Travel

My grandpa on my father’s side was named Julius Frey. He was immensely understanding, and gave me what he could, that is in a spiritual sense. Instead of fairy-tales he would tell me Bible stories, in a very interesting fashion. I was capable of sitting and listening to him for hours on end. He was born on 1st April 1866 in Dolni Kounice, near Brno. He graduated from high school, but where exactly I don’t know. His mother tongue was Czech together with German, because he came from Brno. In and around Brno, German was spoken a lot. He spoke only Czech with me, but you could tell that his foundations were German. But he wasn’t a German, though he had a German name. This is because Josef II 3 gave Jews various rights, and in exchange they had to take various German names. And I’ve heard that the name Frey or Frei perhaps meant free, that he wasn’t of some, let’s say, subservient standing.

I have no idea when he left Dolni Kounice to go work, no one ever told me that. Neither did I ever ask about it, of course. He worked for the railway, as a stationmaster, and probably for no one else. He worked in various places, amongst them also in Pardubice, where my father, Viktor Frey, was born, in Dobrovice near Mlada Boleslav and for sure somewhere else as well, but I don’t remember any more. Their housekeeper Marie told me it all, but I can’t remember. Then with my grandma Hermina, nee Breitenfeldova, he moved to Litomysl to retire. Because my grandma was originally from Litomysl, and at that time her mother and brother still lived there. Her family owned a quite prominent apartment building there, a corner building in Renaissance style across from City Hall, so in the middle of the square. Their living room was located where at one time Jirasek’s Father German President lived. [German President (1780–1895): a seminary school teacher, familiar from ‘A Philosophical History’ by Alois Jirasek.] What’s more, it was the only room in the entire building that had a cross-vaulted ceiling. Several generations of my grandmother’s ancestors lived in that building. But at that time my mother’s sister Marie [Sgallova, nee Fingerova] was also getting married, and my mother’s father, Rudolf Finger, had a two-family house built for them, a villa. And that’s where my mother and her sister lived, both of them with their families.

As I’ve said, my grandma and grandpa had a housekeeper, she was named Marie Kucerova. You see, my grandmother had a serious case of diabetes, and so wasn’t able to take care of things very much. The housekeeper, she was my savior of sorts, because after the war she took care of me, and told me a lot about my father, who had died in a concentration camp. [The interviewee’s father actually died in Terezin ghetto.] My parent’s family also had a servant. Apparently we had had several of them, but I remember only Anca. She had this little room at our place. My mother took care of me, the servants mostly took care of housecleaning and the laundry. My mother also cooked.

Whether my grandfather on my father’s side was in the army, I can’t say, because I remember my grandpa on my father’s side only in a railway uniform. That is, I remember photos of him in a railway uniform. But at least as far as I can remember, no one talked about the war there. But I have this feeling that he was in World War I. My mother’s father was in it for sure. My grandpa died during World War II, on 28th April 1943 in Terezin, where he had been taken on the Litomysl transport on 2nd December 1942. He died of old age and due to his prostate, which was of course badly medically treated.

My grandfather was one of six siblings. There were, I think, five brothers and one sister, Anna. She never married, and stayed in Dolni Kounice near Brno in that family cottage of theirs. It was this little cottage that had one fancy room – this big, perhaps somewhat better-furnished room – then one small room and a scullery. It wasn’t a very big place, though they did have a beautiful apricot orchard. And there in those cramped quarters my grandpa’s parents raised six children. I don’t know any more than that about my grandpa’s parents, only that Grandpa’s father reputedly made a living by lending money.

I never asked about Anna Frey’s education or about her work, and as far as I can remember, no one ever talked about it. She lived alone in Dolni Kounice, childless. During the year she would go and visit Grandma and Grandpa and we used to go stay with her during summer vacation. It was our favorite place for holidays. Because we wouldn’t have all fit in there, we used to stay in a nearby hotel. Anna was this typical old maid, but was very kind. In that fancy room she had a musical picture, which she would play for me when I was very good. What was on it, I don’t know, it was simply some picture, apparently you would wind it up and then it would play.

I also remember that we used to go swimming in a nearby river, and that I used to play there with the local children, Saturday or not. [Editor’s note: Jewish religious law forbids during Saturday, the Sabbath, a fundamental 39 activities that are included in the Talmud, and other activities that stem from them. Among them belongs also swimming.] And because my father already owned a car in those days, he would sometimes load us up and take us to Brno. Anna died in Terezin, but I can’t tell you off the top of my head when, one could find that out in the Terezin Memorial Book.

My grandpa’s youngest brother was Josef, who lived in Vienna – it’s not far from Brno, evidently he went there to find work and then stayed there. His son Michael, by the way, lives in Sweden to this day. I don’t know when Josef was born, and there’s no way I’ll find out now. But I do remember that he died on my grandpa’s birthday, 1st April. But I also don’t know the year, evidently at the beginning of the war or right before it began. What sort of work he had in Vienna, that I don’t know, I never met him. Josef was married, I don’t know his wife’s name, I only know that she was born in Auschwitz, apparently it used to be quite a decent little town in Poland. They had two sons together, one, who’s since died, was around the same age as my mother, Marketa Fingerova – she was born in 1909 – and was named Eli, evidently as in Elias. The younger one, who was born in 1922, is named Michael and lives in Sweden. He got there in a very interesting fashion. My grandfather’s brother Josef somehow got mixed up in politics and when the Schuschnigg 4 affair in Vienna took place, which was some sort of political revolution, he somehow paid the price for that. But those are just childhood memories, after the war no one could tell me about it any longer.

Josef soon became a widower. He was left alone with two sons, and in the end committed suicide. His older son Eli emigrated, evidently to Palestine. They sent the younger one, who was 15 at the time, to Litomysl to stay with his grandfather and grandmother. The family then simply decided, that to secure his life and livelihood, they’ll send him to the Palestine, to be with his brother. However he didn’t meet up with his brother during the entire time of the war – even though they were both looking for each other, they didn’t find each other. Even though they were both in the same army, the English army, and both of them fought at Tobruk 5. It wasn’t until the war ended, that Michl – that’s how we called Michael – came to some army office on army business, but where it was I don’t know, and there he saw his brother. It wasn’t until then that they first met. Michael then met his wife-to-be at some railway station; her parents had saved her by sending her to Sweden. How it exactly continued I don’t know. I think that they both returned to Palestine, apparently to her family. But then they had two children there and one of the children somehow couldn’t stand the climate, so due to the fact that she was already used to living in Sweden, they moved there. There Michl worked at a newspaper, but I think that it’s more likely that he did some sort of better type of work. I think in administration.

Another of Grandpa’s brothers, Arnold, also lived in Vienna. Him I remember from Terezin, he and his wife were very kind to me there. What he did in Vienna, I don’t know, but I think that he didn’t make it that far there. Back then he went to Terezin on the Vienna transport along with his wife. I don’t know anything at all about her, not even her name, only that she was very kind. I really didn’t get to know them until when they were going to visit my father at the hospital, when my father’s life was ending. I think that she was Austrian, because they spoke only German with her. I don’t even know if they had any children. His wife saved a bit of bread and some coffee grounds or something like that, and out of that they made me for my birthday – well, not a cake, but this sweet snack. Which made me very happy! So he was my favorite.

Then there was one more brother, who lived in Prague. But what his name was, I don’t know. We didn’t see the Prague relatives much, only once in a while, when we were in Prague, we’d visit them. Whether they had ever been to Litomysl, that I don’t know. I think that he was a merchant and that he had a daughter or perhaps two daughters, who had emigrated to somewhere in Scotland. But I don’t know their names, I know nothing of their fates. They were probably in Terezin as well, but I really don’t know anything about them. And I think that my grandpa had one more brother, but I don’t know anything at all about him.

My grandmother on my father’s side was named Hermina, nee Breitenfeldova. She was born on 12th September 1875 in Litomysl. She died on 15th December 1943 in Auschwitz, where she went on the December transport. My grandma was very kind, but was a bit of a lackluster type of person. I’ve got the impression that I get it from her. And as opposed to my grandpa, she didn’t know how to tell stories and fairy-tales. I don’t know what sort of education she had, and as far as work goes, she was probably a housewife. Later, though, she ran Uncle Karel’s, her unmarried brother’s, textile store in Litomysl for him. You see, Uncle Karel was a bohemian, a singer, and devoted himself more to singing than to business. So my father’s mother was basically a businesswoman, though a bad businesswoman. She gave things to people on credit and never wanted them to pay it off. She’d say, ‘You’ll give it to me when you have it.’ Well, I think that for the most part they never did give it to her.

That textile store, as I’ve said, belonged to her brother Karel, but he didn’t devote himself to it very much. It wasn’t proper for a child from a good family to devote himself to professional singing. So at least for appearances’ sake, he was a businessman – those were the mores of those days – but in reality he was a member and evidently a soloist in the Vlastimil choir, which performed at the Litomysl Theater and likely also elsewhere, but that I don’t know. Uncle Karel died when I was eight, so still before the war, in 1938. He also sang the role of the jail warden in Dalibor [opera by Bedrich Smetana], when the National Theater performed Dalibor in Litomysl. So one could say that he was a good singer, supposedly he was.

As far as Judaism goes, our family, especially on my father’s side, was religiously inclined, believers. Perhaps not Orthodox [see Orthodox communities] 6, the way it’s now propagated here [in Prague], which I don’t really like. For the most part they were assimilated Jews, who though practiced their religion.

My grandpa was very religious and so were his siblings. For example, his sister Anna, the one that lived in Kounice near Brno, was very particular about observing holidays and all of these things, and was even very proud of the fact that our family came from the Kohanim lineage. [Editor’s note: priests, members of the Levi tribe, descendants of Aaron and his sons, who were entrusted with the performance of holy rituals in the Tent of Meeting and the Temple, Hebrew Kohen, Kohanim.] Once she said to me, ‘Eva dear, remember that you’re a princess.’ That’s the only thing I remember her telling me. My father’s brother was also very devout. Because he didn’t have his own family, he celebrated the holidays with us. My grandpa’s family was in general quite religiously inclined, at his parents’ place, the ones in Kounice near Brno, they as far as I know kept kosher and apparently also had two sets of dishes [see Kashrut in eating habits] 7. But otherwise they didn’t visibly, by how they dressed, differ from the non-Jewish population, even they, though religious, were very assimilated. What’s more, the kippah wasn’t perhaps even worn back then yet, to be sure though, a hat, that was of course worn at all times.

My grandma and grandpa never picked their friends only from among Jews. What’s more, my very religious grandfather played tarot every Saturday afternoon with the catechist Mr. Letfus. Certainly one didn’t try to convince the other of anything. You know the joke: The priest says to the rabbi, ‘When will you finally try a bit of pork?’ And he says, ‘At your wedding.’

My mother’s family, on the other hand, practiced Judaism only half-heartedly. I’d say that my grandma and grandpa on my mother’s side attended the synagogue for social reasons; at their place we never celebrated holidays. As far as I know, they didn’t even ever light candles for Sabbath. We never ever discussed God with them, either. And I think that my grandma’s brother Karel wasn’t very religiously inclined either. But in his case I can’t really say one way or the other. My mother, herself, was less religious than my father. For example she would easily let me write on Saturday [Jewish religious law forbids during Saturday, the Sabbath, a fundamental 39 activities that are included in the Talmud, and other activities that stem from them. Among them belongs also writing, for example]. She took part in all religious rituals more from a sense of moral responsibility, and not so much out of belief. Her sister Marie and her husband also attended the synagogue more for social reasons, so as not to demean themselves socially. I even remember that my uncle, Otto Sgall, once got very upset when they called him to the Torah. Apparently he didn’t want or know how to read the Torah, and didn’t want to demean himself, because he as a factory owner felt himself to be a part of the upper crust. He was, you see, the owner of a wholesale textile business.

My grandfather on my mother’s side was named Rudolf Finger. He was born on 26th February 1877 in Kozolupy in the Pilsen region. His mother tongue was German, because he was from around Pilsen. There they used to speak German. But likely they considered themselves to be Czechs. I’ve got this impression that during the 1929 or 1930 census [the 1930 census] he identified himself as being of Czech nationality. With me he always spoke Czech. He was the only one about whom I know for certain that he fought in World War I, but I have no clue as to where or when, or any other details. As opposed to my father’s father, who was a bureaucrat body and soul, my grandfather was body and soul a businessman. He was a trained merchant, kitchen goods and hardware, and he made a living as storekeeper – he had a hardware store. For a time he lived in Ceska Lipa, where my mother and her siblings were born. Probably back then there was some business opportunity there. Not long after, though, they moved back to Litomysl. I don’t know whether they didn’t do well in Ceska Lipa, or why, but for some reason they simply weren’t happy there. In any case they moved long before he retired, because he still had the store in Litomysl up to the beginning of the war, before they confiscated it. When World War II broke out, grandma and grandpa went on the September [1943] transport to Terezin, at least I think so. Well, and they both ended up in Auschwitz on 7th March 1944.

Grandpa Rudolf had several siblings. I know that there was some Aunt Emily and definitely someone else, but they lived all the way over in the Pilsen region, which was quite far.

My grandmother on my mother’s side was named Irma Fingerova, nee Ledererova. She was born on 23rd May 1884 and died together with my grandpa in Auschwitz on that day of 7th March 1944. She was likely born in Litomysl, because that branch of the family had deep roots there. On the distaff side. Her mother tongue was Czech; there everyone spoke Czech, even though they of course all knew German. She lived in Litomysl the entire time, except for those several years in Ceska Lipa, which she spent there with her husband and where my mother was born.

My grandma had been educated at a convent, even though she was of course also Jewish. She lost her father early on, you see, and my great-grandmother had to take care of her and another five children together with her childless sister. So they put Irma, as the oldest daughter, into a convent to be brought up. I don’t know where, I only know that there she learned various beautiful handiworks and homemaking. She knitted, embroidered, crocheted, made lacework and I don’t know what else. Whether or not they tried to instill something of Christianity in her, I have no clue, I wasn’t interested in that back then. By the way, this grandma of mine was very, very intelligent and she had been seeing some doctor. But back then she wasn’t allowed to marry him, because his mother wouldn’t allow him to marry my grandmother: for my grandma was from a quite poor family and didn’t get anything as a dowry. So she basically married my grandfather by virtue of necessity.

My grandfather was very strict and authoritarian, I think that something of the soldier remained in him, and my grandmother basically bore with him. She was among other things also an amazing psychologist. I remember one time, when sometime at the beginning of the war the parents of my cousin Milan Sgall had to go take care of some visa or other matters, apparently to Prague. Basically, when Milan had his birthday on 5th May, they weren’t there. Grandma Irma resolved the situation by taking him to a store and buying him something, some gift, but what I don’t know any more. So that I wouldn’t feel sorry for myself, she bought me some trifle as well. However my grandpa was very frugal and took my grandma to task for buying me something when it wasn’t my birthday. I think that this accurately portrays the mentality of those two people.

As I’ve said, Grandma Irma came from a family of six children, of which she was the oldest. She had two brothers, Jan and Karel, and three sisters, Zdenka [affectionate for Zdena], Terezie and Olga. All of them died in Auschwitz, you could find out the dates in the Terezin Memorial Book.

Uncle Jenik – that’s what they called him, my mother’s brother Jan was Jenda and Grandma’s brother Jan was Jenik – was an invalid from World War I. He and his wife Ruzena had a clothing store in Litomysl. They were however childless. But I don’t remember them very much, although in Litomysl we lived along the same arcade, and visited each other. Maybe we even went on holidays together, for there were good, strong relations in that family.

Aunt Zdenka was married, but childless. They used to say something about that her husband – Dezso Adler, a Hungarian – was infected, so they couldn’t have children.

The youngest son was Uncle Karel, they used to call him Karilek. He lived with his sister Olga – she was the youngest sister – in Zamberk, where they had some sort of textile factory. They actually lived on the same piece of property in adjacent buildings. Uncle Karel was married and had a son, Frantisek, who was much younger than I. They called him Ata. Well, and Olga had three daughters – Vlasta, Vera and Eva. Vlasta ended up in Auschwitz with her little boy, Petricek. And Vera and Eva survived, what’s more, in a very curious fashion.

Back then Vera was married, but I don’t know any more to who. Eva was single, but met a boy by the name of Freda, or Alfred. They all went to Terezin together. In Terezin Eva married that Freda and became pregnant. Vera’s husband left for Auschwitz and likely also died there. Vera followed him but never saw him again. Freda and Eva also later went to Auschwitz, she wanted to be with him. But when she got there, Mengele could see that she was pregnant and immediately sent her to the other side of the chimney, if you know this terminology, or into the gas. Eva was physically very strong, so she avoided the ‘chimney’ and by complete chance got together with Vera, who was already there.

Then they were transferred – they were five girls in all – to the Merzdorf labor camp. [Editor’s note: in Polish Marciszow, a town in Lower Silesia. During World War II one of the branches of the Gross Rosen concentration camp was located there. The camp was liberated on 8th May 1945.] Right before she had her little boy, Tomik – on 20th March 1945 – Mengele came to Merzdorf and asked her, ‘Why didn’t you admit that you were pregnant?’ And she answered, ‘I didn’t know it.’ But, of course, she knew. Apparently several children were born in Merzdorf, and none of them survived – except for that Tomik. When he was born, each of those five girls tore off a piece of her dress and they wrapped him in it. He was born somewhere in a bathroom or pigsty, something like that, I don’t exactly know any more.

When the war ended, the Germans left and the Red Army arrived there. The girls, however, were afraid of them, so she took the little boy and walked all day, until in the evening she came to some farm, to some abandoned building. Apparently on the ground floor there was nothing, and upstairs on the first floor there was a baby carriage with baby clothing. Well, that wasn’t even a coincidence; that was more like a miracle. So they immediately dressed the little boy and set off again with the carriage in the direction of home. When they got all the way to Zamberk, the communists were already in power there, and they didn’t even want to let them back into their original apartment house, instead they moved them into this little bungalow. By coincidence Eva’s husband Freda had also returned, along with his brother Egon, who was single, and their mother. Vera already knew that her husband wasn’t going to return, she and Egon fell in love with each other, and got married.

They had horrible problems with the communists, it was quite tense. They cut off their water, they cut off their telephone and apparently also decided that as the child had actually been born in Germany [when Tomik was born, Merzdorf was part of the German Reich], that he was a German citizen, so it was necessary to expel him [see Forced displacement of Germans] 8. It cost them a lot of effort before they got him out of that somehow. In the meantime, in 1947, Eva had another son, Petr. Well, in the end they finally decided that they wanted to go somewhere as far as possible from our country. They emigrated first, to Australia, while their grandmother, Anna Jelinkova, lived for a time with us. Then she left to be with them. By the way, both girls, Eva and Vera, were already pregnant when they left for Australia, and each one of them then had one more child in Australia. Except for Freda, they all live in Australia to this day, close to Melbourne. At least I hope so, I haven’t had any news from them for a long time now. And Tomik did a PhD in science, and started a family in Australia.

My grandma’s last sister was Terezie, they used to call her Terusza. Terusza was married twice, as the first time she was widowed. But I know nothing about her husbands. From her first marriage she had a daughter, Lily, and from the second a son, Arne. All of them stayed in Auschwitz.

My mother and father lived from childhood in the same arcade, or better on the same side of the arcade which in Litomysl they call an ‘underchamber.’ My mother and my father met when my mother was five and my father 13. My mother used to go play in the store next door with a little girl who had a brother, who was friends with my father. She was Anicka Jezkova, he Frantisek. The Jezeks had a bakery and my mother played with Anicka, who was hunchbacked, on the rolling-boards. Well, and those young guys, young men, right, already 13 years old, came by, and wanted to play at being soldiers on the rolling-boards. No one dared to be nasty to Anicka, the poor hunchbacked thing, and so my father got to know my mother with the words: ‘Get down from that rolling-board, you little fucker.’ My mother probably wasn’t far from replying, because she was always very offhand. But I’ve never heard from anyone what her answer was. By the way, my father grew up to be a very refined man.

In 1928, I think, my grandpa and father went to Vienna to celebrate seder with that uncle Josef. And because both families had for a long time, for whole generations, been close, they also invited my mother and her father. Well, and in the middle of the celebration, or maybe at its end, I don’t know exactly, my father ceremoniously stood up and asked my mother’s father for my mother’s hand. I think that my mother was taken aback, but that she had absolutely no objections to it.

What I, however, can’t understand, is that their wedding was at the district government office in Litomysl, so only a civil one, which likely didn’t so much bother my mother, because she wasn’t as religiously inclined as my father. Why they were married like this, that’s something I always wanted to ask, but never got around to, which I regret to this day. They were married in May 1929, and my mother didn’t even have a white dress. They had a big betrothal, but an utterly small wedding. And after the wedding my father’s mother apparently said, ‘And now you’re ours, and you’re going to come over for lunch.’ So, even the wedding banquet was at my father’s parents’. Maybe because the betrothal was so ‘festive,’ the wedding was supposed to be only an official confirmation. But that I really don’t know.

As far as disposition goes, my father was always very democratic. My mother had to take care of me daily from morning to evening, so she had to be stricter, right? She didn’t hesitate to give me a slap now and again, while my father was more dear to me, because he sometimes came home only for the weekend. And then he would very much devote himself to me. I only got one slap from him, and that only when I was already very unruly and tore his shirt on him.

My father liked to take pictures – I’ve inherited that from him – my mother, I think, didn’t concern herself with photography. I also think that I, the same as they, like to travel. Otherwise I always admired my father’s wise, serene disposition, while my mother was rather more hot-tempered, which I didn’t like, I had a hard time with it. Otherwise they were both very sociable, went to the movies, theaters, to concerts and generally out into society. And society used to come to our place. We had a lot of visits. My mother was a good cook, so although usually we lived modestly, when visitors came, she would always provide a feast as it should be. They never made any distinction whether someone was a Jew or not, that’s not how it was. My father had, I think, mainly intellectual friends, for example a chief judge, or dentist, lawyer. My mother adapted, and I think with relish. My grandma and grandpa, who lived in that house on the square, also visited us often. It wasn’t all that far from us. Litomysl isn’t a big town, and at that time had about five thousand people. [Editor’s note: according to the Czech Statistics Office, the population of Litomysl during the 1921 census was 8,737, and in 1930 it was 8,638.] And perhaps even more often we’d go to their place.

My father was named Viktor Frey. He was born on 10th April 1901 in Pardubice, and died on 23rd June 1944 in Terezin. He had two university degrees: he was an engineer and had a PhD in Technical Sciences. He graduated from the Faculty of Mechanical Engineering in Prague. His mother tongue was Czech. I think that my father sympathized with the Social Democrats, with the rightist part. He wasn’t a member, but had a very strong social conscience. And he was a member of an association of engineers and architects called the SIA. Otherwise, as far as I know, he wasn’t a member of any other organizations or clubs, and neither was anyone else in the family.

My father lived wherever they transferred his father, who, as I’ve said, worked for the railway. That housekeeper was already with my father’s parents during his childhood, and she used to also tell me how it was when he was growing up, but I don’t remember anything concretely. He was physically quite awkward, so he probably didn’t play soccer, I don’t know. Well, but he for sure used to play with his friend on the baker’s rolling-boards. Otherwise he then devoted himself to his studies and science. I think that he graduated from high school in Litomysl.

He was never in the army, and this was due to health reasons: he had flat feet. After graduating from university, he at first worked as an assistant at a technical school [Czech Technical University in Prague], because he had done very well and graduated very early. But when he decided to get married, he tried to find some better-paying position. And so he transferred to Skoda 9 in Pilsen. There he worked as a mechanical engineer. Apparently he had some sort of project that he wanted to patent, and they wanted to buy it from him. But my father didn’t want to sell it to them, so they got angry at him and fired him, whereupon my father looked for work for about six weeks. After six weeks someone found him a job in a steel works by the name of Isteg, in Most – apparently it doesn’t exist any more. There he represented the steel works for the entire country, except for Prague, for which there was a separate representative.

At his work my father had the use of a company car, so we made plentiful use of it and used to go on various trips. Not only to Brno, but also to Zamberk and so on, we varied it a lot. Or we’d go on various hiking trips in the immediate region with my father’s friends. On those occasions we’d always go to this special pub and there my parents would order beer and Olomouc ‘stinky’ cheese. But of course we also went and visited historical landmarks. We also traveled abroad, to Crikvenica, Yugoslavia [the town of Crikvenica is located in Croatia today]. That was in 1936. I remember that I learned to swim there – what’s more I was by the sea for the first time – and that I got tonsillitis there. And that I wanted to make clothes for my dolls and my mother had only a pair of manicure scissors with her. After the war I started devoting myself to scouting and camping, so I went on trips as an adult as well. But as a child I was never at any summer camp.

My father worked at Isteg until the annexation of the Sudetenland 10. But because my father didn’t want me to have to breathe the bad air in Most, we moved to be with our family in Litomysl. [Editor’s note: Most used to be a town with a high concentration of heavy industry and therefore with a bad environment.] So he then commuted to Most, alternatively he communicated with them by phone, due to the fact that he actually worked all over the entire country. We lived in Litomysl up until the transport to Terezin. When the war began, my father, because he was of Jewish origin, had to work as only a laborer. But back then one of his friends, who had a chopping-machine factory, gave him a job. So back then he officially worked there as a laborer, but in reality he designed those chopping-machines for him. In time the president of the Jewish community in Litomysl died, and they named, or elected, that I don’t know exactly, my father as the president of the Litomysl community. And he stayed there until the deportation.

My name is Eva Duskova, nee Freyova, and I was born in Pilsen on 22nd March 1930. Date of death still unknown. I have no siblings; I had only that one cousin Milan, who lived in the same house as I. But the fact that I was an only child was actually lucky for me, because [otherwise] I wouldn’t have escaped the gas. Because in Auschwitz there was this rule, that whoever is older than 16 or at least 16 and at most 45, can volunteer for heavy labor. And the younger and older ones have to go into the gas chambers.

For the first four years I lived in Pilsen, but then we moved to Litomysl. I can say that I lived there with both parents, because my father only commuted to Most. In Litomysl I finished the first four grades, but then I couldn’t attend school any more [because of the Anti-Jewish laws in the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia] 14. I returned to it only after the war. I remember my first day of school. I went to the first grade with my girlfriend Anita Frankova, nee Fisherova. We had known each other since the age of four, because our parents were friends. What’s more, we were actually very distantly related. To be specific, Anita’s grandpa and my great-grandmother’s sister were married. In fact back then we insisted on sitting next to each other in school. And in the end we did. Of course, right the next day we were separated for misbehaving. We were simply talking to each other. What the teacher was saying wasn’t as interesting. But I very much looked forward to school, I was hungry for knowledge. The first day Anita and I were accompanied by our fathers. I know that the gentlemen in the back behind the desks stood beside each other, and I think that they were quite amused. I think that our fathers took it as this personal prerogative. Whether there were mothers too, that I don’t remember. Very early on I went to school unaccompanied, because it was a short ways off, without any sort of danger along the way.

Anita and I were in the same class for three years, I guess. Then the Fischers moved to Prague, because they had this feeling that they’d somehow be more hidden in Prague, or protected, while we stayed in Litomysl. That was probably in 1938. Already back then they apparently had a certain feeling of danger, but why, that I didn’t ask them. It didn’t interest me back then. I only know that people said that they had the feeling that in Prague they won’t stick out so much. But then in Prague Anita’s father soon had a heart attack, I think, or something, and died – still before the war.

Jewish history in Litomysl

The deportation of Litomysl Jews took place on 3rd December 1942, first to Pardubice, and on 5th December from Pardubice to Terezin. However, as my father was the president of the Jewish community, they had to somehow shut it all down there, and so he and his immediate family, i.e. my mother and I, stayed in Litomysl for another three days. We didn’t leave for Pardubice until 6th December, and from Pardubice for Terezin on 6th December with people from Pardubice. Otherwise Litomysl left with people from the countryside around Pardubice.

As I’ve said, Father died in Terezin. My father was quite a heavy smoker, and so didn’t have a very resistant constitution. In Terezin he got into technical services, and when there was a so-called ‘Kasernensperre,’ meaning leaving the barracks was forbidden, he could walk outside, about the ghetto, and used those service rounds to visit his father and me. For at that time I was often ill, tonsillitis and so on, and his father was actually also nearing his end. Back then my father neglected the fact that he had the flu, and when Grandpa died, he himself took to his bed with the flu. But there was no medicine and his organism wasn’t resistant enough. Then he got pleurisy and after fourteen months he died of rapid tuberculosis.

My father had a three years younger brother, Frantisek, who worked as a customs inspector at the Frydek-Mistek station. During the war, however, my uncle moved to Litomysl. He devoted himself to me very much, among other things he taught me to ride a bicycle, and so we would ride together around the surrounding villages, as far as was allowed [the given limitation applied only to Jews]. But no one else rode with us. I had a bike from the age of eight. Back then we perhaps even took some longer routes, but on my own I didn’t go that far. I rode on a bike for a long time, but more in Litomysl, in Prague not at all. Always when I arrived in Litomysl in the summer, in the morning I helped Mother, after lunch Mother took a nap and I set out by bicycle to the swimming pool. I bathed, dried myself off and rode back again. Litomysl doesn’t have a public transport system, there people rode bikes a lot.

In Prague only my children ride bikes, only they had bikes here anyways. My son Petr rides his bike to this day, with his children too. Before he used to go on trips, even longer ones, with his wife. My daughter Hana doesn’t ride anymore these days, and neither do I, due to a leg injury.

My uncle was single, but it was said that he was platonically in love with my mother, and perhaps said that he would get married only if he found a girl like my mother. But that couldn’t happen any more, because my uncle apparently left on the first transport from Terezin to Auschwitz and there he probably remained.

My mother was named Marketa Fingerova. She was born in Ceska Lipa on 27th April 1909 and died in Litomysl on 10th October 1992. So she lived to the age of 83, which actually isn’t that much, because our family was long-lived. Her mother tongue was Czech.

Apparently they however moved from Ceska Lipa to Litomysl very early on, because they were already there when my mother started attending school. She then lived for some time with my father in Pilsen, before they moved back to Litomysl, so that I wouldn’t grow up in such bad environmental conditions as those in Most.

My mother went to ‘family’ school, where she studied, as one would say, women’s work: cooking, sewing, baking, and basic household economics. Today, such schools have a three-year program, I think. I even have this feeling that at one time they were four-year programs with a diploma. But my mother had a one-year course. Back then it wasn’t a complete high school education. She finished ‘kvarta’ [fourth of eight years of school] and then went to that family school. And then she went to the Sudetenland, to Teplice-Sanov, to study German. There she lived with some family. She never had a job anywhere, she was a housewife.

During the war she was also in Terezin, our whole family went there on that day of 6th December 1942. Because my father was the president of the Jewish community, we were somehow automatically protected during the course of his life in Terezin. But when on 23rd June 1944 he died, we immediately left on the earliest transport, the October one, to Auschwitz. We left Terezin on 12th October, and arrived in Auschwitz on 14th October. I remember that we were walking in rows of five and that coming towards us came walking – one of the lucky chances in my life – some German soldier, who told my mother to give him that wedding ring that she had on her finger. So she gave it to him, and in exchange he advised us, ‘Remember, that you’re older than 16 and less than 45, and volunteer for heavy labor.’ My mother had my father’s winter coat with her, so she threw it on me, and when we went in front of Mengele, I looked somewhat huskier. [Editor’s note: What the interviewee means is that Mengele selected them himself. This is a frequent statement, although they did not know anything about Mengele at the time, and it is not even sure that it was him.] At that time I was only 14. However I do know two sisters who then went with us to the work camp, the younger one was twelve at the time and she also managed it.

We were in Auschwitz for fourteen days. On 28th October we had the feeling that we’d be going into the gas chamber, but we were lucky and we went on to Austria, to a branch of Mauthausen that was named Lenzing [a women’s sub-camp of Mauthausen that provided workers for the textile industry] in Upper Austria. And there we stayed until liberation. However when exactly we were liberated, that’s an example of how memories differ. I was and still am convinced that we were liberated on 6th May 1945 by the American army. My friends, two sisters with whom we had gone there at the same time back then, are convinced that we were liberated on 4th May. But I’m convinced I’m right. And so are they.

What impressions do I have from wartime? I remember that during the [September 1938] mobilization 15, my father’s brother, my Uncle Frantisek, returned very downhearted when they called the mobilization off. Then I remember my father saying – at that time he was already president of the Jewish community – that I’m not allowed to play with the local girls. By the way, in Litomysl there was this one family, a working-class family, he was I think a carpenter or something like that, and very much a social democrat, a very honorable person. Every time he met him, my father, though he had two academic degrees, bowed deeply to him. And this family – very simple, but of very precious character – used to send my classmate, Bozenka, to our house to play with me. Her parents simply told her, ‘If you were friends with Eva before, you have to be friends with her again.’ And she really did come over to our place, up until we left. After the war we met up again in high school in the same class, and we’re friends to this day. When I go to Litomysl, we visit each other.

Some of the other children shunned me. I remember that we weren’t allowed to go to the swimming pool, and so we would go to the outskirts of town to this little brook and there we would bathe. It bothered me very much that I couldn’t go to school. Various restrictions, like what we could buy, that I basically didn’t even notice, because our mother was very capable and rustled up all sorts of things. In various illicit ways, and we also knew a lot of people that lived out in the countryside. Even wearing a star [see Yellow star – Jewish star in Protectorate] 16 didn’t leave any sort of impression on me, we later associated only amongst each other, so it didn’t really occur to me. On the other hand it bothered me that we had to hand over radios. That we also had to hand over some jewelry, that didn’t really affect me, and I think that my mother gave it all to friends for safekeeping. She couldn’t give it to our housekeeper, because up until out transport she lived with my grandma and grandpa in one apartment. However, when the door closed on my grandma, she took what she could from that apartment and hid it, and after the war she gradually handed it over to us.

I also remember, that when there was the Heydrichiade 17, I was alone at home with my mother, my father was probably somewhere at work. These two gentlemen rang at the door and were showing us pictures of a bicycle, briefcases and I don’t know what else. And I said, ‘Look mommy, my daddy has this briefcase.’ My mother got terribly angry at me, and said that I was making things up. [Editor’s note: after their successful attack on Reinhard Heydrich, the assassins got rid of evidence. The Gestapo then began an investigation, in which they also used photos of the evidence.]

Otherwise, I think that I was a fairly good child. I remember perhaps one exception, when I wanted to hit my four and a half years younger cousin Milan with an axe. He wasn’t doing anything to me at the time, there was simply this axe here, and he was standing there...well, I simply saw it there, and so I felt this need to use it. And I couldn’t understand why my father was angry at me. I was six at the time.

I also remember that Anita [Frankova] and I met up in Terezin. We were both in one room in the so-called ‘Mädchenheim’ [German for ‘girls’ home’]. Back then my parents arranged for me to get into it. When we arrived in Terezin, we were at first in a so-called ‘schloiska.’ [Editor’s note: schloiska, from the German ‘Schleuse’: first building into which arrivals were herded and where they were stripped of all valuables.] That was for about three days. Then they moved us, men and women with children separately, but there were quite harsh conditions there.

Well, Anita was already in that Mädchenheim, so we lived there together, up until Anita and her mother were sent to Auschwitz in December 1943. I went there with my mother almost a year later. After the war we found out from some ‘guaranteed’ sources, from someone, who reputedly saw with his own eyes, that Anita and her mother went into the gas, but it wasn’t true. Back then they went from Auschwitz to somewhere in Belarus, but where, I can’t exactly remember. And there they were liberated in a quite interesting fashion by the Red Army. Actually, before the Red Army arrived, the Germans tried to shoot them all, and Anita and her mother somehow fainted. Or something like that. So the Germans thought that they were finished. But they still hit Anita’s mother in the head with a rifle butt. Well, and then the Soviet army liberated them, only that they mixed them up with German prisoners and transferred them to a Gulag 18 camp. Well, you know, the Red Army.

Sometime right before Christmas Anita sent a message from her aunt’s in Prague, because they had let her and, I think, a couple of other children out of that Gulag earlier and for the time being left her mother there. I only know that at Christmastime in 1945 Anita was already at our place in Litomysl for the holidays. She then returned to Prague to go to high school. Her mother returned from the Soviet Union about a half year after her. But in 1950 Anita’s mother suddenly began to have headaches and after some time she died. They then found that when they had been beating her in the head with that rifle butt, a skull fragment had gotten into her brain and then did its stuff.

Post-war

But because my mother was the worst case in that camp, we didn’t leave for home right away. They found something in my lungs, even though open tuberculosis it wasn’t. But my mother had had a heart attack there, weighed 29 kilos and was a so-called ‘musulman’ – those are these completely emaciated skeletons with bulging eyes and whiskers all over their faces. The Americans immediately started taking care of her, put her in some infirmary there and more or less put her back together again. So that’s why we couldn’t take the first transport home. For the time being they put me in a former Hitlerjugend 11 camp, on the shores of Lake Attersee [in the Austrian Alps], which was very pleasant, and I walked those five kilometers to the infirmary each day to see my mother. American soldiers would come to visit them there as well, and once some Englishman came by as well. My mother, when she was a bit better off – she really was already very badly off, a 36-year-old person – so after, when she was somewhat healthier, some soldier came by to see her, and my mother said, ‘Hey, you’re from England. I’m sure that my brother is in the army there.’ He asked her what his name was, my mother told him his name, and he said, ‘Yeah, Honza [a familiar version of Jan], I know him well, he’s with the RAF.’ [Editor’s note: Royal Air Force (RAF) – part of the British armed forces. During the years 1940 – 1945 around 3,500 Czech and Slovak pilots served in the RAF.]

By me we were returning home on 19th June, but those friends of mine, the two sisters, again claim some other date. But it’s possible that they went on some earlier transport. Well, be it as it may, I think that we then arrived in Prague on 21st June. There we all went for a medical checkup. They immediately took my mother to the hospital in Podoli, back then it was still a general hospital, not a gynecological clinic. And they took me there with her. I don’t know how long she was there, but once again they more or less put her into shape and still during summer vacation she returned to Litomysl, where she began searching for the furniture and things from our house.

Grandma’s and Grandpa’s housekeeper Marie took charge of me. She took me to her sister and niece in Dobrovice, near Mlada Boleslav. And there they truly tried to take complete care of me and fatten me up. I kept in touch with her up until her death, that was, I think, at the end of the 1960s, beginning of the 1970s. She died in Strancice, near Ricany. She had, when Grandpa and Grandma left for Terezin, or maybe a little before that, met some man of suitable years, some Tomic, who was from Strancice, at the approximate age of 50 she married him. She moved in with him, borrowed furnishings that were in our apartment, and then after the war gradually returned them to us.

Until 1951 my mother lived from her pension – and we lived very modestly, because it was a pension mainly from the time that my father worked as a laborer. It really wasn’t a lot of money. In 1951 she had to find a job, but already back then due to her political background she couldn’t do anything other than manual labor. She worked mainly in the Litomysl dairy, where she washed out large milk cans. She also worked at the post office, where she did some manual work, and also, I think, at a mill and then at Logarex, that was a factory that made various rulers. [Editor’s note: The Logarex plant was founded in 1950 and manufactured computational and drafting instruments. In 1958 the plant became part of the company Koh-i-noor Hardtmuth Czech Republic. Today the plant manufactures school and office supplies.] The problem was, that as soon as she settled in somewhere, they immediately threw her out again, and she had to look for a new job.

So that political background...it was like this...during World War I, my great-grandmother, my mother’s mother’s mother, together with her son-in-law had a shoe factory, army boots I think, or something like that. And there was this one youth employed as an apprentice there, who didn’t devote himself to work very much, and observed so-called Blue Mondays, meaning that on Monday he simply didn’t come to work. Whether they then threw him out or not, I’m not sure, but apparently they probably did.

In short he held a grudge against our entire family. And I also think that he was a big anti-Semite, because when my mother returned, he met her on the square and greeted her in this fashion: ‘Mrs. Freyova, that’s horrible, so many Yids stayed there, and you and your hags had to return.’ For in Terezin my mother apparently somehow got some cigarettes from someplace and bribed someone, so her grandmother and that grandmother’s sister wouldn’t have to go on the transport. My great-grandmother had six children, all of them stayed in Auschwitz, only she and her sister returned and then lived with us. That was a thorn in the eye for that ‘comrade,’ who later became the Communist Party chairman in Litomysl, and tried however he could to make life unpleasant for us.

Our family and my mother’s sister’s family lived together in one house, I think that it was a nice house. Because as soon as the Germans arrived and occupied Litomysl, we had to move in with my father’s parents, and upstairs in that house the Germans set up an NSDAP [Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei] office and downstairs a ‘Kindergarten,’ or nursery school. After February 1948 12 this chairman of the Communist Party in Litomysl came upon an original idea. That we’re going to have to move out and that he’s going to put the Communist Party secretariat on the first floor, and a nursery school on the ground floor. Or an absolute analogy, right? Back then we tried as we might to defend ourselves. One of my friends worked at the district government office – back then Litomysl was still a district – and kept an eye open for us. As soon as they were notified that we’d have to move out, she told us about it even before we got the notification. My mother went to see a different friend, a lawyer, and she immediately wrote up an appeal for us. We appealed for so long, that we eventually appealed all the way up to Zapotocky 13. And with him we were finally successful, so we were able to stay there.

Well, but because there were two three-room apartments with a front hall, quite large rooms, they then wanted to move us out, based on the fact that it was too big for us. For in those days it was permitted to own only three rooms, but I don’t remember their exact area. Back then it was established by some sort of decree. My mother resolved it by selling half of the house, the upper half, to a friend of hers. At that time they were looking for an apartment, so they bought it and immediately moved in. The lady is two years younger than our mother, and is still alive. At least I hope that I can say that, for sure she was still alive last week. So now this old lady lives upstairs there with her daughter, and in our apartment no one permanently. We go there only once in a while. None of my relatives are alive any more, but I have lots of classmates from elementary school and from high school.

That Communist Party chairman in Litomysl reacted very badly to the selling of that half of the house. Every little while my mother had to look for a job, we for example couldn’t even go with a tour group to Dresden and I couldn’t go with the [Communist] Youth Association to Romania. In this way he interfered with our lives until the year 1968, when he tried being progressive. Shortly thereafter he died. Then my mother had a better job: she started working as a gatekeeper at that dairy. But I’ve got the impression that soon after that she retired. As a pensioner she then worked as a tour guide at a historical chateau and Smetana’s room, and finally at the Maticka Gallery – Josef Maticka was a painter in the naive style. It’s very interesting naive art. He wasn’t born in Litomysl, but married a woman from Litomysl, a Jewess by the way. His best paintings are from the time of the war, when he had some sort of premonition of something evil. Before that though, he was a pronounced Communist, which a lot of people were in those days. There’s a gallery in Litomysl named after him, and that’s where my mother worked.

My mother had a brother, Jan, who was two or three years older, and a sister, Marie, who was two years younger. They used to call her Micy [pronounced Mitzi], because she was born in Teplice [Teplice-M(arie)ice-Micy].

Her brother Jan was born in 1906. For a long time he was single and lived in Prostejov, where he had a children’s wear shop. As far as his religious inclinations are concerned, they were very lukewarm. I almost doubt that he would have observed something, and quite certainly he didn’t keep kosher. For a long time he lived with a local actress, prominent during those times, Tana Hodanova [1892–1982], but they weren’t married. That name probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but in its day, it was a very prominent name. My uncle, being very foresighted, realized that staying here during the war wasn’t a road to good fortune, so he wanted to emigrate with Tana Hodanova. But Tana refused, because her world was theater, the Ostrava stage. And so they broke up.

My uncle left for England alone, and started up some sort of textile repair business or something like that, and then had some sort of clothing store there. And he met a much younger girl from Opava, Erika Lichtwitzova, and married her. Her father had a liquor factory in Opava – it was named Lichtwitz Liker. After the war it became a can factory, Seliko. [Editor’s note: The company Emanuel LICHTWITZ – Manufacturer of Liqueurs was founded in 1861 in Opava and in 1863 was recorded in the commercial registry under the name ‘Em. LICHTWITZ.’ After nationalization during the years 1948-1949 the plant was subsumed into national property. Gradually, from 1953 to 1958, its liquor manufacture declined and eventually halted. Its production was replaced by the manufacture of tin cans. The company went through several phases of organizational changes, currently as SELIKO a.s.]

Erika made it to England at the beginning of the war, or even before, that I don’t know exactly. She was also Jewish, so she left for England, as Jews were doing back then. They both returned to Prague from England. On 20th September 1947 they had a son, who they named Tomas Jan Vaclav. But when he was half a year old, right after February 1948, they immediately returned with him back to England. And there he was left with only the name John. Erika is still alive, but then again she was much younger then my uncle, by 13 years. She lives in London and their son John lives right in the next building over.

My mother’s sister Marie was born on 8th August 1911 and then lived in Litomysl up until deportation. She married Otto Sgall, who was 19 years older than she. They had a son, Milan, who was born on 5th May 1934. None of these three survived the war. They left on the Litomysl transport to Terezin and then went on the so-called September transport to Auschwitz, which means that they were all killed on 7th-8th September 1944 in Auschwitz.

As I’ve said, after the war I was also again able to go to school, to high school. That was the school year 1945/46. Back then I was accepted into ‘kvarta’ on a probationary basis – event though I already belonged into ‘kvinta’ [fifth year of school], where they, for understandable reasons, didn’t take me – with the condition that by the end of the school year I had to pass exams in all the subjects in junior high school. Whereas I know that for example here in Prague one of my girlfriends only had to do exams in Czech and math, while I did them in natural sciences, chemistry, and I don’t know what else. In the beginning it was very tough, but then I got used to the work. I used to study late into the night, the kvarta subjects, plus all of the other stuff.

After the war, only three of us children returned to Litomysl, what’s more, of various ages, so the school offered us this possibility, but we had to prepare ourselves on our own. First this one student who had just graduated tutored me for the exams, and then one professor from a technical school, and one lady professor, perhaps also from a technical school. They would come to see me and stuffed my head with knowledge. Because before I had only gone up to the fourth grade of elementary school, and I had studied a bit privately and a tiny bit also in Terezin, secretly, but I knew virtually nothing. The last three quarters of a year that we had been in that Lenzing, I knew only painful, hard work. So I had a completely, but completely blank brain. I didn’t remember anything at all, whatever I learned in the evening, by morning I had forgotten it. But I made such an effort to pass those exams that I succeeded. At first I had all fours and fives [Es and Fs], but in the end I graduated near the top of the class. But I wouldn’t say that I caught up with everything, even though for those exams it was enough.

I very much loved going to school. Summer holidays always took too long for me, I couldn’t wait until I could go to school again. I liked studying, in elementary school, I think, I liked everything – perhaps less counting and more grammar. And I had a hard time coping with drawing. And in high school I loved all the humanities, while the natural sciences remained somewhat foreign to me. Though I must say that even so they interested me and I liked studying them.

After graduating I went on to study Library Science at the Faculty of Philosophy. I had wanted to take psychology, but halfway through my last year of high school I learned that I’d have to combine it with pure philosophy, and back then pure philosophy meant above all Marxism. Well, and so I rejected that notion and applied for Languages – not very cleverly though, because I applied for English-German. For in 1950 it was absolutely out of the question that I’d be accepted, when I didn’t have a Party background. So I was very lucky that back then they wrote me: ‘You have been accepted into Library Science.’ And so I studied Library Science.

We had several people that had written entrance exams in completely different subject areas. For example, my current colleague, not only from the same year, but also the same profession, wrote her entrance exams in art history. And was also notified: ‘You have been accepted into Library Science.’ Because no one was interested in Library Science! Anita Frankova, for example, applied for History and was accepted into Archival Science. She was in the same year. Back then it wasn’t possible to transfer to a different department, when they had already accepted you into the Faculty of Philosophy, even though I think someone perhaps managed it, but on the other hand they could accept you into a completely different department than the one you wrote entrance exams for.

Back then I said to myself that better Library Science than nothing. But then I began to like it, and I do to this day. Besides, already in elementary school I had liked reading, my favorite author was Foglar. [Foglar, Jaroslav (1907-1999): Czech writer of young people’s literature.] I was reputedly a poor eater, and when my mother walked by a bookstore with me, I said, ‘Mommy, I’m hungry.’ And she apparently said, ‘Come on, I’ll take you over there across the way to the butcher shop and buy you something.’ And I said, ‘No, I’m hungry for reading.’

At home we of course also had a library. My father was a big collector of literature, and had a lot of technical literature. He liked fairy tales and things that were put out in those days by ELK, the European Literary Club. Which were these contemporary Czech and international classics. My mother also undoubtedly read similar literature. I don’t know if they also had any religious literature at home; I only remember that Grandpa used to take his prayer book out of his night table. As far as magazines go, my father subscribed to the weekly Pestry Tyden, we even had it bound. [Editor’s note: The introductory issue of the magazine Pestry Tyden (Colorful Week) was published in 1926. It was a weekly aimed at the intellectual upper class. Editors were Adolf Hoffmeister, Jaromir John, and up to the magazine’s very end in 1945, Neubert.]

Litomysl also had a city library, but whether they used to go there, I don’t know. I myself was only there once. That was after the war, already as a high school student, when I needed some compulsory literature. I saw that dark room, all the books wrapped in blue wrapping paper, the librarian was a very interesting figure: very ugly, with jutting teeth, a black smock, sleeve protectors. Well, I was glad to leave there. And said to myself: ‘To the library, never again.’

As far as foreign languages go, I’m capable of communicating in German. But I never studied German, because I was born in Pilsen and therefore grew up in a bilingual environment. At the age of eight, Uncle Sgall started teaching me English, which I then also had in high school, but as an option, and then also at university. So I can also get by in English. In high school we also had Latin. From ‘kvarta’ onwards I had Russian, in which I also tutored others, and then passed my exams in. But I’ve forgotten it, because I haven’t used it for a long time. That I very much regret.

By the way, at the prison camp, in Lenzing, I was together with some Hungarian women, and so that I’d exercise my brain a bit, I learned Hungarian as well. I listened and asked them what this or that sentence or word meant. So back then I also understood that language fairly well, but now, except for a couple of words, I don’t understand a thing. From ‘kvinta’ onwards I had French, in which, I think, I also passed my final exams, but because I haven’t used it for so long, I know it passively, but unfortunately not actively. After the final state exams I applied to a school of languages to study modern Hebrew, or Ivrit, because I didn’t know much of that from my childhood. That questionable Rabbi Samuel Freilich, who taught us Hebrew back in Litomysl in elementary school, didn’t teach us much. More often it was our father or grandfather that taught us something.

Besides languages, I also devoted myself to sports quite a bit, but back then there weren’t any sports clubs. Before the war I used to go to Sokol 19. But I never participated in any rally. I skied, skated, sledded, swam and so on. In Litomysl people used to go skating on a pond not far from Anita Frankova’s house. So we used to go skating together. I never skied in the mountains; my parents didn’t ski, so we never went. But in Litomysl there was this hill that they used to call Fejtak, or Fejt Hill. Back then it seemed awfully huge to me, but today I maybe wouldn’t even notice it. What’s more, it may not even be there any more, various changes have been made there. And it was on this hill that children in Litomysl used to go skiing. But my only interest was reading, and that’s stayed with me to this day. Even today I’m usually never bored, buy I try to find a little bit of spare time for a bit of reading.

They made Library Science studies into a single major with no minor subject for us, so we graduated in two years, in 1952. During my studies I did my work experience at the National Museum, in the archival documents section, where I used to go work for free in the hopes that I’d get a job there. I found the work there quite fascinating. They then asked our faculty for me, because it was work placement time. But at our faculty they told them that the museum is a very reactionary environment and that I’m not politically somehow yet a completely lost cause, so that they have to put me someplace where I’ll have a chance to become politically elevated. And they placed me at the Army Medical Library in Hradec Kralove. So I wrote them to introduce myself, and they wrote me back that three people had gotten the same placement, and that I was the least suitable as far as political background was concerned, so that they wouldn’t accept me. Back then in the 1950s everything was possible, even that three people get placed into the same position.

Someone told me that he had heard that there was some library in Dejvice [a quarter of Prague]. So I left for Dejvice, and there I went from faculty to faculty – there was Agriculture and Chemistry there – and everywhere they told me that they had no free position. I also went to the UDA, which was the Central Army Building, but there I had absolutely no luck due to my political background. And then in one of those places they told me that perhaps someplace in Podbaba, in some research institute, that there was some library.

So I went to Podbaba, found that there’s a Water Management Research Institute there, and so I went to see the political officer, some Josef Fiala. He was an incredible primitive. Without having a single reference about me, when he found out that I had been in a concentration camp, he said to himself, ‘Aha, she’s got to be politically aware, we’ll put her in the library. There they don’t have a very good political background, so she’ll educate them there.’ So they put me there and we of course immediately understood each other, and right away I was one of them, and I and the woman who was the manager are friends to this day.

But I was there for only a short while, not quite a year, because we found out that the library was supposed to get a new manager. And my manager, because she knew that I could have political problems with him, said to me, ‘Eva, you’d better get out of here as soon as you can.’ And at that time, completely by coincidence, it was all this series of coincidences, this one engineer came by, who told me that they were starting up a new library at the Academy of Sciences, across the street – back then it was a laboratory for water management and then it was turned into the Hydrodynamics Institute – and if I don’t know of someone. And my manager said, ‘Don’t hesitate for even an instant, and take it yourself.’ So I took it myself. By the way, when I was leaving for my new workplace, I received the following political evaluation: ‘Comrade Freyova, despite having been in a concentration camp, addresses her female comrades as Miss.’ According to that political officer, as soon as someone had been in a concentration camp, they had to be a Communist. He was simply incredibly dumb.

So in 1953 I transferred to the Hydrodynamics Institute, they had a very good director there, and he had a splendid assistant. The assistant interviewed me, told me that everything was in order, but finally he paused, and to ‘politically verify’ me, he said, ‘Please, Miss, there’s one more thing, but I don’t know how to say it. You see, we don’t have a [Communist] Youth Association here. And if you’re going to require it, we’ll have to start one because of you.’ And I replied, ‘Please, anything but that.’ I think that I was extremely lucky. So at the academy I started up a library, and I was there until 1988, until the last day of November 1988, when I retired. I was in charge of the entire library, so I performed acquisitions, processing, lending, statistics, purchasing plus inter-library loans.

After I retired I had various part-time jobs, for example at the National Library. I did bibliography at the Current Events Institute, and then in 1996 I founded my beloved library: the library at the Terezin Initiative Institute. That’s why I’ve got such good access to the Terezin Memorial Book. At first Mr. Miroslav Karny, who took a leading role in the Terezin Initiative right after November [1989], was looking for someone to work at the museum in Terezin. I wasn’t in the mood for commuting there daily, so I refused. But then, when his struggle for the creation of the Terezin Initiative Foundation 20 succeeded – today it’s the Terezin Initiative Institute – they also wanted to have a library there, and he thought of me once again. I didn’t have anything to do at the time, so I jumped into it with enthusiasm.

I really got into Library Science, I was captivated mainly by the system. Moreover, back then at the Hydrodynamic Institute the content also captivated me. My father was a technical person, I was even familiar with some authors that my father had talked about, so it was something that near and dear to me. And at the Terezin Initiative, it’s near and dear to me as a Jewess who herself was in Terezin.

As far as religion is concerned, I practice to this day, and this I see as being thanks to my grandfather and father, that they influenced me in such a way that it remained in me. As I’ve said, the teachings of that rabbi didn’t give any of us much to go on. He was originally from [Subcarpathian] Ruthenia 21, his name was Samuel Freilich, and he spoke with this bad Czech. We had lessons about once a week. I used to go there with my only Jewish classmate, Anita Frankova. What’s more, in the end it came out that Samuel Freilich was a big swindler. Before the transports, or perhaps even at the beginning of the war, he had asked some of the rich members of the community for money, telling them that he’d arrange emigration for them, and then disappeared. After the war he appeared at our place, right before lunch, and my mother asked him, ‘So, what did you do with that money?’ Well, he made all sorts of excuses, and then he claimed that he’d been interned at Ebensee [one of the most well-known sub-camps of Mauthausen]. Hearing this, my mother said, ‘Well, that’s interesting, but we returned home with the men from Ebensee.’ And he immediately said his goodbyes. I never heard of him again.

Before the war a little over one hundred Jews lived in Litomysl – after the war fifteen of them returned – so it was unthinkable for ten men to gather at the synagogue on Friday evening [for a minyan – a minimum of ten men above the age of 13 necessary for a public prayer to be held]. So we attended the synagogue only on the high holidays, for Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Simchat Torah. Back then Litomysl had a population of 5,000, now it’s got 10,000, and has always been very cultural. From at least the 19th century it was for one a student town and for another a town of writers, musicians and painters. Smetana [Bedrich (1824-1884): Czech composer, conductor, piano virtuoso and teacher], Jirasek [Alois (1851-1930): Czech novelist and playwright, writer of historical fairy tales] and Nemcova 22 lived here. I wrote about her in the Litomysl memorial journal. For it was there that she first published her first collection of writings with the local publisher Antonin August. She would always go and spend some time in Litomysl; she lived there in three different places.

There was never a Jewish quarter in Litomysl, only a synagogue and beside it the house of the shammash. There were no Jewish schools or mikves there. Currently the Jewish cemetery is in a state of absolute devastation. That’s because it’s not so old as to interest the Jewish Museum and the employees of the Jewish community, so it’s all paid for from local sources. But I’m afraid that the possibilities are very limited. The devastation continues. Even though now a local teacher and her students have begun taking care of it. My great-grandmother on my father’s side is definitely buried at the Litomysl cemetery. Maybe Uncle Karel too, her son. The rest of my relatives’ ashes were scattered. As far as the synagogue goes, the Communists demolished it in the 1960s. I initiated and saw through an effort to have a memorial plaque installed in the place it used to stand. It has an inscription that the Nazis devastated it and the Communists demolished it. Their excuse at the time was that they wanted to build a housing development. Which they did, but it would not have stood in their way at all. Back then my mother tried to convince them to at least turn it into some cultural display. But there was a concerted effort to be rid of it all.

Jews in Litomysl were mainly merchants. They did business with various articles, but mainly with textiles, I think. There was a very prominent factory owner, Hugo Popper, a well-known footwear manufacturer. It was very high-quality footwear, mainly for export. By the way, if you know Helga Hoskova [Helga Hoskova-Weissova], the painter, who created a memorial plaque that’s on the Park Hotel in Holesovice, from where the first Prague transports left, he was her uncle. She also made the memorial plaque for the Litomysl synagogue.

My religious identity

As a young girl I liked the high holidays, the way the entire family and the entire Litomysl community would go to synagogue. It was all so festive and we children horsed around frightfully. And we were admonished, even by hand. My grandfather, father and my father’s brother sat on the left in the first row and I was allowed to come and sit with those three gentlemen. That I also liked a lot. In our synagogue it was normal for women to sit separately from the men, but I simply scampered down and sat myself down beside them. No one threw me out [Editor’s note: in Orthodox synagogues, the women and men must sit separately]. Whether they would have thrown other children out, that I don’t know, but I don’t think anything would have happened to them either. What’s more, it wasn’t only once, if anything I sat there quite regularly. Besides that, I remember that when there was a maskir, or prayer for the dead – in that moment all who still have both parents and their siblings, basically their closest relatives, must leave the synagogue – I would leave the synagogue with both my parents, but I didn’t know the reason why. But I knew that if both of my parents had to leave the synagogue as well, that for sure there was nothing indecent going on in there. Because whatever wasn’t for children was indecent, at least that’s how I understood it back then.

Otherwise on Friday evenings we always gathered at my grandfather’s, at my father’s father’s, where the eve of the Sabbath was celebrated within our immediate family. Everything always took place in that room with the vaulted ceiling. But I don’t remember my mother lighting Sabbath candles, for example. Grandpa said blessings before we ate, even though I’m not sure whether he said similar blessings before meals other than the Sabbath one. We didn’t eat kosher, and likely no one in Litomysl did, as that possibility didn’t even exist. My grandfather, when he was young, kept kosher, but then he came down with some stomach problems – what kind, I don’t know – and the doctor recommended that he eat ham. Well, and chicken ham didn’t exist back then. But he was wise, and I think that he handled it very well back then. We didn’t even separate meat and dairy products. On the other hand, when I was at my grandfather’s on Saturday, I wasn’t even allowed to write. But when I was at home, then yes. My grandfather was stricter in this respect, and on Saturday he didn’t even travel. [On Saturday, the Sabbath, Jewish religious laws forbid 39 fundamental work activities that are described in the Talmud, and other activities that are related to them. Among them are for example also writing and traveling.] But as the representative of the Most Steelworks, my father had to travel even on Saturday.

We also celebrated Passover, seder supper, at my grandfather’s. Of course we read from the Haggadah and I was allowed to say the mah nishtanah. Because I wasn’t very good in Hebrew, by father transcribed it onto a piece of paper in Latin script and put it into the Haggadah. I would read it, but felt very embarrassed, because I had the feeling that I was cheating if I didn’t read it from the original. Today I’d know how to pray from the original, at least that what my grandpa and father taught me. They both devoted themselves to me a great deal, mainly my grandfather, he really quite vehemently, because my father had little time, being always on the road.

Our family never observed Christian holidays, we for example never had a Christmas tree. It never really bothered me, and I didn’t even try to somehow conceal it from my classmates. I was taught to proudly acknowledge it. But I think that it didn’t interest my classmates at all anyways, whether I got presents at Christmas or for Chanukkah, and neither were any of them interested in how and why Chanukkah is celebrated, for example.

When I was little, all those prohibitions and commandments bothered me a lot. My parents always left me with my grandpa and grandma, with my father’s parents, and Grandma was always afraid for me and wouldn’t let me out to play with other children. On the other hand, even though Grandpa forbade me to write and draw, he did tell me various Bible stories, which captivated me. Later I read the whole Bible, both the Old and New Testament. And occasionally, when I come upon something, I write about religion in the Jewish Almanac. But not so much anymore now; now I devote myself more, how would I say it, to the formal aspects of the community’s life. Because, as you surely know, there’s a lot of quarreling going on there. I’m a supporter of the anti-Sidon side, and I identify myself as such. [Editor’s note: Karol Efraim Sidon, the Chief Rabbi of the Czech Republic and Prague, is an advocate of conservative Judaism.] It’s got nothing to do with religion, though, it’s more about a certain relationship with the community. I’m convinced that the other side – we always say on our side and on the other side – that by me the other side, though it very demonstratively performs religious rites, is mainly concerned with financial and other gains. Well, basically financial.

Today I myself don’t observe prohibitions connected with Saturday, neither do I light candles. In a mixed marriage that’s not possible and our lifestyle in general doesn’t allow it. I only go to the community during certain holidays, and during the Long Day [Yom Kippur] I fast. But I began to take Judaism as more of a philosophy of life and the things that weren’t possible to observe, basically the formalities, I dispensed with. That’s also why the current Orthodox tendency of the Prague community is foreign to me. According to me, the things that they are promoting are only these formalities, things through which a person removes himself from normal society. That he puts himself ‘on show.’ That I don’t like, that sort of, let’s say, demonstration.

As an adult I was at the synagogue on Friday evening, and it seemed to me to be foreign, impersonal, so I said to myself that I have no need of it. But because as a child I was used to going to the synagogue on the high holidays, somehow I attended the whole time, even during Communist times. Because I’m a librarian, I also had official errands to run, so I combined it with some official errand. And no one knew anything. Probably I was lucky. And just as lucky was my husband, Milan Dusek, who played the organ at St. Margaret’s, also every Sunday and every holiday. Their political officer lived across the street from the entrance to St. Margaret’s, and she used to say, ‘I know everything about everyone.’ But about my husband she knew nothing. I never felt any repression due to my faith during Communist times. Only once, during some interrogation, or perhaps a political background interview, I don’t know any more, they asked how it is with me and religion, to which I replied that I don’t have it all figured out yet.

I never came across any anti-Semitism in my life, neither in school, nor at work. My mother did, with that chairman of the National Committee, but not me personally. I never had the need to hide my Jewish origin, but neither did I feel the need to demonstrate it. At work they of course knew it about me. By the way, we had a group of four of us women there, and all of us were religiously inclined, each to a different kind. And we discussed it, in absolute agreement. One was a Protestant, another Czechoslovak [Czechoslovak Hussite Church] and one was a Catholic. What connected us was the common opinion regarding whether one should be a believer or atheist, you know, during totalitarian times. I think that regarding faith, all four of us were tolerant, and still are to this day.

I grew out of Judaism, or more I grew up in it. That doubt whether I should accept it never came upon me, I don’t think that I ever thought about anything like that. I simply took it as a given. And I never asked anyone whether I should believe or not, not even during times of Communism, which promoted atheism. I believed, but never advertised the fact. People even asked me, how it’s possible that I didn’t stop believing after the Holocaust. But I know that that’s how it had to be, so I go on believing. It’s hard to put into words what in Judaism speaks to me the most. I like that my opinion and my feelings are shared by another, here larger, here smaller group of people. And above all they’re emotional bonds – to tradition and Jewish ideals.

Married life

My husband is named Milan Dusek. He’s not a Jew, but a Catholic. He was born on 26th May 1931. He grew up in Usti nad Orlici, but his mother left for Vysoke Myto to give birth to him – there was no maternity ward in Usti. He had, but actually didn’t have siblings. Because his father Emil was married for a second time. He first married in 1894. He had six children with his first wife. But she was chronically ill in some way; no one knows exactly what was wrong with her. They thought that maybe it was multiple sclerosis. Then when he became a widower, it became apparent that none of those basically already adult children wanted to take care of him. And so he found a housekeeper. And he decided to take her as his wife.

She was named Justina Zimprichova. There was an age difference of 28 years between them. She was actually a German, who came from around Usti nad Orlici, from the Sudetenland. But she identified herself as being of Czech nationality. So my father had six half-siblings from his father’s first marriage, and none from the second. I don’t know anything about them, they didn’t associate and I don’t think that any of them are still alive. His oldest brother, if I’m not mistaken, was about three-quarters of a year older than my husband’s mother. And they apparently were very jealous of her. They just didn’t want to have anything to do with them [their father and his second wife].

My husband graduated from the Prague Conservatory, but for political reasons he only got in on the third attempt. So before that he absolved several working-class professions, he worked in some shop that manufactured shingles and so on, various things.

After graduation he taught music in Vysoke Myto for some time, but in the end he returned to the conservatory. There he primarily taught piano, improvisation and theory. But his original profession is that of an organist, he himself played in the Brevnov Monastery during totalitarian times. He also taught music at DAMU [Faculty of Drama of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague]. There, by the way, he taught mainly the year in which were Dejdar [Martin (b. 1965)], Hrzanova [Barbora (b. 1964)], Jancarik, he’s in Brno, and Hanus [Miroslav (b. 1963)], he plays at the Theater in Dlouha. I think that in the second year they rehearsed this one-act play from F.F. Samberk [Frantisek Ferdinand (1838-1904)], ‘Nuthouse On The First Floor.’ They modernized it and played it at Disk [DAMU student theater]. Then when they graduated, the guys went into the army. But when they returned, they decided that they’d rehearse it again. But they didn’t have any materials any more, and so my husband had to put everything together from recordings. And so he put it together, prepared it and accompanied them. They played it – and virtually still do – in various theaters. He then worked on other plays with them as well. Even now, when Dejdar and Hrzanova have some time, for both of them are very busy, they take the play to Brno to the Radost Theater. But the play hasn’t been put on for a long time now.

So, both of us studied in Prague, my husband lived in a dorm during his studies, from 1951 to 1956. I lived in a private apartment. But we didn’t meet until later, on 14th December 1959. In a train. There used to be a shuttle train from Litomysl to Chocen – and it still runs to this day. At one time there was an effort to route an express train through Litomysl, but the town council was against it. So it didn’t happen. Luckily. At that time my husband was taking the train from Usti to Prague, and I from Litomysl. And in Chocen I sat down in the compartment where my husband was sitting.

Later we agreed that usually both of us simply sat down in the compartment, read something and didn’t talk to anyone. But back then I asked him whether there was a free spot, he said yes, and right away we began to talk. I had a leather coat on, which I had bought in Bulgaria, and because of which I had had political profile issues. And because of it my husband thought that I worked for the StB [Statni Tajna Bezpecnost] 23 and it irritated him greatly. But they way it had been with that coat, was that I had traded it for some things, but the political officers thought that I had bought it and asked me how I had come by so much money. I had a high school classmate who had married a man in Bulgaria, and she confirmed that she had given me the coat. So we began to discuss our jobs. I told him what I did, and then I asked him what he did. He answered that he taught. My question as to whether in elementary school provoked him. He told me that no, that he teaches at a conservatory.

Well, and then we started discussing music. I myself had taken piano lessons for a long time, but back then they told me that despite being talented, I’ll never get very far in it. I used to go see this one teacher, her name was Emilie Votroubkova. She would stand above me, whack me across the fingers and address me in the third person. She would say, ‘I’m convinced, that when I die, she won’t come to my funeral.’ After the war I even had a recital. But it ended up very infamously. After the war I also took accordion lessons, which I had insisted on, and when there was a public performance, my teacher told me, ‘Take my advice, and take your notes with you.’ But I answered, ‘No way, I’ve got it perfectly memorized.’ I got through the toughest part, and that was the end. But I was never one for public performances. I didn’t like showing off in public. As opposed to Anita Frankova, who would sing whenever anyone asked her to. I also sang in a choir, the school choir.

