier guard for their ‘bravery in battles with the enemies of the Soviet Union’ and ‘defense of the immunity of the state borders’ and ‘struggle with diversionists, spies and other enemies of the people’.

20 Mandatory job assignment in the USSR

Graduates of higher educational institutions had to complete a mandatory 2-year job assignment issued by the institution from which they graduated. After finishing this assignment young people were allowed to get employment at their discretion in any town or organization.

21 Communal apartment

The Soviet power wanted to improve housing conditions by requisitioning ‘excess’ living space of wealthy families after the Revolution of 1917. Apartments were shared by several families with each family occupying one room and sharing the kitchen, toilet and bathroom with other tenants. Because of the chronic shortage of dwelling space in towns communal or shared apartments continued to exist for decades. Despite state programs for the construction of more houses and the liquidation of communal apartments, which began in the 1960s, shared apartments still exist today.

22 Item 5

This was the nationality factor, which was included on all job application forms, Jews, who were considered a separate nationality in the Soviet Union, were not favored in this respect from the end of World War WII until the late 1980s.
23 Six-Day-War: The first strikes of the Six-Day-War happened on 5th June 1967 by the Israeli Air Force. The entire war only lasted 132 hours and 30 minutes. The fighting on the Egyptian side only lasted four days, while fighting on the Jordanian side lasted three. Despite the short length of the war, this was one of the most dramatic and devastating wars ever fought between Israel and all of the Arab nations. This war resulted in a depression that lasted for many years after it ended. The Six-Day-War increased tension between the Arab nations and the Western World because of the change in mentalities and political orientations of the Arab nations.
24 Hesed: Meaning care and mercy in Hebrew, Hesed stands for the charity organization founded by Amos Avgar in the early 20th century. Supported by Claims Conference and Joint Hesed helps for Jews in need to have a decent life despite hard economic conditions and encourages development of their self-identity. Hesed provides a number of services aimed at supporting the needs of all, and particularly elderly members of the society. The major social services include: work in the center facilities (information, advertisement of the center activities, foreign ties and free lease of medical equipment); services at homes (care and help at home, food products delivery, delivery of hot meals, minor repairs); work in the community (clubs, meals together, day-time polyclinic, medical and legal consultations); service for volunteers (training programs). The Hesed centers have inspired a real revolution in the Jewish life in the FSU countries. People have seen and sensed the rebirth of the Jewish traditions of humanism. Currently over eighty Hesed centers exist in the FSU countries. Their activities cover the Jewish population of over eight hundred settlements.

25 Doctors’ Plot

The Doctors’ Plot was an alleged conspiracy of a group of Moscow doctors to murder leading government and party officials. In January 1953, the Soviet press reported that nine doctors, six of whom were Jewish, had been arrested and confessed their guilt. As Stalin died in March 1953, the trial never took place. The official paper of the Party, the Pravda, later announced that the charges against the doctors were false and their confessions obtained by torture. This case was one of the worst anti-Semitic incidents during Stalin’s reign. In his secret speech at the Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 Khrushchev stated that Stalin wanted to use the Plot to purge the top Soviet leadership.

26 1956

It designates the Revolution, which started on 23rd October 1956 against Soviet rule and the communists in Hungary. It was started by student and worker demonstrations in Budapest started in which Stalin’s gigantic statue was destroyed. Moderate communist leader Imre Nagy was appointed as prime minister and he promised reform and democratization. The Soviet Union withdrew its troops which had been stationing in Hungary since the end of World War II, but they returned after Nagy’s announcement that Hungary would pull out of the Warsaw Pact to pursue a policy of neutrality. The Soviet army put an end to the rising on 4th November and mass repression and arrests started. About 200,000 Hungarians fled from the country. Nagy, and a number of his supporters were executed. Until 1989, the fall of the communist regime, the Revolution of 1956 was officially considered a counter-revolution.

27 Prague Spring

The term Prague Spring designates the liberalization period in communist-ruled Czechoslovakia between 1967-1969. In 1967 Alexander Dubcek became the head of the Czech Communist Party and promoted ideas of ‘socialism with a human face’, i.e. with more personal freedom and freedom of the press, and the rehabilitation of victims of Stalinism. In August 1968 Soviet troops, along with contingents from Poland, East Germany, Hungary and Bulgaria, occupied Prague and put an end to the reforms.

28 Yom Kippur War

The Arab-Israeli War of 1973, also known as the Yom Kippur War or the Ramadan War, was a war between Israel on one side and Egypt and Syria on the other side. It was the fourth major military confrontation between Israel and the Arab states. The war lasted for three weeks: it started on 6th October 1973 and ended on 22nd October on the Syrian front and on 26th October on the Egyptian front.

29 Radio Liberty

Radio Liberty, which started broadcasting in 1953, has served as a surrogate 'home service' to the lands of the former Soviet Union, providing news and information that was otherwise unavailable to most Soviet and post-Soviet citizens. During that time, the station weathered strong opposition from the Soviet Union and its allies, including constant jamming, public criticism, diplomatic protests, and even physical attacks on Radio Liberty buildings and personnel. In 1976, Radio Liberty was merged with Radio Free Europe (RFE) to form a single organization, RFE/RL, Inc.

30 Gorbachev, Mikhail (1931- )

Soviet political leader. Gorbachev joined the Communist Party in 1952 and gradually moved up in the party hierarchy. In 1970 he was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, where he remained until 1990. In 1980 he joined the politburo, and in 1985 he was appointed general secretary of the party. In 1986 he embarked on a comprehensive program of political, economic, and social liberalization under the slogans of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). The government released political prisoners, allowed increased emigration, attacked corruption, and encouraged the critical reexamination of Soviet history. The Congress of People’s Deputies, founded in 1989, voted to end the Communist Party’s control over the government and elected Gorbachev executive president. Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party and granted the Baltic states independence. Following the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991, he resigned as president. Since 1992, Gorbachev has headed international organizations.

Berta Mazo

Berta Mazo
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Marina Denissyeva
Date of interview: January 2006

Berta Evseevna Mazo is an amazing person. Recently she celebrated her 90th birthday, but she retained the use of her faculties. She is still very emotional and mentally agile. Berta lives with the family of her elder daughter in a small cozy apartment in the center of St. Petersburg. As she is in poor health, she never leaves home alone. Nevertheless Berta loves theater and does her best to get there as often as it is possible. During conversation it seems that Berta revisits everything she tells about. And her memoirs are filled with emotions.

My family background

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family background

I was born in 1916 in Krucha shtetl of Vitebsk region [now Belarus]. My parents were Yevsey Yakovlevich Mazo and Maria Efremovna Merport. In fact I know nothing about my ancestors. I never saw my great-grandparents, and nobody told me anything about them.    

My paternal grandfather’s name was Yakov Samuilovich Mazo. I do not know where he was born. He died in 1930s in Leningrad. And my paternal grandmother’s name was Lubov Mazo. I do not remember her patronymic, I also have no information about the place of her birth, but to my opinion, she came from Poland. She died earlier than grandfather: in 1928 in Malaya Vishera [a small town near St. Petersburg]. Our family moved there from Krucha when I was under 3 years old. There my grandmother and grandfather had got a house. They used to follow the plough and earned their leaving by agriculture (I think so, because in fact they had got no profession). I remember that they had got a large garden. In that garden there were different trees, including apple-trees. They kept a cow. My paternal grandfather was a handsome man with a long beard. He knew Jewish history, Yiddish and Hebrew very well, therefore people in the synagogue held him in high respect. He used to read much; he had got a lot of Jewish books, including different prayer books. I still keep some of them at home. Children used to come to our place to study Hebrew, including me and 4 my cousins. It was not a school, he taught children for his delectation (nothing else). We studied Hebrew (it was linear learning), and I remember some words till now.

My paternal grandparents were very religious. They spoke both Yiddish and Russian with each other. My grandmother was a housewife; she was a real cordon bleu. At their house there was a Russian stove 1, and she baked there wonderful rolls (I liked them very much!). There was no need in assistants, because grandparents had got 3 daughters, and all of them helped about the house. As far as I remember, there was no electricity or running water. They observed all Jewish traditions, including kashrut. They attended synagogue and celebrated Jewish holidays. Grandparents wore everyday clothes (grandmother usually put on a skirt and a jacket, and she did not wear a wig). They never discussed political problems, and were members of no organizations. In Malaya Vishera there was a large Jewish community: Jews of different professions lived in different city districts. Of course my grandparents communicated with other Jews. Among them I remember a dentist (he lived with his family in a two-storied house near the river) and a therapist. I do not remember their neighbors, because grandparents’ house stood apart from others and their next-door neighbors lived rather far from it.

Parents of my mother lived in Ukraine (in Kharkov). They moved there from Krucha of Vitebsk region. My maternal grandfather’s name was Afroim Merport. My maternal grandmother’s name was Fruma Merport. I do not know where they were born. They both died before the war burst out. They had got an apartment in Kharkov, but I can’t recall it very well, because I visited them in Kharkov rarely. When I became a student, I went to Zaporozhye for practical training, and on my way there I visited my maternal grandparents in Kharkov. I remember that grandfather worked: once he came to our place on business trip. I do not remember his profession exactly, but I know that he was engaged in something connected with timber-rafting. And my maternal grandmother did not work, she was a housewife.

Yes, my both grandmothers were housewives: they had got a lot of children and it was necessary for them to cook meals for everyone! My maternal grandparents were less religious, than parents of my father. They used to wear up-to-date clothes, but observed kashrut and celebrated all Jewish holidays. Their neighbors were very good people (not Jews, as far as I remember). Those neighbors had got a girl, whom we made friends with. Unfortunately I know little about my mother’s parents: she did not tell me much about them.

I was born in 1916 and was under 3 when we left Krucha, therefore I remember nothing about the place. But I remember that on our way through Minsk [the capital of Belarus] we went out from the train. We saw people in German uniform on the platform. Probably Mom explained me that they were German, because I remember well myself shouting ‘Nemtsy, nemtsy! (Germans, Germans!)’ Probably I pronounced those words assonant with German ‘Nimm, Nimm! (take, take!)’, because those soldiers laughed and ran after me. Mom told me that story. We arrived in Malaya Vishera and lived there till 1928. I lived with my parents separately from my paternal grandmother and grandfather.

My father’s name was Yevsey Yakovlevich Mazo, and my mother’s name was Maria Efremovna Merport. Daddy was born in 1883, and Mom in 1893 (she was 10 years younger). They both came from Krucha shtetl. They got acquainted in Krucha and then got married. I remember I read one of old letters that ‘…Yevsey is going to marry Maria…’ Most probably they had their wedding ceremony as was customary (no chuppah).

My Mom was a very beautiful woman and a good housewife. Among her traditional dishes there were tsimes 2, stewed carrots, and cholnt [meat with potatoes]. And she baked tasty pies. Later I started baking traditional karavay (round loaf) [traditional kind of pastry] myself, all my family members liked it very much. They used to ask me about it, and at present my daughters do it themselves. Here is the recipe: pour sunflower-seed oil into a deep frying pan and put the prepared small pies in it, side by side. The small pies cake together and make one big pie consisting of small pies. Later it is good to eat it dividing small pies from the big one.

In Malaya Vishera we lived not richly, but we had got a cow - our real mother. We called her Burenka. Parents stored up fodder for her, let her out to fields, met her back, and milked. I was brought up milk-fed. In my childhood I was a plump child with rosy cheeks, and my aunt, Liya Yakovlevna called me a bun. We lived in one big room. Grandfather had got a small shop (he sold different small items there), but the shop had different entrance. We also had got a kitchen, but no bath-room (we used to wash in the river). There was a hayloft, where we kept hay for our cow. Our furniture was ordinary. There was no water supply and we heated the house by means of stove. Certainly, we had got no assistants: everything was made by ourselves. My parents had neither an orchard, nor a vegetable garden.

At home we had got a lot of different books, including fiction, science, and religion. My Mom was an educated person (but I do not know in what sphere). She worked in a library, therefore our family members read much: she made us free of her library. I read much, especially fiction. Till now I remember by heart several fragments from Eugeny Onegin [the best known poem by Alexander Pushkin 3]. My parents also read newspapers regularly, but I do not remember which ones. For the most part my parents spoke Russian, but they knew Yiddish and spoke it to each other when it was necessary to keep something from me. Nevertheless they celebrated all Jewish holidays, including Sabbath. Kashrut was not strictly observed, Daddy visited synagogue not often (the same with Mom). Parents were not active members of the Jewish community, they were ordinary persons of narrow interests.

Parents never discussed political problems at home, but I remember that they held Lenin 4 in great respect. And when he died, it was very terrible: steam locomotives hooted; people showed fussiness. In Malaya Vishera there was a club, parents liked to go there to watch concerts. About military service of my father I know only that he served as a musician somewhere in the south (in Tashkent [the capital of Uzbekistan] region): he played the trumpet. Sometimes parents left Malaya Vishera to visit Leningrad, later they started taking me with them.

At that time my cousin Alexander already lived in Leningrad. He was a lawyer and lived in Belinsky Street. We often visited him; I often stayed at his place. My cousins were very nice to me, I was their only sister. They were very cheerful and loved music (especially Lasar, my elder brother). They took me to theatres, for instance to the Theater for Young Spectators and Maryinsky Opera and Ballet Theater. My cousins Lasar, Solomon, Alexander and Grigory were sons of my aunt Bella Yakovlevna and her husband Efim Shlionsky. Parents kept in touch with all my aunts: Liya Yalovlevna also lived in Belinsky Street (she was a doctor), and Anna Yakovlevna lived in Sestroretsk [a suburb of Leningrad], she worked in a drugstore as the pharmacist. For some period of time she lived with us at our place. All of them were my father’s sisters. They all finished some technical school in Vitebsk [a town in Belarus]. We often met together on different occasions, went for a walk together. Anna Yakovlevna and Liya Yakovlevna did not get married.

Daddy also had got 2 younger brothers Moissey Yakovlevich and Israel Yakovlevich. Moissey worked with peltry-ware. He had got no children. Israel lived with his family in a small town near Vitebsk and worked in a drugstore. He had got a son Semen.

My mother had got 3 sisters (Rachel Efremovna, Liya Efremovna, and Mera Efremovna) and a brother Moissey Efremovich. Rachel was my favorite aunt, we were knit together by common interests. She was killed by Germans in 1941. Liya lived in Sverdlovsk, she had got no children. Mera and her husband Alexander Nezhevenko lived in Novosibirsk, he worked there at some institution as a manager of a household. They had got a son Oleg. Moissey died before the war of stomach cancer. He had got a daughter Bella (her husband’s name was Vladimir Karetnikov). Their daughter Elena Vladimirovna lives now in St. Petersburg, and their son Yury Vladimirovich, a doctor lives in the Far East.

In Malaya Vishera I did not attend kindergarten. Later I became a pupil of an ordinary school (there were no Jewish schools). I played with my schoolmates, read much, but when my younger sister appeared, I was engaged in taking care of her. I remember that together with my classmate we went to buy ice-cream, and there on cornets we found different names written down (it was funny!). In Malaya Vishera authorities often arranged cheerful fairs with different contests and Petrushka [a national comic personage] shows. In the summer we used to swim and bask in the sun. I remember how I learned to swim: Daddy bought 2 wind-balls and tied them together. I went to swim. I swam, and swam, and swam - and suddenly noticed that my balls floated away, but I was still swimming! That was the way I learned to swim.

For the most part it was my Mom who took care of me. At school literature was my favorite subject. We studied German language. Our school principal Bashmachnikov was very good. He was a very interesting person. He held studies of theatrical circle, I attended it and we often appeared on stage. I also took part in performances: I recited poems. Some of them I remember till now, for example, a fable by Demyan Bedny [a Soviet poet] Christ Has Arisen! The fable told about a cunning priest:

A cunning priest Ipat was afraid to loose his money. One night he put his money into a trunk and hid it behind the altar. He wrote on it ‘This trunk contains Christ’s body’. But an artful sexton took away the priest’s money and added to the inscription the following: ‘There is no Christ’s body here, because Christ has arisen!’  A diddler deceived another diddler!

There also was a circle for amateur photographers. In our class there were Jewish pupils, but the atmosphere was always very friendly. I keep no negative memories. I was engaged only in studies at school and circles and helped Mom about the house. I can’t recall very well my school friends from Malaya Vishera, except Lyalya and another girl with whom we went to a New Year party. After school I used to spend time with my cousins.

Later we moved to the house on the opposite side of the street. Family of the well-known bass singer Efrem Flaks lived there. My Mom was a friend of his sister Maria Borissovna, and I was a friend of his little son Boris. They were Jews, but not very religious.

In 1927 my sister Serafima Mazo was born. When we moved to Leningrad, I was a pupil of the 5th form. It happened in 1928. Grandmother and grandfather remained in Malaya Vishera, and after grandmother's death in 1929 grandfather moved to our place. He died before the war and was buried at the Preobrazhensky cemetery. We lived in Leningrad in a large two-room apartment until we left for evacuation (in 1941). In one room we lived four together with our parents and my sister, and the other room was occupied by my aunt Anna Yakovlevna (you remember that she was not married).

Growing up

In Leningrad I studied at a very good school near the October concert hall. The school was rather interesting. Our teacher of physical culture was Ivan Edmundovich Kokh. He also taught fencing at the College of Physical Culture named after Lesgaft, fencing was his profession. He was a remarkable teacher. I also remember our teacher of literature, she always created a friendly atmosphere in the class. At school I had a friend (we are still friends) Raisa Lukoshkova, nee Bleksmit. In our class there were several Jews. I remember Sonya Kamenkovich: she often invited us to her place, she played piano, and we sang. By the way, our singing-master was also very good. Later she married Alexey Antonov, a chief engineer at the Space Equipment Corporation. Now they live in Moscow and we keep in touch.

Besides my school studies, I was engaged in music lessons: a teacher came to our place. Later my sister started studying piano with Klara Efimovna Stolyar. My sister was talented and quickly left me behind, though she was younger than me. So I gave it up. My friends and I spent free time skating in the Tavrichesky garden [a big garden in the center of St. Petersburg] or preparing for school parties: we usually put different performances on the stage (once I recited Christ Has Arisen there!). Together with my parents we used to go to Sestroretsk for summer vacation (later I started coming there with children). Once when I was a pupil of the 7th form, I was in a pioneer camp 5. It was situated near Luga [a suburb of St. Petersburg]. There was a large lake and a small part of it was enclosed for little children. As for us, we used to get out of it and swim to the opposite bank of the lake (it was great!). Our PT teacher swam together with us. On the opposite side of the lake there was a tower, all children used it to jump down into the water. I was very much afraid of diving and never did it, though children tried to persuade me. A friend of mine was very good in diving. At that camp I was some sort of a pioneer leader. 

Living in Leningrad, we continued celebrating all Jewish holidays. For Pesach we always bought matzot and did not eat bread (by the way at present we also try to observe this tradition). I always visited synagogue on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. My favorite holiday was Simchat Torah. It is the last day of Torah readings: Jews carry Torah scrolls and dance everywhere, even in the streets. I consider it to be the most cheerful holiday. Inna, a daughter of my cousin finished a choreographic school and used to dance at Simhat Torah. At present she works at LENFILM [a film studio in St. Petersburg]. And her elder sister Natalia works at the Conservatory. They are children of Lasar Efimovich, who was a lawyer. He was a very interesting and clever person. His wife’s name was Marina Stepanovna Kuindzhi. And Solomon Efimovich was a pharmacist. Some time they lived in Sestroretsk and worked there. Alexander Efimovich (whom I loved very much!) graduated from the Polytechnical College, mechanical faculty. And Grigory Efimovich was lost during the war.

I finished my school and entered the Polytechnical College, faculty of industrial transport. At the College we often arranged dances, and I liked to dance very much. I also remember that when we were students of the 1st course, they taught us to march. Those studies were only for girls and other students called us Death Battalion (as a joke). In summer we used to go for practical studies. Once we (about 15 students) went to Magnitogorsk, there at a metal works we were engaged in time-keeping. We also went to Zaporozhye [in Ukraine], there we did the same, moving by steam locomotives wigwag.