I told my future husband that I like Janacek [Leos Janacek (1854-1928): Czech composer, teacher, prominent folklorist and leading exponent of modern music], he said that he liked Mozart. So we found that we absolutely could not agree. We arrived in Prague, walked out to the streetcar stop, and standing there and waiting for the streetcar was a former pupil of my husband’s – my husband at one time taught music at a technical school in Vysoke Myto – who was also a colleague of mine. Because he was a technician and worked at our Institute. Both of us walked up to him and each of us wanted to introduce him to the other. And he says, ‘I know both of you.’ In the meantime the streetcar was approaching, I and that Mr. Peterka got on the streetcar, and my husband says, ‘Mr. Peterka, what’s your phone number?’ And he says, ‘Such and such, but Miss Freyova’s number is so and so.’ In the streetcar I then questioned him, ‘Mr. Peterka, please, who’s that impossible man?’ And he says to me, ‘Well, excuse me, he’s actually an excellent person.’ My husband called me the next day and I began to investigate what it was that was so excellent about him. And I’m still investigating to this day.

We were married on 28th January 1961. I had applied at an apartment co-op, and at that time we began to have a realistic hope of getting an apartment. That quickened our decision. Our first child, our daughter Hana, was born on 15th January 1962. Our son Petr is younger: he was born on 25th November 1967.

Our daughter is married for the second time, because her husband, Jan Sevcik, was killed in a car accident a year after their wedding. She married him in 1985. In 1987 she met her second husband, Petr Janis, and married him in 1988. She has one daughter from her second marriage, Tereza who is 16 now. Hana graduated from DAMU, Department of Theater and Cultural Organization and Administration. In other words, production. Now she works as a public relations officer for various companies.

Our son Petr is also married, he was married ten years ago, so in 1995. He married Lucie Blahetova. They have two daughters together, Katerina and Barbora. Katerina was born on 1st October 2000. The other is going to be two on 9th October, so she was born in 2003. Petr has a technical diploma in Mechanical Engineering, which he did after his army service. Originally he had been a licensed auto mechanic. Now he’s studying at a university in Brno, Department of Special Education. He does distance studies, as part of his profession – he’s a criminologist – and it was a condition of his staying in his job.

As far my children are concerned, I’d say that my daughter has very Jewish sentiments. She says that the fact that she’s a half-breed enlarges her capability for tolerance. She considers herself to be Jewish, doesn’t practice, is in fact an atheist, but sees it as the fact that she has Jewish blood. My son Petr doesn’t think about it as much, he only said that he’d like to join the Jewish community, which he managed, but I didn’t ask him why, because he’s very introverted. I have no idea what made him do it. He’s not circumcised and neither does he practice in any way.

But both children were brought up to believe, and that in both directions, because my husband is also religiously inclined. Our children saw it, we never hid it from them, and they knew that it had to be combined somehow. They knew the differences and saw that we tolerate each other, so they tolerated it without any problems whatsoever. We celebrated Jewish and Christian holidays equally. The whole family still goes to the community with me: during Chanukkah or at Purim and Passover. They themselves don’t observe holidays. Now during the high holidays I go either alone or with my husband, because our children simply don’t have the time for it. But when they were small, they also went. When I was married I also began to celebrate Christmas. We used to celebrate it here at home, we’d put up a tree and so on. Today we celebrate it at our daughters’ place. I take it as a social occasion, and an opportunity for the family to get together.

As far as spare time goes, at one time I used to enthusiastically attend plays and concerts. Today very little, because I’m somewhat handicapped. I had a broken leg and also had my first lumbar vertebrae broken twice – once last year and again this year. So now I’m a little more tired. I used to go with my girlfriends, because my husband doesn’t go out anywhere. He’s got his music library at home and doesn’t want to be disturbed while listening to it. He says that he can’t stand the various shuffling of feet and coughing at public performances. The last few years I also rarely go to the movies, but when we where younger we used to go. There used to be a movie theater in Litomysl, and at one time even two, I think. I was there even before the war, at that time they were showing ‘Snow White.’

I also used to go to student balls a lot, they were on an excellent level. Today dances are formally the same as back then, but not content-wise. Here in Prague, last year, I attended dances with my granddaughter, it was a group of people – I don’t want to call it a society – who didn’t know each other at all, while we, there in that small town, all knew each other. They were only student dances, and so we were a uniform society and one could say a good society. As far as I can remember, we used to go to dances once a week, but how long they lasted, I don’t know any more. In Prague I then used to go to balls with a group of friends, because my husband doesn’t dance. He did participate in dances, and several times in fact, but only as a piano player. He’s a complete anti-talent when it comes to dancing.

So I spend my free time with my girlfriends. I’ve retained some friendships from long-ago times as well. For example, last week I visited one girlfriend who I know from when we were still of preschool age – that’s a long-term friendship. I’m also still friends with that classmate of mine that I used to play with during the war, and with girls from high school. These days we have reunions every year. Originally they were every five years, then every three years, and now every year. Once in a while we write each other. We also used to go on trips together, but not any more. We of course used to do it as scouts when we were single. We used to go camping, on trips into the countryside and so on. Not only around Litomysl. In 1949 we were in the Svatojanska Valley in Slovakia. There are girls and boy scouts. The way it worked was that the boys built the camp and were there for the first 14 days. We would then take their place and then take the camp apart. I liked going there, there were girls that I felt close to, the spirit of scouting was close to my heart, basically it was a good gang. I began going there in 1947 during summer vacation. In 1949, after summer vacation, the Scouts were unfortunately disbanded [see Czech Scout Movement] 24.

I never differentiated whether my friends were Jews or not. It wasn’t even possible; there were only nineteen of us children there, and of my age only, Anita Frankova. I’m good friends with her to this day. Even though we don’t have time to meet up, we only promise each other.

My relationship with the Communist regime was unambiguous and supported by many facts. But I had never been interrogated due to my relatives in the West. They probably checked our correspondence, but of course we wrote very carefully. We also tried to listen to Radio Free Europe 25 and so on, but it was very difficult, because it was jammed a lot in Prague. Outside of Prague it was easier. And once in a while I also got to a samizdat [see Samizdat literature in Czechoslovakia] 26.

Luckily at work we were this good group, there weren’t any Communists there. Though in 1968 [see Prague Spring] 27 the director of our institute emigrated, I had and still have – I hope that he’s still alive – a very good friendly relationship with him. I even went to visit him in England in 1992. However, I also was friendly with the new director.

But in 1974 they put a radical end to all that: a new ‘comrade’ director came, and hard times were upon us. For example, he suspected, or perhaps someone informed him, that the library is actually gathering all information, that therefore we know everything. He asked me into his office and wanted me to inform on people. I refused. And from that time on I had the lowest salary and the lowest bonuses. But he didn’t have any way of getting rid of me, because I was protected by ‘255,’ that is, by statute 255/46 regarding privileges of people that had returned from concentration camps. So he couldn’t fire me.

In 1981, however, when Solidarity 28 came along, he tried to go at it using that route. One day in the year 1981 when I came home from work, I found an official notice in my mailbox that said: ‘Come the next day at such and such a time to Bartolomejska Street No. 4. According to statute XY.’ I said to myself, ‘Omigod, what could have I done?’ And I went to the local VB [Public Security, today the Police] and asked them what statute that was. And they told me that it concerned the theft of socialist state property. I said to myself, ‘But I couldn’t have stolen anything. I don’t know of anything.’ The next day I went to Bartolomejska Street, went to the reception and said, ‘Excuse me, there’s probably a mistake here, because it’s supposed to be such and such statute, and I’m not aware of having stolen anything.’ The concierge answered me, ‘Well, maybe you stole something while you were drunk.’ To which I said, ‘Excuse me, but the last time I was drunk I was three years old.’ And he jumped up and said, ‘What? Do you know what could have come of it!’ I said that luckily nothing came of it.

So he led me upstairs and there was someone sitting there who was asking me questions from one angle, then another. After some time my patience wore thin and I said, ‘Excuse me, tell me what you actually want from me. You’re wasting your time here, while you should be working, I’m wasting my time, while I’m supposed to be working.’ Well, then he finally asked whether I supposedly don’t have some connection to Solidarity. Whether I’m not receiving any literature from them. And whether I’m in contact with people abroad. To this I said, ‘Yes, I am. Because I have a lot of relatives there, who emigrated there before Hitler.’ The ones who emigrated after 1968, those I somehow forgot about.

Well, so we talked like this for a while, he asked whether by any chance I don’t write those relatives that there are things here that I don’t like. I took exception and asked what it was that I could possibly write them. Well, it went on like this for a while longer, and then he said, ‘All right, you can go home.’ And I said, ‘I’m not going home until you give me an official confirmation that I’ve been here, because I need it for work.’ He answered: “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave you here by yourself.’ And I said, ‘Well, I’m sorry too, but I’m simply not leaving here without that confirmation.’ And so he said to me, ‘Stay where you’re sitting, and don’t move even a bit,’ pressed some button under the table and in a while came back, brought me the confirmation, and I went home.

So, even this didn’t work out for the director. And when I realized that despite my relatively minimal income, it would be more advantageous for me to retire on 1st December 1988, I left on my own. Even though, due to that ‘Article 255,’ I had already been of retirement age since 1982. And then the year 1989 [see Velvet Revolution] 29 arrived. At that time, though, I was mainly occupied with babysitting my oldest granddaughter, Tereza. I used to take her up to Petrin [Hill] in her baby carriage, and watched the masses of people walking about and demonstrating. But I also went; I was on Wenceslaus Square and also on Letna.

Otherwise I was allowed to travel even during Communist times. My mother and I had been to England to visit relatives. And then in 1992. Nowadays we don’t travel much, we used to spend summer vacations partly alone and partly with our children and their families. Once in a while we babysat Tereza. We took care of those little girls [the interviewee’s granddaughters] only once in a while. This year we were in Litomysl with them for the first time.

Before 1950 my mother had a great desire to emigrate. I insisted that I wanted to graduate from high school in Litomysl. Then in 1968 I had a desire to emigrate, and I was already married and my husband didn’t want to leave. I wanted to leave, maybe for Canada, where I had lots of relatives. I have no relatives in Israel, though I do have a few friends there, emigrants. When I arrived in Israel I was very glad to see them and I felt good with them. I’m convinced that Israel should have been created and that the people that live there are happy and feel at home there. But I don’t think that I would feel at home there. I’m used to a Christian environment.

I’ve been to Israel four times. The first time was back then with President Havel 30 in April of 1990. That was his first trip to Israel, when he took some of us with him, I think that there were 90 of us, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. At that time there was some sort of program, a ballet or concert and as part of it Havel and Knazko 31 made speeches. Knazko unpleasantly surprised me, because at that time Havel spoke for Czechoslovakia, but Knazko for Slovakia. Even back then you could see the effort to separate. They then led us to the University of Jerusalem, where there was some exhibition about the Holocaust. And we were at Yad Vashem 32. In May of that same year I was there to attend a congress of the International Council of Jewish Women. The third time, I was there with a tour group through a travel agency, that was for about a week, a typical travel agency tour, a large group, by bus. That time I went there with Anita Frankova. The fourth time I was there, it was once again for a congress of the International Council of Jewish Women.

During that official trip I lived with relatives of a girlfriend of mine, and they took us to visit various historical sites and during the two congresses they also always took us on some trip: each time to Yad Vashem, and then one time to see the bedouin in the Negev Desert.

My first impression upon visiting Israel was that I’m walking along in the Bible. And that impression always followed me. I was especially captivated by Jerusalem’s Old Town, Jaffa Gate, basically the entire city. I was of course also at the Wailing Wall. The first time a larger group of us went there, and then I was there again with some friends. But I liked the other cities that I visited during that bus tour as well. For example Jaffa or Tel Aviv and Bethlehem. We were also at Masada, on the Mount of Olives, or in Nazareth, there I liked it a lot. For me it was interesting to visit both Jewish and Christian historical sites.

My experiences down below, by the Dead Sea and in Eilat, were more negative. I had been very curious about the Dead Sea, but I had some scrapes, something not normally noticeable, but I couldn’t go into that salty water. That made me very sad. So I’d never want to go to the Dead Sea again. And I didn’t like Eilat either, because it’s a big city and it’s really just a shopping mall by the sea. I did like the seaquarium there. And otherwise I was absolutely not impressed by a diamond cutting shop, because that was also very commercially oriented. And I didn’t like the tour guide, because she tried to make as much out of it for herself, and didn’t take care of us. I had a certain misunderstanding with her, we didn’t get along at all. No, I didn’t do anything rotten to her, it was more that I pointed out her inaccuracies. And that was already at the airport in Prague. And she put up a fight.

I can’t say that I was looking forward to anything in particular before my first visit to Israel. I was curious about everything. And everything surprised me.

Rodina
Za války
Po válce
Vzpomínky na dětství
Zaměstnání
Náboženský život
Život od 60. let
Glosář

1 Terezin/Theresienstadt

A ghetto in the Czech Republic, run by the SS. Jews were transferred from there to various extermination camps. It was used to camouflage the extermination of European Jews by the Nazis, who presented Theresienstadt as a ‘model Jewish settlement’. Czech gendarmes served as ghetto guards, and with their help the Jews were able to maintain contact with the outside world. Although education was prohibited, regular classes were held, clandestinely. Thanks to the large number of artists, writers, and scholars in the ghetto, there was an intensive program of cultural activities. At the end of 1943, when word spread of what was happening in the Nazi camps, the Germans decided to allow an International Red Cross investigation committee to visit Theresienstadt. In preparation, more prisoners were deported to Auschwitz, in order to reduce congestion in the ghetto. Dummy stores, a cafe, a bank, kindergartens, a school, and flower gardens were put up to deceive the committee.

2 Terezin Initiative

In the year 1991 the former prisoners of various concentration camps met and decided to found the Terezin Initiative (TI), whose goal is to commemorate the fate of Protectorate (Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia) Jews, to commemorate the dead and document the history of the Terezin ghetto. Within the framework of this mission TI performs informative, documentary, educational and editorial activities. It also financially supports field trips to the Terezin Ghetto Museum for Czech schools.

3 Joseph II (1741-1790)

Holy Roman Emperor, king of Bohemia and Hungary (1780-1790), a representative figure of enlightened absolutism. He carried out a complex program of political, economic, social and cultural reforms. His main aims were religious toleration, unrestricted trade and education, and a reduction in the power of the Church. These views were reflected in his policy toward Jews. His ,Judenreformen’ (Jewish reforms) and the ,Toleranzpatent’ (Edict of Tolerance) granted Jews several important rights that they had been deprived of before: they were allowed to settle in royal free cities, rent land, engage in crafts and commerce, become members of guilds, etc. Joseph had several laws which didn’t help Jewish interests: he prohibited the use of Hebrew and Yiddish in business and public records, he abolished rabbinical jurisdiction and introduced liability for military service. A special decree ordered all the Jews to select a German family name for themselves. Joseph’s reign introduced some civic improvement into the life of the Jews in the Empire, and also supported cultural and linguistic assimilation. As a result, controversy arose between liberal-minded and orthodox Jews, which is considered the root cause of the schism between the Orthodox and the Neolog Jewry.

4 Von Schuschnigg, Kurt (1897-1977)

Austrian politician. During the years 1934-1938 Austrian Chancellor. Continued in Dollfuss politics. On 11th March 1938 Schuschnigg received an ultimatum from Hitler, to also accept Nazi politicians into his party, which he refused. The same day, Hitler ordered the Wehrmacht to enter Austrian territory. After the annexation of Austria, on 13th March 1938, Schuschnigg was jailed. After the war he lived in the USA from 1945-67. (Sources: Illustrated Encyclopedic Dictionary, Academia, Praha 1982, pg. 261; www.dws.ozone.pl)

5 Tobruk

harbor town in Libya on the Mediterranean Sea. During WWII heavy battles for Tobruk took place, in which together with the British Army Czech soldiers also participated. On 22nd January 1941 it was occupied by the British Army. On 21st June 1942, after a siege of several months, if was occupied by the Wehrmacht led by Field Marshal Rommel. On 12th-13th November it was again conquered by the British Army. (Source: Illustrated Encyclopedic Dictionary, Academia, Praha 1982, pg. 261)

6 Orthodox communities

The traditionalist Jewish communities founded their own Orthodox organizations after the Universal Meeting in 1868-1869. They organized their life according to Judaist principles and opposed to assimilative aspirations. The community leaders were the rabbis. The statute of their communities was sanctioned by the king in 1871. In the western part of Hungary the communities of the German and Slovakian immigrants’ descendants were formed according to the Western Orthodox principles. At the same time in the East, among the Jews of Galician origins the ‘eastern’ type of Orthodoxy was formed; there the Hassidism prevailed. In time the Western Orthodoxy also spread over to the eastern part of Hungary. 294 Orthodox mother-communities and 1,001 subsidiary communities were registered all over Hungary, mainly in Transylvania and in the north-eastern part of the country, in 1896. In 1930 30.4 % of Hungarian Jews belonged to 136 mother-communities and 300 subsidiary communities. This number increased to 535 Orthodox communities in 1944, including 242,059 believers (46 %).

7 Kashrut in eating habits

kashrut means ritual behavior. A term indicating the religious validity of some object or article according to Jewish law, mainly in the case of foodstuffs. Biblical law dictates which living creatures are allowed to be eaten. The use of blood is strictly forbidden. The method of slaughter is prescribed, the so-called shechitah. The main rule of kashrut is the prohibition of eating dairy and meat products at the same time, even when they weren’t cooked together. The time interval between eating foods differs. On the territory of Slovakia six hours must pass between the eating of a meat and dairy product. In the opposite case, when a dairy product is eaten first and then a meat product, the time interval is different. In some Jewish communities it is sufficient to wash out one’s mouth with water. The longest time interval was three hours – for example in Orthodox communities in Southwestern Slovakia.

8 Forced displacement of Germans

one of the terms used to designate the mass deportations of German occupants from Czechoslovakia which took place after WWII, during the years 1945-1946. Despite the fact that anti-German sentiments were common in Czech society after WWII, the origin of the idea of resolving post-war relations between Czechs and Sudeten Germans with mass deportations are attributed to President Edvard Benes, who gradually gained the Allies’ support for his intent. The deportation of Germans from Czechoslovakia, together with deportations related to a change in Poland’s borders (about 5 million Germans) was the largest post-war transfer of population in Europe. During the years 1945-46 more than 3 million people had to leave Czechoslovakia; 250,000 Germans with limited citizenship rights were allowed to stay. (Source:http://cs.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vys%C3%ADdlen%C3%AD_N%C4%9Bmc%C5%AF_z_%C4%8Ceskoslovenska)

9 Skoda Company

Car factory, the foundations of which were laid in 1895 by the mechanics V. Laurin and V. Klement with the production of Slavia bicycles. Just before the end of the 19th century they began manufacturing motor cycles and, in 1905, they started manufacturing automobiles. The name Skoda was introduced in 1925. Having survived economic difficulties, the company made a name for itself on the international market even within the constraints of the Socialist economy. In 1991 Skoda became a joint stock company in association with Volkswagen.

10 Sudetenland

Highly industrialized north-west frontier region that was transferred from the Austro-Hungarian Empire to the new state of Czechoslovakia in 1919. Together with the land a German-speaking minority of 3 million people was annexed, which became a constant source of tension both between the states of Germany, Austria and Czechoslovakia, and within Czechoslovakia. In 1935 a Nazi-type party, the Sudeten German Party financed by the German government, was set up. Following the Munich Agreement in 1938 German troops occupied the Sudetenland. In 1945 Czechoslovakia regained the territory and pogroms started against the German and Hungarian minority. The Potsdam Agreement authorized Czechoslovakia to expel the entire German and Hungarian minority from the country.

11 Hitlerjugend

The youth organization of the German Nazi Party (NSDAP). In 1936 all other German youth organizations were abolished and the Hitlerjugend was the only legal state youth organization. From 1939 all young Germans between 10 and 18 were obliged to join the Hitlerjugend, which organized after-school activities and political education. Boys over 14 were also given pre-military training and girls over 14 were trained for motherhood and domestic duties. After reaching the age of 18, young people either joined the army or went to work.

12 February 1948

Communist take-over in Czechoslovakia. The ‘people’s democracy’ became one of the Soviet satellites in Eastern Europe. The state apparatus was centralized under the leadership of the Czechoslovak Communist Party (KSC). In the economy private ownership was banned and submitted to central planning. The state took control of the educational system, too. Political opposition and dissident elements were persecuted.

13 Zapotocky, Antonin (1884-1957)

From 1921 a member of the Czechoslovak Communist Party (KSC), from1940-1945 imprisoned in the Sachsenhausen-Oranienburg concentration camp. 1945-1950 president of the Central Union Committee (URO), 1950-1953 member of the National Assembly (NS), 1948-1953 Prime Minister. From 21st March 1953 president of the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic.

14 Anti-Jewish laws in the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia

15 September 1938 mobilization

The ascent of the Nazis to power in Germany in 1933 represented a fundamental turning point in the foreign political situation of Czechoslovakia. The growing tension of the second half of the 1930s finally culminated in 1938, when the growing aggressiveness of neighboring Germany led first to the adoption of emergency measures from May 20th to June 22nd, and finally to the proclamation of a general mobilization on 23rd September 1938. At the end of September 1938, however, Czechoslovakia’s defense system, for years laboriously built up, collapsed. Czechoslovakia’s main ally, France, forced them to submit to Germany, and made no secret of the fact that they did not intend to provide military assistance. The support of the Soviet Union, otherwise in itself quite problematic, was contingent upon the support of France. Other countries, i.e. Hungary and Poland, were only waiting for the opportunity to gain something for themselves. (Source: http://www.military.cz/opevneni/mobilizace.html)

16 Yellow star – Jewish star in Protectorate

On 1st September 1941 an edict was issued according to which all Jews having reached the age of six were forbidden to appear in public without the Jewish star. The Jewish star is represented by a hand-sized, six-pointed yellow star outlined in black, with the word Jude in black letters. It had to be worn in a visible place on the left side of the article of clothing. This edict came into force on 19th September 1941. It was another step aimed at eliminating Jews from society. The idea’s author was Reinhard Heydrich himself.

17 Heydrichiade

Period of harsh reprisals against the Czech resistance movement and against the Czech nation under the German occupation (1939–45). It started in September 1941 with the appointment of R. Heydrich as Reichsprotektor of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, who declared martial law and executed the representatives of the local resistance. The Heydrichiade came to its peak after Heydrich’s assassination in May 1942. After his death, martial law was introduced until early July 1942, in the framework of which Czech patriots were executed and deported to concentration camps, and the towns of Lidice and Lezaky were annihilated. Sometimes the term Heydrichiade is used to refer to the period of martial law after Heydrich’s assassination.

18 Gulag

19 Sokol

One of the best-known Czech sports organizations. It was founded in 1862 as the first physical educational organization in the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. Besides regular training of all age groups, units organized sports competitions, colorful gymnastics rallies, cultural events including drama, literature and music, excursions and youth camps. Although its main goal had always been the promotion of national health and sports, Sokol also played a key role in the national resistance to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Nazi occupation and the communist regime. Sokol flourished between the two World Wars; its membership grew to over a million. Important statesmen, including the first two presidents of interwar Czechoslovakia, Tomas Masaryk and Edvard Benes, were members of Sokol. Sokol was banned three times: during World War I, during the Nazi occupation and finally by the communists after 1948, but branches of the organization continued to exist abroad. Sokol was restored in 1990.

20 Terezin Initiative Foundation (Nadace Terezinska iniciativa)

Founded in 1993 by the International Association of Former Prisoners of the Terezin/Theresienstadt Ghetto, it is a special institute devoted to the scientific research on the history of Terezin and of the ‘Final Solution of the Jewish Question’ in the Czech lands. At the end of 1998 it was renamed to Terezin Initiative Institute (Institut Terezinske iniciativy).

21 Subcarpathian Ruthenia

22 Nemcova, Bozena (1820–1862)

born Barbora Panklova in Vienna into the family of Johann Pankl, a nobleman’s coachman. She was significantly influenced by her upbringing at the hands of her grandmother Magdalena Novotna during the years 1825-29. In 1837 she was married to financial official Josef Nemec. She contributed to a number of magazines. She was inspired by traditional folk stories to write seven collections of folk tales and legends and ten collections of Slovak fairy-tales and legends, which are generally a gripping fictional adaptation of fairy-tale themes. Through her works Nemcova has to her credit the bringing together of the Czech and Slovak nations and their cultures. She is the author of travelogues and ethnographic sketches, realistic stories of the countryside (Crazy Bara, Mountain Village, Karla, The Teacher, At The Chateau and The Village Below) and the supreme novel Granny. Thanks to her rich folkloristic work and particularly her work Granny, Bozena Nemcova has taken her place among Czech national icons.

23 Statni Tajna Bezpecnost

Czech intelligence and security service founded in 1948.

24 Czech Scout Movement

The first Czech scout group was founded in 1911. In 1919 a number of separate scout organizations fused to form the Junak Association, into which all scout organizations of the Czechoslovak Republic were merged in 1938. In 1940 the movement was liquidated by a decree of the State Secretary. After WWII the movement revived briefly until it was finally dissolved in 1950. The Junak Association emerged again in 1968 and was liquidated in 1970. It was reestablished after the Velvet Revolution of 1989.

25 Radio Free Europe

Radio station launched in 1949 at the instigation of the US government with headquarters in West Germany. The radio broadcast uncensored news and features, produced by Central and Eastern European émigrés, from Munich to countries of the Soviet block. The radio station was jammed behind the Iron Curtain, team members were constantly harassed and several people were killed in terrorist attacks by the KGB. Radio Free Europe played a role in supporting dissident groups, inner resistance and will of freedom in the Eastern and Central European communist countries and thus it contributed to the downfall of the totalitarian regimes of the Soviet block. The headquarters of the radio have been in Prague since 1994.

26 Samizdat literature in Czechoslovakia

Samizdat literature: The secret publication and distribution of government-banned literature in the former Soviet block. Typically, it was typewritten on thin paper (to facilitate the production of as many carbon copies as possible) and circulated by hand, initially to a group of trusted friends, who then made further typewritten copies and distributed them clandestinely. Material circulated in this way included fiction, poetry, memoirs, historical works, political treatises, petitions, religious tracts, and journals. The penalty for those accused of being involved in samizdat activities varied according to the political climate, from harassment to detention or severe terms of imprisonment. In Czechoslovakia, there was a boom in Samizdat literature after 1948 and, in particular, after 1968, with the establishment of a number of Samizdat editions supervised by writers, literary critics and publicists: Petlice (editor L. Vaculik), Expedice (editor J. Lopatka), as well as, among others, Ceska expedice (Czech Expedition), Popelnice (Garbage Can) and Prazska imaginace (Prague Imagination).

27 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.

28 Solidarity (NSZZ Solidarnosc)

a social and political movement in Poland that opposed the authority of the PZPR. In its institutional form – the Independent Self-Governing Trade Union Solidarity (NSZZ Solidarnosc) – it emerged in August and September 1980 as a product of the turbulent national strikes. In that period trade union organization were being formed in all national enterprises and institutions; in all some 9–10 million people joined NSZZ Solidarnosc. Solidarity formulated a program of introducing fundamental changes to the system in Poland, and sought the fulfillment of its postulates by exerting various forms of pressure on the authorities: pickets in industrial enterprises and public buildings, street demonstrations, negotiations and propaganda. It was outlawed in 1982 following the introduction of Martial Law (on 13 December 1981), and until 1989 remained an underground organization, adopting the strategy of gradually building an alternative society and over time creating social institutions that would be independent of the PZPR (the long march). Solidarity was the most important opposition group that influenced the changes in the Polish political system in 1989.

29 Velvet Revolution

Also known as November Events, this term is used for the period between 17th November and 29th December 1989, which resulted in the downfall of the Czechoslovak communist regime. A non-violent political revolution in Czechoslovakia that meant the transition from Communist dictatorship to democracy. The Velvet Revolution began with a police attack against Prague students on 17th November 1989. That same month the citizen’s democratic movement Civic Forum (OF) in Czech and Public Against Violence (VPN) in Slovakia were formed. On 10th December a government of National Reconciliation was established, which started to realize democratic reforms. On 29th December Vaclav Havel was elected president. In June 1990 the first democratic elections since 1948 took place.

30 Havel, Vaclav (1936- )

31 Knazko, Milan (1945- )

Slovak actor, politician and director of TV JOJ. In October 1989 Knazko was the first and only person in the CSSR to return the title Meritorious Artist due to his disagreement with the politics of the regime at the time. In November 1989 he entered the political events of the time. He was an adviser to President Vaclav Havel and simultaneously a member of the CSFR’s Federal Assembly. From June 1990 to 28th August 1990 he was Minister of International Relations of the Slovak Republic and from 1992–1993 deputy premier of the government of the Slovak Republic and Slovak Foreign Minister. From March 1993 to October 1998 he was a member of the Slovak Republic’s National Assembly and for four years from the year 1998 held the post of Minister of Culture of the Slovak Republic. (Source: http://sk.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milan_K%C5%88a%C5%BEko)

32 Yad Vashem

This museum, founded in 1953 in Jerusalem, honors both Holocaust martyrs and ‘the Righteous Among the Nations’, non-Jewish rescuers who have been recognized for their ‘compassion, courage and morality’.

Eva Dušková

Eva Dušková
roz. Freyová
Praha
Česká republika
Rozhovor pořídila: Zuzana Strouhová
Období vzniku rozhovoru: srpen - září 2005

Paní Eva Dušková, rozená Freyová, žije se svým mužem Milanem Duškem, se kterým má dvě děti, v Praze. Je to velice přátelská, pohostinná paní, která se na život dívá s nadhledem a humorem. Navzdory svému židovskému původu a protikomunistickému smýšlení, ji v životě provázelo štěstí a přežila Terezín, Osvětim i Lenzing a během komunistického režimu mohla pracovat ve svém oboru, což nebývalo běžné. Celý produktivní život pracovala jako knihovnice na pražských akademických pracovištích. Přestože je v důchodu a po operaci kyčle, stále pracuje – vede knihovnu Institutu Terezínské iniciativy. Je věřící Židovka, nicméně ne ortodoxní.

Rodina

Dědeček z tatínkovy strany se jmenoval Julius Frey. Byl nesmírně chápající, dával mi, co mohl, tedy po té duševní stránce. Místo pohádek mi vykládal biblickou dějepravu, takovým velmi zajímavým způsobem. Dovedla jsem u něj sedět hodiny a poslouchat ho. Narodil se 1. dubna 1866 v Dolních Kounicích u Brna. Vystudoval reálku, ale kde přesně, to nevím. Jeho mateřským jazykem byla čeština spolu s němčinou a to proto, že pocházel od Brna. V Brně a kolem Brna se hodně mluvilo německy. Se mnou mluvil jenom česky, ale bylo vidět, že ten základ měl německý. Ale Němec to nebyl, ačkoliv má německé jméno. Josef II. 1 dal totiž Židům různé svobody a za to museli přijmout různá německá jména. A slyšela jsem, že snad to jméno Frey nebo Frei znamená svobodný, čili že nebyl v nějakém, řekněme, poddaném postavení.

Kdy z Dolních Kounic odešel do zaměstnání netuším, to se ke mně nikdy nedoneslo. Ani jsem se o to samozřejmě nikdy nezajímala. Zaměstnaný byl u dráhy, jako přednosta, nikde jinde asi ne. Pracoval na různých místech, mezi nimi také v Pardubicích, kde se narodil můj tatínek Viktor Frey, v Dobrovicích u Mladé Boleslavi a určitě ještě někde jinde, ale to už si nepamatuji. Jejich hospodyně Marie mně to sice vykládala, ale já jsem si to nezapamatovala. Pak se s babičkou Hermínou, za svobodna Breitenfeldovou, přestěhoval na penzi do Litomyšle. Babička totiž z Litomyšle pocházela a měla tam v té době ještě maminku a bratra. Její rodina tam vlastnila dosti význačný dům, rohový renesanční dům naproti radnici, čili uprostřed náměstí. Jejich obývací pokoj byl v místě, kde kdysi bydlel Jiráskův páter German President [German President (1780 – 1895): profesor piaristických škol, známý z „Filosofské historie“ Aloise Jiráska - pozn.red.]. Navíc to byla v celém domě jediná místnost, kde bylo klenutí, křížová klenba. V tom domě žilo několik generací předků mé babičky. Ale v té době se také vdávala maminčina sestra Marie a maminčin otec Rudolf Finger jim dal postavit dům pro dvě rodiny, takovou vilu. A tam bydlela maminka a její sestra, obě s rodinami.

Jak jsem říkala, dědeček s babičkou měli hospodyni, jmenovala se Marie Kučerová. Babička totiž měla silnou cukrovku, takže toho mnoho nezastala. Ta hospodyně, to byla taková moje zachránkyně, protože po válce se mě ujala a o otci, který zahynul v koncentračním táboře, mi hodně vyprávěla. Služebná byla i v rodině mých rodičů. Bylo jich u nás zřejmě několik, ale já si pamatuji pouze na Anču. Ta měla u nás takový pokojíček. O mě se starala maminka, služebné měly na starost spíše úklid a praní prádla. Maminka i vařila.

Jestli byl dědeček z tatínkovy strany v armádě, to Vám neřeknu, protože dědečka z tatínkovy strany si pamatuji pouze v železničářské uniformě. Tedy pamatuji si na fotografie v železničářské uniformě. Ale o válce se tam, alespoň co si pamatuji, nemluvilo. Ale zdá se mi, že v první světové válce byl. Maminčin tatínek tam byl zcela jistě. Ve druhé světové válce dědeček zemřel a to 28. dubna 1943 v Terezíně 2, kam odjel s litomyšlským transportem 2. prosince 1942. Zemřel na stáří a prostatu, samozřejmě špatně léčenou.

Dědeček pocházel ze šesti sourozenců. Bylo to, tuším, pět bratrů a jedna sestra, Anna. Ta se nevdala, zůstala v Dolních Kounicích u Brna v té jejich rodné chaloupce. Byl to takový domeček, kde byl jeden parádní pokoj – takový veliký, snad poněkud lépe zařízený – pak jeden malý pokoj a černá kuchyň. Žádná větší usedlost to nebyla, měli jen krásnou, meruňkovou zahradu. A tam v těch stísněných prostorech vychovali dědečkovi rodiče šest dětí. Nic víc o dědečkových rodičích nevím, jen, že dědečkův tatínek se prý živil půjčováním peněz. O vzdělání té Anny Freyové, ani o její zaměstnání, jsem se nikdy nezajímala a co si pamatuji, nikdy nikde se o tom nemluvilo. Žila sama v oněch Dolních Kounicích, děti neměla. Občas v průběhu roku jezdívala k dědečkovi a babičce a my jsme za ní jezdívali na prázdniny. To bylo takové nejoblíbenější místo našich výletů. Protože bychom se tam všichni nevešli, tak jsme bydlívali v blízkém hotelu. Anna byla taková typická stará panna, ale velice hodná. V tom parádním pokoji měla hrací obraz, který mně, když jsem byla moc hodná, pustila. Co na něm bylo, to nevím, byl to prostě nějaký obraz, zřejmě se to natáhlo a ono to hrálo. Také si pamatuji, že jsme se chodívali koupat do blízké řeky a že jsem si tam hrávala s místními dětmi, sobota nesobota [religiózne židovské zákony zakazujú počas soboty, šabatu, základných 39 pracovných činností, ktoré sú zahrnuté do Talmudu, a ostatné činnosti, ktoré sú od nich odvodené. Medzi ne patrí napríklad aj plávanie – pozn. red.]. A protože tatínek měl v té době už auto, tak nás někdy naložil a vzal do Brna. Anna zahynula v Terezíně, ale kdy, to Vám zpaměti neřeknu, to by se dalo zjistit v Terezínské pamětní knize.

Nejmladším dědečkovým bratrem byl Josef, ten žil ve Vídni – z Brna je to kousek, zřejmě tam odešel za prací a už tam zůstal. Jeho syn Michael, mimochodem, žije dosud ve Švédsku. Kdy se Josef narodil, nevím, a už se toho nedopídím. Ale pamatuji si, že zemřel na dědečkovy narozeniny, 1. dubna. Ale rok už taky nevím, zřejmě na začátku války nebo těsně před jejím začátkem. Jakou práci ve Vídni měl, to nevím, já jsem ho nikdy neviděla. Josef byl ženatý, jméno jeho ženy neznám, jen vím, že se narodila v Osvětimi, to prý bývalo docela slušné městečko v Polsku. Měli spolu dva syny, jeden, který již umřel, byl asi tak ve věku mé maminky Markéty Fingerové – ta byla rozená 1909 - a jmenoval se Eli. Zřejmě jako Elias. Ten mladší, který je ročník 1922, se jmenuje Michael a žije ve Švédsku. Tam se dostal velice zajímavou cestou. Dědečkův bratr Josef se nějak zamíchal do politiky a když byla Schuschnigg aféra 3 ve Vídni, což byl nějaký politický převrat, tak on na to nějak doplatil. Ale to jsou pouze dětské vzpomínky, po válce už mně o tom nemohl nikdo nic říct. Josef brzy ovdověl, zůstal sám se dvěma syny a nakonec spáchal sebevraždu. Jeho starší syn, Eli, emigroval, zřejmě do Palestiny. Toho mladšího, tehdy patnáctiletého, dali do Litomyšle k dědečkovi a babičce. Rodina se pak zkrátka rozhodla, že aby mu zajistila život a existenci, tak ho pošle do Palestiny za bratrem. Jenže on se po celou dobu války s bratrem nesetkal - přestože se vzájemně hledali, nenašli se. Přestože byli oba ve stejné armádě, anglické armádě a oba bojovali u Tobruku 4. Teprve když byl konec války, přišel tenhleten Michl – tak jsme Michaelovi říkali - služebně do nějaké vojenské kanceláře, ale kde to bylo, nevím, a tam uviděl svého bratra. Teprve tehdy se setkali. Michael pak někde na nádraží potkal svou budoucí ženou, která také pocházela z Vídně a kterou rodiče zachránili tím, že ji poslali do Švédska. Jak to bylo přesně dál, nevím, myslím, že se oba vrátili do Palestiny, zřejmě za její rodinou. Ale potom tam měli dvě děti a to jedno dítě nějak nesnášelo tamější klima, takže vzhledem k tomu, že už byla zvyklá žít ve Švédsku, přestěhovali se tam. Michl tam byl zaměstnaný u novin, ale myslím, že tam dělal spíš nějakou podřadnější práci. Myslím nějakou administrativní.

Ve Vídni žil ještě další dědečkův bratr, Arnold. Na něj si pamatuji z Terezína, on i jeho žena tam na mě byli velice hodní. Co ve Vídni dělal, nevím, ale myslím, že to tam nijak daleko nepřivedl. Do Terezína šel tenkrát s vídeňským transportem i se svou manželkou. O ní nevím vůbec nic, ani její jméno, jen že byla moc hodná. Já jsem je poznala prakticky, až když chodili navštěvovat do nemocnice tatínka. Když už tatínek končil svůj život. Myslím, že to byla Rakušanka, protože se s ní mluvilo pouze německy. Ani nevím, jestli měli nějaké děti. Jeho manželka ušetřila nějaký kousek chleba a ještě nějaký lógr nebo něco takového a udělali mně z toho k narozeninám – no, ne dort, ale takový zákusek. Což mě velice potěšilo. Takže to byl můj favorit.

Pak tu byl ještě jeden bratr, ten žil v Praze. Ale jak ten se jmenoval, to nevím. My jsme se s těmi pražskými moc nestýkali, jen občas, když jsme byli v Praze, jsme je byli navštívit. Jestli oni byli někdy v Litomyšli, to nevím. Myslím, že to byl obchodník a že měl dceru nebo snad dvě dcery, které emigrovaly někam do Skotska. Ale neznám jejich jména, z jejich osudu neznám nic. Asi byl i v Terezíně, ale o něm opravdu nic nevím. A myslím, že dědeček měl ještě jednoho bratra, ale o něm nevím vůbec nic.

Babička z otcovy strany se jmenovala Hermína, rozená Breitenfeldová. Narodila se 12. září 1875 v Litomyšli. Zahynula 15. prosince 1943 v Osvětimi, kam jela prosincovým transportem. Babička byla moc hodná, ale byla takový trochu nevýrazný typ. Mám dojem, že jsem po ní. A na rozdíl od dědečka neuměla vykládat pohádky. Jaké vzdělání měla, to nevím, a co se zaměstnání týká, asi byla v domácnosti. Potom však vedla svému svobodnému bratrovi, strýčkovi Karlovi, obchod s látkami v Litomyšli, v onom domě. Strýček Karel byl totiž bohém, zpěvák, a věnoval se spíše zpívání než obchodu. Takže tatínkova maminka byla v podstatě obchodnice, i když špatná obchodnice. Lidem dávala na dluh a nikdy to nechtěla splácet. Prý: „Dáte mně to, až budete mít.“ No, myslím, že většinou už nedávali.

Ten obchod s látkami, jak jsem říkala, patřil jejímu bratrovi Karlovi, ale ten se mu moc nevěnoval. Neslušelo se, aby se dítě z dobré rodiny věnovalo profesnímu zpívání. Takže alespoň navenek byl obchodníkem - to byly takové móresy tehdejší doby - ale ve skutečnosti byl členem a zřejmě sólistou pěveckého sboru Vlastimil, které hrálo v litomyšlském divadle a zřejmě i jinde, ale to nevím. Strýček Karel zemřel, když mně bylo osm let, tj. ještě před válkou, ve třicátém osmém. Také zpíval v Daliborovi roli žalářníka, když v Litomyšli Národní divadlo Dalibora provozovalo. Dá se tedy asi říci, že musel být dobrý zpěvák, prý ano.

Co se židovství týče, naše rodina, hlavně z otcovy strany, byla nábožensky založená, věřící. Ne snad ortodoxní, jak se to teď tady [v Praze] propaguje k mé, jaksi, nelibosti. Většinou šlo o Židy asimilované, kteří ale svou víru praktikovali.

Můj dědeček byl velmi nábožensky založený a jeho sourozenci také. Například jeho sestra Anna, ta, co bydlela v Kounicích u Brna, velice dbala na dodržování svátků a všech těchto věcí a dokonce byla velice pyšná na to, že náš rod pocházel z rodu kohanim [kněží, členové kmene Levi, potomci Árona a jeho synů, kteří byli pověřeni provádením posvátných ritů ve stanu úmluvy a Chrámu, hebrejsky kohen, kohanim – pozn. red.]. Jednou mně řekla: „Evičko, pamatuj si, že ty jsi princezna.“ To je jediné, co si pamatuji, že mi řekla. Silně věřící byl i otcův bratr. Vzhledem k tomu, že sám neměl rodinu, tak svátky slavil s námi. Dědečkova rodina byla vůbec dosti nábožensky zaměřena, u jeho rodičů, v těch Kounicích u Brna, se, pokud vím, ještě držela košer strava a zřejmě měli i dvojí nádobí 5. Ale nijak viditelně oblečením se od nežidovského obyvatelstva neodlišovali, i oni, byť nábožensky cítící, byli velmi asimilováni. Navíc kipa se snad tehdy ještě ani nenosila. Ovšem klobouk, ten on nosil na hlavě samozřejmě stále.

Dědeček s babičkou si nikdy nevybírali přátele jen mezi Židy. Navíc můj velmi zbožný dědeček každou sobotu odpoledne hrál taroky s panem katechetou Letfusem. Rozhodně se nijak nesnažil jeden druhého přesvědčovat. To znáte ten vtip: Pan farář se ptá pana rabína: „Kdy si konečně ochutnáte kousek vepřového?“ A on řekne: „Na Vaší svatbě.“

Naopak v maminčině rodině se židovství praktikovalo jen vlažně. Řekla bych, že dědeček i babička z maminčiny strany chodili do synagogy ze společenských důvodů, u nich jsme svátky nikdy neslavili. Pokud vím, ani nikdy nezapalovali šabatové svíčky. O Bohu jsme se tam také nikdy nebavili. A myslím, že ani babiččin bratr Karel nebyl nijak nábožensky založený. Tam ale nemohu říci ani tak, ani onak. Sama maminka byla nábožensky vlažnější než tatínek. Například mě klidně nechala psát v sobotu [religiózne židovské zákony zakazujú počas soboty, šabatu, základných 39 pracovných činností, ktoré sú zahrnuté do Talmudu, a ostatné činnosti, ktoré sú od nich odvodené. Medzi ne patrí napríklad aj písanie – pozn. red.]. Všech náboženských obřadů se zúčastňovala spíše z pocitů morální povinnosti a ne zas až tak z přesvědčení. Její sestra Marie s manželem chodili do synagogy taky spíše ze společenských důvodů, aby si společensky nezadali. Dokonce si pamatuji, že se můj strýc, Otto Sgall, jednou velmi rozčílil, když ho volali k Tóře. Zřejmě nechtěl nebo neuměl Tóru číst a nechtěl si zadat, protože on se jako pan továrník cítil společensky velmi na výši. On byl totiž majitelem velkoobchodu s textilem.

Dědeček z maminčiny strany se jmenoval Rudolf Finger. Narodil se 26. února 1877 v Kozolupech na Plzeňsku. Jeho mateřským jazykem byla němčina, protože byl od Plzně. Tam bylo zvykem mluvit německy. Ale pravděpodobně se považovali za Čechy. Mám dojem, že při sčítání lidu v roce dvacet devět nebo třicet [sčítaní lidu v roce 1930 – pozn. red.], se hlásil k české národnosti. Se mnou mluvil česky vždycky. On byl jediný, o kterém bezpečně vím, že bojoval v první světové válce, ale netuším kde nebo kdy, ani nic bližšího. Dědeček byl na rozdíl od tatínkova tatínka, který byl úředník tělem a duší, obchodník tělem a duší. Byl to vyučený obchodník s kuchyňským a železářským zbožím a živil se jako obchodník – měl železářství. Nějakou dobu žil v České Lípě, kde se narodila maminka a její sourozenci. Asi se mu tam tenkrát naskytla nějaká možnost obchodu. Zanedlouho se však stěhovali zpět do Litomyšle. Nevím, jestli se jim v České Lípě dobře nevedlo, nebo proč, prostě tam nějakým způsobem nebyli spokojení. Stěhovali se rozhodně ještě dlouho před penzí, protože ten obchod v Litomyšli měl ještě do začátku války, než mu ho zabrali. Když vypukla druhá světová válka, šel dědeček i s babičkou zářijovým transportem (1943) do Terezína, alespoň myslím. No a oba skončili 7. března 1944 v Osvětimi.

Dědeček Rudolf měl několik sourozenců. Vím, že existovala nějaká teta Emily a určitě ještě někdo, ale oni žili až tam někde na Plzeňsku, což bylo dost daleko.

Babička z matčiny strany se jmenovala Irma Fingerová, rozená Ledererová. Narodila se 23. května 1884 a zahynula společně s dědečkem v Osvětimi onoho 7. března 1944. Narodila se zřejmě v Litomyšli, protože ta větev byla jaksi v Litomyšli hloubkově zarostlá. Po přeslici. Jejím rodným jazykem byla čeština, tam zase všichni mluvili česky, i když německy samozřejmě všichni uměli. Celou dobu žila v Litomyšli, kromě těch několika let v České Lípě, které tam strávila se svým mužem a kde se narodila má matka. Babička byla na vychování v klášteře, ačkoli byla samozřejmě také Židovka. Brzy totiž ztratila otce a o ni a o dalších pět dětí se musela starat moje prababička se svou bezdětnou sestrou. Irmu tedy daly jako nejstarší dceru do kláštera na vychování. Nevím kam, jen vím, že se tam naučila různé krásné ruční práce a vedení domácnosti. Pletla, vyšívala, háčkovala, síťovala a nevím, co ještě. Jestli se jí tam nesnažily vštípit i něco z křesťanství, to netuším, mě to tenkrát totiž nezajímalo. Mimochodem tahle moje babička byla velmi, velmi inteligentní a měla známost s nějakým lékařem. Ale tenkrát si ho nesměla vzít, protože jeho matka nedovolila, aby se s babičkou oženil. Babička byla totiž z celkem chudého prostředí a nedostala žádné věno. Proto si dědečka v podstatě vzala jako z nouze ctnost.

Dědeček byl velmi přísný a autoritativní, myslím že v něm zůstalo něco z vojáka a babička to prostě snášela. Také byla mimo jiné nesmírný psycholog. Pamatuji se na jednu epizodu, kdy nějak na začátku války si museli rodiče toho mého bratránka Milánka Sgalla odjet vyřídit nějaké vízové nebo jaké záležitosti, zřejmě do Prahy. Prostě, když měl Milánek 5. května narozeniny, nebyli tam. Babička Irma to vyřešila tak, že s ním šla do obchodu a něco mu koupila, nějaký dárek, ale jaký, to už nevím. Ale aby mi to nebylo líto, tak mně nějakou maličkost taky koupila. Jenže dědeček byl velice šetrný a babičce vyčinil, proč mi něco kupovala, když nemám narozeniny. Myslím, že to vystihuje mentalitu těch dvou lidí.

Jak jsem říkala, babička Irma pocházela ze šesti dětí, z nichž ona byla nejstarší. Měla dva bratry, Jana a Karla, a tři sestry Zdenku, Terezii a Olgu. Všichni zemřeli v Osvětimi, data by se dala zjistit v Terezínské pamětní knize.

Strýček Jeník – tak se mu říkalo, maminčin bratr Jan byl Jenda a babiččin bratr Jan byl zase Jeník. Byl to invalida z první světové války. V Litomyšli měl spolu se svou ženou Růženou obchod s konfekcí. Byli však bezdětní. Moc si však na ně nepamatuji, ačkoliv jsme bydleli v Litomyšli na stejném podloubí, neboli na podsíni, a chodívali jsme se navštěvovat. Možná jsme i jezdili na společné výlety, v té rodině totiž byly dobré, pevné vztahy.

Teta Zdeňka byla vdaná, ale bezdětná. Říkalo se cosi o tom, že její manžel – Maďar Dezső Adler - byl nakažen, takže nemohli mít děti.

Nejmladším bratrem byl strýc Karel, říkalo se mu Karílek. Ten bydlel se svou sestrou Olgou – ta zase byla nejmladší sestrou - v Žamberku, kde měli nějakou výrobu textilu. Bydleli tam vlastně na jednom pozemku ve vedlejších domech. Strýc Karel byl ženatý a měl syna Františka, který byl mnohem mladší než já. Tomu se říkalo Áťa. No a Olga měla tři dcery - Vlastu, Věru a Evu. Vlasta skončila se svým chlapečkem Petříčkem v Osvětimi. A Věra a Eva přežily, a to velmi kuriózním způsobem.

Věra byla tehdy vdaná, ale nevím už za koho. Eva byla svobodná, ale seznámila se s chlapcem jménem Freda, neboli Alfréd. Ti všichni šli společně do Terezína. V Terezíně si Eva toho Fredu vzala a přišla do jiného stavu. Věřin manžel odjel do Osvětimi a zřejmě tam zahynul. Věra šla za ním, ale již ho nikdy neviděla. Do Osvětimi šel později i Freda a Eva, ta chtěla být s ním. No, ale když tam přišla, tak na ní Mengele poznal, že je gravidní a okamžitě ji poslal na druhou stranu komína, jestli znáte tenhleten termín, neboli do plynu. Eva byla velice fyzicky zdatná, tak ten „komín“ přeskočila a čirou náhodou se dostala dohromady s Věrou, která tam již byla. Potom byly převezeny – bylo jich pět děvčat - do pracovního tábora Merzdorf [poľsky Marciszów, obec v Dolnom Sliezku. Počas 2. svetovej vojny sa v Merzdorfe nachádzala jedna z pobočiek koncentračného tábora Gross Rosen. Tábor bol oslobodený 8. mája 1945 – pozn. red.]. Těsně předtím, než se jí narodil chlapeček, Tomík – to bylo 20. března 1945 - přišel do Merzdorfu Mengele a zeptal se jí: „Proč ses nepřiznala, že jsi gravidní?“ A ona na to: „Já jsem to nevěděla“. No, ale pochopitelně, že to věděla. V Merzdorfu se prý narodilo několik dětí a žádné z nich nepřežilo - kromě tohoto Tomíka. Když se narodil, tak si každá z těch pěti děvčat utrhla kus ze svých šatů a do toho ho zabalily. Narodil se někde v umývárně nebo ve chlévě, něco takového, to už nevím přesně. Když byl konec války, tak Němci odešli a přišla tam Rudá armáda. Ovšem ta děvčata z nich měla strach, tak toho chlapečka sebrala a šla celý den pěšky, až večer přišla k nějakému statku, k nějakému opuštěnému stavení. Tam prý nebylo dole vůbec nic a nahoře v prvním patře byl dětský kočárek s dětskou výbavičkou. No, to snad ani nebyla náhoda, to byl spíš zázrak. Takže chlapečka do toho okamžitě oblékly a s kočárkem odjely pěšky zase směrem k domovu. Když se dostaly až do Žamberka, tak tam už nastoupili k moci komunisté a nechtěli je ani pustit do jejich původního domu, místo toho je nastěhovali do takového malého přízemního domečku. Shodou okolností se vrátil také ten Evin muž, Freda, a jeho bratr Egon, který byl svobodný, a spolu s nimi i jejich matka. Věra už věděla, že se její muž nevrátí, s tím Egonem se do sebe zamilovali a vzali se. Ale s těmi komunisty měli hrozné problémy, bylo to dost napínavé. Odřezali jim vodu, odřezali jim telefon a ještě se prý rozhodli, že když se dítě vlastně narodilo v Německu [v čase narodenia Tomíka patril Merzdorf k nemeckej ríši – pozn. red.], čili je to německý státní občan, takže je nutno ho odsunout 6. Dalo jim mnoho práce, než se z toho nějak dostali. Mezi tím se Evě v sedmačtyřicátém narodil ještě syn Petr. No, nakonec se rozhodli, že chtějí odejít někam co nejdál od naší republiky. Nejprve emigrovali oni, do Austrálie, zatímco babička těch mládenců, Anna Jelínková, bydlela nějaký čas u nás. Potom odjela za nimi. Mimochodem, obě děvčata, Eva i Věra, odjížděly do Austrálie už gravidní a v Austrálii se potom každé narodilo ještě jedno dítě. Kromě Fredy dodnes všichni v Austrálii žijí, blízko Melbourne. Alespoň doufám, už dlouho jsem od nich neslyšela žádnou zprávu. A z Tomíka se stal doktor přírodních věd a založil v Austrálii rodinu.

Poslední babiččinou sestrou byla Terezie, té se říkalo Teruša. Teruša byla dvakrát vdaná, přičemž poprvé ovdověla. O jejích manželích ale nevím nic. Z prvního manželství měla dceru Lily a z druhého manželství syna Arne. Všichni zůstali v Osvětimi.

Moje maminka s tatínkem bydleli od dětství na stejném podloubí, či lépe na stejné straně podloubí, kterému se v Litomyšli říká podsíň. Moje maminka se seznámila s mým tatínkem, když mamince bylo pět a tatínkovi třináct. Maminka si chodila hrát do sousedního krámu s holčičkou, která měla bratra, s nímž kamarádil můj tatínek. Ona byla Anička Ježková, on František. Ti Ježkovi měli pekařství a maminka si s tou Aničkou, která byla hrbatá, hrály na pekařských válech. No a přišli tam ti mládenci, mladí muži, že, už třináctiletí, a chtěli zaujmout palebné postavení na těchž válech. Na tu Aničku, hrbatou chudinku, si nikdo netroufl, a tak se můj tatínek seznámil s mojí maminkou slovy: „Jedeš, ty parchante, z toho válu dolů“. Maminka asi nebyla daleko odpovědi, protože byla vždycky velmi pohotová. Ale její odpověď už jsem od nikoho nikdy neslyšela. Mimochodem z mého tatínka vyrostl velice noblesní pán.

V roce 1928, tuším, jel dědeček s tatínkem slavit seder k tomu strýčkovi Josefovi do Vídně. A protože obě rodiny byly už dávno, po celé generace, spřátelené, tak tam pozvali i maminku a jejího tatínka. No a když bylo uprostřed té oslavy, nebo snad na jejím konci, nevím přesně, tak tatínek obřadně vstal a požádal maminčina tatínka o maminčinu ruku. Myslím, že maminka byla zaskočená, ale že proti tomu vůbec nic nenamítala.

Co ale nemohu pochopit je, že měli svatbu na okresním úřadě v Litomyšli, tedy pouze civilní. Což by mamince ani vadit nemuselo, protože ona nebyla tak nábožensky založená, ale tatínkovi. Proč se takto brali, na to jsem se vždycky chtěla zeptat, ale nikdy jsem se k tomu nedostala, což je mně dodnes líto. Brali se v květnu 1929 a maminka neměla na sobě ani bílé šaty. Zásnuby měli velké, zato svatbu naprosto malou. A po svatbě jí prý tatínkova maminka řekla: „A teď jsi naše a půjdeš k nám na oběd.“ Takže i svatební hostinu udělali u tatínkových rodičů. Ale možná proto, že ty zásnuby byly takové „slavné“, tak ta svatba měla být již jen úředním stvrzením. Ale to opravdu nevím.

Co se povahy týká, můj tatínek byl velmi demokratický. Maminka, ta mě měla denně od rána do večera na starosti, takže ta musela být přísnější, že. Sem tam nějakou fackou nešetřila. Kdežto tatínek mně byl vzácnější, protože přijížděl domů někdy jen na víkend. A to se mně pak velice věnoval. Od něj jsem dostala jen jednu jedinou facku, a to když jsem byla už velice rozjívená a roztrhala jsem na něm košili.

Tatínek rád fotografoval – to jsem zdědila po něm - maminka se fotografování, myslím, nevěnovala. Taky myslím, že, stejně jako oni, ráda cestuji. Jinak jsem vždy obdivovala tatínkovu moudrou vyrovnanou povahu, zatímco maminka byla spíše výbušnější, což si mi nelíbilo, to jsem tíže nesla. Jinak oba byli velice společenští, chodívali do kina, do divadel, na koncerty a vůbec prostě do společnosti. A společnost chodila k nám. Mívali jsme hodně návštěv. Maminka byla dobrá kuchařka, takže ačkoliv jsme normálně žili skromně, když přišla návštěva, vždycky je pohostila, jak se sluší a patří. Nikdy nerozlišovali jestli je ten člověk Žid nebo není, takhle se to naprosto nebralo. Tatínek měl, myslím, hlavně intelektuální známé. Třeba přednostu soudu, nebo zubního lékaře, advokáta. Maminka se přizpůsobila a myslím, že s chutí. Často nás též navštěvovali dědeček s babičkou, kteří bydleli v onom domě na náměstí. To nebylo od nás nijak daleko, Litomyšl není velké město a v té době mělo asi pět tisíc obyvatel [podle Českého statistického úřadu, byl počet obyvatel Litomyšle při ščítání lidu v roce 1921 – 8,737 a v roce 1930 – 8,638 – pozn. red.]. A ještě častěji jsme možná my chodili k nim.

Můj tatínek se jmenoval Viktor Frey. Narodil se 10. dubna 1901 v Pardubicích a zemřel 23. června 1944 v Terezíně. Měl dva akademické tituly, byl to inženýr a doktor technických věd. Vystudoval v Praze strojní fakultu. Jeho rodným jazykem byla čeština. Myslím, že tatínek sympatizoval se sociálními demokraty, s tou pravou částí. Nebyl členem, ale měl velmi silné sociální cítění. A byl členem spolku inženýrů architektů, takzvané SIA. Jinak žádných organizací nebo klubů, pokud vím, členem nebyl a ani nikdo jiný z rodiny.

Otec žil tam, kam překládali jeho tatínka, který, jak jsem říkala, pracoval na dráze. Ona hospodyně byla u tatínkových rodičů už v jeho dětství a vyprávěla mně i o tom, jak vyrůstal, ale já si nic konkrétního nepamatuji. Fyzicky byl dost neobratný, takže fotbal asi nehrával, nevím. No, určitě si ale hrával se svým kamarádem na pekařském válu. Jinak pak se věnoval studiu a vědě. Střední školu vystudoval, myslím, již v Litomyšli. Byla to reálka.

V armádě nikdy nebyl a to ze zdravotních důvodů: měl totiž ploché nohy. Po absolutoriu vysoké školy pracoval nejprve jako asistent na technice [České vysoké učení technické v Praze – pozn. red.], protože vystudoval nějak velice dobře a velice brzy. Ale když se rozhodl, že se ožení, snažil se najít si nějaké lépe placené místo. A přešel do Škodovky v Plzni 7. Tam pracoval jako strojní inženýr. Měl prý nějaký projekt, který chtěl patentovat, a oni to od něj chtěli koupit. Jenže tatínek jim to prodat nechtěl, oni se na něj rozzlobili a dali mu výpověď. Načež tatínek asi šest neděl hledal místo. Po šesti nedělích mu někdo dohodil místo v mostecké ocelárně jménem Isteg - ta už prý teď neexistuje. Tam měl zastoupení ocelárny po celé republice, kromě Prahy, pro ni měli zvláštního zástupce.

Tatínek měl v práci možnost služebního auta, takže jsme toho hojně využívali a jezdívali jsme na různé výlety. Nejen do Brna, ale i do Žamberka a tak, dost jsme to střídali. Nebo jsme chodili na různé pěší výlety do blízkého okolí se společností – s otcovými přáteli. To jsme šli vždycky do speciální hospody a tam si rodiče dali pivo a olomoucké syrečky. Ale na památky jsme šli samozřejmě taky. Byli jsme i v cizině, v jugoslávské Crikvenici [město Crikvenica se nachází v Chorvatsku – pozn. red.]. To bylo v třicátém šestém. Pamatuji si, že jsem se tam naučila plavat – navíc jsem byla poprvé u moře - a že jsem tam dostala angínu. A že jsem si chtěla šít na panenky a maminka měla s sebou pouze nůžky na manikúru. Po válce jsem se pak dala na skauting a táboření, takže na výlety jsem jezdila i v dospělosti. Jako dítě jsem ale na žádném táboře nebyla.

V Istegu pracoval tatínek až do záboru Sudet 8. Ale protože tatínek nechtěl, abych v Mostě dýchala špatný vzduch [Most bývalo město se silnou koncentrací těžkého průmyslu a tedy se špatným životním prostředím - pozn.red.], přestěhovali jsme se k rodině do Litomyšle. Takže pak do Mostu dojížděl, eventuálně byl s nimi v telefonickém styku vzhledem k tomu, že vlastně pracoval po celé republice. V Litomyšli jsme bydleli až do transportu do Terezína. Když začala válka, musel tatínek, protože byl židovského původu, dělat jenom pomocného dělníka. Ale tenkrát ho zaměstnal jeho přítel, který měl továrnu na sekací stroje. Oficiálně tam tenkrát tedy pracoval jako dělník, ale ve skutečnosti mu dělal na ty jeho sekací stroje návrhy. V průběhu času zemřel v Litomyšli předseda Židovské obce a tatínka jmenovali, nebo zvolili, to přesně nevím, předsedou litomyšlské obce. A tam byl až do deportace.

Za války

Konkrétně proběhla deportace litomyšlských Židů 3. prosince 1942, nejprve do Pardubic a 5. prosince z Pardubic do Terezína. Ale jelikož byl tatínek předsedou židovské obce, tak to tam musel všechno jaksi zlikvidovat, a proto zůstal se svou nejbližší rodinou, tj. s maminkou a se mnou v Litomyšli o tři dny déle. Do Pardubic jsme odjížděli až 6. prosince a z Pardubic do Terezína 9. prosince s lidmi z Pardubic město. Jinak Litomyšl odjížděla s Pardubicemi venkov.

Jak jsem říkala, tatínek v Terezíně zemřel. Můj otec byl dost silný kuřák, a proto neměl dost odolný organismus. V Terezíně se dostal k technickým službám, a když byla takzvaná kasernensperre, neboli zakázaný východ z kasáren, on mohl chodit venku po ghettu a využíval ty služební pochůzky, aby chodil za svým tatínkem a za mnou. Já totiž tehdy bývala často nemocná, angíny a tak, a jeho tatínek už vlastně také končil svůj život. Můj tatínek tenkrát přechodil chřipku a když dědeček zemřel, on sám ulehl s chřipkou. Ale nebyly žádné léky a jeho organismus nebyl dost odolný. Potom dostal zánět pohrudnice a po čtrnácti měsících skončil na rychlou tuberkulózu.

Můj otec měl o tři roky mladšího bratra Františka, který pracoval jako celní deklarant ve stanici Frýdek-Místek. Během války se ale strýček přestěhoval do Litomyšle. Velice se mně věnoval, naučil mě mimo jiné jezdit na kole, a tak jsme spolu jezdili po nejbližších vesnicích, kam až se smělo [dané omezení se vztahovalo pouze na Židy - pozn.red.]. Nikdo jiný s námi ale nejezdil. Kolo jsem měla již od osmi let. Tenkrát jsme možná jezdívali i na nějaké delší trasy, ale sama jsem tak daleko už nejezdila. Na kole jsem jezdívala velmi dlouho, ale spíš v Litomyšli, po Praze vůbec ne. Vždycky, když jsem přijela v létě do Litomyšle, tak jsem dopoledne pomáhala mamince, po obědě si šla maminka lehnout a já jsem si na kole vyjela na plovárnu.Vykoupala jsem se, osušila se a jela jsem zase zpátky. Litomyšl nemá městskou hromadnou dopravu, tam lidé jezdívají na kole dost. V Praze jezdívali na kolech jen moje děti, jen ony tu ostatně kola měly. Syn Petr dodnes i s dětmi na kole jezdí. A s manželkou předtím jezdíval i na delší trasy. Dcera Hana dnes již nejezdí a já také ne, kvůli poškozené noze.

Strýček byl svobodný, ale proslýchalo se, že byl platonicky zamilovaný do mé maminky a snad se dal slyšet, že by se oženil jedině tehdy, kdyby našel takovou dívku, jaká byla moje maminka. K tomu však již nemohlo dojít, protože strýček šel zřejmě prvním transportem z Terezína do Osvětimi a tam asi zůstal.

Má matka se jmenovala Markéta Fingerová. Narodila se v České Lípě 27. dubna 1909 a zemřela v Litomyšli 10. října 1992. Takže se dožila 83 let, což však zas není tak moc, protože naše rodina bývala dlouhověká. Její rodný jazyk byla čeština.

Zřejmě velice brzy se však stěhovali z České Lípy do Litomyšle, protože do školy už maminka chodila tam. S tatínkem pak nějakou dobu žila v Plzni, než se přestěhovali zpět do Litomyšle, abych nevyrůstala v tak špatném životním prostředí, jaké v Mostě bylo.

Maminka měla rodinou školu, kde se učila takříkajíc ženská povolání, vařit, šít, péct. A takové základní ekonomické vedení domácnosti. Dnes jsou, myslím, takové školy tříleté. Mám dokonce pocit, že jeden čas byly i čtyřleté s maturitou. Maminka ale měla jednoroční kurz. Nebylo to tenkrát úplné střední vzdělání. Měla kvartu a potom šla na tu rodinou školu. A pak se šla učit do Sudet, do Teplic-Šanova, němčinu. Tam byla v nějaké rodině. Do zaměstnání nikdy nechodila, byla v domácnosti.

Během války byla také v Terezíně, tam jsme šli celá rodina onoho 6. prosince 1942. Protože byl můj tatínek předseda Židovské obce, tak jsme byli po dobu jeho života v Terezíně chráněni, tak nějak automaticky. Když ale 23. června 1944 zemřel, šly jsem hned jedním z nejbližších transportů, tím říjnovým, do Osvětimi. Z Terezína jsme odjížděly 12. října a do Osvětimi jsme se dostaly 14. října. Pamatuji si, že jsme šly seřazeny v pětistupech a že proti nám šel - jedna ze šťastných náhod mého života - nějaký německý voják, který řekl mamince, ať mu dá ten snubní prstýnek, co měla na ruce. Tak mu ho dala a on nám za to poradil: „Pamatujte si, že je Vám víc než šestnáct a míň než čtyřicet pět a hlaste se na těžkou práci.“ Maminka měla s sebou po tatínkovi zimní kabát, takhle ho hodila přes mě a když jsme šly před Mengelem, tak jsem vypadala poněkud mohutnější. Mně v té době bylo teprve čtrnáct let. Ovšem znám dvě sestry, které pak jely s námi do pracovního tábora, té mladší bylo tenkrát dvanáct let a také se jí to povedlo.

V Osvětimi jsme pobyly čtrnáct dnů. 28. října jsme měly dojem, že půjdeme do plynové komory, ale měly jsme štěstí a šly jsme pracovním transportem dál do Rakouska, do pobočky Mauthausenu, to se jmenovalo Lenzing [ženský poboční tábor Mauthausenu, poskytoval pracovní síly pro textilní průmysl – pozn. red.] v Horním Rakousku. A tam jsme byly až do osvobození. Ovšem kdy přesně jsme byli osvobozeni, to je příklad toho, jak se paměti rozcházejí. Já jsem byla a jsem dosud přesvědčena, že jsme byli osvobozeni 6. května 1945 americkou armádou. Moje známé, dvě sestry, se kterými jsme tam tenkrát současně šly, jsou přesvědčeny, že jsme byli osvobozeni 4. května. Ale já si za svým stojím. A ony také.

Ale protože moje maminka byla nejhorší případ v tom lágru, nejely jsme hned domů. Já jsem totiž měla nějaký nález na plicích, i když otevřená tuberkulóza to nebyla. Maminka tam však absolvovala infarkt, vážila 29 kilo a byla takzvaný musulman - to jsou takové úplně vychrtlé kostry s vyvalenýma očima a vousy po celém obličeji. Američané se jí okamžitě ujali, dali ji tam na nějakou marodku a tam jí dali jakžtakž do pořádku. Proto jsme nemohly jet prvním transportem domů. Mě dali zatím do bývalého tábora Hitlerjugend 9, na břehu jezera Attersee [jazero v rakúskych Alpách – pozn. red.], což bylo velmi příjemné, a já jsem těch pět kilometrů za maminkou na tu marodku každý den chodívala. Navštěvovali je tam i američtí vojáci a jednou se tam přichomýtnul i nějaký Angličan. Maminka, když už na tom byla trošku lépe - ona na tom skutečně byla už velmi špatně, šestatřicetiletý člověk - takže potom, když se dala trošičku do pořádku, tak k ní přišel nějaký ten voják a maminka říká: „Jé, tak Vy jste z Anglie. Tam určitě bude v armádě můj bratr.“ On se zeptal, jak se jmenuje, maminka mu řekla jméno a on říká: „Jó, Honza [Honza je domácke pomenovanie Jan-a – pozn. red.], toho já dobře znám, ten je u RAF [Royal Air Force – kráľovské letectvo – súčasť britských vojenských síl. V rokoch 1940 - 1945 pôsobilo v RAF okolo 3 500 českých a slovenských letcov – pozn. red.].“

Po válce

Podle mě jsme se domů vracely 19. června, ale ty moje známé, ty dvě sestry, opět říkají nějaké jiné datum. Ale je možné, že ony jely nějakým předchozím transportem. No, ať to bylo, jak to bylo, já si myslím, že 21. června jsme se pak dostaly do Prahy. Tam jsem šly všechny na lékařskou prohlídku. Maminku okamžitě odlifrovali do podolského sanatoria, tehdy to bylo ještě všeobecné sanatorium, ne gynekologie. A mě tam vzali s ní. Nevím, jak dlouho tam byla, ale zase ji tam dali jakžtakž do pořádku a ještě v průběhu prázdnin se vrátila do Litomyšle, kde začala shánět nábytek a věci z našeho domu. Mne si vzala na starost babiččina a dědečkova hospodyně Marie. Odvezla mě k své sestře a ke své neteři do Dobrovic u Mladé Boleslavi. A tam se mně skutečně snažily dát veškerou péči a vykrmit mě. Stýkala jsem se s ní až do její smrti, to bylo, myslím, koncem šedesátých, začátkem sedmdesátých let. Zemřela ve Stránčicích u Říčan. Ona se totiž, když dědeček s babičkou odjeli do Terezína, nebo možná o něco málo předtím, seznámila s pánem přiměřeného věku, jakýmsi Tomičem, právě ze Stránčic a ve svých přibližně padesáti letech se za něj provdala. Odstěhovala se k němu, z našeho bytu si půjčila zařízení, které tam bylo, a po válce nám ho pak postupně dávala.

Maminka žila do roku 1951 z penze – to jsme žily velmi skromně, protože to byla penze hlavně z doby, kdy tatínek dělal pomocného dělníka. To skutečně moc peněz nebylo. V roce 51 musela být zaměstnána, ale tehdy už z kádrových důvodů nesměla dělat jiné než dělnické profese. Pracovala především v litomyšlské mlékárně, kde vymývala velké konve. Byla i na poště, kde dělala nějakou pomocnou práci, a také, myslím, ve mlýně a potom v Logarexu [závod Logarex byl založen v roce 1950 a jeho výrobní programem se staly výpočetní a rýsovací pomůcky. V roce 1958 se závod stal součástí podniku Koh-i-noor Hardtmuth České Budějovice. Dnes je závod zaměřen na výrobu školních a kancelářských potřeb – pozn. red.], to byla továrna na výrobu různých pravítek. Problém byl v tom, že jakmile se někde usadila, tak ji okamžitě zase vyhodili a musela si hledat nějaké nové místo.

Totiž ty kádrové důvody… to bylo tak… moje prababička, maminčiny maminky maminka měla za první světové války se svým zetěm výrobu obuvi, myslím vojenské, nebo něco takového. A tam byl zaměstnaný jeden mládenec jako učeň, který se práci příliš nevěnoval a držel tzv. modré pondělky, tj. v pondělí jednoduše nechodil do práce. Jestli ho potom vyhodili nebo ne, tím si nejsem jistá, ale zřejmě asi ano. Prostě on na celou naši rodinu zanevřel. A také myslím, že to byl velký antisemita, protože když se maminka vrátila, tak ji potkal na náměstí a oslovil ji takto: „Paní Freyová, to je strašný, takových židáků tam zůstalo a zrovna Vy s těma Vašema bábama jste se musely vrátit.“ Maminka totiž v Terezíně zřejmě nějakým způsobem někde sehnala cigarety a někoho podplatila, aby její babička a sestra té babičky nemusely jít do transportu. Moje prababička měla šest dětí, všechny zůstaly v Osvětimi, jen ona se sestrou se vrátily a žily potom u nás. To bylo trnem v oku tomuto soudruhovi, z kterého se stal později předseda KSČ v Litomyšli a snažil se nám znepříjemňovat život, jak mohl. Naše rodina a rodina maminčiny sestry jsme bydleli v jednom domě, myslím, že to byl pěkný dům. Protože jakmile přišli Němci a obsadili Litomyšl, tak jsme se museli odstěhovat k tatínkovým rodičům a Němci v tom domě nahoře udělali úřadovnu NSDAP [Die Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei – pozn. red.] a dole Kindergarten, čili mateřskou školku. Po únoru 1948 10 tenhleten pan předseda KSČ v Litomyšli, přišel na originální nápad. Prý, že se budeme muset vystěhovat a on že v prvním patře udělá sekretariát KSČ a v přízemí mateřskou školku. Neboli naprostá analogie, že. My jsme se tenkrát velmi bránily. Jedna moje kamarádka byla zaměstnána na okresním úřadě - tehdy byla Litomyšl ještě okres - a ta nám to ohlídala. Jakmile tam přišlo vyrozumění, že se musíme vystěhovat, tak ještě než jsme ho dostali my, dala nám o tom vědět. Maminka zašla za jinou kamarádkou, advokátkou, a ta nám rovnou udělala odvolání. Odvolávali jsme se tak dlouho, až jsme se nakonec odvolali až k Zápotockému 11. A u něj jsme konečně pochodili, takže jsme tam mohli zůstat. No, ale protože to byly dva třípokojové byty s halou, dosti velké místnosti, tak nás pak zase chtěli vystěhovat na základě toho, že je to nadměrné. V té době totiž bylo možné vlastnit pouze tři pokoje, ale jejich přesnou plochu si už nepamatuji. To tenkrát určoval nějaký dekret. Maminka to vyřešila tak, že půlku domu, tu horní půlku, prodala své kamarádce. Oni právě tehdy sháněli nějaký byt, takže to koupili a hned se tam nastěhovali. Ta paní je o dva roky mladší než naše maminka a stále ještě žije. Tedy doufám, že to mohu říct, rozhodně ještě minulý týden žila. Tam nahoře teď tedy žije tahle stará paní se svou dcerou a v našem bytě už nastálo nikdo. My tam jezdíme jen příležitostně. Nikdo z příbuzenstva již nežije, ale mám tam spoustu spolužaček z obecné školy a z gymnázia.

Ten předseda KSČ v Litomyšli na prodej oné půlky domu reagoval velmi nedobře. Maminka si musela co chvilku hledat místo, nesměly jsme třeba ani jet se zájezdem do Drážďan a já jsem nesměla se svazem mládeže do Rumunska. Takhle nám zasahoval do života až do roku 1968, kdy se snažil být progresivní. Krátce poté zemřel. To pak už maminka dělala lepší práci, v té mlékárně začala dělat vrátnou. Ale mně se zdá, že pak šla již brzy do důchodu. V důchodu potom dělala průvodkyni po zámku a po Smetanově světničce a nakonec pracovala v Matičkově galerii. Josef Matička, byl malíř-naivista. To je velmi zajímavé naivní umění. On se v Litomyšli nenarodil, ale vzal si ženu z Litomyšle, mimochodem Židovku. Jeho nejlepší obrazy jsou z doby války, kdy měl nějakou předtuchu zlého. Předtím to byl ovšem výrazný komunista, což bylo mnoho lidí v té době. Po něm je v Litomyšli pojmenovaná jedna galerie a v té maminka pracovala.

Maminka měla o dva nebo o tři roky staršího bratra Jana a o dva roky mladší sestru Marii. Té se říkalo Micy, protože se narodila v Teplicích [Teplice-M(arie)ice-Micy] .

Bratr Jan se narodil v roce 1906, byl dlouho svobodný a žil v Prostějově, kde měl dětskou konfekci. Co se týče jeho náboženského zaměření, tak bylo velmi vlažné. Skoro pochybuji, že by něco slavil a košer zcela jistě nedodržoval. Dlouho žil s tamější významnou herečkou té doby, Taňou Hodanovou [Táňa Hodanová (1892 – 1982): česká herečka – pozn. red.], ale nebyli sezdaní. To jméno už Vám asi nic neříká, ale svého času to bylo velmi význačné jméno. Strýček, protože byl velmi prozíravý, poznal, že mu tady ve válce pšenka nepokvete, tak chtěl i s Taňou Hodanovou emigrovat. Ale Taňa to odmítla, protože její svět bylo divadlo, ostravská scéna. A tak se rozešli. Strýček tedy odešel do Anglie sám a pořídil si tam nějaký podnik na opravu látek nebo něco takového a pak tam měl také nějakou konfekci. A seznámil se tam s mnohem mladší dívkou z Opavy, Erikou Lichtwitzovou, a vzali se. Její otec měl v Opavě továrnu na likéry – jmenovalo se to Lichtwitz likér. Potom po válce se z toho stala továrna na konzervy, Seliko [firma Emanuel LICHTWITZ - výrobce rosolky a likérů byla založena v r. 1861 v Opavě a v r. 1863 byla zapsána do obchodního rejstříku pod názvem "Em. LICHTWITZ". Po znárodnění v létech 1948-1949 byl závod začleněn do národního majetku. Postupně od r. 1953 do r. 1958 docházelo k útlumu a posléze ke zrušení výroby lihovin. Výroba byla nahrazována konzervárenskou výrobou. Společnost prošla několika etapami organizačních změn, v současnosti SELIKO a.s. – pozn. red.]. Erika se do Anglie dostala na začátku války, nebo ještě před ní, to přesně nevím. Ona totiž byla také Židovka, tak odjela do Anglie, jak to tenkrát Židé dělali. Oba dva se po válce z té Anglie vrátili zpátky do Prahy a 20. září 1947 se jim narodil syn, kterého pojmenovali Tomáš Jan Václav. Ale když mu bylo půl roku, hned po únoru 1948, se oba i s ním okamžitě vrátili zpátky do Anglie. A tam mu zůstalo jenom jméno John. Erika stále ještě žije, vždyť také byla o mnoho mladší než strýček, o 13 let. Žije v Londýně a jejich syn John bydlí hned ve vedlejším domě.

Maminčina sestra Marie se narodila 8. srpna 1911 a pak žila až do deportace v Litomyšli. Vdala se za Otto Sgalla, který byl o devatenáct let starší než ona. Měli spolu syna Milana, který se narodil 5. května 1934. Nikdo z těch tří válku nepřežil. Odjeli litomyšlským transportem do Terezína a pak šli takzvaným zářijovým transportem do Osvětimi. Což znamenalo, že všichni byli usmrceni ze sedmého na osmého září 1944 v Osvětimi.

Vzpomínky na dětství

Já se jmenuji Eva Dušková, za svobodna Freyová, a narodila jsem se v Plzni 22. března 1930. Datum úmrtí dosud neznámo. Žádné sourozence nemám, měla jsem jenom toho bratránka Milánka, se kterým jsme žili v jednom domě. Ale to, že jsem byla jedináček, bylo vlastně štěstí, protože bych se asi neuchránila plynu. V Osvětimi totiž bylo pravidlo, že komu je víc než šestnáct let, nebo minimálně šestnáct a maximálně čtyřicet pět, tak se může hlásit na těžkou práci. A mladší a starší musí jít do plynu.

První čtyři roky jsem žila v Plzni, ale pak jsme se přestěhovali do Litomyšle. Mohu říct, že jsem tam žila s oběma rodiči, protože tatínek do Mostu jenom dojížděl. V Litomyšli jsem vychodila první čtyři třídy, ale pak už jsem do školy chodit nesměla 12. Tam jsem se vrátila až po válce. Pamatuji se na svůj první den ve škole. Do první třídy jsem šla se svou kamarádkou Anitou Frankovou, za svobodna Fisherovou. Znala jsem se s ní již od čtyř let, protože naši rodiče se přátelili. Navíc jsme vlastně byly velmi vzdálené příbuzné. Konkrétně bratr Anitina dědečka a sestra mé prababičky byli manželé. Dokonce jsme tehdy trvaly na tom, abychom ve škole seděly vedle sebe. A nakonec jsme seděly. Ovšem hned druhý den jsme byly rozsazené pro neposlušnost. My jsme si prostě pouze povídaly. Co říká pan učitel, nebylo tak zajímavé. Ale já jsem se do školy velice těšila, byla jsem lačná po vědomostech. Mě i Anitu první den do školy doprovázeli tatínkové. Vím, že tam pánové vzadu za lavicemi stáli vedle sebe a myslím, že se dobře bavili. Myslím, že to naši tatínkové brali jako takovou svou osobní výsadu. Že by tam byly i maminky, to si nepamatuji. Velmi brzy jsem do školy chodila bez doprovodu, protože to byl malý kousek, bez jakéhokoliv dopravního nebezpečí.

Do jedné třídy jsme s Anitou chodily, tuším, tři roky. Potom se Fischerovi odstěhovali do Prahy, protože měli pocit, že budou v Praze jaksi skrytější, nebo chráněnější, kdežto my jsme zůstali v Litomyšli. To bylo asi v osmatřicátém roce. Už tenkrát měli zjevně pocit určitého ohrožení, ale proč, to jsem se jich neptala. Mě to tenkrát nezajímalo. Jen vím, že se říkalo, že měli pocit, že v Praze jaksi nebudou tak na očích. Leč v Praze potom Anitin tatínek dostal vbrzku, tuším, infarkt či co a zemřel. Ještě před válkou.

Jaké dojmy z válečného období mám? Pamatuji si, že když byla mobilizace 13, tak se tatínkův bratr, můj strýček František, vrátil velice skleslý, když tu mobilizaci odvolali. Potom si pamatuji, jak mi tatínek říkal – to už byl předsedou Židovské obce - že si nesmím hrát s místními holčičkami. V Litomyšli byla mimochodem jedna rodina, dělnická rodina, on byl tuším cestář nebo něco takového a velmi uvědomělý sociální demokrat, velmi čestný člověk. Můj tatínek, přestože měl dva akademické tituly, tak kdykoliv ho potkal, hluboce smekl. A tahle rodina – velmi prostí, ale velmi charakterově vzácní lidé - k nám domů posílali mou spolužačku, Boženku, aby si se mnou hrála. Její rodiče jí prostě řekli: „Když ses kamarádila s Evou předtím, tak teď se s ní musíš kamarádit zase.“ A ona k nám skutečně chodila, dokud jsme neodjeli. Po válce jsme se sešly opět v gymnáziu ve stejné třídě a kamarádíme spolu dosud. Když jedu do Litomyšle, navštěvujeme se.

Některé ostatní děti se ode mne odkláněly. Pamatuji si, že jsme nesměli chodit na koupaliště 12, a tak jsme chodili za město do takového potůčku a tam jsme se koupali. Nesmírně mi vadilo, že jsem nesměla chodit do školy. Různých omezení, třeba co do zásobování, toho jsem si v podstatě ani nevšimla, protože naše maminka byla velmi schopná a sehnala kde co. Různě pod rukou a také jsme měli spoustu známých na venkově. Ani nošení hvězdy 12 na mě nezanechalo žádný dojem, my jsme se potom stýkali už jen sami mezi sebou, takže mi to ani nepřišlo. Naopak mi vadilo, když jsme museli odevzdat rádiové přístroje. Že jsme museli odevzdávat i nějaké šperky, to se mě celkem nedotklo a myslím, že maminka to všechno dala schovat k přátelům. Hospodyni to dát nemohla, protože ta až do našeho transportu žila s dědečkem a babičkou v jednom bytě. Ovšem když dědeček a babička za sebou zavřeli dveře, tak co mohla, tak z toho bytu vybrala a uschovala a po válce nám to postupně vydávala. Také si vzpomínám, že když byla heydrichiáda 14, tak jsem byla s maminkou sama doma, tatínek byl asi někde v práci. Zazvonili nějací dva pánové a ukazovali nám obrázky kola, aktovky a já nevím čeho ještě. A já jsem říkala: „Jé podívej, maminko, tuhletu aktovku má můj tatínek [atentátnici sa po úspešnom útoku na Reinharda Heydricha zbavili dôkazov. Gestapo následne zahájilo vyšetrovanie, ku ktorému použili aj fotografie dôkazového materiálu – pozn. red.]. Maminka se na mě strašně rozzlobila a říkala, že si vymýšlím.

Jinak si myslím, že jsem byla celkem hodné dítě. Vzpomínám si snad na jedinou výjimku, kdy jsem chtěla svého o čtyři roky mladšího bratránka Milana praštit sekyrkou. Nic mně tenkrát nedělal, prostě tady byla sekyrka, tady stál on… no prostě jsem ji tam viděla, a tak jsem cítila potřebu ji použít. A nemohla jsem pochopit, proč se na mě jeho otec zlobí. Bylo mi šest.

Také si vzpomínám, že jsme se v Terezíně sešly s Anitou [Frankovou]. Byly jsme obě v jedné místnosti v takzvaném Mädchenheimu. Rodiče se tenkrát postarali o to, abych se tam dostala. Když jsme přišli do Terezína, byli jsme nejprve v takzvané šlojske [šlojska: první budova, do které byli příchozí nahnáni a vníž přišli o veškeré cennosti – pozn. red.]. To bylo asi tak tři dny. Pak nás přemístili muže zvlášť a ženy s dětmi zvlášť, ale tam byly dost nevlídné podmínky. No a v tom Mädchenheimu už byla Anita, takže tam jsme bydlely společně, dokud Anitu s maminkou neposlali v prosinci 1943 do Osvětimi. Já s maminkou jsem tam šla až téměř o rok později. Z jakýchsi „zaručených“ zdrojů, kdosi, kdo to prý viděl na vlastní oči, jsme se po válce dozvěděly, že Anita šla i s matkou do plynu, ale byla to falešná zvěst. Ony šly tenkrát z Osvětimi někam do Běloruska, ale kam, to si přesně nevzpomenu. A tam je osvobodila dosti zajímavým způsobem Rudá armáda. Totiž předtím než Rudá armáda přišla, tak se je Němci snažili všechny postřílet a Anita i její maminka z toho nějak omdlely. Či něco takového. Takže Němci si mysleli, že už jsou vyřízené. Anitinu maminku ale ještě uhodili několikrát pažbou pušky do hlavy. No a potom je osvobodila Sovětská armáda, jenže spletla si je se německými zajatkyněmi a odvelela je do gulagu 15. To víte, Rudá armáda.

Nějak těsně před Vánoci se Anita ozvala z Prahy od své tety, protože jí a ještě, myslím, pár dalších dětí pustili z toho gulagu dřív a maminku tam ještě nechali. Jen vím že o Vánocích pětačtyřicet už byla Anita u nás v Litomyšli na prázdninách. Pak se vrátila do Prahy do gymnázia. Její maminka se ze Sovětského svazu vrátila asi půl roku po ní. V padesátém roce ale najednou Anitinu maminku začala bolet hlava a po nějaké době zemřela. Zjistilo se, že přitom, když jí tou pažbou pušky tloukli do hlavy, tak se střepina z lebky dostala do mozku a tam potom zapracovala.

I já jsem po válce, jak jsem říkala, mohla opět chodit do školy, do reálného gymnázia. To byl školní rok 1945/46. Tehdy jsem byla podmínečně přijatá do kvarty – i když už jsem patřila do kvinty, kam mě však z pochopitelných důvodů nevzali - s tím, že do konce školního roku musím udělat zkoušky ze všech předmětů za celé nižší gymnázium. Přičemž vím, že třeba tady v Praze musela jedna moje kamarádka dělat zkoušky pouze z češtiny a matematiky, zatímco já jsem je dělala i z přírodopisu, chemie a já nevím, z čeho ještě. Ze začátku to sice bylo velice tvrdé, ale pak jsem si na tu práci zvykla. Učívala jsem se dlouho do noci, látku kvarty a ještě to všechno ostatní. Do Litomyšle jsme se po válce vrátily jen tři děti a navíc různého věku, takže škola nabídla tuto možnost, ale připravit jsme se musely samy. Na zkoušky mě učila za prvé jedna studentka, která zrovna absolvovala oktávu, a potom jeden profesor z průmyslové školy a jedna profesorka snad také z průmyslové školy. Ti za mnou chodili a vtloukali mně vědomosti do hlavy. Já jsem totiž předtím měla pouze čtvrtou obecnou a trochu jsem se něco učila soukromě a něco maloučko také v Terezíně, jaksi potají, ale prakticky jsem neznala nic. Posledního tři čtvrtě roku, co jsme byli v tom Lenzingu, jsem znala pouze úmornou tvrdou práci. Takže jsem měla úplně, úplně vygumovaný mozek. Vůbec nic jsem si nepamatovala, co jsem se večer naučila, to jsem ráno neznala. Ale měla jsem takovou snahu ty zkoušky udělat, že se mně to povedlo. Zezačátku jsem měla samé čtyřky a pětky, ale na konci jsem maturovala jako jedna z nejlepších. Ale neřekla bych, že jsem to všechno dohnala, i když na ty zkoušky to stačilo.

Do školy jsem však chodila nesmírně ráda. Prázdniny mně vždycky trvaly příliš dlouho, nemohla jsem se dočkat, až zas do školy půjdu. Ráda jsem se učila, na obecné škole jsem měla ráda, myslím, všechno. Méně snad počty a více mluvnici, tehdy se říkalo mluvnice. A těžko jsem se vypořádávala s kreslením. A na gymnáziu jsem milovala všechny humanitní obory, zatímco ty přírodovědné mi zůstávaly poněkud cizí. I když musím říct, že i tak mě zajímaly a bavilo mě se to učit.

Po maturitě jsem šla studovat na filosofii knihovnictví. Chtěla jsem sice studovat psychologii, ale v pololetí v oktávě jsem se dozvěděla, že bych ji musela kombinovat pouze s čistou filosofií a tehdy znamenala čistá filosofie především marxismus. No, tak jsem to sama v sobě odmítla a přihlásila jsem se na řeči. Ovšem velmi nešikovně, protože jsem se přihlásila na anglistiku-germanistiku. V tom padesátém roce bylo totiž absolutně vyloučeno, že bych byla přijata, když jsem neměla partajní zázemí. Takže jsem měla velké štěstí, že mně tenkrát napsali: „Jste přijata na obor knihovnictví.“ A tak jsem vystudovala knihovnictví. K nám na knihovnictví se dostalo několik lidí, kteří dělali přijímací zkoušky na úplně jiné obory. Například moje současná kolegyně, nejen ročníková, ale i profesní, dělala přijímací zkoušky na dějiny umění A také dostala vyjádření: „Jste přijata na obor knihovnictví.“ On totiž o to knihovnictví neměl nikdo zájem. Anita Franková například se hlásila na historii a přijali ji na archivnictví. Studovala ve stejném ročníku. Tenkrát nebylo možné přejít na jiný obor, když už Vás na filosofickou fakultu přijali, přestože se to, myslím někomu povedlo, ale zase Vás mohli přijmout na úplně jiný obor, než na jaký jste dělala přijímací zkoušky. Já jsem si tenkrát říkala, že lepší knihovnictví než nic. Ale potom mě to chytilo a dělám to dodnes. Kromě toho, já jsem už na obecné škole ráda četla, mým oblíbeným autorem byl Foglar [Jaroslav Foglar-Jestřáb (1907-1999): českého spisovatele pro mládež – pozn. red.]. Prý jsem špatně jedla a když se mnou šla jednou maminka okolo knihkupectví, řekla jsem: „Maminko, já mám hlad.“ Ona prý na to: „Pojď, půjdu s tebou nahoru tamhle naproti do řeznictví a tam ti něco koupím.“ A já: „Ne, já mám hlad na čtení.“

I doma jsme samozřejmě měli knihovnu. Můj tatínek velice shromažďoval literaturu a měl spoustu literatury technické. Měl rád pohádky a tehdejší produkci ELK, tj. Evropského literárního klubu. Což byla taková česká a světová soudobá klasika. I maminka určitě četla podobný druh literatury. Jestli měli doma i nějakou náboženskou literaturu, to nevím, jen si pamatuji, že si dědeček svou modlitební knihu vytahoval ze svého nočního stolku. Z časopisů měl tatínek doma týdeník Pestrý týden [v roce 1926 vyšlo nulté číslo časopisu Pestrý týden. Byl to týdeník pro intelektuální vyšší třídu obyvatelstva. Šéfredaktorem byli Adolf Hoffmeister, Jaromír John, a do samého konce časopisu, v roce 1945, Neubert – pozn. red.], ten jsme měli dokonce i svázaný. V Litomyšli byla i městská knihovna, ale jestli tam chodili, to nevím. Já sama jsem tam byla jen jednou. To bylo po válce, už jako studentka gymnázia, když jsem potřebovala nějakou povinnou literaturu. Viděla jsem tu temnou místnost, všechny knihy zabalené v modrém balícím papíru, pan knihovník velmi zajímavá figurka, velmi ošklivý, vyceněné zuby. Černý pracovní plášť, klotové rukávce. No, byla jsem ráda, že jsem tam odtud odešla. A řekla jsem si: „Už nikdy více do knihovny.“

Co se cizích jazyků týče, jsem schopná komunikovat v němčině. Německy jsem se ale nikdy neučila, protože jsem se narodila v Plzni a vyrůstala jsem tedy v dvojjazyčném prostředí. V osmi letech mě strýc Otto Sgall začal učit angličtinu, kterou jsem pak měla i na gymnáziu, ale nepovinnou, a pak i na vysoké škole. Takže anglicky se také domluvím. Na gymnáziu jsme měli samozřejmě i latinu. Od kvarty jsem měla ruštinu, kterou jsem navíc ještě vyučovala a udělala jsem si z ní zkoušku. Ale zapomněla jsem ji, protože jsem ji dlouho nepoužívala. To je mi velmi líto. Mimochodem, v lágru, v tom Lenzingu, jsem byla společně s Maďarkami a abych si trochu cvičila mozek, tak jsem se učila i maďarsky. Poslouchala jsem a ptala jsem se jich, co znamená ta která věta nebo slovo. Tenkrát jsem tedy docela dobře rozuměla i tomuto jazyku, ale teď až na pár slov neznám nic. Od kvinty jsem měla francouzštinu, ze které jsem, tuším, i maturovala, ale protože jsem ji také dlouho nepoužívala, tak pasivně ji sice znám, ale aktivně už bohužel ne. Po státnici jsem se přihlásila do jazykové školy na současnou hebrejštinu, neboli ivrit, protože z dětství jsem toho moc neuměla. Ten pochybný rabín Samuel Freilich, který nás učil hebrejsky ještě v Litomyšli na obecné škole, nás toho moc nenaučil. To spíš nás něco naučil dědeček nebo tatínek.

Kromě jazyků jsem i dost sportovala, ale sportovní kroužky tenkrát nebyly. Před válkou jsem chodívala do Sokola 16. Na žádném sletě jsem ale nebyla. Lyžovala jsem, bruslila, sáňkovala, plavala a tak. Bruslit se u nás v Litomyšli chodívalo na rybník nedaleko domu, kde bydlívala Anita Franková. Takže bruslit jsme chodily spolu. Na horách jsem nelyžovala nikdy, rodiče sami nelyžovali, takže jsme nikde nebyli. Ale v Litomyšli byl kopec, kterému se říkalo Fejťák, neboli Fejtkův kopec. Tenkrát mi připadal strašně veliký, ale dnes bych si ho možná ani nevšimla. Navíc tam možná už ani není, dělali tam různé úpravy. A na tento kopec litomyšlské děti chodívaly lyžovat. Jediným mým zájmem ale byla četba a to mě zůstalo až do současnosti. Dlouhou chvíli ani dnes většinou nemám, ale snažím se utrhnout nějakou chvilku pro kousek čtení.

Zaměstnání

Studium knihovnictví nám udělali jednooborové, takže nás odpromovali po dvou letech, v padesátém druhém roce. Při studiu jsem praktikovala v Národním muzeu, v oddělení starých tisků, kam jsem chodila praktikovat zadarmo v naději, že se tam dostanu, ta práce tam mě dost zaujala. Oni si potom o mě zažádali na fakultu, protože to bylo období umístěnek. Jenže na fakultě jim řekli, že tam v muzeu je velmi reakční prostředí a já že nejsem jaksi politicky ještě úplně ztracený případ, čili že mě musí dát někam, kde se spíš politicky pozvednu. A dali mi umístěnku do Vojenské lékařské knihovny v Hradci Králové. Tak jsem tam napsala a přihlásila jsem se a oni mi odpověděli, že stejnou umístěnku dostali tři lidé a já že jsem po kádrové stránce nejméně vyhovující, takže mě nepřijmou. Tenkrát v padesátých letech bylo všechno možné, i to, že na jedno místo dostanou umístěnku tři.

Kdosi mně řekl, že slyšel, že je nějaká knihovna někde v Dejvicích. Tak jsem odjela do Dejvic a tam jsem šla od fakulty k fakultě – tam byly Zemědělská a Chemická - a všude mně řekli, že tam místo nemají. Šla jsem taky do ÚDA, což byl Ústřední dům armády, jenže tam jsem už vůbec kádrově neuspěla. A pak mi na jednom z těch míst řekli, že snad někde v Podbabě, v nějakém výzkumném ústavu, je nějaká knihovna. Tak jsem odjela do Podbaby, zjistila jsem, že je tam Výzkumný ústav vodohospodářský a tak jsem šla za kádrovým referentem, nějakým Josefem Fialou. To byl nesmírný primitiv. Aniž by o mně měl jakékoliv reference, když zjistil, že jsem byla v koncentračním táboře, tak si řekl: „Á, tak ta bude uvědomělá, tu dáme do knihovny. Tam není zrovna kádrově dobré prostředí, takže ona je tam povzdělá.“ Tak mě tam dali a já jsem se s nimi samozřejmě okamžitě domluvila, a hned jsem byla jejich a s tou vedoucí jsem dodnes spřátelená. Ale byla jsem tam jen velice krátkou dobu, necelý rok, neboť jsme se dozvěděli, že do té knihovny má přijít nějaký nový vedoucí. A moje vedoucí, protože věděla, že bych s ním mohla mít kádrové problémy, mi říká: „Evo, koukej odsud zmizet, jak nejdřív můžeš.“ A tehdy zrovna, čirou náhodou, to byl prostě shluk náhod, tam přišel jeden inženýr, který říkal, že se zakládá knihovna v Akademii věd, naproti přes ulici - tehdy to byla laboratoř pro vodní hospodářství a potom z toho vznikl Ústav pro hydrodynamiku - jestli o někom nevím. A ta moje vedoucí na to reagovala: „Neváhej ani okamžik a hned to vezmi sama.“ Tak jsem to vzala sama. Mimochodem, při odchodu na nové pracoviště jsem dostala takovýhle kádrový posudek: „Soudružka Freyová přesto, že byla v koncentráku, říká soudružkám slečno.“ Podle onoho kádrového referenta, jakmile je někdo v koncentračním táboře, musí být komunista. Byl prostě nesmírně hloupý.

Takže jsem v roce 1953 přešla do Ústavu pro hydrodynamiku, tam byl velice dobrý ředitel a měl skvělého tajemníka. Ten tajemník mě vyzpovídal, řekl, že všechno je v pořádku, ale nakonec se zarazil a aby si mě „prokádroval“, říká: „Prosím Vás, slečno, já bych měl ještě něco, ale nevím, jak bych Vám to řekl. Totiž my tady nemáme svaz mládeže. A jestli budete chtít, tak ho budeme muset kvůli Vám založit.“ A já na to: „Prosím Vás, jen to ne.“ Myslím, že jsem měla životní štěstí. V Ústavu jsem tedy založila knihovnu a byla jsem tam až do roku, 1988, do posledního listopadu 1988, kdy jsem šla do důchodu. Měla jsem tam na starosti celou knihovnu, čili jsem dělala akvizici, zpracování, půjčování, statistiku, nákup a ještě meziknihovní výpůjční službu.

V důchodu jsem pak dělala různé brigády, například v Národní knihovně. V Ústavu soudobých dějin jsem dělala bibliografii a pak jsem v roce 1996 založila svoji milovanou knihovnu. Jde o knihovnu v Institutu Terezínské iniciativy 17. Proto mám tak dobrý přístup k Terezínské pamětní knize. Nejdříve pan Miroslav Kárný, který se hned po listopadu ujal jedné z vedoucích rolí v Terezínské iniciativě, sháněl někoho do muzea v Terezíně. Já jsem neměla chuť tam denně dojíždět, tak jsem mu to odmítla. Ale potom, když probojoval to, že se založila Nadace Terezínská iniciativa - dnes je to Institut Terezínské iniciativy - tak tam také chtěli knihovnu a opět si na mě vzpomněl. Já jsem zrovna neměla co dělat, tak jsem se toho s chutí chopila.

Knihovnictví mě opravdu chytilo, uchvátil mě hlavně ten systém. Navíc tehdy v Ústavu pro hydrodynamiku mě to zaujalo i obsahem. Můj tatínek byl technik, já jsem znala i nějaké autory, o nichž tatínek povídal, takže jsem k tomu měla blízko. A v Terezínské iniciativě k tomu mám zase blízko jako Židovka, která sama v Terezíně byla.

Náboženský život

Co se náboženství týče, dodnes praktikuji a zásluhu vidím hlavně v mém dědečkovi a tatínkovi, že na mě zapůsobili tak, že to ve mně zůstalo. Jak jsem říkala, výuka onoho rabína nám nikomu moc nedala. On byl původem z Podkarpatské Rusi 18, jmenoval se Samuel Freilich a mluvil takovou nedobrou češtinou. Z jeho výuky si pamatuji jen to, že nám říkal, že staří bohani měli za kamny pušky. Což znamenalo, že pohani měli za pecí či kde bůžky. Výuka probíhala asi jednou týdně. Chodívala jsem tam se svou jedinou židovskou spolužačkou, Anitou Frankovou. Navíc dodatečně se ukázalo, že Samuel Freilich byl velký podvodník. Před transporty, nebo snad už na začátku války, si totiž od některých bohatých členů obce vyžádal peníze z tím, že jim opatří vystěhování, a zmizel. Po válce se u nás objevil, takhle před obědem, a maminka mu říká: „Tak co jste udělal s těmi penězi?“ No, on se všelijak vytáčel a pak tvrdil, že byl internován v Ebensee [jeden z nejznámějších pobočných táborů Mauthausenu – pozn. red]. Na to maminka prohlásila: „No, to je zajímavý, ale my jsme se s těmi muži z Ebensee vracely domů.“ A on se okamžitě rozloučil. Už jsem o něm neslyšela.

V Litomyšli žilo před válkou něco málo přes sto Židů - po válce se jich tam vrátilo patnáct – takže nebylo myslitelné, aby se v pátek večer sešel počet deseti mužů v synagoze [minjan – modlitebné minimum desiatich mužov, vo veku nad trinásť rokov, potrebných k verejnej modlitbe – pozn. red.]. Do synagogy jsme tedy chodili pouze na Vysoké svátky, na Roš Hašana, Jom Kippur a na Simchat Tora. Litomyšl mělo tenkrát pět tisíc obyvatel, teď má deset tisíc a vždycky byla velmi kulturní. Už nejméně od devatenáctého století to za prvé bylo město studentů a za druhé spisovatelů, hudebníků a malířů. Žili tu Smetana [Bedřich Smetana (1824-1884): český skladatel, dirigent, klavírní virtuos a pedagog], Jirásek [Alois Jirásek (1851-1930): český romanopisec a dramatik, tvůrce historických povídek – pozn. red.] a Němcová 19. O té jsem psala do litomyšlského sborníku. Ona tam totiž vydala první vydání svých sebraných spisů u tehdejšího vydavatele Antonína Augusty. Vždycky do Litomyšle na nějaký čas jela, bydlela tam na třech místech.

V Litomyšli žádná židovská čtvrť nikdy nebyla, jen synagoga a vedle ní byl domeček šámese [v překladu „zřízenec“, označení pro placeného obecního pracovníka, zvláště takového, který má na starosti celkovou údržbu synagógy – pozn. red.]. Židovské školy ani mikve [rituální koupel – pozn. red.] tam nebyly. Židovský hřbitov je v současné době naprosto zdevastovaný. On totiž není zase tak starý, aby zaujal Židovské muzeum a pracovníky Židovské obce, takže je vše financováno z místních zdrojů. Ale obávám se, že možnosti jsou velmi omezené. Stále dál a dál se devastuje. I když teď se o něj začala starat místní paní učitelka se svými žáky. Na litomyšlském hřbitově je pohřbena určitě prababička z tatínkovy strany. Možná i strýček Karel, její syn. Ostatní příbuzní jsou rozprášeni. Co se synagogy týče, tu v šedesátých letech komunisti zbourali. Já jsem iniciovala a prosadila, aby vyrobili pamětní desku na místě, kde stávala. Je tam nápis o tom, že nacisté ji zdevastovali a komunisté zbourali. Jako záminku si tenkrát vzali to, že tam chtějí postavit sídliště. Což učinili, ale ona by jim v tom byla vůbec nebránila. Moje maminka se tehdy snažila o to, aby z toho udělali alespoň nějaký kulturní stánek. Jenže tam byla vyslovená snaha se toho všeho zbavit.

Židé v Litomyšli bývali většinou obchodníci. Obchodovali s různým artiklem, ale hlavně, myslím, s textilem. Byl tam velmi význačný továrník Hugo Popper, známý výrobce obuvi. To byla tenkrát velmi, velmi kvalitní obuv hlavně na export. Mimochodem, jestli znáte Helgu Hoškovou [Helga Hošková-Weissová], akademickou malířku, která udělala na holešovickém Parkhotelu, odkud šly první pražské transporty, pamětní desku, tak to byl její strýček. Udělala také pamětní desku té litomyšlské synagogy.

Jako malé holce se mi o Vysokých svátcích líbilo, jak šla celá rodina a celá litomyšlská obec do synagogy. Bylo to celé tak sváteční a my děti jsme tam strašně vyváděly. A byly jsme napomínány, i ručně. Můj dědeček, tatínek a tatínkův bratr seděli vlevo v první řadě a já jsem si k těm třem pánům směla přijít přisednout. To se mně také moc líbilo. U nás v synagoze běžně sedávaly ženy odděleně od mužů, ale já jsem prostě vlétla dolů a usadila jsem se vedle nich. Nikdo mě nevyhazoval [v ortodoxných synagógach musia sedieť ženy a muži oddelene – pozn. red.]. Jestli by jiné děti nevyhodili, to si neuvědomuji, ale myslím, že ani jim by se bylo nic nestalo. Navíc to nebylo jen jednou, spíše jsem tam sedávala dost pravidelně. Kromě toho si pamatuji, že když byl mazkir, neboli modlitba za mrtvé – tehdy musí všichni, kdo ještě mají oba rodiče a sourozence, prostě ty nejbližší příbuzné, opustit synagogu – odcházela jsem i s oběma rodiči ze synagogy, ale neznala jsem důvod. Ale věděla jsem, že když musí opustit synagogu i moji rodiče, tak se tam určitě neděje nic sprostého. Protože co nebylo pro děti, tak to bylo sprosté, alespoň tak jsem to tenkrát vnímala.

Jinak v pátek večer jsme se vždycky sešli u dědečka, u tatínkova otce, kde se předvečer soboty slavil pouze v rámci rodiny. Vše vždy probíhalo v té místnosti s klenbou. Ale nepamatuji se, že by matka třeba zapalovala šabatové svíčky. Dědeček pronášel požehnání před jídlem, i když si nejsem jistá, zda podobná požehnání říkal i před jiným než šabatovým jídlem. Košer jsme nejedli, a to v Litomyšli zřejmě nikdo, protože ta možnost ani nebyla. Můj dědeček, když byl mladý, tak košer dodržoval, ale potom dostal nějaké žaludeční potíže - jaké, to nevím - a lékař mu doporučil, aby jedl šunku. No a kuřecí tenkrát ještě nebyla. Ale on byl moudrý a myslím, že se s tím velice dobře vyrovnal. Ani jsme nerozdělovali masité a mléčné. Na druhou stranu, když jsem byla v sobotu u dědečka, tak jsem si nesměla ani psát. Ale když jsem byla doma, tak ano. Dědeček byl v tomto ohledu přísnější a v sobotu ani necestoval [religiózne židovské zákony zakazujú počas soboty, šabatu, základných 39 pracovných činností, ktoré sú zahrnuté do Talmudu, a ostatné činnosti, ktoré sú od nich odvodené. Medzi ne patrí napríklad aj písanie a cestovanie – pozn. red.]. Můj tatínek ale musel cestovat i o sobotě coby zástupce mostecké ocelárny.

Pesach, sederovou večeři, jsme také slavili u dědečka. Četla se samozřejmě Hagada [kniha zaznamenávající řád domáci bohoslužby při sederu. Hagada je v podstatě převyprávěním příběhu o východu z Egypta podle biblického podání – pozn. red.] a já jsem směla říkat Maništane [Ma ništana, čtyři otázky tradičně přednesené nejmladším účastníkem sederu – pozn. red.]. Protože já jsem nevládla příliš dobře hebrejštinou, tak mně to tatínek přepsal latinkou na kus papíru a vložil mi to do Hagady. Já jsem to přečetla , ale strašně jsem se styděla, protože jsem měla pocit, že podvádím, když to nečtu v originále. Dnes bych se tedy v originále modlit uměla, tedy alespoň to, co mě dědeček a tatínek naučili. Oba se mně velice věnovali, hlavně dědeček, ten opravdu vehementně, protože tatínek měl málo času, jak byl věčně na cestách.

Křesťanské svátky se v naší rodině neslavily nikdy, nikdy jsme například neměli vánoční stromeček. Mně to nikdy nevadilo a ani před spolužáky jsem se nesnažila to nějak zamlčovat. Mě naučili, abych se k tomu hrdě hlásila. Ale myslím, že mé spolužáky to stejně vůbec nezajímalo, jestli mám dárky na Vánoce nebo na Chanuka a ani nikoho z nich nezajímalo, jak a proč se třeba Chanuka slaví.

Ty různé zákazy a příkazy mně jako malé moc vadily. Rodiče mě vždycky uskladnili právě u dědečka a u babičky, u tatínkových rodičů, a babička měla o mě strašný strach a nechtěla mě pustit ven hrát si s dětmi. Na druhou stranu, dědeček mně sice zakazoval psát a kreslit si, ale zato mi vykládal různé biblické příběhy, které mě zaujaly. Bibli jsem později přečetla celou, Starý i Nový Zákon. A občas, když na něco narazím, se náboženství věnuji v Židovské ročence. Teď už ale příliš ne, teď se věnuji spíše, jak bych tak řekla, formálním stránkám života Obce. Protože, jak jistě víte, je to tam velmi rozhádané. Já jsem zastáncem té strany protisidonovské [Karol Efraim Sidon vrchní zemský a pražský rabín je zástancem konzervativního judaismu – pozn. red.] a hlásím se k tomu. S náboženstvím to však nemá nic společného, jde spíše o určitý vztah k obci. Já jsem přesvědčená, že ta druhá strana - my říkáme vždycky na naší straně a na druhé straně – tak že ta druhá strana podle mě sice velice demonstruje náboženské obřady, ale že jim jde hlavně o finanční a jiné zisky. No, v podstatě finanční.

Já sama dnes např. zákazy spojené se sobotou nedodržuji, ani svíčky nezapaluji, to už není ve smíšeném manželství možné a vůbec celý styl života to prostě nedovoluje. Jen chodívám během určitých svátků na obec a na Dlouhý den [Jom kippur, nejslávnostnější událost v židovském kalendáři – pozn. red.] se postím. Ale židovství jsem začala brát spíš jako životní filozofii a věci, které nebylo možné dodržovat, prostě ty formální záležitosti, jsem odbourala. Proto mně též není blízké dnešní ortodoxní směřování pražské obce. Podle mě jsou to, co oni prosazují, jen takové formality, věci, jimiž se člověk vyčleňuje z normální společnosti. Že se nějak staví „na odiv“. To nemám ráda, žádnou takovou, řekněme, demonstraci. Jako dospělá jsem jednou byla v pátek večer v synagoze a přišlo mi to tam takové cizí, neosobní, tak jsem si řekla, že to tedy nemám zapotřebí. Ale protože jsem byla jako dítě zvyklá chodit o Vysokých svátcích do synagogy, tak jsem tam chodila jaksi celou dobu, i dobu komunismu. Protože jsem knihovnice, měla jsem také úřední pochůzky, takže jsem to spojila s nějakou tou úřední pochůzkou. A nikdo nic nevěděl. Asi jsem měla štěstí. A zrovna takové štěstí měl můj muž, Milan Dušek, který jako varhaník hrál u svaté Markéty, také každou neděli a každý svátek. Naproti vchodu do svaté Markéty bydlela jejich kádrová referentka a ta říkala: „Vím o každém všechno.“ O mém muži ale nevěděla nic. Žádné represe ohledně své víry jsem za komunismu nepociťovala. Jen jednou se mě při nějakém výslechu, nebo to snad byl kádrový pohovor, to už nevím, ptali, jak jsem na tom s náboženstvím, na což jsem odpověděla, že to nemám ujasněné.

V životě jsem nenarazila ani na žádný antisemitismus, ani ve škole, ani v práci. To spíš maminka u toho předsedy národního výboru, ale já osobně nikdy. Já nikdy neměla potřebu svůj židovský původ skrývat, ale ani jsem neměla snahu to demonstrovat. V práci to o mně samozřejmě věděli. Mimochodem, my jsme tam měli společnost čtyř žen a všechny jsme byly nábožensky zaměřené, každá jaksi jiného druhu. A bavily jsme se o tom, v naprosté shodě. Jedna byla evangelička, jedna byla československá [Církev československá husitská] a jedna byla katolička. Spojovala nás shoda názoru na téma věřit či být ateista, to víte, za totality. Myslím, že ohledně víry jsme byly všechny čtyři tolerantní a zůstaly jsme doposud.

Já jsem ze židovství vyrostla, či spíše jsem vyrostla v něm. Nikdy u mě nenastala ona pochybnost, zda je přijmu za své, myslím, že jsem nic takového nikdy nezvažovala. Prostě jsem to brala jako daný fakt. A nikoho jsem se nikdy neptala, jestli v něco věřit mám nebo nemám, ani za komunismu, který propagoval atheismus. Věřila jsem, ale nikde jsem to neinzerovala. Ptali se mě dokonce lidé, jak je možné, že jsem po holocaustu nepřestala věřit. Ale já vím, že to tak mělo být, a proto věřím dál. Je těžké formulovat, co mě na židovství nejvíce oslovuje. Líbí se mi, že se mnou můj názor a moje pocity sdílí ještě další, tu větší, tu menší skupina lidí. A především jsou to citová pouta - k tradici a židovským myšlenkám.

Život od 60. let

Můj manžel se jmenuje Milan Dušek. Není to Žid, ale katolík. Narodil se 26. května 1931. Vyrůstal v Ústí nad Orlicí, ale narodit se jel do Vysokého Mýta – v Ústí nebyla porodnice. Sourozence měl a vlastně neměl. Jeho otec Emil byl totiž podruhé ženatý. Poprvé se oženil v roce 1894. Se svou první ženou měl šest dětí. Ale ona byla nějak dlouhodobě nemocná, co jí bylo, to se nějak přesně neví. Soudili, že možná roztroušená skleróza. Když potom ovdověl, tak se ukázalo, že se žádný z těchto v podstatě již dospělých pěti dětí o něj nechce starat. A tak si našel hospodyni. A on se rozhodl, že si ji vezme za ženu. Jmenovala se Justina Zimprichová. Mezi nimi byl osmadvacet let rozdíl. Byla to vlastně Němka, pocházela z okolí Ústí nad Orlicí, ze Sudet. Ale hlásila se k české národnosti. Z prvního manželství měl tedy manžel šest nevlastních sourozenců a z druhého manželství už žádného. O těch jeho nevlastních nic nevím, oni se nestýkali a myslím, že už nikdo z nich ani nežije. Jeho nejstarší bratr, jestli se nemýlím, byl asi o tři čtvrtě roku starší než manželova matka. A oni na ni prý velice žárlili. Prostě nechtěli mít s nimi nic společného.

Manžel vystudoval pražskou konzervatoř, ale z kádrových důvodů se tam dostal až napotřetí. Předtím tedy prošel několika dělnickými profesemi, dělal taškáře v nějaké dílně na výrobu tašek a tak, ledacos.

Po absolutoriu učil nějakou dobu hudební výchovu ve Vysokém Mýtě, ale nakonec se vrátil na konzervatoř. Učil tam především klavír, improvizaci a teorii. Ale jeho původní povolání jsou varhany, sám za totality hrál v břevnovském klášteře. Učil také hudební výchovu na DAMU [Divadelní fakulta Akademie múzických umění v Praze]. Tam, mimochodem, učil hlavně ročník, kde byl Dejdar [Martin Dejdar (1965)], Hrzánová [Barbora Hrzánová (1964)], Jančařík, ten je v Brně, a Hanuš [Miroslav Hanuš (1963)], ten je v Divadle v Dlouhé. Tuším, že v druhém ročníku nastudovali divadlo, takovou aktovku od F.F.Šamberka [František Ferdinand Šamberk (1838-1904)] „Blázinec v prvním poschodí“. Zmodernizovali to a hráli v Disku. Když pak absolvovali, tak kluci šli na vojnu. Ale když se vrátili, rozhodli se, že to znovu nastudují. Jenže už nebyl žádný materiál, a tak musel můj muž podle nahrávek všechno zpracovat. A tak to zpracoval, připravil a doprovázel je. Hráli to – a prakticky dosud hrají - v různých divadlech. Pak s nimi nastudoval ještě i jiné hry. I teď, když mají sem tam někdy Dejdar s Hrzánovou čas, oni jsou totiž oba velmi zaneprázdnění, jezdí s tou hrou do Brna do divadla Radost. Ale už dlouho se ta hra nehrála.

Oba jsme tedy studovali v Praze, manžel žil během studií v koleji, od padesátého prvního do padesátého šestého roku. Já jsem bydlela v soukromí. Ale seznámili jsme se až později, 14. prosince 1959. A to ve vlaku. Z Litomyšle do Chocně jezdívala lokálka – a je to tak dosud. Kdysi byla snaha udělat rychlíkový průtah přes Litomyšl, ale místní radní se tomu vzepřeli. Takže se to nestalo. V podstatě naštěstí. Manžel jel tehdy z Ústí do Prahy a já z Litomyšle. A tenkrát jsem v Chocni přisedla do kupé, kde manžel seděl.

Později jsme se shodli na tom, že obvykle jsme se každý prostě posadili do kupé, sedli jsme, četli jsme a s nikým jsme se nebavili. Ale tehdy jsem se ho já zeptala, jestli je tam volné místo, on řekl, že ano, a hned jsme se dali do řeči. Já jsem měla na sobě kožený kabát, který jsem si koupila v Bulharsku a kvůli kterému jsem měla kádrové popotahování. A můj manžel si kvůli němu myslel, že jsem estébačka 20 a velmi ho to iritovalo. Ale ono to tenkrát s tím kabátem bylo tak, že jsem ho v tom Bulharsku vyměnila za některé věci, ale kádrováci si mysleli, že jsem ho koupila a ptali se, jak jsem přišla k tolika penězům. Já jsem měla v Bulharsku provdanou spolužačku z gymnázia a ta mi dosvědčila, že mi ten kabát dala. Takže jsme se začali bavit o povolání. Já jsem mu řekla svoje a pak jsem se ptala, čím je on. Na to odpověděl, že učí. Moje otázka, zda na základní škole, ho popudila. Řekl mi, že ne, že učí na konzervatoři.

No a pak jsme se začali bavit o hudbě. Já sama jsem velmi dlouho chodila na klavír, ale tenkrát mi dali najevo, že jsem sice nadaná, ale že to nikdy daleko nepřivedu. Chodívala jsem k jedné paní učitelce, jmenovala se Emilie Votroubková. Ta nade mnou stála, bouchala mě přes prsty a onikala mi. A říkala: „Já jsem přesvědčená, že já až umřu, tak ona mně na pohřeb nepůjde.“ Po válce jsem měla dokonce koncert. Ale ten dopadl velmi neslavně. Já jsem totiž po válce chodila ještě na pianovou harmoniku, to jsem si vymohla, no a když bylo veřejné vystoupení, tak mi pan učitel řekl: „Radím ti, vezmi si s sebou noty.“ Ale já jsem odpověděla: „Vyloučeno, já to umím perfektně zpaměti.“ Dostala jsem se přes nejtěžší místo a konec. Ale já jsem nikdy nebyla na veřejná vystoupení. Já jsem se nerada předváděla na veřejnosti. Na rozdíl od Anity Frankové. Která kdykoliv na požádání zazpívala. I já jsem zpívávala ve sboru, ve školním sboru.

Svému budoucímu manželovi jsem řekla, že mám ráda Janáčka [Leoš Janáček (1854-1928): český skladatel, pedagog, významný folklorista a čelní představitel moderní hudby – pozn. red.] on řekl, že má rád Mozarta [Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791): rakúsky skladatel. Jeden z nejvýznamnějších osobností světové hudby – pozn. red.]. Zjistili jsme, že se tedy absolutně neshodneme. Dojeli jsme do Prahy, vyšli jsme na stanici tramvaje a tam stál a čekal na tramvaj manželův bývalý žák - manžel jeden čas učil ve Vysokém Mýtě na průmyslovce hudební výchovu – ale zároveň můj spolupracovník. Protože to byl technik a pracoval v našem Ústavu. Oba jsme k němu šli a oba jsme s ním chtěli toho druhého seznámit. A on říká: „Já Vás oba znám.“ Načež se nám blížila tramvaj, já jsem s tím panem Peterkou nastoupila do tramvaje a manžel říká: „Pane Peterko, jaké máte číslo telefonu?“ A on na to: „To a to, ale slečna Freyová má linku tu a tu.“ V té tramvaji jsem pak vyzvídala: „Pane Peterko, prosím Vás, co to je za nemožného chlapa?“ A on mě na to povídá: „No dovolte, to je náhodou výborný člověk.“ Manžel mně druhý den zavolal a já jsem začala zkoumat, co je na něm výborného. A zkoumám to doposud.

Brali jsme se 28. ledna 1961. Já jsem byla přihlášená do bytového družstva a tehdy začala být reálná naděje, že dostaneme byt. To uspíšilo naše rozhodnutí. První dítě, dcera Hana, se nám narodila 15. ledna 1962. Syn Petr je mladší, ten se narodil 25. listopadu 1967.

Dcera je podruhé vdaná, protože její první muž, Jan Ševčík, se rok po svatbě zabil v autě. Brala si ho v roce 1985. V roce 1987 se seznámila se svým druhým manželem, Petrem Janišem, a v roce 1988 si ho vzala. Z druhého manželství má jednu dceru, dnes šestnáctiletou Terezku. Hana vystudovala DAMU, obor organizace a řízení divadel a kultury. Neboli produkci. Teď pracuje jako tisková mluvčí v různých podnicích.

Syn Petr je také ženatý, ten se ženil před deseti lety, tj. v roce 1995. Vzal si Lucii Blahetovou. Mají spolu dvě dcery, Kateřinu a Barboru. Kateřina se narodila 1. října 2000. Té druhé budou 9. října dva roky, takže se narodila v roce 2003. Petr má strojní průmyslovku, kterou si ale udělal až po vojně. Původně se totiž vyučil automechanikem. Teď studuje na vysoké škole v Brně, obor speciální výchova. Studuje tam dálkově, v rámci profese – on je totiž kriminalista – a měl to jako podmínku, aby mohl zůstat.

Co se mých dětí týká, řekla bych, že dcera má velmi židovské cítění. Říká, že to, že je míšenka, jí rozšiřuje její schopnost tolerance. Bere sama sebe jako Židovku, nepraktikuje, dokonce je ateistka, ale vnímá to tak, že má v sobě židovskou krev. Syn Petr o tom tolik nepřemýšlí, jenom řekl, že chce vstoupit do Židovské obce, což se mu podařilo, ale po důvodu jsem se ho neptala, protože on je velice uzavřený. Vůbec nevím, co ho k tomu vedlo. Obřezaný není a ani nijak víru nepraktikuje.

K víře však byly obě děti vychovávané, a to oboustranně. I manžel je totiž nábožensky založený. Děti to viděly, my jsme to před nimi nikdy netajili, a věděly, že se to prostě musí nějak spojit. Znaly rozdíly a viděly, že my se navzájem tolerujeme, čili to tolerovaly absolutně bez problému. U nás se slavily jak židovské, tak křesťanské svátky. Celá rodina se mnou doposud chodí na obec. O Chanuka nebo o Purim a Pesach. Sami svátky neslaví. O Vysokých svátcích teď už chodím sama nebo s manželem, protože děti na to prostě nemají čas. Ale když byly malí, tak chodily také. Vánoce jsem i já začala slavit, až když jsem se vdala. To jsme slavili tady u nás doma, strojili jsme stromeček a tak dále. Dnes je slavíme u dcery. Já to beru jako společenskou záležitost a příležitost, aby se mohla rodina sejít.

Co se volného času týče, kdysi jsem chodila velice pilně do divadla a na koncerty. Dnes již málo, protože jsem poněkud handicapovaná. Měla jsem zlomený krček a ještě dvě zlomeniny prvního bederního obratle – jedno loni a druhé letos. Takže teď jsem trochu unavenější. Chodívala jsem se svými kamarádkami, protože manžel nechodí nikam. Ten má doma svoji fonotéku a nechce být při tom rušen. Říká, že nesnáší na veřejných produkcích různé šoupání nohama a pokašlávání. Do kina v posledních letech chodívám také velmi málo, ale jako mladší jsme do kina chodili. V Litomyšli bylo jedno a jeden čas, myslím, i dvě. Byla jsem tam i před válkou, to tenkrát dávali Sněhurku.

Také jsem hodně chodívala na studentské plesy, ty měly výbornou úroveň. Taneční jsou dnes formálně stejné jako tenkrát, ale obsahově ne. Já jsem tady v Praze chodila loni do tanečních s vnučkou, to byla sešlost lidí - nechci říct společnost lidí - kteří se naprosto neznali, kdežto my jsme se tam na tom malém městě všichni znali. Byly to pouze studentské taneční, a tak jsme tam byli jednolitá společnost a dá se říci dobrá společnost. Pokud si pamatuji, do tanečních jsme chodívali jednou týdně, ale jak dlouho trvaly, to už nevím. V Praze jsem pak chodívala na plesy se společností přátel. Manžel totiž netančí. Taneční sice absolvoval a několikrát, ale pouze jako klavírista. Na tanec je absolutní antitalent.

Takže volný čas často trávím s přítelkyněmi. Nějaká přátelství mně zůstala i z dávných dob. Například minulý týden jsem byla na návštěvě u jedné kamarádky ještě z předškolního věku – to je takové dlouhodobé přátelství. Stále se přátelím i s tou spolužačkou, která si se mnou chodila ve válce hrát, a s děvčaty z gymnázia. V současné době míváme srazy každý rok. Původně to tedy bylo každých pět let, potom každé tři roky a nyní tedy každý rok. Občas si píšeme. Jezdívaly jsme spolu společně i na výlety, ale teď již ne. Dělávaly jsme to samozřejmě za svobodna ve skautingu. To jsme jezdily na tábory, výlety a tak. Nejen v okolí Litomyšle. V devětačtyřicátém jsme byly ve Svatojánské dolině na Slovensku. Skauti jsou dívčí a klukovské. My jsme vždycky jezdily tak, že kluci tábor vybudovali a byli tam prvních čtrnáct dní. My jsme je potom vystřídaly a tábor jsme zbouraly. Chodila jsem tam ráda, byla tam děvčata, která mně byla blízká, skautská myšlenka mně byla blízká, prostě tam byla dobrá společnost. Začala jsem tam chodit v sedmačtyřicátém o prázdninách. V roce čtyřicet devět po prázdninách byl bohužel skaut zrušen.

Ani já jsem nikdy nerozlišovala, jestli jsou mými přáteli Židé nebo ne. To ani nebylo možné, nás tam bylo jen dvanáct dětí. A v mém věku jedině Anita Franková. S tou jsem dodnes v dobrých přátelských vztazích. I když nemáme čas se sejít, jen si to slibujeme.

Můj vztah ke komunistickému režimu byl jednoznačný a podložený mnoha fakty. Ale na výslechu jsem kvůli svým příbuzným na Západě nikdy nebyla. Naši korespondenci asi kontrolovali, ale my jsme samozřejmě psali velmi opatrně. Snažili jsme se poslouchat i Svobodnou Evropu a tak, ale bylo to velmi obtížné, protože v Praze to bylo velice rušené. Mimo Prahu to bylo snazší. A občas jsem se dostala i k samizdatu 21.

V práci jsme naštěstí byli taková dobrá skupina, nebyl tam žádný komunista. V roce 1968 22 sice emigroval ředitel Ústavu, se kterým jsem byla a dosud jsem – doufám, že ještě žije – ve velmi dobrých přátelských vztazích a dokonce jsem ho byla i v roce 1992 navštívit v Anglii, ale i s novým ředitelem jsme byli spřáteleni.

V roce sedmdesát čtyři tomu ale udělali rázný konec, nastoupil „soudruh“ ředitel a bylo zle. Například tušil, nebo mu to snad někdo donesl, že v knihovně se vlastně shromažďují všechny informace, že tedy tam všechno víme. Pozval si mě a chtěl, abych mu donášela. Já jsem to odmítla. A od té doby jsem měla nejnižší plat a nejnižší odměny. Ale neměl možnost mě dostat pryč, protože jsem byla chráněna dvěstěpětapadesátkou, neboli paragrafem 255/46 o výhodách lidí, kteří se vrátili z koncentračních táborů. Takže výpověď mi dát nemohl. Ale v roce 1981, když v Polsku přišla ke slovu Solidarita 23, zkoušel to navléknout na toto kopyto. Jednoho dne roku 1981 jsem doma při návratu z práce našla ve schránce úřední lístek, kde bylo napsáno: „Dostavte se druhý den v tolik a v tolik hodin dopoledne do Bartolomějské číslo 4. Podle paragrafu XY.“ Říkala jsem si: „Propánakrále, co jsem mohla udělat?“ A šla jsem na místní VB [Verejní Bezpečnost, dnes Policie – pozn. red.] a ptala jsem se jich, co je to za paragraf. A oni mi řekli, že jde o rozkrádání majetku v socialistickém vlastnictví. Já jsem si říkala: „Vždyť já jsem nemohla nikde nic ukrást. Nejsem si ničeho vědoma.“ Druhý den jsem šla tedy do té Bartolomějské, přišla jsem do vrátnice a říkala jsem: „Prosím Vás, tady asi bude omyl, protože to má být ten a ten paragraf a já si nejsem vědoma, že bych byla něco ukradla.“ Ten vrátný odpověděl: „No, třeba jste něco ukradla v opilosti.“ Na to jsem mu řekla: „Prosím Vás, já jsem byla naposledy opilá, když mně byly tři roky.“ A on vylítl a řekl: „No dovolte. Víte, co z toho mohlo být!“ Já říkám, že naštěstí z toho nebylo nic. Tak mě zavedl nahoru a tam někdo seděl a dával mně otázky tu z té strany, tu z oné strany. Po nějaké době mě přešla trpělivost a říkám: „Prosím Vás, řekněte mi, co ode mě vlastně chcete. Vy tady ztrácíte svůj pracovní čas, já ztrácím svůj pracovní čas.“ No, tak pak z něj vyšlo, jestli prý nemám spojení se Solidaritou. Jestli od ní nedostávám nějakou literaturu. A jestli jsem ve styku se zahraničím. Na to jsem řekla: „Ano jsem. Protože tam mám hodně příbuzných, kteří tam emigrovali před Hitlerem.“ Na ty, kteří emigrovali po šedesátém osmém, na ty jsem jaksi pozapomněla. No a takhle jsme se chvíli bavili, on se ptal, jestli jsem těm příbuzným náhodou nepíši, že se mi tady něco nelíbí. Na to jsem namítla, co bych jim ale měla psát. No a takhle to trvalo ještě chvíli a pak řekl: „No tak můžete jít domů.“ A já na to: „Nepůjdu domů, dokud od Vás nedostanu úřední potvrzení, že jsem tady byla, protože to potřebuji do práce.“ Ten člověk odpověděl: „To je mi líto, ale já Vás tady nemůžu nechat samotnou.“ A já říkám: „Tak mně je to taky líto, ale já odsud prostě bez toho potvrzení nepůjdu.“ A tak mi řekl: „Zůstaňte sedět, ani se nehněte“, zmačknul nějaký knoflík pod stolem a za chvíli přišel, přinesl mi potvrzení a já jsem šla domů.

Takže ani to se novému panu řediteli nepovedlo. Až když jsem zjistila, že i přes své poměrně minimální příjmy pro mě bude nejvýhodnější jít k prvnímu prosinci 1988 do důchodu, tak jsem odešla sama. I když vzhledem k té dvěstěpětapadesátce jsem byla v důchodovém věku už v roce1982. A pak přišel rok 1989 24. V té době jsem ale byla hlavně zaměstnaná hlídáním své nejstarší vnučky Terezky. Vozila jsem ji v kočárku na Petřín a sledovala davy lidí, kteří chodí a demonstrují. Ale sama jsem samozřejmě také chodila, byla jsem na Václavském náměstí i na Letné.

Jinak cestovat jsem mohla již za komunismu. Moje maminka i já jsme byly v Anglii u příbuzných. A potom i v dvaadevadesátém. V současné době nikam moc nejezdíme, prázdniny jsme trávívali částečně sami a částečně s dětmi a jejich rodinami. Občas jsme hlídali Terezku. Ty malé holčičky jsme v podstatě hlídali jenom příležitostně. Letos poprvé jsme s nimi byli v Litomyšli.

Před rokem padesát měla maminka velkou chuť emigrovat. Já jsem trvala na tom, že chci maturovat na litomyšlském gymnáziu. Pak v šedesátém osmém jsem měla chuť emigrovat já, ale to už jsem byla vdaná a manžel odjet nechtěl. Chtěla jsem jet třeba do Kanady, kde jsem měla spoustu příbuzných. V Izraeli žádné příbuzné nemám, i když nějaké známé, emigranty, ano. A s nimi jsem se tam, když jsem do Izraele přijela, velice ráda sešla a bylo mně s nimi dobře. Jsem přesvědčená, že Izrael vzniknout měl a že lidé, kteří tam žijí, jsou tam šťastní a cítí se tam doma. Ale já bych se tam, myslím, doma necítila. Já jsem zvyklá na křesťanské prostředí.

V Izraeli jsem byla čtyřikrát. Poprvé jsem tam byla tehdy s prezidentem Havlem 25 v dubnu devadesátého roku. To byla ta jeho první cesta do Izraele, kdy nás vzal některé sebou, myslím, že nás bylo devadesát, ale ruku do ohně bych za to nestrčila. Tenkrát tam byl nějaký program, balet či koncert a v rámci toho měl Havel a Kňažko 26 projev. Kňažko mě velmi nepříjemně překvapil, protože Havel tehdy mluvil za Československo, ale Kňažko za Slovensko. Už tehdy tam byla vidět snaha se oddělit. Pak nás zavedli na jeruzalémskou univerzitu, kde byla nějaká výstava holocaustu. A byli jsme v Yad Vashem. V květnu téhož roku jsem tam byla na kongresu International Council of Jewish Women. Potřetí jsem tam byla s cestovní kanceláří na poznávacím zájezdu, to bylo asi na týden, takový běžný zájezd s cestovní kanceláří, velká skupina, autobus. Jela jsem tam tenkrát ještě s Anitou Frankovou. Počtvrté jsem tam byla znovu na kongresu International Council of Jewish Women.

Při té oficiální cestě jsem bydlela u příbuzných mé kamarádky a ti nás vzali na návštěvu různých památek a při těch dvou kongresech nás také vždycky zavezli na nějaký výlet. Pokaždé do Yad Vashem a pak ještě jednou do Negevské pouště k beduínům.