During the war

I got acquainted with my husband Mikhail Borukhzon at our College (he was 2 years older than me). He was born in 1914 in Ukraine (in Varnavitsi shtetl). Later his parents together with him moved to Vinnitsa [a town in Ukraine]. His father’s name was Akiva, and I do not remember his mother’s name. In Vinnitsa he finished a Jewish technical school, where he studied Yiddish. He knew Yiddish very well and considered it to be his mother tongue. We got married after graduation from the College, in 1939. I worked at the PROMTRANSPROEKT institution [a designing organization for transport industry]. In 1940 my Mom died. Our elder daughter Mara was born in 1941. In summer of 1941 we rented dacha near Tosno [a suburb of St. Petersburg]. At that time Daddy worked in Tosno, and my husband worked in Kolpino. War burst out when my elder daughter was about 5 months old. We left almost everything and managed to escape before Germans occupied Tosno. We went to evacuation with my sister (she was 13 at that time), my baby daughter and my Daddy.

We went from Tosno in a heated goods van. [A heated goods van was a freight car adapted for transportation of people.] There were two-tiered plank beds in the van. Emotional shock resulted in disappearance of my breast milk, therefore it was necessary to take it from special canteens on our way, warm it and give to my daughter. We arrived in Perm. Initially we had to go to Chelyabinsk with my factory coworkers, but we went to Perm, because our neighbor and her family had moved there earlier and wrote us that it was very good to live there. At first we could not find her there, but then I met her near the railway station by chance. She took us to her place for a while. Not to lose touch with my husband, we decided that he would write us to Perm (to be called for). And you probably know that Mariinsky theatre was also evacuated from Leningrad to Perm. By the way, many years later I got to Perm on business trip and found it to be changed much.

Soon after arrival I found a small room for rent and we moved there. It was situated very far from the center. Therefore it was necessary to walk long to reach the canteen and get milk for my daughter.

Our room turned to be very cold: the stove did not function and the window was broken. That winter there was terrible frost. My daughter was a baby and I had to wash her linen in cold water. The only plus was that the linen was frozen and my baby got it extremely clean. It was no good to live in that room, therefore I started searching for something else. It appeared to be not easy task: all places were occupied already. At last I found an apartment very close to the center and rather warm, but again it was told to be occupied. Then I went to the Communist Party Committee and explained that I had to take care of my sister and a little daughter and described awful conditions we lived under. Then they allowed us to move there. Owners of our new apartment had got little children, so my sister cheered up. There I managed to unswaddle my daughter for the first time, and she began to stir her arms and legs (before that she was swaddled all the time). Soon she started walking. So in the new apartment it was much better for us. On our way to Perm we got acquainted with Emma, a woman also going to Perm with her little daughter. Emma was a doctor. In Perm she began working and helped us very much: she wrote prescriptions for infant food. At the special canteen I received milk, porridge, kissels, etc. It was enough to feed both my daughter and my sister.

Later I became a school teacher. I taught drawing. At the school lunchroom I used to take meals (they had very good products: different sausages, second courses, etc.). I brought meals home and we ate it. At that school I worked till spring of 1942, but then we had to leave for Sverdlovsk. It happened because my husband was transferred from Izhorsky plant [a large diameter pipes plant] to Uralmash [a heavy machine production facility]. He visited us in Perm on his way to Sverdlovsk, but he could not take us with him at that moment. So we moved to Sverdlovsk when he settled in the new place. His apartment was very small, but later we received a new room in the attic. At that time all attics were equipped for habitation. Our room was about 16 square meters large and we lived there five together. We had a round stove for heating. The room next door was occupied by a woman with a daughter: very pleasant people, not Jews. We made friends with them. On a lower floor there was situated a military school. Every morning its cadets sang a song ‘My dear Belarus, my beloved Ukraine!’ My Mara learned it by heart and sang it, too.

In 1944 I gave birth to my 2nd daughter (we still lived in the attic). Lubov was a child full of play: all days long she stood holding on to the back of her bed and shaking it. Later (at last) we got a good apartment in a good house of Sverdlovsk (on the 3rd floor). There were 2 large rooms, balconies, central heating, and a bathroom. Things got better. There we had a neighbor who kept goats. Goats spent day time in the shed near our house, but every evening our neighbor dragged them into our bathroom, because she was afraid they could be stolen. One night one of her goats chewed up our linen put out to dry. We also got a small garden-plot, but we managed to grow nothing there, there were only mosquitoes. Later we received another one and cultivated potatoes, carrots, onions - a lot of vegetables.

After the war

Members of our family started their way back home (to Leningrad) in 1948. Serafima went first. She settled at my aunt Liya in Belinsky Street. She entered the Leningrad College of Foreign Languages, which was situated in Smolny [Smolny is a complex of buildings in St. Petersburg used as a residence of the city administration]. I remember that at that time we sent her potatoes from Sverdlovsk. Daddy was the next one to leave for Leningrad. He found out that our apartment was occupied by some people, but he managed to evict one room from its unlawful possessor. So we returned to Leningrad to that room. My husband remained in Sverdlovsk for some time, but at last they called him back to Leningrad.

During the war from our relatives there were killed my aunt Rachel, my cousins Grigory (he was lost at the front line) and Israel. When we arrived in Perm, we met there my cousin Bella Moisseevna with her daughter and son. My maternal grandparents died before the war burst out. Mera and her husband Alexander Nezhevenko left for Novosibirsk. Liya was in Sverdlovsk. Rachel and her husband Vladimir lived in Kharkov: her husband hid her from Germans, but someone gave her up, and Germans killed her. I know nothing about the fate of Vladimir.

So among my relatives only aunt Rachel was killed because of her nationality. Among my husband’s relatives we lost his parents and his sister (her name was Rachel, too). They lived in a small town Shpikov [in Ukraine]. In the beginning of the war they were ready to leave, but Germans got them off the train. It happened probably in 1942. We got to know about it only in Sverdlovsk: we received a letter. I read it and hid: I was afraid to show it to my husband. Later he found it by chance and cursed me out for my silence. Several years later we (together with my children) visited cemetery in Shpikov: there we found common graves and a monument. In Shpikov my husband’s cousin lived with her family and we often visited her in summer before the war burst out.

While we were in evacuation, a family from a destroyed house lived in our apartment in Leningrad. Almost no furniture remained in it. Later a husband of the woman died, and she remained alone in one of our rooms. Of course, it grieved me to see the changed city after our return: I saw a lot of destroyed houses. I know not much about the destiny of my college friends: some of them left, some of them remained in Leningrad. Victor Zhuk, for example, survived during the blockade of Leningrad, and his mother died.

We returned to Leningrad and at first I did not work, but later I started working and at last came to PROMTRANSPROEKT and worked there until my retirement on pension. My elder daughter became a schoolgirl. Daddy went on working (he died in 1952). And my sister studied at a college. Later she got married to a Jew. His name was Vladimir and by now he already died. Vsevolod was the only son of them. My sister taught English language at the Radio Polytechnical School.

We all lived in one room: not large, with 2 big beautiful windows. Our neighbors Elena Mironovna Chashnik and her parents lived in the same house, but later they moved to Petrogradskaya side [a district of St. Petersburg].

All our relatives from Ukraine left for America and live there now. We never visited them, but corresponded with each other. Distant relatives of my father live in Israel. Maria, a doctor works near Haifa [a city in Israel]. My cousin Alexander graduated from the Polytechnical College and was sent to Moscow. There he got married. I visited him several times.

I was in Israel only once (in 1996): when I accomplished 80 years, I was invited by my friend Serafima Epstein. Unfortunately she is not alive now; she was 10 years older than me. We were good friends. When she lived in Leningrad, I often visited her. She lived in a large apartment with her parents and a little son.

We always tried to bring our children up in the spirit of culture, to make them useful for our society. We often visited concerts at the philharmonic society, different museums and observed all holidays with great pleasure (including Jewish ones: we even made matzot ourselves).

After school my elder daughter Mara entered the College of Intercommunications named after Bonch-Bruevich. There she got acquainted with her future husband. Later they worked together at a plant. And my younger daughter Lubov entered the Radio Engineering Technical School №1. Later Lubov became a musician: she graduated from the Conservatory. Her husband Yakov Gull is a research worker in the sphere of biology. My daughters had got one son each. Mara’s son is a musician (a violinist), and Lubov’s son is a museum worker. My elder grandson had got 2 children (a son and a little daughter), and my younger grandson had got 1 son. So I have got 3 great-grandchildren.

After the end of the war we went on keeping in touch with our relatives. Political situation did not have great influence upon us. Everything was quiet and stable at our working places. We kept an eye on political events, but never discussed them at home. Neither me nor my husband (he was always held in great respect by his coworkers) ever came across any manifestations of anti-Semitism.

We continue keeping in touch with our relatives in America: recently they sent us very interesting photos by e-mail.

I am in touch with members of the Jewish community. While I was able, I often visited Hesed Avraham Welfare Center 6: studied Yiddish, attended interesting concerts, took part in different excursions.

Glossary:

1 Russian stove

Big stone stove stoked with wood. They were usually built in a corner of the kitchen and served to heat the house and cook food. It had a bench that made a comfortable bed for children and adults in wintertime.

2 Tsimes

Stew made usually of carrots, parsnips, or plums with potatoes.

3 Pushkin, Alexandr (1799-1837)

Russian poet and prose writer, among the foremost figures in Russian literature. Pushkin established the modern poetic language of Russia, using Russian history for the basis of many of his works. His masterpiece is Eugene Onegin, a novel in verse about mutually rejected love. The work also contains witty and perceptive descriptions of Russian society of the period. Pushkin died in a duel.

4 Lenin (1870-1924)

Pseudonym of Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, the Russian Communist leader. A profound student of Marxism, and a revolutionary in the 1890s. He became the leader of the Bolshevik faction of the Social Democratic Party, whom he led to power in the coup d’état of 25th October 1917. Lenin became head of the Soviet state and retained this post until his death.

5 All-Union pioneer organization

a communist organization for teenagers between 10 and 15 years old (cf: boy-/ girlscouts in the US). The organization aimed at educating the young generation in accordance with the communist ideals, preparing pioneers to become members of the Komsomol and later the Communist Party. In the Soviet Union, all teenagers were pioneers.

6 Hesed

Meaning care and mercy in Hebrew, Hesed stands for the charity organization founded by Amos Avgar in the early 20th century. Supported by Claims Conference and Joint Hesed helps for Jews in need to have a decent life despite hard economic conditions and encourages development of their self-identity. Hesed provides a number of services aimed at supporting the needs of all, and particularly elderly members of the society. The major social services include: work in the center facilities (information, advertisement of the center activities, foreign ties and free lease of medical equipment); services at homes (care and help at home, food products delivery, delivery of hot meals, minor repairs); work in the community (clubs, meals together, day-time polyclinic, medical and legal consultations); service for volunteers (training programs). The Hesed centers have inspired a real revolution in the Jewish life in the FSU countries. People have seen and sensed the rebirth of the Jewish traditions of humanism. Currently over eighty Hesed centers exist in the FSU countries. Their activities cover the Jewish population of over eight hundred settlements.

Milka Ilieva

Milka Samuel Ilieva
Ruse 
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Patricia Nikolova 
Date of interview: September 2004

Milka Samuel Ilieva is a cordial, sociable and calm person. Her restless spirit, however, was a witness to stormy and contradictory political and life turning events. Her sense of humor as well as her natural kindness have saved her many times from the despair that awaited her at every single step. So many nuances of the Jewish character and Jewish spirit are reflected in her life story, that it looks more like a screenplay than real life. That’s why her words are wise, precise and sincere. Her jokes keep hidden a lot of unarticulated grief and hidden bitterness. 

I’m a descendant of a Jewish family from the Sephardi 1 branch that came from Spain more than five centuries ago. As is well known, most of the Jews expelled by the Spanish Queen Isabella in the 15th century settled on the Balkan Peninsula 2. My ancestors had a similar fate. Unfortunately, I know almost nothing about my grandparents, because they died before I was born. And what’s more, I made the mistake of not asking my parents for details about them. However, I know that my parents, Ventura Samuel Mashiakh and Samuel Moshe Mashiakh, were born in Nis, Macedonia [Editor’s note: Nis is in today’s Serbia and Montenegro.]. They met in Nis and then the two families, Shamli and Mashiakh, decided to move together to Sofia. So it was in the Bulgarian capital that my parents got married, in 1910.

We were a merry big family of ten members. Eight of us were only the kids: five sisters and three brothers. Mois was the first, born in 1911, followed by Ester in 1913, then Albert in 1915, Nissim in 1917, Sara in 1920, Venezia in 1922, Jina in 1925 and lastly I was born in 1928. We lived poorly, I would say, but our life was very spiritual and amusing despite this. What’s for sure is that we never lacked a sense of humor.

My father was very religious, but we, the kids, didn’t manage to preserve this religious spirit. Our life made us atheists. Maybe this was because we lived in poverty and everyone in the family had to start working at a very early age. Our life was hard; we saw all the injustice around us and that provoked a strong social sense in us rather than a religious one. But at least when we were young we observed all the Jewish holidays with my father. He used to tell us a lot about them. We strictly observed the kashrut at home on Pesach, and on the eve of this great holiday, all of us used to help my mother with the big cleaning up. [Editor’s note: She probably means that they had a traditional kosher meal for Pesach and maybe other holidays too but didn’t observe the ritual rules for the rest of the year.] Nobody was allowed to bring bread home during Pesach. As a matter of fact, there were no religious books in Ivrit [Hebrew] at home. I have also no information on whether my father was a member of a Zionist organization, although he must have been a convinced Zionist. What’s more important, the Jewish rituals observed on high Jewish holidays made our family really united.

I’ll never forget how we used to celebrate Purim. There was a very nice song for Purim of whose origin I know nothing. The specific point about it was that every new stanza began with a letter in accordance with the order of the Hebrew alphabet. My sister Sara sang it marvelously. On Purim my father would always tell her, ‘Sarika, please, kerida… [‘dear’ in Ladino] and she would start singing. The feeling was remarkable. I remember visiting Sara in her kibbutz during my last journey to Israel in 1990. I cannot recall the name of her kibbutz. Her job was to patch up clothes on a machine and the people loved her. So we, the three sisters, went to see her. I remember she lived in a small neat room; she also had a toilet and office in her room. Well, I went to her and asked her, ‘Sister, please, sing the first stanza of our favorite Purim song.’ She was 80 then. When she started singing something happened to me. I rushed out of the room in tears; I just couldn’t stop crying. I remember we were a very warm, united, extraordinary family.

After my mother gave birth to me, she got paralyzed from rheumatism. She sat on a chair and was no longer able to stand up. Then they decided to ‘sell me’ to some rich relatives of my mother, her cousins. In those days it was routine for the poor and fertile Jewish families to give one of their children, usually the youngest one, to a relative childless family. In exchange, the well-off family offered financial support to the poor one. As far as I know they were trading with clothes. Since my mother was paralyzed, a woman had to come to wash and swaddle me. My brother Nisso [Nissim] helped her do that. He was eleven years old then. Once he came back from school and saw a car in front of the house. Let me mention that it was 1928. Automobiles weren’t a usual thing to see even in the capital. Right at this moment, they were preparing the baby’s napkins at home to give me to these people.

My brother entered and shouted, ‘Mother! What’s that car doing here?’ Are you going to separate us? Don’t give Milka away! I’ll fill my pockets with pebbles and I’ll break this car’s windows, mind you…’ And he started filling his pockets with pebbles. And it was exactly what my mother had waited for, ‘We will not give her, go away, that’s it!’ That’s how she abandoned her decision.

Another curious fact is that all the children from my family studied in Bulgarian schools. It was only me who studied in the Jewish school, because my parents had decided firmly to send me to Israel, where my father’s sister planned to adopt me. It was a normal thing in the Jewish families then; if some of the relatives are childless, the next of kin, who have many children, give one of theirs to them so that the childless family may bring it up as their own. I was the youngest and because of that, they decided to give me to my father’s sister. This never happened, though.

My maternal grandparents were Avram Shamli, and I don’t know my grandmother’s name. I know really nothing about them. Most probably, they were poor. My paternal grandparents, however, Moshe and Venezia Mashiakh were well off. I know that they set up a sugar processing plant when they emigrated to what was then Palestine in 1930. They produced chocolate sweets there. That’s all I know about them.

My mother was something like a martyr for me. She took great care of us, but we were eight children in the family. Although she was illiterate she always knew how to be kind to us, how to bring us up, what to feed us, so that we would be healthy. She was strict about cleanliness despite the poverty in which we lived. It was easy for an infection to spread, as we were many people in the family. She would take us to public baths at least two times every week, either to the one on Slivnitsa Boulevard in our district, or to the central public baths near the city’s central market hall. Wednesdays and Fridays, just before Sabbath, were the bath days. We had to wash our hands, legs, necks and faces every time we entered the house. My sister Sarika [Sara] often bathed us in a washtub in the yard on Wednesdays. My mother had her do this and she took it as a very important obligation. She used to rub us to death, as if we were as filthy as pigs. That raised bursts of laughter. 

I remember market days in Sofia very well. On the eve of Sabbath, on Fridays, I would always accompany my mother when she set off to the market. I’m speaking of Georgi Kirkov 3 market that’s still functioning in the [then] Sofia residential district Iuchbunar 4. [Today this market is called ‘zhenskia Pazar,’ meaning ‘woman’s market.’ It is the central open market of Sofia.] For me it was the greatest pleasure in the world. My mother liked shopping for long hours; she also loved bargaining with the sellers. Then I helped her bring the products home. All the sellers were my favorite. The mere abundance of vegetables, oranges, tangerines, and everything made me feel happy. 

As I’ve already mentioned I can’t recall anything about my father’s parents. I only know that when they moved from Nis to Sofia they built a huge house for my parents. So, the whole family – the eight kids, my parents, and my father’s parents, lived together in this house. Our house was situated in the poor Jewish district Iuchbunar near Bet Am 5 and the [Great] Synagogue 6. We lived on Odrin Street, while the Jewish school was nearby, at the corner of Osogovo and Bregalnitsa Streets. The yard of our house was also big. We didn’t breed animals but we had a bungalow there that we let out. My eldest brother lived there for some time when he got married, just before the Law for the Protection of the Nation 7 was introduced. Our house was really big, according to the criteria of the time. If we look at it now, it’s just a normal two-storey building.

There were three rooms on the ground floor, and a wooden staircase led to the upper floor where there were two rooms: a bigger and a smaller one. All the eight kids slept in the big one. The smaller one was for my parents. My parents slept in one bed, my brothers in two beds and we, the four sisters, had two mattresses, each of us had a special place one after the other according to our age. Directly on the floor. My place was at one of the ends of the mattresses, since I was born last. And because it was difficult for me to get sleep, I often crept into my parents’ room and I slept underneath their bed. Usually, everyone got up early in the morning, and began to look for me. Finally, they understood I liked sleeping underneath my parents’ bed. I must have been five or six years old then.

I remember that we used to read a lot at home. And we always sang when we went to bed, when we got up, when we felt bad, when we were happy – we always sang. We had arranged our own family choir; there were ten of us after all. We sang in two parts. The second part was of course for men, and we, the women sang the first part. I remember, for example, that my eldest brother was a tenor. My sister Sara was an incredible soprano and could have had a professional career in music, if she had had the opportunity. The others were altos. My parents also took part in our singing. So, without any exaggeration our choir sounded beautiful.

I remember that in our yard a big and picturesque willow grew. During summers, my family used to install a table below the tree and we had our meals there every day. And when we finished with the food, we cleared the table and started singing the most beautiful songs we knew. We sang in Ladino and in Bulgarian. We sang [Bulgarian] folk songs: ‘Kito, girl’ and the now so-called ‘old city songs’ which were in fact modern Bulgarian chansons, called ‘Bufoon’s song.’ We also sang traditional [Ladino] Jewish songs: ‘Adio kerida’ [Goodbye darling], ‘Ande stavne amor?’ [Where are you my love?], ‘Nigna sos de basha djente’ [Girl, you are of an inferior birth], ‘Ken me va tomar a mi?’ [Who is going to marry me?], etc. Of course, my mother knew many songs in Ladino. Mind you, my parents were from Nis, so they knew also many Macedonian songs. [Editors note: Nis is located in Serbia, not in Macedonia.] From Macedonian ones, my favourite was ‘Zapali se Shar Planina’ [The Shar Mountain Started Burning], especially when my mother sang it.