Můj první dojem z návštěvy Izraele byl, že šlapu v Bibli. A ten dojem mě provázel stále. Zvláště mě zaujalo jeruzalémské Staré město, Jaffa Gate, prostě celé to město. Byla jsem samozřejmě i u Zdi nářků. Nejprve nás tam jelo víc a pak jsem tam byla ještě se známými znovu. Líbila se mi ale i další města, které jsem navštívila na poznávacím zájezdu. Třeba Jaffa nebo Tel Aviv a Betlehem. Byli jsme i na Masadě, na Olivetské hoře nebo v Nazaretu, tam se mně hodně líbilo. Pro mě bylo zajímavé navštěvovat jak židovské, tak křesťanské památky. Spíše negativní zážitky jsem měla tam dole, u Mrtvého moře a v Eilatu. Na Mrtvé moře jsem byla totiž velmi zvědavá, ale měla jsem nějaké oděrky, v normálním prostředí nepostřehnutelné, ale do té slané vody jsem nemohla. To mě velice trápilo. K Mrtvému moři bych proto už nikdy nechtěla. A Eilat se mně taky nelíbil, protože to je velkoměsto a je to vlastně obchod s mořem. Líbilo se mně tam to podmořské akvárium, to ano. A jinak mě naprosto nenadchla brusírna diamantů, protože to bylo také velmi komerčně zaměřeno. A nelíbila se mi průvodkyně z té cestovní kanceláře, protože se z toho jaksi snažila vyzískat co nejvíc pro sebe a o nás se nestarala. Měla jsem s ní určité nedorozumění, vůbec jsme se neshodly. Ne, žádnou lumpárnu jsem jí nevyvedla, spíš jsem jí vytýkala její nepřesnosti. A to již na letišti v Praze. A ona se k tomu stavěla vzdorně.

Nemohu říci, že bych se před svou první návštěvou Izraele na něco obzvlášť těšila. Byla jsem zvědavá na všechno. A všechno mě překvapilo.

Glosář:

1 Joseph II (1741-1790)

2 Terezin/Theresienstadt

3 Schuschnigg Kurt von (1897-1977)

rakúsky politik. V rokoch 1934-38 rakúsky spolkový kancelár. Pokračoval v Dollfusovej politike. 11. marca 1938 dostal Schuschnigg od Hitlera ultimátum, aby do strany prijal aj nacistických politikov, čo odmietol. V ten istý deň vydal Hitler rozkaz Wehrmachtu o vstupe na územie Rakúska. Po anšluse Rakúska, 13. marca 1938 bol Schuschnigg veznený. Po vojne žil v rokoch 1945-67 v USA.
Ilustrovaný encyklopedický slovník, Academia, Praha 1982, str. 261
www.dws.ozone.pl

4 Tobruk

prístavné mesto v Lýbii pri Stredozemnom mori. Počas 2. svetovej vojny sa viedli o Tobrúk ťažké boje, ktorých sa spolu s britskou armádou zúčastnili i československí vojaci. 22.1.1941 obsadený britským vojskom. 21.6.1942dobytí po niekoľkomesačnom obliehaní Wehrmachtom na čele s maršálom Rommelom. 12.-13.11.1942 znovu dobytí britským vojskom.
Ilustrovaný encyklopedický slovník, Academia, Praha 1982, str. 599

5 Kashrut in eating habits

6 Nucené vysídlení Němců

je jedním z označení pro masové deportace německého obyvatelstva z Československa, k němuž došlo po 2. světové válce v letech 1945-1946. Přestože protiněmecké nálady byly po druhé světové válce v české společnosti běžné, bývá autorství myšlenky řešit poválečné vztahy mezi Čechy a sudetskými Němci masovou deportací připisováno presidentu Edvardu Benešovi, který pro svůj záměr postupně získal podporu Spojenců. Deportace Němců z Československa byly spolu s deportacemi souvisejícími se změnou hranic Polska (asi 5 milionů Němců) největším poválečným přemístěním obyvatelstva v Evropě. V letech 1945-6 musely Československo opustit více než 3 miliony lidí; zůstat mohlo 250 000 Němců s omezenými občanskými právy.
http://cs.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vys%C3%ADdlen%C3%AD_N%C4%9Bmc%C5%AF_z_%C4%8Ceskoslovenska

7 Skoda Company

8 Sudetenland

Highly industrialized north-west frontier region that was transferred from the Austro-Hungarian Empire to the new state of Czechoslovakia in 1919. Together with the land a German-speaking minority of 3 million people was annexed, which became a constant source of tension both between the states of Germany, Austria and Czechoslovakia, and within Czechoslovakia. In 1935 a nazi-type party, the Sudeten German Party financed by the German government, was set up. Following the Munich Agreement in 1938 German troops occupied the Sudetenland. In 1945 Czechoslovakia regained the territory and pogroms started against the German and Hungarian minority. The Potsdam Agreement authorized Czechoslovakia to expel the entire German and Hungarian minority from the country.

9 Hitlerjugend

10 February 1948

Communist take-over in Czechoslovakia. The 'people’s domocracy' became one of the Soviet satelites in Eastern Europe. The state aparatus was centralized under the leadership of the Czechoslovak Communist Party (KSC). In the economy private ovnership was banned and submitted to central planning. The state took control of the educational system, too. Political opposition and dissident elements were persecuted.

11 Zapotocky, Antonin (1884-1957)

12 Anti-Jewish laws in the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia

In March 1939, there lived in the Protectorate 92,199 inhabitants classified according to the so-called Nuremberg Laws as Jews. On 21st June 1939, Konstantin von Neurath, the Reichs protector, passed the so-called Edict Regarding Jewish Property, which put restrictions on Jewish property. On 24th April 1940, a government edict was passed which eliminated Jews from economic activity. Similarly like previous legal changes it was based on the Nuremburg Law definitions and limited the legal standing of Jews. According to the law, Jews couldn’t perform any functions (honorary or paid) in the courts or public service and couldn’t participate at all in politics, be members of Jewish organizations and other organizations of social, cultural and economic nature. They were completely barred from performing any independent occupation, couldn’t work as lawyers, doctors, veterinarians, notaries, defence attorneys and so on. Jewish residents could participate in public life only in the realm of religious Jewish organizations. Jews were forbidden to enter certain streets, squares, parks and other public places. From September 1939 they were forbidden from being outside their home after 8pm. Beginning in November 1939 they couldn’t leave, even temporarily, their place of residence without special permission. Residents of Jewish extraction were barred from visiting theatres and cinemas, restaurants and cafés, swimming pools, libraries and other entertainment and sports centres. On public transport they were limited to standing room in the last car, in trains they weren’t allowed to use dining or sleeping cars and could ride only in the lowest class, again only in the last car. They weren’t allowed entry into waiting rooms and other station facilities. The Nazis limited shopping hours for Jews to twice two hours and later only two hours per day. They confiscated radio equipment and limited their choice of groceries. Jews weren’t allowed to keep animals at home. Jewish children were prevented from visiting German, and, from August 1940, also Czech public and private schools. In March 1941 even so-called re-education courses organized by the Jewish Religious Community were forbidden, and from June 1942 also education in Jewish schools. To eliminate Jews from society it was important that they be easily identifiable. Beginning in March 1940, citizenship cards of Jews were marked by the letter ‘J’ (for Jude – Jew). From 1st September 1941 Jews older than six could only go out in public if they wore a yellow six-pointed star with ‘Jude’ written on it on their clothing.
13 Mobilizace v září 1938: Nástup nacistů k moci v Německu v roce 1933, představoval zásadní přelom v zahraničně-politickém postavení Československa. Rostoucí napětí druhé poloviny 30. let nakonec vyvrcholilo v roce 1938, kdy vzrůstající agresivita sousedního Německa vedla nejprve k přijetí mimořádných opatření v době 20. května do 22. června a nakonec k vyhlášení všeobecné mobilizace 23. září 1938. Po léta pracně budovaný bezpečnostní systém Československa se ovšem na přelomu září 1938 zhroutil. Hlavní spojenec Francie nás nutil k podrobení se Německu a netajil se tím, že vojenskou pomoc nehodlá poskytnout. Pomoc Sovětského svazu, sama ostatně dost problematická, byla podmíněna postojem Francie. Další státy tj. Maďarsko a Polsko, jen čekaly, kdy budou moci získat také něco pro sebe. http://www.military.cz/opevneni/mobilizace.html
14 Heydrichiade: Period of harsh reprisals against the Czech resistance movement and against the Czech nation under the German occupation (1939–45). It started in September 1941 with the appointment of R. Heydrich as Reichsprotektor of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, who declared martial law and executed the representatives of the local resistance. The Heydrichiade came to its peak after Heydrich’s assassination in May 1942. After his death, martial law was introduced until early July 1942, in the framework of which Czech patriots were executed and deported to concentration camps, and the towns of Lidice and Lezaky were annihilated. Sometimes the term Heydrichiade is used to refer to the period of martial law after Heydrich’s assassination.

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 Sokol: One of the best-known Czech sports organizations. It was founded in 1862 as the first physical educational organization in the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. Besides regular training of all age groups, units organized sports competitions, colorful gymnastics rallies, cultural events including drama, literature and music, excursions and youth camps. Although its main goal had always been the promotion of national health and sports, Sokol also played a key role in the national resistance to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Nazi occupation and the communist regime. Sokol flourished between the two World Wars; its membership grew to over a million. Important statesmen, including the first two presidents of interwar Czechoslovakia, Tomas Masaryk and Edvard Benes, were members of Sokol. Sokol was banned three times: during World War I, during the Nazi occupation and finally by the communists after 1948, but branches of the organization continued to exist abroad. Sokol was restored in 1990.

17 Terezin Initiative Foundation (Nadace Terezinska iniciativa)

18 Subcarpathian Ruthenia

is found in the region where the Carpathian Mountains meet the Central Dnieper Lowlands. Its larger towns are Beregovo, Mukacevo and Hust. Up until the First World War the region belonged to the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, but in the year 1919, according to the St. Germain peace treaty, was made a part of Czechoslovakia. Exact statistics regarding ethnic and linguistic composition of the population aren’t available. Between the two World Wars Ruthenia’s inhabitants included Hungarians, Ruthenians, Russians, Ukrainians, Czechs and Slovaks, plus numerous Jewish and Gypsy communities. The first Viennese Arbitration (1938) gave Hungary that part of Ruthenia inhabited by Hungarians. The remainder of the region gained autonomy within Czechoslovakia, and was occupied by Hungarian troops. In 1944 the Soviet Army and local resistance units took power in Ruthenia. According to an agreement dated June 29, 1945, Czechoslovakia ceded the region to the Soviet Union. Up until 1991 it was a part of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. After Ukraine declared its independence, it became one of the country’s administrative regions.
19 Nemcova Bozena (1820 –1862): whose maiden name was Barbora Panklova, was born in Vienna into the family of Johann Pankl, a nobleman’s coachman. Was significantly influenced during the years 1825-29 by her upbringing at the hands of her grandmother Magdalena Novotna. In 1837 she was married to financial official Josef Nemec. She contributed to a number of magazines. She was inspired by the stories of common folk to write seven collections of folk tales and legends and ten collections of Slovak fairy tales and legends, which are generally a gripping fictional adaptation of fairy-tale themes. Through her works Nemcova has to her credit the bringing together of the Czech and Slovak nations and their cultures. She is the author of travelogues and ethnographic sketches, realistic stories of the countryside (Crazy Bara, Mountain Village, Karla, The Teacher, At The Chateau And The Village Below) and the supreme novel Granny. Thanks to her rich folkloristic work and particularly her work Granny, Bozena Nemcova has taken her place among Czech national icons.

20 Statni Tajna Bezpecnost

Czech intelligence and security service founded in 1948.

21 Samizdat literature in Czechoslovakia

The secret publication and distribution of government-banned literature in the former Soviet block. Typically, it was typewritten on thin paper (to facilitate the production of as many carbon copies as possible) and circulated by hand, initially to a group of trusted friends, who then made further typewritten copies and distributed them clandestinely. Material circulated in this way included fiction, poetry, memoirs, historical works, political treatises, petitions, religious tracts, and journals. The penalty for those accused of being involved in samizdat activities varied according to the political climate, from harassment to detention or severe terms of imprisonment. In Czechoslovakia, there was a boom in Samizdat literature after 1948 and, in particular, after 1968, with the establishment of a number of Samizdat editions supervised by writers, literary critics and publicists: Petlice (editor L. Vaculik), Expedice (editor J. Lopatka), as well as, among others, Ceska expedice (Czech Expedition), Popelnice (Garbage Can) and Prazska imaginace (Prague Imagination).

22 Prague Spring

23 Events of 1989 in Poland

In 1989 the communist regime in Poland finally collapsed and the process of forming a multiparty, pluralistic, democratic political system and introducing a capitalist economy began. Communist policy and the deepening economic crisis since the early 1980s had caused increasing social discontent and weariness and the radicalization of moods among Solidarity activists (Solidarity: a trade union that developed into a political party and played a key role in overthrowing communism). On 13th December 1981 the PZPR had introduced martial law (lifted on 22nd June 1983). Growing economic difficulties, social moods and the strength of the opposition persuaded the national authorities to begin gradually liberalizing the political system. Changes in the USSR also influenced the policy of the PZPR. A series of strikes in April-May and August 1988, and demonstrations in many towns and cities forced the authorities to seek a compromise with the opposition. After a few months of meetings and consultations the Round Table negotiations took place (6th Feb.-5th April 1989) with the participation of Solidarity activists (Lech Walesa) and the democratic opposition (Bronislaw Geremek, Jacek Kuron, Tadeusz Mazowiecki). The resolutions it passed signaled the end of the PZPR’s monopoly on power and cleared the way for the overthrow of the system. In parliamentary elections (4th June 1989) the PZPR and its subordinate political groups suffered defeat. In fall 1989 a program of fundamental economic, social and ownership transformations was drawn up and in January 1990 the PZPR dissolved.

24 Velvet Revolution

25 Havel, Vaclav (1936- )

Czech dramatist, poet and politician. Havel was an active figure in the liberalization movement leading to the Prague Spring, and after the Soviet-led intervention in 1968 he became a spokesman of the civil right movement called Charter 77. He was arrested for political reasons in 1977 and 1979. He became President of the Czech and Slovak Republic in 1989 and was President of the Czech Republic after the secession of Slovakia until January 2003.
26 Milan Kňažko (1945- ): slovenský herec, politik a riaditeľ televízie JOJ. V októbri 1989 ako jediný v ČSSR vrátil titul zaslúžilý umelec pre nesúhlas s politikou vtedajšieho režimu. V novembri 1989 vstúpil do politického diania. Bol poradcom prezidenta Václava Havla a zároveň poslancom Snemovne ľudu Federálneho zhromaždenia ČSFR. Od júna 1990 do 28. augusta 1990 bol ministrom medzinárodných vzťahov SR a v rokoch 1992 - 1993 podpredsedom vlády SR a ministrom zahraničných vecí SR. Od marca 1993 do októbra 1998 bol poslancom NR SR a od roku 1998 zastával štyri roky post ministra kultúry SR. http://sk.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milan_K%C5%88a%C5%BEko

Henryk Prajs

Henryk Prajs
Gora Kalwaria
Poland
Interviewer: Aleksandra Bankowska
Date of interview: January 2005

Mr. Henryk Prajs is a cheerful and friendly person. He participates in the activities of various veterans organizations and is also a member of the Social and Cultural Society of Polish Jews seniors club in Warsaw. We met at his house in Gora Kalwaria near Warsaw, where he lives by himself. He feels very closely bound up with his town. Mr. Prajs is a very talkative person, although often wandering off subject and into digressions. During our conversations he stressed his Polish identity and his liberal views time and again. He asked me to stop recording a couple of times, not wanting to disclose certain information publicly.

My family history
Growing up
In the army
During the war
In hiding
After the war
Recent years

My family history

My grandparents came to Gora Kalwaria 1 from the Kielce region [town ca. 180 km south of Warsaw]. I know for sure since 1850 my father's side of the family lived in Gora Kalwaria, on Pilsudskiego Street, and they had their own little house there. It's no longer there, the Germans pulled it down. My paternal grandfather was called Majer Bejer Prajs. He worked as a middleman, ordering dairy products - cream, milk - and delivering them to Warsaw, for Jews only, as it was all kosher. I remember him as a brisk elderly man with a short gray beard and a 'krymkowka,' a Crimean cap [a round black cap with a small visor]. I have his death certificate, he died in 1930. My grandmother was called Golda, but I never knew her, I think she died before I was born.

They had many children. My father's brothers were called Nusyn and Mojsze. Nusyn didn't have a proper job or profession. Sometimes he worked picking apples, give a hand somewhere, and so on. There were lots of people like him among the Jewish poor. Mojsze had a horse cab; he made his living driving people places. He used to drive the judge to the court for example, he had his regulars. He had two children, Josla and Golda. Every one of them had a daughter called Golda; they were given that name after Grandma. He lived with his family in Gora Kalwaria, in a wooden house, just like us, nothing fancy whatsoever, definitely in poverty.

Father's sisters were called Kaila, Malka, and Chana. Kaila's husband, Herszek Bogman, was a shoemaker. They had children, too, but I don't remember them all, it was a lot of people. There was Hudeska, Glika, and a boy called Mosze.

Father's younger sister was called Malka. Her husband was Dawid Szyniawer. He was a Torah scribe; it's called a soyfer [sofer]. You know, he wrote the Jewish [Hebrew] letters from right to left, on a parchment. It has to be officially approved calfskin, very thin; they only write on that, it's forbidden to use anything else. Malka had many children, that is: Mojsze, Szulim, Eta, Mendel, Josel, Ele, and Gedale. I do remember all of them because they lived nearby and were either my age or older.

Aunt Chana had a small notions shop. Her husband's last name was Szoskiel, but I don't remember his first name, Duwid perhaps? She had two children, a daughter called Golda and a son, Ele.

I didn't know my maternal grandparents. They were seldom spoken of at our home; it wasn't considered an important subject. Mom's family was called Frydman. They lived in the country not far from Gora Kalwaria, they had an estate [sic] in Coniew. Not a big one it was, a garden and a little house. They moved to Gora Kalwaria before the war, in 1937 or 1938, and didn't live there anymore. We didn't see each other much at the time, as I was in the army. I can tell you they were truly religious Jews.

Mom had many brothers and sisters as well. Her eldest sister was called Frajda, then came Mom, after her Szulim, after Szulim came Chana, after Chana came Glika, and after Glika Iciek, and after Iciek came Fajga, and after Fajga came Sura.

Frajda had a husband, she lived in Piaseczno [town 15 km north of Gora Kalwaria] and so I can't tell anything about her because I don't know. Szulim had a family in Gora Kalwaria. His wife was called Czarna, they had four children: Herszel, Josek, Gina, and Rachel. Szulim was a tailor, he used to make the so-called 'tandeta,' shoddy clothes. They were called 'tandeciarze,' second-rate tailors, you know, because they made the worst quality, the cheapest clothes. While in pre-war times you had to pay a tailor 25 zlotys for a suit, just for the tailoring, a 'tandeciarz' would bill you 23 for the whole suit: fabric, tailoring, the whole nine yards. The poor from the villages as well as the towns would buy it. He [Szulim] made those shoddy clothes and sold them at the market. The fair was held once a week, on Tuesdays I think.

Mom's sister Chana was a housewife, her husband's name was Mosze Warym. They had a restaurant in Gora Kalwaria at the main square, on the corner of Pilsudskiego and Pijarska streets. I think they had three children, Motek, Gedale, and yet another Gina.

Glika didn't have any children, she was a spinster. She worked as a seamstress. She only made underwear, men's and ladies' shirts. Iciek had a shop in Warsaw on 4 Sowia Street, with dairy products. He was doing very well. I don't remember his wife's name. He had three children. One of them was Gina, nicknamed Genia, but I don't remember the rest, they were little children.

Sura was a spinster as well, she never got married. She was a seamstress. There was also Fajga, a seamstress as well, she only made men's trousers. Fajga died two weeks before the expulsion of Jews [from Gora Kalwaria] in 1941. She was still buried in Gora Kalwaria. She passed away peacefully, so to speak. She was buried according to the Jewish rite. It's weird, we actually envied her that she died naturally and didn't live to witness the catastrophe. I know more or less where we buried her, but the tombstone is gone.

How is one buried according to the Jewish rite? A person dies, you have to bury his the very same day, you don't wait to check if it's some coma or not. Basically there's a regular grave you know, and the Jewish coffin consists of seven boards, two boards a side, 20-30 centimeters wide, joined without any nails, because the world is open, and the coffin must not be closed, or nailed. The corpse is put on the naked ground and it's all covered with three boards. That's the ritual burial. And you say prayers at a funeral.

My parents were born between 1890 and 1892. My father was called Jankiel and my mother Estera. They met each other, as it used to be back then, through a matchmaker. Mom was a very attractive woman, of medium height, with a round face and very pretty eyes. I have Mom's eyes. She didn't wear a wig, she had nice hair. And Father was tall, blond, very unlike a Jew. He had a finger missing. He had cut it off himself so that they wouldn't draft him to the tsarist army. He could only write in Yiddish and not in Polish. In Russian, he was just able to sign his name, just like Mom. [Editor's note: Prior to WWI that part of Poland was under the Russian rule, meaning the official language was Russian.]

Mom was a seamstress. Father traded orchards, I mean he leased them from the farmers, utilized them, watched over them, sprayed them, and sold the fruits. Often he would buy ripe fruits and sell them. Sometimes he traded chickens or geese. He was a small time merchant; he didn't have his own stall. We always lacked money. I come from a poor family, very honest people, very hard-working, but they were not rich.

We only spoke Yiddish at home. My parents dressed the European way, observed the [religious] rules, the food was kosher. My father didn't go to the synagogue very often, not on every Saturday, and Mom only once a year, on Yom Kippur. There were two synagogues in Gora Kalwaria. One belonged to the kahal, the Jewish community, a progressive one, and the other belonged to the tzaddik [Rabbi Avraham Mordechai Alter, or Imrei Emes, 4th rebbe of the Ger dynasty, the last of the dynasty to live in Poland]. My parents used to go to the progressive synagogue.

I was born on 30th December 1916 as Froim Fiszel. I had a sister and a brother. My sister's name was Golda, after Grandma. She was older than me, she was born in 1914. She was a pretty young girl, dark haired. She was a very good student, one of the best in her class. She finished seven grades of the Polish elementary school. When she was 16 or 17 she went to Warsaw and became a bookkeeper in a small soap factory on 12 Radzyminska Street in the Praga district. They paid her rather well, 120-130 zlotys per month. It was not too much, but you could get on. Bread was very cheap back then, 25, 35, 50 groszes [1 Polish zloty = 100 Polish groszes], a bun two groszes, five groszes.

It was a small workshop in the backyard plus a shop, six or seven people were employed there, they made and sold various soaps and washing articles. My sister lived with the factory's owners, the Hirszhorns, they were Jews. I was in Warsaw once or twice before the war, and stayed with my sister there, once as I was on furloughed from the army.

My brother Dawid was born in 1919. He completed six grades, he was a good student, too. He was a handsome, tall man, he had a slight squint though, he had good sight, but his left eye would always wander a bit to the side. After finishing school he learned saddle making. A saddler makes saddles, harnesses, horse-collars. We were both members of the youth organization 'Frayhayt' of the Right Poalei Zion 2 party. My brother hadn't been in the army, his year had not yet been drafted [when the war broke out].

We lived in Gora Kalwaria. The town was founded by the Poznan bishop Stefan Wierzbowski to symbolize Jerusalem. [Editor's note: the urban design and toponymy of Gora Kalwaria, or Calvary Hill, was intended by its founder to recall the Jerusalem of Jesus's times; it was even called New Jerusalem at first]. That's why dissenters [non-Catholics] couldn't live there. The ban wasn't canceled until Napoleonic times and the Congressional Kingdom [Editor's note: actually earlier, in 1797; the Congressional Kingdom, or the Kingdom of Poland, was created after Napoleon's fall, in 1815].

The Jews started to settle in Gora Kalwaria in 1802. In the 1930s there were already 3,000 Jews and 3,500 Poles. It was a very primitive town at the time. No waterworks whatsoever, just some wells far apart, you needed to walk some couple hundred meters to fetch water. It was only Mayor Dziejko [in the 1930s] who ordered pumps to be installed on every street and so you could take water from just next to your house. Electricity was introduced in Gora Kalwaria in the 1920s, but the poor households didn't have it until shortly before the war. Luckily, we had electric lighting, because Mom was a seamstress and needed it to work. Everyone has fond memories of Mayor Dziejko, as he was a good host. He did much for the town, and with some help of Jewish money, too. When Jews came to see the tzaddik, they had to pay the mayor a zloty each. The money was then used for the town's needs.

The tzaddiks came to Gora Kalwaria from Przysucha and Kock. [Yitzchak Meir (Icik Majer), the founder of the Alter dynasty, was a disciple of tzaddiks Simcha Binem (Bunim) of Przysucha and Menachem Mendel of Kock (Kotzker Rebbe).] Since their arrival the inflow of Jews increased, most of them Orthodox. The Gora tzaddik [Yiddish: Gerer Rebbe] didn't have many followers in Gora itself, though.

The Gora Jews recognized the tzaddik from Kozienice rather than the one from Gora Kalwaria. [Editor's note: there were no tzaddiks in Kozienice between the two world wars; Mr. Prajs refers to the tradition of the Maggid of Kozienice, or Israel Yitzchak Hofstein (Hapstein), 1733-1814.] His followers were mostly outsiders. They came from all over Poland, from every city except maybe for the Poznan district, from all of eastern and southern Poland: Cracow, Rzeszow, Lodz, Warsaw, Lublin, all the small towns [surrounding the big cities]. They came to him on High Holidays. On New Year - or Rosh Hashanah in Hebrew, on Yom Kippur, and on Shavuot - or Pentecost, I'd say 2,000 Jews would come to Gora Kalwaria. They rented rooms from the local Jews. My Mom, for example, used to rent them a room to earn an extra zloty or two.

The tzaddik was well-known. I saw him a few times. Just an ordinary bearded Jew. I've never been one of his followers. In my opinion he was no sage, just a man who knew the Torah really well. Surely, there had to be something about him, since he had so many followers and everyone thought of him as a miracle-worker. Even the Poles respected him. There was a telling moment, when Cardinal Kakowski [Aleksander Kakowski, 1862-1938, archbishop of Warsaw, cardinal, politician] came to Gora Kalwaria in 1933 or 1934. They built a triumphal arch and everyone welcomed him, including the Jews with the rabbi. But the tzaddik did not come to greet the cardinal, and received him in his house instead. They exchanged gifts.

Growing up

We lived by my grandfather Majer's at Pilsudskiego Street. The house was made of wood and quite poor. The whole family was squeezed into one room. It was a big room, perhaps ten by six meters. There was everything in it: Mom's workbench, and a place to sleep, and the eating table, and we also did our homework there, but only after Mom had finished her work. Beds stood in the corner, the sewing machine by the window; the window had four or six panes and was next to the door, and to the left stood a chest to store this and that. The beds were behind a screen. The kitchen stove was made of bricks and a pipe connected it to the chimney. It was always very tidy, Mom kept things in order. The clients complimented her, as they came to see her.

There were three Polish and three Jewish families in our yard. We got on with each other very well, like a family. There was no anti-Semitism, none at all. Our Polish neighbors were called Wozniak, Rytko, and Jarosz, and the Jewish ones Bielawski and Kielman. When Mrs. Wozniak baked the holiday cakes, she used to come to my Mom and share them with her: 'Here, Estera, it's for your kids.' When we, on the other hand, got our matzot, Mom would bring it to Mrs. Wozniak and Zosia Jarosz just the same: 'Na, Zosia, take the matzah, take it.' I used to come to Wozniak's as if it was my house. And Mom taught Zosia how to sew.

My friends were mostly Poles: Mietek and Wladek Zetek, Janek Bialek, Wojciechowski, Wozniak, Stasiek Rytko, Maniek Jarosz, we all grew up together. We spent time together in the yard, played soccer, dodge-ball, and so on. We pretended we were soldiers. I was a bit older and so I was in charge, we made sabers out of tin scraps 'aaand maaarch, hut two three four, hut two three four!'

We celebrated all the Jewish holidays: Pesach, Rosh Hashanah. During Pesach everything in the house had to be kosher, there could be nothing containing leavened bread. Father always went to the synagogue and Mom prepared the breakfast. When he returned, we ate. The breakfast was a bit better than usually, just as the holiday supper; we had fish, broth, and such.

We sang various religious songs, according to the psalms appropriate for the time of year. On Rosh Hashanah the prayers in the synagogue lasted till well after midnight, at which time someone blew the shofar, or horn. This is to remind of Moses addressing the Jewish tribes as he received the Ten Commandments. On Yom Kippur one fasts all day. And Chanukkah and Purim were no different from any ordinary day. In the poor families there was nothing at all, just the prayers. If one was a strong believer, he would go to the synagogue in the evening to listen to the Esther's prayer [The Book of Esther, or Megillat Esther, is read aloud during Purim], because it [Purim] was a celebration of Esther's miracle. But it was no holiday.

On Fridays we simply had a supper after work. Saturdays I either worked or went to the organization [Mr. Prajs was at first a member of the Bund's children organization, Skif, and after that - of Frayhayt]. I didn't observe Sabbath too rigorously, and later not at all. It made my Mom sad, but I was progressive, not a bit religious, I didn't even pray anymore. I didn't feel the need to. And I dined at Mrs. Wozniakowa's [the neighbor], oh yes. I didn't observe the kashrut even in my early youth. Mom never knew it, God forbid, never, no one knew, it was unthinkable! They would separate my dishes right away, wouldn't use them at all. That's the rule, the Jewish rite.

What did Mom use to cook? I like fish Jewish style above all. Nothing else, really. Mom prepared fish thus: she skinned it, chopped some onion, added an egg, some salt and pepper, and mixed it all. Then she stuffed the skin with it, and cooked it for two hours.

What other dishes did Jews eat? Well, chulent. Chulent is very heavy, stodgy, nothing interesting really. You had to have an earthen pot. You filled it with potatoes, barley, some fat - oil or such, and a fair bit of meat, a beef shoulder for example. It was then covered, wrapped, and put into the stove for the whole night. It roasted till morning, and then was brought home and eaten after the prayers.

Rich Jews would put another pot inside the bigger one, not necessarily earthenware but made for example of metal, and fill it with some fancy tidbits, some delicacies. It also had to be covered so that the dishes couldn't mix. It was called kugel. It was a sort of pudding, a dessert, something like that. You only eat kugel on Saturdays after the prayers. You mustn't eat before that.

I know Jewish religion and I'm proud I do. Our parents sent me and my brother to a cheder. There were no illiterates among the Jews, because children had to be sent to school as soon as they were five, no matter what. A cheder could be organized in any Jewish house. Any Jew could teach in it, if he knew anything of the Jewish religion, didn't have to be some pundit. A dozen or so boys would gather, aged five to 12-13.

My teacher was called Majer Mesyng. The cheder was in his house on Kilinskiego Street. The building does no longer exist, it was demolished after the war. He taught us the Jewish [Hebrew] alphabet, how to write the names Abraham, Jacob, Isaac, David, showed us the east, west, north, and south, told us that Israel was located in Asia, and what Africa was. I attended it for five years, from age five to ten. I know Mishnah, Gemara, and I can still speak Hebrew and Yiddish.

My parents were not rich enough to throw any bar mitzvah party. When I turned 13, I went to the synagogue with my father and had to read aloud some passages from the Torah. You have to say those prayers in a special way, putting accents in all the right places. I did great. Father was proud of me. We went home, Mom prepared a festive dinner, I got 5 zlotys for saying the prayers so well, and that was it. My brother's bar mitzvah was exactly the same. Well, only he didn't read from the Torah as well as I did.

I went to a Polish elementary school at the age of seven. From 7am to 1 or 2pm I was at school, and after that I went to the cheder. At school they taught us Polish, math, geography, music, and from fourth grade on we also had German classes. Jews and Poles studied together, but the Jews were fewer. There were I think 36 people in my class, and only three of them Jewish: me - they called me Heniek at school, not Froim - Uszer, and Josel Mesing. I already knew Polish, because there were Poles in my yard, but it was definitely the school that taught me the proper grammar and basically to speak correct Polish. I was very popular at the school, I liked the teachers, I liked to study and had good marks, except for math, but otherwise I had A's and B's.

From among the teachers I'd mention Mrs. Karniewska, who taught German. She was my Mom's client. She often asked me to fetch something, or do something for her. No other favors, though. I remember celebrating 3rd May 3 at the school. Students from all the schools would gather in the morning and sing 'Long live May, the 3rd of May, it's like the paradise for all the Poles.' We would have an assembly in the evening. The firemen, the soldiers, and the students would parade through the town. I always took part in those celebrations.

When I was 12 or 13 my friends and I joined the Skif 4. Skif stands for Sotsyalkinderfarband, or the Socialist Youth Union, a children's organization connected with the Bund party 5. Bund was a social democratic party, struggling for the emancipation and equality of Jews. While still a 'skifist' I was the Gora Kalwaria delegate at the funeral of Bejnysz Michalewicz [a.k.a. Jozef Izbicki, 1876-1928, a Bund activist since 1905, pedagogue, journalist, co-founder of TsIShO (Central Jewish School Organization)], a Bund leader, on Okopowa Street in Warsaw. It was a huge funeral. Naturally, there were Bund delegates there, giving speeches: [Wiktor] Alter, [Jakub] Pat, I guess [Henryk] Ehrlich 6 as well, to name a few. There were lots of people from all over Poland. At some point we all left Skif. They wanted Jewish emancipation [instead of building a Jewish state], and that's not possible. Only two of us stayed: Krupka and one more person.

I preferred to join a Jewish [here: Zionist] organization, because I believed it necessary to build our own state. That's why I joined the Right Poalei Zion as a scout. I was still a kid, I was 14. It was a social democratic labor party, they wanted to liberate Palestine to create our own state in which the social democratic parties would flourish. There were maybe 50 of us [Frayhayt members] in Gora Kalwaria. We rented a room on Pilsudskiego Street. It was about 10 meters long and 7 wide. There was a library and everything else was there. The room was paid for from the membership fees. All the pre-war organizations were funded from membership fees, unless someone rich from abroad donated 100 zlotys, it was an awful lot of money before the war.

We often had our meetings there, always on a Saturday or Sunday, on free days. There were talks, excursions. The talks were basically about the culture, the world, what was going on, how things in India or China were, in Warsaw, or in the rest of the world. Basically the economic life, wars, and so on. If I knew something, I prepared a short speech. Do I recall any such speech? We fought for freedom, democracy, or the unions in other words, for equal rights, and against exploitation. You had to quote a paper, Robotnik [The Worker, a Warsaw newspaper of the Polish Socialist Party] or some Jewish paper. There were many different of those, the Bund published Folks-Shtime [Editor's note: probably Folks-Tsaytung, People's Journal, a newspaper published by the Bund; Folks-Shtime, People's Voice was published after WW II], there was Haynt 7, and later the orthodox Jews started to publish their paper, and the Zionists published some, you quoted one of them and basically gave a speech.

We didn't go on excursions, where would we go, we didn't have the money. But we did take walks into the woods on Saturday mornings in May. It was called Kepa, nowadays a pasture a few kilometers from Gora Kalwaria. There was also the so-called Klajnowski Forest, or Karolin, or we would simply take a walk to the river Wisla, if the weather was nice. There was always a lecturer on such trips and he gave his speech.

The chairman of the Gora Kalwaria branch of Poalei Zion was Mojsze Skrzypek. He was also our lecturer. We had those, well in Yiddish it's called 'kestelgesprekh,' talks. Questions were posed anonymously and the speaker would answer them. He spoke about literature for instance. Everything in Yiddish of course, I don't know if maybe ten people in Gora Kalwaria spoke Hebrew. Mojsze Skrzypek was an intelligent guy. I don't remember what he did for a living, perhaps he worked in some office, there was the Zajdemans soap factory, a bank, maybe he was a bookkeeper there, I don't know. Chaskiel Goldsztajn, Mendel Cukier, Chane Gotlib were my friends from the organization. I remember them all, I can still see their faces.

I didn't have much free time. You went to pick currants or give someone a hand to earn some money. When it was warm, we would go swimming in our free time, usually Saturdays. But I also read a lot. Historical novels, most of all. I remember books about Lokietek [Wladislaus I the Elbow-high], Kazimierz Wielki [Casimir III the Great], Zygmunt Stary [Sigismund I the Old; all three were Polish kings]. I do also remember some Jewish authors: Peretz 8, Sholem Aleichem 9, An-ski 10, Asch 11, Bergelson 12. I seldom bought books, didn't have the money. I was sometimes given books as a school prize. Mostly I borrowed them from a library.

There were three libraries in Gora Kalwaria. There was the Peretz's library, where the Jewish youth would meet up, no matter, left- or right- wing. That was the first one. As for the other two, the Bundists had their own library, and so did the Zionists. They only had the writings in accordance with their programs, as each party believed in different things. The Bundists were generally freethinkers, so they didn't even consider religious books, only contemporary literature, that's what they supported. I used to go to the library at the Zionists' place, to Poalei Zion. They had some literature, but it was no big library.

I read various newspapers, both Jewish and Polish. The Polish would be 'Kurier Codzienny' [full name 'Kurier Codzienny 5 groszy,' The Daily Herald 5 groszes, a pro-government paper published from 1932 to 1936], Oblicze dnia [The Day's Visage, a socialist weekly published in 1936], sometimes I even leafed through ABC [a weekly published by the nationalist Oboz Wielkiej Polski, Camp of Great Poland, from 1926 to 1939], an anti-Semitic magazine. When did you actually buy a paper? On Saturdays. Newspapers were pretty expensive, Haynt cost 1.20 zlotys, Moment 13 - 1.50, while other papers 40, 50 groszes. We read Haynt at home. My father was a member of a Jewish craftsmen organization called Handverker [Central Union of the Jewish Craftsmen of the Republic of Poland] 14 and they all read Haynt. They even got elected to the Sejm [the Parliament; the union formed part of the National Minorities Bloc that won 17% of the votes in the 1928 election]. Generally my father was apolitical, though.

Ever since 1933, when Hitler came to power 15, people grew more and more certain a war was coming. Everyone who had the chance to do so, fled to Israel [Editor's note: until 1948 Palestine]. Apart from that, the ones who fled were patriots, they wanted to build their own country, and did the right thing; emancipation is one thing, but having your country goes a long way. Many of my friends left before the war, Mojszele Rawski was one of them. At first before leaving they were Hahalutzim 16. They formed teams and took up the toughest tasks, trying to prepare for Israel, to build their country. They knew beginnings are always tough, so they learned to farm, to work in a sawmill, they learned the trade of masonry, all the worst drudgeries.

There were two kibbutzim in Gora Kalwaria. One belonged to the right-wing Zionists [the General Zionists party] 17, or Grinbaum's 18 democratic Zionists in other words. It was located in a house on the corner of Polna and Dominikanska streets. The whole upper floor was theirs. They had many talented people among them - there was a painter for example, she painted landscapes. The other kibbutz was on Ksiedza Sajny Street, the one leading down to the river. I don't remember what group they were.

My organization, Right Poalei Zion, didn't have a kibbutz in Gora Kalwaria. If one of us wanted to join a kibbutz, he had to go to the eastern regions of the country. Lots of folks were preparing for that, but I doubt if all of them actually left. It was hard to just leave your father, your mother, your brother, and go. I didn't take part in kibbutzim activities. Neither did I think about leaving for Israel.

Immediately after finishing elementary school I started to learn tailoring. My first master was Izrael Cybula, and I worked for him in the workshop on 15 Pilsudskiego Street for two years without a pay, in exchange for training. After that I had an exam in Jaszeniec near Warka. They had sort of a crafts corporation there, the so-called guild. I passed my apprentice exam, received a certificate, and was allowed to practice as a tailor. An apprentice can make a suit or a pair of trousers by himself. A trainee is being trained, but an apprentice should be able to do it himself. And a master can train others, he should know all the tricks of his trade.

Later I worked for various tailors, both Jewish and Polish, I worked for Cybula a month or two, when he had a job for me, I worked for Ryszard Gorecki, Jasinski, Jaworski, Pelc, in many different workshops. I didn't make much, 15-20 zlotys a week, it varied, because sometimes there was no job for me.

I was a member of the Tailors' Union. There were both Jews and Poles in it. I was the secretary of the Gora Kalwaria branch, and the voivodship [district] secretary had his office in Warsaw, on Leszno Street. The union [branch] had its own place, the size of this room maybe. And that was it. A stool in the middle and nothing else. So what can I say about such a union. When necessary, we organized some lectures and such. We couldn't call a strike, there was unemployment, well not as high as nowadays. You were happy to get a job at some shoemaker's, tailor's, cobbler's.

The union was funded from membership fees as well, there was no state funding. The municipality wouldn't give us anything. They gave some support to the unemployed a couple of times a year, about 5 zlotys, and the Poles would get 90 per cent, while the Jews maybe 5 per cent.

Jews before the war were mainly craftsmen, tailors, shoemakers, cobblers, saddlers, hat makers, all such professions, mainly services. How many truly wealthy Jews were there in Gora Kalwaria? Poloniecki, Rapaport, Wajnsztok, Mardyks, Doctor Rozenberg, ten at most. They mainly traded in grain, had their own houses, could have as much as 2,000, 3,000, 10,000 zlotys. Around 40 per cent of the Jewish population were from the middle class, and 50 per cent were poor. [Editor's note: the ten wealthy Jews accounted for much less than the remaining 10%]. I was one of the, well, not the very poor, but the poor. Before I started to work as an apprentice, we were living pretty much hand to mouth.

It was the poor who suffered most during the anti-Semitic riots 19. Because each wealthy Jew had some Polish friends, who would say, 'You can beat up all the Jews you want, but stay away from my Moszek.' It was no different in Gora Kalwaria. At the St. Anthony Day's fair [13th June] people placed their stalls and began to sell. Those from Falanga 20 came by, smashed the stalls, beat up some Jewish men and women. A tumult began, the police came, but it was already done. That's how things were in 1936, 1937, I don't know about later as I was in the army. They often started such riots. They were not pogroms, but brawls, beatings.

The Falangists came from Warka, Karczew, Otwock [towns in the dozen or so kilometer radius from Gora Kalwaria]. There was an Endeks 21 organization in Gora Kalwaria as well, but they used to go rumble somewhere else, not in our town. Mayor Dziejko and Police Chief Boleslaw Janica wouldn't allow it. There were fewer of such unrests thanks to them. Once, as they came to rumble, Janica told the Jews, 'Listen, people, you defend yourselves, and I'll handle the rest.' And so a self-defense was formed, no matter, Zionists, Communists, or Bundists but simply the Jewish youth, particularly the workers, coachmen, all the tough ones. They formed the self-defense and stood up to the attackers.

Janica and Dziejko were objective people, they'd say: 'Alright, he's a Jew, and let him be one - that doesn't bother me.' While in other towns no Jews were allowed into the city council, he, Dziejko had two Jewish councilors. I remember the last Jewish councilors were Szyje Kaufman and Aron Poznanski.

In the army

I was drafted at the age of 21. It was a regular draft, all the boys born in 1916 were drafted in November 1937. I served in the Jan Hipolit Kozietulski 3rd Mazovian Chevaux-Leger [Light Cavalry] Regiment in Suwalki. There were only three regiments of elite cavalry [the Chevaux-Legers] in Poland, the other two were the Jozef Pilsudski Regiment, stationed in Warsaw, and the Dwernicki Regiment in Stargard Gdanski. I was assigned to the regiment because I was an absolutely unblemished and loyal citizen, and I was not a member of any anti-Pilsudski 22 organizations. My commander was Colonel Edward Milewski, and my officer in charge - Borys Zaryn.

How was the army? Well, I was a tailor suddenly turned cavalryman. And I had always been afraid of horses. Well, I had seen them, pulling a coach for example, but that's different. I mounted a horse for the first time then, but I did learn to ride, and how! A recruit was trained for a few months and then given a rifle. I managed to figure it all out somehow.

In 1938 I was assigned to a non-commissioned officer school, as I had completed seven years of school. It wasn't very common, many of the recruits were illiterate. I used to write letters for everyone. They began with 'Praised be Jesus Christ' and ended with 'Waiting for your reply, now and for ever, amen.' I ranked high in the [NCOs] school, because I was able. I ranked second out of 85 in the knowledge of Poland course, the first place was taken by a Mastalerz from Warsaw. I was promoted to corporal. I was doing well in the army, I can't say I was favored but they treated me fair, no complaints.

In the Polish army before the war every unit had a few Germans, some Jews, a couple of Belarussians and Ukrainians. [Poland between the world wars was a country with ethnic and national minorities accounting for 1/3 of the population] The Ukrainians - we called them Ruthenians - were very good soldiers, first of all very physically fit, and the best riders. At a Saturday or Sunday muster the officers would call, 'Of Jewish persuasion, step forward, of Lutheran persuasion, step forward, of Orthodox persuasion, step forward!' and if you wanted to pray, you went your way.

My friend in the army was Eliezer Geller [1918-1943, a Gordonia (a Zionist organization) activist, soldier of the Warsaw ZOB (see below), he fought in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising and later went into hiding; he was probably killed in Auschwitz]. He came from Opoczno in the Mazovia region. He was my age. We often times went to the synagogue together, spoke with each other.

He was a very intelligent boy, very handsome, a blond. He was a left-wing Zionist, like me. I don't know what his profession was, but I think he'd finish a gymnasium, completed more than seven years of school. They didn't take him to the non-commissioned officer school, though, I don't know why, maybe he just didn't want to go. He was in the second squadron and I was in the forth, so I never saw him from September [1939] on. He was later in Warsaw, I don't know by what miracle he ended up there. I was certain all the time he died in the Warsaw Uprising 23.

Military service lasted two years and mine was to finish in 1939, so instead of going home I went to war. I fought in the September campaign 24. On 14th September I was wounded in a battle with the Germans at Olszewo [near Bransk and Lapy, in the Bialystok district]. There's still a memorial room there with a photo of me, among other things, and a description of the battle. I was messed up by a shrapnel, had a couple of wounds. I was unfit to fight on, so I was assigned to the regimental train [service column].

During the war

On 17th September the Russians marched in 25 and took us all prisoners. We were interned in a place called Negroloc, some 40 kilometers further east from Minsk, Belarus. They didn't treat us bad. We had to work and if we fulfilled the ordered quota, it was alright. The food was also acceptable. Every Saturday we had a bath, they called it 'bania.' We weren't given any clothes for change. In December [1939] there was a prisoners exchange, the Russians returned the Germans and the Poles. I was in that group and so got back to Gora Kalwaria. [Editor's note: An exchange of the prisoners-of-war - privates and NCOs. The Poles originating from the German-occupied parts of Poland were sent to the German authorities and later released; similarly with the ones from the Soviet-occupied regions.]

Everyone thought I'd been killed because there had been no news from me since September. And so it started, the occupation, the Gehenna [misery, hell]. I was told that when the Germans entered Gora Kalwaria the first Jew they saw was Pinio Rawski, leaving the synagogue at the very moment. And they shot him. I was also told about a Jewish boy called Mojsze Cybula - his father was the master Cybula I used to work for - who took a tiny crumble of bread when the Germans ordered the boys to work and they shot him for that, too. So I said to myself, 'My God, as a human being, not mentioning the nationality, I promise myself that if I survive the war, I'll put a symbol, so that the people will know what has happened here.' That was my obligation.

Right in the beginning the Germans confiscated all the front shops [with their display facing the street]. Jews were not allowed to trade at all. The ghetto in Gora Kalwaria was created in May 1940 26. Things were already very bad at the time. They evicted the Jews from the outskirts of Gora Kalwaria, the ghetto was right in the center of the town: the Pilsudskiego and Senatorska streets, and a short section of Pijarska Street. We all had to squeeze in somehow.

My family was not evicted, because it was already ghetto where we lived on Pilsudskiego Street. Leaving the ghetto was forbidden on the death penalty. Mom and I continued to sew, we had clients coming, some Poles, they commissioned clothes and we could make some money, just to get by. Plus we still had some supplies, we were always selling something. Yes, but what kind of life it was?! Vegetation, we couldn't afford anything, just the potatoes all the time, potato soup, there was nothing else.

When the relocation to the ghetto started [in May 1940], the head of the Jewish community in Gora, Josef Lubliner, came to my Polish neighbor Rytko, and left him the Torah and all the sacred books. Rytko, as the decent man that he was, kept them safe throughout the war. When I came back after the war, he gave the books to me as his neighbor. I later sent them to Israel, to my Uncle Mosze. I simply put them in a parcel, went to Professor Tyloch [Witold Tyloch, 1927-1990, Hebrew philologist and Bible scholar, a Warsaw University professor] to get a certificate they were not items of historical value, and sent them by post; legally, absolutely. I should think it was in the 1960s. The Torah is now in Israel, in Netanya.

In 1940 a group of ZOB 27 fighters came to Gora Kalwaria [Editor's note: ZOB did not yet exist at the time]: Lajbl Frydman, Horowic, and a woman. Frydman was a Bund member, Horowic was from Poalei Zion, and as for the woman, I don't know. They wanted to organize a combat team consisting of those who had served in the army to fight in self-defense. We only admitted the people we trusted. The 25 of us gathered at Aron Nusbaum's. We didn't have any weapons but the spirit was there, that we will defend ourselves. But nothing happened.

On 25th February 1941 they deported the Jews from Gora Kalwaria to the ghetto in Warsaw. My sister was already there, she hadn't come back to Gora Kalwaria with the outbreak of the war. Mom didn't even think of escaping, and me neither, I wanted to go to the ghetto with my family. The neighbors would come over and say, 'Listen, run away, go, you don't look like a Jew, maybe you'll make it.' I heard there were Jews in Magnuszew [town 25 km from Gora Kalwaria] - there was this sort of grapevine during the occupation - and that there are no deportations there. And so I basically ran away in the evening, after a talk with Mom. I don't know what happened to my family. I lost contact with them on that day. They were gone without a trace. Only my brother came to me later on. Lots of people left the ghetto then, everyone tried not to surrender.

It's twenty-something kilometers from Gora Kalwaria to Magnuszew, wintertime, so I stepped in a yard once in a while, knocked on the door, I asked, ' Hello sir, open, please, I'm a Jew, I ran away, please, help me.' If it was a good man - he'd let me in, if not - he'd say 'Go away, go away!' The Jews stayed in Magnuszew until May or June 1942. [The Magnuszew ghetto was liquidated in October 1942]. I didn't know anyone there. I basically worked as a tailor, people came in, gave me something to sew, I did it, and it was enough to get by.

Two months before the deportations they created a ghetto, put everyone in, and later moved them to Kozienice [town ca. 20 km from Gora Kalwaria, 80 km from Warsaw]. In Kozienice they selected young men and took them to Chmielew [village 5 km from Magnuszew] to dig irrigation ditches. There was a labor camp for Jews. I was one of those transported there.

We stayed there until December [1942], and later came the deportation and we went back to Magnuszew. I already had many friends there at the time, among those whom I tailored for. On our way back from Chmielew a Polish friend, Janek Cwyl, pulled me out of the column while the policemen weren't paying attention. He took me with him, he saved me.

In hiding

Somehow I managed to get through to Gora Kalwaria. I went to my neighbor, Mrs. Wasilewska. She immediately started to plan what to do. We went to Osieck [town 15 km of Gora Kalwaria] together, to a parish priest, Kuropek was his name I think. He issued a birth certificate for me. Later I got myself a kenkarta 28, in the name Feliks Zoladek. You had to do it with the help of friends and friends of friends. Because the priest gave me the certificate, but not the kenkarta, naturally. A friend took the certificate, went to one of those doing funny business [people who fabricated false IDs], and had them make me a kenkarta, that's how it was done. It wasn't legal.

I lived in the country, staying with different farmers and tailoring for them. One told some other he knew a tailor, and so I kept going from one person to another. Some of them knew I was a Jew, they figured it out, but well, I did survive. I stayed in one village, returned to another, kept in hiding for some time, had to run away on another occasion, one was always looking for a safe house.

I've been exceptionally lucky. They told me: 'Heniek, you don't look like a Jew at all.' I also spoke correct Polish, more or less, I mean I had the right accent, because as for the grammar a peasant wouldn't notice. I could quite safely assume I wouldn't be recognized by anyone. Plus I was a soldier, I was brave. That's why I took risks, I probably wouldn't otherwise, just like many others. You can't imagine, you could be killed any time, and not just you, but also the person harboring you. [Editor's note: On 15th October 1941 the death penalty for hiding a Jew was introduced in the General Government.]

I saw my brother [Dawid] in 1943, I don't remember if it was January or December. He came to see me in that village, Ostrowie [3 km from Magnuszew], he knew I stayed there with a farmer. I spoke with him but couldn't do anything, I couldn't! The farmer came to wake him up at 5am and told him he had to run. And so he did. He was hiding, too, he went from one farm to another, they gave him some work to do, he made horse-collars. Somewhere near Machcin some farmers gave him away, they brought him to the Germans. And the Germans killed him in the cemetery in Gora Kalwaria.

My longest single stay was in the village Podwierzbie near Zelechow [Podlez community, Garwolin district] with a Mrs. Pokorska. She was an acquaintance or a cousin of Mrs. Wasilewska [Mr. Prajs' neighbor]. Many decent people lived there generally, the Pyz family for example, the Polak family, the Marciniaks. Even the head of the village protected me. And as for the villagers, some did and some did not believe that I was a Pole. Not once did they later tell me, after the end of the war: 'It made us think, you lived here, it's a poor house, and nobody came to see you, you didn't leave for Christmas; we eyed you, a nice looking boy.' They didn't know what to think.

I went to the dances once, but later decided not to go anymore, because I was afraid. I went to the church once, too, but was afraid someone would recognize me as well. But nobody gave me away, simply Godsend. I went to that church after the war and ordered a thanksgiving mess for all the villagers.

I'm not surprised people didn't want to hide Jews. Everyone was afraid, who would risk his family's lives? You can accuse the ones who kept a Jew, exploited him financially, and later gave him away or killed him. They're murderers. But you absolutely can't blame an average Pole, I don't know if anyone would be more decent, if any Jew would be more decent.

Some Germans came to Mrs. Pokorska one day. I spoke with a Gestapo man face to face. He asked me, 'Weser das Mantel ist?' [incorrect German: 'whose coat is it?'], and I answered, 'It's not mine,' and he went, 'Du verstehst Deutsch?' [German: 'you understand German?'] It was getting bad, so I changed the subject and said, 'Sir, just take a look, everything's falling apart here, the roof, perhaps you could write a paper to the Kreishauptmann [German: district administrator]...'

That shocked the Gestapo man, he came from Silesia, he understood Polish. He saw my face didn't belong there. And she [Mrs. Pokorska] said I was her son, he asked her like a dozen times, and me as well, if I was her son. I said 'mom,' and she said 'son,' and again, 'mom, son.' I had a birth certificate in her son's name, Stanislaw Pokorski, so I said, 'I got the certificate, but I don't have the money to go to Garwolin and have me an ID made.' He didn't even want to take a look at the ID. And so I made it somehow.

He could have just said: 'Take off your pants,' and what, the whole family would have been doomed, all the children, the mother, everyone. She was very kind. But what cunning one's got to have, and what nerve, to stay calm and not to panic. These are terrible things, these are not the things to talk about, because a dog or a cat were worth more than a human being, just because the latter was of Jewish descent.

I had to hide once, and from whom, from ours [Poles]. The frontline was already near, it had almost reached the Wisla river. NSZ 29 or WiN 30, I don't even know, sentenced me to death. I had met them by chance, as a tailor. I'd sewn for them, they'd got to like me, we'd spent all the time together. I used to refashion what they'd stolen somewhere. One of them didn't agree with the sentence, hadn't said a word to them, but later told me: 'Heniek, be careful, hide, mister, 'cause it's so and so.' So NSZ's history has a not-so-exquisite [sic] chapter - their attitude towards the Jewish nation. When the Red Army took over the area, they [the NSZ soldiers] killed two or three Jews. They all came to me later and apologized, a couple of times. So I don't really want to get back to the subject, I've forgiven them and that's it.

After the war

That village, Podwierzbie, was on the right bank of the river, so they liberated it six months earlier than the left bank. It was in the summer, in July. [Editor's note: In the summer of 1944 the Red Army stopped on the east bank of the Wisla river. At that time the Warsaw Uprising was taking place, and its commanders counted on Soviet support. The uprising ended on 2nd October with Polish defeat. The Soviet army resumed its offensive only in January 1945.]

I took a walk and was standing on a levee as I saw the first 'razviedka' [Russian: reconnaissance patrol] of the Red Army. I was overwhelmed. They asked me, 'Who are you?', and I got scared, but soon enough answered, since I spoke Russian a bit, because I'd been interned in the Soviet Union in 1939: 'Ya Yevrey, ya Yevrey, zdes spratalsya, Yevrey' [Russian: 'I'm a Jew, I've been hiding here.']. And the one in charge was of Jewish descent. He immediately came over to me, overjoyed, and started to talk to me in Yiddish. He said, 'Listen, you'll go to the martial commandant and he'll take care of you.' And so I did, and they took me to work for them.

I was a hired hand, not in the army, but on their boarding. They reached Wisla in the summer and stopped, the offensive didn't start before January. I tailored for them, and later had no obligations, so I stayed in the village, another six months or so, as a free man at last. Everyone in the village knew about me, and they'd say, 'Well, Heniek, you've made it.' And the girls were crazy about me!

I fell in love with a girl there, but I'd already had an obligation. The story is characteristic and even a bit funny. During the war Mrs. Wasilewska told me, 'Heniek, listen, I'll help you out, but remember, when the war's over, you'll marry one of my daughters.' I said, 'Mrs. Wasilewska, if I only make it through the war, why not, I like them, they're all pretty girls after all.' So I came back to Gora Kalwaria and indeed married the youngest one before long.

I'm proud I was the first one to commemorate the fallen. I took out the wicket from the synagogue fence and put it in the Jewish cemetery. It still has the bullet marks made when the Germans shot Pinio Rawski. I hired a guy I knew named Cieplak to put a fence around the cemetery. There were four or five mazevot left. The Germans and the Poles took the rest. [The mazevot from the Jewish cemetery in Gora Kalwaria were used by the Germans as road pavement. Some of the tombstones were stolen by the Poles.]

It was a total mess. I started to put things in order at the cemetery. People reported some tombstones to me, so I collected them, transported to the cemetery and put them upright. These are pre-war mazevot, but they're not standing on their previous spots. Many of these people I knew personally, could be 80 per cent: Szternfeld, Rozenblum, Skrzypek, Mesing, I just didn't recall their burial places exactly, I hadn't attended every funeral.

The tzaddiks' tomb is real. Two of them are buried there, the founder of the dynasty, Chidusz ha-Rem, or Arie Lejb, and his grandson Sfas Emes [Chidushei ha-Rim, or Yitzchak Meir Alter, 1785-1866, the founder of the Ger dynasty; Sfas Emes, or Yehudah Arieh Leib Alter, 1847-1905, Yitzchak Meir's grandson, 3rd Rebbe of the dynasty]. The ohel was demolished during the war, but they didn't get inside, so it's the actual burial place. The new ohel was put up a few years ago by the Hasidim from Israel or America, from the Gora Kalwaria [Ger] communities. They visit the tzaddik's tomb very often.

Only one member of my family survived the war, Uncle Mosze. My calculations show I've lost 36 members of my immediate family, meaning the aunts and their children. Uncle Mosze miraculously survived somewhere in the Sandomierz region. He stayed with a farmer just like me, or so they say. I never asked him. His wife was killed. After the war he remarried in Lodz. He settled with his second wife in Gora Kalwaria. In 1950 they moved to Israel together. They had a son, Dawid. Uncle Mosze became a farmer in Israel, he had some land, an orchard, he kept geese. He died in May 1972.

After the war I lived in a state owned house on the corner of Dominikanska and Polna streets. It had been a German property and the owners were gone. I received an apartment there from the municipality. When I got married, I lived there with my wife. It wasn't until 1960 that I built my own house.

We got married in 1949. My wife was called Czeslawa Maria Wasilewska. She was eight years younger than me. We were an exemplary couple, we lived together for 41 years. She was Catholic and it didn't bother me one bit. We only have one daughter, Malgonia [from Malgorzata], my wife couldn't have any more children. I never kept it secret I was a Jew, but she didn't see that Jewishness in the house. We celebrated the Catholic holidays.

My wife's parents were called Jan and Helena. My father-in-law served in the tsarist army for five years. My wife had four siblings. They lived in Gora Kalwaria. They were farmers, had some land nearby.

Back before the marriage I changed my name to Henryk at the district administration in Grojec. Why shouldn't I have a Polish first name while I'm a Pole, well yes, of Jewish descent, but still a Pole. I never felt, however, the urge to erase my nationality. It's not a shame, and it's not a distinction either, that's who I was born, that's who I am, that's who I will be.

You mustn't forget your nationality, it's no shame. Every human being has a right to live, and it doesn't make any difference if someone is black, or a Gypsy [Roma], or a German. Even against the Germans I don't hold any grudge anymore. A German named Kulc harbored me for three months, could I have any grudge against him, could I refuse to shake hands with him? I would do anything to help that man, because he helped me knowing I was a Jew. There's no place for chauvinism, nationalism, or racism in my mind.

Immediately after the war I worked on my own, and later in a tailor's co- operative. I earned pathetically little there, 2,000 zlotys. After seven years of that I started my own tailoring business. Later I completed a technical high school and took up horticulture. My father used to sell orchards, so I knew something about it, my father-in-law and my brothers-in- law were farmers and gardeners, so I thought I'd learn, and so I did. I planted some trees, and they fruited wonderfully, I had beautiful fruits. I built a house. My wife worked in a shop at first and later in the community cooperative, selling coal, and finally as a deputy manager of a restaurant in Gora Kalwaria. She then retired. She died, my poor thing, in 1990.

We have three grandchildren, Mateusz, Ola [Aleksandra], and Jula. We've worked hard, we've made our way, I've been respected and still am. I had a good life. My house is cultured, open, if a Jew comes knocking, I'll let him in, if a priest, I'll let him in as well. Our parish priest is a great friend of mine, we speak like father and son, he respects me and vice versa.

I had the Pokorski family come to Gora Kalwaria and as my grandfather had a small patch of land in Coniew near Gora Kalwaria, I made it over to them. I arranged for them to receive the Righteous Medal 31 from Yad Vashem 32. They're dead now.

I think only about 30 Jews from Gora Kalwaria survived the war. They returned but fled soon. They moved mainly to Israel, but also to the Scandinavian countries: Sweden, Denmark, Holland. They welcomed Jews. The situation in Poland was not very good for the Jews at first, there was the Kielce pogrom 33 right in 1946, and later the events of 1968 34.

Why, it's horrible that a supposedly socialist country makes up some myths about a fifth column and so on [In his speech on 12th June 1968 Wladyslaw Gomulka, head of the Polish Communist party, accused the persons of Jewish descent of pro-Israeli bias and stigmatized that attitude as a betrayal of the state, using the phrase 'the fifth column'; the term 'fifth column,' coined during the Spanish Civil War, was also being used to refer to the German saboteurs during the Hitler's invasion of Czechoslovakia and Poland]. And yet everyone, Jews and non-Jews, was working, creating, helping to build. How could one order the people of Jewish descent to leave the country? Is that the way it should be? So one shouldn't blame those who left. I never had the intention to leave.

I do have a grudge against the ones I knew in the Gora Kalwaria municipality. They had me come over to the office and declare if I was objective, if I was a good Pole. I told them, 'What's that supposed to mean, what do I declare? You know me very well, I have fought in the Polish army, I've been wounded, I've paid with blood, what do you want from me?' I didn't even say good bye, turned my back on them and left. I think it was sheer stupidity, what is this 'good Pole,' I live here, I'm a citizen, they know me, if they have anything against me, there are penalties, judges. Are all the Poles good?

Recent years

As I've served in the army, after the war I was a member of the ZBoWiD, Union of Fighters for Freedom and Democracy 35. In the 1990s ZBoWiD was transformed into the Veterans Union and the Disabled Soldiers Union. I'm a member of the latter now, of the Piaseczno branch. I've recently received a medal, the Disabled Soldiers Union gold medal, for taking part in the Olszewo battle, where I was wounded.

I've been a member of the TSKZ 36 for 50 years now I think, ever since its creation. I go to the seniors club in Warsaw once or twice a week when the weather is fine. Very rarely in the wintertime. I have my friends there: Kawka, Janowski, Wajnryb, Mrs. Szymanska, Mrs. Kaczmarska, all of them elder people, some are even older than me. We tell each other tall tales, what comes, our life stories, we talk of our youth and the later years.

I've been to Israel twice, in 1965 and 1990. Nothing special about the trip, I asked for a visa and got it, they refused the first time but later changed their mind. Jerusalem was still divided in 1965, so I couldn't get to Bethlehem, to the tomb [Rachel's tomb just outside Bethlehem], the Wailing Wall was also on the other side, but you could more or less see it. I don't know if a million Jews lived there at the time, maybe a million and a half, not more. The immigration increased after the 1967 war 37.

What's with the anti-Semitism in Poland, against whom, as the Jews are gone?! They make up their own Jews. Whenever I talk to such people, I say, 'Okay, well, come on, show me a Jewish shop here, show me people speaking the Jewish language, well, let's go, I want to see, if you say Jews rule the country, show me those Jewish rulers. You idiot, they call everyone who's objective a Jew.' I have a friend, and because we like each other a lot, they say he's a Jew.

It's like that: there are those anti-Semitic hooligans on the one hand, you know - oh, a Jew! and that's it, and on the other hand there are the prewar intellectuals, the Endeks, whole families, the Giertychs, Dmowski, it's a strong group, anti-Semitic since always and that's the bottom-line, no way to persuade them. You have to be liberal and objective, you have to think reasonably. That's how I raised my daughter, that's how she raises my grandchildren.

The center of Gora Kalwaria, the streets Dominikanska, Pijarska, were inhabited by Jews. Poles lived mostly on the outskirts. There was a whole block of tzaddik houses on Pijarska Street. Nowadays there's a shop of the community cooperative in the tzaddik's house. There's also the Alter Synagogue. The Jews don't own it officially, but you can get inside. It stands empty. It's both Jewish and non-Jewish, half Jewish and half non- Jewish. The Hasidim 38 coming from Israel visit the cemetery, the synagogue, and the tzaddik's house.

A man called Karpman and I have the keys to the cemetery. If there's anything to be done in the cemetery, we hire a person and it's fixed. The fence was funded by the Nissenbaum Foundation. Excursion groups come here, plenty of them, to visit their grandparents, great-grandparents, because many Israelis have Polish origins. They often come over to see me, ask me to give them some information, and I speak with them with pleasure. But I don't take care about them that much anymore, I don't have the strength. It's great anyway, that my head still works, that I still have the memory.

My family background
My parents
Growing up
My school years
The Jewish history in Tarnow
During the war
My escape from the ghetto
From Plaszow to Auschwitz
Bergen-Belsen
After the liberation
Married life
My daughter Barbara
Post-war events
Glossary

1 Gora Kalwaria

Located near Warsaw, and known in Yiddish as Ger, Gora Kalwaria was the seat of the well-known dynasty of the tzaddiks. The adherents of the tzaddik of Ger were one of the most numerous and influential Hasidic groups in the Polish lands. The dynasty was founded by Meir Rotemberg Alter (1789-1866). The tzaddiks of Ger on the one hand stressed the importance of religious studies and promoted Orthodox religiosity. On the other hand they were active in the political sphere. Today tzaddiks from Ger live in Israel and the US.

2 Poalei Zion (the Jewish Social-Democratic Workers' Party Workers of Zion)

In Yiddish 'Yidishe Socialistish-Demokratishe Arbeiter Partei Poale Syon.' A political party formed in 1905 in the Kingdom of Poland, and operating throughout the Polish state from 1918. The party's main aim was to create an independent socialist Jewish state in Palestine. In the short term, Poalei Zion postulated cultural and national autonomy for the Jews in Poland, and improved labor and living conditions of Jewish hired laborers. In 1920, during a conference in Vienna, the party split, forming the Right Poalei Zion (the Jewish Socialist Workers' Party Workers of Zion), which became part of the Socialist Workers' International and the World Zionist Organization, and the Left Poalei Zion (the Jewish Social-Democratic Workers' Party Workers of Zion), the radical minority, which sympathized with the Bolsheviks. The Left Poalei Zion placed more emphasis on socialist postulates. Key activists: I. Schiper (Right PZ), L. Holenderski, I. Lew (Left PZ); paper: Arbeiter Welt. Both fractions had their own youth organizations: Right PZ: Dror and Freiheit; Left PZ - Jugnt. Left PZ was weaker than Right PZ; only towards the end of the 1930s did it start to form coalitions with other socialist and Zionist parties. In 1937 Left PZ joined the World Zionist Organization. During WWII both fractions were active in underground politics and the resistance movement in the ghettos, in particular the youth organizations. After 1945 both parties joined the Central Jewish Committee in Poland. In 1947 they reunited to form the strongest legally active Jewish party in Poland (with 20,000 members). In 1950 Poalei Zion was dissolved by the communist authorities.

3 3rd May Constitution

Constitutional treaty from 1791, adopted during the four-year Sejm by the patriotic party as a result of a compromise with the royalist party. The constitution was an attempt to redress the internal relations in Poland after the first partition (1772). It created the basis of the structure of modern Poland as a constitutional monarchy. In the first article the constitution guaranteed freedom of conscience and religion, although Catholicism remained the ruling religion. Members of other religions were assured 'governmental care.' The constitution instituted the division of powers, restricted the privileges of the nobility, granted far-ranging rights to townspeople and assured governmental protection to peasants. Four years later, in 1795, Poland finally lost its independence and was fully divided up between its three powerful neighbors: Russia, Prussia and Austria.