These days I have discovered a hidden, inherited talent in me. I need to hear a song only once to remember it. Every spring, when Pesach was nearing, my mother used to beat out all the carpets, brush and wash everything. She had the furniture taken out, leaving only a table and a chair in the house so that she may reach the ceiling more easily. And she herself painted it. From as young as I can remember, I used to stay around to help her. I carried a bucket of paint, dipped the brushes and then handed them to her. And she would sing all the time. I would remember all her songs. She used to sing as much in Ladino as in Macedonian dialect.

This talent of mine was, however, as much an advantage as it was a disadvantage. I remember Uncle Avram who liked playing tricks on the people around him. He earned his living by making flypapers. Uncle Avram knew that I remembered every song from the first hearing and once decided to play a trick on me. He called me to teach me, say, a very beautiful song. I was quite small and quite enthusiastic about all that. I was eight or nine years old then. He started singing a ribald song and I didn’t know what it was about, ‘Lies down Lola under the quilt, what to say I know not of.’ I came back home and still being at the door I started singing it, content that I had just learned it. My brother, who had never beaten me all my life, slapped me in the face immediately. I got scared and started crying, ‘What’s that for? Why are you beating me?’ And he said, ‘You shouldn’t sing everything you hear from Uncle Avram!’ And he was right. At the same time, my sister Vinka [Venezia] sang an old chanson, it was a popular tune of the time, ‘I live to lo-o-o-ve…’ - very popular it was. And so I started singing it at the top of my voice the following day, ‘I li-i-i-i-ve to lo-o-o-ove.’ It was ridiculous.

The songs I knew in Ivrit I’d learned in Hashomer Hatzair 8. We used to sing a lot there, too. There was a very nice song. It began with, ‘O, ani-i-i itayavti, itaya-avti-i-i…’ We were taught to sing polyphonic music so that it sounded really beautiful. We were divided into two groups. When the first group, consisting of boys, started singing alone the whole first stanza and in the moment when they began the second stanza with a slightly different melody, the second group joined, starting from the beginning and singing simultaneously with the first one. And it always turned out very nice. I remember us singing songs like: ‘Ine ma tov uma naim shevet achim gam yachad’ [literally from Ivrit: ‘how nice and cozy it is, brothers, staying together’], or: ‘Sham baerev…’ [From Ivrit: ‘There, in the evening…’], and so on. It was a wonderful time.  

It wasn’t by chance that I mentioned Hashomer Hatzair. When I was as young as seven, I was a member in this Jewish youth organization. I remember very clearly that as early as 1935 Hashomer Hatzair looked after the poor kids, among whom I was, too. We were all from the poor Jewish neighborhood of Iuchbunar. Our fathers were workmen. We studied at the Jewish school where we received free coats and shoes because of our poverty. We were supported economically there, while in Hashomer Hatzair the help was spiritual. And this was more important. They helped us grow up as personalities. This organization gave a meaning to my life. They not only recommended us what to read, I’m speaking of literature with very high artistic values, but also excellently entertained us with games stimulating the sense of unity in our community. Besides, the older boys and girls played the violin for us, so that we could get acquainted with music. For example, the well-known musician Klara Pinkas often played the violin for us.

We studied astronomy as well. And when we turned twelve we started studying Horel’s ‘Sex Question’ [It was then the most popular and highly respected reading for adolescents.] and let me say, not in separated groups of boys and girls, but all together. To put it in other words, they taught us to be friends, and to be united. It often happened that we gathered all our money, about a lev or two per child, and ‘ahot’ [sister in Hebrew] Karola, the girl who was looking after us, she had to make sure we observed the required discipline and she also taught us, distributed them: ‘This is for cinema, this for sweets, and this is for ‘Shkembe Chorba’ [tripe-soup, non-kosher].’ We all loved this Oriental meal.  

All my friends then were Jewish girls, whom I was with at the Jewish school and Hashomer Hatzair: Mati Yomtov, Sarika Shamli, Dora Benvenisti and others. Afterwards they left for Israel and since then we have met by chance, well advanced in years, and we have even made out who was who. But back in my childhood years, I was always with them. We had a favorite game called ‘semanei derekh’ [literally from Ivrit: ‘traffic signs’]. We walked in Borisova Garden, the big park in Sofia’s suburbs [today this park is in the city center] separated in groups. The first group had to start before the second one, they walked and from time to time they had to put some signs, for example arrows made out of twigs, to show the direction, or they made some kind of a funny obstacle. Or they improvised a swastika, again made of twigs that meant ‘danger.’ And the ‘danger’ turned out to be a puddle for instance. Or they drew a square and a number in it with chalk. If the number was ten for example the second group had to seek for something hidden at a distance of ten steps from the square. We sought, sought and finally found pink sweets wrapped in a paper.

We often went to the Byalata Voda area, which is on Vitosha [a mountain near Sofia]. We were scouts there. We were separated into two groups: boys and girls. And we arranged fantastic competitions. We ran with our legs in sacks. Liko [Eliu] Seliktar was irreplaceable as an organizer of these games. We were taught how to light a fire in open nature, how to cook and so on. My childhood was absolutely calm. Up to the moment when the Germans invaded Bulgaria and the Law for the Protection of the Nation and the Law for the Protection of the State were introduced.

My father was a brush-maker. He made special shoe brushes and brushes for clothes. In fact, he did the hard work of the brush-making handicraft. When I was a child, I often saw him drilling holes in a board with a drill, where the threads were to be fixed after that. And this board was very thin and delicate and a single false movement could have broken it. But he was a master. I know that the owner of the workshop for brushes on Nis Street, where my father worked, was called Persiodo [Precious]; he was а Jew, too, but I can’t remember his first name now. That’s why he paid my father a substantial amount. His daily wage was 100 levs. Every day at lunchtime, when I was back from school, I carried to my father the meal that my mother had prepared for him. I took home the empty dishes and he would give me his wage to take home to my mother and always gave me a lev. These simple things made every day a holiday for me.

Apart from being a great master, my father was also a very good man. He never slapped any of his children. And he sang beautifully. I adored him. Every day when he came back home I used to wait for him with a basin filled with hot water, because he worked standing all day long and his legs got swollen. I always expected him eagerly and when I saw him approaching with five loaves of rye bread in his hands I rushed and gladly grabbed the bread. After that we used to go to my parents’ room on the second floor. There my father dipped his legs into the hot water and I washed them for him. I was a young child then. This procedure was repeated every single day. I loved him very much, and he loved me, too.

I lost my father very early. He died on 31st December 1939. The reason for his death was that he had a lot of stress then. My sister Ester was to get married. She had match-makers who had found her a boy. In those days, however, it was a big problem for Jewish girls to get married. Every Jewish girl had to have a trousseau, a big trousseau, let me say. But a girl also had to have dowry. And we were poor. My father loved my sister so much that he bought her a ‘Singer’ sewing machine [a very popular one for its time; German sewing machine], he made her a big trousseau and gave her 30,000 levs in dowry, which was a huge amount of money then. And that brought him to ruins. He had taken a loan from ‘Geula’ bank and when the policies started to arrive, he got sick. They threatened to throw out our belongings into the street, take our house and so on. His anxiety created a tumor in his stomach. They told him it was non-malignant, but he had to undergo an operation. And he didn’t want to. So that’s how he passed away. When my father died and the policies continued coming, my sister exchanged her wedding ring at a pawnshop for some money to pay at least the first policy. From then on we lived in complete poverty, especially during the Law for the Protection of the Nation, but somehow we stoically coped with everything. 

I remember very well the Sofia Jews’ demonstration in protest to the government’s decision for interning us 9. It was on 24th May 1943 10. At that time I was already 15 years old, but I was not a member of the Union of Young Workers 11, in contrast to my sister Jina, who was. Well, on this day I was just walking down Klementina Square with my sister Jina when we met acquaintances from the Jewish community. They informed us that they were going to organize a manifestation addressed to King Boris III 12 and against his decision for our internment. After that, the whole Jewish community gathered in the synagogue. And our procession started from there to Klementina Square. We reached Father Paisii Street, near Bet Am. And suddenly mounted police appeared in front of us. A severe scrimmage followed while we, the kids, fled away in all directions. I remember that I started running from Father Paisii Street and I stopped as far as Osogovo Street, in the Jewish school. Then I hid with a friend of mine. The police started visiting the Jewish families, from house to house, and they arrested all the Jewish men. Not before long, they interned us. 

Our internment was painful. We were each given the right to carry with us only 30 kilograms of luggage. We left for the railway station in order to catch the train to Shumen, where we were to be interned. It was my mother, Vinka, Jina and me. The other two sisters, Ester and Sara, had already been married: in Stara Zagora and in Sofia respectively; while my brothers were sent to forced labor camps 13. When we arrived in Shumen, several hundreds of Jews, we among them, were accommodated at the local school’s gym-hall. And a commune cauldron of food was installed there.

In that confusing situation, we were sitting desperately, my mother, my sisters and I, in the gym-hall’s crowd, when Vinka, who was 20 then already, took the initiative and said, ‘Mum, we won’t live here.’ And we started asking for lodgings. So we came across some Turks who lived near the Tumbul mosque [the main mosque in Shumen, built in 1744, also the largest in the Balkans]. It was just opposite the local Jewish school. Well, these Turks told us they could accommodate us in one of their rooms upstairs. We were six of us in that room: my mother, we, the three sisters, and one of my mum’s cousins with her daughter. We immediately started looking for jobs. We had to dig, wash, clean and all that stuff. We quickly registered ourselves at the Jewish community in the town, where they prepared a list of people like us who wanted to work. So, through the Jewish community we were sent to a ranch of 200 hectares of land. It was situated in the village of Panayot-Volovo. The owner was Ivan Praznikov. Both my sister Jina and I worked there. We dug, harvested and did all kinds of agricultural work there. My elder sister became a seamstress.

After 9th September 1944 14 we finally came back to Sofia. Then I was already 17 years old. We lived in absolute poverty. We found our house overgrown with weeds and grass. The doors and windows were levered out. The furniture had been robbed. A gaping house. We looked at each other and started crying frantically. We were only the three of us. As we were crying, Vinka said, ‘There’s no use in crying. Let’s get things moving.’
We started tearing up the weeds. We cleaned the yard, but the problem was where we were going to sleep for the night. My mother had brothers in Dorbunar [literally from Turkish: ‘Four wells’. ‘Dort’ stands for four, while ‘bunar’ means well, but in every day life people usually don’t pronounce the ‘t’.], a residential district neighboring Iuchbunar. They had come back to Sofia from their internment before we did. And they told us, ‘Until you submit the documents to have the house restored and get help from the municipality, come and stay with us.’ We stayed for a while with our uncles. The house got restored quite quickly in fact; doors and windows were installed. We whitewashed the house, disinfected, cleaned everything and moved in. We gathered our entire luggage in a single corner, because we didn’t have any furniture, we didn’t even have beds. We slept on quilts on the floor.

Just before our internment, my first and second sister, Ester and Sara, who already had their own families, had been working hard. There was a special kind of home-employment for women then. My third and fourth sisters worked for a textile factory. I worked with them. I sewed buttons on shirts, a multitude of shirts every day, so that eventually I didn’t even look at the button’s holes; I knew them by heart. I could finish 60 shirts a day. My third sister got married in Ruse. Vinka’s husband Shlomo was in a forced labor camp during the internment, but he fled to Shumen, where he met my sister and they got married after 9th September 1944.

My brothers succeeded in getting married to the women they loved. In contrast to my sisters, let me say. My elder brother married Olga; his love from the school years. In the beginning, they lived with us. My second brother’s wife’s name is Ani; she lives in Israel. Her father was a grocer; they lived in the Jewish neighborhood, near our place, at the corner of Opalchenska Street and Stamboliiski Boulevard. My younger brother married the girl he loved, also from his childhood. They lived in a bungalow attached to our house in Iuchbunar in Sofia.

Shortly after 9th September 1944 I got married, too. It happened that I had an arranged marriage with an ex-political prisoner; his name was Sason Panizhel. He was a nephew of my sister’s mother-in-law. Once he went to visit his aunt and then he happened to see me there. They arranged a marriage for us and I accepted only because I wanted to get rid of that poverty. My co-existence with him lasted for three years [1945-1947] and it turned out to be real hell.

He took me to Ruse. Yet during the first week, I realized what I was in. But I was still an innocent child brought up with books. I idealized everything. I cried all the time; I just couldn’t stop. Soon my daughter Tinka was born in 1947, and because of her I managed to put up with this nightmare for three years. Our house in Ruse shared the same yard with Dragomir Assenov [a well-known Bulgarian writer of Jewish origin]. Besides, we lived with my husband’s mother, Estel Panizhel, who was close to my mother. His sister was a friend of my sister’s; in Sofia we lived near each other. I lived with him and was in incessant fear. He had acquired some habits in prison that I couldn’t stand. 

Sason’s mother was a martyr. And his father wasn’t a good man. I remember him as a very perverted person. And he had passed his perversion to his son. For him, a woman was just a tool for satisfying primary instincts. I was disgusted. Besides, he even reached out his hands to harm me. During that time his cousin, Luna Djain, and I became friends. She often told me, ‘How can you put up with him?’ and I answered, ‘What can I do? Where can I go?’ My parents and my sisters and brothers had all immigrated to Israel by then. And I had nobody in Sofia. Where could I go? Then Luna said to me, ‘You can come and stay with me.’ We lived close to her place then. And one evening when the situation became extremely unbearable, I decided to run away. Just as I was: in a nightgown.

Of course, the situation worsened. At first, he didn’t want to get divorced. He used to go to the kindergarten to pick up our kid. He used it as a lure to make me come back. I was terrified and I let my daughter stay at their place, but I tormented myself with this. I would go to him to ask for my kid, he would let me in, lock the door, beat me, and then chase me away bleeding. Of course, the kid witnessed these scenes and also got disgusted with her father. Luna asked me, ‘Leave him, leave him alone for three days and you’ll see, he can’t handle it with this kid. Why are you going there? Want to get beaten again?’ I was obstinate, though. And everything happened again and again. One day I decided to listen to Luna’s advice. I went there neither the first day, nor the second, and on the third day he came shouting, ‘Take this tag with you, it’s yours!’ That’s what I wanted to hear. And it was over. Afterwards I lived in an even worse condition with my daughter, in complete poverty. We had only my salary as a typist for a living, which was not high at all. At least, I always had some butter to spread on a slice of bread for her.

In 1952 I met my second husband, Georgi Iliev. The same year I found a job with the Regional Council. Georgi worked there, too. He was single and I was in the process of getting divorced. What I liked about him was that he was serious and modest. We got married in Ruse in 1953. Some very big troubles followed on the part of his relatives. The reason was that I was divorced and had a child. His relatives had the mentality of villagers and couldn’t put up with this. Even his father, who had been sent to Germany as a very qualified professional, he worked in the local locomotive plant, said after he came back, ‘It doesn’t matter if she’s divorced; she has a child. But she’s a Jew!’ However, I knew what a wise Jew should do. I stayed silent and waited. I thought this was their viewpoint. I couldn’t press my position on them.

Many years passed before we went to visit them. Until the day my husband’s uncle, who was studying law in France, came back to Bulgaria. He came to visit us. Our son was still a baby then. We sat at the table and started talking, and we talked for long hours, we talked sincerely to each other. He told me a lot of things about France. I don’t know what he said to his sister, my husband’s mother, but after two days she rang the doorbell. I invited her as if we had last met two hours ago. So, step by step they started to invite us to visit them. 

Years passed and my mother-in-law died. She didn’t suffer for long; she passed away within a day. It was 1963. The old man remained alone. My father-in-law sold his house and he had to come to stay with us until we had an apartment built. My father-in-law was born in one of the neighboring villages to Ruse, Chervena Voda, which was very riotous after 9th September 1944. In that village the local inhabitants started to make fun of him. They used to tell him, ‘Well, well, Ilia, what happened at the end? A Jewish daughter-in-law, and God knows what else, but a Jewish daughter-in-law is going to look after you, as it turns out.’ And he said, ‘I hadn’t known her. She’s decent. She’s not like us.’ That’s how he spread the fame of me in that village. I looked after this man for 20 years.

My daughter Tinka has two daughters: Rossitsa and Tanya who suddenly decided to leave for Israel after 10th November 1989 15. After my granddaughters immigrated to Israel, my daughter also went there. She has been there for ten years already and lives in Bat Yam. Her second daughter moved to Tel Aviv, while her elder daughter came back to Bulgaria. Rossitsa’s children are called Adam born in 2003 and Maya in 1997. Her husband’s name is Zoar, an Arab Jew, and an intelligent boy.

My son Iliycho [Ilia] Georgiev Iliev was born in 1953 and finished his secondary education at the Ruse music school. We knew he had the talent for music, but we didn’t expect that he would get addicted to music. This way he outlined his own fate. After that, he graduated from the Conservatory [in Sofia], specializing in violin. There he met his wife, Svetla Nikolaeva Toteva, who was also born in Ruse. She’s a cello player. Between 1980 and 1992 they were both members of the [Ruse] Opera orchestra. Then a Brazilian impresario came to the Ruse Opera; I don’t know how he persuaded them, but in 1992 twelve members of the orchestra decided to leave for Brazil to strengthen their orchestra there. Off they went and it’s now twelve years I haven’t seen them. That’s what I feel heavy at heart about. In fact, Iliycho went first and two years after him, his wife and two children, Milena and Nikolay, went to join him. They gave birth to a third child there: Victor. 

I have been to Israel seven times. The first time was in 1982 when I went alone. My second visit took place in 1986. From 1989 on, I have traveled to Israel once every three years. I’m impressed that it becomes more and more beautiful there. I like the people, too. My brother-in-law is a Sabra. [Literally cactus fruit in Hebrew, Sabra became the name for the native Jewish inhabitants of Israel. The self perception of Israelis is of the cactus fruit, that is rough and thorny outside and warm and sweet inside.] A wonderful person. Every morning he smiled at me, saying, ‘Miluka kerez kadiyko? Uno Kadiyko? [From Ladino: Milka, would you like a cup of coffee? A coffee?] And he prepared for me a special coffee from selected sorts. His name was Herzel Karmel. He was my sister Jina’s husband. I married before her, even though according to the tradition it was her turn to get married since she was elder than me. He was head of the municipality’s transport department. He was our cousin; his and our fathers were brothers. However, as we know, marriages between Jewish cousins are allowed. As a matter of fact, his surname was Mashiakh. But the people in Israel made fun of this so much that he decided to officially change his surname to Karmel. [‘Mashiach’ means ‘Messiah’ in Hebrew.]

I have experienced every possible misadventure: internment, ghetto, poverty, anti-Semitic regulations, disgraceful yellow star 16, curfew, and so on. So I celebrated 9th September 1944 as liberation. However, I can’t say I accepted 10th November 1989 as liberation, too. Before this date, there were a lot of things I liked. For example, there was more freedom to speak of your ethnical origin; at least, this is my opinion. Less antagonism. More economic safety and social stability. Before, there was a certain category of people, ‘active fighters’ against fascism. They received this date with hostility. Before that, they felt themselves as aristocrats, but this date dispelled their halo. I have never been an ‘active fighter.’ And I didn’t feel any hostility. I can’t say conditions of life changed for me, because I was already a pensioner when the democratic changes in Bulgaria took place. 

I retired in 1983. Until then I worked in the Human Resources Department at the Agriculture and Mechanical Engineering Institute in Ruse. I was at a very good self-dependant position and after that I started receiving a nice pension. I had another 15 years length of service before that. So my total length of service runs to 35 years, although I started working as young as a child during the Law for the Protection of the Nation.

The events that took place in Bulgaria after 10th November 1989 didn’t fascinate me. I’m for the tolerance. I never argue with friends in the organization [Milka is speaking of the local Jewish organization in Ruse called ‘Shalom’]: if one supports the Union of Democratic Forces or the Bulgarian Socialist Party, I’m simply not interested in that. Just the other way about. I try to respect other people’s opinions. My sister, who came back to Bulgaria for a while after 10th November 1989, listened to what people were commenting then and told me, ‘Milka, the people here are mad!’ Herzel and I vote with different bulletins. He’s for the conservatives and I’m for the liberals. But should we argue about that at home?’ I think this is the right way of thinking.

Glossary 

1 Sephardi Jewry

Jews of Spanish and Portuguese origin. Their ancestors settled down in North Africa, the Ottoman Empire, South America, Italy and the Netherlands after they had been driven out from the Iberian peninsula at the end of the 15th century. About 250,000 Jews left Spain and Portugal on this occasion. A distant group among Sephardi refugees were the Crypto-Jews (Marranos), who converted to Christianity under the pressure of the Inquisition but at the first occasion reassumed their Jewish identity. Sephardi preserved their community identity; they speak Ladino language in their communities up until today. The Jewish nation is formed by two main groups: the Ashkenazi and the Sephardi group which differ in habits, liturgy their relation toward Kabala, pronunciation as well in their philosophy.

2 Expulsion of the Jews from Spain

The Sephardi population of the Balkans originates from the Jews who were expelled from the Iberian peninsula, as a result of the ‘Reconquista’ in the late 15th century (Spain 1492, and Portugal 1495). The majority of the Sephardim subsequently settled in the territory of the Ottoman Empire, mainly in maritime cities (Salonika, Istanbul, Izmir, etc.) and also in the ones situated on significant overland trading routes to Central Europe (Bitola, Skopje, and Sarajevo) and to the Danube (Edirne, Plovdiv, Sofia, and Vidin).

3 Kirkov, Georgi Yordanov (1867-1919)

Bulgarian journalist, poet. One of the founders of the Bulgarian Socialist Party, which was established in 1903.

4 Iuchbunar

The poorest residential district in Sofia; the word is of Turkish origin and means ‘the three wells’.

5 Bet Am

The Jewish center in Sofia today, housing all Jewish organizations.

6 Great Synagogue

Located in the center of Sofia, it is the third largest synagogue in Europe after the ones in Budapest and Amsterdam; it can house more than 1,300 people. It was designed by Austrian architect Grunander in the Moor style. It was opened on 9th September 1909 in the presence of King Ferdinand and Queen Eleonora.

7 Law for the Protection of the Nation

A comprehensive anti-Jewish legislation in Bulgaria was introduced after the outbreak of World War II. The ‘Law for the Protection of the Nation’ was officially promulgated in January 1941. According to this law, Jews did not have the right to own shops and factories. Jews had to wear the distinctive yellow star; Jewish houses had to display a special sign identifying it as being Jewish; Jews were dismissed from all posts in schools and universities. The internment of Jews in certain designated towns was legalized and all Jews were expelled from Sofia in 1943. Jews were only allowed to go out into the streets for one or two hours a day. They were prohibited from using the main streets, from entering certain business establishments, and from attending places of entertainment. Their radios, automobiles, bicycles and other valuables were confiscated. From 1941 on Jewish males were sent to forced labor battalions and ordered to do extremely hard work in mountains, forests and road construction. In the Bulgarian-occupied Yugoslav (Macedonia) and Greek (Aegean Thrace) territories the Bulgarian army and administration introduced extreme measures. The Jews from these areas were deported to concentration camps, while the plans for the deportation of Jews from Bulgaria proper were halted by a protest movement launched by the vice-chairman of the Bulgarian Parliament.

8 Hashomer Hatzair in Bulgaria

‘The Young Watchman’; A Zionist-socialist pioneering movement established in Bulgaria in 1932, Hashomer Hatzair trained youth for kibbutz life and set up kibbutzim in Palestine. During World War II, members were sent to Nazi-occupied areas and became leaders in Jewish resistance groups. After the war, Hashomer Hatzair was active in ‘illegal’ immigration to Palestine.

9 Internment of Jews in Bulgaria

Although Jews living in Bulgaria where not deported to concentration camps abroad or to death camps, many were interned to different locations within Bulgaria. In accordance with the Law for the Protection of the Nation, the comprehensive anti-Jewish legislation initiated after the outbreak of WWII, males were sent to forced labor battalions in different locations of the country, and had to engage in hard work. There were plans to deport Bulgarian Jews to Nazi Death Camps, but these plans were not realized. Preparations had been made at certain points along the Danube, such as at Somovit and Lom. In fact, in 1943 the port at Lom was used to deport Jews from Aegean Thrace and from Macedonia, but in the end, the Jews from Bulgaria proper were spared.

10 24th May 1943

Protest by a group of members of parliament led by the deputy chairman of the National Assembly, Dimitar Peshev, as well as a large section of Bulgarian society. They protested against the deportation of the Jews, which culminated in a great demonstration on 24th May 1943. Thousands of people led by members of parliament, the Eastern Orthodox Church and political parties stood up against the deportation of Bulgarian Jews. Although there was no official law preventing deportation, Bulgarian Jews were saved, unlike those from Bulgarian occupied Aegean Thrace and Macedonia.

11 UYW

The Union of Young Workers (also called Revolutionary Youth Union). A communist youth organization, which was legally established in 1928 as a sub-organization of the Bulgarian Communist Youth Union (BCYU). After the coup d’etat in 1934, when parties in Bulgaria were banned, it went underground and became the strongest wing of the BCYU. Some 70% of the partisans in Bulgaria were members of it. In 1947 it was renamed Dimitrov’s Communist Youth Union, after Georgi Dimitrov, the leader of the Bulgarian Communist Party at the time.

12 King Boris III

The Third Bulgarian Kingdom was a constitutional monarchy with democratic constitution. Although pro-German, Bulgaria did not take part in World War II with its armed forces. King Boris III (who reigned from 1918-1943) joined the Axis to prevent an imminent German invasion in Bulgaria, but he refused to send Bulgarian troops to German aid on the Eastern front. He died suddenly after a meeting with Hitler and there have been speculations that he was actually poisoned by the Nazi dictator who wanted a more obedient Bulgaria. Most Bulgarian Jews saved from the Holocaust (over 50,000 people) regard King Boris III as their savior.

13 Forced labor camps in Bulgaria

Established under the Council of Ministers’ Act in 1941. All Jewish men between the ages of 18–50, eligible for military service, were called up. In these labor groups Jewish men were forced to work 7-8 months a year on different road constructions under very hard living and working conditions.

14 9th September 1944

The day of the communist takeover in Bulgaria. In September 1944 the Soviet Union unexpectedly declared war on Bulgaria. On 9th September 1944 the Fatherland Front, a broad left-wing coalition, deposed the government. Although the communists were in the minority in the Fatherland Front, they were the driving force in forming the coalition, and their position was strengthened by the presence of the Red Army in Bulgaria.

15 10th November 1989

After 35 years of rule, Communist Party leader Todor Zhivkov was replaced by the hitherto Prime Minister Peter Mladenov who changed the Bulgarian Communist Party’s name to Socialist Party. On 17th November 1989 Mladenov became head of state, as successor of Zhivkov. Massive opposition demonstrations in Sofia with hundreds of thousands of participants calling for democratic reforms followed from 18th November to December 1989. On 7th December the ‘Union of Democratic Forces’ (SDS) was formed consisting of different political organizations and groups.

16 Yellow star in Bulgaria

According to a governmental decree all Bulgarian Jews were forced to wear distinctive yellow stars after 24th September 1942. Contrary to the German-occupied countries the stars in Bulgaria were made of yellow plastic or textile and were also smaller. Volunteers in previous wars, the war-disabled, orphans and widows of victims of wars, and those awarded the military cross were given the privilege to wear the star in the form of a button. Jews who converted to Christianity and their families were totally exempt. The discriminatory measures and persecutions ended with the cancellation of the Law for the Protection of the Nation on 17th August 1944.
 

Josif Kamhi

 Josif Kamhi
Sofia
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Dimitar Bojilov
Date of interview: October 2004 


Josif Kamhi welcomes us in his newly-renovated home in the center of Sofia, inherited from his father and located very close to the Jewish Community Center. He has dedicated his life to technical sciences and has made significant contributions to the technical development of a number of industrial companies. His designs are widely sought and are considered the best even nowadays. He is retired now and spends his days doing housework and visiting the home of the Jewish Community in Sofia.

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

My family background

My family comes from Spain. My ancestors settled on the Balkans a number of centuries ago [cf. Expulsion of the Jews from Spain] 1. My paternal great-grandfather, Albert Kamhi, was born in Turkey. He lived there for some time and at the end of the 19th century came to Sofia. I suppose that happened before the liberation of Bulgaria 2, in 1878. My paternal grandfather, Perets Albert Kamhi, was born in Sofia.

My father’s house was on Pozitano Street in the center of Sofia. When I was a child, my grandparents, some of my father’s sisters and my father’s family lived there. I remember vaguely that my great-grandmother – my grandfather’s mother – also lived with us. One of my father’s sisters, Adela, was very kind to us and loved us very much. Unfortunately she was deaf-mute.

The house, where I was born had two floors, and each floor had two rooms and a small kitchen. There was also a big yard with some trees which we climbed all the time. My paternal grandparents lived on the upper floor and we on the ground floor. My mother took care of the housework and cooked on a stove using wood. We had a toilet inside the house. We had electricity and water. I lived there until I was eight years old. Then my father bought by installments the apartment in which I live now.

My paternal grandparents also moved to live in another place, in the Batlova Vodenitsa district. This district is very close to the Jewish neighborhood Iuchbunar 3. That place was not far from the center of the town and from our new apartment.

I remember that my grandfather loved gathering the grandchildren and offering us pieces of water-melon. There was a big yard and a well, where he placed the water-melons to cool. He also liked to drink 100 gram of rakia 4. My grandmother, Dora Kamhi, also indulged us and made us delicious cakes.

They dressed in fashionable city clothes – my grandmother wore long dresses and my grandfather put on coats. They were not religious and I never saw them going to the synagogue. One of the houses next to them was owned by Bulgarians and the other by Jews. They got on very well with all neighbors. There was a mezuzah placed high on the door of my grandfather’s house. There is a mezuzah now in our home, too.

My grandfather Perets Kamhi had a butcher’s, which he probably passed on to my father. It was on Klementina Blvd, present-day Stamboliiski Blvd and on Paisii Street. I do not remember if they sold kosher meat. My father was forced to move from that store, because he had only rented it. Another butcher took the store, probably by offering higher rent. He continued selling meat and working with the customers that my father had attracted.

My father opened another butcher’s but it was further away from the center and he did not have so many clients. So he went bankrupt. That happened around 1940. He started work in a factory processing leather. Before he went bankrupt, my father earned good money. When he moved the shop, our financial situation worsened. At that time we also had to pay a big sum every month as installment for our new apartment. We managed to pay all the installments by 9th September 1944 5.

My grandfather rarely came to visit us in our new apartment, but when he came they always sent me to buy 100 gram of rakia from the tavern in the neighborhood. Once my grandfather asked me to buy something else besides the rakia. But I forgot and came back only with the drink. Then he joked that someone should have bumped into me so that I would remember.

Mostly my brother and I did the shopping in our family. We preferred Zhenskia pazar [‘Women’s Market,’ the central market in Sofia] and the grocery store near our house.

My father had two brothers and three sisters. The eldest one was Matilda, who married in Sofia and no longer lived in our house when I was born. The others were Jacques Perets Kamhi, who died in the 1920s, Samuel Kamhi, who had a shop for shoemaker’s materials, and Sara and Adela, who I think were married to Jewish merchants.

We lived separately and did not visit each other very often. Mostly my father’s sisters visited us. All except for Jacques left for Israel during the Mass Aliyah 6 between 1948 and1950. My family kept in touch mostly with Adela, who was deaf-mute, Sara, and my mother’s sister Luisa.

My family often told us a story involving the husband of my father’s sister Sara. Once he hired a cart and porters and went to a textile store during the weekend. He broke open the shop, loaded the cart with textiles and drove away. He was caught and sentenced, but it seems that he spent little time in prison.

During the Holocaust they were interned to Ruse 7. After 9th September 1944 he committed some crime again, this time while at work in the police, and he was sacked. During the totalitarian regime they left for Israel and as far as I know they got divorced there.

My mother Berta Kamhi also worked but from home. She had a sewing machine and made handkerchiefs and singlets. We, the children, helped her. My brother Perets Albert Kamhi and I went to the central market and sold the so-called ‘ikonomia’ – very fine sand, which was used in dish washing. We offered it packed. We also sold toothpicks, paint and shoelaces. We sold them by going from house to house, and we got the goods from the merchants who owned shops.

My mother’s parents lived in the center of Sofia in a two-story house. It was owned by my mother’s brother, Nissim Koen, who was relatively rich, because he had a factory for leather processing. Their living standard was higher than ours. My mother’s brother lived on the first floor and his mother on the second floor. My mother and I often visited them.

My mother had three brothers and three sisters. The eldest was Bohor Koen, who was a merchant and had six children. Next were Nissim Koen, whom I already mentioned, Miriam, Liza, who had an ironware store with her husband David, Matilda and David, who left for Palestine in 1926. They all had families and children but I have met only David’s son Yoske, whom I met during my visit to Israel in 1985.

During the Jewish holidays we did not gather with other families. Everyone celebrated in their own house. When we lived with my father’s parents, we gathered on Pesach. In 1934 we moved into our present apartment, and my mother made the preparations for the Jewish holidays.

We observed the Jewish traditions to some degree. During Pesach it was obligatory to eat only matzah, but that meant that we should buy it. The matzah I bought was finished on the second day, and we had to buy more. But they asked me to buy bread and gave me a dark bag so that the neighbors would not see me buying bread.

We did not observe Sabbath because we were short of money and we had to work on Sabbath. They gave us a big packet of handkerchiefs which had to be ready in a number of days and we worked on them the whole day. My mother did the sewing and when she took a break, we worked instead of her. We took pieces of cloth which we folded at the ends and the handkerchief was ready. Before my mother married, she had bought a Singer sewing machine for 20 golden levs. She sewed for herself and for her family.

We did not make special meals for the holidays. But for Pesach we always had matzah and burmolikos, which was made from matzah and eggs and was then fried. It can also be covered with jam. Maybe because my father worked in a butcher’s, I did not like meat much. There were meatballs, cheese pastries and cakes. My paternal grandmother made a very nice sponge-cake. When my father had the shop, we always had good meat on the table, but when he went bankrupt, we did not eat meat much.

Before the holidays my brother and I often went to sell small goods on the streets and earned enough money to buy some stuff to eat. Once we bought smoked fish and surprised our parents in a pleasant way by arranging the table.

We could not afford to go on vacation. But my father often took us on excursions to Vitosha [mountain near Sofia]. Once, when we did not have any money, we went on foot from Sofia to Boyana Lawns [a region in Vitosha]. The distance is around 10 kilometers. We carried food, spent the whole day there and returned by tram. We really must have been in a bad financial state if we could not afford to go there and come back by tram.

Growing up

When I was a child, I was sent to a nursery in the central Jewish school. We learned songs and games there. In Sofia there were two Jewish schools. One of them was in the center and the other in the Jewish neighborhood in Iuchbunar. I was not very good at foreign languages there. I was not able to learn Ivrit well, neither French, nor any other languages.

Ivrit was taught after the fourth grade in the Jewish school. We started with general subjects in Bulgarian – natural studies, history. Honestly speaking, we did not learn spoken Ivrit there; we only read texts from the Talmud. We did not have any foreign teachers. Our Ivrit teacher’s name was Margolis. I did not know any Ivrit before I started going to school.

There were two classes in the school. The rich children studied in one of the classes. I studied in the other one together with the poorer children and those from the Jewish orphanage. But there were many excellent students in our class. I was best at maths. We studied for seven grades in the school.

I was a member of the rightist organization Betar 8. In fact, I understood nothing about politics. It so happened that the brother of a classmate of mine was chairman of Betar and he gathered a group of us and made us members of Betar. He told us about Herzl 9 and the founding of the Jewish state.

We studied in the Jewish school for half a day and then we could stay in the yard to play sports. We played various games, mostly tag and marbles. All of my friends were from the Jewish school.

When I graduated from the fourth grade, every following summer I worked as an upholsterer. I mastered that craft soon and applied it at home. We had a small sofa with sagging springs and I repaired it. One of its sides was askew, but it was very comfortable. 

Life was calm when we lived on Pozitano Street. I remember only one occasion when there were many policemen on horses on our street. That must have been in the 1930s. Maybe it was 1934, the year when there was a military coup in Bulgaria 10.

During the War

The outrages against Jews started in 1939 with fascism coming to Bulgaria. In 1940 I was already in high school. There were Branniks 11 walking along the streets, beating us with sticks and breaking the windows of the Jewish shops. After the Law for the Protection of the Nation 12 was adopted, all Jews had to wear a yellow star 13.

In 1942 I became a member of the UYW 14, because the Branniks had started harassing us a lot and the UYW members protected us. They invited me to some meetings and I took part in the spreading of leaflets against fascism. All the time the Branniks tried to beat us.

My brother’s name is Perets Kamhi. He also went to the Jewish school. When he graduated from the 7th Men’s High School, he started working in a foundry producing door handles. Then he was mobilized to a labor camp in 1942 15. I do not know the exact place where he worked, but I know that he built roads. He had to break down large stones into gravel, with which the roads were covered. The work was very hard.

After that my brother was interned with us to Kyustendil. In Kyustendil he was also obliged to do hard labor for free. He did the same job – digging gravel for road construction. My brother was a UYW member in Sofia and he contacted his friends from the capital. Some months later he decided to escape and he became a partisan in the squad of Slavcho Transki. 

My sister Donka worked as a clerk in the post office. After 1944 she did some administrative work for the Bulgarian Army. Now she lives in Sofia. She married a Bulgarian and now they live in a village. They have two children – Beatriche and Ivan.

I was a member of the UYW in high school. We gathered and talked about fascism in Bulgaria. We spread leaflets against fascism. That was dangerous and we hid from the police. We also made a demonstration. That happened on 24th May 1943 16. The UYW organization decided to organize a protest against the internment of Jews and the Law for the Protection of the Nation. At the time of the demonstration it had already been decided to intern us.

A lot of people gathered in front of the Jewish school. There were also speakers. Then we headed for Klementina Blvd [present-day Stamboliiski Blvd.]. We marched towards the center, but when we reached Opalchenska Street policemen on horses surrounded us and dispersed us. A young man and I managed to escape by telling a policeman that we lived in the area. And my friend really lived on Stamboliiski Blvd. We went to his place. Many people were arrested at the demonstration.

At the same time my father worked in a leather processing factory and was on his way back home from work. The police detained him for a while in the afternoon, but when they realized that he was not directly involved in the protest, they released him. They had also arrested some colleagues of his. Their work involved working with chemicals and the smell about them proved that they had been at work. Previously my father had worked for a short time in the leather processing factory owned by my mother’s brother. But at the time of the protest he was working in another one.

On 27th May we received the notice that we were to be interned to the town of Kyustendil. I think that someone came to tell us that in person. At that time we wore yellow stars which showed that we were Jews. I had been wearing such a star since 1940. If we had not worn them, we could have been sent to a concentration camp. We were allowed to keep our houses but most of the Jews sold away their possessions.

We arrived in Kyustendil by train and we were accommodated in the Jewish school. We slept on the floor on blankets which we brought from home. We ate from a big cauldron where they prepared some food for us. Shortly after, I started work. At first I was a waiter in a cafeteria for the meager sum of 20 levs a day – the price of one loaf of bread.

Each evening the interned Jews gathered in the Jewish school and once I was told that I could go and take part in the digging of a river path, which was much better-paid. So, I started working there. The first day I was so tired, I could hardly walk. Then I got used to it and even dug much more than the others.