4 Skif (Socjalistiszer Kinder Farband, Yid

: Socialist Children Union): A children organization of the Bund party. It was founded in the 1920s on the initiative of Cukunft (Bund's youth organization) activists. The organization aimed at educating the future party members. Children were looked after by parents committees. In the 1930s SKIF had a couple thousand members in more than 100 places in Poland. Dayrooms, trips, and summer camps were organized for the children. SKIF existed also in the Warsaw ghetto during the war. It was reactivated after the war, but was of marginal importance. SKIF was dissolved in 1949, together with most of the Jewish political and social organizations.

5 Bund

The short name of the General Jewish Union of Working People in Lithuania, Poland and Russia, Bund means Union in Yiddish. The Bund was a social democratic organization representing Jewish craftsmen from the Western areas of the Russian Empire. It was founded in Vilnius in 1897. In 1906 it joined the autonomous fraction of the Russian Social Democratic Working Party and took up a Menshevist position. After the Revolution of 1917 the organization split: one part was anti-Soviet power, while the other remained in the Bolsheviks' Russian Communist Party. In 1921 the Bund dissolved itself in the USSR, but continued to exist in other countries.

6 Bund leaders in prewar times

the most eminent Bund activists of that period were Wiktor Alter, Henryk Erlich, Jakub Pat, Szmul Zygielbojm, and Maurycy Orzech. They led the Bund's social organizations, published the party press, were members of the local self-government bodies. Wiktor Alter (1890-1943), member of the Socialist International executive committee, Warsaw councilor, trade unions and cooperative movement activist, journalist, editor of the magazine 'Mysl Socjalistyczna' ('Socialist Thought'). He was shot in a Soviet prison. Henryk Erlich (1882-1943), lawyer, Warsaw councilor, member of the Jewish Community Council, editor of the magazines 'Glos Bundu' ('The Bund Voice') and 'Folks Cajtung' ('People's Journal'), member of the Socialist International executive committee. Arrested by the Soviet authorities, he committed suicide in prison. Jakub Pat (1890-1966), contributor to 'Folks Tsaytung', TsIShO (Central Jewish School Organization) activist, author of language and literature handbooks for the Jewish schools, he also wrote reportages and short stories. From 1939 he was still an active Bund member while on emigration in the USA. Maurycy Orzech (1891-1943), publisher and co-founder of many newspapers and magazines ('Folks Tsaytung', 'Arbeter Shtime' ['The Workers' Voice'], 'Glos Bundu' among others), Warsaw councilor, member of the Jewish Community Council and the National Trade Unions Council. At the outbreak of the war he was in Lithuania, after being expelled on the Germans' demand he lived in Warsaw. He was active in the Jewish Social Self- Help and the Anti-Fascist Bloc. He died in 1943, probably during a failed attempt to escape to Romania. Szmul Zygielbojm (1895-1943), secretary- general of the Jewish Section of the Central Trade Unions Board, Warsaw and Lodz councilor, publisher of the 'Arbeter Fragen' ['Workers Affairs'] magazine. A member of the National Council of the Polish government-in- exile in London. He committed suicide on 13th May 1943 at the news of the fall of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, protesting against the Allied passiveness towards the Holocaust.

7 Haynt

Literally 'Today,' it was one of the most popular Yiddish dailies published in Poland. It came out in Warsaw from 1908-1939, and had a Zionist orientation addressing a mass of readers. In the 1930s it attained a print run of 45,000 copies.

8 Peretz, Isaac Leib (1852-1915)

Author and poet writing in Yiddish, one of the fathers and central figures of modern Yiddish literature, researcher of Jewish folklore. Born in Zamosc, he had both a religious and a secular education (he took courses in bookkeeping and studied law in Warsaw). Initially he wrote in Polish and Hebrew. His debut [in Yiddish] is considered to be the poem Monish, (1888, Di yidishe Folksbibliotek). From 1890 he lived in Warsaw. Peretz was an advocate of Yiddishism, and attended a conference on the subject of the Yiddish language in Jewish culture held in Czernowitz (1908). His most widely read works are his novellas, which he wrote at first in the positivist style and later in the modernist vein. In his work he often used folk motifs from the culture of Eastern European Jews (Khasidish, 1908). His best known works include Hurban beit tzaddik (The Ruin of the Tzaddik's House, 1903), Di Goldene Keyt (The Golden Chain, 1906). During World War I he was involved in bringing help to the victims of war. He died of a heart attack.

9 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.

10 An-ski, Szymon (pen name of Szlojme Zajnwel Rapaport) (1863-1920)

Writer, ethnographer, socialist activist. Born in a village near Vitebsk. In his youth he was an advocate of haskalah, but later joined the radical movement Narodnaya Vola. Under threat of arrest he left Russia in 1892 but returned there in 1905. From 1911-14 he led an ethnographic expedition researching the folklore of the Jews of Podolye and Volhynia. During the war he organized committees bringing aid to Jewish victims of the conflict and pogroms. In 1918 he became involved in organizing cultural life in Vilnius, as a co-founder of the Union of Jewish Writers and Journalists and the Jewish Ethnographic Society. Two years before his death he moved to Warsaw. He is the author of the Bund party's anthem, 'Di shvue' (Yid. oath). The participation of the Bund in the Revolution of 1905 influenced An-ski's decision to write in Yiddish. In his later work he used elements of Jewish legends collected during his ethnographic expedition and his experiences from WWI. His most famous work is The Dybbuk (which to this day remains one of the most popular Yiddish works for the stage). An-ski's entire literary and scientific oeuvre was published in Warsaw in 1920-25 as a 15-volume edition.

11 Asch, Sholem (1880-1957)

Polish born American novelist and dramatist, who wrote in Yiddish, Hebrew, English and German. He was born in Kutno, into an Orthodox family and received a traditional religious education; in other fields he was self-taught. In 1914 he immigrated to the USA. Towards the end of his life he lived in Israel. He died in London. His literary debut came in 1900 with his story 'Moyshele.' His best known plays include 'Got fun Nekomeh' (The God of Vengeance, 1906), 'Kiddush ha-Shem' (1919), and the comedies 'Yihus' (Origin, 1909), and 'Motke the Thief' (1916). He also wrote a trilogy reflecting his opinion that Christianity should be regarded as the logical continuation of Judaism: 'Der Man fun Netseres' (1943; The Nazarene), The Apostle (1943), and Mary (1949).

12 Bergelson, Dovid (1884-1952)

Yiddish writer, arrested and shot dead together with several other Yiddish writers, rehabilitated posthumously.

13 Der Moment

Daily newspaper published in Warsaw from 1910-39 by Yidishe Folkspartei in Poyln. It was one of the most widely read Jewish daily papers in Poland, published in Yiddish with a circulation of 100,000 copies.

14 Central Union of the Jewish Craftsmen of the Republic of Poland

a social organization founded in 1921. One of the co-founders and its president until 1930 was Adam Czerniakow, the head of the Warsaw Judenrat during the war. The Union's goals were: defending its members' interests in the Crafts Chambers, Apprentice Departments, and the guilds, organizing cooperative movement and loan funds, legal counseling. The Union had its headquarters in Warsaw, 493 local branches, and 94,000 members. It published 'Handwerker un Industri - Tsaytung' from 1925 to 1927 and 'Handwerker Tsaytung' from 1927 to 1938. The Union was part of the National Minorities Bloc in the 1928 elections.

15 Hitler's rise to power

In the German parliamentary elections in January 1933, the National Socialist German Workers' Party (NSDAP) won one- third of the votes. On 30th January 1933 the German president swore in Adolf Hitler, the party's leader, as chancellor. On 27th February 1933 the building of the Reichstag (the parliament) in Berlin was burned down. The government laid the blame with the Bulgarian communists, and a show trial was staged. This served as the pretext for ushering in a state of emergency and holding a re-election. It was won by the NSDAP, which gained 44% of the votes, and following the cancellation of the communists' votes it commanded over half of the mandates. The new Reichstag passed an extraordinary resolution granting the government special legislative powers and waiving the constitution for 4 years. This enabled the implementation of a series of moves that laid the foundations of the totalitarian state: all parties other than the NSDAP were dissolved, key state offices were filled by party luminaries, and the political police and the apparatus of terror swiftly developed.

16 Hahalutz

Hebrew for pioneer, it stands for a Zionist organization that prepared young people for emigration to Palestine. It was founded at the beginning of the 20th century in Russia and began operating in Poland in 1905, later also spread to the USA and other countries. Between the two wars its aim was to unite all the Zionist youth organizations. Members of Hahalutz were sent on hakhshara, where they received vocational training. Emphasis was placed chiefly on volunteer work, the ability to live and work in harsh conditions, and military training. The organization had its own agricultural farms in Poland. On completing hakhshara young people received British certificates entitling them to immigrate to Palestine. Around 26,000 young people left Poland under this scheme in 1925-26. In 1939 Hahalutz had some 100,000 members throughout Europe. In World War II it operated as a conspiratorial organization. It was very active in culture and education after the war. The Polish arm was disbanded in 1949.

17 : Zionist Organization in Poland (also General Zionists, General Zionist Organization)

The strongest Zionist federation in prewar Poland, connected with the World Zionist Organization. Its primary goal was the creation of a Jewish state in Palestine, by means of waking and strengthening the national identity of the Jews, promoting the emigration to Palestine, and colonizing it. The organization also fought for national and cultural autonomy of the Polish Jews, i.e. the creation of a Jewish self-government and introducing Hebrew education. The Kingdom of Poland Autonomous Bureau of the General Zionists existed since 1906. At first it was headed by Joszua Heszel, followed by Meir Klumel and, since 1920, Icchak Grünbaum. The General Zionists took part in all the local and national elections. In 1928 the party split into factions: Et Liwnot, Al ha- Miszmar, and the Revisionists. The groups grew more and more hostile towards each other. The General Zionists influenced most of the Jewish mass organizations, particularly the economic and the social and cultural ones. After World War II the General Zionists tradition was referred to by the Polish Jewish party Ichud. It was dissolved in January 1950.

18 Grinbaum, Icchak (1879-1970)

Barrister, politician and Zionist activist. Born in Warsaw, he studied medicine and law. In 1905 he attended the 7th Zionist Congress as a delegate. Co-founder of Tarbut. He was the leader of a radical faction of the Zionist Organization in Poland, and deputy to the Polish Sejm (Parliament) from 1919-1932. In 1933 he immigrated to Palestine. Grinbaum was a member of the governing bodies of the Jewish Agency (until 1951). During World War II he founded the Committee to Save the Polish Jews, and acting through diplomatic channels strove to have immigration restrictions on refugees in allied countries lifted. In 1948-49 he was a minister in Israel's Provisional Government.

19 Anti-Semitism in Poland in the 1930s

From 1935-39 the activities of Polish anti-Semitic propaganda intensified. The Sejm introduced barriers to ritual slaughter, restrictions of Jews' access to education and certain professions. Nationalistic factions postulated the removal of Jews from political, social and cultural life, and agitated for economic boycotts to persuade all the country's Jews to emigrate. Nationalist activists took up posts outside Jewish shops and stalls, attempting to prevent Poles from patronizing them. Such campaigns were often combined with damage and looting of shops and beatings, sometimes with fatal consequences. From June 1935 until 1937 there were over a dozen pogroms, the most publicized of which was the pogrom in Przytyk in 1936. The Catholic Church also contributed to the rise of anti-Semitism.

20 ONR

A Polish nationalist organization with extreme anti-Semitic views. Founded in April 1934, its members were drawn from the Nationalist Democratic Party. It supported fascism, its program advocated the full assimilation of Slavic minorities in Poland, and forced Jews to leave the country by curbing their civic rights and implementing an economic boycott that would prevent them from making a living. The ONR exploited calls for an economic boycott during the severe economic crisis of the 1930s to drum up support among the masses and develop opposition to Pilsudski's government. The ONR drew most of its support from young urban people and students. Following a series of anti-Semitic attacks, the ONR was dissolved by the government (July 1940), but the group continued its activities illegally with the support of extremist nationalist groups.

21 Endeks

Name formed from the initials of a right-wing party active in Poland during the inter-war period (ND - 'en-de'). Narodowa Demokracja [National Democracy] was founded by Roman Dmowski. Its members and supporters, known as 'Endeks,' often held anti-Semitic views.

22 Pilsudski, Jozef (1867-1935)

Polish activist in the independence cause, politician, statesman, marshal. With regard to the cause of Polish independence he represented the pro-Austrian current, which believed that the Polish state would be reconstructed with the assistance of Austria- Hungary. When Poland regained its independence in January 1919, he was elected Head of State by the Legislative Sejm. In March 1920 he was nominated marshal, and until December 1922 he held the positions of Head of State and Commander-in-Chief of the Polish Army. After the murder of the president, Gabriel Narutowicz, he resigned from all his posts and withdrew from politics. He returned in 1926 in a political coup. He refused the presidency offered to him, and in the new government held the posts of war minister and general inspector of the armed forces. He was prime minister twice, from 1926-1928 and in 1930. He worked to create a system of national security by concluding bilateral non-aggression pacts with the USSR (1932) and Germany (1934). He sought opportunities to conclude firm alliances with France and Britain. In 1932, owing to his deteriorating health, Pilsudski resigned from his functions. He was buried in the Crypt of Honor in the Wawel Cathedral of the Royal Castle in Cracow.

23 Warsaw Uprising 1944

The term refers to the Polish uprising between 1st August and 2nd October 1944, an armed uprising orchestrated by the underground Home Army and supported by the civilian population of Warsaw. It was justified by political motives: the calculation that if the domestic arm of the Polish government in exile took possession of the city, the USSR would be forced to recognize Polish sovereignty. The Allies rebuffed requests for support for the campaign. The Polish underground state failed to achieve its aim. Losses were vast: around 20,000 insurrectionists and 200,000 civilians were killed and 70% of the city destroyed.

24 September Campaign 1939

Armed struggle in defense of Poland's independence from 1st September to 6th October 1939 against German and, from 17th September, also Soviet aggression; the start of World War II. The German plan of aggression ('Fall Weiss') assumed all-out, lightning warfare (Blitzkrieg). The Polish plan of defense planned engagement of battle in the border region (a length of some 1,600 km), and then organization of resistance further inside the country along subsequent lines of defense (chiefly along the Narew, Vistula and San) until an allied (French and British) offensive on the western front. Poland's armed forces, commanded by the Supreme Commander, Marshal Edward Rydz-Smigly, numbered some 1 m soldiers. Poland defended itself in isolation; on 3rd September Britain and France declared war on Germany, yet did not undertake offensive action on a larger scale. Following a battle on the border the main Polish line of defense was broken, and the Polish forces retreated in battles on the Vistula and the San. On 8th September, the German army reached Warsaw, and on 12th September Lvov. From 14th-16th September the Germans closed their ring on the Bug. On 9th September Polish divisions commanded by General Tadeusz Kutrzeba went into battle with the Germans on the Bzura, but after initial successes were surrounded and largely smashed (by 22nd September), although some of the troops managed to get to Warsaw. Defense was continued by isolated centers of resistance, where the civilian population cooperated with the army in defense. On 17th September Soviet forces numbering more than 800,000 men crossed Poland's eastern border, broke through the defense of the Polish forces and advanced nearly as far as the Narew-Bug-Vistula- San line. In the night of 17th-18th September the president of Poland, the government and the Supreme Commander crossed the Polish-Romanian border and were interned. Lvov capitulated on 22nd September (surrendered to Soviet units), Warsaw on 28th September, Modlin on 29th September, and Hel on 2nd October.

25 Annexation of Eastern Poland

According to a secret clause in the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact defining Soviet and German territorial spheres of influence in Eastern Europe, the Soviet Union occupied Eastern Poland in September 1939. In early November the newly annexed lands were divided up between the Ukrainian and the Belarusian Soviet Republics.

26 Ghetto in Gora Kalwaria

It was created in February 1940. About 3,500 Jews were kept in it, inhabitants of Gora Kalwaria, Gostynin, and the surrounding villages, as well as expellees from Lodz, Aleksandrow, Pabianice, Sierpc, Wloclawek, and Kalisz. On 25th February 1941 the Jews from the Gora Kalwaria ghetto were deported to the Warsaw ghetto. They shared the same fate, were murdered in 1942 and 1943 in Treblinka death camp.

27 ZOB (Jewish Fighting Organization)

An armed organization formed in the Warsaw ghetto; it took on its final form (uniting Zionist, He-Halutz and Bund youth organizations) in October 1942. ZOB also functioned in other towns and cities in occupied Poland. It offered military training, issued appeals, procured arms for its soldiers, planned the defense of the Warsaw ghetto, and ultimately led the fighting in the ghetto on two occasions, the uprisings in January and April 1943.

28 Kenkarta

(German: Kennkarte - ID card) confirmed the identity and place of residence of its holder. It bore a photograph, a thumbprint, and the address and signature of its holder. It was the only document of its type issued to Poles during the Nazi occupation.

29 National Armed Forces (NSZ)

A conspiratorial military organization founded in Poland in 1942. The main goal of the NSZ was to fight for the independence of Poland and new western borders along the Oder-Neisse line. The NSZ's program stressed nationalism, rejected fascism and communism, and propounded the creation of a Catholic Polish State. The NSZ program was strongly anti-Semitic. In October 1943 the NSZ had some 72,500 members. The NSZ was preparing for an armed uprising, assuming that the Red Army would occupy all the Polish lands. It provided support for military intelligence, conducted supply campaigns, freed prisoners, and engaged in armed combat with divisions of the People's Army and Soviet partisans. NSZ divisions (approx. 2,000 soldiers) took part in the Warsaw Uprising. In November 1944 a part of the NSZ was transformed into the National Military Union (NZW), which was active underground in late 1945/early 1946 (scores of divisions numbering 2,000-4,000 soldiers), fighting the NKVD, UB (Security Bureau) task forces, and divisions of the UPA. In 1947 most of its cells were smashed, although some groups remained underground until the mid-1950s.

30 'Wolnosc i Niezawislosc' ('Freedom and Independence')

A conspiratorial organization founded in September 1945 by Colonel Jan Rzepecki after the dissolving of the Armed Forces Delegate's Office at Home (command of the underground army). WiN was to be a social and political movement defending the rights of the Polish citizens and Poland's independence. It demanded that free national elections be called and the freedom of press and of association be restituted. In 1946 WiN subjugated to the Polish government-in-exile in London and declared fighting the communist terror machine its primary goal. WiN operated throughout Poland. At the end of 1945 it had 30,000 members. The communist authorities were fighting it fiercely, arrestments were gradually diminishing the organization. WiN conducted various activities: intelligence and counter- intelligence (collecting information on the army, the UB [Security Office, the secret police], and so on), information and propaganda, self-defense (including liberating political prisoners), guerrilla warfare. Captured WiN members were sentenced in political show trials. Since 1948 WiN was totally infiltrated by the UB and eventually dissolved in 1952.

31 Righteous Among the Nations

A medal and honorary title awarded to people who during the Holocaust selflessly and for humanitarian reasons helped Jews. It was instituted in 1953. Awarded by a special commission headed by a justice of the Israeli Supreme Court, which works in the Yad Vashem National Remembrance Institute in Jerusalem. During the ceremony the persons recognized receive a diploma and a medal with the inscription "Whoever saves one life, saves the entire world" and plant a tree in the Avenue of the Righteous on the Remembrance Hill in Jerusalem, which is marked with plaques bearing their names. Since 1985 the Righteous receive honorary citizenship of Israel. So far over 20,000 people have been distinguished with the title, including almost 6,000 Poles.

32 Yad Vashem

This museum, founded in 1953 in Jerusalem, honors both Holocaust martyrs and 'the Righteous Among the Nations', non-Jewish rescuers who have been recognized for their 'compassion, courage and morality'.

33 Kielce Pogrom

On 4th July 1946 the alleged kidnapping of a Polish boy led to a pogrom in which 42 people were killed and over 40 wounded. The pogrom also prompted other anti-Jewish incidents in Kielce region. These events caused mass emigrations of Jews to Israel and other countries.

34 Anti-Zionist campaign in Poland

From 1962-1967 a campaign got underway to sack Jews employed in the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the army and the central administration. The background to this anti-Semitic campaign was the involvement of the Socialist Bloc countries on the Arab side in the Middle East conflict, in connection with which Moscow ordered purges in state institutions. On 19th June 1967 at a trade union congress the then First Secretary of the Polish United Workers' Party [PZPR], Wladyslaw Gomulka, accused the Jews of a lack of loyalty to the state and of publicly demonstrating their enthusiasm for Israel's victory in the Six- Day-War. This address marked the start of purges among journalists and creative professions. Poland also severed diplomatic relations with Israel. On 8th March 1968 there was a protest at Warsaw University. The Ministry of Internal Affairs responded by launching a press campaign and organizing mass demonstrations in factories and workplaces during which 'Zionists' and 'trouble-makers' were indicted and anti-Semitic and anti-intelligentsia slogans shouted. After the events of March, purges were also staged in all state institutions, from factories to universities, on criteria of nationality and race. 'Family liability' was also introduced (e.g. with respect to people whose spouses were Jewish). Jews were forced to emigrate. From 1968-1971 15,000-30,000 people left Poland. They were stripped of their citizenship and right of return.

35 Union of Fighters for Freedom and Democracy (ZBWD, Zwiazek Bojownikow o Wolnosc i Demokracje)

Combatant organization founded in 1949 as the result of the forced union of 11 combatant organizations functioning since 1945. Until 1989 it remained politically and organizationally subordinate to the PZPR. In 1990 ZBoWiD was reborn as the Union of Combatants of the Polish Republic and Former Political Prisoners (Zwiazek Kombatantow RP i Bylych Wiezniow Politycznych). ZBoWiD brought together some Polish World War II veterans, prisoners from Nazi camps, soldiers of the Polish Armed Forces (WP, Wojsko Polskie), and officers of the Security Office (UB, Urzad Bezpieczenstwa) and Civil Militia (MO, Milicja Obywatelska), as well as widows and orphans of others killed in action or murdered. For political reasons, many combatants were not accepted into ZBoWiD, including some AK (Home Army) soldiers (especially before 1956). It had several hundred thousand members (1970 approx. 330,000; 1986 almost 800,000).

36 Social and Cultural Society of Polish Jews (TSKZ)

Founded in 1950 when the Central Committee of Polish Jews merged with the Jewish Society of Culture. From 1950-1991 it was the sole body representing Jews in Poland. Its statutory aim was to develop, preserve and propagate Jewish culture. During the socialist period this aim was subordinated to communist ideology. Post-1989 most young activists gravitated towards other Jewish organizations. However, the SCSPJ continues to organize a range of cultural events and has its own magazine - The Jewish Word. It is primarily an organization of older people, who, however, have been involved with it for years.

37 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.

38 Hasid

Follower of the Hasidic movement, a Jewish mystic movement founded in the 18th century that reacted against Talmudic learning and maintained that God's presence was in all of one's surroundings and that one should serve God in one's every deed and word. The movement provided spiritual hope and uplifted the common people. There were large branches of Hasidic movements and schools throughout Eastern Europe before World War II, each following the teachings of famous scholars and thinkers. Most had their own customs, rituals and life styles. Today there are substantial Hasidic communities in New York, London, Israel and Antwerp.

Gizela Fudem

Gizela Fudem with her husband Leon Fudem

Gizela Fudem
Wroclaw
Poland
Interviewer: Jakub Rajchman
Date of interview: December 2004

Mrs. Gizela Fudem has been blessed with incredible memory. During our three meetings in her house in Wroclaw she not only described her closer and more distant family with great details, but she was also able to convey the atmosphere of pre-war Jewish Tarnow with its colorfulness and variety. Mrs. Fudem remembers in details holiday customs of her childhood home. Since 1947 she's been a wife to Mr. Leon Fudem, who is five years older than she is. Mr. Fudem is Jewish as well. That's a fairly uncommon social situation in Poland in 2005. Today, both of them old and ill, they often talk about their only daughter who lives in the USA. Mrs. Fudem has told her Holocaust story several times to newspapers and to Polish and international organizations. In our conversation she goes back to her childhood which is deeply emotional to her. A few weeks after the interview Mrs. Fudem's husband, Mr. Leon Fudem, passed away.

My name is Gizela Fudem, my maiden name is Grunberg. I was born on 24th November 1924 in Tarnow. I lived in Tarnow before the war and for the first two years of the war. When it comes to my siblings, I had a brother - Mojzesz - four years younger than me, and a sister - Tauba - older than me, also by four years. I come from a religious family, even very religious, my father was a pious Jew with a beard, and never tolerated anything that wasn't kosher.

My father's family came from the Kielce region, from the town of Stopnica [50 km from Tarnow]. I remember both Grandpa and Grandma. Grandma's name was Bajla or Bela Rywka, and Grandpa was Szmul. And my father was Josef, Josef Nechemiasz. Grandpa was killed during World War II, and Grandma died during that war, because she was sick. My grandparents were religious, Grandma used to wear a wig, and Grandpa - a hat that Jews used to wear in the Russian partition 1, in the shape of a little black saucepan with a visor.

Stopnica was a small town, and I used to go there with Dad to visit the grandparents. Grandpa was well off. He had a store with some iron articles, like nails, scythes, some tools, chains, whatever you'd buy in a small town, which farmers from the area would come to. My grandparents had their own small house, they lived right behind that store, there was even an entrance from the house to the store, and there was a big yard neighboring with some concrete plant. I used to play there as a child, used to go inside concrete tunnels. I remember that.

My grandparents lived near the marketplace. And I even remember - once we went there during a Polish folk holiday, and there was the atmosphere of a bit of a peril, because farmers didn't like Jews, they would buy from them whatever they needed, but you never knew, we were afraid of some incidents. [Editor's note: anti-Semitic incidents often took place during national holidays.] So the shutters were closed in that store, and I remember we were listening to whether it was peaceful outside or not.

One of my cousins, Sala [nickname for Sara Lea], often came to the grandparents. She also lived near the marketplace, but on the opposite side. And she used to come there to help out, clean up at her grandma's, since she lived nearby, she used to help them. Her father, Uncle Lajbisz, older brother of my father's, was a small merchant, and there were also a few small children. Uncle had six children altogether, but because Aunt Chaja died early, some of those kids were of the second mother - Perel. And they were so-so off, not too rich, but they weren't that badly off either.

When it comes to my mother's family, I don't remember Grandma very well, but I remember Grandpa better. Grandma Debora came from Debice area near Tarnow. She died when I was four years old. She was about 46 then. Grandpa came from Dabrowa near Tarnow. His name was Chaim. Grandpa was two years older than Grandma. It was an arranged marriage, of course, they were both from traditional families. After the death of Grandma, who died at a young age, Grandpa Chaim remained in Tarnow. I remember, he had a long white beard and I think he used to wear a kapote. But you could talk to Grandpa in Polish, he was a bit more secular than that other Grandfather in Stopnica.

During the times of my early childhood, I remember, he had a wine bottling plant. He owned a house on one of the more beautiful streets in Tarnow, on the corner of Folwarczna and Goldhammera Streets. It was a big house, two- storey, I think. It was quite elegant, with additions, there was a fish market, and in the yard there was a carpenter's workshop, and near that a little house for the caretaker, and there was the wine bottling plant.

There's a story in our family that when I was young, when I was going to school, I used to drop by at Grandpa's and the workers there would let me drink some wine from a barrel with a rubber hose. Later I couldn't eat my dinner.

But later, I remember it well, I guess Grandpa wasn't doing so well, because he gave up on the bottle plant, and he had a kind of an inn or a tavern with a store. That store had an exit onto the street and an entrance to the apartment, because he lived on the first floor and took half of that floor. There were a few rooms there.

Grandpa had all sorts of ideas, he kept remodeling his house. To the left from the entrance there was Grandpa's apartment. And to the right there was a room rented out to the Jewish community. There was another room with a ping-pong table - I don't know who that belonged to. And on the second floor there were apartments. Grandpa was alone for many years, but he got married again just before the war. I don't remember that woman's name, I remember only she was from a small town, and she was about 50 years old, but she was still unmarried. I know that Mother didn't like her, and thought Grandpa should not be getting married again.

My parents

My Mother, Sara Lea Grunberg [nee Muschel], was the eldest of six children. She had two sisters and three brothers. These are their names in order: Bronia, Bala, Berisch [German spelling kept due to Austrian influences], Rafael, Mozes. The middle sister - Aunt Bronia - married a very religious Jew and she lived in Cracow.

The youngest sister, however, was a sort of a black sheep in the family. Her name was Bala. They used to call her Bajla in Jewish. She was a bit of a communist and Grandpa had all sorts of problems with her, because before each 1st May the police would come to arrest her. [Editor's note: 1st May - workers' holiday, illegal in interwar Poland, was a chance for socialist and communist demonstrations unaccepted by the government.] At least for that one day, so that she wouldn't demonstrate or whatever, and Grandpa had bring out the wine for all of them and ask them not to take her. And she, knowing about it, would go into hiding, so he had problems with her. But I don't know if Grandpa was as determined as my father, who didn't let us talk about Bala in his presence because of what she did later.

She was to get married, in an arranged marriage to a man whose last name was, as I remember, Hermeles, and she ran away on their wedding day, right after the ceremony. And she broke off this marriage, even though he was a very decent man, that one she married, but he completely didn't suit her. Because he was very religious and quiet, and she was a crazy girl, always on the move. And that communism of hers, that didn't suit him either. Grandpa forced her to get married, he though she'd settle down, but on the day of her wedding she sent the gifts back and ran away.

Then she moved out and lived somewhere in Warsaw, then somewhere in Sosnowiec, she became a nurse. All in all she was a bit of a wayward daughter, different from the rest of the family. They practically disowned her. And when she came by to our apartment in the first year of the war, she was careful to come when Dad wasn't there. I was always very impressed by her, because she had such an exciting life.

And later she married again, this time out of her own will and volition. And it so happened that I met her second husband during the war, in Auschwitz, through the fence in the adjoining camp. She was dead by then. That's how it was with them. When they were on the way to Auschwitz, and they knew they were going to Auschwitz, they decided to poison themselves on the train.

They had a son, Jurek, a few years old, six, maybe seven years old. And they couldn't decide whether to give him the poison or not, and when they finally gave it to him, it was already too late. And she, carrying him in her arms, most likely dead already, was sent to a gas chamber. And her husband was spared, but he was sick a lot, and died exactly one day before Auschwitz was liberated, he didn't survive the war.

But back then, in the camp, he found us - I was there with my sister Tauba - through the fence and helped us a lot. I most likely owe him my life. Because my sister and I, we were to be transported to a different camp - to Stutthof 2 - and none of those people survived. He got us out of that transport; I'll tell about that later. That uncle, by marriage, my aunt's husband.

And, as I mentioned before, there were three brothers of my mom's: Berisch, Rafael and Mozes. The oldest one - Berisch - also lived in the same area, near Grandpa's, but in his own separate house and he was very religious. He was selling fish, and he had that fish market in Grandpa's house. I remember, it so happened that when the war broke out 3 and he escaped to Russia, his wife, my Aunt Roza, stayed behind with six little children, and during the first few months of the war, she was trying to find some fish to sell, to make a living. And I was sent to help her, which I didn't like at all, because I was afraid to hold a live fish in my hands.

The other two sons used to help Grandpa with his business, and later they became independent and had their own plant, also a wine and vodka plant. They had clients all over Poland and they were traveling with samples as canvassers. They stayed near Grandpa until the end, until they escaped to Russia, when the war broke out. And Grandpa stayed here, in Tarnow.

My father's name was Josef Nechemiasz, he was born in Stopnica. He was very religious. He used to go and pray with other Hasidim 4 to one of the shtiblach. That tzaddik, he came from Kolaczyce [40 km from Tarnow]. They used to call him Koleszycer. Mom was even upset at those friends of Dad's, that when she met him he wasn't that superstitious, yes, he was very religious, traditional, and that was always most important, but there was nothing bordering on the absurd, that he didn't do. And later Dad, according to my Mom, started spending time with such a crowd that was just too holy, and they had this influence on him.

Mom was upset, because they indeed kept coming up with ridiculous things, and Dad would follow them. For example, on Saturdays, you were not supposed to comb your hair! I also didn't like them. One of them - I remember - used to come to our home. He had a long beard. He was such a horrible Hasid. He used to pinch my arm whenever he came over. And I really didn't like him because of that. Whenever he came by, I would run away.

Dad did various things in life. He didn't have a lot of spare time, he was always busy, because we weren't all that well off. When it didn't work out with the winery, then he had a kosher dairy with a partner. He had it in a basement of some house a couple blocks away. It was a dairy with a bit of wholesale and a bit of retail. He would deliver milk and butter to stores, but also sold them in retail. I was sent there from time to time, I remember. So that, whenever my dad went out to have lunch or had to go somewhere, somebody stayed at the store to sell that milk.

During summer he also sold skim milk, used to make paint and then paint apartments. I remember something like round barrels to make butter and cheese. I remember, there was a year when there was lots of that cheese. Because Dad had an agreement with manors in the area, in the radius of from approximately a dozen to several dozens of kilometers. And they brought milk from them, and the agreements usually said that they had to take all the milk whenever cows were on the fresh feed, even if there was too much milk. Because the agreement was for everything, everything that was delivered throughout the year. And I remember the time when there was too much cheese and there was no market for it. And they had to take that cheese out of the city and bury it in holes in the ground, since you couldn't just throw it out, it would go bad, so you couldn't really do anything with it.

And only in the last year before the war Dad signed an agreement with someone who made components for the production of calolite near Cracow. That was something like plastic nowadays. And it was made out of that milk, first processed in a special way. That milk after processing looked like cooked rice and that was delivered in barrels to Cracow. They wouldn't make any money on this, but it was still better than losing everything. And they used that calolite to make belt buckles, cabinet hardware, it was a bit transparent. So I remember that it was a rather poor business.

However, a year or two before the war Dad gave up on the dairy, as I mentioned earlier. He took a course in making dairy and cheese, it had a weird name, he had to pass a test. And he opened a big dairy on Folwarczna Street, with a few other milkmen, such that used to deliver milk to homes, in cans, with a horse and a horse carriage and they delivered that milk to homes. And somehow Dad contacted them. And since he was the only one who was literate [that is, he could write and keep books] among them, they made him their manager. They were simple people, but they had their clientele that they delivered milk to, and their manors that they bought milk from.

They rented a big place on Folwarczna Street, and made it into a dairy, and that was the only big kosher dairy in Tarnow, where they converted probably more than 1,000 liters of milk into cheese, butter and other products. There were four big rooms with modern machinery. They were selling it to stores and restaurants and some smaller grocery stores that had milk and cheese. And they also delivered to some small cake shops. And you could buy directly from them as well. It wasn't a great business, but it wasn't too bad either, you could make a living.

Dad kept the books. He was the one who had a permit, and it was very difficult in that time to get a permit for this type of a shop 5. And I remember, there was a competitive company, but not kosher, in Tarnow, and it was called I think 'U Zoski' ['At Zoska's']. Only these two dairies had a permit issued by the local government, and the owner or the manager had to have taken that course that my Father took. I think there were five of them, those partners that had their clientele. They kept on delivering milk to private homes and in shifts helped out at work, or their wives helped, because you had to spin milk, make cheese, butter, and also buttermilk was for sale there.

Father had made a name for himself, he was very much respected and liked, and even sometimes, when there was an argument between Jews, and they didn't want to take it to court, but solve it between themselves, then Dad was the arbiter. And also they knew he knew how to do book-keeping, so he was well trusted. He had no money, but he was respected.

However, he had no time, and I remember that we, the children were always waiting for Purim, which was a holiday, because on Purim Dad was at home, at least in the afternoon we could play checkers with him, or talk to him, he had time for us. Any other time he was always very busy, and used to go to all those prayers, he had to make it to the morning and the evening one - that took time and split the day, so that he was home only late in the evening. He was tired by then and didn't spend time with us. So the kids were always waiting for some holiday, one which wasn't that rigorous, so we could get a hold of Dad.

During Sabbath Dad didn't work, but he prayed a lot instead. And he always went to the shtibl late in the afternoon on Friday, depending on when the stars began to shine. Very often after that prayer he would bring a guest along for a supper. Usually without consulting anyone, but it was a kind of 'anojrech' [an ojrech, Hebrew oreach, orchim using the Ashkenazi pronunciation, for guest] or guest. It was usually a young man who had no family or he studied somewhere, went to some yeshivah or somewhere, and he was invited over on Saturday. I remember once Mom was very upset because Dad hadn't warned her he would bring such a guest over on a certain day. But, in fact - there were five of us - so five or six didn't make a big difference, but she always liked to have been warned ahead.

My mom was a tall blonde. She was really the same height as Dad. And she didn't use to wear a wig, but right after the wedding she wore a kind of a braid fastened to short hair so that everyone would be happy. So that you could say she had a wig, but so that it wasn't a wig. She had pretty blond hair, Dad was dark-haired, Mom was a blonde, so she wore that wig for two, three years, but I don't remember that, I just heard stories. From the time I remember Mom, she had her own hair, which was a big concession in those circles, but she always wore something on her head, or whenever she was outside, she wore a hat or a scarf. I don't think she wore it at home, because I remember her hair, always cut short and somehow tucked, so that there was no suspicion whether it was her own hair or not, and so that nobody made a fuss about it.

Mom was extremely clean and she took great care of the house, and all the time we had to sweep and polish those floors, and when it comes to things like that, she could do it on Saturdays, but of course in such a way that Dad wouldn't find out. Because when it comes to this, Sabbath was more important. So she was a bit more lay.

Mom spoke Polish every day and was more fluent in it than Dad. Dad would make some grammatical mistakes sometimes, but Mom never. She was from slightly different circles and she read, maybe not very serious literature, but she read from time to time, she had some books in Polish. She borrowed them from someone; there was an aunt who used to read, so they exchanged books or something.

We would bring Polish books from a library. Both my sister and I belonged to a library. I belonged to a library called TSL, I think that stood for Towarzystwo Szkol Ludowych [Rural Schools Association]. I used to borrow books there, I know I had to fight for it, because I had to pay a fee there - I think 1 zloty a month - and we didn't really have money. So Mom sometimes read those books, and if Dad knew we had something new, some book, he always had a look at it, because he was curious what we were reading. But he didn't read much himself. And Mom could read Jewish [Yiddish], and sometimes she also read a book in Yiddish.

Mom didn't work, but helped Dad. Mainly at the store, especially at the beginning, that is in that dairy in the basement where there was only one partner. Mom spent a lot of time there, and other than that she did the shopping, cooked at home, took care of us. So she was busy, she didn't have time to chit-chat. On Saturdays sometimes she would go to her aunt Fryma, the wife of Majer Muschel [German spelling kept due to Austrian influences], who was the younger brother of Grandfather. That aunt was more or less her age, not much older. They lived on the Plac Rybny [literally: Fish Square]. She used to go visit there, sometimes she brought us along.

What else did she do? I know that, for example, she used to help my sister to go on ice, that is, skating, which was just unthinkable. Mom didn't skate herself, just helped my sister hide from Dad. Dad would have never agreed to it, because it was completely not kosher - some strange people, and they danced, music was playing and they were dressed in such a way - it was out of the question. Everything was kept a secret from Dad. The skates my sister hid at some friend's, and whenever she was to go skating, she went there first to pick them up, and Mom was making sure it all went well.

When it comes to education, Mom went to some school, I think to a business school. But I don't know what it was called. I know that inside the wardrobe's door there was a photograph of Mom in such tall laced shoes up to her knee, they must have been in style back then, and in a pleated skirt and a very pretty pleated blouse. Mom said that it was taken when she was taking some course.

Mom married very young, when she was 19. Shortly after that my sister Tosia was born [Polish diminutive of Tauba]. After my sister was born, my Mom was very sick. They sent her to Karlovy Vary, it was called Karlsbad in German 6, she was there twice. My sister was also sick a lot as a small child, so Mom didn't really have time to finish her education.

Mom spoke German. During World War I her family escaped from Tarnow to Vienna and most likely Mom brushed up her German there. She was self- taught, but she spoke nicely and with a Viennese accent, which we found out during the war. When there were Germans there, then Mom, whenever a German would come to the apartment, then Mom spoke with them. She was the eldest of her siblings - she was born in 1901, so she took care of her younger sister Brajndla [Bronia] there in Vienna.

My sister and I liked it when Mom told us stories about Vienna, since they spent about two years there before they came back. She told us about the 'Riesenrad.' [Riesenrad, a tourist attraction in Vienna, a giant Ferris Wheel, giving tourists an opportunity to admire the city from the height of 65 meters]. It was a huge hoop, a vertical carousel, and she used to go on that carousel and took her sister along.

The fact that my parents knew German came up at some other time as well. I remember I found in the lower drawer of the wardrobe a pack of letters tied with a ribbon, and I saw they were in Hebrew and some in German. Those were the letters my parents wrote to each other back when they were engaged.

The Jewish history in Tarnow

At home, I remember, before the war we had a servant, a maid, Polish. There was one for many years, my Mom took her in as a young girl; she was maybe a teenager. First she worked for a Polish neighbor that lived above us, and she kept pestering her, didn't treat her well at all. Mom found her in the basement once, where the caretaker lived. She hid there, because that neighbor from above had thrown her out. So Mom took her in and taught her, so that she never mixed up treyf with kosher.

She came from somewhere near Zakliczyn, from Wesolowo [23 kilometers from Tarnow]. And she was with us for many years. She learned everything and became so enlightened and elegantly dressed, that, for example, when my friends came over, those who didn't visit often, they thought from far away that it was my Mom. Maryna - that was her name - came to us when she was about 14, and left when she was, I think, 27.

She left finally, because she had a brother who was a priest, who kept telling her to leave and he took her in. First she had to learn how to cook normally, because for us she made Jewish dishes, and she had to learn how to make pork chops. So she had to take a course, and then she was his housekeeper, he got a parish somewhere there, and she went there.

As children we were so attached to Marynia [Polish diminutive for Maryna], that when we woke up we weren't calling for Mom, but for Marynia. She was from a very poor family, she had a lot of siblings, sometimes her father would come from the village to pick something up in Tarnow, and so we even met him. And when she was to go home for Christmas, we baked her special cookies with a hole in them, so that she could hang them on a Christmas tree. And after her we had another girl, Wisia, also Polish. She stayed until the war, but we didn't get as attached to her.

I think I remember all holidays at home. Especially Pesach. We used to call it Easter. I remember my daughter was very surprised when I called Pesach that, because she always thought that Easter means a real Polish Easter. But she didn't know that this is what we called it in our area. We did general cleaning then, where we had to turn everything inside out, wash and scrub everything. There was a full set of pots and plates and cups, all dishes and utensils, which all year long stood packed partially in the room behind the mirror and partially on the attic. And we couldn't use it all year long, except on this Easter Holiday.

The cups were very pretty, I remember, completely different than the ones we used every day. And before we took and placed all that, we had to scrub all the cupboards. We lined the cupboards with clean paper so that it didn't touch anything and there was paper even on the windowsill, so that there wouldn't be any crumbs. And the rest of the food which was at home, you couldn't use it; it was called 'humyc' [chametz]. There was a ceremony to sell the chametz to someone [non-Jewish] and then buy it back from him after the holidays. And there was a caretaker who would buy all this chametz, because he wasn't a Jew. He bought everything from the entire building, and didn't even see it, because the chametz stayed at our homes, but he would get 50 groszy for that later. Of course he bought it and then sold it back so that during the holidays we had nothing that wasn't just for the holidays.

I also remember that as a child I couldn't understand why after that general cleaning Dad was walking around with a little brush that some housewives use to smear egg yolks on a cake [a goose feather], and was looking for bun or bread crumbs. Mom used to wink at him and show him where [to look] and Dad would find some. He would find something in a few places, and I couldn't understand how, after all this cleaning, he could still find something. But it was Mother who left it, because that was the custom, that she'd put it somewhere and immediately tell him where, under this closet or in that corner, or somewhere else, that this chametz is there, and Dad had a special paper dustpan, and used this brush to sweep everything onto the dustpan, and later we would burn all of it.

But matzah was baked at some trusted baker's, so that it was 100 percent safe [kosher]. And despite that, Dad never ate matzah. Dad had some other matzot, made of rye flour. They were called something like 'shmile matzah.' [Editor's note: Shemurah Matzah, usually a handmade matzah, baked under special supervision of a rabbi throughout the entire process. Among other things all dishes used to make it must be washed and dried exactly every 18 minutes, the time after which, according to the Halakhah law, fermentation begins.] They were baked in a special way. A few Hasidim would get together and bake them. I thought those matzot weren't tasty. So Dad ate those matzot of his, but ours weren't non-kosher, we could put them on the table next to the other ones. He also never ate crumbled matzah and put it into the chicken soup or something. You couldn't soak it [the matzah].

At Pesach children had to take a nap during the day, which, I remember, I hated, because I never liked sleeping during the day. But we had to, so that we wouldn't doze off later, because we had to stay up till late at night and sit at the table. So I used to cheat, pretending that I was taking a nap, because I didn't like it very much. Later, during the seder supper, the table was moved next to the bed, since we had to eat that supper resting on an elbow, as if lying down.

Later there were those questions - 'kashes' [a type of a Talmud question asked to a rabbi; questions asked during Pesach were very rarely called kashes, they were rather called: The Four Questions or mah nishtanah]. First I would answer, but later just my brother. [Editor's note: The Four Questions are traditionally being asked, and not answered by the youngest child at the Pesach table.]

All dishes had to be as God ordered. There was egg smoked on fire, there was a bit of horseradish, and various other dishes. There were also special plates with dents, and in each dent there was an appropriate dish. Dad used to hide the matzah, and we would search for that matzah, and whoever found it would get something. That matzah was called afikoman. So Dad would hide it under a pillow or something. He'd hide it, so that we, the kids could find it. When I was a bit older I would let my brother find it. Besides, whatever we would get as a reward, we'd get anyway, because for the Easter holiday, for Pesach, we usually got either new shoes, or new stockings which we needed anyway. We had to have something new for that holiday. That was the rule.

Father made sure the seder night was the way it was supposed to be. He wore a white gown, over his clothes, tied in the waist, and when he was saying the Eliash prayer, we would open the door so that Eliash could come in, because he was to come in and drink from the chalice. And there was a special chalice for Eliash.

At Purim we used to dress up, and in the last years that I remember, we kept dressing my brother Mojzesz [Polish form of Mozes] up as a girl. I don't know where, but we would find at home long strips of fabric, and we'd make something like braids out of them. We'd put those braids on him, tie a scarf on his head, his face was indeed like a girl's, so round. But all in all, the entire thing was not just about those games, but about bringing sweet gifts, on a plate covered with a napkin to people. We had a whole list of people to take it to, and we usually used to get some from them, too. The entire deal with the gifts was that on two beds - Mom and Dad's - put together and covered with a clean tablecloth or a sheet, we would put all those sweets and various cookies, fruits, chocolates, that were a set. And later we would take it and portion it.

We also had gifts for non-Jews, but it would be a bottle of wine, some more elegant chocolate or something. Because they knew we had such holidays, so we used to bring them gifts. It was always to remind them about us, or sometimes you just wanted to please someone. We would make these portions for all friends and family. There was lots of it, we would put all the sweets on a deeper plate, cover it nicely with a clean napkin and tie this napkin underneath, under the plate somehow, and we would go around with it. And my brother Moniu [Polish diminutive of Mozes] or myself would take it.

Aside from that we used to read Megillat Ester, and my brother had a rattler which, when you were spinning it, it rattled. And whenever Dad said the word Haman, he would rattle it. Brother also had a dreidel, that's how we called it, it was a lead cube with a leg, and it had something like handles on both sides. You'd hold the upper part, and if you knew how to handle it, and turned it, it would spin for a while, a little spinning top.

I also remember it was the only day in the year that Dad would play domino or some checkers or lottery with us. [Editor's note: such plays were being played traditionally for Chanukkah, not for Purim.] And we were on cloud nine, because we really loved it when Dad played with us, because otherwise he never had time. Aside from all that there were also meat dumplings for dinner, and sweet triangular buns with blueberry jam. There was a custom called hamantashen. We didn't even use to call it hamantashen, but I knew that name.

For all these holidays we didn't use to go to a synagogue, but to that unfortunate shtibl where Dad always used to go. It was very ugly. There was a balcony upstairs where women went. And men were downstairs. I remember that Dad used to take us there for Yom Kippur, and maybe for Rosh Hashanah.

For all other holidays and on Saturdays we had our prayer books and we had to pray at home. And with time, I simply started to cheat. I could read it, because I learned to, but I didn't understand it, and I can't say that I was passionate about it, I didn't really care. But for some period of time, before I started to rebel, I used to say a few prayers that I had marked in my prayer book. And we had to say it every Saturday morning, when Dad was in the prayer house, and when he came back he always asked, and that was the worst, because I didn't want to lie. So, to somehow get out of it, I kind of said a part of it, and when he asked whether I had already said my prayer, I would answer: yes. And it wasn't a lie entirely, because I had taken a look at it somewhat.

At Yom Kippur you had to fast, and of course my parents fasted and we fasted; my brother until the war was too young to fast and only during the war he managed to fast one time. Because when he died he wasn't 14 years old yet, and he started when he was 13, so he fasted only once. But we fasted, and of course Dad and Mom fasted. Children, when they were younger, fasted for only half a day, and then ate normally, but kids had this ambition to fast all day, and then they bragged about it. Later, in the evening, we had a very ceremonious and filling supper. We had neighbors so fanatically religious that, this neighbor and maybe his wife too, not only fasted, but they wouldn't even swallow saliva, when they had some, they would spit it out. So that it wasn't that they were drinking something.

For Chanukkah there was this oil candlestick. It was a menorah and it had little cups into which oil was poured, a wick was made out of cotton and put in there. There were more wicks every day. And the candlestick stood in the window. And I remember I knocked it over once and I spilled oil on my dress and the stain never went away. It wouldn't wash away. Mom was upset. But Chanukkah was a lighter holiday; I remember we used to always get something, but not money, rather some things, maybe some clothing or something.

For summer holidays we used to go to Ciezkowice or to Muszyna [Ciezkowice - 26km from Tarnow, health resort Muszyna - 75km from Tarnow], all in the Malopolska region. We used to go with our parents and Aunt Bronia who was Mother's younger sister, younger by two years. That's the aunt who lived in Cracow. She went to America, too, before the war, but came back. She had a son more or less my age, maybe half a year younger. I remember that in one of those towns I went into deep water and was drowning. And they had to rescue me, so they pulled me by the hair. It was such a summer resort. We used to bring feather quilts, pots, and some huge luggage.

Dad usually didn't go with us; if it was some place closer he would drop by on Saturday and Sunday. Because on Sundays the store had to be closed as well. Other than that he didn't use to go with us. I don't even know where he ate then, maybe somewhere at Mom's family, in Tarnow. And we used to rent an entire house from some farmers, and they lived in some shack or moved out somewhere. And once, if I'm not mistaken, Marynia came with us, to help, because we had to cook there. All that was a few good years before the war.

And later our parents didn't go anywhere, but we went to camps. It was a camp from the school, Beit Yaakov 7, which I attended with my sister. They were very cheap because they rented some cottages from farmers and we slept on the floor on hay mattresses. And there was a kitchen, kosher, of course. We brought a cook with us, used to go on trips, I even remember there was one trip to Poronin [104km from Tarnow]. I went to such a camp twice, that is the first time they took me out of pity, because I had an older sister, but I was too young for it. I don't remember any special program on Jewish traditions on those camps.

I know that we had a really nice supervisor and all girls were in love with her. They were happy when she even looked at them. She came from Cracow. I almost loved her; her name was Rajza Klingier. The classes in Beit Yaakov cost money, but not a lot. There were only girls there. We were learning how to read and write in Yiddish, there were also classes on Jewish history and something on religion. We used to go there three times a week with Tosia [Polish diminutive of Tauba].

My school years

I went to a normal school - public, Polish. And there were Polish and Jewish kids there. It so happened that we lived almost opposite of the school building, but there were two schools there. And there was the Slowacki School and the Krolowa Jadwiga School. I went to Krolowa Jadwiga, and that wasn't quite in front, but you had to go around the building.

I started attending school when I wasn't quite six years old yet, because my sister was already going there and a few years earlier my cousin, who had the same last name as I, graduated from that school. Later she lived in Lodz, but at that time she still lived in Stopnica, and there was a six- grade school there and in order to do the 7th grade she came to Tarnow. And since the cousin had a good reputation, and so did my sister, I asked them to let me in earlier. I was first going there when kids were playing in the school yard, and I was waving my arms too, when they were doing some exercises. So I wasn't even 13 when I graduated, and later I went to a one- year business school.

Most of the teachers in the public school were Polish. Only religion was taught by a Jew, Mrs. Taubeles. Because we went to religion separately - all Jews from both schools. And religion for non-Jews was taught by a priest. I didn't really experience anti-Semitism, there; maybe sometimes there'd be something slightly unpleasant. There were teachers who would nag at some of us sometimes, but it usually went together with the fact that a girl was a worse student, or came from some neglected home, and then she was also teased about being Jewish. There weren't any antagonisms between girls. Usually no big friendships either. It's just that we were about 30 Jews there, so naturally all my friends were Jewish.

On the other hand, however, in the class that I went to starting in the 5th grade, there was a girl - Polish, who saved my life during the war. We weren't really friends, but it so happened that I bumped into her and told her I wanted to get out of the ghetto. And she helped me out; I spent a few weeks at her place on the Aryan side. Her name was Gabriela, but everyone called her Ela. But I'll get to that later. I didn't go to that school on Saturdays, but they just had gym, music then, on purpose, because we were more or less half and half of Jews and non-Jews. It didn't matter much, and I was always a very good student, so nobody demanded that I went to school on Saturdays. After I graduated from this school, as I said earlier, I went to a business school.

That business school, it was, I think, called merchant training or something like that. It was founded a year or two earlier, some time in 1935. Jewish teachers founded this organization and this school was private and not in my neighborhood. It was one-year at the time [when Mrs. Fudem studied there], and later it was supposed to become a two-year school. And I started going there, because I couldn't go to the business school my sister went to.

My sister graduated with a three-year degree after seven years of studying, so it was almost like high school. But they weren't accepting students who couldn't come on Saturdays. You had to go [to school] on Saturdays. My sister managed to finish it, because she had a friend, non-Jewish, who used to come to her after school on Saturdays. She'd drop by at our place on the way home. This friend used to leave her notebooks, some notes. Sometimes she would come on Sunday and would show my sister what she needed to do to catch up. And it was so that on Saturdays they had important classes in that school. And later they turned it into a four-year school with the high school final examinations, and there was no mercy, you had to attend on Saturdays, so it wasn't for me, since Father would never agree to it.

Out of all classes, in both schools I always liked mathematics best; it was called arithmetic at that time. And I also liked Polish, but I didn't like history much. I don't remember why I didn't like history, probably because of the teacher. But I don't remember who taught it, they were usually women.

Out of the teachers I remember one lady - a Christian - Miss Witekowna. She later got married and her name was Mrs. Prazuchowa. I was in the first grade, and I remember, I could read and write a bit, so in the first and second grade Miss Witekowna, who liked or favored me, let me come to her home and she used to lend me books to read. I used to go with her to her home after school, she lived quite far, in another neighborhood, and she used to lend me books. And later, after I read it, she would ask me what it was about; she was checking whether I had really read it. And she was very kind. She lived somewhere close to Ogrod Strzelecki. Later I belonged to a library, but those first books, I remember, I had from her.

That business school I went to was such a school that was really preparing for an accountant's assistant. So my sister, when I finished that school, she was already working and I did something like my apprenticeship in that company, when I wasn't quite 14 yet. That was my first job. It was a textile company. The owners were two partners, my sister was an accountant there. It wasn't any serious bookkeeping, since it wasn't a big company. But they let me come there for a while, I was at the cash desk, I would write some receipts - the cashier will pay, and so on... I even remember that they, those owners, started during that time, I think in Bielsko [140km from Tarnow] a small workshop with looms, where they started manufacturing some fabrics on a small scale, and I did some calculations of those fabrics for them, and they were very happy with me.

Later I started working as an accountant in some other company, and, I think, one of these partners, because there were also two partners there, was related to one of those for whom my sister worked. The new company's name was Guter and Melinger, and they manufactured and sold ready-to-wear clothes, both wholesale and retail. There were a lot of stores and workshops with ready-to-wear clothes in Tarnow. Where I worked, one of the owners was a cutter and he would cut fabric that was later given some home- workers to sew. They would sew at home and bring those suits, and every week I had to clear accounts with them. Later they were sending those suits [to clients]. I remember there were clients even close to the eastern border.

Regardless of that, you could also buy something right there, except the entrance wasn't at the front, but from the back yard, so not too many clients from the street were getting there. But there was a boy, I don't know on what conditions he worked, probably on commission - a kind of a tout. Whenever he saw someone walking by a ready-to-wear clothes store, he would tell them there was another store, somewhat cheaper, because it was actually cheaper at our store.

At this Guter and Melinger I did real bookkeeping, checks and balances, that's what it was called. I had to clear accounts with those home-workers, who used to come on Fridays, and had their payday, and I paid them, and filled out some forms. I also took care of the correspondence.

I worked there until the beginning of the war. And even a few days after it broke out, because I remember one incident, it was already war and there was an alarm, the siren was announcing that everyone should seek shelter, because there were some airplanes somewhere. And I was running, I remember, home from that store. It wasn't far, but I was so scared and agitated by it, because I thought that for as long as the siren was on nothing would happen to me, but when it stopped, they could start bombing.

When it comes to Tarnow, before the war there were probably about 50 percent of Jews among the inhabitants, so about 30 thousand, because it was a city with a population of 50 and later 60 thousand. Where we lived, on Szpitalna Street, it wasn't a strictly Jewish neighborhood, but most houses were occupied by Jews. We lived in a two-storey house, and a few years earlier occupants of those houses were mixed. But just before the war only Jews lived there. And there were mostly Jews in that neighborhood.

Another, even more strictly Jewish neighborhood was near the market. There was a fish market, where my relatives lived, and there were only Jews there. But there weren't very many Jews in the area where my business school was - on Matejki Street, and where that friend of mine, who let me stay with her later, lived - on Parkowa Street. It was the area of Ogrod Strzelecki, and there was a seminary there. That was the neighborhood where fewer Jews lived. But on the main street that went through that area - Krakowska Street, there were some Jewish stores there.

We didn't know any rabbi personally, but I had a friend who was a rabbi's daughter. Her name was Horowitz. And she had two younger brothers; I remember they used to wear velvet hats, even as kids they were dressed like that. And I remember that during the war someone took a picture of them, when the final persecutions started. The photograph was shown in a Nazi newspaper - 'Völkischer Beobachter' [a daily newspaper bought by Adolf Hitler and the NDASP in 1932, published till the collapse of the Third Reich, used as a tool of Nazi and anti-Semitic propaganda]. On the first page there was the picture of those two boys - with blue eyes, they were very pretty kids - with a caption, reading 'growing generation of villains.' It matched them perfectly, such pretty kids...

I remember there was a mikveh in Tarnow. Dad always used to go there on Fridays. I know also, that women had to take a ritual bath there before the wedding. It was a big bathhouse on the Plac Boznic [literally: Synagogue Square]. Later it was used as a point of getting to the ghetto 8 or from the ghetto, because its one side was out of the ghetto, but the other side had an entrance inside the ghetto. The mikveh was on the Plac Boznic. And I had a relative, who lived on the Aryan side, and whose parents lived in the ghetto. He worked on the railway. And he was getting to the ghetto in such a way that he would enter from the Aryan side in that uniform, a coat with railway buttons, and once inside he would put the coat inside out, put some hat on, hide the other one, and would exit on the Jewish side.

We used to buy meat at the kosher butcher, of course, in the Jewish store - there was no doubt about that. But it happened sometimes that we'd buy something live, like for Rosh Hashanah. We had to have a sacrificial hen. We would say a prayer and spin the hen above the head. And then we'd take the hen to the butcher, and there was this shochet that would kill it. And I really hated it when they were spinning that hen over the head. Because it was flailing her wings and I was afraid it would do something to me.

When it comes to Tarnow, I don't remember any anti-Semitic incidents. Both groups - Jewish and Christian - lived separately, and aside from trade or meetings of the intelligentisa, there were no other contacts. We kept in touch with some non-Jewish neighbors. We had one neighbor above us, who every Sunday morning, before she went to church, came by, kneeled in the middle of the kitchen, and asked whether she looked good, whether her stockings fit her well, if she had put her skirt on correctly. That was Mrs. Dankowa. We had a good relationship with her. On the ground floor there were neighbors who had boys my age, and they always invited us over for Christmas and for Easter, that real Easter. And we used to get a chocolate egg or something like that.

My escape from the ghetto

I remember news about the changing situation in Germany, when Hitler was coming to power 9. They used to even say that a year before the war they started throwing Jews of Polish descent out of Germany 10. Those who had once emigrated from Poland, either themselves or their ancestors. And it was this big operation, they were evicted, and sent away, and it happened at times that on the border entire transports were stopped. They had to be received and placed.

Out of such a transport I had a friend for some time. She didn't speak Polish and she was so unhappy. I don't remember who recommended her to me, but I decided to teach her Polish. I remember she couldn't understand why we need seven cases if she's got four and she can say everything. Her name was Hania Sznur. I remember that others from those transports were going from one house to another and kids were making fun of them, because they spoke in broken Polish. One would say: 'Jestem biedna emigranta' [broken Polish for: 'I'm a poor emigrant']. Of other international affairs I remember there were talks about Anschluss 11 and about the dangers of fascism.

In our family we never talked about emigration. In my childhood there were some discussions about something else, when we weren't too well off, Father's brother, the one from Lodz, Uncle Baruch wanted to help us and there was a suggestion that we move to Grandpa's to Stopnica. My mom wouldn't hear about that and we were crying, my sister and I, that they talk about moving. But later everybody forgot about it.

We had the first bomb in Tarnow even before the war broke out. It was placed, or thrown, at the train station. There were horse carriages in front of the station, and I remember perfectly well that after the explosion the horses, scared, ran trotting across the town, white, covered with dust, because the building collapsed there. On the same day we saw our teacher to the station, because she decided to go home to Cracow. And that bomb exploded when the train from Krynica [Krynica, a mountain health resort, 70km from Tarnow] arrived, about an hour later. Tarnow was a fairly large railroad junction, since all trains to Krynica, Nowy Sacz, Cracow, Lwow, were going through Tarnow. And then [when the bomb exploded] we all knew that it's a sign of the war. Later, I remember, there was also an air raid.

I remember, I was woken up by horrible thunder, I looked up, and the lamp was rocking above my head, swinging really, it was such a tremor. We lived on Szpitalna Street [literally: Hospital Street], there were two hospitals on that street, one public, and a few hundred meters further a Jewish hospital. The bomb landed there, it didn't hit the hospital, but exploded right in front of it. Later there was a huge hole in the street, and then we knew the war was here for serious.

I remember when the German army was marching in and tanks were entering the city. There was a smell of some weird gasoline, I remember. Everyone was scared, of course nobody knew how it would turn out; they were saying it wouldn't last long, that it would change, that England and France would help us.

So I still worked during that time for two, three weeks. But they [the employers] started liquidating the store and later I just stayed at home. It became so 'war-like' that my sister wasn't working anywhere either. It looked like we wouldn't have money to survive because that dairy that I mentioned earlier, which existed for only two years, was damaged when the central prayer house in Tarnow was blown up. [Editor's note: The New Synagogue on the corner of Nowa and Folwarczna Streets was opened on the birthday of Franz Joseph, that is on 18th August 1908. This explains its other names - Jubilee or even Franz Joseph' Synagogue. It was set on fire in November 1939 and was blown up the same month. In September 1993 the former location of the synagogue was commemorated with a plaque.] I remember that Germans kept trying to blow it up, they were struggling for two days or so before they finally blew it up. Because it was a huge synagogue, with a large dome.

I remember that when a train I was on was getting closer to Tarnow, when I was coming back from somewhere, I could see it shining from a distance of many, many kilometers. It was covered with some copper or something, it was shining like gold. And they were putting explosives under it with no success at first, but when they managed to blow it up in the end, whole big blocks were flying around. And it was a narrow street [Folwarczna], and the dairy was just across, and got damaged and we were practically left with no means for survival.

So Dad organized himself some job, as an accountant, I don't remember what company it was. And my sister and I began working in a fruit preserve plant, which the Germans opened in the basement of the house taken away from my Grandfather. His wine bottling plant stopped operating before the war, he only had his store upstairs, but those basements in this nice big house downtown [corner of Folwarczna and Goldhammera Streets] were adapted mainly for the production of wine and that's where that plant was.

They were producing some marmalades and juices, and my sister and I worked the night shift there for two, three months, we peeled apples and pumpkins with a special tool, a spoon with sharp edges, we were cutting out scoops, these little round balls. And they made compote, stewed fruit, that instead of little cubes had these balls [of fruit]. My sister and I would come home early in the morning, and I know that the parents were still asleep at home. That was in fall and winter [1939], so it was still dark and we didn't want to wake them up. At the end of the porch in front of our house there was a box for coal and we used to sit on this box and wait until the light was switched on, which meant that Father had gotten up. When the light was on, we knocked quietly, so that we wouldn't wake up Mother and our brother, and Dad would let us in. That went on for maybe two, three months, at the turn of 1939/1940, and then that ended too.

In 1940 we all sat at home, we had no work, neither us nor Dad. Then Mom agreed that we should take a cutting and sewing course. This course was taught by the wife of a doctor, an assimilated Jew. I think she was an amateur, but she had her clientele, and became a dressmaker, because her husband was somewhere in the army, I think, and with that army was running away across the border to Hungary. And she stayed alone and she opened a dressmaking shop. And she accepted apprentices, there were six of us, and taught us cutting and sewing, and also was taking advantage of the fact that we would finish by hand things she made for her customers. She had her clientele, German women used to come there, too.

Back then, in 1940, we could still get around somehow. But it was getting very unpleasant, every couple of days a new announcement appeared saying what [Jews] cannot do and what they have to give up. We weren't allowed to have furs, tea, etc., and everything was punishable by death. The posts were in Polish and German. And men were also not allowed to wear beards, we had a horrible and painful moment when the barber came to our home to shave my Dad's beard off so that he could go outside, because if not, then the Germans would catch him and tear the beard off. Whoever was at home, we all cried, together with Dad.

Grandpa, of course, also shaved his beard off; I don't know what it was like at his place then. But I remember that my grandpa was without a beard, we joked at home then that he looked like an old highlander. Because he was very tall, huge. Dad's beard wasn't very long, but still had to be shaved. And they didn't use a razor, but something nasty, it was called 'razol,' some chemical agent. First it was cut with scissors, and then treated with that 'razol,' it was a lesser sin if treated with 'razol,' I don't know why...

I remember as if it was today that situation in the room, I know where each one of us stood, when they were cutting that beard off. Dad in general limited our outings, because we kept hearing that they caught somebody, tore out the beard of someone else, took that person away and nobody knows what happened to him. During that time my sister and I were learning German, and Dad used to send either me or my sister to go on that corner where the announcement post was with the newest announcement on what was forbidden. And I had to read it very carefully and repeat, and later Dad would ask questions, and if I didn't know how to answer one, he would get very upset, so I was almost learning by heart what was forbidden.

Back then we were still alone in our apartment, but at the end of 1940 or at the beginning of 1941, they started evicting Jews from certain areas, and also an entire transport of Jews came, I think from Plock. And the Jewish community had to place them somewhere. And because we had two rooms, they took one room away from us and put a family of five there. And the five of us were to stay in the one room, but Mom didn't want to leave the furniture there, so there was no space in our room, because all the furniture from the other room was put into ours.

It was really crowded, and those people were completely different. The girls were going out with boys and they were not the kind of people we would associate with. We did all we could to get rid of that family. It took a couple of months, but we managed to do it, and we had our other room back again.

That was already 1942 and then the first big action [liquidation of Jews] took place during which a lot of people died. We managed to survive because Germans would search by last name, and if they found someone, they would take everyone that lived there. And we weren't on that list. During that first action a lot of people were taken away, many shot on the spot, in apartments or in the yards. And many were taken to the Polish cemetery and shot there. The rest was taken somewhere not too far, to some river, it was the Biala River, I think, and shot there. It was the first mass execution.

Before the first action [June 1942] the ghetto wasn't closed yet, and our house remained in the ghetto. But after that action the ghetto got smaller and was surrounded by a partition and the house we lived in was outside the ghetto. So then we had to move. First to Grandpa's, for a week, maybe two. Later even Grandpa's house was outside the ghetto, and we moved into the area of that destroyed synagogue. There we lived above a bakery, also in a two-storey house and we were two big families there in a two-bedroom apartment. The other family, the Franks, we hadn't known earlier, only met them then, in the ghetto. It was a couple with two sons.

Our grandpa lived separately, he was with his second wife then. They had to move out of their house, and moved into a small room not far from us. Everything was not far once they closed everything. Two of Grandpa's sisters moved in with him, the twins: Brajndla and Sara Lea. They were displaced from Dabrowa.

When we were living in the ghetto, despite all the hardships, there were no excuses when it came to keeping everything kosher. Of course, as much as we could. Food still had to be kosher, Mom never broke those rules. We weren't hungry, at least at the beginning. In order to get food, we had to sell things, whatever was left. We didn't have those more expensive things, because furs, etc. were taken away immediately, but we could still find something from some reserves, some jewelry maybe, I don't remember.