My father also came to work with me. We could afford better housing and rented an apartment. My brother was in a labor camp and came back at the beginning of 1944. He escaped at the beginning of May and became a partisan.

Soon people found out that my brother was not returning home. One of our landlady’s sons worked in the police. My father was arrested to be questioned about his son. He did not say anything and spent 20 days in the police station, where he was beaten. At that time I was the only one who worked – we had to bring him food to the police station and pay our rent. We managed to keep ends meet because my employer paid me regularly and was a very honest man.

Something interesting happened one day. I had to dig an area one meter deep, seven meters long and four meters wide. But the supervisor deliberately measured the width of my excavation right to its very limits where it was 20 centimeters more shallow. His son also worked there and he probably wanted to write down that his son had completed my work. But the technician saw that, corrected the measurements and paid me the full sum. I was very happy with the organization of labor there.

At the beginning of June 1944 our whole family was interned to Pleven, the Kailuka area, where a concentration camp had been built 17. We were shut in a wooden shed. They put it on fire during the night and my mother was burned alive. My mother had a long dress which got stuck between the boards of the house and she could not get out. I tried to pull her out, but I could not.

We were released on 21st August 1944. We went to Pazardzhik first, to Liza’s place. Liza was my mother’s sister. My father was sent to a labor camp in Enikioy 18. My sister and I waited for our father and our brother to return. My father came back at the end of August 1944 and we celebrated 9th September 1944 there.

Long after 9th September we waited for my brother to appear. There was information that his squad had gone to Yugoslavia with the partisans there. Some men of his team had really gone there after one battle. We hoped that he was there, too. My sister went to Yugoslavia but learned nothing. It seems he had died as a partisan.

After the War

We came back to Sofia and found our apartment completely plundered. We had left the furniture there before we moved. Besides, some man had used the apartment as a storehouse for wood material. He quickly collected his things and left.

In 1946, I graduated from high school and started studying in the Polytechnic [it was named State Polytechnics then and now it is Technical University]. My sister Donka started work as a typist. My father once again started work as a butcher. He retired in this job.

I met my wife, Venezia Kamhi [nee Konorti], in Kyustendil. She was also interned with her family. We went out in the same company. We gathered in the Jewish school in town and had a great time. We married in 1950. I was still a student then. In 1951 I wrote my diploma and a year later I graduated. My diploma was on secondary connotation of a post station. That means distant management and protection of the high voltage of thermo-electric power plants.

When I graduated I started work in the designers’ company ‘Promproekt.’ In October 1952 I had to do my military service and was stationed in Dimitrovgrad. But after 15 days the commanding officer received an order from Sofia that five people had to return to Sofia for a course in radio location. It turned out that I was the only electrical engineer at the base. I went to Sofia and spent three months in the course on radio location, which was taught by a Soviet specialist.

Two more courses on radio location were organized after that and I taught them. One of them was for officers and the other for soldiers. The course was in Chepelare. I taught them for three months.

Then I was assigned to head a repairs workshop. There was a Soviet colonel there, who insisted that I stay on a termed service in the military, and not on a permanent one. He advised me to write that all my relatives were in Israel. I did what he told me and they kept me only one month at that job.

The job in the military was not a promising one. The technical equipment in my base was not good. We were given some appliances to repair, but we could not do it because we did not have any modern equipment.

Once a colonel came with a device to be repaired and got angry with us that it was not ready. I told him that we didn’t have the equipment to identify the malfunctioning part. He said that we did nothing the whole day and we did not need equipment for that. It was not easy to explain to him that we could not do anything without the necessary equipment.

After the service in the army I started work in the designers’ company, which split into two, and in 1957 I continued to work in one of the two new companies – Minproekt, where I designed the electrical installations of the Maritsa mine complex and the Kremikovtsi metallurgic plant. I was happy with my job and working conditions.

We could afford to go on holidays, though we did not have a car. We also went to the mountains and to the seaside. We went to the best resorts such as Borovets and Nessebar [a town in the Black Sea region with a multitude of splendidly preserved Byzantine architecture]. We were given pre-paid vouchers from my work, with which we spent two weeks at the resort.

Once I designed a project for a resting home of the miners in Nessebar on the Black Sea coast. That was the second resting home there. When it was finished, the miners gave our organization the bungalows in front of the station. We used to go there together with five more families from our organization.

At my work I did not have any problems for being a Jew. When I designed the project for the Maritsa mine complex I made model designs so my employers decided to place me in such a department. A model department is a mixed department in which architects and technicians work together on the designs.

We made model mobile electrical connecting posts, electrical boards, designs for companies. The electrical installations in the plant for metal-cutting machines in Sofia were also designed by me. The design was very practical and afterwards many companies from the country wanted to use it.

In the 1970s I continued work in the model department of Niproruda. This is also a designers’ company working mostly in the area of ore output. We had to design the underground electrical installation of a mining complex near Kyustendil. I retired in 1982. Then I started receiving commissions at home to design the electrical installations of various companies, mills and silos. I was much respected as a designer. I also educated young specialists who are working in this area now.

My wife Venezia is also of Jewish origin. My generation of Jews was brought up to sympathize with our fellow men in Israel. She was born in Sofia, but her parents are from Kyustendil. Her family was more religious than ours. Her paternal grandfather was very religious and read books in classical Hebrew. Her parents knew many songs in Ladino 19. My wife also knows some very nice songs in Ladino.

Her brother Mordohai Konorti lives in Israel where he went with their mother during the Mass Aliyah between 1948 and1950 when the government of Georgi Dimitrov 20 allowed Bulgarian Jews to move freely to their new state.

My wife worked as a seamstress after 9th September 1944 and later started making designs for clothes companies such as Osvobozhdenie, Zoya, and Lada.

My daughter Beti was born on 13th July 1952. She studied in a Bulgarian school. After 9th September 1944 the Jewish schools in Sofia were closed. My daughter was raised Jewish and feels Jewish. She did not learn Ivrit, but understands Ladino.

I also tried to raise my daughter in the ‘Jewish spirit’ and encouraged her to have Jewish friends. She also liked to mingle with other Jews. I have always lived in a Jewish environment. I still have Jewish friends from my childhood. My daughter and granddaughter have a wider circle of friends than me.

At that time, in the 1970s, Jews were scattered throughout Bulgaria and my daughter married a Bulgarian. She graduated from the Higher Polytechnical Institute in the specialty thermotechnics, but now she works as a computer specialist.

When my daughter was a child and my wife had to go to work, my wife’s aunt Matilda Miuhas helped us in looking after her. She was very religious. She observed all Jewish rituals and her husband went to the synagogue regularly. Thanks to them my daughter learned Ladino and I did not have to explain to her what it means to be Jewish. Matilda even went to the meetings of the parents’ council at my daughter’s school instead of us.

I have been a member of the [Bulgarian] Communist Party 21 since the 1950s. I approved the intervention of the Soviet Union during the crises in Hungary [in 1956] 22 and Czechoslovakia [cf. Prague Spring] 23. If someone had tried to intervene against the socialist progress in Bulgaria, I would not have approved it.

No period before or after 9th September can match the rate of construction we had then. There were people who suffered from the regime, but no one in my workplace was persecuted. The Niproruda organization consisted of more than a thousand people.

I did not keep in touch with my relatives in Israel during the wars there 24 25. It was not possible at that time. After the wars the Israeli citizens were allowed to travel and they could visit us in Bulgaria. I went to Israel for the first time in 1985. There I met my cousin Yoske, who is the son of my mother’s brother. He is older than me and left Sofia for Palestine before I was born.

During the communist regime, thanks to my wife, we always observed the Jewish holidays – mostly Pesach and Chanukkah. We celebrated them at home and we always bought matzah from the synagogue for Pesach. My wife made almond cookies and burmolikos. The [Great] Synagogue 26 in Sofia was open, but we did not go there. My family was not very religious.

Now we gather at home for Pesach and Chanukkah with my daughter’s family. We prepare a rich table. We have a chanukkiyah. My daughter’s husband is a Bulgarian and during the major Christian holidays my wife and I used to visit them at their place.

After the political changes in Bulgaria from 1989 27 life, in my opinion, became harder. That has not changed nowadays. The situation is very difficult for the retired people and the unemployed. In our designers’ company even the most ordinary draftsman went on holiday at the seaside or in the mountains. We often went to the theater and to the cinema. But nowadays with our small pensions we cannot afford to visit a cultural event.

The change in Europe can be a positive one in the long term, but it is still not such. I cannot see the end of the conflict between the Arabs and Israel and in the Middle East. Young people are still brought up to be terrorists and suicide bombers there.

For fifteen years my wife and I spent every summer in the village of Zhedna, Radomir municipality. There we were involved in agriculture and breathed fresh air. We were even members of the agricultural cooperation and received 500 square meters of land which we cultivated. We planted potatoes, beans, pumpkins, maize, sunflowers, tomatoes and other vegetables. We also had some hens but one day they were stolen. Some years ago we stopped going there.

I mostly spoke in Ladino with my wife’s aunt. When I was on a trip to Cuba in 1955-1956 I had no difficulties in understanding the language there. I designed some electrical part there and the automated system of a company producing raw material for porcelain. I was sent to supervise the process and I had to correct each one of their mistakes.

I have a dictionary in Ivrit at home, but I cannot use it very well. It is a gift from my wife’s brother, who lives in Yafo. My wife has been to Israel five times and she can speak Ivrit a little.

At the moment I spend more time at home, doing shopping and the household chores. My wife is more sociable than me and visits every event organized by the Jewish People’s Home. She also visits the ‘Golden Age’ club and the Ladino club several times a week. There they speak and practice our old Spanish language by singing songs and learning poems.

The Health club is visited by a physician and a gym instructor. I visit the Bet Am 28 only at noon from Monday to Friday when I meet friends from my generation.



Glossary

1 Expulsion of the Jews from Spain

In the 13th century, after a period of stimulating spiritual and cultural life, the economic development and wide-range internal autonomy obtained by the Jewish communities in the previous centuries was curtailed by anti-Jewish repression emerging from under the aegis of the Dominican and the Franciscan orders. There were more and more false blood libels, and the polemics, which were opportunities for interchange of views between the Christian and the Jewish intellectuals before, gradually condemned the Jews more and more, and the middle class in the rising started to be hostile with the competitor. The Jews were gradually marginalized. Following the pogrom of Seville in 1391, thousands of Jews were massacred throughout Spain, women and children were sold as slaves, and synagogues were transformed into churches. Many Jews were forced to leave their faith. About 100,000 Jews were forcibly converted between 1391 and 1412. The Spanish Inquisition began to operate in 1481 with the aim of exterminating the supposed heresy of new Christians, who were accused of secretly practicing the Jewish faith. In 1492 a royal order was issued to expel resisting Jews in the hope that if old co-religionists would be removed new Christians would be strengthened in their faith. At the end of July 1492 even the last Jews left Spain, who openly professed their faith. The number of the displaced is estimated to lie between 100,000-150,000. (Source: Jean-Christophe Attias - Esther Benbassa: Dictionnaire de civilisation juive, Paris, 1997)

2 Liberation of Bulgaria from the Ottoman rule

Russia declared war on the Ottoman Empire in early 1877 in order to secure the Mediterranean trade routes. The Russian troops, with enthusiastic and massive participation of the Bulgarians, soon occupied all of Bulgaria and reached Istanbul, and Russia dictated the Treaty of San Stefano in 1878. This provided for an autonomous Bulgarian state, under Russian protection, bordering the Black and Aegean seas. Britain and Austria-Hungary, fearing that the new state would extend Russian influence too far into the Balkans, exerted strong diplomatic pressure, which resulted in the Treaty of Berlin in the same year. According to this treaty, the newly established Bulgaria became much smaller than what was decreed by the Treaty of San Stefano, and large populations of Bulgarians remained outside the new frontiers (in Macedonia, Eastern Rumelia, and Thrace), which caused resentment that endured well into the 20th century.

3 Iuchbunar

The poorest residential district in Sofia; the word is of Turkish origin and means 'the three wells.'

4 Rakia

Strong liquor, typical in the Balkan region. It is made from different kinds of fruit (grape, plum, apricot etc.) by distillation.
5 9th September 1944: The day of the communist takeover in Bulgaria. In September 1944 the Soviet Union declared war on Bulgaria. On 9th September 1944 the Fatherland Front, a broad left-wing coalition, deposed the government. Although the communists were in the minority in the Fatherland Front, they were the driving force in forming the coalition, and their position was strengthened by the presence of the Red Army in Bulgaria. 
6 Mass Aliyah: Between September 1944 and October 1948, 7,000 Bulgarian Jews left for Palestine. The exodus was due to deep-rooted Zionist sentiments, relative alienation from Bulgarian intellectual and political life, and depressed economic conditions. Bulgarian policies toward national minorities were also a factor that motivated emigration. In the late 1940s Bulgaria was anxious to rid itself of national minority groups, such as Armenians and Turks, and thus make its population more homogeneous. More people were allowed to depart in the winter of 1948 and the spring of 1949. The mass exodus continued between 1949 and 1951: 44,267 Jews immigrated to Israel until only a few thousand Jews remained in the country.

7 Internment of Jews in Bulgaria

Although Jews living in Bulgaria were not deported to concentration camps abroad or to death camps, many were interned to different locations within Bulgaria. In accordance with the Law for the Protection of the Nation, the comprehensive anti-Jewish legislation initiated after the outbreak of WWII, males were sent to forced labor battalions in different locations of the country, and had to engage in hard work. There were plans to deport Bulgarian Jews to Nazi Death Camps, but these plans were not realized. Preparations had been made at certain points along the Danube, such as at Somovit and Lom. In fact, in 1943 the port at Lom was used to deport Jews from the Aegean Thrace and from Macedonia, but in the end, the Jews from Bulgaria proper were spared.

8 Betar in Bulgaria

Brith Trumpledor (Hebrew) meaning Trumpledor Society; right-wing Revisionist Jewish youth movement. It was founded in 1923 in Riga by Vladimir Jabotinsky, in memory of J. Trumpledor, one of the first fighters to be killed in Palestine, and the fortress Betar, which was heroically defended for many months during the Bar Kohba uprising. Its aim was to propagate the program of the revisionists and prepare young people to fight and live in Palestine. It organized emigration through both legal and illegal channels. It was a paramilitary organization; its members wore uniforms. They supported the idea to create a Jewish legion in order to liberate Palestine. From 1936-39 the popularity of Betar diminished. During WWII many of its members formed guerrilla groups. In Bulgaria the organization started publishing its newspaper in 1934. 

9 Herzl, Theodor (1860-1904)

Hungarian-born Jewish playwright, journalist and founder of the World Zionist Organization (WZO). His thought of realizing the idea of political Zionism was inspired by among other things the so-called Dreyfus affair. In the polemical essay The Jewish State (Der Judenstaat, 1896) he declares that Jews aren't only a community of believers, but also a nation with the right to its own territory and state. He was of the opinion that in the anti-Jewish mood extant in Europe, it was not possible to solve the Jewish question via either civic emancipation or cultural assimilation. After a significant diplomatic effort he succeeded in the calling of the 1st International Jewish Congress in Basil on 29-31st August 1897. The congress accepted the "Basel Program" and elected Herzl as its first president. Herzl wasn't the first to long for the return of the Jews to Palestine. He was, however, able to not only support the idea, but also to promote it politically; without his efforts the creation of the new state of Israel in the Palestine on 14th May 1948 would not have been possible. Theodor Herzl died in 1904 at the age of 44 and was buried in a Jewish cemetery in Vienna. In 1949 his remains were transported to Jerusalem, where they were laid to rest on a mountain that today carries his name (Mount Herzl).

10 19th May 1934 coup

A coup d'etat, carried out with the participation of the political circle 'Zveno', a military circle. After the coup of 19th May, a government was formed, led by Kimon Georgiev. The internal policy of that government was formed by the idea of above-all-parties authority and rule of the elite. The Turnovo Constitution was repealed for that purpose, and the National Assembly was dismissed. In its foreign affairs policy the government was striving to have warmer relationships with Yugoslavia and France, the relations with the USSR were restored. The government of Kimon Georgiev was in office until 22nd January 1935.

11 Brannik

Pro-fascist youth organization. It started operating after the Law for the Protection of the Nation was passed in 1941 and the Bulgarian government forged its pro-German policy. The Branniks regularly maltreated Jews.

12 Law for the Protection of the Nation

A comprehensive anti-Jewish legislation in Bulgaria was introduced after the outbreak of World War II. The 'Law for the Protection of the Nation' was officially promulgated in January 1941. According to this law, Jews did not have the right to own shops and factories. Jews had to wear the distinctive yellow star; Jewish houses had to display a special sign identifying it as being Jewish; Jews were dismissed from all posts in schools and universities. The internment of Jews in certain designated towns was legalized and all Jews were expelled from Sofia in 1943. Jews were only allowed to go out into the streets for one or two hours a day. They were prohibited from using the main streets, from entering certain business establishments, and from attending places of entertainment. Their radios, automobiles, bicycles and other valuables were confiscated. From 1941 on Jewish males were sent to forced labor battalions and ordered to do extremely hard work in mountains, forests and road construction. In the Bulgarian-occupied Yugoslav (Macedonia) and Greek (Aegean Thrace) territories the Bulgarian army and administration introduced extreme measures. The Jews from these areas were deported to concentration camps, while the plans for the deportation of Jews from Bulgaria proper were halted by a protest movement launched by the vice-chairman of the Bulgarian Parliament.

13 Yellow star in Bulgaria

According to a governmental decree all Bulgarian Jews were forced to wear distinctive yellow stars after 24th September 1942. Contrary to the German-occupied countries the stars in Bulgaria were made of yellow plastic or textile and were also smaller. Volunteers in previous wars, the war-disabled, orphans and widows of victims of wars, and those awarded the military cross were given the privilege to wear the star in the form of a button. Jews who converted to Christianity and their families were totally exempt. The discriminatory measures and persecutions ended with the cancellation of the Law for the Protection of the Nation on 17th August 1944.

14 UYW

The Union of Young Workers (also called Revolutionary Youth Union). A communist youth organization, which was legally established in 1928 as a sub-organization of the Bulgarian Communist Youth Union (BCYU). After the coup d'etat in 1934, when parties in Bulgaria were banned, it went underground and became the strongest wing of the BCYU. Some 70% of the partisans in Bulgaria were members of it. In 1947 it was renamed Dimitrov's Communist Youth Union, after Georgi Dimitrov, the leader of the Bulgarian Communist Party at the time.

15 Forced labor camps in Bulgaria

Established under the Council of Ministers' Act in 1941. All Jewish men between the ages of 18-50, eligible for military service, were called up. In these labor groups Jewish men were forced to work 7-8 months a year on different road constructions under very hard living and working conditions.


16 24th May 1943

Protest by a group of members of parliament led by the deputy chairman of the National Assembly, Dimitar Peshev, as well as a large section of Bulgarian society. They protested against the deportation of the Jews, which culminated in a great demonstration on 24th May 1943. Thousands of people led by members of parliament, the Eastern Orthodox Church and political parties stood up against the deportation of Bulgarian Jews. Although there was no official law preventing deportation, Bulgarian Jews were saved, unlike those from Bulgarian occupied Aegean Thrace and Macedonia.

17 Kailuka camp

Following protests against the deportation of Bulgarian Jews in Kiustendil (8th March 1943) and Sofia (24th May 1943), Jewish activists, who had taken part in the demonstrations, and their families, several hundred people, were sent to the Somovit camp. The camp had been established on the banks of the Danube, and they were deported there in preparation for their further deportation to the Nazi death camps. About 110 of them, mostly politically active people with predominantly Zionist and left-wing convictions and their relatives, were later redirected to the Kailuka camp. The camp burned down on 10th July 1944 and 10 people died in the fire. It never became clear whether it was an accident or a deliberate sabotage. 

18 Annexation of Aegean Thrace to Bulgaria in WWII

The Treaty of Neuilly, imposed by the Entente on Bulgaria after WWI, deprived the country alongside with its WWI gains (Macedonia) also of its outlet to the Aegean Sea (Aegean Thrace) that had been a part of the country since the Balkan Wars (1912/13). King Boris III (1918-43) joined the Axis in 1941 with the hope to be able to regain the lost territories. Bulgarian troops marched into the neighboring Yugoslav Macedonia and Greek Thrace. Although the territorial gains were initially very popular in Bulgaria, complications soon arose in the occupied territories. The oppressive Bulgarian administration resulted in uprisings in both occupied lands. Jews were persecuted, their property was confiscated and they had to do forced labor. Although the Jews in Bulgaria proper were saved they were exterminated in the newly gained territories. Over 11.000 Jews from the Bulgarian administered northern Greek lands (Thrace and Macedonia), mainly from Drama, Seres, Dedeagach (Alexandroupolis), Gyumyurdjina (Komotini), Kavala and Xanthi were deported and murdered in death camps in Poland. About 2.200 Jews survived.

19 Ladino

Also known as Judeo-Spanish, it is the spoken and written Hispanic language of Jews of Spanish and Portuguese origin. Ladino did not become a specifically Jewish language until after the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492 (and Portugal in 1495) - it was merely the language of their province. It is also known as Judezmo, Dzhudezmo, or Spaniolit. When the Jews were expelled from Spain and Portugal they were cut off from the further development of the language, but they continued to speak it in the communities and countries to which they emigrated. Ladino therefore reflects the grammar and vocabulary of 15th-century Spanish. In Amsterdam, England and Italy, those Jews who continued to speak 'Ladino' were in constant contact with Spain and therefore they basically continued to speak the Castilian Spanish of the time. Ladino was nowhere near as diverse as the various forms of Yiddish, but there were still two different dialects, which corresponded to the different origins of the speakers: 'Oriental' Ladino was spoken in Turkey and Rhodes and reflected Castilian Spanish, whereas 'Western' Ladino was spoken in Greece, Macedonia, Bosnia, Serbia and Romania, and preserved the characteristics of northern Spanish and Portuguese. The vocabulary of Ladino includes hundreds of archaic Spanish words, and also includes many words from different languages: mainly from Hebrew, Arabic, Turkish, Greek, French, and to a lesser extent from Italian. In the Ladino spoken in Israel, several words have been borrowed from Yiddish. For most of its lifetime, Ladino was written in the Hebrew alphabet, in Rashi script, or in Solitreo. It was only in the late 19th century that Ladino was ever written using the Latin alphabet. At various times Ladino has been spoken in North Africa, Egypt, Greece, Turkey, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Romania, France, Israel, and, to a lesser extent, in the United States and Latin America.

20 Dimitrov, Georgi (1882-1949)

A Bulgarian revolutionary, who was the head of the Comintern from 1936 through its dissolution in 1943, secretary general of the Bulgarian Communist Party from 1945 to 1949, and prime minister of Bulgaria from 1946 to 1949. He rose to international fame as the principal defendant in the Leipzig Fire Trial in 1933. Dimitrov put up such a consummate defense that the judicial authorities had to release him.
21 Bulgarian Communist Party [up to 1990]: The ruling party of the People's Republic of Bulgaria from 1946 until 1990, when it ceased to be a Communist state. The Bulgarian Communist Party had dominated the Fatherland Front coalition that took power in 1944, late in World War II, after it led a coup against Bulgaria's fascist government in conjunction with the Red Army's crossing the border. The party's origins lay in the Social Democratic and Labor Party of Bulgaria, which was founded in 1903 after a split in the Social-Democratic Party. The party's founding leader was Dimitar Blagoev and its subsequent leaders included Georgi Dimitrov.

22 1956

It designates the Revolution, which started on 23rd October 1956 against Soviet rule and the communists in Hungary. It was started by student and worker demonstrations in Budapest and began with the destruction of Stalin's gigantic statue. Moderate communist leader Imre Nagy was appointed as prime minister and he promised reform and democratization. The Soviet Union withdrew its troops which had been stationed in Hungary since the end of World War II, but they returned after Nagy's declaration that Hungary would pull out of the Warsaw Pact to pursue a policy of neutrality. The Soviet army put an end to the uprising on 4th November, and mass repression and arrests began. About 200,000 Hungarians fled from the country. Nagy and a number of his supporters were executed. Until 1989 and the fall of the communist regime, the Revolution of 1956 was officially considered a counter-revolution.

23 Prague Spring

A period of democratic reforms in Czechoslovakia, from January to August 1968. Reformatory politicians were secretly elected to leading functions of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia (KSC). Josef Smrkovsky became president of the National Assembly, and Oldrich Cernik became the Prime Minister. Connected with the reformist efforts was also an important figure on the Czechoslovak political scene, Alexander Dubcek, General Secretary of the KSC Central Committee (UV KSC). In April 1968 the UV KSC adopted the party's Action Program, which was meant to show the new path to socialism. It promised fundamental economic and political reforms. On 21st March 1968, at a meeting of representatives of the USSR, Hungary, Poland, Bulgaria, East Germany and Czechoslovakia in Dresden, Germany, the Czechoslovaks were notified that the course of events in their country was not to the liking of the remaining conference participants, and that they should implement appropriate measures. In July 1968 a meeting in Warsaw took place, where the reformist efforts in Czechoslovakia were designated as "counter-revolutionary." The invasion of the USSR and Warsaw Pact armed forces on the night of 20th August 1968, and the signing of the so-called Moscow Protocol ended the process of democratization, and the Normalization period began.

24 Six-Day-War

(Hebrew: Milhemet Sheshet Hayamim), also known as the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, Six Days War, or June War, was fought between Israel and its Arab neighbors Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. It began when Israel launched a preemptive war on its Arab neighbors; by its end Israel controlled the Gaza Strip, the Sinai Peninsula, the West Bank, and the Golan Heights. The results of the war affect the geopolitics of the region to this day.

25 Yom Kippur War (1973 Arab-Israeli War)

(Hebrew: Milchemet Yom HaKipurim), also known as the October War, the 1973 Arab-Israeli War, and the Ramadan War, was fought from 6th October (the day of Yom Kippur) to 24th October 1973, between Israel and a coalition of Egypt and Syria. The war began when Egypt and Syria launched a surprise joint attack in the Sinai and Golan Heights, respectively, both of which had been captured by Israel during the Six-Day-War six years earlier. The war had far-reaching implications for many nations. The Arab world, which had been humiliated by the lopsided defeat of the Egyptian-Syrian-Jordanian alliance during the Six-Day-War, felt psychologically vindicated by its string of victories early in the conflict. This vindication, in many ways, cleared the way for the peace process which followed the war. The Camp David Accords, which came soon after, led to normalized relations between Egypt and Israel - the first time any Arab country had recognized the Israeli state. Egypt, which had already been drifting away from the Soviet Union, then left the Soviet sphere of influence almost entirely.

26 Sofia Great Synagogue

Located in the center of Sofia, it is the third largest synagogue in Europe after the ones in Budapest and Amsterdam; it can house more than 1,300 people. It was designed by Austrian architect Grunander in the Moor style. It was opened on 9th September 1909 in the presence of King Ferdinand and Queen Eleonora.

27 10th November 1989

After 35 years of rule, Communist Party leader Todor Zhivkov was replaced by the hitherto Prime Minister Peter Mladenov who changed the Bulgarian Communist Party's name to Socialist Party. On 17th November 1989 Mladenov became head of state, as successor of Zhivkov. Massive opposition demonstrations in Sofia with hundreds of thousands of participants calling for democratic reforms followed from 18th November to December 1989. On 7th December the 'Union of Democratic Forces' (SDS) was formed consisting of different political organizations and groups. 

28 Bet Am

The Jewish center in Sofia today, housing all Jewish organizations.

Maria Koblik-Zeltser

Maria Koblik-Zeltser
Kishinev
Moldova
Interviewer: Zhanna Litinskaya
Date of interview: July 2004

Maria Koblik-Zeltser is a young-looking woman with long auburn hair dressed in light pants and a sweater. She looks much younger than her age. There are a lot of books and pictures in the apartment. These were given to her husband, a great scientist. She lives in a cozy apartment in a shady street in Kishinev [Chisinau in Moldova]. Maria is brisk and agile. She easily hops on the stool and takes the books and photographs from the top shelves of a bookcase. The first time we met we were looking through albums and photographs, paper clips from medical journals, where her husband’s works were published. During the first day of the interview Maria was somehow embarrassed when the dictaphone was on and felt ill at ease. But later she paid no attention to it anymore, being deeply immersed in her recollections.

My family backgrownd

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family backgrownd

When I go back to my childhood, the first thing I remember is the town Rezina [80 km from Kishinev], where I was born and where my relatives spent their childhood. Sometimes, I think that it is the most beautiful place in the universe. I must be nostalgic about my childhood. At the beginning of the 20th century Rezina was a little town with a predominantly Jewish population [in 1897 there were 3,182 Jews (85 percent of the total population)]. The town stands on a picturesque place of the steep bend of the river Dniestr. As far as I remember, the town of the 1930s consisted of three long streets, running perpendicular to the river. Almost all the stores belonged to Jews. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the names of the owners. I only remember that one of the cafes was owned by my mother’s friend Madam Stekolshchik, and one of the stores belonged to Mr. Milstein, my classmate’s father.

The market was on Podgornaya Street. It was open for several days a week. Moldovans from the adjacent villages used to come to the market on carts to sell their produce – meat, chicken, grapes and other fruits, vegetables – and to buy the goods they needed – certain groceries, knick-knacks, fabric and dirt cheap souvenirs for children. A large Orthodox church, surrounded by an orchard was located on the square of this street. The bell toll was heard all over the town. There was only one church and there were several synagogues. The first and the largest synagogue was called ‘Itsik and Monek.’ They say it was built by the Jew Monek and his son Itsik. It was a large two-storied synagogue attended by wealthy Jews: entrepreneurs, merchants and intelligentsia – doctors and lawyers. There was also the synagogue of the tailors [synagogue maintained by the tailors’ guild union] and the synagogue called ‘Old and New Synagogue.’ The synagogue was called this because it was a very old building, restored, remodeled and considerably expanded in the late 19th century.

I didn’t know my paternal grandfather. All I know is that his name was Leibl Kozhushnyan, and he was born in the 1840s in Bessarabia 1. I don’t know exactly where he was born. The origin of my paternal grandfather’s name is unknown. Such surnames don’t indicate nationality, but rather craft or the place of origin. In Bessarabia there was the hamlet of Kozhushki, not far from Rezina. The roots of our family are probably from there. I know that Grandfather’s first wife died at a young age, and Grandfather had a son from the first marriage, who lived in the town of Orhei [about 40 km from Kishinev]. I have never seen him. I don’t remember his name either. Grandfather Leibl got married for a second time. His wife was his age. She was born in Kishinev. My grandmother Charna was born in 1847. I don’t remember her maiden name.

Grandfather Leibl was involved in commerce like most of the Jews in Rezina. [Editor’s note: in Rezina a considerable part of the Jewish population engaged in viniculture and tobacco production. In 1925, 200 Jewish families cultivated an area of 1,567 hectares, 1,400 of which were rented.] I don’t know exactly what he did for a living. Grandfather died at the beginning of the 20th century. I know for sure that Grandfather wasn’t alive when the first child of my parents was born in 1909, because my elder brother was named after our grandfather [one of the most common practices is to name a child to honor a relative. Sephardi Jews name their children freely after both living and deceased relatives. However, Ashkenazim rarely name children after living relatives].

Charna and Leibl had four children. My father was the eldest. Then in two or three years two sisters were born: Menya and Riva. Froim was the youngest. Aunt Menya and her husband Leizer Zhovnar lived in the village of Sarateny [about 45 km from Kishinev], not far from Orhei. Leizer owned a lot of land. He was involved in tobacco production. He worked in the field from morning till night all year round. He didn’t hire workers full time, only in winter time he hired a couple of workers for processing of tobacco. Their little family was rather well-off. Menya didn’t have children and she was suffering because of that.

Menya loved us, her nephews and nieces, very much. She really adored us. She invited us to visit her during summer time and gave us all kinds of presents. She also treated her husband’s nephews very well. Her husband had a lot of brothers, who lived in Sarateny and adjacent hamlets. Leizer even adopted a younger daughter of his sister, who was indigent. His step-daughter’s name was Haikele. Menya and Leizer loved her like their own flesh and blood. In 1941, when World War II broke out 2, Меnya and Leizer didn’t manage to get evacuated. They gave their cart to Haikele and her mother. The girl wasn’t able to come back to take her stepparents as the occupiers had already come to the village. Haikele couldn’t forgive herself for their death. She thought till the last minute of her life that it was her fault that Menya and Leizer hadn’t been evacuated.

Father’s second sister Riva lived in Orhei with her husband. I only remember that his surname was Sharf. Riva had five children. The eldest son, Lev, and the youngest, Sholik, became pharmacists. The middle son Abram was a driver. Riva’s daughters Zina and Rosa were married to rather well-off Jews. Zina graduated from the Bucharest University [today Romania], from the Economics department. She lived with her husband in Bucharest. She worked as an economist for large companies. When the Soviet regime came to power in 1940 3, Zina with her family moved to Kishinev. Riva died in the middle of the 1960s and all her children with the exception of Zina left for Israel in the 1980s. Zina and her husband came back to Bucharest after World War II. She lived there for a long time and recently died at the age of 85.

My father’s younger brother Froim, born at the end of the 1890s, was drafted into the Tsarist army [in this period Bessarabia was part of the Russian Empire] during World War I and perished in 1916.

My father, Yankel Kozhushnyan, was born in 1880 in Rezina. Father got only elementary Jewish education at cheder, which was traditional for Jewish families. Nevertheless Father was good at writing in Russian and Romanian. He read a lot of Pushkin’s 4 works and cited them. Father was well up in book-keeping, trade and commerce. Father became a grown-up rather early. When Grandfather died, he became the head and the bread-winner of the family of three women: grandmother and his two younger sisters. Father began to work at a young age. He was an assistant to a salesman and gradually he became a salesman in a large store, owned by a wealthy Jew. Father was a very honest man and the owner of the store totally trusted him. Father learnt a lot from him and began making pretty good money.

Father was very popular with Rezina’s potential brides as he was a modern, young, well-dressed man and a good dancer. When Father decided that it was time for him to get married, he was introduced to my mother by match-makers. Father came to meet my mother in the town of Soroca [about 150 km from Kishinev], where my mother lived. He enchanted her and all relatives and left… He came back in a year and without explaining anything proposed to my mother. It didn’t take her long to say yes. Then Father used to say that he fell in love with my mother at first sight, and it was unexpected to him, but he felt responsible for his younger siblings and left home to tackle things at home and earn some money for the wedding. He planned to come back to my mother.

I didn’t know my maternal grandparents either. They died before I was born. My grandfather Nahman Gitelmaher was born in the 1850s in the town of Soroca. Grandfather was much older than grandmother Menihe. I don’t know Grandmother’s maiden name. I know that she died of cancer at the age of 54, leaving four children behind. Grandfather was a literate man, he worked as a clerk. He didn’t have his own business. Grandfather Nahman didn’t live a very long life, though he managed to marry off his daughters and sons. He died in 1916. Grandfather had been working from morning till night, trying to earn a living for his children. He tried to educate his children as he was literate and educated himself.

The first child born by Menihe died an infant in the 1880s. After that Grandmother didn’t have children for many years. When she was on the verge of leaving for Kharkov [today Ukraine, about 450 km east of Kiev] in 1886, where Grandfather was doing his army service, her neighbors wished her to bring back two children, according to a family legend. Our family always remembered that wish of our neighbors with a smile. Their good wish was realized. In 1887 Grandmother gave birth to twins in Kharkov. The twins were my mother Soibel and her brother Aron. In a year or two a girl, Tuba, was born, then a boy Motle followed his sister. When Grandmother died Mother became the head of the family, though she was only fourteen. She was a real homemaker: cooked food, washed linen, cleaned, helped Grandfather raise his younger children. I don’t know whether Mother got some education. I think she finished a couple of classes in the lyceum [high school]. Mother was very literate: she could read and write in Russian and Romanian. She was an erudite. Besides, Mother was very strong-willed. She was actually the head of the family. She had the last word in decisions made by her siblings and later on my father didn’t take any actions, even connected with his work, without having a word with my mother.

My mother’s family was very religious. After Grandmother’s death my mother, being the head of the family, made sure that the rites and traditions were observed. She prepared the house for Sabbath by herself. Sabbath candles were lit by her. My mother told me that once on Sabbath when she was reading a prayer the curtains caught fire from the candles. Mother was at a loss. She couldn’t interrupt the prayer. Then she started to cry out the words of the prayer, in order to draw attention to herself, for people to see the fire.

Her eldest brother Aron also had another name. He was very feeble and ill in childhood and the rabbi advised to give him another name of Bukka [a protecting name]. He was called Bukka all the time, though it was written Aron in his documents. Aron finished elementary school. Then he went to the lyceum for a couple of years. He became a rather prosperous entrepreneur, though I don’t remember what kind of business he had. He had a wife, Surke, and children. They lived in Soroca. Aron had a large house. There was a club and summer movie house in his yard. All that property belonged to him. He was a patron of the arts. Jewish theater troupes, which came on tour, staged performances in his club. The performances were free of charge. There was no theater troupe in the town.

Aron had four children: the eldest Revekka, the sons Mikhail and Modik and the youngest, Menihe. By the way, all of my mother’s siblings had a daughter named after Grandmother Menihe. Revekka studied for a couple of years in the medical institute in Iasi, but she stopped studying when she got married. Her husband was a pharmacist. She had two sons, whose names I don’t remember. Revekka died at the age of 80 in Israel. It happened a couple of years ago. Mikhail, who had graduated from the institute – I don’t know exactly, I think it was a technical institution in Bucharest – was in the front lines during World War II. Then he lived in Chernivtsy [today Ukraine, about 430 km west of Kiev]. Mikhail was married, but he didn’t have children. He also immigrated to Israel. He died recently. Modik, who was my age, died at the front in 1944. He is buried in a mass grave somewhere in Czechoslovakia. Menihe went there a couple of times. Menihe is not alive either. Aron died in Kishinev in the middle of the 1960s.

Mother’s sister Tuba and her husband Boris Baletnik lived in the Ukrainian city of Pervomaysk Mykolayiv oblast [about 330 km south of Kiev]. Both of them worked in the bar at the station. They had a very modest living. Tuba had four children; I remember the names of three of them –Menihe, Nahman, who died at a young age, and Mikhail, who died in the lines in the 1940s. Having returned from evacuation Tuba, her husband and daughter settled in Soroca. She died in the 1960s, shortly after Uncle Aron.

The youngest in the family, Motle, born at the end of the 1890s, worked for a publishing house after finishing elementary school and vocational school. He had a significant position by the beginning of World War II. He was the director of the publishing house in Soroca. Motle had a wife, Fradya, and three daughters: the eldest Haya, middle Zoya and the youngest called Maria 5. When she was born she was given the name of Menihe. All of them were in evacuation and came back to Soroca after World War II. Uncle Motle died in Kishinev in the 1980s. His daughters passed away as well. My namesake Maria was the closest to me. She also became a doctor. She died in Israel two years ago.

My parents had their wedding in Soroca under a chuppah in accordance with the Jewish rite. They settled in Rezina. Some time later my father opened a drapery store. My parents used to live in rented apartments, changing them every couple of years. The first room of their apartment was always used as a store. In December 1909 Mother gave birth to her first child. The boy was named Leibl after our grandfather. Mother didn’t have children for a couple of years, and then two sons were born, with the difference of one year. Abram was born in 1913 and Velvl in 1914. I don’t know about the life of my family in that period of time. Fortunately, Father wasn’t drafted into the army when World War I started. First, he was the bread-winner of the family with three children and besides he was to take care of his mother Charna. Grandmother Charna lived in Rezina, but not with our family. Father rented a room for her.