The food was quite basic and there was no fish or anything like that. We used to make fish out of eggs then. We would soak a bun in water, hard-boil an egg, mix everything with onion, make balls, and then cook them in a vegetable sauce, just like you make for fish dishes. And it was supposed to taste like fish balls. Sometimes we could smuggle something from outside the ghetto, we used to bring flour, sugar from work, and Grandpa's sisters who lived with him traded it somewhere.

We survived the second action [in September1942], because we all went into hiding. My sister and I hid in one of the basements in our house. I remember that after the last people entered that hiding place, someone on the outside bricked up the entrance. And we managed to save ourselves, and it so happened that Mom and my brother were somewhere else, in some hiding place on Starodabrowska Street, and Dad was somewhere else yet. Dad used to work somewhere, but I don't remember now where it was.

But I remember the Yom Kippur holiday in the ghetto, in 1942. I rebelled then completely and I decided not to fast, which wasn't easy, because we had very modest reserves and hardly anything to eat. Mom did whatever she could to produce something. So she made a kind of potato cake, out of potato flour. It was a big piece, uncut and untouched, so it wasn't easy, but I decided to break the fast and took a bite, and I was as hungry as I would have been if I hadn't eaten anything, or maybe even more. But I proved to myself I didn't die on the spot, because I used to think that if I ate something on Yom Kippur, that meant I would die immediately. Logically I knew it wouldn't happen, but I wanted to prove it to myself. And I did it in great secrecy, no one of my family ever found out that I let myself do it, that on that last Yom Kippur with my parents I didn't fast.

During the third action [in November 1942] I lost my family, only my sister survived. It was in the fall of 1942. On the day of the action my sister went to work, I had escaped from the ghetto a week earlier and stayed at that school friend's of mine I mentioned earlier, Gabriela, her maiden name was Niedojadlo. My sister told me later how it happened. It turned out that our parents were hiding in the same basement as I had with my sister during the previous action, but someone informed on them. It was someone who was taken away. He was at the train station and said he would tell where the Jews were. He was a Jew as well. He thought he would save himself.

There was even this one incident where a son, who was in the Jewish police 12, informed on his own mother, he said where she was hiding. He went to that shelter where his mother was hiding and said, 'Don't be afraid, come out, don't be afraid. Come out, don't be afraid, you'll be fine.' And that mother came out. And later they were teasing him when he was leading people to work 13, someone from the first row would call this text: 'Come out, don't be afraid', and someone else called: 'You'll be fine' and they'd repeat it, and he would turn back, but could never catch the one who was teasing him.

I knew that there would be another action, I don't know from where, but most of us knew, they were talking about it, predicting, sometimes not exactly, sometimes it was earlier than they were saying it would be, and sometimes a few days later, but we knew it would happen. When they started talking that an action is about to happen, I left the ghetto on Sunday and on the next day they took my parents and my brother. I remember I said good bye to the parents, and my brother was crying very bitterly, asking me to take him with me, but it was out of the question for several reasons. Besides, Dad didn't approve of me leaving, but he said that since I decided to do so, when it's a matter of life and death, he cannot say no. But he thought I should share everyone's destiny, I shouldn't be looking for another fate.

After all the good bye's I got in touch with that friend of mine, Gabriela. I saw her a couple of times when they took us to work outside the ghetto. Because my sister and I worked at a German company, Madritsch, where we sewed. And that friend lived on Lwowska Street, which was the ghetto's border, and where that shop I worked in was. And that girl came by to see me at work a few times, and even offered to hide me in case I needed it, but first she had to make sure her mother agreed. They were very nice people, her mother agreed.

That Saturday I got in touch with that friend on the other side of the fence. I called some kid and told him he'd get money from me if he went to the store where my friend worked. She came and we decided she would come the next day, on Sunday - we worked half a day on Sundays as well - that she would come there, to Lwowska Street, to my work and she would get me out. I didn't have any right to be there that Sunday, because during the second action I didn't get a stamp, my sister did and I didn't, so I lost the right to leaving. But since those people who let us work knew me by sight, and they didn't know yet who was allowed to leave and who wasn't, I came out and stayed there. I stayed in the washroom upstairs and stood there for a few hours until it turned dark outside.

And that friend picked me up from there. With great trouble, because the gate was locked, she lied to the gatekeeper, told him some story so that he'd let her in, and she was very afraid later how we were going to leave. She came and said [to the gatekeeper] that she needed to use the bathroom, all of a sudden, in a house where the gate was locked. And the gatekeeper didn't know what she wanted, let her in, but told her to go downstairs, quickly.

However, she knew I was upstairs and ran upstairs. She found me and said 'Jesus, Maria, what am I going to do now? He saw me, he opened the gate.' I prepared some money. She went first, and he wanted to lock the gate behind her, but then he saw that one had come in, but two were leaving! He didn't know what was going on. And I pushed the money into his hand and ran off immediately, she held my arm and we left - in the evening, without an armband 14 on. And that's how I got to her place.

This is how I managed to escape. But I didn't have the proper papers and I couldn't go anywhere and leave there. I got myself some sort of an ID, but it wasn't a 'Kennkarte' 15 which was needed in order to move around freely. I needed money for that, but I couldn't afford it at the time. So I obtained a false 'Ausweis' using her first and last name, and with these papers I couldn't stay at her place officially, so I had to hide.

A week after my escape the third action took place in the ghetto. My sister was at work and when she came back, our parents and our brother were gone; they had taken them in the meantime. I stayed at that friend's for the next few weeks. But my sister was in despair and wanted me to come back, because she couldn't live alone in the empty apartment. And when it turned out that I couldn't go anywhere, I decided to go back to the ghetto. I kept telling myself that if I go back and manage to get myself a false 'Kennkarte,' I'll still leave the ghetto. And so I just went back to the ghetto, a brother of my friend took me back in; I went into the ghetto along with the people coming back from work.

My parents and my brother died in Belzec 16. I know it because Gabriela's brothers worked at the train station, and I heard while I was at her place, that they had to take cars with Jews to Belzec and the Germans ordered them to wait there and after some time gave them empty cars back.

When I went back to the ghetto I didn't have permission to work, and with the greatest effort I managed to go back to the same company. I worked there with my sister for one more year, until the end of the summer of 1943. We lived in a house near the ghetto's border, on Lwowska Street, we got the entire house, we were six to eight girls living in one room. The ghetto was divided into two parts - for those who worked and those who didn't, and we lived in that first part, until the ghetto liquidation at the turn of summer and fall 1943. [Editor's note: the complete liquidation of the ghetto took place in November 1943.]

From Plaszow to Auschwitz

Later it turned out it wasn't a total liquidation, but they moved most of the people. First they kept us at a bus station for two days in a row. We had to kneel. On the first day they took people to the camp in Plaszow 17 and on the second day the rest of the people went straight to Auschwitz and nobody survived there. My grandfather and those aunts were taken on the second day. My sister and I ended up in Plaszow. I think we were moved on Thursday and the others on Friday. But they all died. My sister and I got to Plaszow and stayed there for a year.

In Plaszow we worked for the same company, which moved there. Because the entire management of that company was from Cracow. We worked shifts there and the day shift was almost entirely from Cracow, those who had been in Plaszow earlier. We were on the night shift almost all the time for quite some time. And during the day they would catch us and take blood. They would catch and take blood for soldiers. And it didn't bother them that it was Jewish blood.

We lived in barracks, 100, maybe 200 people in each, I don't remember exactly. The food at Madritsch's wasn't too bad because he organized some extra bread. And it wasn't that clay that we used to get, but for his employees they were bringing food somewhere from the outside and we used to get a quarter of a loaf of bread for exceeding the norm. So all of us together, these ones that sewed better, sewed as much as we could, taking work from the ones that sewed slower. For example I sewed more and if I got half a loaf, twice the quarter for being over that norm, then we all shared among everyone.

That's how I managed until August 1944 when they moved us to Auschwitz. A few months earlier came a transport of Hungarian women who had already been to Auschwitz, and from Auschwitz they brought them to Plaszow, I don't know on what conditions. They were shaved and wore some gray dresses and looked out of this world. Later along with that transport they took some people from Plaszow to Auschwitz and they called us 'a Hungarian transport' because there were a lot of them there. There were more of them than us.

In Auschwitz they shaved our heads, took away our clothing and put us in such barracks where there were maybe 100 people. Precisely, it was in Birkenau 18. For some time I got lucky and worked as a cleaner for the camp officers, I would take things to wash, clean up, sweep floors, things like that. But later we worked physically, and then I was barely alive. They made us dig a new river bed for the Vistula River, and that was the worst time.

In Birkenau we stuck together, my sister and I with three more friends we knew from Plaszow. Up until the moment of one transport from Auschwitz, out of which nobody survived, because everyone died in Stutthof. We were all sent to this transport, but my sister and I were saved by our uncle. But those friends went. I remember we were standing on the square, ready to leave. But we managed to get in touch with that uncle on the other side of the fence; he was our neighbor through the fence. He was the second husband of my aunt Bela, Mom's sister, he had recognized us earlier, as soon as we arrived at Auschwitz. We managed to let him know we are in that transport, and he quickly took our tattoo numbers. And almost at the last moment one of those camp officers came, she walked along the row and called out those numbers. We came forward, she checked whether the numbers were right and then said, 'Disappear.' And she told us which way we should go and we went back to the camp, which was almost empty and stayed there for a few more months, until the end of December 1944.

Bergen-Belsen

On 30th December 1944 my sister and I were taken to Bergen-Belsen 19 in one of the last mass transports. It was such a transport that the one after us went on foot. It was winter and they gave us paper bags we were to put on. We tied them around the neck so that we didn't get cold and also, if someone had something, they would put it in [the bags, to provide insulation from the cold], hay or something, and we went like that for maybe three days.

The cars were locked and there were small iron furnaces in them, and Germans who guarded us used to heat some food up on them, and sometimes even, if it was a good German, he would let us use one. It was New Year's Eve while we were on the train, and we could hear some sounds of celebration when we were going through Germany. And they unloaded us at Bergen-Belsen and later led us quite a long distance on foot.

They put us in barracks where the conditions were very primitive and there were way too many of us in each one. And there, after a fairly short time, starvation began. There was no work, unless someone got lucky and got something to do in the kitchen or the peeling room. I got lucky. I worked in the peeling room for some time. On top of that I had a friend whom I knew from Auschwitz, who worked in the kitchen, and she used to steal some salt from there. You could get anything for salt, salt was at the price of gold. So sometimes I would look after that salt of hers, because otherwise it would have gotten stolen [by prisoners]. They used to steal from one another.

When I worked in the peeling room, once I smuggled out one sliced potato, it was very dangerous. Or a piece of turnip, I would slice it and put in the sleeves because they used to check under the armpits. They never checked in elbows, so I could fasten a small slice there somehow, to bring it to my sister, since there was already great hunger everywhere. When you went through the search and you were caught, it was enough for them to beat you up badly, and you wouldn't be able to get up.

There were some prisoners that used to steal soup, and later you could trade that soup. Sometimes I got a pot of soup to trade, and if there were 30 portions out of it, I made, lets say, 32, thanks to which my sister and I had soup. You could exchange such a portion for a piece of margarine or a so-called 'Blutwurst' [blood sausage].

There was also a transport from some work camp, not from a death camp, and they still had some aspirations that they needed thread. So we made thread, pulled it out of a blanket and wound it onto a piece of paper and sold it. I learned to wind it so well that it looked as if made in a factory. And I would trade this thread for a piece of turnip for example, that's how we did business.

My sister during that time was literally fading away before my eyes. She was three and a half years older than me, but everyone said about her: 'your younger sister.' They thought she's much younger than me, while I was 20 and she was almost 24. But she looked 15, she was looking really bad. I came down with typhus at the camp, but managed to get better, but when she got sick, she was getting worse and worse every day.

During that time there was absolutely no more bread. However, after we got liberated we found entire barracks filled from top to bottom with moldy bread, because they weren't giving us bread and it went bad. Anyway, they hadn't given us bread for entire weeks, since January, February. For the last two, three months we were only getting brewed turnip, with nothing else, not even salt, just like that, half raw.

It was in these conditions that my sister came down with typhus. I remember, she was placed in a so-called 'rewir' [Polish, literally: territory - here hospital ward]. It was like a hospital, so a place where theoretically you could die in peace, but it wasn't quite like that. Two, three women were put in one bed, and full of lice. The lice were so huge that, literally, in my blanket there was a louse on every thread, on every spot. Those blankets literally walked by themselves.

It was in the last period of the war, I would go to see my sister, try to organize something, bring her something, save her. And then the English came, and liberated us. They were a bit late, say, if they had come a week earlier, there would have been a chance. I had a friend whose sister was also in the same state and she rescued her, but really at the last moment. But my sister was like a skeleton then and it was too late for everything. They freed us on 15th April and she died on 23rd April.

We knew what was about to happen a few days before the liberation. People were talking, and Germans were taking off, there were fewer of them, every once in a while some were leaving. We knew the front was getting closer. And when the English came, they said through the speakers not to worry, that we're free. I remember I wasn't even joyful, I had no idea how to be happy. I couldn't believe it was really the end, I wasn't really conscious of anything.

After the liberation

After the liberation they deloused and fed us, and after a while they began moving us to a different place. It was about two, three kilometers from the camp. There were barracks in which Hungarians working for the Germans used to live. They had been sent away and we got an entire town of barracks. Tens of two-storey houses forming these squares. There were also one-storey houses for diners, theaters and administration. Initially they turned most buildings into hospitals. And then more or less it turned into a DP camp, a camp for displaced persons [Editor's note: Prisoners of Nazi concentration camps and other people moved against their will by the German administration during and after the war, were called Displaced Persons and placed in special camps from which they were moving to target places (country of origin, emigration)].

There were also transports of Poles from forced labor camps. At first there was some plan to move us, and they packed some people onto trucks and sent us to the Belgian border; I was among them. First they took us to Diepholz [today Germany, 120km from Hamburg], then from Diepholz to Linge [today Germany, 60km from Cologne], and they kept moving us every few weeks, and then finally they decided to take us back to Bergen-Belsen.

In the meantime they created a camp high school, and I went to such a high school. The teachers taught whatever they knew, so not all subjects were offered. I remember there was no biology. But there was chemistry, because there was a chemist, there was something like physics, there wasn't much of it. During that time refugees from Poland started coming. There were those who survived the war in Russia, or somewhere with Aryan papers, in any case entire transports were coming, and, among others, my future husband, Leon, got there from Russia. He was in Poland and when it turned out he couldn't find anybody, because everyone was killed, he got on a transport to Bergen- Belsen and we met then.

For some time I worked for the English administration of the camp, they created a search office there. They created files and people from all over the world were searching for each other. They were looking for us and we were looking all over the world, so there were many of the staff there, and I typed, because I knew German and English. I remember also I used to type names of the sought-after on cinematic film that was shown in movie theatres before a movie, to help with the search. A few people got found thanks to this.

We didn't have to work and go to school in the camp. It was voluntary. They just fed us, we had these coupons, and there were diners, where we were getting food rations. And when I started working they paid us with cigarettes and chocolate. And you could exchange it somewhere. But at the end, right before we left, there was the first big exchange of that German money which was worth nothing, they would cut off some zeroes and print new money. Then I received my last pay in the search office in marks [German currency], not some cigarettes or something.

The camp was closed and there were gates through which we could normally go out to freedom, but once or twice there were some incidents and they locked those gates as punishment. Once somewhere in the area a cow or a calf got stolen, and they suspected, probably rightly so, that it was stolen by someone from the camp. There were also some demonstrations, when there was that episode with the ship 'Exodus.' We went then to demonstrate to Hamburg, which is where the ship was. [Editor's note: In July 1947 British war ships intercepted on the Palestinian coast the 'Exodus 1947' ship with 4,500 Jewish refugees on board. They were forced to turn back and go to the Marseille harbor in France. Then they had to go to Hamburg in Germany where the police forced them to leave the ship.]

Married life

I married my husband in Bergen. It was on 11th September 1947. We got married in the office, and I remember that my husband didn't understand German and didn't say anything. At some point I had to give him a sign so that he'd said 'Ja' [German for 'yes']. Some family members can't forgive us until this day that it wasn't a real Jewish wedding. But nobody was thinking about that back then.

Bergen was a town a few kilometers away from the camp. And that was the only contact with Germans we had then. We had everything else in the camp. There were also some trading contacts. We used to get coffee, which was unattainable to Germans. Germans drink a lot of coffee, and they were selling up, some of them completely, for coffee. I remember I bought an old sewing machine in Hamburg that I still have even today.

We stayed at the camp until 1948, and then decided to go back to Poland. Everyone was advising us against it. But I wanted to study more, and I thought it would only be possible in Poland. Besides, I was very much attached to the language and couldn't really imagine living anywhere else.

In Poland first we went to Wroclaw, because I already knew then that two younger brothers of my mother, Rafael and Mozes, had survived. They stayed in Russia during the war, and later came to Wroclaw. And we came with a box in which I had all my belongings, and that old Singer sewing machine, and I had an ax which I brought as well. I remember Mom's Brothers laughed at me when they saw the box, because they thought I brought some treasures from Germany, but in reality there were just my shabby things in there.

Later I went to Lodz to look for the rest of the family. And I got there exactly when my cousin Sara Lea [daughter of Baruch, Gizela Fudem's father's brother] and her husband were ready to leave for Israel. I managed to see her then. I decided to stay in Wroclaw then. It was still 1948, and after some two months of being in Poland I took university entry exams, humanities then, because I thought I'd study English, and I thought I'd like that. But later it turned out I preferred science and moved to the polytechnic where I got a degree in civic engineering, a bachelor's and a master's degree. In the meantime I began working at the construction mechanics faculty, I worked there as an assistant for nine years. And later I moved to a design office, where I worked until my retirement.

My daughter Barbara

Our only daughter was born in 1955. Her name is Barbara and she currently lives in the USA. She graduated from a university here, she took biochemistry, and she emigrated in 1981. She couldn't find herself a place for herself here. Besides, all her friends scattered around the world and she couldn't really find herself here. Since I had relatives in America, she decided to go there.

I remember, when she was little, she was a strong Polish patriot; when we started talking about maybe moving to Israel, she was close to committing suicide. It was absolutely unacceptable for her. She went to America with me when she was eleven, and for the first time she heard people talk badly about Poland. Because those were emigrants who escaped after the Kielce Pogrom 20. And she was very upset about it. Once, it so happened, that when they started talking, she ran away from someone's apartment, at night, and I was looking for her all over New York, a strange city. And she opened up a bit after that.

She always knew she was a Jew, we never hid anything from her, but she had little contact with Judaist practices, because we observed no traditions. But all her friends were non-Jewish, so she had a Christmas tree at home, which she never mentioned in the USA in order not to upset her cousin who was very conservative, and practically it was no problem for her. But when she went to the USA for the second time as a 17-year-old girl, she saw what it looked like and later, when she came back, she decided that if she has a family, her children would know something about Judaism. So she really missed it that she had gotten nothing [that is, that as a child she was not taught Jewish traditions].

Now, having two children, whenever she doesn't forget, she burns candles Friday nights, just for the kids. She celebrates some of the holidays, for example Purim. For Pesach she was a couple of times invited over by my pious family, so she knows what it's supposed to look like, and her children know they are Jewish. Her husband is Jewish, but from Belarus. He emigrated a year or two before she did. With his entire family, he has his parents, sister and aunt there. They aren't pious, he didn't really know anything about those things, and she kept teaching him, but until this day he mixes everything up.

Post-war events

Here in Wroclaw since the beginning we've had contact with Jewish circles connected with TSKZ 21. We also used to go to the Jewish theater on Swidnicka Street 22, back when Ida Kaminska 23 used to perform there. The only contact I have with the Jewish community is when I pick up matzah for Pesach. I also have an ID from the Association of the Repressed. And sometimes we went to celebrate the anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising 24, because my husband comes from Warsaw. The group of those who go there keeps getting smaller and smaller.

I never tried to hide the fact that I'm Jewish. All my Polish co-workers always knew. I even taught them the Hebrew alphabet, I don't know if they still remember, but I taught them to sign their names. I couldn't stand to hide it. When during the war I spent a few weeks on the Aryan side, this false situation, when I couldn't say what I wanted, was very hard for me to stand. That's why later I never hid it again.

After the war I encountered anti-Semitism for the first time in 1956 25. I was working at Gazoprojekt, that was a design office, for a few months during that time. Then that thaw began. I overheard accidentally - because I don't think they did it on purpose to upset me - an extremely anti- Semitic conversation about Jews, that the persecutions are good, that maybe they'll finally go to work now, they should do some work, and so on... I was really shocked because I saw nothing of the sort during my studies.

I remember also in 1968 I didn't feel great, and it must have been obvious, because one of the co-workers came up to me, he bumped into me somewhere on the stairwell, patted my shoulder - 'Don't worry about it' - he said - 'First it was the AK 26, now it's the Jews, people have to have something to complain about.' And in 1968 27, because I was never in any party and never had any position, I didn't suffer either. Those who had something to loose, suffered. And I didn't. But I remember that witch-hunt on television and in the newspapers, and the fact that more and more of those few friends that I had suffered in some ways and decided to leave. And the disappointment when we understood that we don't really have much to look for here. Then this other side takes over, because when I'm among Jews from out of Poland, I feel very Polish, but when I'm among Polish non-Jews, I feel very Jewish. And there's nothing I can do about it, and I felt it very strongly during that time. It was a sea of hurt.

We considered emigration to Israel twice. First time in 1956, I was in Israel then, my daughter was still tiny. There was already this wave then and people began to talk about it. It was then when all my friends were leaving, so I went there to look around. And actually, if I had decided to do so then, I still had relatives there who would have helped, but my husband had no relatives and had a job here. He was independent and didn't want to go, start everything from scratch, and depend on someone else. And in 1968, when we considered it for the second time, my daughter didn't want to hear of it.

Martial Law 28, I was very upset about it. Because there was so much hope and openness, that when everything all of a sudden changed for the worse, I thought that it's something that could never go back to normal, that it would never come back. I remember how disappointed I was about 'Polityka' [a weekly magazine on social and political issues], because we used to read 'Polityka' earlier. And then it wasn't published for some time, and later there was some purge and a few authors that I used to enjoy reading disappeared from 'Polityka.' And then I realized what it means, such a purge.

I remember that 'Polityka' was saving me during that worst witch-hunt, since it was fairly decent. And now, after the change of the system we live, if I were younger, I'd say, better. If I were getting younger, not older. And I think that a lot of those people who complain and say that it's worse now, it's just because they have gotten old.

Today I live from day to day, and we go out less and less with my husband. We keep in touch with our daughter and grandchildren in the USA, and with some of friends from our youth, like for example that friend, Polish - Gabriela, who lives in Zakopane nowadays and she calls sometimes. My granddaughter's middle name is Gabriela in her honor.

A few years ago a publisher associated with the former camp in Bergen- Belsen was interested in my story from the time of the Holocaust, they even interviewed me. But now I could tell my whole life story for the first time, and I'm very happy about it.

My family background
Growing up
School years
During the war
Post-war

1 Partitions of Poland (1772-1795)

Three divisions of the Polish lands, in 1772, 1793 and 1795 by the neighboring powers: Russia, Austria and Prussia. Under the first partition Russia occupied the lands east of the Dzwina, Drua and Dnieper, a total of 92,000 km2 and a population of 1.3 million. Austria took the southern part of the Cracow and Sandomierz provinces, the Oswiecim and Zator principalities, the Ruthenian province (except for the Chelm lands) and part of the Belz province, a total of 83,000 km2 and a population of 2.6 million. Prussia annexed Warmia, the Pomerania, Malbork and Chelmno provinces (except for Gdansk and Torun) and the lands along the Notec river and Goplo lake, altogether 36,000 km2 and 580,000 souls. The second partition was carried out by Prussia and Russia. Prussia occupied the Poznan, Kalisz, Gniezno, Sieradz, Leczyca, Inowroclaw, Brzesc Kujawski and Plock provinces, the Dobrzyn lands, parts of the Rawa and Masovia provinces, and Torun and Gdansk, a total of 58,000 km2 and over a million inhabitants. Russia took the Ukrainian and Belarus lands east of the Druja-Pinsk-Zbrucz line, altogether 280,000 km2 and 3 million inhabitants. Under the third partition Russia obtained the rest of the Lithuanian, Belarus and Ukrainian lands east of the Bug and the Nemirov- Grodno line, a total area of 120,000 km2 and 1.2 million inhabitants. The Prussians took the remainder of Podlasie and Mazovia, Warsaw, and parts of Samogitia and Malopolska, 55,000 km2 and a population of 1 million. Austria annexed Cracow and the part of Malopolska between the Pilica, Vistula and Bug, and part of Podlasie and Masovia, a total surface area of 47,000 km2 and a population of 1.2 million.

2 Stutthof (Pol

Sztutowo): German concentration camp 36 km east of Gdansk. The Germans also created a series of satellite camps in the vicinity: Stolp, Heiligenbeil, Gerdauen, Jesau, Schippenbeil, Seerappen, Praust, Burggraben, Thorn and Elbing. The Stutthof camp operated from 2nd September 1939 until 9th May 1945. The first group of prisoners (several hundred people) were Jews from Gdansk. Until 1943 small groups of Jews from Warsaw, Bialystok and other places were sent there. In early 1944 some 20,000 Auschwitz survivors were relocated to Stutthof. In spring 1944 the camp was extended significantly and was made into a death camp; subsequent transports comprised groups of Jews from Latvia, Lithuania, Hungary and Lodz in Poland. Towards the end of 1944 around 12,000 prisoners were taken from Stutthof to camps in Germany - Dachau, Buchenwald, Neuengamme and Flossenburg. In January 1945 the evacuation of Stutthof and its satellite camps began. In that period some 29,000 prisoners passed through the camp (including 26,000 women), 26,000 of whom died during the evacuation. Of the 52,000 or so people who were taken to Stutthof and its satellites, around 3,000 survived.

3 German Invasion of Poland

The German attack of Poland on 1st September 1939 is widely considered the date in the West for the start of World War II. After having gained both Austria and the Bohemian and Moravian parts of Czechoslovakia, Hitler was confident that he could acquire Poland without having to fight Britain and France. (To eliminate the possibility of the Soviet Union fighting if Poland were attacked, Hitler made a pact with the Soviet Union, the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.) On the morning of 1st September 1939, German troops entered Poland. The German air attack hit so quickly that most of Poland's air force was destroyed while still on the ground. To hinder Polish mobilization, the Germans bombed bridges and roads. Groups of marching soldiers were machine-gunned from the air, and they also aimed at civilians. On 1st September, the beginning of the attack, Great Britain and France sent Hitler an ultimatum - withdraw German forces from Poland or Great Britain and France would go to war against Germany. On 3rd September, with Germany's forces penetrating deeper into Poland, Great Britain and France both declared war on Germany.

4 Hasid

5 Anti-Semitism in Poland in the 1930s

6 Karlsbad (Czech name

Karlovy Vary): The most famous Bohemian spa, named after Bohemian King Charles (Karel) IV, who allegedly found the springs during a hunting expedition in 1358. It was one of the most popular resorts among the royalty and aristocracy in Europe for centuries.

7 Beit Yaakov (Hebrew

House of Jacob, Yiddish: Bajs Jakow): a school organization for religious education of Jewish girls. The first school of this type was founded in 1917 in Cracow by Sara Szenirer. The idea of creating female religious schools was supported by orthodox activists of the Agudat Israel party; a network of schools was started. In the 1930s over 110 Beit Yaakov institutions with almost 31,000 students were operating in Poland. A seminar for teachers started operating in Cracow in 1927, and a business high school in Warsaw in 1935. The institution also used to publish its own magazine, 'Bajs Jakov.' The program of Baj Yakov schools included learning the basics of the Hebrew language, general information on the Pentateuch, the learning of psalms and prayers meant for women, lectures on liturgy, holidays, rules of Jewish ethics. With time lay subjects (Polish language, Polish literature and history, geography) were also added to the schools' program, thanks to which they attained the status of public schools.

8 Tarnow Ghetto

The population of Tarnow was 52,000 in 1939, out of which 48 percent were Jews. In March 1941 they were forced to move into a designated area, which was turned into a ghetto in February 1942. Later Jews were also brought in from the surrounding towns and villages, as well as from the Czech lands and Germany; altogether some 40,000 people were deported there. From the summer of 1942 until September 1943 there were continuous deportations to the death camp in Belzec. In September 1943 the ghetto was liquidated; 2,000 people were sent to the camp in Plaszow, and 8,000 to Auschwitz. A few hundred workers employed in the town managed to survive there until 1944.

9 Hitler's rise to power

10 Eviction of Polish Jews from Germany

From October 1938 until the spring of 1939 there was a camp in Zbaszyn for Polish Jews resettled from the Third Reich. The German government, anticipating the act passed by the Polish Sejm (Parliament) depriving people who had been out of the country for more than five years of their citizenship, deported over 20,000 Polish Jews, some 6,000 of whom were sent to Zbaszyn. As the Polish border police did not want to let them into Poland, these people were trapped in the strip of no-man's land, without shelter, water or food. After a few days they were resettled to a temporary camp on the Polish side, where they spent several months. Jewish communities in Poland organized aid for the victims; families took in relatives, and Joint also provided assistance.

11 Anschluss

The German term "Anschluss" (literally: connection) refers to the inclusion of Austria in a "Greater Germany" in 1938. In February 1938, Austrian Chancellor Schuschnigg had been invited to visit Hitler at his mountain retreat at Berchtesgaden. A two-hour tirade against Schuschnigg and his government followed, ending with an ultimatum, which Schuschnigg signed. On his return to Vienna, Schuschnigg proved both courageous and foolhardy. He decided to reaffirm Austria's independence, and scheduled a plebiscite for Sunday, 13th March, to determine whether Austrians wanted a "free, independent, social, Christian and united Austria." Hitler' protégé, Seyss-Inquart, presented Schuschnigg with another ultimatum: Postpone the plebiscite or face a German invasion. On 11th March Schuschnigg gave in and canceled the plebiscite. On 12th March 1938 Hitler announced the annexation of Austria. When German troops crossed into Austria, they were welcomed with flowers and Nazi flags. Hitler arrived later that day to a rapturous reception in his hometown of Linz. Less well disposed Austrians soon learned what the "Anschluss" held in store for them. Known Socialists and Communists were stripped to the waist and flogged. Jews were forced to scrub streets and public latrines. Schuschnigg ended up in a concentration camp and was only freed in 1945 by American troops.

12 Jewish police

Carrying out their will the German authorities appointed a Jewish police in the ghettos. Besides maintaining order in general in the territory of the ghetto the Jewish police was also responsible for guarding the ghetto gates. During liquidation campaigns most of them collaborated with the Nazis; in the Warsaw ghetto each policeman had to supply at least five people to the Umschlagplatz every day. The reason for joining the Jewish police, first of all, was based on the false promises of the Germans that policemen and their families would be saved. In the Warsaw ghetto the Jewish police was headed by Jakub Szerynski; during the 'Grossaktion' (the main liquidation campaign in the summer of 1942), the Jewish Fighting Organization issued a death warrant on him, and he was to be executed on 20th August 1942 by Izrael Kanal. The attack failed, Szerynski was only wounded, and in January 1943 he committed suicide.

13 Placowka

Lit. 'station' (Polish), the place of work of Jews employed outside the ghetto. Jewish workers used to work for example on the railroad, in private German companies, in businesses and institutions, SS, police and Wehrmacht, and also in city administration. Jewish workers lived in the ghetto and every day were leaving for many hours to work outside the ghetto. They were paid for their work with a modest meal, sometimes a small amount of money. 'Placowki' existed since the beginning of the occupation; their number grew in the spring of 1942. During liquidation actions in the ghettos their employees were often protected, at least for some time, from deportation to a death camp.

14 Armbands

From the beginning of the occupation, the German authorities issued all kinds of decrees discriminating against the civilian population, in particular the Jews. On 1st December 1939 the Germans ordered all Jews over the age of 12 to wear a distinguishing emblem. In Warsaw it was a white armband with a blue star of David, to be worn on the right sleeve of the outer garment. In some towns Jews were forced to sew yellow stars onto their clothes. Not wearing the armband was punishable - initially with a beating, later with a fine or imprisonment, and from 15th October 1941 with the death penalty (decree issued by Governor Hans Frank).

15 Kenkarta

16 Belzec

Village in Lublin region of Poland (Tomaszow district). In 1940 the Germans created a forced labor camp there for 2,500 Jews and Roma. In November 1941 it was transformed into an extermination camp (SS Sonderkommando Belzec or Dienststelle Belzec der Waffen SS) under the 'Reinhard-Aktion,' in which the Germans murdered around 600,000 people (chiefly in gas chambers), including approximately 550,000 Polish Jews (approx. 300,000 from the province of Galicia) and Jews from the USSR, Austria, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Denmark, Holland, Germany, Norway and Hungary; many Poles from surrounding towns and villages and from Lwow also died here, mostly for helping Jews. In November 1942 the Nazis began liquidating the camp. In the spring of 1943 the camp was demolished and the corpses of the gassed victims exhumed from their mass graves and burned. The last 600 Jews employed in this work were then sent to the Sobibor camp, where they died in the gas chambers.

17 Plaszow Camp

Located near Cracow, it was originally a forced labor camp and subsequently became a concentration camp. The construction of the camp began in summer 1940. In 1941 the camp was extended and the first Jews were deported there. The site chosen comprised two Jewish cemeteries. There were about 2,000 prisoners there before the liquidation of the Podgorze (Cracow) ghetto on 13th and 14th March 1943 and the transportation of the remaining Jews to Plaszow camp. Afterwards, the camp population rose to 8,000. By the second half of 1943 its population had risen to 12,000, and by May-June 1944 the number of permanent prisoners had increased to 24,000 (with an unknown number of temporary prisoners), including 6,000-8,000 Jews from Hungary. Until the middle of 1943 all the prisoners in the Plaszow forced labor camp were Jews. In July 1943, a separate section was fenced off for Polish prisoners who were sent to the camp for breaking the laws of the German occupational government. The conditions of life in the camp were made unbearable by the SS commander Amon Goeth, who became the commandant of Plaszow in February 1943. He held the position until September 1944 when he was arrested by the SS for stealing from the camp warehouses. As the Russian forces advanced further and further westward, the Germans began the systematic evacuation of the slave labor camps in their path. From the camp in Plaszow, many hundreds were sent to Auschwitz, others westward to Mauthausen and Flossenburg. On 18th January 1945 the camp was evacuated in the form of death marches, during which thousands of prisoners died from starvation or disease, or were shot if they were too weak to walk. The last prisoners were transferred to Germany on 16th January 1945. More than 150,000 civilians were held prisoner in Plaszow.

18 Birkenau (Pol

: Brzezinka): Also known as Auschwitz II. Set up in October 1941 following a decision by Heinrich Himmler in the village of Brzezinka (Ger.: Birkenau) close to Auschwitz, as a prisoner-of-war camp. It retained this title until March 1944, although it was never used as a POW camp. It comprised sectors of wooden sheds for different types of prisoners (women, men, Jewish families from Terezin, Roma, etc.), and continued to be expanded until the end of 1943. From the beginning of 1942 it was an extermination camp. The Birkenau camp covered a total area of 140 ha and comprised some 300 sheds variously used as living quarters, ancillary quarters and crematoria. Birkenau, Auschwitz I and scores of satellite camps made up the largest center for extermination of the Jews. The majority of the Jews deported here were sent straight to the gas chambers to be put to death immediately, without registration. There were 400,000 prisoners registered there for longer periods, half of whom were Jews. The second-largest group of prisoners were Poles (140,000). Prisoners died en mass as a result of slave labor, starvation, the inhuman living conditions, beatings, torture and executions. The bodies of those murdered were initially buried and later burned in the crematoria and on pyres in specially dug pits. Due to the efforts made by the SS to erase the evidence of their crimes and their destruction of the majority of the documentation on the prisoners, and also to the fact that the Soviet forces seized the remaining documentation, it is impossible to establish the exact number of victims of Auschwitz-Birkenau. On the basis of the fragmentary documentation available, it can be assumed that in total approx. 1.5 million prisoners were murdered in Auschwitz-Birkenau, some 90% of who were Jews.

19 Bergen-Belsen

Concentration camp located in northern Germany. Bergen- Belsen was established in April 1943 as a detention camp for prisoners who were to be exchanged with Germans imprisoned in Allied countries. Bergen- Belsen was liberated by the British army on 15th April, 1945. The soldiers were shocked at what they found, including 60,000 prisoners in the camp, many on the brink of death, and thousands of unburied bodies lying about. (Source: Rozett R. - Spector S.: Encyclopedia of the Holocaust, Facts on File, G.G. The Jerusalem Publishing House Ltd. 2000, pg. 139 -141)

20 Kielce Pogrom

21 Social and Cultural Society of Polish Jews (TSKZ)

22 Ester Rachel Kaminska Public Jewish Theater

Created in 1950 through the merging of the Jewish Theater from Lodz and the Lower Silesian Jewish Theater from Wroclaw. The seat of the management of the theater was first located in Wroclaw and then moved to Lodz. Ida Kaminska, Ester Rachel Kaminska's daughter, exceptional actress and the only female director in Jewish interwar theater, was the artistic director from 1955. The literary director of the theater was Dawid Sfard. In 1955 the seat of the theater was moved to Warsaw. Ida Kaminski was the director of the theater until 1968 when, due to increasing anti-Semitic policies of the government, she left for Vienna (from Vienna she went to Tel Aviv and later to New York). Most of the best actors left with her. After Kaminska's departure, the theater was directed by Juliusz Berger and, since 1969, by Szymon Szurmiej. The theater performed its plays all over the country and, since 1956, also abroad. The theater still stages plays by Jewish writers (for example Sholem Aleichem, An-ski). It is the only public theater, which puts on performances in Yiddish.

23 Kaminska, Ida (1899-1980)

Jewish actress and theater director. She made her debut in 1916 on the stage of the Warsaw theater founded by her parents. From 1921-28 she and her husband, Martin Sigmund Turkow, were the directors of the Varshaver Yidisher Kunsteater. From 1933 to 1939 she ran her own theater group in Warsaw. During World War II she was in Lvov, and was evacuated to Kyrgizia (Frunze). On her return to Poland in 1947 she became director of the Jewish theaters in Lodz, Wroclaw and Warsaw (1955-68 the E.R. Kaminska Theater). In 1967 she traveled to the US with her theater and was very successful there. Following the events of March 1968 she resigned from her post as theater director and immigrated to the US, where she lived until her death. Her best known roles include the leading roles in Mirele Efros (Gordin), Hedda Gabler (Ibsen) and Mother Courage and Her Children (Brecht), and her role in the film The Shop on Main Street (Kadár and Klos, 1965). Ida Kaminska also wrote her memoirs, entitled My Life, My Theatre (1973).

24 Warsaw Ghetto Uprising (or April Uprising)

On 19th April 1943 the Germans undertook their third deportation campaign to transport the last inhabitants of the ghetto, approximately 60,000 people, to labor camps. An armed resistance broke out in the ghetto, led by the Jewish Fighting Organization (ZOB) and the Jewish Military Union (ZZW) - all in all several hundred armed fighters. The Germans attacked with 2,000 men, tanks and artillery. The insurrectionists were on the attack for the first few days, and subsequently carried out their defense from bunkers and ruins, supported by the civilian population of the ghetto, who contributed with passive resistance. The Germans razed the Warsaw ghetto to the ground on 15th May 1943. Around 13,000 Jews perished in the Uprising, and around 50,000 were deported to Treblinka extermination camp. About 100 of the resistance fighters managed to escape from the ghetto via the sewers.

25 Polish October 1956

The culmination of the political, social and economic transformations that brought about the collapse of the dictatorial regime after the death of Stalin (1953). From 1954 the political system in Poland gradually thawed (censorship was scaled down, for instance, and political prisoners were slowly released - in April and May 1956 some 35,000 people were let out of prison). But the economic situation was deteriorating and the social and political crisis mounting. On 28th June a strike and demonstration on the streets of Poznan escalated into an armed revolt, which was suppressed by police and army units. From 19th to 21st October 1956 a political breakthrough occurred, the 8th Plenum of the PZPR Central Committee met under social pressure (rallies in factories and universities), and there was the threat of intervention by Soviet troops. Gomulka was appointed First Secretary of the PZPR Central Committee, and won the support of many groups, including a rally numbering hundreds of thousands of people in Warsaw on 24th October. From 15th to 18th November the terms on which Soviet troops were stationed in Poland were agreed, a proportion of Poland's debt was annulled, the resettlement of Poles back from the USSR was resumed, and by the end of 1956 a large number of people found guilty in political trials were rehabilitated. There were changes at the top in the Polish Army: Marshal Rokossowski and the Soviet generals went back to the USSR, and changes also to the civilian authorities and the programs of political factions. In November 1956 permission was granted for the creation of workers' councils in state enterprises, and the management of the economy was improved somewhat. In subsequent months, however, the process of partial democratization was halted, and supporters of continuing change ('revisionists') were censured.

26 Home Army (Armia Krajowa - AK)

Conspiratorial military organization, part of the Polish armed forces operating within Polish territory (within pre-1st September 1939 borders) during World War II. Created on 14th February 1942, subordinate to the Supreme Commander and the Polish Government in Exile. Its mission was to regain Poland's sovereignty through armed combat and inciting to a national uprising. In 1943 the AK had over 300,000 members. AK units organized diversion, sabotage, revenge and partisan campaigns. Its military intelligence was highly successful. On 19th January 1945 the AK was disbanded on the order of its commander, but some of its members continued their independence activities throughout 1945- 47. In 1944-45 tens of thousands of AK soldiers were exiled and interned in the USSR, in places such as Ryazan, Borovichi and Ostashkov. Soldiers of the AK continued to suffer repression in Poland until 1956; many were sentenced to death or long-term imprisonment on trumped-up charges. Right after the war, official propaganda accused the Home Army of murdering Jews who were hiding in the forests. There is no doubt that certain AK units as well as some individuals tied to AK were in fact guilty of such acts. The scale of this phenomenon is very difficult to determine, and has been the object of debates among historians.

27 Gomulka Campaign

A campaign to sack Jews employed in the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the army and the central administration. The trigger of this anti-Semitic campaign was the involvement of the Socialist Bloc countries on the Arab side in the Middle East conflict, in connection with which Moscow ordered purges in state institutions. On 19th June 1967, at a trade union congress, the then First Secretary of the Polish United Workers' Party [PZPR], Wladyslaw Gomulka, accused the Jews of lack of loyalty to the state and of publicly demonstrating their enthusiasm for Israel's victory in the Six-Day-War. This marked the start of purges among journalists and people of other creative professions. Poland also severed diplomatic relations with Israel. On 8th March 1968 there was a protest at Warsaw University. The Ministry of Internal Affairs responded by launching a press campaign and organizing mass demonstrations in factories and workplaces during which 'Zionists' and 'trouble-makers' were indicted and anti-Semitic and anti-intelligentsia slogans shouted. Following the events of March, purges were also staged in all state institutions, from factories to universities, on criteria of nationality and race. 'Family liability' was also introduced (e.g. with respect to people whose spouses were Jewish). Jews were forced to emigrate. From 1968-1971 15,000-30,000 people left Poland. They were stripped of their citizenship and right of return.

28 Martial law in Poland in 1981

Extraordinary legal measures introduced by a State Council decree on 13th December 1981 in an attempt to defend the communist system and destroy the democratic opposition. The martial law decree suspended the activity of associations and trades unions, including Solidarity, introduced a curfew, imposed travel restrictions, gave the authorities the right to arrest opposition activists, search private premises, and conduct body searches, ban public gatherings. A special, non- constitutional state authority body was established, the Military Board of National Salvation (WRON), which oversaw the implementation of the martial law regulations, headed by General Wojciech Jaruzelski, the armed forces supreme commander. Over 5,900 persons were arrested during the martial law, chiefly Solidarity activists. Local Solidarity branches organized protest strikes. The Wujek coal mine, occupied by striking miners, was stormed by police assault squads, leading to the death of nine miners. The martial law regulations were gradually being eased, by December 1982, for instance, all interned opposition activists were released. On 31st December 1982, the martial law was suspended, and on 21st July 1983, it was revoked.

Larisa Gorelova

Larisa Gorelova with her husband, Grigory Gorelov

City: St. Petersburg
Country: Russia
Interviewer: Alexandra Ulman
Date of interview: November 2002

In front of me is a woman with lively dark eyes; she is not very tall.

Even after retirement she continues to lead an active life: she often goes to the theater, to classical concerts at the Philharmonic and to art exhibitions.

Almost every minute of her life is scheduled, so it wasn't easy to make an appointment with her.

A very important part in Larisa Borisovna's reminiscences is occupied by the analysis of her father's fate, who spent most of his life in prison; she has a great desire to tell his story rather than her own, as she thinks, she's led a rather common life.

My family background
My parents
Growing up in wartime
Post-war
Glossary

My family background

My name is Larisa Borisovna Gorelova. I was born in 1927 in Leningrad [today St. Petersburg]. My father's parents lived in Minsk, in Belarus. I lived in that town since my birth and until the Great Patriotic War 1. Prewar Minsk was a large city and the capital of the Belarusian Soviet Socialist Republic, a cultural and industrial center. The Belarusian Academy of Sciences and the Minsk State University were located in Minsk. Broad, spacious avenues in the center of the city were built up with new modern buildings, though there were wooden buildings on the outskirts of the city. During the Great Patriotic War Minsk was almost totally destroyed and after the war it was, one might say, constructed anew. I saw it when I visited the town on a business-trip many years later.

My paternal grandfather, Leib Oliker, was a tinsmith. He died when my father was six months old, in 1901. That's all I know about my paternal grandfather. My paternal grandmother, whose name I don't remember, had to raise three small children; she was hired by people to do hard work: she did the washing and cleaned their apartments. She did all she could do alone to raise her children: her elder son, whose name I can't remember, Peisakh-Elya and Ber, my father. Grandmother's elder son volunteered for the Red Army during the Civil War 2 and perished as a hero, defending Minsk. Her second son, Peisakh-Elya, was arrested in April 1920 by the Belopolsk gendarmerie and exiled to a Gulag camp 3. Upon his return he lived with his mother in Minsk. He must have perished in a ghetto during the Great Patriotic War. My father, Ber Leibovich Oliker, was the youngest, the third son of Grandmother and Grandfather Oliker. I know nothing else about my paternal grandparents, since I communicated very little with my father - he spent many years in the camps and later left my mother, besides, it wasn't our custom to ask about the past.

During the Civil War [1918-1920] Grandmother assisted the underground Komsomol 4 organization, of which her sons were members. I know that she kept and delivered prohibited literature and organized meetings for underground organization members in her apartment. Owing to that in the 1930s she obtained a personal pension upon the solicitation of the Central Komsomol Committee of Belarus. Grandmother was religious only until the Soviet Power came into force in 1917. She died in a ghetto in Belarus during the Great Patriotic War, but our family doesn't know the exact date.

My mother's father, Alter-Girsh Bunin, was born in 1876 in the town of Slutsk, which is located 100 kilometers to the south of Minsk in Belarus, in the Jewish pale 5 and studied in cheder. He wasn't an Orthodox Jew, didn't observe Sabbath, only celebrated Jewish holidays such as Chanukkah, Rosh Hashanah and Pesach, for which national meals were cooked at home. After Grandmother's death in 1931 the family forgot all Jewish holidays and celebrated only secular holidays, as all Soviet people did. Grandfather dressed as the petty bourgeoisie did, who his family belonged to: he wore a jacket and shirts with ties. He always had a small full beard. Grandfather was a very fair, kind and diligent man with a sense of self-esteem. Even neighbors came to him to settle some disputes of theirs.

My grandmother, Gita Bunina [nee Shapiro] was born in 1878 in Storobino in Belarus. She finished cheder 6, as a grown-up girl of 15 years of age, but later, by the 1900s she was already a mother of a big family and a housewife. She was a very merry and kind woman. She welcomed all distant and close relatives in her home. Her home was very hospitable, relatives came, friends visited, all of Grandmother's sisters, cousins, nephews came to stay, friends of her adolescent daughters came; guests were always seated at the table, even if they were unexpected, and were treated to the best food. The daughters' friends came, sang songs, danced, recited poems.

On big Jewish holidays, like Rosh Hashanah, Pesach and Purim Grandmother collected various delicious things at home and took them to poor families in Slutsk. She was a very beautiful, kind, loving and faithful mother and wife. She dressed like the petty bourgeoisie, not like Jews: she put on dresses, blouses and skirts. Grandmother didn't wear a wig, she had long hair and she braided it into a beautiful braid and placed it on the back of her head. She died in 1931 in Minsk during an operation on her kidneys at a rather young age - she was 53. She was buried in Minsk at the Jewish cemetery. When the Fascists occupied Minsk, her grave was destroyed, so she has been commemorated at Grandfather's, her husband's, grave, who died in 1949 in Leningrad. When Mother's sisters, Grandfather's daughters, put up a monument on his grave at the Jewish Preobrazhensky cemetery, Grandmother's name was included on the gravestone near Grandfather's.

The first child of my maternal grandparents was a boy, but he died in infancy. After that Grandmother gave birth to eight girls: Liber-Esther, Lyubov in her passport 7; Beilya, Berta in everyday life - my mother; Maria; Hanna, Anna in everyday life; Reizl, Rosa in everyday life; Matlya, Matilda in everyday life; Eshka, Esphir in everyday life; and Pasha, who was born 21 years after the first daughter was born. As they grew up, the Bunin sisters became assistants to their parents on the land and at home. They strove for education and read a lot at that time already; they learnt poems by heart and helped each other. The girls were accustomed to labor since their childhood; they got up early in the morning and went to work in the field. They almost had no toys, toys were considered luxury. Dresses and coats were bought cheap and durable, so that they would be worn by the younger daughters. Only Grandfather had a separate bed, all his daughters slept in twos and Grandmother slept with the youngest daughter. Various artistic troupes came to Slutsk from different towns, but the family very seldom went to the circus and theater, they were always busy with the household.

Grandfather Alter had a house, an old wooden one, rather stocky, but a house of his own. When he married my grandmother, he rented some land and was engaged in vegetable growing. They had, though not always, a horse, a cow and geese. In 1912 he bought out the land, about two hectares and continued to do vegetable gardening together with his daughters. All their family worked on the land and an average income was ensured. Their own land gave them food and saved them from starvation. They didn't have food in abundance, but they had enough: the staple food was bread, potatoes, vegetables, curdled milk, a piece of meat. They also had butter, eggs, chicken, white bread and sausage for holidays.

My grandparents' family belonged to the class of the petty bourgeoisie. Their family had no money, only debts. But the neighbors for some reason despised my grandparents, believing them to be rich. They didn't let them live quietly and composed denunciations against them. As a result Grandfather was expelled from the kolkhoz 8 and he kept his own household: cattle, geese, chicken and a vegetable garden. Since he was deprived of his right to vote, one of his daughters was expelled from the Party, of which she was a devoted member, and another one was expelled from university.

Grandfather was the favorite of the whole family and of his eight daughters; he spent a lot of strength and energy on their education. Berta, my mother, was the first to enter a gymnasium [high school]. Grandfather didn't agree to it at first, he thought that there wasn't enough funds for the education of all his daughters, and that it was unfair to give education only to one. However, Grandmother insisted and all their daughters obtained education at a gymnasium and at schools after the Revolution 9; later all obtained university education. Grandfather understood the benefit of education and was pleased with his daughters' success at gymnasium and when they graduated from university.

During the Soviet time, in 1929, Grandfather was dispossessed as a kulak 10 He worked in a kolkhoz and was dismissed from it as a kulak. After his wife died in 1931, he moved to his daughter Maria in Minsk, he stayed in evacuation in Kyrgyzstan with her and moved to Leningrad later. He died in 1949 and was buried at the Jewish Preobrazhensky cemetery in Leningrad, the memory of him is the most respectful and blessed.

My grandparents' elder daughter, Liber-Esther, Lyubov by passport, was born in 1900. When she grew up, she left for Warsaw [today Poland], where she nursed one of her aunt's children, I don't know exactly which aunt's. Then she came back and studied at the History Faculty of the Belarusian University and graduated from it in 1929. She married Georgy Zaitsev, a Jew, born in 1902. He studied at the Belarusian University and, as an undergraduate, was sent to the Institute of Red Professorate in Moscow to study at the Faculty of Economics and graduated from it in 1931. Lyubov went to Moscow together with him.

After graduation Georgy was assigned to party work in the Caucasus. At first he was a political department head, then he was transferred to the position of First Secretary at the district committee of the Communist Party in a small town. In 1937 he was arrested and in 1938 executed by shooting 11. At that time arrests of people, who held high party positions, were very frequent. Usually they were groundlessly accused of anti-Soviet activity. In 1937 Lyubov was also arrested; she worked as a teacher of Russian at that time. They had two sons, born in 1929 and 1934. When she was being driven in the mountains in an open truck to the prison, she managed to tear off a piece of her shirt and write a note, asking to help her children. That note fell into good hands and was sent to the right address in the town, where they lived. Kind people took her children to her sisters in Leningrad. She was in prison until 1939, but the court wasn't able to accuse her of anything, so she was released as there had been no crime committed.

She took her children from Leningrad and remained in the Caucasus before the war. When the war broke out and the Germans approached the Caucasus, she tried to get to the railroad on some cart, in order to get to Russia. The husband of one of her sisters, Boris, helped her. He brought her to the train and sent her to evacuation to Kyrgyzstan, where all our family lived already. After the war Lyubov worked as a teacher of Russian. She died in 1965. She was buried at the Jewish cemetery.

The elder son of Lyubov and Georgy Zaitsev, Vitaly, lived with his mother in the Caucasus. He entered the Ulyanov-Lenin 12 Electrical Engineering Institute in Leningrad, graduated from it and worked as an engineer for many years. Now he is retired. He met his wife-to-be, Maya Shapiro, a Jewess, in a line for tickets to the Philharmonic society in Leningrad. They have two children: son Sergey, who lives at present in the USA and daughter Galina, who lives in Petersburg.

The name of Lyubov and Georgy Zaitsev younger son is Sigrid. When his parents were repressed in the Caucasus, Lyubov's sister, Rosa, took him in and brought him to Kyrgyzstan, where she was assigned to work 13 after graduation from the First Medical Institute. He lived there with Rosa and her husband until his mother Lyubov was released from prison. Later he returned to the Caucasus with his mother and stayed with her during evacuation. He graduated from the Leningrad Electrical Engineering Institute. At present he lives in Moscow with his second wife. He has four sons, two from his first marriage and two from his second marriage. He still works at the All-Union Scientific Research Institute of Mechanics and Electrical Engineering as an engineer.

The second daughter was my mother, Beilya Bunina. The third daughter of my grandparents, Maria, born in 1905, entered the Law Faculty of the Belarusian University after the gymnasium and worked as a lawyer in Minsk before the Great Patriotic War. Later she was in evacuation in Kyrgyzstan. After the war she worked as a legal consultant in Glavleningradstroy, General Municipal Construction Administration, until her retirement. Maya [Maria] died in 1980 and was buried at the Jewish cemetery [in Leningrad]. Her husband, Meyer Bogin, a Jew, worked as an engineer and was repressed in 1937: he was accused of 'anti-Soviet activity,' as was the custom in those days, and executed by shooting in 1938. Their son, Artyom, born in 1932, an engineer, worked in Giprocement, the Scientific Research Institute of Cement Industry. He died in 1993 and was buried near his mother at the Jewish cemetery. Artyom had two children: Victor, a Mining Institute graduate and Tatiana, a Librarian Institute graduate.

The fourth daughter of my grandparents, Hanna, was born in 1907. She finished school and later the Faculty of Biology of the Minsk University in 1930. In the same year she married Solomon Kaplan, who graduated from the Leningrad Polytechnic Institute. He worked as an engineer all his life at various civil plants. He stayed in Leningrad during the blockade 14 and survived. He died in 1984 and was buried in Leningrad at the Jewish cemetery. They had two children. Galina was a German language interpreter, who also knew several other languages; she is now retired. Their son Ilya was born in 1945 after the war. He still works at the plant formerly named after Sverdlov. His wife Natalia is an engineer. They have two daughters, both graduated from the Polytechnic Institute and both married their fellow- students and both live in the USA. Both have children. Hanna worked as a librarian; she died in 2000 in St. Petersburg. She was buried at the Jewish cemetery.

The fifth daughter of my grandparents, Reizl, born in 1909, was the most beautiful in the family. She united all sisters around herself. After finishing school she graduated from the Medical Institute. She got married while at university. Her husband, David, perished during the siege of Leningrad. After graduation from the institute she was assigned to Kyrgyzstan, got married for the second time, to Nikolai Amurov. All family got together at their place during the Great Patriotic War. After the war Reizl worked as a doctor at the Railroad hospital, divorced Amurov and got married for the third time, to Boris Bely, also a doctor, but a veterinarian, with whom she lived for 25 years. He also survived the war; it caught him in Tallinn, in Estonia. He left for Russia on a ship and finished the war in Germany. Bely died in 1971. They had no children, and Reizl was a patroness of all her nephews and nieces. There were twelve of us. She died in 1989 in Leningrad and was buried at the Jewish cemetery.

The sixth daughter of my grandparents, Matlya, was born in 1912. After school she studied at the Librarian Institute, completed three years and quit the institute because of an illness. She worked as an elementary school teacher and a librarian. She married Boris Epstein, a Jew, a communication engineer. Boris was a Soviet Army officer, a communication engineer, during the Great Patriotic War and stayed in Leningrad during the siege, but left for business: he laid the line along Ladoga Lake, where the Life Road 15 lay; he also laid the communication line under Volga during the Stalingrad battle 16, and he finished the war in Germany. After the war he worked for a long time at the Scientific Research Institute of Communication. He made a lot of inventions and managed the development of communication equipment. He died in 2002 at the age of 90. Matilda died in 1987 and was buried at the Jewish cemetery in Leningrad. Their son, Yevgeny, born in 1935, works as a chief engineer at the river register for the North-Western Shipping Company. His daughter Yelena, an economist, works at the Navy Administration as an accountant.

The seventh daughter of my grandparents, Eshka, was born in 1915. She went to school after the Revolution of 1917, studied at a Jewish school and lived in Slutsk. After finishing school, she left for Leningrad, entered the Leningrad Institute of Fine Mechanics and Optics and graduated from it in 1938. She didn't manage to defend her diploma, as she was assigned to work in Kazan, when the Great Patriotic War broke out. After the war she returned to Leningrad and defended her diploma in 1945. She worked as a teacher in navy schools at the places of her husband's work; she taught engineering sciences. She worked at the Anti-aircraft school, the Navy school in Kronstadt [Kronstadt is a town on Kotlin island in the Finnish gulf, 10 km from the western coastal line of Leningrad] until her retirement age.

Her husband, Naum Fruman, born in 1915, was her fellow-student, but as an undergraduate, he was taken to the Navy Academy, from where he graduated as a navy officer in the field of shooting directing equipment. Right after graduation from the academy he was assigned to work in Tallinn. When the Great Patriotic War broke out, they managed to leave Estonia for Kronstadt with the last ship. Their ship was bombed en route and they were picked up by a Soviet ship which headed for the island. Thus they reached Kronstadt. After that Naum worked at the Artillery Administration during the war and was transferred after the war to Kronstadt as a chief engineer for the Repair plant, where he worked until the Doctors' Plot 17 started in 1953. In 1953 he was slandered in connection with the Doctors' Plot, demobilized and fired from the Kronstadt plant. He came to Leningrad and couldn't find a job for a rather long time. His classmates helped him find a position as principal designer in the 'Azimuth' company. He died in 1999.

Eshka and Naum's elder daughter, Galina, was born in 1939. She graduated from university and worked all her life as an engineer in the 'Azimuth' company. Her husband Roman Karpelson stayed in Leningrad with his parents during the war. His parents died during the siege and he was raised in a children's home. Roman graduated from the Mining Institute and worked as a geologist for a long time. They have two children. Their elder son Vadim is an engineer, he lives in Israel now. Their younger son Alexander graduated from university and is now the 'Kodak' company manager in St. Petersburg; he deals with photo and other type of printing. Eshka's son Leonid, born in 1948, graduated from the Bonch-Bruevich Electrical Engineering Institute and worked as an engineer in Petersburg. Now he lives in Boston in the USA. Eshka lives in St. Petersburg, she is 87 years old.

The youngest, eighth daughter of my grandparents, Pasha, was born in 1921. Her mother died, when Pasha was ten years old. Since then she lived with her elder sisters, who considered her their daughter. At first she lived with Berta, my mother, in Minsk and went to school there. Later, when she was a 7th grade pupil, she left for Leningrad, to her sisters' place, where she finished school and entered the Medical Institute. She managed to finish three years before the Great Patriotic War. In evacuation in Kyrgyzstan she finished the Kyrgyz Medical Institute at the end of the war and managed to serve in the army in Ukraine. During the war she married Yakov Umansky, who was killed at the frontline in 1944.

After the war she lived with her sister Berta in Brest where she married Ikheil Manevich, born in 1917. He graduated from the Medical Institute before the war and found himself at the frontline right after. He was a medical officer during the war and finished the war in Berlin. After the war, in 1947 he came to Brest, met Pasha, married her and they both left for Germany. In 1948 their elder son Gennady was born, who graduated from the Pulp and Paper Industry Institute in Leningrad and worked as an engineer in the field of pulp and paper combine construction. At present he lives in Germany. Their daughter, Faina, was born in 1952. She married Ilya Vikstein, who passed away in 1978. Faina and Gennady left for Germany at the beginning of the 1990s with their children, where Faina died in 1993. Pasha worked as a pediatrician for many years and died in 1997.

My parents

My mother, Beilya [Berta] Bunina, was born in 1902 in the town of Slutsk in Belarus. She was the second daughter in the family and helped her parents with the household and in the vegetable garden. She was Grandmother's right hand and helped to look after the younger children. She read a lot and was well-educated. She was the first to pave the way to education before the Revolution, as she decided to study in a gymnasium, not in cheder. Grandmother, unlike Grandfather, understood the necessity of her daughters' education, supported my mother and Mother finished a gymnasium in Slutsk. After that she moved to Minsk and entered the Minsk Public University, the Faculty of Economics, and graduated in 1925. She married my father, Ber Oliker, who had graduated from the Medical Institute in Minsk and worked as a surgeon. I don't know exactly how my parents met, but I know that they didn't celebrate their wedding, they just registered their marriage; it was a custom to do so in big cities. Mother found a job as an economist-planner at Gosplan [state economic planning institution] of Belarus. In 1927 I was born and in 1935 my brother Ernst was born.

My father, Ber Oliker, was born in 1901 in the town of Rogachev in Belarus. He was the youngest in his family and at the age of 13 became an apprentice at a private tailor shop. Difficult working conditions very soon destroyed his health and he had to leave the shop and become an apprentice at a private textiles store. In 1917, as a 16-year-old young man, he began to participate in the Revolutionary movement in Minsk. In 1918 during the Civil War, when Minsk was occupied by the Germans, he got acquainted with the members of an underground Bolshevik 18 committee. Thus he got to know the Party Charter of the Bolshevik Party and he was explained the objectives and tasks of the Bolshevik Party. Soon he began to receive minor assignments from the underground committee; in particular, he was assigned to conduct the work among the working youth regarding international education in accordance with the Bolshevik Party Charter.

After Minsk was liberated from the German occupation, in December 1918 he was selected to the organizational three 19 according to the convocation of the First Meeting of Working Youth for the purpose of organization and registration of the Komsomol organization in Minsk. He was elected member of the First Committee of the Minsk Komsomol Organization, among others, at the first organizational meeting of the working youth in December 1918. He joined the Red Army forces among one of the first Komsomol members, was enlisted to the Fourth Komsomol Company of the Minsk Guard regiment and fought against the White Guard 20 members to defend our native Minsk.

During the White-Polish occupation 21 of Belarus and Minsk, Father, among other Komsomol members, was left in Minsk to conduct underground work. They assisted the underground Party Committee in setting up the underground Komsomol organization and very often, risking their lives, performed important tasks of the underground Party Committee. The underground Party Committee and the underground Komsomol leaders were arrested by the White- Polish gendarmerie. After the arrest of the first underground Komsomol Committee, Father was elected Chairman of the Minsk underground Komsomol Committee.

At the beginning of April 1920 the White-Polish gendarmerie arrested him and other members of the underground Komsomol Committee. He was interrogated, tortured and tormented in the torture cell. Five of his front teeth were knocked out. As a result of torture he had to undergo two operations later, lost his hearing in his right ear and remained disabled for the rest of his life. He was court-martialed as the leader of the underground Komsomol Committee, and the court was supposed to pass a death sentence, but owing to the violent attack of the Red Army the court didn't manage to complete the trial. Father was awarded the Order of the Labor Red Standard of the Belarusian Soviet Socialist Republic for his active work during the Civil War against the White-Poles. He was the delegate of the III Congress of the Workers' and Peasants' Young League, where Vladimir Ilyich Lenin gave his famous historical speech about the tasks of the Young Communist League. After the Civil War Father finished the workers' faculty 22, after that he graduated from the Medical Institute and he became a surgeon and later the Deputy People's Commissar of Public Health of Belarus.

We had an intellectual Soviet family: my parents had university education and worked in their professional field; Father was a public party activist - unfortunately I was too small at that time to take interest in it, and later my father didn't tell me about it, so I can't give you more details - religion was out of the question 23. We lived in a small apartment in downtown Minsk. Father had a big library: mostly they were medical books, the Communist Party history, Russian classics, but it was all lost in the Great Patriotic War, because we left the city without any of our belongings.

In fall 1935 an exchange of documents was commenced in the Communist Party, connected with the beginning purge. Mass arrests and expulsions from the Party began. The incidence of these arrests couldn't but put Father on his guard, as he recalled that in 1932 Stalin's letter was published in the 'Proletarian Revolution' magazine about the Party's history falsification. In connection with Stalin's letter all historical books about the Party's history, which had been published before, were called into question. There was no literature in Belarus at that time about the history of the Party and Komsomol, there was only one book about the history of the Komsomol, and my father was one of its authors. Father knew that in case of absence of any other literature the book about the history of the Belarusian Komsomol would be the only target and he wasn't mistaken. On 29th April 1936 Father was arrested and forwarded to the Minsk prison. After that, within 15 months the investigation was carried out. As a result, he was dispatched to the Moscow court in Lefortovo [a district of Moscow], where within twelve minutes his sentence was announced to him - ten years of prison plus five years of deprivation of rights. Father expected that he would be sentenced to death and was even glad that he got a different verdict. From that moment years of wandering in prisons and exiles began.

Father's first prison was the Vologda prison. His second halting point was the Solovetsky monastery. Father stayed for two years in Solovetsky monastery without any work, without communication, without walks. He was allowed only to use the prison library. He read mainly medical literature. Once he was very much carried away with the 'History of Surgery' and he crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on his knee. The guard, who watched him through the crack in the door, entered the cell, hit him and sent him to the punishment cell. This continued until 1939.

In June 1939 some doctors, who worked in the sanitary department of the prison, were mobilized and it was decided to replace them with the imprisoned doctors. Thus Father was engaged in medical practice. In fall 1939 all prisoners were removed from the Solovetsky prison. After the Solovetsky islands he spent his camp life in Karelia, in Archangelsk region and Vorkuta region [north of Russia]. During the Great Patriotic War he worked as a doctor in the town of Medvezhegorsk, constantly asking to be let to the frontline, but, of course, his request wasn't satisfied. He lived like that until 1947. While in prison, he got acquainted with and started to live with a different woman, so he never returned to my mother.

In 1947, after ten years of imprisonment, he was released on probation. He understood perfectly that it wasn't for long, that he would be arrested again. He worked in Kyrgyzstan as a doctor until 1950. In 1950, 14 years after his first arrest and three years after his release, he was arrested for the second time by the bodies of the State Security Committee 24 in Kyrgyzstan and dispatched to the Krasnoyarsk territory, where after long waiting he was appointed as doctor to a village in Yenisey. After two years of exile, in 1952, Father was fired in connection with the beginning of the Doctors' Plot in Moscow and for three months he was waiting for his third arrest. Later the State Security Committee in Kyrgyzstan dispatched him to the Far North to Taymyr National District, where he worked until Stalin's death in 1953.

In December 1954 Father obtained a passport and felt himself to be a free man. He made up his mind to take the most extreme measures and began to write letters to the Communist Party Central Committee and to the Administration of the State Security Committee about his unfair imprisonment. In April 1956, two months after the Twentieth Party Congress 25, Father was rehabilitated 26 by the resolution of the Supreme Court of the USSR. He was allowed to move to Kyrgyzstan from the Far North, where he was rehabilitated in the Party and assigned to work in Minsk, Belarus, upon his own request. He worked in Minsk until 1967, at the Scientific Research Institute of Sanitary Hygiene as a doctor-research officer and wrote and published several scientific works. He died in Minsk in 1978.

When perestroika 27 started, in 1989 during the period of complete rehabilitation of the Gulag prisoners, the Military Board of the Supreme Court of the USSR informed me with a letter that my father had been groundlessly accused of having been a member of the counterrevolutionary trotskist 28 terrorist group in Minsk since 1935. Father didn't plead guilty during the preliminary investigation and in the judicial sitting.

Growing up in wartime

From this story one can see that I've seen little of my father, first he was mostly engaged with his public party work after his main work as a surgeon, and he came home very late. I was placed in a kindergarten early, because my parents had to work and they didn't hire any nannies or maids. Later I went to a Soviet high school, and in summer I stayed at children's summer camps 29 in the suburbs of Minsk. We also spent Mother's vacation in Leningrad, at her sisters' place.

I don't remember my childhood very well, my strongest impression was when I was nine, Father was put into prison and I became the daughter of an 'enemy of the people' 30. I still remember the feeling when everybody turned away from me, all neighbors, my classmates, my teachers. The mass repressions hadn't started yet at that time, and all actions of the authorities were accepted by the nation unconditionally. I have no friends left from my childhood; I made real friends only after the Great Patriotic War, as a student in Leningrad.

At the end of April 1936 my father was arrested based on a denunciation. After that Mother, having become a wife of an 'enemy of the people,' was left without a job with two children. However, with difficulty, afraid of persecutions, she managed to find a job as an economist at the bread-baking plant and worked there as an economist-planner until the Great Patriotic War broke out.

On the day the war was announced, 22nd June 1941, my younger brother Ernst stayed near Minsk at the summer camp of his kindergarten. Mother went to visit him, but being intimidated by repressions and persecutions, was afraid to bring him to the city. Only two days after the war had been announced, when we had to escape from Minsk, we left without my brother. He remained at the summer camp for several days, but the kindergarten director managed to load the kids onto some passing train and take them to Volga, where Mother's sister found him and later brought him to Kyrgyzstan, where we stayed in evacuation. My mother and I didn't spend a night at home since the war had been announced; we stayed every day in the bomb-shelter.

On 24th June when the town was on fire and many people left the bomb- shelter for the forest, Mother, Grandfather, Aunt Maria with her son and I also decided to leave with everybody. We walked for ten days under the bombs, accompanied by the planes' droning. We weren't let into any village, because the Germans spread leaflets, which said that those who give shelter to Jews would be shot. So we slept in ditches at night, covering ourselves with old coats. We didn't have any belongings. Soon we reached Mogilev, 200 kilometers east of Minsk, which was already empty, full of military people, since the Germans were approaching. The officers gave us food and showed us where the railroad station was, which still had a train with refugees. We managed to get onto the last train, leaving Mogilev. At first we were bombed on our way, but later we passed peaceful territory and soon came to the village of Zavoronezh in Tambov region and settled in an empty village house. We wrote letters to all our relatives in Leningrad, Kyrgyzstan and in the Caucasus, saying that we were alive and needed assistance.

By that time, in the summer of 1941 Mother's sister Rosa and her husband worked in Kyrgyzstan after graduation from the First Medical Institute. They immediately sent us some money and an invitation to come to their place, Bishkek station. Since Grandfather was old and sick, we were afraid to take him with us in such hot weather, so I went together with Mother and left Grandfather in that house in Zavoronezh. After long transfers on different trains we came to Bishkek, to Aunt Rosa and her second husband, Nikolai Amurov. Mother immediately found a job as an economist at the railroad, but from the very first minute understood that she couldn't allow herself to be intimidated as the wife of an 'enemy of the people,' so she wrote in the questionnaire that she had been a widow since 1936. Mother worked as an economist-planner during the evacuation at the Railroad Administration in Kyrgyzstan.

In October 1941 all our relatives from Leningrad came to visit us in Kyrgyzstan: Aunt Maria, Aunt Hanna and Aunt Pasha. Eshka had her preliminary diploma practical work in Kazan, so she and her daughter joined us later. All husbands of my mother's sisters served in the army and stayed in besieged Leningrad during the blockade. Only Aunt Hanna's husband, Solomon Kaplan, was a civil engineer and worked at a plant during the blockade.

There were eighteen people in the two-room apartment of my aunt Rosa: the eight Bunin sisters, their eight children, Grandfather, who came later, and a distant relative of one of my aunts, who kept our household. We lived in harmony like that during the whole war, helping each other. All children went to school. That's all I remember about wartime.

Starting from 1944, at the end of the war, my aunts began to receive invitations from their husbands and returned to Leningrad. In 1945 Mother was assigned to work in liberated areas, in the town of Brest [today Belarus], where she worked as head of the planning department of railroad restaurants until her retirement age in 1959.

My brother Ernst lived with our mother while he was a schoolboy. In 1952 he moved to Leningrad, where I lived, and entered the Cinematographic Engineers Institute. After graduation he worked at the Leningrad 'Sevkabel' plant as an engineer, and at the Scientific Research Institute of Radio Equipment, where he still works.

In August 1944 I received an invitation from my uncle, came to Leningrad and in September entered the Ulyanov-Lenin Electrical Engineering Institute. That same year, after the siege of Leningrad was lifted, educational institutions started to work again and there were quite a lot of applicants. However, I passed easily. There were no expressions of anti- Semitism, the Great Patriotic War was on and people were united against the Germans, everybody forgot about the Jews both at common and political levels.

I witnessed the end of the Great Patriotic War in May 1945 in Leningrad. I was a witness to the return of Klodt's horses - the famous sculptures on Anichkov Bridge on Nevsky Prospekt, the main street in Leningrad. People, who survived the siege, very much despised those, who had been evacuated, regardless of where the person had escaped from the Germans, and where he/she came back from after the victory 31; it was considered that all who returned were those who had fled from the siege. In stores and everywhere people spoke contemptuously about the evacuated. I lived on Mayakovskogo Street in downtown Leningrad and there was a store nearby, on Nekrasova Street, where people bought food with their ration cards 32. My relatives lived in Kronstadt and I lived in Leningrad, alone in their own separate apartment. All events of my student life took place on Mayakovskogo Street.

Post-war

As a student I spent my holidays at my mother's place in Brest. I met my husband-to-be, Grigory Gorelov, a Jew, there. He lived there with his parents. They were doctors and as well as my mother, had been assigned to work in a liberated district, in Brest. They were a very nice family of intellectuals. I don't remember anything else about my husband's parents. No one introduced us to each other on purpose; we met by accident at a dancing pavilion and liked each other at once. We spent those holidays together as well as all following ones. We had a very good time together, we were students. Our relations were difficult owing to the fact that we lived in different cities. But we wrote letters to each other very often.

In 1949 my husband graduated from the Polytechnic Institute in Minsk and I graduated from the Electrical Engineering Institute in Leningrad. He came to Leningrad for his preliminary diploma practical work and in June 1949 we got married. I thought that we were just good friends, that is why his proposal to marry him caught me unawares. However, I agreed immediately. On that day we both went to work, and while we talked, he, as if among other things, made me a proposal. I took up his intonation and on our way to work we dropped by the ZAGS [Civilian Registry Office Department] and wrote an application. We didn't have any celebration, we simply registered our marriage. I was dressed very commonly, ordinarily, and my friend, the only guest at our registration, was dressed very beautifully, that is why the ZAGS official addressed her all the time, as if she were the bride. It was very funny, and I remembered it for the rest of my life. In the evening of that day we went to the theater together to watch the Moscow Arts Academic Theater performance.

After the defense of his diploma Grigory got an assignment to work in Leningrad at the Sverdlov plant. We lived here until 1951, when he was enlisted to the Red Army Forces, since the Navy required personnel. In 1951 our daughter Alla was born. In 1953 we moved to Tallinn, where my husband served as a navy officer at that time. My husband worked at the navy plant in Tallinn up to 1957, and in 1957 he was transferred to work in the Polish People's Republic, the town of Svinemuende, the USSR navy base. I joined him with my daughter a little later. We lived there until 1960. In 1958 I temporarily moved to Brest to give birth to our son, Yevgeny. I didn't want a foreign country to be written in his birth certificate, as we lived in the Soviet Union.

In 1960, before my husband was demobilized, I returned to my mother in Leningrad, who moved there in 1959 from Brest after she had retired. I found a job at the Scientific Research Institute of Radio Equipment, where I worked for 23 years until my retirement. There were never any conflicts at my work place because of my Jewish identity. At the end of 1960 my husband was demobilized under the Order of Khrushchev 33 about the reduction of the Army. He returned to Leningrad, got an apartment here, found a job as an engineer at the Design Institute and worked there until his death in 1995; he was buried at the Jewish cemetery in St. Petersburg. My mother lived with us. She died in 1986 and was buried at the Jewish cemetery as well.

In the course of the Doctors' Plot and the 'campaign against cosmopolitans' 34 all doctors in our family suffered a lot, as the attitude to them at work changed, there was no elementary respect. This happened both to managers and colleagues; all the rest suffered too, there were a lot of doctors in our family, but no one was fired. Stalin's death in a sense liberated all of the Bunin sisters.

I didn't like Stalin from the moment I understood what had been done to my father. My mother and all the elder Bunins, my aunts, understood perfectly, what kind of oriental-despotic state we happened to live in. After the husbands of the three elder Bunin sisters were arrested in 1937, all their illusions immediately changed into precise understanding of what really happened in Stalin's time. Everything they dreamed about in their youth, everything they strove for, a real life of equal rights, lost its true sense. When Stalin died, someone of the younger sisters tried to cry, but the elder sister Reizl [Rosa] said, 'It won't get any worse, such a despot should have died long ago.'

On 10th March 1953, the day of Stalin's funeral, I worked at the central plant laboratory of the 'Novator' plant located on Obvodny Canal. No one worked on that day, everybody listened to the funeral broadcast and watched, who cried more. A colleague of mine and I had not a single tear in our eyes, so we had to turn away to the window. I wet my finger with my own saliva in order to imitate tears on my cheeks. My friend saw it and began to laugh, but managed to hold it back. Suddenly the USSR anthem started to play and some optimistic program began, conducted by, I think, Molotov 35, who said that Stalin was dead, but life went on.

After the war all of my mother's sisters got together in Leningrad and lived a very friendly life. They were all united by blood, by their age, by their common childhood, by their views upon life, by business and common friends. They very often gathered in each other's houses for birthday celebrations, for secular holidays, sometimes without any reason. For some time one of the sisters even arranged family gatherings each Saturday at her place, so that everybody would see each other more often, not only on holidays. It was a joint lunch and everybody came with their families, just to communicate. The sisters went to the theater together, read the same books and the 'Novy Mir,' 'Znamya,' 'Druzhba narodov' magazines, popular periodicals at that time, exchanged them between themselves. They were interested in everything that happened around them. As they grew old, they even spent vacations together at their summer houses 36. For me it was a real clan, where I felt calm and certain that if anything bad happened to me, I would be protected by them. The same applied to all other nephews and nieces.

I was always surrounded by friends and admirers, but my best friends were always my friends from the institute, with whom I still keep in touch; at the age of 60, they are all women of Jewish blood and we are all very close.

When I raised my children, no Jewish traditions were observed in our family, besides, neither me, nor my husband knew about them, we were raised in such a time. My children knew that they were Jews and they were never ashamed of it, though sometimes they faced anti-Semitism at school demonstrated by their class-mates.

My daughter Alla came to Leningrad from Poland earlier in order to go to school, both to the ordinary and music school, so she lived with her grandmother, my mother. She went to the music school, she had a talent. After finishing the music school she entered a school attached to the Conservatory and finished it. By that time she had already married Alexander Baboshkin, in 1970, and they had a son, Andrey. Several years later, she entered a university and graduated from the Department of Choir Conductors. She still works as a ballet concertmaster.

When Alla married Alexander, he was a student. He graduated from the VTUZ 37 attached to the Leningrad Metal Plant and he still works as a teacher in that institute. He is a candidate of science 38 and is now working on his doctoral thesis. My elder grandson, Andrey, born in 1973, graduated from VTUZ, just like his father and at present works as a sales manager, selling Volvo cars. He has a wife, Lena Krylova, and a son, Vitaly, who is now four months old. My second granddaughter, Natasha [Natalya], born in 1983, finished a school with profound study of English and now is a student of the Cultural College, the Faculty of Tourism Organization.

My son Yevgeny graduated from the Faculty of Philology of the Hertzen Pedagogical Institute, served in the army and began to work as a school teacher. When his son Vassily was born, they were short on finances and Zhenya [Yevgeny] started to work as a street-car driver, having finished special courses. He still works as a driver. His wife, Olga Belyayeva, also graduated from the Faculty of Philology of the Pedagogical Institute and has been working as a teacher of the Russian language and Russian literature at school for many years. My grandson Vasya [Vassily] is an 11th grade student in a high school.

A lot of my relatives went to live abroad after the break-up of the Soviet Union, fortunately, there was nothing to be afraid of in the 1990s 39, so our relations weren't interrupted, we keep in touch - but, of course, only by post or rare phone calls, I've never been abroad. Since I can't afford it, and I never paid close attention to the political events in Israel. Today I lead a pretty active life, but a secular one: I don't celebrate Jewish holidays or attend the synagogue. I get some help and presents on holidays from 'Hesed' 40 and I am grateful for it.

Glossary

1 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.

2 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.

3 Gulag

4 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.

5 Jewish Pale of Settlement

Certain provinces in the Russian Empire were designated for permanent Jewish residence and the Jewish population was only allowed to live in these areas. The Pale was first established by a decree by Catherine II in 1791. The regulation was in force until the Russian Revolution of 1917, although the limits of the Pale were modified several times. The Pale stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea, and 94% of the total Jewish population of Russia, almost 5 million people, lived there. The overwhelming majority of the Jews lived in the towns and shtetls of the Pale. Certain privileged groups of Jews, such as certain merchants, university graduates and craftsmen working in certain branches, were granted to live outside the borders of the Pale of Settlement permanently.

6 Cheder for girls

Model cheders were set up in Russia where girls studied reading and writing.

7 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.

8 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.

9 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.

10 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.

11 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.

12 Vladimir Ilyich Lenin (Ulyanov) (1879, Simbirsk, now Ulyanovsk - 1924, Gorki near Moscow) - the founder of Bolshevism, leader of the October Revolution of 1917 in Russia; initiator and first Head of the Soviet state

The maternal grandfather of Lenin (Ulyanov), doctor Blank, was a Jew, who converted to Christianity. Lenin was an absolute opponent of anti-Semitism in any of its expressions, which could be seen from his political decisions, articles and speeches. There were many persons of Jewish origin among his associates and personal friends. However, the political ideology, developed by him, did not consider Jews as a separate nation and regarded their assimilation as an inevitable and progressive event. After Lenin died, these views served as basis for elimination of traditional Jewish culture in the USSR.

13 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.

14 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.

15 'Road of Life' - during the Great Patriotic War the only transport road across Ladoga Lake (in the navigation periods - across water, across ice in winter), which connected the besieged Leningrad with the country within the period between September 1941 and March 1943

16 Stalingrad Battle

17th July 1942 - 2nd February 1943. The South- Western and Don Fronts stopped the advance of German armies in the vicinity of Stalingrad. On 19th and 20th November 1942 the Soviet troops undertook an offensive and encircled 22 German divisions (330,000 people) and eliminated them. On 31st January 1943 the remains of the 6th German army headed by General Field Marshal Paulus surrendered (91,000 people). The victory in the Stalingrad battle was of huge political, strategic and international significance.

17 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.

18 Bolsheviks

Members of the movement led by Lenin. The name 'Bolshevik' was coined in 1903 and denoted the group that emerged in elections to the key bodies in the Social Democratic Party (SDPRR) considering itself in the majority (Rus. bolshynstvo) within the party. It dubbed its opponents the minority (Rus. menshynstvo, the Mensheviks). Until 1906 the two groups formed one party. The Bolsheviks first gained popularity and support in society during the 1905-07 Revolution. During the February Revolution in 1917 the Bolsheviks were initially in the opposition to the Menshevik and SR ('Sotsialrevolyutsionyery', Socialist Revolutionaries) delegates who controlled the Soviets (councils). When Lenin returned from emigration (16 April) they proclaimed his program of action (the April theses) and under the slogan 'All power to the Soviets' began to Bolshevize the Soviets and prepare for a proletariat revolution. Agitation proceeded on a vast scale, especially in the army. The Bolsheviks set about creating their own armed forces, the Red Guard. Having overthrown the Provisional Government, they created a government with the support of the II Congress of Soviets (the October Revolution), to which they admitted some left-wing SRs in order to gain the support of the peasantry. In 1952 the Bolshevik party was renamed the Communist Party of the Soviet Union.

19 Organizational Three

the Soviet political system was being developed within the conditions of the Civil War (1918-1920), thus its institutions were of emergency, non- constitution character for a long time. Such 'threes' meant to be bodies of non-judicial punishment of 'Revolution enemies,' were formed in provinces, districts, towns, as part of local Emergency Commissions (EC) aimed at control over counter-revolution, sabotage, and banditry. They passed a lot of death sentences without any judicial or legislative proceedings, based on the 'class feeling.' This practice of mass repressions and non-judicial punishment remained during all years of Stalin's power. Besides, the top local power was called the 'three,' as it consisted of the chairman of the Communist Party Committee, the local Soviet chairman and the head of the local body of the EC/GPU/OGPU/NKVD. They headed the local Party-economic active group, controlled all the information, directed to the superior authorities, and were absolute hosts of all local life.

20 Whites (White Army)

Counter-revolutionary armed forces that fought against the Bolsheviks during the Russian Civil War. The White forces were very heterogeneous: They included monarchists and liberals - supporters of the Constituent Assembly and the tsar. Nationalist and anti-Semitic attitude was very common among rank-and-file members of the white movement, and expressed in both their propaganda material and in the organization of pogroms against Jews. White Army slogans were patriotic. The Whites were united by hatred towards the Bolsheviks and the desire to restore a 'one and inseparable' Russia. The main forces of the White Army were defeated by the Red Army at the end of 1920.

21 White-Polish occupation

the Polish army occupied significant parts of Ukraine and Poland during the initial period of the Soviet-Polish war of 1920. Polish soldiers were noted for their cruel attitude to the Jewish population. They performed pogroms, robberies and mass rapes of women. The Soviet propaganda called them 'white Poles.' The Red Army launched a counter-offensive and reached Warsaw suburbs, but suffered a defeat on the banks of the Vistula River. According to the Riga Peace Treaty of 1921 the territory of Western Ukraine and Western Belarus were affiliated to Poland. That border existed until September 1939, when as a result of Molotov- Ribbentrop pact, regions with prevalence of Ukrainian and Belarusian population were annexed to the Soviet Union.

22 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.

23 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.

24 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.

25 Twentieth Party Congress

At the Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in 1956 Khrushchev publicly debunked the cult of Stalin and lifted the veil of secrecy from what had happened in the USSR during Stalin's leadership.

26 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.

27 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.

28 Trotsky, Lev Davidovich (born Bronshtein) (1879-1940)

Russian revolutionary, one of the leaders of the October Revolution of 1917, an outstanding figure of the communist movement and a theorist of Marxism. Trotsky participated in the social-democratic movement from 1894 and supported the idea of the unification of Bolsheviks and Mensheviks from 1906. In 1905 he developed the idea of the 'permanent revolution'. He was one of the leaders of the October Revolution and a founder of the Red Army. He widely applied repressive measures to support the discipline and 'bring everything into revolutionary order' at the front and the home front. The intense struggle with Stalin for the leadership ended with Trotsky's defeat. In 1924 his views were declared petty-bourgeois deviation. In 1927 he was expelled from the Communist Party, and exiled to Kazakhstan, and in 1929 abroad. He lived in Turkey, Norway and then Mexico. He excoriated Stalin's regime as a bureaucratic degeneration of the proletarian power. He was murdered in Mexico by an agent of Soviet special services on Stalin's order.

29 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.

30 Enemy of the people

Soviet official term; euphemism used for real or assumed political opposition.

31 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.

32 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.

33 Khrushchev, Nikita (1894-1971)

Soviet communist leader. After Stalin's death in 1953, he became first secretary of the Central Committee, in effect the head of the Communist Party of the USSR. In 1956, during the 20th Party Congress, Khrushchev took an unprecedented step and denounced Stalin and his methods. He was deposed as premier and party head in October 1964. In 1966 he was dropped from the Party's Central Committee.

34 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'.

35 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.

36 Dacha

country house, consisting of small huts and little plots of lands. The Soviet authorities came to the decision to allow this activity to the Soviet people to support themselves. The majority of urban citizens grow vegetables and fruit in their small gardens to make preserves for winter.

37 VTUZ plant

system of higher education, the core of which was harmonious connection of education with production. The VTUZ was a specialized higher educational institution, which trained specialists based on orders made out by enterprises.

38 Soviet/Russian doctorate degrees

Graduate school in the Soviet Union (aspirantura, or ordinatura for medical students), which usually took about 3 years and resulted in a dissertation. Students who passed were awarded a 'kandidat nauk' (lit. candidate of sciences) degree. If a person wanted to proceed with his or her research, the next step would be to apply for a doctorate degree (doktarontura). To be awarded a doctorate degree, the person had to be involved in the academia, publish consistently, and write an original dissertation. In the end he/she would be awarded a 'doctor nauk' (lit. doctor of sciences) degree.

39 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.

40 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.

Dezso Deutsch

Dezso Deutsch
Budapest
Hungary
Interviewer: Dora Sardi and Eszter Andor

My paternal grandparents were born in Hungary around the 1850s. My grandfather’s name was David Deutsch. I do not know my grandmother’s name; I never met her. She died young, in childbirth. Grandfather David died in 1936 at home, in Bakonytamasi, where he . He had been living there all along. One of my father’s grandfathers fought in Kossuth’s army [in the 1848 Hungarian War of Independence]. That Which means that, beside having a strong Jewish identity, he believed and considered himself a Hungarian.

I do not have real living memories of my father’s brothers and sisters. It is because I did not visited them very often. I know about one of his sisters of his, who . This sister helped her father run their store. She wagsot married, and her son and daughters who managed to survive the war, tnow hey all live abroad. My father had a brother, too, who moved to Ujpest and had a shoe store. He did not survive the Holocaust, either. Many of my relatives live abroad.

My mother’s parents lived in Tet, near Gyor. Tet was quite a big village. There was a rabbi;, who lived there, there was everything a Jewish community needed. T, there was an Orthodox and a Neolog branch, too. There was a shochet, as well. The proper religious Jews devoted their lives completely to their being Jewish, to business and to the family.

Grandfather’s name was Bernat Sauer, grandmother’s Lina. She must have been born in the 1860s. My grandparents had a store which was then called the haberdasher’s. They traded with all kinds of clothing and sold fabrics too. The store was on the Main Street, near the Main Square, in the city. It was named the Sauer Haberdashery. They had a big family house. I do not know how many rooms exactly, but four is for sure. They needed it too as the family was a big one. And the store was in the same building only it opened onto the street.

They [my grandparents] occupied themselves with two things: business and synagogue. They had their own seats in the synagogue. Grandfather had some kind of position in the Jewish community, I am not sure what it was exactly but he was a member of some committee and probably even the president of that board. Grandfather would go to synagogue twice a day. He prayed with the prayer shawl and leined [the reading of the Torah] tefilin [phylacteries]. Almost like an Orthodox of the strictest kind. He wore ordinary dark gray suits [not a caftan]. He had little payot, which he tucked behind his ears. He did not have a beard but his head was always covered – he wore a hat even when at home. Grandmother naturally wore a wig and in the house she wore a kerchief on her head. Grandmother partly ran the house, partly worked in the store. But as a matter of course, there was a house maid as well.

It was mostly at summertime that we would visit them, but not too much of that either. I was not too enthusiastic about the [maternal] grandparents and was not very keen on visiting them anyhow. We, the young generation had a little more modern way of life and thinking, in the school too, and we were raised without being compelled to wear caps, and I had a moderate hairstyle too. I was about 13 or 14 and had a hairstyle when I went to visit my grandparents and the first thing they did was to have my hair cut saying that one could not appear before the rabbi like that. And there they would see to it that we wore something [hat or kipa] on our heads all the time.

My mother had five brothers and sisters, two of them my mother’s elders. There was Kari [Karoly], then Aunt Riza, Aunt Sari, Naci, Uncle Dezso and my mother. My mother as well as the other children received the same [strictly Jewish] education. We were really and truly religious yet everyone of us spoke Hungarian but of course we all had an excellent command of Yiddish as well, and sometimes we switched over to that language.

The young ones worked for the [family] business for a while, then each went on their way. Some moved to Paks, others to other places. Some opened a store of their own. Each had some kind of a store but none of them dealt with foods. Sari had a leather goods store. All of them got married. Aunt Sari had two children, both of them girls, Aunt Lisa had two as well, one of them, Shmule lives in Israel: he emigrated as a young lad in 1939 and took part in the wars of liberation too. He established a family in Israel. Dezso had three children – two girls and one boy, the latter died during the war. He [Uncle Dezso] also had some kind of a store. Uncle Naci became director to a store that belonged to a big mining company, he sold [mining] tools and accessories. I do not know where it was: he became a little estranged from the family. He too had a family, wife and children as well. Karoly had married already before the war and they all died, they were all taken to Auschwitz along with the grandparents. Karoly alone came back home and here he remarried, established a new family then went to Israel and died.

My father’s name was Mor Deutsch. He was born in 1882 in Bakonytamasi but of course he did not live there. My mother, Iren Sauer, was born in Tet in 1887. My father actually completed his elementary studies only, then, I think, he went to Vienna where he worked and learnt the language. First he married a very religious woman from Papa. It was an arranged marriage. Unfortunately she died in childbirth, but the child, Zoltan, survived. My father remarried, there was a young lady recommended to him – as was the custom of those days – and he married her. The little boy was less then a year old when he came into the custody of my mother. To me Zoltan was as if he had been my own brother and as far as I remember I only came to know later that he was not full kin to us. Later he came to live in Celldomolk where he opened a small store which in time grew bigger and bigger.

[In Celldomolk] the majority of the Jews settled in the core of the town but not in separation. There was no ghetto, but the Jews lived close to each other, not in one single street, but in a few streets within one neighborhood. Our next door neighbor on the right was Christian as well as the one on the left side. But we had a good relationship. The Jews mostly made friends with Jews but we maintained good connections with the others as well, partly on account of the business. In Celldomolk there was an Orthodox and a Neolog community. The two communities were not on good terms with each other at all. They spectacularly neglected each other. The two schools fought and eventually the Orthodox community took over the school where pupils from Neolog families could come as well, however there were Neolog families who sent their children to some other school. Nevertheless, friendly private connections did exist between Orthodox and Neolog people.

Our store was in the center of Celldomolk, and I think it was the best store in Celldomolk. It offered everything except for food, that is, fabrics, haberdashery, shoes. It belonged mostly to the family as we were four of us brothers and two sisters and my mother was an excellent business woman. She also worked there part time but there were employees too. Generally eight or nine people were employed, mostly Jews.

In the store there was everything on stock: carpets, fabrics, silk. The store was in a one-storey house but it was a long building. It consisted of several departments. There was the textile department, the department of accessories, then shoe department. Later, after having finished school, I became the director of the shoe department. My father bought the goods mostly in Budapest, but there were wholesalers in Papa, or in Szombathely. Partly he himself traveled, and later we also went up to Budapest to get stuff, partly the big firms had their agents who toured the country with the collection and one could order from them.

My parents worked very hard. A holiday was out of the question for them and we were there to help them. There was nothing like going on holidays like people do today, only at times of religious celebrations would they close the store. The family never had their lunch together except for religious festivals. No such thing as lunchtime existed at work: we would go and get our meals one after another in the flat at the rear end of the house. Evening dinners were more like family gatherings because by that time the store was already closed. In those days business was very important for Jewish families. When opening hours were regulated by law, the store was open from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. But in the wintertime, when Sabbath was over, my father would go and open the store even on Saturdays. That’s when the new week came in early and he would go and open the store at around 5 for an extra hour or so. There was a steady system of credits. We had lots of customers who worked for monthly salaries and came regularly to us and were indebted to us and many would purchase goods on credit. There were some who would pay only a part of their debts, and accounts had to be kept for them. At the same time we ourselves purchased goods on credit. This was a widely accepted custom.

My mother did not have to struggle too much with household chores as she herself worked in the store. She would not go out shopping too often. At the time of weekly fairs we had so many customers, it would have been impossible for my mother to go to the market. It was always the housemaid who went [to market]. She was the one who cooked, she knew what to buy. But she went to kosher places only – she was not allowed to go anyplace else. But our customers often brought us presents, like fruits or vegetables. It was an absolute necessity for us to have a housemaid who was capable enough and would keep an eye on everything because most of the time my mother was busy with the store. And that stood for my grandparents too. Because my grandmother was also busy with the store. Women had their very important, decisive role in the business. The housemaid was a real family member for us. She would help with everything, she learnt how to keep kosher and was verily like a grandmother. She lived with us – there was a place fixed for her next to the kitchen but she never ate with us – she had her meals in the kitchen.

My mother also had a beautiful wig. Every day someone came to comb it. They put the wig on for her and so she was ready to start the day. Ladies wore only long sleeves even in summer and the tops were long too, as well as their skirts, but they looked very attractive all the time. My mother’s deepest concern was to raise us in the manner that we become good Jews, but she accepted that times were changing and she considered, for example, that maybe it was not so very necessary for us, boys to wear caps all the time, though it is also true that in spite of our conduct which was a bit closer to modern ways, we still remained very much Orthodox. We did not really digress from religion, just handled certain things in a different way. In fact the Jewry of the time had two main concerns: the great fair and the religious holidays. Those were the events we were always preparing for. Of course we young people frequented cafes, we were allowed to go to the dancing school when I was 18-19-20 years old. I and my brothers and sisters were absolutely Orthodox, but not that old fashioned. Well, my mother was not so happy about it, but what could she do? A typical reaction of hers was when I received my call up to the army, in her first shock she asked: “yeah, but what about your meals?”

My parents were not particularly educated, and we did not have too much money, so we did not buy too many books. They would rather read books on Jewish matters if they read books at all.
We subscribed to the paper Egyenloseg [Equality] and to the Pesti Naplo [Pest Diary] which was the best paper of its time, a daily. Then there was the Miriam [prayer book for women], which was in Hungarian. My mother, however, read Hebrew beautifully too, only she did not understand what she was reading, so she would rather read the ladies’ prayer book in Hungarian.

During the first world war my father served in the Italian front from 1917 to 1918. He came back when the war was over. He received a decoration and I remember that he brought his pistol home, which he kept hidden somewhere. And at home he was a Jew and a Hungarian at the same time. And as being a member of the Alliance of Front Warriors decorated with an award of war merit, he was convinced he would never suffer any harm from the Hungarians, then see what happened.

Where I was born that was a smaller house and the store was in a separate building. Then later we had a pretty big house with a big yard and the store in the front and the family lived in the rear tract. We had four rooms which we needed too because I had two sisters and three brothers. My eldest brother was Zoltan. He, just like everyone of us, worked in the store, then in 1937 or 38 he became self-employed and moved to Dobrogkoz. That’s where he married and he went on working there. He had one child. He always observed his religion very strictly. Then there was Jeno. He was born in 1911. He too started working in the store and never left. Then he got married and two children were born to them. The elder must have been about three and a half when he was deported to Auschwitz, the other one less then six months old. Jeno was drafted into forced labor and died a few weeks before the end of the war in Mauthausen. Nandor was with him all along. The next brother is Nandor. He too worked in the family store, got married, was deported and his wife and little daughter perished. He alone came back from Mauthausen. Then I came in 1918, then my sister, Rozsi who was born in 1921. That time it was the custom that children had to help in the store. But she finished her studies too. She was a beautiful, intelligent girl. Unfortunately in 1943 she got married. My father strongly objected. not because of the boy but he said “You have four brothers and if one of them is unable to attend the wedding ceremony, you should not get married.” But she did and that was her bad luck. She too was deported and when her hairs were shaved the doctor noticed that she was pregnant and immediately she was sent to the gas, though she had been selected for work because she was strong and healthy, she could have survived the camp. My youngest sister, Margit, was born in 1928. She was 12 when I left, a beautiful one, still in school. She was 16 when she was deported. She was also killed.

School years

I went to the Jewish elementary school which was a school of six grades. It was run by the Orthodox community. Here everybody was Jewish and as far as I remember there were Orthodox students wearing payot, but that was the only difference between them and us, we were all equally religious. We did not wear payot. Everybody spoke Hungarian, but the schoolteacher spoke Jewish [Yiddish] occasionally. We understood both.

When I finished elementary school I wanted to go to middle school. At first my mother strongly objected and said I did not need it and why should I go to a totally secular school. Eventually I went to the middle school in Celldomolk which was said to be a very good school. My mother consented to it on condition that I was not going to do any writing on Saturdays. The director was a decent man so it was I alone in the whole school who got the permission to be exempted from writing. [On Sundays]. I would not even bring my schoolbag to school – everything I needed I packed on Fridays, I left them in my desk and on Saturdays I would just be sitting and listening all day. In the school there were some Jews, they were Neolog, not religious. I had Christian classmates, but neither from them nor from the part of the teachers ever came anything [anti-Semitic remarks] because there was this director, a very strict and firm person but very nice and honest at the same time. My favorite subjects were arithmetic and geometric. I was the best student in my class. I also liked German, because I knew Yiddish so I was good at it too. I did not have to attend religious education. When the class started I would just go home, when it ended, I walked back. During my school years I played football, I was member of a team. Later we played these games, mostly table tennis, and teams were set up by Catholic, Lutheran and Jewish societies.

From my first grade on I attended another school too, where I studied Jewish subjects. It was not a proper yeshiva, it was a kind of pre-yeshiva. It was run by the Orthodox community and we were about the ten of us students there. We studied Humesh [the five books of Moses], Rashi [commentaries to the Talmud written by Rashi], Gemore [Gemara, part of the Talmud which interprets and explains the Mishna which preceded it], as well as Tosefot [critical and analytical glossaries attached to the Mishna and the Gemara]. The classes had their special choreography. There was a copy of the Talmud and we would read out from it, then the bocher [yeshiva student] explained it, then we discussed it and gave the explanation of the different stories and we were supposed to understand the different points of view of the sages. We translated everything into Yiddish. Then sometimes we discussed the same thing in Hungarian. The discussion was in Hungarian. There was no homework but a so-called review or report on Sundays. It was conducted by the rabbi and he asked questions on the subjects we had covered the previous week It was not a proper exam but rather a discussion of the material we had studied the previous week. He would ask questions and he would add his own explanation to the given question. I liked going to this place but it was quite stressful because I would come home from school, have my lunch and by two o’clock I had to be there. I generally studied until six and I had to do my homework in the evening [for the middle school.]

Friday evenings and festival nights in general were decisive in the life of the family. [On Fridays] we would go to the synagogue with my brothers and sisters. Women would stay at home because they prepared the dinner with the help of the housemaid, of course, who was naturally a Gentile. She would serve the Friday meal and she would fetch the Saturday dish from the baker’s. [After worship] there came the Friday dinner. According to the tradition my father blessed the boys one after the other, every week, which was such an uplifting feeling. [For dinner] we often had stuffed fish, also soup and chicken stew. After dinner there was zmirot [psalms], singing. Then on Saturday mornings we would go to the synagogue. Then we would have lunch.

Of course all Jewish tradition was strictly observed in the family. I have a very vivid memory of an event. One Saturday morning I was out in the yard when someone knocked on the door and one of our regular customers stood in the door with her sobbing daughter. As it turned out the daughter was to have her wedding the next day and her shoes which they had bought in our store were too small for her. So the mother said, “Please, Mr Dezso, I know that this is a holiday for you, but please, do me a favor and let me exchange these shoes. I am not even going in, you just hand it out”. Well, I did not have the heart to refuse her, I went in and brought a pair one size bigger which meant I did not have to touch money at all or anything, and just when I was handing over the shoes my father came. He saw me coming out of the store with a parcel in my hand, on a Saturday, and the lady started to explain that she was responsible, she was the one who asked me to do it and the like. My father did not say a word, he just simply went into the house. But when the customers were gone, he started to shout at the top of his voice. He actually hollered and declared that as long as he lived and the store belonged to him, nobody in that house would ever be allowed to work on Saturdays. In short he was always aware of what was the most important thing at a given moment: business, synagogue, family.

All holidays were strictly observed. The store was closed, we celebrated the holiday and went to worship. The most distinguished holiday was Pesach because that is one of our most important holidays starting with the Seder night. On Seder night we went to the synagogue, then we held the Seder which could go on until as late as half past eleven. There was a rich Seder plate, with naturally charoses [a mixture of ground nuts, apple, wine and cinnamon] on it, along with bitter herbs and eggs and there was salty water on the table. It was my father who held the Seder, he explained everything. I, as the youngest boy read the Haggadah out. Everything [all utensils] were kept apart for Seder. In this period nothing was used from what we used normally, everything had been carried up to the attic. On the day before there was the process of doing hometz [the removal of all leavened products from the house] which lasted for one day. I did not take part in that, it was done by my mother and the maid. Whenever we were given any new clothing as children, it came for Pesach.

Then there was Succoth. Outside the entrance to the house we had a kind of fenced arbor. In the summertime one could sit there then in the afternoon my father and his friends played cards there. Then at the time of the Succoth it was very easy to prepare the tent, and everyone would eat there during the holidays. We had of course lulav [palm tree branch], and etrog [a kind of lime fruit] in the house and we would be sitting out under the tent and read the Kohelet [Ecclesiastes; one of the five scrolls] and other things. My father would explain things and we also told what we were taught about those things at school. At Chanukah candles were lit in the synagogue, every day, as it came, one after the other. My mother would light them at home too and she told the blessing on it each evening, along with the girls. We, children would play, played with the spinning top. At Purim it sometimes happened that some kind of a role-play was staged in the school. They would animate the story of Esther, they would put on costumes, learned the roles and perform the play. We would prepare presents, some cookies. Everyone would bake some, send it to their friends and close acquaintances and of course would get a lot in turn. There were some students with us who lived in the countryside but wanted to go to some Jewish school and so they came to live in Celldomolk and “eat days” [i.e. they would go and have their lunch with different Jewish families each day]. My mother regularly received such students then at each holiday we would be given huge parcels from the parents of these children.

Growing up
My family
Going to school
During the War
After the War
Glossary

I finished the middle school in 1938. Then I started to work in the store. At first [my duty was] selling goods, keeping the place tidy, then later on I did the purchase along with my father. We had a separate shoe department which was not a common thing those days and I became assigned to direct that department. My father would never stay behind the counter. There was a strict counter-system those days. My father would stay in the customers’ area while I stood behind the counter. I worked in the store until 1940.

In the middle of 1940 I received my call up letter from the army. I registered as a regular soldier and did not know that that could be the beginning of something. We were taken to Koszeg where after two sessions of training we were rounded up and told that we weren’t trustworthy enough to defend the country so we would serve as laborers. An indeed this was the first forced labor division, so we became the first Jewish forced laborers. We worked in Koszeg for a while, then at road constructions, trenching and unloading train carriages. There was also some agricultural work. It was all quite hard but we were all young and strong. From time to time we were allowed to send a postcard home but were not given any leave. From places all over the country Jews who were liable to military service had been directed to Koszeg, so two divisions were set up. We were told that we were expected to follow absolute discipline and the slightest breach of discipline would be sanctioned. There came 1942, the two years almost passed [the duration of compulsory military service] when in the summer of that year we were instructed to write a postcard home and say that we wanted them to send us all the necessary clothing for march as well as for cold weather because we were not entitled to be given any clothing any more. They packed us into a train and that was when a very typical scene occurred. The trains that carried the soldiers of the Hungarian Army to the front were finely decorated with flowers. When we arrived at the railway station a train beautifully prepared like that was standing there. When our commander caught sight of it, he ordered that all flowers should immediately be removed because we were only Jews and not Hungarians defending their country.

We traveled almost one week by that train. Food was not distributed too often and when we stopped we were already on the territory of Ukraine. Then came the march on foot. We were informed that we were going to cover more than 1,000 km in cavalry march – which meant 30 km per day and there would not be any rest only after having walked 15 km – so we’d better throw away all luggage that was not absolutely necessary, like canned food, and so on. The march lasted for more than a month and not once did we sleep under a roof. During the march we were given food too, I won’t say that it was sufficient and delicious but some kind of catering it surely was. And the weather was not that bad, as it was the summer period. Then we arrived at the river Don where we got accommodated in nasty tents and the trench digging and tank trap setting started. It was an absolutely senseless work to do and in the meanwhile fall, then the merciless wintertime and the frontline was approaching. Until fall we had been having a relatively nice commander who had no ill intentions. But when it dawned on him that the front was rapidly approaching and it would be impossible to defend ourselves, he asked for a leave and never came back. He was replaced by another one who was ruthless and a sadist and we were falling like flies.

I got hit in November and to my great luck I was taken to a hospital where the Hungarian soldiers got treatment, but the Jews were just thrown into the basement without beds or anything. The doctor would come down once a day but did nothing -- Jews were not supposed to get medicament or bandage. We were given some kind of food and when I was already recovering I started to help those around me. One day the First Lieutenant Surgeon came downstairs to visit and he was accompanied by a girl. After the doctor had left she hurried up to me and asked “Mr. Deutsch, don’t you recognize me? I used to be a regular customer of your store in Cell[domolk], see these shoes, I bought them in your store. I am not in the position to help but I will try to keep an eye on you.” Days were passing and all of a sudden she comes and whispers in my ears that the next day everyone capable of walking would be sent back to the front, because the hospital was too crowded and I’d better figure out something. So the next day the First Lieutenant duly came and told us that we should be on our way. I told him I had just been written to my unit and asked for my clothes that I left behind when I was taken to the hospital and if I were to get back right now, I would just outright miss my baggage, and it was minus 30 degrees Celsius there and I was sure to freeze to death right away. He was a decent guy so he took me off the list and said that I should go by the next transport. And a few days later he even managed to organize me as a help-all in the basement, along with another guy. We had to bring the food, carry out the dead, look after everybody and the like. So I got access to the kitchen where I was sometimes given an extra portion and that way I could share my regular portion with the other people downstairs.

That was going on like that for a while and one morning we woke up to realize that the hospital was empty. Food and all equipment lying around, the whole building deserted. While the Russians attacked, the Hungarians fled and no one cared about us, we were just left behind. For a few days we did not really know what had happened, then the Russians came and told that we were prisoners of war. For a short period of time we stayed on, then we were transported to camps. We went by train as far as the Eastern borders of Russia. It was already summertime by the time we arrived at our destination, the summer of 1943. Here I stayed for five years. Our job was the felling of trees. It was extremely cold, the rule was that we went to work only when the temperature was above minus 40 degrees Celsius. If it fell under 40 degrees we would be given a day off. Boarding was all right and all those who reached these camps starting off from the road construction in Hungary, all of us survived. Here one did not have to die any more.

Post-war

In 1947 those who were not fit for work because of their health were sent home – regardless of their being Jewish or German or Italian or Hungarian – we were all put together, but in the barracks people were separated according to their nationalities. The Jews however were not accommodated separately, we lived where the Hungarians lived. I’ll never forgive them for treating us the same way [as the non-Jewish Hungarians] and that we were not sent home earlier. In 1947 we were given a postcard so we had the chance to write back home ( it was the first time after five years that I was allowed to write home) that we were alive and well. And as I did not know whom to write and of course one had heard many things of what happened to the Jews, I wrote the postcard and addressed it to the Mayor’s office in Celldomolk. My brother got my card and knew that he could expect me home. Then in the spring of 1948 we too were released and sent home – that year there was a big release campaign .

I went to Celldomolk straight away as I got home from captivity. My brother had already been home for almost three years, he got married and had a child too. I went home – in our house there lived my brother, his wife and their six-month-old little daughter. My brother told me what happened to whom. It was horrible. I helped my brother in the store but that time stores already started to become nationalized so I was given a job in Szombathely in a textile emporium where I dealt with the distribution of products. This store fulfilled the demands of the whole Vas county. I got promoted to a relatively high position. I joined the party but then those days that was kind of natural, although I never became a very busy party member.

Of course one had to work on Saturdays too but I always remembered that it was a holiday. And I went to the synagogue on the high holidays. I took a day off so that I could attend the service. It was quite obvious to everybody but I would never talk about it in particular. It was maybe the day before Yom Kippur when the secretary of the party comes up to me and asks whether I am taking a day off in order to go to the synagogue. I told him that it was so. So he says “you’d better not go, it is not really appreciated.” So I answered that at Yom Kippur there is a ceremony when we remember our deceased. During the war my grandparents, two brothers, two sisters, my parents and cousins got killed. He stopped bothering me, I think he got the message. I attended the synagogue anyhow, not much for prayers but I was seeking connection with my fellow Jews. There was a common room above the prayer hall – the synagogue itself was too big for us – where we played cards and chatted, I went there quite frequently. I kept connection with the Jews all along.

It was in Szekesfehervar during a business trip that I got acquainted with Klari, my wife, who lived with her father. Her mum had been killed in Auschwitz, but she and her father had come home. Her father Andor had an upholstery while Klari worked as a shop assistant. When we decided to get married I applied to be transferred to Szekesfehervar. By that time I was already the second person at the company, but Klari would not leave her father on his own and no place else could we have such a nice and spacious home as in Szekesfehervar. So I got transferred to a local textile center as a distributor and purchaser.

We had a civil wedding, but afterwards we went to the Szekesfehervar rabbinate, accompanied by a very few people only, and the rabbi also married us. In the mid-fifties this was not a common thing to do but to us it meant a lot. We regularly attended the synagogue and we were active members of the Jewish community. The Jewish community had about 30 members. That time it was not trendy to be Jewish and there were lots of mixed marriages. At the time of holidays we were always present in the prayer house – there was no proper synagogue functioning here either – and we would organize meetings as well.

In 1956 nothing extraordinary happened in Szekesfehervar. A few people demonstrated, but nothing could be felt of what was going on in Budapest and in some other places in the country. In 1956 I was already married and had a job. We had my wife’s dad to look after so I was not in the position of thinking about emigrating to Israel. But when there were the wars in Israel I was deeply concerned. Of course I was not in the position to help, but I kept my fingers crossed for Israel. It was very comforting for me to know that Jews were able to protect themselves against others, that they had arms and they were able to fight and win. It was good to know after all that had happened in the second world war. It is not just that it gives you the feeling of security that a there is a Jewish state. I also appreciate that country very much and I would be really happy if there were real peace over there. Although I was not able to emigrate because whenever we were about to go and visit my relatives, my wife fell ill. We decided several times to go, but in the end we never went. It was only after her death that I managed to get there in 1998. It is a fascinating country.
Since we moved to Budapest I went more often to the synagogue. At first I attended the synagogue in Dohany street then the one at the Rabbinical Seminary. Since my wife died I am in the synagogue each Friday and I pray. I spend my afternoons at the Shalom Club where we play cards with my friends. I keep connections nearly exclusively with Jews. I have my doctor in the Jewish hospital. It’s among them that I feel secure.

Sonya Adolf Lazarova

The Lazarov family

Sonya Adolf Lazarova
Sofia
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Svetlana Avdala
Date of interview: November 2005

‘When I get up in the morning the first thing I do is put on lipstick.’ And the lipstick suited her. During our work of several days she always met me with a large smile and a table arranged, because Sonya is a person who likes to give and help people. It’s not accidental that she fulfilled her dream to become a nurse.
And one day she said to her mother, ‘How happy I am that you gave birth to me!’ Sonya really has a jolly character. For her there are no bad people or situations. She speaks about the events in her life without pompous heroism or stoicism. They just happened like that.
At the age of 82 Sonya starts her day with applying lipstick and yet she still shivers when speaking about her first big and unfulfilled love. Years simply passed by without touching her.

My name is Sonya Adolf Nusan. I was born on 12th August 1923 in Ruse [Northeastern Bulgaria, 251km from Sofia]. My ancestors were German and Russian Jews but I have no memories about them, as I’m the youngest of the six children in our family. My eldest sister’s name was Gizela, born in 1910, and then came Liza, born in 1912, Hilda, born in 1915, my brother Fridrich, born in 1917, and my sister Zivi, born in 1921. Only Zivi and Fridrich are alive today. She lives in Israel, while he lives in Bulgaria. They were all born in Ruse.

From my earliest childhood I remember the pretty house that we had in the center of Ruse, behind the theater on Konstantin Velichkov Street. It was owned by my maternal family: my mother, Berta Hirsh Nusan [nee Goldenberg] who was born in 1888, her sisters Liza and Erma as well as my maternal grandparents. We sold it about two or three years ago. It was surrounded by an orchard. I remember my mother and father but I have no memories of my grandparents. When I was born they weren’t alive and I have no information about their names. Later my sisters used to tell me that they had had servants at home, as well as a remarkable order, which indicates that they were well off.

My father, Adolf [Avram] Lazarovich Nusan, was born in Ploesti in 1887. I have no information about his exact date of birth. At the age of 20 he came to Bulgaria, to Ruse. He spoke Romanian, Bulgarian and Yiddish. I know that he wasn’t rich, it was even rumored that he came here ‘barefoot,’ when he, sort of quickly, married my mother. I don’t recall anyone telling me why he came to Bulgaria – but most probably to search for a more profitable market for his craft – millinery, as well as better treatment of his Jewish origin, because his real name was Avram, yet he changed it to Adolf in Romania for the sake of convenience. I don’t know how and why he married my mother, but I know that she was a true beauty, she came from a well-off family, and moreover she was a very kind-hearted woman and always ready to help people. So I believe these were the reasons for their marriage.

Though my father was ‘barefoot,’ he had a successful business: the millinery. In Ruse he established a hatter’s workshop with seven employees. In this workshop they initiated the production of hats with a stiff body, both cylinders and straw hats, which was a rare practice for Bulgaria in those days. In the period of the wars [the First Balkan War 1, the Second Balkan War 2 and World War I 3] the workers enrolled in the army and the workshop closed down. Maybe this was the reason why my family moved to Sofia in order to try to make a living.

My mother was born in Ruse. Her mother tongue was Yiddish and Bulgarian, but she spoke several other languages: French, German, Russian, and English. She had graduated from a German college in Ruse, which was a high level of education for a woman at that time. At home we spoke Bulgarian and Yiddish.

I was three years old when my family decided to leave Ruse and move to Sofia. We settled on the fifth, i.e. last, floor of a building on Maria Luiza Street, as it was the cheapest one. We used to rent it until our internment in 1943 4.

There was a yard in which we, the children used to play draughts, ‘people’s ball’ [ball game in which two teams try to get the other side’s players out by hitting them with a ball], rope. The neighbors in the block of apartments were mostly Bulgarians, but other Jewish families also lived in the blocks, which surrounded the common backyard.

Our family inhabited a kitchen and two rooms. My parents used to sleep in one of the rooms, while we, the girls, slept in the other one. My brother used to sleep in the kitchen. The furniture was very modest. There were beds, tables and a dresser. Instead of a wardrobe we used to hang our clothes on a hat and coat rack, which we covered with a piece of cloth. We used a firewood-burning stove. There was a toilet in the hallway and running water in the kitchen, yet there was no bath. My sisters used to go to the public city bath, and when I was a little girl I used to be washed in a trough with heated water.

We used to sleep two in one bed, head to toe. And when my mother woke us in the morning she always confused our names because she could never recognize us in this position. Actually all of us always woke up at the same time.

At that time Sofia used to be calm, clean and green. It wasn’t crowded with enormous blocks of apartments and there was no terrible deafening noise. Jews were dispersed all over the city, but mostly in Iuchbunar 5, where the poorer ones used to live.

I remember the synagogue on Ekzarh Yosif and Bacho Kiro Streets: the old one. [The interviewee means the Midrash. According to the statistics by 1912 there were 5 synagogues in Sofia, one of which was attended by the Ashkenazi Jews. By 1928 the number of Ashkenazi Jews in Sofia was 1,600, with a synagogue and a rabbi. There was also a cheder with 15-20 children and a teacher.] There was a rabbi but I can’t recall his name and he was wonderful. I remember the service. It was in Bulgarian. I remember the cautionary speeches [prayers], choir, etc.

My family

My mother was an educated woman. Although she had graduated from a German college in Ruse and despite the fact that she spoke several languages, after her marriage she was devoted to bringing up her children, born every second year. She was a very noble person. She lived for the sake of helping people. There weren’t bad people according to her. She was ready to help anyone yet she never took part in charity organizations. Her genuine goodness was expressed in many cases, which I would love to share with you. She never yelled at us, nor did she punish us. Calmness was the most important thing to her. She always taught us to forgive people and to never get angry. She was tall, with a white face and blue eyes; the only blue eyes in our family. She always put her hair up in a bun. She didn’t use make up and always dressed in a plain manner.

My father was also a very handsome man: tall, slender, dark hair and eyes, and a mustache like that of a movie star. He always dressed elegantly and wore a soft hat. In Sofia he opened a millinery workshop with an associate of his. It was on Lege Street. Later this associate cheated him, my father went bankrupt and got divorced for reasons that I don’t know. [Editor’s note: Until 1944 marriage of Jews in Bulgaria was performed and legalized by the consistory with a marriage contract (ketubbah). In Bulgaria at that time there was no institution of civil marriage (Christians respectively got married in the church). Regarding divorces the quoted books usually are: ‘Shulhan Arouh’ and ‘Even Aezer’ by Joseph Caro, where the following sections are examined in detail: engagement, vow, marriage, ceasing of marriage, divorce, chaliza (release of marriage due to childlessness). ‘Jewish marriage and divorce law,’ a handbook by Rabbi Daniel Zion and Albert Varsano comments on all cases of Jewish practice in ceasing marriage and divorce and generalizes the rabbi experience until 1940.] Then he decided to leave for Israel in 1939. He remained there and stopped supporting our family. He passed away there but I have no information about the year, most probably between 1955 and 1965.

My father wasn’t interested and had no respect for money. He wasn’t capable of saving; he had a Bohemian nature. He was always ready to give his last penny to someone who would ask him. He traveled a lot on business and when he returned home there were always presents for us: something nice and delicious, very often kebapcheta [grilled oblong rissoles] or ‘marzipanes’ [a confectionery consisting primarily of ground almonds and sugar]. He didn’t earn much and never did he bring home the full amount, but my mother never blamed him for it. Actually they resembled each other a lot in this matter because she in her turn willingly invited anyone even if she would deprive us of something. My parents were tender and kind people. They never punished us, nor did they scream at us. My elder sisters were engaged in my upbringing. I would like to talk about them.

Gizela Asher-Anski [nee Nusan] was the eldest among us and a leader in every sense. She was talented, ambitious and intelligent. She made a brilliant artistic career with appearances in Israel and the USA, where she passed away.

She graduated from a Bulgarian elementary, junior high and high school. After graduation she initially worked in the famous dress atelier of Otto Seiner on Lege Street. There she sewed, cut, and worked as a model and sometimes, because imagination was among her greatest gifts, she designed her own clothes. As early as her work in Otto Seiner’s fashion atelier she used to play in the Jewish amateur theater [In 1928 a theater troupe was formed at Byalik chitalishte 6. It was led by Mois Beniesh and Leo Konforti: a theater and film actor, who was born in 1911 in Dupnitsa, and died in 1970. His work is mostly associated with the ‘Ivan Vazov’ National Theater.] together with Leo Konforti, Bitush Davidov [a librettist], Milka Mandil [an actress, she’s still alive and lives in Israel], Nichko Benbasat [a public figure, journalist, who worked at the Bulgarian National Radio for many years]. There she met her future husband, Eliezer Asher Anski [a writer and playwright, who was active in the 1920s-1930s], who was a director.

Leo Konforti, with whom they were close friends, most probably introduced her to some leading actors of the time. She attracted their attention and later she appeared on the stage of the National Theater with Ruzha Delcheva [(1915-2002), a famous Bulgarian drama and film actress, graduated from Nikolay Osipovich Massalitinov’s theater school in 1935, specialized for three years in ‘Deutsches Theater’ in Germany, actress of ‘Ivan Vazov’ National Theater since 1938], Magda Kolchakova [b. 1914, a Bulgarian drama and film actress, played in the ‘Ivan Vazov’ National Theater from 1940] and Ivanka Dimitrova [b. 1920, a Bulgarian drama and film actress, played in ‘Ivan Vazov’ National Theater.] It’s difficult for me to name the theater plays she performed, although I have seen them all. Nor can I remember the years when I watched them.

She knew many people from Sofia’s artistic Bohemian circles. The people mentioned above often visited us. She was always the center of attention in these merry companies: she sang, told funny stories, recited poems by [Hristo] Smirnenski 7, [Hristo] Botev 8, [Nikola] Vaptsarov 9, and others. She got married around 1939 to Eliezer Asher Anski. He was a Sephardi Jew. His family was well-off. They owned an apartment on the corner of Tsar Boris and Tsar Simeon Street [in the center of Sofia]. He was always quiet, reticent, and uncommunicative; maybe sort of a calm background to the ‘bright’ Gizela, who always shone. Probably it was due to his character that he couldn’t achieve a good career as a director. Later, when in 1948 their whole family moved to Israel, he changed his profession and started making art mosaics.

Gizela and her husband were two complete opposites. Eliezer adored Gizela and immensely loved their son Alex, who was born in 1940. In Sofia they lived at first in a lodging on Sofronii Street and after that they moved to Eliezer’s own apartment. When they left for Israel, their son Alex also started appearing on the theater stage as early as a little boy. He also made a good artistic career and now is a famous actor in the Abima [Hebrew: ‘the stage’] National Israeli Theater of Tel Aviv. His artistic talent, a continuation of his parents’ gift, was also revealed when he starred in a radio show addressed to mothers of Israeli soldiers which was meant to keep their spirits high. [Apart from being an actor, Alex Anski leads a radio show on the Israeli Military Radio. He also speaks Bulgarian].

Lili [Liza] also worked as a seamstress in the fashion atelier of Otto Seiner. She finished Bulgarian elementary, junior high and high school as well. She was also artistically gifted and was attracted by Gizela to the Jewish amateur theater, but she didn’t have Gizela’s genuine talent. She loved reading a lot. She had inherited the affinity to learning foreign languages from my mother. She attended language courses, spoke several languages and later became a bookseller. She was well-measured and frugal in company. She was always elegantly dressed, attentive to the smallest detail of her dress, because she was very exacting both to herself and to the other people. She got married in 1956 to the dentist Isak Assa, with whom she lived but had no children. She divorced him in 1958 and left for Israel by herself. There she worked as a seamstress, and got married again, to a Russian Jew with the family name Nisan, who had a daughter. She raised the child as her own. She died in Israel around 2000.

Hilda finished only a Bulgarian elementary and junior high school. She had a beautiful voice and participated in an amateur Jewish choir at the Jewish chitalishte. [Editor’s note: After World War I, in 1919 the ‘Obsht Podem’ [Common Uplift] Jewish chitalishte was founded. It existed until 1924. In 1924 the Jewish chitalishte ‘H.N.Byalik’ was formed, which by 1928 was already fourth in range among the Sofia community centers, ‘Aleko Konstantinov’, ‘Gotse Delchev’ and ‘Hristo Botev.’ The community center had 1900 volumes of literature, a theater troupe, a literature circle and a Jewish choir. There was also another Jewish chitalishte that was situated in Iuchbunar quarter, between Klementina and Opalchenska Streets.] In her selflessness and devotion to people Hilda resembled mostly my mother. She worked in a hosiery factory. She married Mihayl Mihaylov, who was a Bulgarian and an electrician by profession. They had two daughters, Lilyana and Borisalva. She never moved to Israel and died in Sofia, but I can’t recall the year of her death.

Fridrich was diligent, strict and reserved. He had the gift of an artist. Very often, when Gizela and Lili brought patterns home, which they had to draw and design in accordance with their clients’ bodies’ dimensions, he used to help them. It was as early as then that he started revealing his designer capabilities. He graduated from the ‘Hristo Botev’ construction vocational school. [Editor’s note: Technical schools are dedicated to specialized technical education. There are 3- and 4-year ones. Apart from the common subjects, the educational system includes specialized technical subjects oriented to the respective industrial branch – construction, mechanics, chemistry, electronics, etc. A great part of the students of technical schools continue with a higher technical education.] It was because of these skills that he became a designer and later, a constructor, in a science institute.

He has married twice. His first wife, Valka, was Bulgarian. He has a daughter, Nina, with her. He lived with Valka for ten years before they got divorced. Later he married a colleague of mine, Vanya, a midwife. I introduced them to one another. They liked each other and went to a sweet shop. They got married in 1965. Vanya also has a daughter from her first marriage. The two stepdaughters lived together with Vanya and Fridrich. Vanya actually raised Fridrich’s daughter from his first marriage, who had never lived with her mother. Vanya was a very noble person, yet Fridrich also divorced her due to property arguments.

Zivi was shy, meek, caring and a great housewife. She graduated from the Romanian school [Editor’s note: According to the practice every official religion in the country registered in Sofia after Bulgaria’s Liberation from the Turkish rule in 1878 had the right to support its own school, for example: Armenian church with an Armenian school, Greek church with a Greek school, Catholic church with a Catholic school, etc.]. It was situated behind the Central Synagogue. She was deeply in love with Isak. They went to live with his family a year before they got married.

Isak was a very handsome and ambitious man. His family was poor and as a student he had to both study and work in order to provide for his family. Until the third grade he used to work as a shop assistant and a barber’s assistant. But as ambitious as he was, he finished evening classes and later the Institute of Ecomomics with honor. Finally he became the director of the ‘Stalin’ technical school. Zivi worked for many years as a typist in OJB ‘Shalom’ 10. They have two children: a son, Sabitay and a daughter, Ruth. Isak died in 1981. In 1992 Zivi left for Israel and currently she lives with her daughter.

Apart from my parents, my sisters and brother were also involved in bringing me up. Actually they were the tough ones. They inspected whether my shoes were polished, whether all the buttons were well sewed, whether everything was neatly and tidily put in order. I wasn’t supposed to be late in the evening and had to strictly do everything I was told.

Once a friend of mine took me to a hairdresser. I was 12-13 years old then. When I came home Lili saw me and told me to immediately wash my hair, although I hadn’t even paid for my hairstyle. How strict she was! If I had done everything like I was ordered and supposed to, I was awarded with a small cone of ice-cream; it cost stotinkas [pennies, 1 stotinka = 0.01 lev]. It was my award and it was possible for me to receive it only at the end of the week: on Saturday or Sunday. I often told them that I was going to marry an ice-cream man, because I just love ice-cream, even now.

Fridrich was responsible for the preparation of my lessons. He examined me and checked whether I had learned my lessons. Gizela and Lili worked and all the rest went to school. Thus they supported the family budget. My two sisters dressed very elegantly; after all they worked in a fashion atelier and I wore their clothes. How impatiently I used to wait for Hilda to come home, so that I could wear her coat and go out. I wore all of her clothes with the exception of underwear and shoes, because I had large feet. When I was growing up they used to buy me larger shoes, which often ‘banged.’ Therefore they always made me wear wool socks, in order to fill up the shoes. And Gizela and Lili used to wear silk ones. When the soles tore, we used to cut them and fill them with cardboard and that is how I wore them.

We weren’t poor and we always had something on our table, yet we lived economically. Once a week, Zivi, Hilda and I used to go to the women’s market [one of the first Sofia markets. It was called this way, because its sellers were mostly women from neighboring villages. Other popular markets are: Rimskata Stena [The Roman Wall Market] in Lozenets quarter, as well as ‘Dimitar Petkov’ Market and Pavlovo Market.]. We usually went there late in the afternoon when the sellers lowered the prices. We used to buy meat and sausages from the Dokuzanov butcher’s. We used to buy from the so-called ‘pieces:’ the smaller parts of the big parts, which were cheaper. I would like to mention here that we, the children, didn’t observe the kashrut. Such kind of food was never cooked at home, therefore we felt free to buy meat from Dokuzanov.

At that time in Sofia street-vendors used to sell salep and boza 11. We used to drink salep 12. It was a colorless sweet drink with a very pleasant scent and the thickness of boza, but it was cheaper than boza and we often used to dilute it with water. It was very tasty indeed.

Thanks to the contacts of my two sisters Gizela and Lili, who communicated with the artistic circles, we used to read a lot of fiction books at home. I remember ‘Gone with the Wind’ [by Margaret Mitchell (1900-1949)], and ‘From Heraclitus to Darwin’. I was most interested in the medical books. While the others were playing with dolls I used play ‘doctors and patients.’ I dreamed of healing people.

My parents’ friends were both Jews and Bulgarians. They kept relations with the Jewish community also. A Bulgarian friend of mine, whose name was Victoria, often visited us. She had become part of our family. We used to share everything with each other: we went to the cinema, we studied together, but as soon as we offered her something to eat she always declined the invitation. Only after 9th September [1944] 13 she admitted to us that she had been told that Jews prepared their food with human blood. She felt really sorry about that and about all these missed opportunities to taste our delicious food. My mother used to cook quite well but I can’t say she was a great cook. I don’t remember any of her recipes. The whole family used to gather around the table every evening. At lunchtime we were always busy and we weren’t able to have lunch together.

At that time people visiting your home wasn’t such a common practice as it is now. The most important thing for a housewife was keeping the household and bringing up the children. We were six kids and practically my mother didn’t have any free time at all for meeting with her friends. We used to gather with my maternal family mostly during the high holidays. My mother had two sisters. The elder one, Liza, had four children, and the younger one Erma, had one daughter. Later, during the Holocaust, Erma burned to death in a camp near Pleven [Kailuka camp] 14, set on fire by the Branniks 15, while she was helping to save people.

Liza’s family was richer than ours. Some of her five children had good jobs and earned well. Their family used to live close to us, on Ekzarh Yosif Street. Erma’s family was really well-off. They had a bakery for bread, buns and sweetmeats on Dondukov Street [now Blvd.] and they often used to help us with money and various things. We were closer to aunt Liza’s family and used to walk together in the Borisova Garden [a central Sofia park created by Austrian specialists for Tsar Ferdinand at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century], or used to visit a tripe-shop, and I hate tripe soup.

We didn’t go to restaurants often. Of all siblings Gizela most often visited restaurants, with her friends and admirers. She used to bring home the remains of the large portions. I first went to a restaurant much later with Gizela’s and Lili’s friends, and my two sisters especially warned me not to order too many things. I’ve learned from them that the best meal to order is a portion of kebapcheta.

I used to visit the synagogue on every holiday, but not every Friday. I went with my mother because she was more religious than my father who, being a hatter-trader, used to travel a lot. In the evening or during her spare time she used to read us the Old Testament and told us different biblical stories in a very picturesque way. Tanti [aunt] Liza was religious and on holidays she often visited us with her children. I remember Yom Kippur and the taanit. It was difficult for me to fast, as I was the youngest and I was always tempted to eat something delicious, yet I wouldn’t dare. My mother forbade us and kept an eye on us.

On Pesach we used to move the table from the kitchen to the living-room because there was more space there. Very often at that time Gizela’s friends used to visit us including the Bulgarian ones. They showed great interest in this holiday. They were most interested in matzah, which we used to receive from the Jewish community house or the synagogue for free, as far as I remember. My mother also used to prepare burmolikos 16: crumbled matzah dipped into fresh milk and eggs. This mixture was poured with a spoon in heated oil. My favorite holiday was Chanukkah. I loved the kindling of candles and making a wish. I always wished to become a medical worker and it just happened so.

I must say that our Bulgarian neighbors regularly treated us with Easter cake and eggs on Easter.

Going to school

I studied at a Bulgarian school: the elite 11th secondary school. There were 25-30 students in our class. Five of them were Jews. Our class teacher was called Vassilev. My favorite subjects were Psychology and Logic. I also loved the Religion classes, although we, the Jews, weren’t obliged to take them. Yet I insisted and the teacher allowed me in. It was very interesting for me to listen to various biblical stories from the New Testament.

I remember that my desk neighbor was the cleverest Jewish child at school. His name was Isak. I can’t remember his family name. He wasn’t only clever but also kind and well-bred. So my decision to sit next to him wasn’t accidental. The teachers often praised him, and at such moments some classmates made vicious remarks mentioning his origin. They never showed such negative feelings to the other excellent students, such as Slavka Slavova [Slavova, Slavka (1924-2002): a Bulgarian drama actress, from 1942 till 1992 she performed on the stage of ‘Ivan Vazov’ National Theater], who was among the most exemplary students in our school. Once some Bulgarian pupils even wanted to beat Isak. But how interesting that another Bulgarian student called Hristo interfered and defended him. Maybe he was brought up in this way – to defend the outcasts. But I think that he rather sympathized with the Jews. Later he became a prominent artist. Unfortunately, I can’t remember his family name.

I used to sing in the school choir and often performed on the loudspeaker system. We used to sing a lot of songs, which we performed most often during holidays: ‘Varvi, narode vazrodeni’ [March Ahead, O Revived People] 17, ‘Shumi Maritsa’ [Maritsa Rushes] 18, ‘Chernei, goro’ ['Loom Dark, Forest' - a city folklore song] as well as a bunch of Bulgarian national folk songs.

My relations with the Jewish community were mostly in terms of the Jewish sports organization Maccabi 19. Besides me, its members were 25-30 Jewish boys and girls of different ages. There was a Bulgarian boy in it as well and his name was Lyubcho. ‘Maccabi’ carried out its activities in the gym of the Jewish school on Lavele Street. [In the place of today’s Rila hotel in the center of Sofia, right next to the small church ‘St. Nikolay Chudotvorets’ (Miracle worker) a Jewish school, one of the oldest in Sofia, was situated.] We used to gather two or three times a week in the gym. We were engaged in sports, did Jewish dances; we were brought up in good sportsmanship, and we also went on excursions.

They also supported us materially by means of sports clothes and snacks. Once they gave me money. Very nice relations were encouraged and kept among the Jewish children in Maccabi. I had a lot of friends there: Suzi, Zhak, Lili Yulzari, Sarika, Sheli, with whom I stayed in touch throughout the years. Once a week we used to gather at our houses in turns. Those were overnight stays during which we used to discuss topics from the Jewish history, we sang Jewish songs, I can’t remember which ones, which we learned from the pupils who attended the Jewish school, and we danced.