In 1918 when the entire Bessarabia, including Rezina was annexed to Romania 6, our family was not much affected by that. Father kept working in the store. He coped with work by himself. He had no assistants. We had a rather modest living. My parents thought that it was the most important thing for their sons to be educated. All of them went to a Romanian lyceum in Rezina. When the youngest was twelve, mother unexpectedly got pregnant. First, she was at a loss. She didn’t know what to do as she was about forty, but the wish to have a daughter was stronger. On 9th December 1926 she understood from her previous experience that she was having labor pains and sent her eldest son Leibl to bring a midwife. Mrs. Paromshchik was the midwife in our town. While the son was thinking where to go, parturition began. That was the way I, the youngest in the family, was born on 9th December 1926. My parents were happy. They had dreamt of having a daughter. In accordance with the tradition in my mother’s family I was named Menihe after my maternal grandmother. However, later on when I was getting my official documents I changed my name to the Russian Maria, as it was more euphonic.

I had a wonderful childhood. My mother was deeply immersed in looking after me and taking care of the house. Father loved me very much as well. In spite of the fact that there were four children in the family, I was raised as an only child, because my siblings were much older than I was. They were interested in other things, but it didn’t mean that they didn’t care for me. They treated me very well, even pampering me sometimes. I didn’t see them very often. When I got a little older they left Rezina to continue their education.

Growing up

One of the things that I remember from my childhood is saying goodbye to my eldest brother. In 1929 he finished lyceum and ranked top among the students, having an exceptional talent in humanities – philosophy and history. Leibl wanted to go on with his education, but he understood that our father wouldn’t be able to pay for it, as there were two more people in the family who needed to go to lyceum, and besides my mother and I were to be taken care of as well. Leibl and three of his friends decided to go to Belgium to enter a university there. Father gave him money only for the trip. My brother wasn’t hurt as he understood that Father did all he could.

The four friends came to the town of Liege. Leibl entered the Pharmaceutical Department at the University. His friends also became students. They lived together in a rented apartment. One Jew from Bessarabia found a job for them. They were lodging in turns at the electric station. Leibl managed to graduate from the institute and began to work. I remember how my parents rejoiced when he sent them his first salary. By that time Abram had graduated from the lyceum and entered Iasi University 7, the Law Department. The youngest son, Velvl, studied in the lyceum in Soroca. Mother’s brother Aron took Velvl to him. Having finished lyceum Velvl entered the Medical Department of Bucharest University. Father had to support two students.

We always lived in a rented apartment. To have our own house still remained a cherished and unrealizable dream for us. Mother spent almost all her time with me. We went shopping together – to the stores and to the market. We enjoyed taking pictures rather often – sometimes the three of us, sometimes the whole family was in the pictures. There were two photography shops. One of them belonged to Golovanevskiy, and the other one belonged to Zilberman. Our family preferred having pictures taken at Golovanevskiy’s. They often took my pictures free of charge and placed them in the window case. They said I was a very pretty child. We took pictures to send them to Leibl in Belgium. He was missing us very much and he couldn’t afford to come home for a visit.

Our family observed Jewish traditions. Father usually wore a cap or a hat; he covered his head with a kippah only while praying. Mother didn’t wear a wig. She covered her head with a kerchief only when she went to the synagogue, and Father wore tallit and tefillin only when he went to the synagogue. Mother stuck to kosher principles in cooking. There were specially marked dishes for cooking dairy and meat, as well as hardware and cutting boards.

Sabbath was a holiday for me when I was a child. On Friday Mother bought a chicken and went to the shochet to have it slaughtered. We also bought fish brought from Kishinev. We bought Sabbath challah in the bakery. Besides, Mother baked her own sweet challah. Not every Jewish family could afford fancy challah made of the premium flour. The dishes cooked for Sabbath were kept in the oven. On Sabbath my parents went to the synagogue. Both of them had their own seats in the large two-storied synagogue, which was the most beautiful one in Rezina. On Saturdays my father’s store was closed. When my parents came back from the synagogue Mother took the warm dinner from the oven and we had a meal.

Rosh Hashanah is the first holiday in the Jewish year. It is very ceremonious. Mother laid the table with the best dishes cooked by her. Gefilte fish [filled fish balls] was one of them. Father enjoyed it the most, saying that it was the tastiest dish. We could hear shofar sounds from the synagogues, and that sound of a trumpet seemed pristine to me and made me think about Palestine, the Jews and their history.

I remember fasting at Yom Kippur. I began fasting early, since eight. [Editor’s note: Usually 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 thirteen, girls from twelve.] It was my initiative. We had a lavish dinner on the eve of the fasting day. On the fasting day parents didn’t eat nor drink for the whole day. They usually spent this day in the synagogue, praying. Sometimes Mother came home for a couple of hours to take a rest. In the evening Mother laid a table either at home or in the café of her friend where our families got together. It was hard for me to fast. The hardest thing was being thirsty. Once, Mother fainted because of hunger, when she wasn’t very young anymore and ill.

We usually went to my uncle to celebrate Sukkot. He had his own house, where he made the sukkah. Grape vines were hanging down from the roof of the balcony and reached the table where we had dinner during the holiday. The next holiday of Simchat Torah was very mirthful, making young and elder people agile. [Simchat Torah (‘Rejoicing in the Torah’) celebrates the receiving of the Torah by dancing and singing. Drinking is also common during this time.] I remember how the Torah scroll was carried along our streets and followed by the dancing religious Jews. On Chanukkah my mother and I often went to her siblings in Soroca. They gave me very generous presents and Chanukkah money [Chanukkah gelt]. I felt at home in the house of Aron and Motle.

I also liked the Purim holiday a lot. There was a nice impromptu carnival procession in the street. I knew the story of Esther since early childhood. Father told me about Esther, who saved the Jews. Mother made me the costume of Esther. What I like the most was the Jewish tradition to bring presents, the so-called ‘shelakhmones’ [a tray usually filled with sweets and apples]. In the evening the trays with the treats were brought from Madam Stekolshchik and another friend of my mother’s, whose husband was the owner of the mill. We treated them as well. Unfortunately, people started to forget about this tradition in the course of time. Even at the end of the 1930s, only several families kept that tradition. I remember one very religious tailor lived at one end of the town and his nephew at the other one, and when they were carrying the treats to each other, people mocked them saying that the tradition was outdated. I am sorry that this festive mood connected with Purim is gone.

Pesach was my favorite holiday. We were on holiday at school. Bedsides, my brothers Abram and Velvl used to come. Mother got ready for the holiday beforehand. She bought chicken, meat, fish and cleaned the house. There was a present for each member of the family. They had a new coat made for me and ordered new patent-leather shoes for me. The first seder was the most ceremonious one. Father was leaning on the pillows [according to the Jewish tradition the eldest man in the family, the one who conducted seder, was supposed to recline on something soft (usually pillows were used for that), which was the embodiment of relaxation and exemption from slavery], covered with white cloth. Father was wearing festive tallit. Matzah and afikoman were hidden under the pillows. The person who found the afikoman was supposed to get a present. There was traditional food on the table: an egg, a potato, bitter herbs, chicken drumstick and matzah. Apart from the common festive dishes such as stew, gefilte fish, chicken broth there were a lot of dishes from matzah: all kinds of casseroles and tsimes. My brothers stayed with us for the entire holiday period, though they weren’t religious any more. They studied in secular universities in the capital. Like most young people of that time they left home and stopped being religious and following Jewish traditions. Rarely, only when they came home, did they participate in the celebration of Jewish holidays, out of respect for their parents and a tribute to traditions.

When I turned seven, I started going to the Jewish school Tarbut 8. It was a secular school, where along with common subjects, Hebrew, Jewish history and religion were taught. We studied Jewish literature, read and recited large excerpts from literary works. I had quite a good command of Hebrew at that time, but now I don’t remember anything unfortunately. After finishing elementary school I went to State Romanian Lyceum. It was a co-ed, where boys and girls studied. It wasn’t hard for me to pass the entrance exams and I was accepted without any bias. There were a lot of Jews in our class as the town was predominantly Jewish, and there was no Jewish lyceum.

I made friends with Jewish children. Slava Milstein was my best friend. Her father was the owner of a store. I also had a friendly relationship with Mara Gerkovich, whose father was a very wealthy man, a manager of a department of the Jewish bank. One boy, Fima Redka, was also my friend. He lived next door. He was from Kishinev. He came to Rezina with his mother and brother after his father had died. In Rezina his grandfather owned a large grocery store. They were very wealthy people. Fima asked his mother to buy textbooks for both of us to be able to see me more often – at that time people shared books to save money – so we studied together. As far as I remember Fima was always by me. He was a funny red-haired boy. I even taught him to embroider and his embroidery was placed next to mine on the annual exhibitions in the lyceum. I was an excellent student. I got prizes every year. The first prize was usually taken by Mara Gerkovich. As a rule, I took the second or the third, sometimes sharing it with Fima. We received books, school paraphernalia, school bags, backpacks. I had studied there for three years and then the lyceum was closed down.

During that time the position of our family had changed. My brother Leibl sent the money from Belgium regularly and finally Father was able to save money to buy his own apartment. He purchased a part of a house with a basement, which belonged to our distant relative. We had a separate entrance in the house. The apartment consisted of three rooms. As usual, there was a store in the first room. The second was a bedroom with three beds: two for my parents, and one for me, and the third one was a sort of a drawing-room combined with a kitchen. Since we didn’t have a separate kitchen Mother placed the primus [Primus stove: a small portable stove with a container for about 1 liter of kerosene that was pumped into burners] behind the curtain. The next year Father hired some workers and they joined the kitchen with the balcony to our apartment. We had a wonderful yard. There was a chicken coop in the yard. We also had a wine cellar. We didn’t have our own grapes. Father bought them at a cheap price and made wine. We drank homemade wine on Sabbath and on holidays.

The three of us lived in that apartment. Grandmother Charna died in 1935. She was buried in accordance with the Jewish traditions. We were mourning over her. I didn’t go to her funeral because of being ill. I remember my grandmother always being brisk and merry.

The coming year brought certain events to our country and in our family life as well. At that time the Bessarabian Jewish youth was divided in two groups – the adherents of Zionism 9 and underground Komsomol 10 Communists, who were striving for a Soviet mode of life and spreading the ideas of equality and fraternity. My elder brother Abram, who was then living in Rezina, became an active member of an underground Komsomol organization. In Iasi, where he studied at the university, he was seeing a girl and when her parents insisted on the wedding, Abram rejected his bride. He was totally devoted to Communism and reckoned that he couldn’t be tied with a nuptial knot. Mother was really worried and shed a lot of tears because of that. Abram was arrested a couple of times, but he didn’t stay in prison for a long time. He was released in a couple of months. He was banned from living in Rezina after he graduated from the university, because our town was a frontier one, and the Soviet Union was on the opposite bank of the Dniestr. When Abram graduated from university he began to work for a law firm in Kishinev. Then he moved to a little town close to Bucharest. 

Mother knew hardly anything about her younger son Velvl. He finished a couple of years of the medical department. In 1938 Aunt Tuba sent a letter from Ukraine. The letter was written in an allegoric style and mother understood that Velvl had crossed the border and stayed in Pervomaysk at his aunt’s. Our aunt wasn’t able to write long frank letters and forbade my mother to respond to her letters. She didn’t even indicate her address as she was afraid to be persecuted by the authorities 11, but we began to understand those things much later, in the 1940s, when we became citizens of the USSR, when mother was keen to receive letters from abroad with the message about her eldest son.

In 1939 Leibl, who had finally settled in Liege, sent money for Mother and me to come and visit him. I was looking forward to our trip. First, we went to Kishinev. Then we left for Bucharest. In Kishinev my mother and I went shopping and bought fashionable crêpe de Chine dresses and took pictures. We went to Belgium from Bucharest. I don’t remember much about Belgium. Leibl met us at the train station. He was so handsome in a dressy three-piece suite. We were with his fiancée. From the train station we went to some spa and stayed there for a month.

When we came back to Rezina my family decided that I should go on with my studies. In September mother took me to Orhei and I entered a lyceum there. I lived with Aunt Rivka for some time. Then Mother rented a room for me. I shared it with two more girls from the lyceum. I lived in Orhei for a year. My parents often came for a visit. My brother Abram came once. I went home for Jewish holidays. Abram used to come as well. Both of us were at the festive table. Once, mother came on a sleigh to take me home for the winter vacation. She also took one of the lads from Rezina, who also studied in Orhei. I knew him, but I didn’t communicate with him as he was four years older than me. His name was Froike [full name Froim]. On our way there was a blizzard, the road was covered deeply with snow and we had to stay in a village overnight. The host gave us warm tea. When we came back to Rezina, Froike’s mother met us, sobbing, and said that she had lost all hope to see us alive. At that time I liked the handsome and reasonable Froike, but I couldn’t envisage that all my adult life would be connected with him and he would become my husband.

I was only one year in Orhei and came back home. In late June 1940 Soviet troops entered Bessarabia and the Soviet power was established. It was rather peaceful. We went out to meet the Soviet soldiers, marching in the streets. They looked dusty, dirty and exhausted. Mother was worried about Abram as he lived on the Romanian territory. There was no news from him for the whole week. On the seventh day the lady from the telephone station came to us and said that Abram was calling. Mother went to have a talk with him. She came back very happy. It turned out that Abram was able to reach Kishinev and called from there. Mother said that she wouldn’t let this son go away. She left for Kishinev and came back with Abram the next day.

Abram took an active part in social work and soon was nominated the chairman of the municipal council. He had worked there for a month and then he was transferred to the integrated industrial complex and became its chairman. Abram got married two months after coming back to his native town, to a Jewish girl, Genya. She was the secretary of the municipal council. Abram had known her since taking part in the underground Komsomol organization. She also took an active part in that organization. Genya was even in prison with Abram.

Soon after the Soviets came to power they started to fight against the kulaks 12 and carried out nationalization of property. Many owners of stores and other entrepreneurs weren’t only sequestrated of their property, but also exiled to Siberia. Many of our acquaintances were predestined for that. The family of my mother’s friend Slava Milstein, whose father was the owner of the mill, was also exiled. Owing to Abram’s position as the chairman of the municipal council, we were treated loyally. Father was given the opportunity to sell out his goods and after that his store was requisitioned. Even the apartment, purchased with the money earned due to hard work, was to belong to the nation-wide property. We weren’t evicted though, and kept on living in the house which wasn’t owned by us any more.

Mother was crying stealthily, and didn’t want to say anything to Abram, as he considered all actions of the Soviet regime to be right. Father, who turned sixty, worked as a foreman in some enterprise. I went to the eighth grade of the ordinary Soviet school. First, it was hard for me to study as the classes were in Russian. I was surprised that it didn’t take me long to become proficient in Russian. Mother helped me a lot in that, as she was good at Russian. I was a good student. The first year of studies at the Soviet school went by very quickly. I became a pioneer 13 and finished the eighth grade ranking top among the students as usual.

During the war

On Sunday 22nd June 1941 we were expecting guests: my uncle Motle, who worked as a director of a publishing house in Soroca, and his daughter Hayusya. All of us were going to visit Aunt Menya. As usual, Mother got ready to receive guests and baked pies. But the train they took was a couple of hours late. At noon, Molotov 14 held a speech on the radio on the outbreak of the Great Patriotic War. Our get-together with my uncle and Hayusya was very sad. They left almost at once. In three days, Genya, Abram’s wife, gave birth to a girl. She was named Liya after a Communist friend, who perished in a Romanian prison. Germans started bombing the town as there was a bridge across the Dniestr, which was the target for the Germans. Abram decided that we should leave the town and in two weeks the whole family – I, Mother, Father and Genya with her baby – left for Sarateny where Aunt Menya lived. Hardly had we driven a couple of kilometers, as a messenger stopped us and told us to go back. Abram met us and told us to get evacuated immediately. Our things were packed – Genya’s sister had done it for us. My brother gave us a big cart and saw us off from the town. It was 6th July. Genya’s parents and sisters left with our family, Genya with the baby. Abram stayed in town, where he had to form a new volunteer battalion.

We left our home for uncertainty. We went along the bridge [across the Dniestr] to Rybnitsa [about 90 km east of Kishinev] and in a hamlet about 20 kilometers away from Rybnitsa we met Aunt Menya and Uncle Leizer. They were waiting for their step-daughter Haya, who took their cart. We couldn’t even imagine that we saw them for the last time. We were moving very slowly. The infant, who was less than a month old, required a lot of attention. We made frequent stops in Ukrainian villages. I should say that people were very hospitable towards us and treated us very well. We were given warm water in every hut, so we could take a bath and bathe the baby. They gave us milk and bread. Sometimes we had dinner. The food was simple, but it was substantial. I wanted to stay, thinking that the danger wasn’t imminent and we would be able to survive the war in one of those hospitable huts.

We reached Pervomaysk, hoping that we would be able to take Velvl and the family of mother’s sister Tuba. We were told not to go into the town and stopped in some sort of a forest. Genya’s sisters went to the town and found out that Aunt Tuba had already been evacuated. Her neighbors told us that Velvl and Abram who came to Pervomaysk for a visit had left to look for us. In two days, on Friday evening, Abram and Velvl came. Mother was happy in the end – both of her sons were with her.

Abram and Velvl joined us. Abram’s friend, a party member, was with him. They asked to be drafted into the army in the enlistment office in any town we passed by. But Bessarabians were not trusted, and they were told to leave. We reached some station in Donetsk oblast [today Ukraine], gave away our cart and got on a train. It was an echelon with evacuees. It took us a couple of days to get to Rostov oblast, about 1000 kilometers away from home. We were sent to some kolkhoz 15 and given lodging by the family of the chairman of this kolkhoz.

Literally in a couple of days, all men who got off the train were summoned to the military enlistment office. First, they didn’t want my brothers to be in the lines because they were Bessarabians. Abram showed his documents and the Communist Party membership card and managed to convince them that he, Velvl and his friend Iser should be sent to the front. Before leaving, Abram told me that I was responsible for the family. He also hinted that I shouldn’t think of my studies, but go to work to support our elderly parents. My brothers sent a couple of optimistic cards, and in a couple of months we stopped receiving letters from them. We had left the kolkhoz by that time, because the German troops were approaching. However, Genya, her baby, parents and sisters stayed. Her sisters were told to dig the trenches. No matter how many times we insisted, Genya didn’t want to leave her sisters. It turned out that the three of us left – my parents and I. After the war we met two Moldovans, who were with us on the trip and stayed with Genya afterwards. They said that Genya’s father died shortly after our departure, and Genya, her sisters, mother and the baby, Liya, were shot by the Fascists during one of their actions against the Jewish population.

We got to the district center in a cart, and then we went to Stalingrad [today Volgograd in Russia] oblast [today Russia] by train. We came to some sort of a kolkhoz. Tobacco was grown there and my father went to work there. We were given a room with an oven. We were given firewood in the kolkhoz. Our life was getting better. I also began working. First, I was a worker at the sheep farm. There were very few literate people in the village and I became accounting clerk of the firm. I learned how to ride a horse and a two-wheel carriage. I got up at five o’clock in the morning and went to the farm, where the milkmaids milked the ewes, collected the milk and brought it to the delivery point. I didn’t even think of pouring out or sipping the milk, though I was hungry almost all the time. We were given rations in the kolkhoz: oil and wheat. Sometimes they gave us the meat of the dead sheep that had died of disease. We exchanged the things we had taken with us for food products. We lived for half a year in this village. When Stalingrad was being attacked, we moved farther. The chairman of the kolkhoz gave us the best bulls to be harnessed in our cart. We went to Ushakhino, Saratov oblast, and gave the bulls to the local kolkhoz. We still keep that certificate.

In Ushakhino we took the train. It took us a couple of weeks to cross the entire Kazakhstan and reach Kyrgyzstan. We met my cousin Shoilik at one of the stations. He worked for the labor army 16, constructing a canal. Mother found out from him that Motle and his family were in Kyrgyzstan. We saw them much later. For a couple of months we lived in Belovodskoye [today Kyrgyzstan, 4000 km from Kishinev]. Father found a job as a guard. My mother and I knitted kerchiefs and blouses and sold them. It was good for us to take a lot of things from home. Now we were able to exchange them for food. Mother found out where Motle was and we came to him. Motle, his wife and two daughters lived in a village not far from Belovodskoye. They lived at the beet receiving station. My favorite cousin Hayusya died there of meningitis in 1942. She was afflicted with meningitis after typhus fever. I was sent to Frunze [today Bishkek, capital of Kyrgyzstan] to attend the courses of agricultural storekeepers. We were taught how to sort out, grade and pile vegetables. Upon my return I was a forewoman of the vegetable storekeepers.

Then my parents started insisting on my studies. We went to the town of Kant, not far from Bishkek, and rented a room there. Father found a job as a guard at some warehouse. Mother knitted, though it was hard for her, because her eyesight got much worse. I went to school. There were mostly other evacuees in my class. Before I was admitted to the school I had to pass a test. I passed it and was enrolled in the tenth grade. Even though I was two months late, soon I managed to catch up with the rest of the class. I was exceptionally good at sciences: Mathematics and Physics. The physics teacher treated me very well and convinced a Russian teacher to have additional classes with me. Of course, she taught me free-of-charge, because we couldn’t afford to pay her. Thanks to that Russian teacher, I was able to finish the tenth grade with honors. There were a lot of Jews in our class and we were friends. My best friends were Iza Kramarova and Manya Kalmanovich. They also were excellent students. Unfortunately, we didn’t keep in touch after finishing school. I don’t know what happened to them afterwards.

That was the way we lived during the war. Of course, my parents weren’t able to observe Jewish traditions. Father was sorry to have left his tefillin at home because of the rush. He had his tallit and every morning Father prayed no matter where we were. I don’t remember whether my parents fasted on Yom Kippur. Mother said that there was no need for me to fast as I starved for many days in a year.

In spring 1944, when Bessarabia was being liberated, Uncle Motle was called to come back to his Motherland urgently. He left for Soroca, where he became the director of a publishing house. In the fall, when Kishinev was liberated, he sent us a message. In December we returned to Bessarabia. First we came to Rezina. Father’s Moldovan friend Efrem suggested that we live in his house for a while. Although Uncle Motle found an apartment for us in Soroca, mother wasn’t willing to leave Rezina, hoping to find out something about here sons. Nobody knew what happened to Velvl and Abram. One of the guys, who had been drafted with them, said that they were surrounded. He was able to break though, and he didn’t know anything about my brothers. Father came back to his previous work in the enterprise. We were given an apartment.

After the war

Mother insisted on my entering the university. When I was pondering over whether to enter the Teachers’ Training Institute or the vocational school, there was an announcement that the Medical Institute was open in Kishinev. It was my dream. Mother also wanted her children to become doctors. My mother and I went to Kishinev. I submitted the documents. I didn’t have to take entrance exams as I had a secondary school certificate with honors. Only two months later I received the invitation for the classes.

Mother rented a room for me. I shared it with a girl from our town, who also entered the medical institute. The room was dark. We slept on one bed. Nevertheless, the student years were the best period of my life. I had very many friends. I was an excellent student. In spite of the hard life and hunger, which was almost as bad as during the war we managed to save some money to go dancing, to the cinema and theater. My parents moved to Soroca. They didn’t doubt that my brothers had perished. They didn’t know anything about Leibl either because of the Iron Curtain 17, removed only long after the war. In the Iron Curtain period there was no communication between the USSR and the rest of the world.

In the summer of 1949 I was at home on vacation. The lad who was with us, when Mama and I were going to Rezina from Orhei for lyceum holidays, was called Froike in his adolescence. Now he was a handsome young man. Froim liked me very much and called on us rather often. His father, Meyer Berko, had died before the war. His mother Esther and his younger brothers were evacuated. Froim went to the lines in 1941. He met his brother Gersh in the vicinity of Stalingrad. They were even in one squad. Froim went through the entire war. He was in Prague, Budapest and Bucharest. He was in Romania, when the victory was declared.

When the war was over, Froim remained in the army for another year and was demobilized in 1946. His brother decided to stay in the army. Froim entered communications institute in Odessa [today Ukraine]. He had studied for a year or two and got in a car crash. He was afflicted with severe headaches, caused by brain concussion. It was hard for Froim to continue with his studies and he decided to come back to Moldova 18. He was dying to come back to Moldova when we were seeing each other. I had other pals and admirers, but Froim didn’t leave me in peace. He was constantly calling, sending me post-cards. He used to come to see me during weekends. Finally he was transferred to the Physics and Mathematics department of the Kishinev Teachers’ Training Institute. In 1949 Froim proposed to me. My parents lived in Kishinev at that time. Father bought a small apartment in the semi-basement premises. We had a festive dinner on the day of our wedding in my parents’ apartment and on the second day we continued celebrations in the house of my mother-in-law. My husband’s brothers, including Gersh, attended our wedding party.

We moved into our room after the wedding. My husband was transferred to the extramural department. He was hired by professor Sharapov, the leading histologist of the medical institute. My husband turned out to be really talented. He started as a laboratory assistant and gradually became a well-known histologist. Having graduated from the Teachers’ Training Institute he became an extramural student of the Medical Institute. I graduated in 1950. I got a mandatory job assignment 19 in a village. But they didn’t let my husband resign from his work and because of that I was permitted to stay in Kishinev. The same year, in August, I gave birth to a daughter. We named her Anna.

During the first years of our married life we weren’t wealthy; we managed to get by just thanks to my husband’s two jobs. When my baby turned two months old my maternity leave was over, and in accordance with the legislation of that time I was supposed to go back to work. My mother stayed with our little girl. I worked as a psychotherapist. As a matter of fact I changed my working place. The first years of my working experience were marred by the Doctors’ Plot 20, and because of that people were prejudiced against Jewish doctors. There were dreadful articles about the doctors-murderers. It was very unpleasant. In Moldova we didn’t believe what was written in the papers and in the Soviet regime in general. Frankly speaking, I have never come across anti-Semitism.

At the beginning of the 1950s my father finally received the confirmation that my brothers had perished. My father was supposed to have a pension for having lost a bread-winner. Father was paid the pension for several years and bought a two-room apartment with that money. All of us moved into that apartment. We were very friendly. My mother was a homemaker. On Friday she lit the candles just as in the pre-war period. We celebrated major Jewish holidays. Father brought matzah from the synagogue. Unfortunately our happy life didn’t last long. In 1956 mother fainted in the street because of an apoplectic stroke. She was brought to my hospital, but in spite of my efforts and the combined efforts of the entire personnel, she couldn’t be rescued and died.

In 1962 I gave birth to a son and named him Vladimir after my brother Velvl. Froim had to quit his studies after our son was born. He began teaching at an evening school so he could earn more money. Father stayed with us for the whole time, helping me raise my children. In 1969 my father passed away. Froim’s mother died in 1973. My parents and Froim’s mother were buried in the Jewish sector of the city cemetery in accordance with the Jewish rite.

In 1963 there was a joyful event in our family. Leibl finally found us. He had a nice and prosperous life in Belgium. He came to us for a visit. Leibl looked so handsome, as if from another world, which seemed a very thriving world, where there was no war, shooting, evacuation and famine. Leibl was married to a Belgian lady called Mirez. He had a big family. Leibl was a prosperous pharmacist. My brother started to help us with money and came for a visit a couple of times.

In a while we got a good apartment, where I am currently living. We were happy. My husband became a famous histologist. However, he wasn’t able to defend a thesis because he didn’t have a medical education. He collected materials for me to write a dissertation for him, but I physically had no time for that because of my job, work about the house, and raising children. However, I have always been happy, feeling loved and cherished by my husband. Froim was highly appreciated in medical circles. He was invited to attend conferences, hold lectures. He was even offered jobs in the clinics and institutes of such great cities as Moscow and Leningrad.

I used to accompany my husband on his trips. I remember that once a local professor came to the hotel we were staying in Leningrad. He tried to talk my husband into moving to Leningrad. He even asked me to influence my husband. But Froim loved Kishinev very much and really wasn’t willing to leave anywhere. Maybe it was the reason why he was totally against immigration to Israel or the USA, when my friends and relatives were leaving. They left in the 1970s.

Our children were growing up. We paid a lot of attention to them. In summer time we went on vacation together. But Froim refused to go just before leaving. He had to stay as he had urgent scientific issues and theoretical tasks to deal with during his vacation. We were in the Crimea and in the Caucasus. We skied on the Elbrus Mountain, visited capitals of Central Asia, attended museums in Moscow and Leningrad. In one word – we had a full life. We didn’t own a car or a country house, but our life was happy. We met interesting people.

After finishing school my daughter followed in my footsteps. She graduated from the Medical Institute and became a neurologist. Anna was married to a Jew, Grigoriy Sheinfeld, a philologist. However, at first they weren’t happy together in spite of the fact that they had a daughter. They divorced and Grigoriy left for the USA. He started writing heart-breaking letters, asking her to come back to him. Finally, Anna and Ella left for the USA. Grigoriy did the right thing. They are very happy together now. Ella and Grigoriy were wed in a chuppah in one of the synagogues in the state of Alabama.

Vladimir graduated from the Electromechanical Vocational School, entered the institute, but he stopped studying. Now he is working for a private company as a mechanic. He got married and had to quit studies when his baby was born. My son’s wife Svetlana is a Jew, coming from a family, where Jewish traditions are observed. I have two grandsons – the elder Maxim and the younger Alexander. Maxim goes to the Jewish school and Alexander attends a Jewish kindergarten.

In 1989 I went to Belgium to see my brother. He has a wonderful house in Liege. He was a happy old man with a large family: children and grandchildren. Leibl died in 1995.

My husband was ill during the last years of his life. He was feeling the consequences of the old trauma. He died two years ago. Our daughter went back to the USA then, because her husband was seriously ill. I didn’t work at that time, though I worked for 15 years after reaching the age of retirement. I was called upon to work in Hesed 21 as a volunteer. I am currently a volunteer doctor. I have a lot of friends among my husband’s former colleagues and among the Jewish community of Kishinev. I am a member of the Jewish community. I take part in the celebration of the holidays. I celebrate Sabbath. I feel utmost content when I am walking along the street and being greeted by people, with whom I don’t really keep in touch: my former patients. Of course, I don’t remember all of them now. I have been working all my life and restlessly taking care of my family and relatives. In spite of that I can tell you for sure that I have lived a happy life and I am totally entitled to being called a happy woman.

Glossary:

1 Bessarabia

Historical area between the Prut and Dniestr rivers, in the southern part of Odessa region. Bessarabia was part of Russia until the Revolution of 1917. In 1918 it declared itself an independent republic, and later it united with Romania. The Treaty of Paris (1920) recognized the union but the Soviet Union never accepted this. In 1940 Romania was forced to cede Bessarabia and Northern Bukovina to the USSR. The two provinces had almost 4 million inhabitants, mostly Romanians. Although Romania reoccupied part of the territory during World War II the Romanian peace treaty of 1947 confirmed their belonging to the Soviet Union. Today it is part of Moldova.

2 Great Patriotic War

On 22nd June 1941 at 5 o’clock in the morning Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union without declaring war. This was the beginning of the so-called Great Patriotic War. The German blitzkrieg, known as Operation Barbarossa, nearly succeeded in breaking the Soviet Union in the months that followed. Caught unprepared, the Soviet forces lost whole armies and vast quantities of equipment to the German onslaught in the first weeks of the war. By November 1941 the German army had seized the Ukrainian Republic, besieged Leningrad, the Soviet Union's second largest city, and threatened Moscow itself. The war ended for the Soviet Union on 9th May 1945.

3 Annexation of Bessarabia to the Soviet Union

At the end of June 1940 the Soviet Union demanded Romania to withdraw its troops from Bessarabia and to abandon the territory. Romania withdrew its troops and administration in the same month and between 28th June and 3rd July, the Soviets occupied the region. At the same time Romania was obliged to give up Northern Transylvania to Hungary and Southern-Dobrudja to Bulgaria. These territorial losses influenced Romanian politics during World War II to a great extent.

4 Pushkin, Alexandr (1799-1837)

Russian poet and prose writer, among the foremost figures in Russian literature. Pushkin established the modern poetic language of Russia, using Russian history for the basis of many of his works. His masterpiece is Eugene Onegin, a novel in verse about mutually rejected love. The work also contains witty and perceptive descriptions of Russian society of the period. Pushkin died in a duel.

5 Common name

Russified or Russian first names used by Jews in everyday life and adopted in official documents. The Russification of first names was one of the manifestations of the assimilation of Russian Jews at the turn of the 19th and 20th century. In some cases only the spelling and pronunciation of Jewish names was russified (e.g. Isaac instead of Yitskhak; Boris instead of Borukh), while in other cases traditional Jewish names were replaced by similarly sounding Russian names (e.g. Eugenia instead of Ghita; Yury instead of Yuda). When state anti-Semitism intensified in the USSR at the end of the 1940s, most Jewish parents stopped giving their children traditional Jewish names to avoid discrimination.

6 Annexation of Bessarabia to Romania

During the chaotic days of the Soviet Revolution the national assembly of Moldovans convoked to Kishinev decided on 4th December 1917 the proclamation of an independent Moldavian state. In order to impede autonomous aspirations, Russia occupied the Moldovan capital in January 1918. Upon Moldova’s desperate request, the army of neighboring Romania entered Kishinev in the same month recapturing the city from the Bolsheviks. This was the decisive step toward the union with Romania: the Moldovans accepted the annexation without any preliminary condition.

7 Iasi University named after A

Kuza, Romania, was founded in 1860. The Iasi University was an important educational center. Its scientific and educational achievements were highly valued and acknowledged in Romania.

8 Tarbut schools

Elementary, secondary and technical schools maintained by the Hebrew educational and cultural organization called Tarbut. Most Eastern European countries had such schools between the two world wars but there were especially many in Poland. The language of instruction was Hebrew and the education was Zionist oriented.

9 Revisionist Zionism

The movement founded in 1925 and led by Vladimir Jabotinsky advocated the revision of the principles of Political Zionism developed by Theodor Herzl, the father of Zionism. The main goals of the Revisionists was to put pressure on Great Britain for a Jewish statehood on both banks of the Jordan River, a Jewish majority in Palestine, the reestablishment of the Jewish regiments, and military training for the youth. The Revisionist Zionists formed the core of what became the Herut (Freedom) Party after the Israeli independence. This party subsequently became the central component of the Likud Party, the largest right-wing Israeli party since the 1970s.

10 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread of the ideas of communism and involve the worker and peasant youth in building the Soviet Union. The Komsomol also aimed at giving a communist upbringing by involving the worker youth in the political struggle, supplemented by theoretical education. The Komsomol was more popular than the Communist Party because with its aim of education people could accept uninitiated young proletarians, whereas party members had to have at least a minimal political qualification.

11 Keep in touch with relatives abroad

The authorities could arrest an individual corresponding with his/her relatives abroad and charge him/her with espionage, send them to concentration camp or even sentence them to death.

12 Kulaks

In the Soviet Union the majority of wealthy peasants that refused to join collective farms and give their grain and property to Soviet power were called kulaks, declared enemies of the people and exterminated in the 1930s.

13 All-Union pioneer organization

a Communist organization for teenagers between 10 and 15 years old (cf: boy-/ girlscouts in the US). The organization aimed at educating the young generation in accordance with the communist ideals, preparing pioneers to become members of the Komsomol and later the Communist Party. In the Soviet Union, all teenagers were pioneers.

14 Molotov, V

P. (1890-1986): Statesman and member of the Communist Party leadership. From 1939, Minister of Foreign Affairs. On 22nd June 1941 he announced the German attack on the USSR on the radio. He and Eden also worked out the percentages agreement after the war, about Soviet and western spheres of influence in the new Europe.

15 Collective farm (in Russian kolkhoz)

In the Soviet Union the policy of gradual and voluntary collectivization of agriculture was adopted in 1927 to encourage food production while freeing labor and capital for industrial development. In 1929, with only 4 percent of farms in kolkhozes, Stalin ordered the confiscation of peasants' land, tools, and animals; the kolkhoz replaced the family farm.

16 Labor army

it was made up of men of call-up age not trusted to carry firearms by the Soviet authorities. Such people were those living on the territories annexed by the USSR in 1940 (Eastern Poland, the Baltic States, parts of Karelia, Bessarabia and northern Bukovina) as well as ethnic Germans living in the Soviet Union proper. The labor army was employed for carrying out tough work, in the woods or in mines. During the first winter of the war, 30 percent of those drafted into the labor army died of starvation and hard work. The number of people in the labor army decreased sharply when the larger part of its contingent was transferred to the national Estonian, Latvian, and Lithuanian Corps, created at the beginning of 1942. The remaining labor detachments were maintained up until the end of the war.

17 Iron Curtain

A term popularized by Sir Winston Churchill in a speech in 1946. He used it to designate the Soviet Union’s consolidation of its grip over Eastern Europe. The phrase denoted the separation of East and West during the Cold War, which placed the totalitarian states of the Soviet bloc behind an ‘Iron Curtain’. The fall of the Iron Curtain corresponds to the period of perestroika in the former Soviet Union, the reunification of Germany, and the democratization of Eastern Europe beginning in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

18 Moldova

Historic region between the Eastern Carpathians, the Dniestr River and the Black Sea, also a contemporary state, bordering with Romania and Ukraine. Moldova was first mentioned after the end of the Mongol invasion in 14th century scripts as Eastern marquisate of the Hungarian Kingdom. For a long time, the Principality of Moldova was tributary of either Poland or Hungary until the Ottoman Empire took possession of it in 1512. The Sultans ruled Moldova indirectly by appointing the Prince of Moldova to govern the vassal principality. These were Moldovan boyars until the early 18th century and Greek (Phanariot) ones after. In 1812 Tsar Alexander I occupied the eastern part of Moldova (between the Prut and the Dniestr river and the Black Sea) and attached it to its Empire under the name of Bessarabia. In 1859 the remaining part of Moldova merged with Wallachia. In 1862 the new country was called Romania, which was finally internationally recognized at the Treaty of Berlin in 1878. Bessarabia united with Romania after World War I, and was recaptured by the Soviet Union in 1940. The Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic gained independence after the break up of the Soviet Union in 1991 and is now called Moldovan Republic (Republica Moldova).

19 Mandatory job assignment in the USSR

Graduates of higher educational institutions had to complete a mandatory 2-year job assignment issued by the institution from which they graduated. After finishing this assignment young people were allowed to get employment at their discretion in any town or organization.

20 Doctors’ Plot

The Doctors’ Plot was an alleged conspiracy of a group of Moscow doctors to murder leading government and party officials. In January 1953, the Soviet press reported that nine doctors, six of whom were Jewish, had been arrested and confessed their guilt. As Stalin died in March 1953, the trial never took place. The official paper of the Party, the Pravda, later announced that the charges against the doctors were false and their confessions obtained by torture. This case was one of the worst anti-Semitic incidents during Stalin’s reign. In his secret speech at the Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 Khrushchev stated that Stalin wanted to use the Plot to purge the top Soviet leadership.

21 Hesed

Meaning care and mercy in Hebrew, Hesed stands for the charity organization founded by Amos Avgar in the early 20th century. Supported by Claims Conference and Joint Hesed helps for Jews in need to have a decent life despite hard economic conditions and encourages development of their self-identity. Hesed provides a number of services aimed at supporting the needs of all, and particularly elderly members of the society. The major social services include: work in the center facilities (information, advertisement of the center activities, foreign ties and free lease of medical equipment); services at homes (care and help at home, food products delivery, delivery of hot meals, minor repairs); work in the community (clubs, meals together, day-time polyclinic, medical and legal consultations); service for volunteers (training programs). The Hesed centers have inspired a real revolution in the Jewish life in the Former Soviet Union countries. People have seen and sensed the rebirth of the Jewish traditions of humanism. Currently over eighty Hesed centers exist in the FSU countries. Their activities cover the Jewish population of over eight hundred settlements.

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