In our spare time we used to walk in the Borisova Garden with my friends from Maccabi; we also used to go to the cinema. We never spent our vacations outside Sofia and we never went on holiday. We most often went to the cinema. ‘Gloria Palace’ was right opposite our block of apartments. I used to buy tickets in the first row, which were the cheapest ones. I have watched all the movies of Charlie Chaplin. I remember the Soviet films, for example, ‘The Circus Princess.’ [Editor’s note: ‘The Circus Princess’ is an operetta by Hungarian-Jewish composer Emmerich Kálmán (1882-1953). The interviewee is probably referring to the German film adaptation of 1929.] My passion for the cinema lasted until 1942. After that, during the anti-Semitic acts 20, I was afraid to enter the closed room of the cinema hall, because there was no way to escape from it. Thanks to my two elder sisters I used to visit all theater and opera performances for free. I never missed a performance with Gizela’s participation, yet unfortunately it’s hard for me to recall their names.

During the 1940s as young boys and girls, we used to gather in front of the Jewish community house. There were UYW 21 members among them also. In this company I met my big adolescent crush, Rafael Nissimov – Feto. It lasted for four years. After that he got married, but not to me, and later he settled in Israel. At that time he used to live close to the Jewish community house and was an active revolutionary. I fell under his influence and decided to join the UYW. He inspired me to read, to pursue my aims, to be strong.

During the War

In 1942-43 the anti-Semitic acts started and it was then when we put on the badges [yellow stars] 22. I had two long plaits, with which I used to hide my yellow star and thus I walked the streets, and yet it was always visible. Twice Branniks and Legionaries 23 pushed me and pulled my plaits, they didn’t beat me up, but I fell down. The interesting thing was that people immediately came to help. Thrashings often took place in the Borisova Garden, but I always stayed aside.

I remember that a man told us that ‘Jews would be taken’ and we decided to hide at our closest friends’ place. One night my sister and I went to their house but they didn’t open the door, they hid themselves and we had to return home after the curfew.

My noble mother was keen on helping people. She had a disabled friend, I can’t recall her name, whom she often visited in order to help her with the housework and cooking. She lived in Knyazhevo [a suburb of Sofia]. One day when she was coming back from her friend’s place the police checked her documents and found out that she was a Jew. Yet my mother didn’t wear the [yellow] star then for reasons unknown to me. Therefore she was sent to the Somovit camp 24, where she was kept for eight months.

In May 1942 my sister Hilda and I were interned to Karnobat [a town in Southeastern Bulgaria, 300km from Sofia]. My mother was sent to the labor camp in Somovit. Liza, Zivi, Gizela and her son Alex were sent to Vratsa, while Fridrich was sent to a forced labor camp 24. My father was already in Israel [Palestine at that time].

In Karnobat all Jews were allocated and settled in local Jews’ houses. They were scattered all over the town. We used to inhabit a large house with three other families. Asya and Olya Weisberg were in one of the rooms; Rafael Nissim’s aunt and cousin were in the other room and my sister Hilda and I were in the third. The landlords, also Jews, helped her a lot with furniture and food.

The life in Karnobat was like in a ghetto. There was a curfew and certain streets and places were forbidden for Jews. We didn’t have the right to leave the town. We weren’t allowed to work. We were given food from a cauldron. During the [police] blockade of Karnobat in which outlaws were hunted for, they not only broke into the Jewish houses and sought for people in hiding places but also robbed canteens, rucksacks and clothes.

We used to gather in the small park, where we walked and sang songs, but I can’t remember exactly which ones. I helped the landlords mainly with the household, because we were restricted from walking around. [At that time] I wasn’t a part of a UYW group and I wasn’t engaged in UYW activities.

One day Feto came to visit me and we went out for a walk to some hills. There we came across a man, who said that he knew a lot of things about Feto and me, and that he would give us away to the police. Feto pushed me and said to me, ‘Run.’ I ran down the hills shouting ‘Help, help!’ The two of them fought. In the end the man took Feto’s watch.

After that incident the head of the Jewish organization in Karnobat came to me and told me that I had to leave the town, as I was already rumored to be a dangerous political enemy and that would be of harm for the other Jews in Karnobat. He obtained permission from the town’s police for leaving the town and thus I found myself in Lukovit [Northwestern Bulgaria, 90km from Sofia].

I spent the time from spring 1943 to 9th September 1944 in this town. My mother was already in Lukovit, she was sent there from the Somovit camp, as well as my brother, who had come from the forced labor camps. My mother was accommodated in the priest’s lodging and instead of the rent, which most of the interned Jews were supposed to pay; she took care of him and helped him in the household. Being true to her selflessness and kind-hearted, she helped him with the housework and took care of an ill Jewish woman; I can’t remember her name.

Many rich Jewish families were interned from Stara Zagora [Central Bulgaria, 192km from Sofia] to Lukovit also. They rented more luxurious lodgings, they were elegant and they didn’t want to mingle with the poorer ones, especially if they had found out that those people were leftists or had been arrested or sanctioned by the authorities because of their leftist convictions. Life here was also like in a ghetto. There was a curfew and a ban to cross certain streets or places. We were fed from a cauldron, but a much better one.

I was engaged in a UYW group here. We used to gather at Mutsi’s place: the girlfriend of the well-known revolutionary Moni Dekalo. Her family was rich and this fact dispersed the police suspicions. We used to read books, write and prepare ourselves to spread leaflets, listened to Radio London, we were taught how to use a gun, we collected clothes and rusks and invented ways to send them to our friends detained in the police station.

There was a [Bulgarian Communist] Party group in the town, too. My brother Fridrich was a member of it. I was involved in an underground activity, I hid and distributed leaflets and if I have to be honest, I was always afraid. Once I went out in the yard of the priest’s house in order to fetch some firewood for the stove. Suddenly I saw some kind of light among the trees and I was scared to death. I quickly returned to the priest’s house. Then Priest Nikola accompanied me in order to check the situation and it turned out to be just a firefly. So these are the eyes of fear. Although fear never actually left me, I have never broken the [Communist] Party discipline.

Once I was told to bring some materials, leaflets, to the girlfriend of a [Communist] Party functionary, in order to hide them there. When I went there she refused to take them, because she said she was under surveillance and this could be dangerous for other communists also. So I had to return with the leaflets but I never thought, even for moment, that I might destroy them. I simply knew I had to find a place for them.

When there was an alarm to hide in the air-raid shelter because of the bombardments, we used to run through some hills. Several Brannik members used to block our way then, but immediately other Bulgarians stopped them telling them that all people, no matter if Bulgarians or Jews, had the right to hide in the shelters.

In Lukovit I was arrested. Firstly Moni Dekalo was arrested and as he didn’t want to betray the more superior comrades, he gave us away, the smaller fish. I was sought for several days. When the police examined the lodging I was accommodated at, they couldn’t find me. My mother hid me for several days in the place of the ill woman she was helping, but I couldn’t stay there for a long time, so I had to come back home and I was arrested at my place. When the policemen were taking me away, she only told me, ‘God will help you. Put on warm clothes, so that when they beat you, you will be able to survive the pain.’

I was arrested and they led me under an escort in the streets. The whole town of Lukovit saw me, including the priest. I was confronted with Moni Dekalo. When they brought him in he was covered with blood. He only said that everything was disclosed. But in the corridors of the police station I passed by my brother and another comrade of his, who gestured with his hand to keep quiet. I was beaten up but not the way they had beaten my brother, for example. I was detained for two days. I didn’t say anything.

On the second day the priest came in order to intercede for me. He couldn’t believe that the girl with the plaits was involved in underground activities. Priest Nikola was a reputable man in Lukovit and thanks to him I was set free on the second day. Yet soon after that he realized that it wasn’t a slander and that my brother and I were involved in underground activities indeed and he threw us out in the street with all our luggage. His daughters begged him to leave us, yet he was adamant. He couldn’t cope with the thought that he was hiding communists. One of his daughters helped us find a room in the house of a gendarme. It was with an earth floor, isolated from the other parts of the house. We paid minimum rent and took care of the garden in the yard. I had to look for a job and found one in a bookshop. I was a typesetter.

The bookseller-owner was called Pencho Vlahov. His wife was German and her name was Ani. One day while I was at work the agent who had arrested me entered the bookshop. I immediately recognized him because his face was covered with pockmarks. The bookseller had told me to go and fetch something. There were a lot of people in the bookshop. I can only imagine how I looked when I came back after I had seen the agent. Pencho noticed my reaction yet he deliberately didn’t pay attention to it. He knew that I had been taken into custody for two days. The whole town of Lukovit knew. Of course, it was a great worry for my mother, but she also shared my leftist ideas without being a [Communist] Party member. She always supported me and calmed me down.

At that time my sister Zivi gave birth in Vratsa. My mother asked for permission from the police to go there and see her grandchild. I was afraid to stay alone and asked the bookseller Pencho to shelter me in his house. In return I would help raising his two children, as well as in keeping the household. I was accommodated in a closet.

One evening I heard a strong drumming on the door. I thought they were coming to arrest me again. I kept some leaflets in the closet. While all the rest were in the other room I hid the leaflets under the wardrobe in the bedroom. They weren’t coming for me. They just asked the bookseller to borrow his car, as they wanted to meet some boss. He refused, telling them that the tyres were punctured. The next day the family saw the leaflets. The German asked me to clean all the rooms and she went out with her two children so that I would be able to hide the leaflets again. And yet, she was German!

After the War

After the war we came back to Sofia. We rented a new lodging on Moskovska Street and 11th August Street. First we were given one room 26. All of us were accommodated in it: my mother, Fridrich, Hilda, Lili and I. Zivi had already married and she stayed with her husband. Gizela and her husband also rented a house somewhere but I can’t remember where. Nothing had remained from our belongings. We began collecting old furniture from our friends: Jews and Bulgarians, which they presented to us. We had a landlady. She was quite unmanageable and she didn’t behave very well. But not because we were Jews but because of her temper. Her daughter was very kind to us.

Life had a new beginning. I decided to make my dream come true: to cure and take care of people. I enrolled into nursing classes. My family wanted me to become a doctor yet this seemed very difficult for me. In the medical vocational school, where I graduated from, I made many new friends. I had a colleague, very beautiful, from the village of Buzovets [Northwestern Bulgaria, 107 km from Sofia]. She introduced me to my future husband, who was born in the same village. She decided to take me for a holiday there. For the first time in my life I not only visited a village but traveled in a certain direction. In order to reach the place I had to change trains. When I entered the railway station I didn’t know how to ask for the tickets. Otherwise the holiday in the village was a very merry one. We danced various dances and horo [Bulgarian national folk dance], we sang, we ate and we laughed. My future husband Yoncho Lazarov was also present there. This experience made our relationship even closer and more spontaneous.

My husband was born on 1st November 1920. His father was a disabled soldier, but his entire family: father, mother, brother and sister used to work in the TKZS 26. His family is of Bulgarian origin and with leftist convictions. During the anti-fascist struggle Yoncho was in prison in Sliven [Southeast Bulgaria, 246km South of Sofia]. After 9th September [1944] he was already a [Communist] Party member. He had already finished his studies in veterinary medicine; nevertheless he received an order by the Bulgarian Communist Party [BCP] to make a military career, because of the insufficient military personnel in the army.

We got married in April 1948. My parents, i.e. my mother and my sisters were a little prejudiced against my marriage, because Yoncho was of Bulgarian origin and was a military man, which meant a lot of traveling. None of my or his relatives was present at our wedding, which took place in the Civic Council. We only took our passports and we went there. Some military men, colleagues of my husband, were witnesses to our wedding. After the ceremony they invited us to lunch.

Afterward all of us lived in our apartment on Moskovska Street. My mother quickly ‘fell in love’ with her new son-in-law. They got along very well. Later she raised both my children. When we were in Sofia she used to live with us. And when we were on a trip to the countryside, as Yoncho often traveled, she stayed at my sisters’ and brother’s.

When we lived on Moskovska Street we were given one more room, something like a living room with a sliding glass door. In 1948 our first child, Orlin, was born. We still lived on Moskovska, but we filed an application for another home. Then we were given an apartment on Vrabcha Street. Then we had to leave for Razgrad [Northeastern Bulgaria, 277km from Sofia] because of Yoncho’s job, where our second child, Vanya, was born in 1952. After that we went to Kabiyuka: an elite horse breeding company in Shumen [Northeastern Bulgaria, 301km from Sofia]. Yoncho was invited as a head doctor there. There he learned that there was a competition for a scientific degree at the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences. He enrolled in it and passed the test, so we came back to Sofia again. He worked there until his retirement and now he’s a Professor in Physiology.

After I graduated from the medical vocational school I worked as a nurse in the Fourth City Surgery. I started there and retired there. In 1954 I became a member of the Bulgarian Communist Party. There was a call at that time for the former UYW members to become BCP members. I used to be a BCP functionary and a deputy BCP secretary at the hospital. I was also the chairwoman of the Democratic Youth Committee. I have never had any problems because of my Jewish origin at my workplace. On the contrary, I was much respected for it.

After we began living separately from our children we used to spend our vacations and holidays in the mountain and at the sea at holiday villages. We celebrated all holidays: the Bulgarian, Christmas and Easter, and the Jewish ones. I buried my mother in the Jewish cemetery [in Sofia] in 1971 in accordance with the Jewish ritual. While my mother-in-law was buried in accordance with the Bulgarian traditions.

Our children were both raised with Jewish awareness, which means that they know facts from the Jewish people’s history and they know some of the Jewish traditions, and a Bulgarian one. Orlin graduated from the ‘Hristo Botev’ radio and television vocational school. He used to work in the Isotope Center. Today he owns a copier service company. He married a Bulgarian. Her name is Kalina Andonova. They have three children: Orlin, Toni and Yoncho, and a granddaughter, Ela. They live in Sofia.

My daughter Vanya also married a Bulgarian. His name is Emil Kostov. He is a roentgenologist. After graduating from a medical college, Vanya worked for a while as a laboratory assistant in the Institute for Infectious and Parasitic Diseases. Currently she lives in Angola with her family. They have two children, Andrea and Katerina, and a granddaughter, Alicia.

The Jewish self-identification is less revealed in our grandchildren. We did invite them to Jewish holidays, but they celebrate Christmas and Easter in their own environment. Whether my kids and grandkids feel like Jews or not, they have always participated in various initiatives of the Jewish community center.

I visited Israel three times: in 1961, 1966 and 1989. I went to see my relatives there. I have never had difficulties as far as Bulgarian state authorities are concerned in terms of my trips to Israel. Nor did I want to emigrate there, because my husband is a Bulgarian. Moreover Ivrit is a difficult language for me. Yet being there has always been very pleasant for me. I took to heart the Six-Day-War 28 and every event in Israel; moreover the official political line of the government here was anti-Israeli. Yet, politics is politics. The most interesting thing is that my husband supported me and suffered with me through everything that happened in Israel.

After 1989 29 we embraced the desire for democratic changes as something positive. But in the course of time I started feeling more and more embarrassed about this confrontation between socialists and rightists. Apart from the fact that our life is getting worse. I don’t approve the extremist acts such as setting fire to the Communist Party House and the Parliament 30.

As a whole our daily life became harder. Once we could allow ourselves to go on vacation, now it’s completely impossible due to financial reasons. When Yoncho used to work in the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences 31 we used to get together with his colleagues, no matter if Bulgarian or Jewish. Now we are leading a rather isolated life. Yoncho writes his books and scientific works, while I am engaged in the Jewish community center. I managed to incorporate him into the Jewish community, as a result of which he became more sociable and sort of came out of his private world.

I’m glad that the Jewish home [Bet Am] 32 revived its activities and raised the Jewish conscience to a higher level. I regularly attend the events there. What’s more, I actively participate in the life of the Jewish community, as I’m involved in all the events of the Health Club, which I’m a member of, as well as the Club of the disabled people. [The Club of disabled people gathers once a month in order for them to socialize with each other. They are informed about all changes in the social sphere and the Bulgarian legislation, which are focused on people with different levels of disability. With the support of this club Jews are able to visit sanatoriums once a year. All the expenses for their stay are being covered by the organization.] I visit the synagogue during holidays. I’m grateful for the compensations I received from Switzerland and Germany, as well as for the support of the Joint foundation 33.

Family background
Growing up
During the War
After the War

1 First Balkan War (1912-1913)

Started by an alliance made up of Bulgaria, Greece, Serbia, and Montenegro against the Ottoman Empire. It was a response to the Turkish nationalistic policy maintained by the Young Turks in Istanbul. The Balkan League aimed at the liberation of the rest of the Balkans still under Ottoman rule. In October, 1912 the allies declared war on the Ottoman Empire and were soon successful: the Ottomans retreated to defend Istanbul and Albania, Epirus, Macedonia and Thrace fell into the hands of the allies. The war ended on 30th May 1913 with the Treaty of London, which gave most of European Turkey to the allies and also created the Albanian state.

2 Second Balkan War (1913)

The victorious countries of the First Balkan War (Bulgaria, Greece and Serbia) were unable to settle their territorial claims over the newly acquired Macedonia by peaceful means. Serbia and Greece formed an alliance against Bulgaria and the war began on 29th June 1913 with a Bulgarian attack on Serbian and Greek troops in Macedonia. Bulgaria's northern neighbor, Romania, also joined the allies and Bulgaria was defeated. The Treaty of Bucharest was signed on 10th August 1913. As a result, most of Macedonia was divided up between Greece and Serbia, leaving only a small part to Bulgaria (Pirin Macedonia). Romania also acquired the previously Bulgarian region of southern Dobrudzha.

3 Bulgaria in World War I

Bulgaria entered the war in October 1915 on the side of the Central Powers. Its main aim was the revision of the Treaty of Bucharest: the acquisition of Macedonia. Bulgaria quickly overran most of Serbian Macedonia as well as parts of Serbia; in 1916 with German backing it entered Greece (Western Thrace and the hinterlands of Salonika). After Romania surrendered to the Central Powers Bulgaria also recovered Southern Dobrudzha, which had been lost to Romania after the First Balkan War. The Bulgarian advance to Greece was halted after British, French and Serbian troops landed in Salonika, while in the north Romania joined the Allies in 1916. Conditions at the front deteriorated rapidly and political support for the war eroded. The agrarians and socialist workers intensified their antiwar campaigns, and soldier committees were formed in the army. A battle at Dobro Pole brought total retreat, and in ten days the Allies entered Bulgaria. On 29th September 1918 Bulgaria signed an armistice and withdrew from the war. The Treaty of Neuilly (November 1919) imposed by the Allies on Bulgaria, deprived the country of its World War I gains as well as its outlet to the Aegean Sea (Eastern Thrace).

4 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 the Aegean Thrace and from Macedonia, but in the end, the Jews from Bulgaria proper were spared.

5 Iuchbunar

The poorest residential district in Sofia; the word is of Turkish origin and means 'the three wells.'

6 Chitalishte

Literally 'a place to read'; a community and an institution for public enlightenment carrying a supply of books, holding discussions and lectures, performances etc. The first such organizations were set up during the period of the Bulgarian National Revival (18th and 19th century) and were gradually transformed into cultural centers in Bulgaria. Unlike in the 1930s, when the chitalishte network could maintain its activities for the most part through its own income, today, as during the communist regime, they are mainly supported by the state. There are over 3,000 chitalishtes in Bulgaria today, although they have become less popular.

7 Smirnenski, Hristo Dimitrov Izmirliev (1898-1923)

Bulgarian poet and writer. Lived and worked in the Jewish neighborhood Iuchbunar. He made his literary debut in 1915 during his second year at college in the satirical newspaper 'K'vo da e' ('Anything Goes'). Hristo first called himself 'Smirnenski' in the magazine 'Smyah I sulzi' ('Laughter and Tears'). His hard tireless work and deprivations undermined the 25-year-old poet's health and he died on 18th June 1923 from tuberculosis, 'the yellow visitor,' as he called the disease in one of his poems. In the eight brief years of his prolific career Hristo Smirnenski penned thousands of pieces of poetry and prose in various genres using more than 70 pseudonyms.

8 Botev, Hristo (1847-1876)

Bulgarian poet and revolutionary; a national hero of the Bulgarian National Revival. Died a heroic death in the western part of the Bulgarian Range as a voevode (leader) of 200 rebels who had set out to die for the liberation of their enslaved Fatherland.

9 Vaptsarov, Nikola (1909-1942)

Born in the town of Bansko, Vaptsarov ranks among Bulgaria's most prominent proletarian poets of the interwar period. His most well known volume of poetry is 'Motoring Verses'. Vaptsarov was shot in Sofia on 23rd July 1942.

10 Shalom Organization

Organization of the Jews in Bulgaria. It is an umbrella organization uniting 8,000 Jews in Bulgaria and has 19 regional branches. Shalom supports all forms of Jewish activities in the country and organizes various programs.

11 Boza

A sweet wheat-based mildly alcoholic drink popular in Bulgaria, Turkey and other places in the Balkans.

12 Salep

A refreshing drink also known as 'meshano.' These are actually highly concentrated sweet syrups with different flavors, which are watered down with soda water nowadays, and with water, citric acid or baking soda in the past. The salep vendors used to go with special cans on their backs and poured the drink into cups.

13 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.

14 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.

15 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.

16 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.

17 'Varvi, narode vazrodeni' (Go forward revival population)

Hymn of Bulgarian enlightenment and culture, dedicated to the Holy Brothers St. Cyril and St. Methodius. It was written by the writer Stoyan Mikhailovski (lyrics) and the composer Panayot Pipkov (music). It was first performed in public on 11th May 1900 (the day of the Holy Brothers St. Cyril and St. Methodius). Since then Bulgarian students sing it on every 24th May - the day of Slavic script and culture.

18 ‘Maritsa Rushes’

National anthem of the Kingdom of Bulgaria from 1886 to 1944. The author of the text is the Veles teacher Nikola Zhivkov. In 1912 the text was edited by Ivan Vazov. Originally a song of the Bulgarian National Revival period sung by rebels of Philip Totyu's band, it was later sung during the Russian-Turkish Liberation War by the Bulgarian volunteers in the battles at Shipka and Sheinovo. During the Serbian-Bulgarian War in 1885 it was sung as a battle song by Bulgarian soldiers. In 1886 it was adopted as national anthem.

19 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.

20 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.

21 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.

22 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.

23 Bulgarian Legions

Union of the Bulgarian National Legions. Bulgarian fascist movement, established in 1930. Following the Italian model it aimed at building a corporate totalitarian state on the basis of military centralism. It was dismissed in 1944 after the communist take-over.

24 Somovit camp

The camp in the village of Somovit was a Jewish concentration camp created in 1943. The camp was supposed to accept Jews that didn't obey the rules and regulations decreed by the Law for the Protection of the Nation. It existed until 1st April 1944 when it was gradually moved to the 'Tabakova Cheshma' [Tabakova's Fountain] terrain following an order of the Commissariat for Jewish Affairs. After a fire broke out there, it was moved to the 'Kailuka' terrain, 4 km from the town of Pleven. After a protest demonstration of the Jews on 24th May 1943 against the attempts on the part of Bogdan Filov's government to deport the Jews outside the country, about 80 Jews from Sofia were sent to the Somovit camp.

25 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.

26 Sofia residency

In the years between 1944 and 1990 it was difficult to get a residence in the Bulgarian capital of Sofia. In accordance with the Bulgarian law at that time the place of one's residence could not easily be changed. Those with no residence permit in Sofia were not allowed to live there permanently (only temporarily, being a university student, for example). After the political changes in 1989 these restrictions were removed.

27 TKZS

(Literally 'labor cooperative agricultural farm') A co-operative farm of socialist type, an agricultural organization in which all means of production (with the exception of land, which was nationalized and state property) were public and cooperative property. This form of managing the land was legalized in 1945 and existed until 1992, when after the political change of 1989 the new Law on Property returned the land to its previous owners.

28 Six-Day-War

29 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.

30 Bulgarian Communist Party building set on fire

In the summer of 1991 the former Bulgarian Communist Party House in which the entire party machine of the Central Committee of the Bulgarian Communist Party (CC of the BCP) was placed, was set on fire by a mob. The building is situated in the center of Sofia. It was constructed at the end of the 1950s in the form of a 5-angle building with a high dome, which in the years of Communism was crowned with a red star. The building on Malko Turnovo Street, where the reception room of the CC of the BCP was situated, was damaged, as well as the back wall of the house itself. The reconstruction of the buildings took several years and the house was placed at the disposal of the National Assembly for the purpose of different commissions.

31 Bulgarian Academy of Sciences

Established in 1911 by law. A successor to the Bulgarian Literary Association established in Braila (Romania) in 1869. The body of the Academy includes various scientific research institutes.

32 Bet Am

The Jewish center in Sofia today, housing all Jewish organizations.

33 Joint (American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee)

The Joint was formed in 1914 with the fusion of three American Jewish committees of assistance, 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 cultural amenities and brought 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 Europe and from 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.

Emilia Kushnir

Emilia Kushnir
Kiev
Ukraine
Interviewer: Vladimir Zaidenberg

My name is Emilia Iosifovna Kushnir. My maiden name was Leibman. I was
born on December 16, 1924 in Kiev, at 3, Vladimirskaya Street, where I
lived until the beginning of WW II.

Family background

My father, Yosif Yefimovich Leibman, was born in 1884 in the town of
Radomyshl, in the Zhitomir region. I know practically nothing about his
parents. I only know that my grandfather's name was Khaim Leibman and
grandmother's name was Surah-Milka. I don't know her maiden name.

I remember the names of my father's sisters and brothers, and I have
some information about them. Father's eldest brother, Moisey Leibman, was a
bookkeeper. Until the Revolution he lived in Warsaw, and then he worked at
a brewery in Kiev. He was killed in 1941 in Babi Yar in Kiev. (Editor's
Note: Babi Yar was the location of the first mass shooting of the Jewish
population carried out openly by the Germans on September 29-30, 1941, in
Kiev. After the war, people spoke in whispers about Jewish murders, because
according to the official version of the Soviet government, the German
Nazis killed Soviet people of different nationalities in equal numbers.
Whoever expressed another opinion risked being thrown into prison.)

My father had two sisters named Leah and Esfir who died in Moscow in
the early 1930's. I know nothing more about them. Then my father was born
and after him his sister Klara and brother Wolf. The three of them came to
Warsaw to live with their brother Moisey around 1910. They stayed there;
the brothers were working in commerce. In general, Moisey was very smart,
and he tried to teach his relatives accountancy. Then Klara and her
husband, as well as Wolf, moved to the United States, where they died in
the 1940's. The youngest sibling was father's sister Manya, who died in
Kiev early in the 1950's, and his brother Tevye, who lived in Zhitomir and
then in Moscow, where he also died.

My mother's father, Shloyme Shenderovich, came from a very large
family with many children. He had brothers named Zalman, Yakov, and Israel
(all younger than him), and sisters named Tsira Frenkel, Fanya Katsnelson,
Basya Gukhman, and Nesya Babinskaya. About them I know only that Aunt Basya
lived and died in Baku, Azerbaijan, and Aunt Nesya died in 1974 in Kiev at
the age of 90.

They all lived in Belarus and my grandfather's mother let my
grandfather run the business his father had owned. I think he was the 1st
Guild merchant. After his death, responsibility for all their large family
rested on the shoulders of my grandfather, Shloyme Shenderovich.

The name of my grandmother, my father's mother, was Dvoira
Shenderovich. I don't know her maiden name. When I was born, my
grandparents were very old. My grandfather was born around 1863, my
grandmother around 1865.

My mother, Fanya Solomonovna Shenderovich, was born in 1896 in
Belarus, in the village of Kholmichi, near Rechitsy. Today it is known as
the Gomel region. Her parents also had many children. My grandfather was
not a fanatic, but he was a religious man. In Kiev they did not have a flat
of their own, they rented a room at 11, Borisoglebskaya. I remember
grandfather praying every morning. He put on his talit and those boxes on
ropes, I forgot their names (Editor's note: tefillin). He also wore a
yarmulke. My grandmother wore an artificial braid with a black lace cap to
keep her head always covered according to the Jewish religious tradition.
My grandfather died in 1937, my grandmother in 1939.

To all his children grandfather gave a secular education. I don't know
how to explain it, but none of his children was religious. My mother had
very poor knowledge of Yiddish; she knew very little, enough only to talk
to her parents.

Now about my mother's brothers and sisters. Her eldest sister was
named Rebecca. Her husband's last name was Kagan. She graduated from a
college of dentistry. Prior to the Revolution, her husband was a doctor in
Kharkov. After the Revolution he held high offices in Kharkov's health care
system. They had three children. She died in Kharkov in the early 1950's.

My mother also had a sister named Polina, and I would like to talk
about her separately. Then there came mother's sister Tsira, whose
husband's last name was Israelit. Tsira was a teacher in Leningrad. She
died in the early 1950'-s.

Then came mother's brother Alexander, who was born in 1897. Prior to
the Revolution he finished studies at a vocational school and worked in the
supply system. He died in 1952 in Donetsk (Stalino).

The youngest brother was named Srul. He was very ill with tuberculosis
of the bones. As far as I remember, he never worked, but was constantly
ill. He died in the evacuation in 1942.

Now I would like to talk about mother's sister Polina. She was born in
1884. As I already said, grandfather taught his children secular manners
and gave them an education. Sister Polya (nickname for Polina) went into
the Revolution. First she joined the BUND party. (Editor's note: BUND,
which means "Union" in Yiddish, was a Jewish political organization created
in 1897 at the Constituent Congress of Jewish Social Democratic Groups in
Vilno. At the 1st Congress of the Russian Social-Democratic Workers' Party,
BUND joined the party as an autonomous organization, which was independent
only in questions concerning the Jewish proletariat. After some conflicts
in 1903, BUND withdrew from that party and joined the Zionist movement
"Poaley Tsion." BUND demanded that a cultural-national autonomy be created.
In March 1921, BUND decided to join the Russian Communist Party of
Bolsheviks, which led to its self-elimination.) That's what Polina told me
personally when I met her much later. From what I remember, the family
mentioned that the police were searching for her, and that she emigrated
after some case and was secretly sent to Switzerland.

When she emigrated, Polina joined various revolutionary circles which
met to discuss what the future revolution would be like. Among the members
were many emigrants from Russia. The main one was Plekhanov. (Editor's
note: Georgy Plekhanov, 1856-1918, was a Russian theoretician and
propagandist of Marxism, and an activist in the Russian and international
workers' movement. They addressed him for any issues, but he was very
arrogant, behaving like a royal, and believed everyone should act on
his/her own.) Polina also met Martov (Editor's note: Martov's real name was
Yuliy Tsederbaum, 1879-1923, a Russian Social Democrat, and one of the
Mensheviks' leaders). She also met Akselrod, and I think she was a friend
of his sisters. (Editor's note: Pavel Akselrod, 1850-1928, was one of the
Mensheviks' leaders who emigrated after the October Revolution. He
propagated reforms, stood against the Soviet power, and even called for
military intervention.) In those circles she also met Lenin. (Editor's
note: Vladimir Lenin, 1870-1924, whose real name was Vladimir Ulyanov, was a proletarian
revolutionary, organizer of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, and
founder of the Soviet Union). In their midst they called him an "iron
head," because they believed he always knew what he wanted. When he was
leaving for Russia, all the emigrants went to see him off at the train
station. He was late. Finally, he showed up - he had been shopping, looking
for a cheap cap.

Later, in 1912, Lenin and Krupskaya lived in Poland. (Editor's note:
Lenin's wife, Nadezhda Krupskaya, 1869-1939, was a participant in the
revolutionary movement, a Soviet state and party figure, and one of
creators of the Soviet system of people's education.) Krupskaya had
Basedow's disease and needed surgery. Meanwhile, in Switzerland there was a
famous Professor Kokhe, in whose clinic my Aunt Polina was then working.
So, somebody introduced her to Lenin and asked her to arrange a free
operation for Krupskaya. The professor performed this operation free of
charge, and in gratitude Lenin brought a box of candies and a bouquet of
red roses to my aunt.

At first, my aunt's life in Switzerland was very hard; even my
grandfather helped her. Then she graduated from a university, became an
oculist and withdrew from revolutionary activities. She was very concerned,
because being an immigrant she had no right to work in Switzerland, so she
was planning to go to Australia. But then she suddenly met her future
husband, who was an Italian Swiss; his last name was Rusko. She became very
rich. They lived in Lokarno and she had her own clinic. Then for many years
she was an activist in the Red Cross organization. Once, when fascists came
to power in Germany, even a Soviet ambassador turned to her, asking to tell
him about good places for recreation in Switzerland, where the Soviets
could send their leaders for a rest. They used to send them to Germany, but
they no longer could afford that.

After the Revolution, from what I remember, Aunt Polina tried to help
my grandparents survive. They lived a pretty good lifestyle with the money
she sent them from Switzerland. They could even help us sometimes. On
Hannukah they gave good gifts to all the children; my cousin who lived in
Kiev even got a violoncello. In summer they always went to a dacha in
Puscha-Voditsy or Vorzel - they could afford it due to my aunt's help.

In 1924, my aunt came to the USSR. Despite the fact that all
diplomatic relations with Switzerland were broken because of the murder of
Voikov. (Editor's note: Peter Voikov, 1888-1927, was an active participant
in the revolutionary movement in Russia, and a Soviet diplomat. He was
killed by a Russian White Guard officer.) Aunt Polina used her old
connections with the German Communists and received permission to come here
for a ten-day visit. She saw all of her relatives here. She left with a
heavy heart after having seen her old and exhausted parents. Before that,
in Switzerland, she had worried very much that she would not be allowed to
leave from here again.

After that she regularly sent money in foreign currency to my
grandparents through the bank. It became even better when in 1932 a special
trade system opened where food and clothes could be bought for foreign
currency and gold, because there was famine in those days which lasted
until 1938. My grandfather had already died. Then Aunt Polina sent clothes
and fabric through some company in Estonia or Latvia. Then communication
with her was interrupted for many years.

After finishing gymnasium (secondary school) during WW I, my mother
worked in a hospital. Then she gained admission to the University medical
school, but did not complete her studies. She was already in Kiev, but I
don't know how they got to Kiev. I know she married in Kiev, gave birth to
me and had complications - hearing problems. So after that she no longer
studied or worked outside the home, but was a housewife.

My family background
Growing up in Plovdiv
Our religious life
My life in Sofia
During the war
My return to Sofia
My first husband
My second husband
Glossary

My childhood was one typical of all Soviet children - kindergarten,
school and war.

I went to school in 1931. It was a regular Russian school. It replaced our
former Jewish school at 5, Vladimirskaya Street (one of the central streets
of Kiev), near our house. Until 1935, there was a Jewish school next to
us, then it was closed, and its director became director of our school for
some time. I don't know why that school was closed. You see, we were all
internationalists; we did not care who was Russian, Jewish or Ukrainian.
Our school was mixed - boys and girls studied together. There were Jewish
children in our class, but no one cared. There was, however, a Russian
family in our house. People were forbidden to celebrate New Year's or
decorate New Year trees (In the Soviet Union, people never celebrated
Christmas, but rather New Year's on January 1, hence people had "New Year
trees" instead of "Christmas trees"). I don't remember what year it was
when Postyshev allowed people to celebrate the New Year. (Editor's note:
Pavel Postyshev, 1887-1939, was a Soviet Communist Party activist). So,
this family invited me to celebrate either New Year or Christmas with them.
And the rest of our neighbors were surprised that they would invite me, a
Jew.

My best friends were Russians. We are still in very good relationships
with them. I certainly could understand Yiddish a little because I often
visited with my grandparents. I remember Jewish holidays well: Passover and
Rosh Hashana. We would go to Podol, to my grandparents, where we sat around
the table eating stuffed fish and chicken soup and drinking grape wine.
They baked matzoh at home. After grandfather's death, grandmother did not
go to synagogue, but to a private prayer house next to her house. And after
her death, traditions were no longer kept. We only visited father's elder
brother, who still kept the traditions.

I had a good time at school. I was a Young Pioneer, then a Komsomol
member. I was a Pioneer Leader, taking care of younger children. We
organized all kinds of activities, had an amateur theater, sang, danced,
etc.. Life was bubbling.

I had no religious friends, only atheists. I remember how churches
were destroyed. There was the Desyatinnaya Church across from my house. We
all were warned that it would be blown up; all the windows were sealed up
with paper. It was blown up in 1936, and all of us adults believed that
this was normal. Excavations were held there later and an ancient cemetery
was found. Then a historical museum was built on that site. I also remember
how St. Michael's Cathedral was blown up.

In the 1930's I remember that some people were arrested, including my
maternal uncle, Alexander Shenderovich, born in 1897, who was arrested as a
White Guard officer. I don't know exactly whether he really was in the
White Army, maybe during the Civil War. I don't know why, but when my aunt
was allowed to visit him in prison, she took me with her. I remember how he
was led out to us and we could visit with him. Soon afterwards he was
released and I remember how he came home with a tiny bag.

I remember how the father of one girl was arrested. He worked in
Soviet People's Committee. Then another girl's father, a military man, was
also arrested, but these girls continued to study at our class. We treated
them well, saying that their fathers were enemies of the nation. But people
did not have real hatred against such people because secretly nobody
believed they were "enemies of the nation."

Even though my friends and I were not interested in politics, we
certainly knew about Hitler and "Crystal Night." There was information on
it in the press. We went to watch movies like "Professor Mamlok" and
"Oppenhaim Family".

Nobody paid any special attention to this at school. We were
constantly preparing for a war. I remember the Finnish War a little, in
1940, when we had to stand in lines for food. It was hard, cold and long.
And then the Ribbentrop-Molotov Pact was signed. We believed it was for the
good, so that there would be no war. In general we did not think much about
it. We were confident that the Germans would be stopped immediately at the
border. We even sang songs to this effect. The breakup of the war found me
in Kharkov, where I was visiting my aunt. I remember we received a phone
call and were told to turn on the radio at 12 o'clock. Our radio was a big
black plate. So, we turned it on and heard Molotov's address to the nation.
My uncle was very anxious because his son was serving in Izmail (in the
Odessa region of Ukraine), and combat actions were already underway there.
To be honest, we immediately ran to the savings bank to get our money, but
restrictions had already been put on the giving out of money. I stayed in
Kharkov until early July. Kharkov was not bombed yet, while Kiev was bombed
all the time. My uncle often called us and said, "We are coming soon."

During the War

Then we began to see many evacuated residents of Western Ukraine. I
remember my cousin with her child came to Kharkov and told us that many
people were moving out of Kiev. My uncle tried to tell us the same thing on
the phone but secretly, saying that he and his family wanted to come and
see us. Otherwise he could have been accused of spreading panic.

My mother and her two brothers left Kiev for Kharkov, but they went
on a raft across Dneper and got to Dnepropetrovsk. There was my uncle's
organization, which was evacuating some cranes, metal constructions, etc.
They all were put on an open platform and sent to Sverdlovsk. It happened
so that they were passing by Kharkov, and they asked somebody to go and get
me. So, I joined them and we went to Sverdlovsk together. The journey took
twenty days.

We were in a tall, roofless train car. There were a lot of metal
constructions on the floor, and a tent stood upon them. That's where we
stayed. My uncle had a paper that said that we were in charge of the cargo.
That's how my mother and I were reunited.

My father remained in Kiev. He had to turn over his duties. In
general, there was no special Jewish evacuation. Enterprises and
organizations were evacuated, but nobody was going to evacuate the Jews.
There were people who did not believe Germans would kill the Jews. A family
from our house stayed in Kiev. They believed nobody would touch them. They
died in Babi Yar. My uncle, Moisey Leibman, was also killed there. His
former wife and older daughter came to visit him from Korosten. All three
of them died in Babi Yar - it was too late for them to evacuate.

Right before our departure from Kharkov we went to a theater
performance. During the war Michoelse's theater came there, and we watched
"The Wandering Stars."

When we came to Sverdlovsk we were not received there but sent
further on. Thus we found ourselves in a village 12 kilometers from
Krasnoufimsk. We had my mother's cousin, Nadezhda Babinskaya, with us. She
was a violinist at the Kiev Jewish Theater. Her daughter, a conservatory
student and a violoncellist, was also there. For both of them life was very
hard as they were not used to hard manual labor. At the collective farm we
were ordered to do the heaviest work possible. In general, all women worked
that way, but we came from a city and we were not used to such work.

My mother and I were settled at one house, my aunt and cousin at
another. My mother and I slept in one bed. I remember well that we had a
samovar and drank tea all the time - without sugar, and practically without
tea enough for one brew, but we could drink ten glasses of that. People
also had lice, excuse me. There was a special comb to comb them out. I also
had lice for some time.

In general, our landlords used the word "kike" all the time. But when
we told them we were "kikes", they did not believe us. They said, "No, how
can you be kikes? All kikes are red!"

My father first went to Chelyabinsk and then to Sverdlovsk. There he
found a job at the Urals Gold Trust Company; it was in a district full of
gold and platinum. Later he took my mother and me from that village, and we
lived in the village at the gold field, 250 km from Sverdlovsk. In the
beginning it was very hard. We had no food but bread purchased with bread
cards. There was a canteen, but only workers of that company were allowed
to eat there. So, my father would go first to the canteen (he had a pass),
and if the waitress was kind, she would leave his pass untouched, then I
had a chance to use the same pass, then my mother. But if they marked the
pass, my mother and I remained hungry.

In Sverdlovsk I went to school. There were three evacuated girls in
my class: one from Leningrad, one from Moscow, and me. Two of us were
Jewish, one was Russian. The father of the girl from Leningrad was chief of
the Diamond Party and they lived well. But we received skimpy soup and a
tiny roll (for cards). Once we learned that nobody ate that soup, so we
brought cans and took all the remaining soup home. We ate it all, but our
classmates misunderstood us; there was even an article in the paper that we
took all the soup left in the school. We stayed with another family. They
had food, flour, potatoes. So, their small children would open our doors
and shout: "Our mother is cooking ravioli today! And we won't give you
any!" We remembered this for a long time. My father was given potatoes,
which we baked, boiled, and fried.

Then life became better. A gold-digging artel (Editor's note: a
workers' cooperative, probably a state-owned company) was set up, and my
father received sugar and even oil. Then I finished school and started work
at the local kindergarten. Later, I attended Sverdlovsk University. Later,
my father found a job in Sverdlovsk, and while I lived in a dormitory, my
parents rented a part of a room.

After the War

We returned from evacuation in 1945. We wanted to go to Kiev, but
could not get there. Our uncle helped us go to Donetsk. Then I went to Kiev
to study at the Institute, but we could not get our flat back, so we had to
move to Lvov. A military tribunal prosecutor lived in our flat, and since
my father did not serve in the army because of his age, we were not allowed
to receive our flat back. He turned to the chairman of the city council for
help, but received none, so we had to go to Lvov. There we bribed the house-
manager (which was "unofficially legal") and bought a good flat from the
Poles. Many Poles were leaving for Poland at that time, for they did not
want to stay "with the Soviets." They were offered Ukrainian citizenship,
but they did not want it and almost all of them left. They did not call us
"Jewish" or "Russian", but only "Soviet." In general, they remembered how
good their life was "with the Poles." I also remember being in fear of
Bandera gangs. There I began to work at the printing shop and to study at
the Lvov Polygraphist Institute. Then we exchanged our good flat in Lvov
for a bad flat in Kiev and moved to Kiev.

I began to work at the "Radyanska Ukraina" ("Soviet Ukraine")
publishers. There I worked for the rest of my life, first as a labor
management engineer, then as the chief of the labor department, and then I
retired. I could not continue to work on my career. But I had been working
at the ideology department, which was very rare for Jews. After the war I
sensed a difference in attitude towards the Jews. I was no longer promoted
anywhere because I was Jewish.

I remember the year 1953 mostly due to Stalin's death. People in
general were very loyal to him, and our family was, too. I was hysterical
when I heard he died. It was a shock for the country to listen to the 20th
Party Congress with Khrushchev exposing Stalin's cult. Not everyone
believed that, many remained Stalin's admirers. (editor's note: the
proceedings of this Congress were secret. It is unlikely, but not
impossible, that the Interviewee knewof them at the time).

I married in 1955. My husband, Boris Markovich Kushnir, is Jewish. He
was born in 1924, in the village of Gaisin, in the Vinnitsa region. He
fought during the war as a private, and the end of the war found him
somewhere under Kenningsberg. Unfortunately, I know nothing about his
grandparents, only that they were Jewish. Boris, just like me, was brought
up in a Jewish family and received a good education. But his family never
were religious, so neither my husband nor I know Jewish traditions,
religion or language. We lived at a time when it was not very safe or
fashionable to be religious and attend a church or a synagogue.

Boris graduated from the Economic Institute of Kiev. He felt anti-
Semitism very strongly. He worked as an economist, but Jews were not
allowed such jobs. It took him a while to find a job at the art glass
factory, but then he was fired from there. He had a conflict with somebody;
anyway, he was fired because he was Jewish. Then for a very long time he
could find no job. Some of his friends - Russians, and Ukrainians with whom
he had studied, worked at the People's Economy Council and provided
recommendations for him. He went to many places, was told that people of
his profession were needed, but as soon as he showed his documents, he was
immediately denied any job offers. Explanations varied: we don't need you
anymore, etc., but nobody stated the direct reason. Then the
"Yuzhgiprosteklo" Institute was set up, he was admitted there, and he
worked there up till his retirement to pension.

I also felt anti-Semitism in my life. Jews were not given work at our
organization, but those Jews who were already working there were not
dismissed. When I was sent to work by the institute in 1949, the director
of that work was Nathan Kaplan, a very good man, active and famous. And
then the Central Committee of the Communist Party dismissed him for no
reason, allegedly for confusing two pages in a newspaper, even though he
had nothing to do with that. It was a real tragedy for our collective. Then
we had a Party meeting, at which we all had to vote for his dismissal, but
nobody wanted to vote for that, on the contrary, we wanted to get him back.
Well, it did not help, and organizers of that "rebellion" were also
accused.

In 1955 my aunt Polya came to us from Switzerland. I already mentioned
that we lost communication with her prior to the war. After the war, my
father found her. She said her husband had died. Our correspondence was
restored. Then again in 1949 there was fight against cosmopolitism, and
again we had no letters from her. Only after Stalin's death, a friend of
hers (whose son was a political figure in democratic Germany) came to us
and brought us a letter from her.

So, when we received a letter from her, telling us that she was
coming, my father went to the police to "legalize," so to speak, her visit.
He went and asked them if we could have a relative visit us from
Switzerland. The police said "yes," so, we went to the airport. My father
went to ask some boss whether we could meet her on the field. Again, the
answer was "yes," so we bought flowers, even though it was uncommon then.
We took my aunt and her son to the "Intourist" hotel. My husband and I went
to invite them to come over. They wanted to walk along Kreschatik. We went
to Ulyanovy Street. There, next to our house there was a terrible house,
with a toilet outside. My cousin, Aunt Polya's son, wanted to record this
house on video. My husband did not go with him. He said, "I don't want to
leave a trace in such affairs." My mother cooked a wonderful dinner and
invited everyone who knew my aunt. My husband noticed that outside our
house a car was being repaired for the whole time they spent at our house.
As soon as they left, the car left too.

Then they went to Moscow. We saw them off at the train station, and
they were watched again. After their departure, the police came to my
mother and to my workplace. My husband was also summoned to the personnel
department of his workplace and asked many detailed questions about our
guests and those who wanted to see them here. They tried to make him a
supergrass, but he declined the "offer."

When aunt Polya was in Moscow, no relatives or friends who lived there
were brave enough to see her. Only her cousin came to see her from
Leningrad.

My mother died in 1963. After that, Aunt Polya invited me to
Switzerland many times, and I went to visit her in 1967, 1972, 1974, and
1977. And in 1988 I visited cousin Franklin, when my aunt was no longer
alive.

We talked a lot with her. For her whole life she was an atheist. But
at the end of her life she was interested in this question. She told me
many times, "You know, nobody came back from there." At the end of her
life, when I would go for a walk with her, she would often go to the
Catholic Church. She would only come inside, stand for a while and leave.
Her husband and her daughter were atheists, but her son Franklin read a lot
about different religions and chose to become a Catholic. He is a Catholic
now, not a fanatic, but once a week he goes to mass.

When I visited them for the first time in 1967, they told me they knew
about everything that was going on in our country and were against it. She
asked me, "What did you kill Trotsky for?" (Editor's note: Trotsky (Leo
Bronstein, 1879-1940, creator of the ideological-political movement which
was antagonistic to Marxism and close to the Mensheviks. It was called
"Trotskyism." For "anti-Soviet" propaganda, Trotsky was sent outside of the
USSR in 1929 and deprived of Soviet citizenship in 1932. He was killed in
Mexico by Communist Ramon Merkader). I personally never knew he was killed;
nobody here knew that fact. "But Stalin killed him!" Aunt Polya said. They
said that in general the idea of Communism is not bad, but any idea can
exist for 20 years, while in our country the Soviet power was 50 years old,
but everyone in the leadership was thinking only about their own good. They
told me all these things, but I was, and am, a Soviet.

When the new political developments and wars started in Israel, my
father got very interested in them. He took all Jewish problems very
closely to heart. He subscribed to the Soviet Jewish journal and listened
to all the "Voices" (radio stations that were forbidden in our country and
whose radiocast was jammed); he wanted to know the truth. My father died in
1974.

For some time my husband and I were thinking of emigrating to Israel.
We knew very little of Israel then and were afraid to quit everything here
and find ourselves in a strange and unknown country. We thought we would
never again be able to return here and see our near and dear, for everyone
who left could not even keep up a correspondence with us because of our
fear of the authorities. Such correspondence was always checked by the
Security Service and it was dangerous; people could even be fired from work
for it. We also understood that it would be hard for us to learn a new
language and find a job. At that time those who were emigrating were held
up to shame. Then we decided that since we were alone, with no children, we
could stay here; and so we stayed.

Later, after my husband's death, I went to Israel. My cousin Franklin
paid for my trip. I certainly took everything there as something dear and
close. Everything was so interesting - the rich synagogues, the Torah
scrolls, the mezuzahs. I was there on Passover. I heard the words I had
forgotten long time ago, the words I knew in my childhood. Some things I
recovered in my memory, others things were new to me.

In Israel I learned about all the traditions, about how to celebrate
Passover, about prayers and Haggadah. Jewish life in Kiev is very
different. It is wonderful that we have "Hesed," synagogues and Jewish
youth organizations. I certainly don't want to pretend, because I am not
religious and will never be, but I am still very interested in everything
about Jewish life. Sometimes I think that we have lost something in our
lives due to the degree of our assimilation and being far from the Jewish
life. But it is not our fault - it is rather our trouble. That is why I am
really happy about the restoration of Jewish life. Even Russians and
Ukrainians are jealous, saying that the Jews are doing a good job, thinking
about one another, for the whole world is helping our Jews to survive and
to identify themselves with the Jewish nation. That is why it is so nice
that young people have plunged so deeply into the Jewish life, into various
Jewish organizations. They will not miss what being Jewish is all about.

I am very grateful to you for talking to me. I hope it will be
helpful. Thank you.

Rebeca Gershon-Levi

Ребека Гершон

Произходът на моето семейство идва от град Пловдив. Родителите на майка ми и баща ми са родени и са живели в този град. Аз също съм родена в град Пловдив – на 29 май 1923 г. Животът ми като дете в този град беше невероятен. Пловдив беше спокоен, уютен и много добре уреден град. Къщата, в която съм родена не си спомням, защото сме живели под наем и затова сме се местили няколко пъти през времето на моето детство. По това време беше съвсем естествено да се живее под наем и повечето семейства живееха по този начин. Изобщо животът ми в Пловдив беше една приказка. Семейството ми не беше особено богато, но аз съм изживяла детството си много щастливо. Пловдив беше за мен някакво очарование.

Прадядо ми по майчина линия е живял в Пазарджик и е бил гръцки поданик. Неговият произход идва от Гърция. Кога е дошъл в Бъпгария и откъде точно никога не е ставало дума в семейството на майка ми. Занимавал с търговия на дървен материал. Бил е много достоен и хубав човек. Спомням си, че баба ми, неговата дъщеря, ходеше всяка година да си заверява паспорта в службата по общинска безопасност в Пловдив, защото се водеше гръцка поданичка. Майка ми, нейната сестра и брат получават българско поданство след 18 годишната си възраст.

Прабаба ми по майчина линия се е казвала Естреа. Говореше и на ладино и на български. Прабаба ми по майчина линия живя доста дълго – при една от дъщерите си в Ямбол и идваше на гости в Пловдив при моята баба. Дори сме ходили на курорт – аз с баба ми и прабаба ми. Спомням си, че баба ми по майчина линия, Мазалтов Калеф пишеше на ладино. Беше много спокойна и мила жена. Разказваше ми приказки, беше много сладкодумна. Имаше неизчерпаем списък от приказки. Любимата ми беше за 1001 нощ. Баба ми беше много интелигентна и добра и всички в Пловдив много я уважаваха и обичаха. Когато почина, вече бяхме отишли да живеем в София и аз бях в седми клас на гимназията.

Спомням си и един брат на прадядо ми, който живееше в Пловдив и беше много достолепен старик – много сериозен и достоен човек. Живееше на главната улица в града и аз му ходех на гости. Живееше сам с една домашна помощничка.

Майка ми Сарина имаше брат и сестра – Шмуел и Ернеста, а баща ми Алберт имаше трима братя и една сестра от първия брак на баща си – Шимон, Самуел, Йосеф и Матилда. Майката на баща ми е починала много рано и баща му се е оженил повторно. От втората съпруга на баща си има природени две сестри и един брат – Мари, Виктория и Леон.

Дядо ми по бащина линия, Аврам Гершон, е роден в Пловдив. Той беше комисионер по професия, но в по-голяма степен е издържан от баща ми и неговия брат, които бяха търговци и имаха голям магазин.Дядо ми и баба ми по бащина линия живееха в Пловдив на Сахат тепе в една стара българска къща с голям чардак[дървен навес] и огромен двор. Къщата имаше масивен каменен зид. Там имаше невероятна атмофера. Аз много обичах да ходя там. Къщата имаше три огромни стаи, които много ме впечатляваха, тъй като тогава живеех в по-скромно пространство. Там обичах да закусвам сутрин на софра [тадиционна ниска масичка] попара [популярна закуска от надробен хляб и прясно мляко].

Дядо ми по бащина линия дружеше изключително с българи. Цялата му среда се състоеше от българи и имаше непрекъснато гости за обяд или вечеря. Беше строг, хубав мъж, не много висок на ръст. Изпитвах страхопочитание към него, тъй като беше много строг, но и много грижовен.

В близост до къщата на баба ми и дядо ми се намираше малък площад, в който се намираше цирка. За мен беше невероятно изживяване да ходя на цирк и да гледам номерата с животните. В тази част на града се намираше стопанското училище и смесената гимназия, в която учих една година преди да се преместим в София.

Дядо ми по майчина линия, Хаим Калеф, почина когато бях едва на шест години. Спомням си, че когато се разхождах из Пловдив чух две жени да си приказват на улицата за това. Бях много малка и не разбирах добре какво се случва. Стана ми ясно едва когато майка ми ми обясни. Според нашите обичаи жените не ходят на гробища и не помня абсолютно нищо от погребението.

В Пловдив сме живели на няколко места. Местили сме се много често. Къщата, в която съм родена, не си спомням. Къщата, в която живеехме първоначално в Пловдив, се намираше на главната улица “Цар Освободител” срещу Бунарджика. След това отидохме да живеем на Сахат Тепе на улица “Станфорд”. На улица “Цар Освободител” сме живели два пъти – веднъж в началото на улицата, веднъж в нейния край. Първият път живеехме с хазяи евреи, които живееха на горния етаж, а ние – на долния етаж. В тази къща се роди брат ми.

Със сигурност си спомням, че когато живеехме в къщата срещу Бунарджика, нямаше електрическо осветление, тъй като вечерно време баща ми използваше фенер. Тогава имахме и момиче слугинче, което помагаше в домакинството. Една вечер, когато се прибирахме вкъщи от някакво гостуване аз започнах да закачам и дърпам момичето, което носеше на ръце брат ми, който беше бебе тогава. Момичето изпусна брат ми да падне на земята. За радост не се беше наранил, но аз изядох голям пердах. (или: “бях наказана от родителите си” б.а.).

Спомням си и друга случка от тази къща. Брат ми се роди много хубаво дете. Имаше къдрави коси, сини очи и големи бузки. Тогава започнах да ревнувам от него, тъй като цялото внимание вече беше насочено към него. Един ден помолих майка ми да го понося малко и заедно с мой братовчед излязохме на терасата. Бяхме купили големи червени бонбони и се опитахме да пъхнем един такъв бонбон в устата на бебето. Едва не го задушихме и си получихме наказанието.

Брат ми, Хаим Алберт Калеф,е роден на 16. 1. 1929 г.в Пловдив . Там е бил в детска градина. Едва в София започва първо отделение, стига до трето и тогава ни изселиха в Плевен. Фактически в България той остана без образование. След като се върнахме в София той започна да работи. Беше сръчно момче изапочна работа в един обущарски цех. Когато заминаваше за Израел, направи разкошни туристически обувки за цялото семейство. В Израел започна да се интересува от механика и завърши училище за “мазгер” механик, след което стана преподавател. Изработвал е проекти за големи конструкции в металургията.

Учех в еврейското училище до 4-то отделение. Беше ми много трудно и започнах да моля майка ми да ме премести. Особено трудно ми беше да науча едно стихотворение наизуст на иврит. До ден днешен не знам иврит и изпитвам голямо неудобство от това когато ходя в Израел.

Живеехме на улица “Карнеги” като срещу нас се намираше училището “Карнеги”. Преместих се в прогимназията в това училище, което се намираше точно от другата страна на улицата. Тази къща се намираше между Бунарджика и пожарната команда. Това е много приятен квартал в Пловдив. Там живеехме при една братовчедка на майка ми, която обитаваше първия етаж. При нас, на втория етаж, живееше още едно еврейско семейство, което беше пристигнало от Гърция. Започнах гимназиалното си образование в Пловдив – в 4-ти клас в смесената гимназия. През лятото на 1938 г. се преместих в София, където продължих да уча.

Най-накрая, преди да заминем за София, живеехме на Бунарджика, срещу главния вход - на улица “Цар Освободител”. Представляваше къща близнак – една къща, разделена на две. Гръцкото семейство живееше в едната част – гъркинята със съпруга си, двамата и сина, които бяха ученици и една дъщеря. В другата част живеехме аз, майка ми , баща ми и брат ми. Имахме отделни входове за къщата. Самата къща разполагаше с голям двор и насаждения, за които се грижеше гъркинята. Спомням си, че тя се отнасяше много недоверчиво към нас, защото може би си мислеше, че ще повредим насажденията и, но след като ни опозна, започна да дружи с нас. Гъркинята беше протестантка и агитираше майка ми да ходи на събранията на протестантската църква. Аз я придружавах, защото ми беше любопитно да наблюдавам техните събрания и обстановката – как насядалите по скамейките хора пеят псалми, тъй като това го няма в нашата синагога. Сега тази къща не съществува, защото на нейно място е направена жилищна кооперация.

Много обичах да се разхождам из Пловдив и имах тази възможност. Любимите ми места бяха Сахат Тепе [един от тите хълма на града ] , Бунарджика, [ един от тите хълма на града ] река Марица. Събирахме се голяма група от деца и се скитахме из града. Играехме на много игри - като малка играех с момчетата на топчета. Тези топчета ги взимахме от бутилките за сода и лимонада. Играехме много и на стражари и апаши. Много интересна беше играта на духове. Събирахме се в къщи, спускахме пердетата и започвахме да викаме духове, докато не ни се привиждаше нещо и обикновено някой изпищяваше от страх. Разбира се, това правехме само когато родителите ни отсъстваха от къщи. Играехме и на криеница.

Спомням си, че когато живеехме на улица “Цар Освободител”, се събирахме няколко деца, на които бях казала, че ако копаем, можем да достигнем до средата на Земята. Представях си, че там има езеро, до което има лодка, на която можем да се повозим. Започнахме да копаем и разбира се, не стигнахме до нищо. Обичахме да берем сливи и други плодове от чуждите дворове и често ни се караха за това.

Винаги съм общувала с приятелите си на български език. Баба ми и майка ми говореха на ладино, но аз смятах този език за нещо архаично. Иврит не сме говорили. Едва сега започнах да се интересувам от ладино, защото виждам връзката с испанския език.

В семейството ми беше прието да се пазарува през дните сряда и четвъртък, а в петък да се готви. В събота не се готвеше, но се палеха електрически крушки и се слушаше радио; понякога ходехме и на кино. Семейството ми спазваше Кашер. Пазарувахме винаги от магазини, където равинът бе сложил печат и се ядеше изключително телешко месо За първи път вкусихме свинско месо след 9 септ. 1944 г., когато имаше голяма криза за храна и бях получила от службата си такова месо, което занесох вкъщи и за първи път майка ми сготви свинско месо.

Когато бях малка, баба ми по майчина линия ме водеше на синагога. Спомням си, че ме водеше на празника Кипур – празника на всеопрощението – когато не се яде по цял ден и се вечеря в шест часа вечерта. Тогава близките си прощават взаимно греховете. Празникът е посветен и на мъртвите и на живите. Когато свещенникът завършваше словото си в синагогата, захапвахме първо една голяма дюла, която беше първото нещо, което се ядеше през деня. Беше истинско събитие, ако децата успееха да издържат да не се хранят цял ден.

Празнувахме винаги Песах, когато най-възрастният от семейството чете молитвата за празника, свързана с легендата за спасяването на евреите от египетското нашествие. В нашата къща най-възрастен беше баща ми, но понякога се събирахме с близките на майка ми или на баща ми и тогава дядовците прочитаха молитвата. Бях по-привързана към семейството на майка ми, докато към роднините на баща ми изпитвах любопитство и интерес.

Почитахме и Ханука. Имахме специален свещник, който палехме на празника. Винаги се правеха богати трапези за празниците. На празника Пурим ми правеха торбичка с плодове – портокал, ябълка, фурма, рошков[специфично широколистно дърво] орех. Даваха ни и по някой лев и отивахме да се въртим на люлките.

Баща ми приемаше по свой начин религията. Преди всичко се вълнуваше от политиката – беше изключителен политикан. Баща ми не беше много религиозен. Но след като замина за Израел, стана по-религиозен. Там научи иврит и четеше вестници. Брат ми също научи иврит преввъзходно, преподавал е на иврит. Баща ми беше много ученолюбив и четеше редовно, въпреки че не беше завършил училище. Беше отявлен ционист и ревизионист и аз редовно спорех с него, тъй като имах леви убеждения. Баща ми, както и брат ми, нямаха много време да четат и да се образоват. Въпреки това имаха изключително задълбочени познания по някои въпроси. Не бяха учили нещо специално, но имаха имаха изключителни познания по география, история и икономика.

Баща ми беше търговец и отявлен политикан. Той търгуваше с кинкалерия и работеше повече със селяни. Продаваше панделки, дантели, копчета, но за мое съжаление не и играчки. Магазинът му се намираше на търговската улица близо до джамията при аптека “Марица”. Магазинът беше на два етажа. Първият етаж представляваше приемната, а вторият етаж беше за стоката. На първия етаж баща ми обичаше да приема гости. За тази цел винаги имаше осигурени пресни банички и други неща за хапване. Баща ми беше отявлен ревизионист и ционист и беше член на организацията “Жаботински” – еврейска организация, която пропагандира идеята и има за цел възстановяването на територията на Израел с бойни средства. Името на организацията идва от името на нейния основател, който е бил полски евреин – Владимир Жаботински. По това време евреите в Пловдив имаха много разнообразни политически въгледи като баща ми беше от най-десните. Спомням си, че в организацията, в която членуваше баща ми, имаше и един Паси, който се явява дядо на сегашния министър на външните работи Соломон Паси.

Баща ми влагаше много средства в този магазин за политически сбирки и когато дойде кризата от 1929 г. , той фалира. Това е годината, в която се роди брат ми и оттогава започна бедността. Имахме домашна прислужница до времето, когато живеехме на улица “Станфорд”. След това вече нямахме възможност и майка ми сама пое домакинството.[ През 1929 г. в България започва икономическа криза, която засяга и семейството на Ребека Гершон]

За мен Пловдив беше като еврейски град-държава. Чувствах се много уютно в Пловдив. Роднините ми бяха много задружни и винаги са се събирали и са държали един на друг. Освен това през 20-те години аз бях единствената внучка и се ползвах с изключителното внимание на целия род. Живеех безгрижно и не съм мислила за политическата и икономическата обстановка в България. Винаги съм била нахранена и добре облечена.

Всяка събота и неделя излизахме извън Пловдив. Понякога тръгвахме и в петък вечер. Придвижвахме се с талиги [четириколесни закрити каруци с два впрегатни коня]. Ходили сме в Коматово, Куклино, Марково [села в Пловдивско]. Минавахме през великолепни орехови гори, които за съжаление не съществуват вече. С нас носехме специални скари за барбекю, кладяхме огньове. Моите родители много обичаха разходките в околностите на Пловдив.

Често, обикновено в събота, отивахме на Бунарджика, където беше Казиното. Живеехме наблизо и сядахме заедно с познати семейства да послушаме музика. Навремето беше известен певеца и танцьора Джип. В събота на децата даваха пари и отивахме да ядем пържени дробчета, кебапчета, купувахме си царевици, отивахме на сладкарница. Пловдив беше рогът на изобилието.

През 1937 г. родителите ми заминаха с брат ми за София, а аз остаенах в Пловдив до следващата година. До заминаването си живях при моя вуйчо Шмуел и учех в смесената гимназия в Пловдив. Животът ми в Пловдив беше очарователен и когато дойдох в София плаках много. Цели шест месеца не можах да дойда на себе си. Аз заминах през лятото на 1938 г. за София, която тогава ми се стори отвратителна. Всичко ми беше чуждо и неприятно. Преживях много болезнено тази промяна. След няколко месеца отново заминах за Пловдив, тъй като бях във ваканция. Едва след като се върнах отново в София, успях да се адаптирам към новата обстановка, тъй като вече имах познати съученички. Ходех и в читалището, където също имах приятели.

След като заминаха за София, родителите ми отидоха да живеят първоначално на улица “Опълченска”, а след това – в къщата на една моя съученичка от гимназията на улица “Цар Симеон”. От тази къща ни изселиха в Плевен през 1943 г.Помня една бомбардировка в София, тогава живеехме на улица “Цар Симеон” при моята съученичка, която се казва Ани Пастуркова. Къщата беше на три етажа. Бомбардировката беше ужасна. Скрихме се в мазето на една съседна къща. Бомбардираха гарата, а жилището ни бише наблизо и всички гърмежи се чуваха много силно. В Плевен виждахме само ята от самолети, които отиваха към София. Променен параграф

Баща ми започна работа в София като търговски пътник в една шоколадова фабрика. Станаха близки със собственика, защото в лицето на баща ми той намери талантлив и отговорен човек.
Баща ми обикаляше страната и осъществяваше пласмента на продукцията в цялата провинция. Баща ми нямаше възможност да влезе в контакт с евреите в София. Пътуваше през цялото време и изобщо не се задържаше в града. Обикаляше страната, беше контактен човек и имаше приятели навсякъде из страната.Нивото на семейството на собственика по нищо не можеше да се сравнява с нашето. Семейството му беше от преуспели селяни. Бях съученичка с дъщерята на собственика в Трета девическа гимназия.

Първите антисемитски настроения усетих през 1939 г., когато обявиха Закона за защита на нацията [множество наредби за репресии срещу евреите в Б-я]. Спомням си, че се разхождах по булевард “Христо Ботев” заедно с моя приятелка. Тогава няколко души “бранници”[организация за репресии срещу евреите] започнаха да ни закачат и тогава за щастие моята приятелка, която не беше еврейка се обърна за помощ към един случайно преминаващ офицер. Изпитвах голямо унижение, когато ходех със значката. Била съм истинска късметлийка, че не съм поругавана и малтретирана.

Законът за защита на нацията от 1939 г. засегна първо собствениците на имоти – отнемаха им правото на собственост. Ние нямахме нито пари, нито собственост, но въпреки че баща ми работеше при български работодател, стагнацията започна да се усеща и при нас.

През 1941 – 1942 г. “Бранник” беше официална организация [организация за репресии срещу евреите]. Имах съученичка от гимназията, която стана член на тази организация. Случи се така, че след много години я срещнах отново. Нейната личност беше много отблъскваща. Срещата беше случайна на входа на Съдебната палата. Бяхме заедно с моя втори съпруг, който я познавал от службата си. Тогава съпругът ми я разцелува без да знае за моето отношение към нея. Аз реагирах емоционално и му зашлевих шамар. Тогава бях стажант в Съдебната палата, а съпругът ми беше юрист. След тази случка, макар и трудно, съпругът ми ми прости.

Завърших гимназия през 1941 г. През 1942 г. ни окачиха значките, за да личи, че сме от еврейски произход, но не загубихме кураж. Опитах се да започна работа в София, тъй като бях завършила машинописни курсове. В София нямахме възможност да се установим постоянно, защото нямахме въэможност за това. Семейството ни разполагаше с една заплата – тази на баща ми, а аз и брат ми бяхме ученици. Но през 1943 г. дойде известие, че сме изселени в Плевен. Бяхме принудени да разпродадем цялата си покъщнина от къщата на улица “Цар Симеон”, в която живеехме тогава. Променен параграф

Моите роднини от Пловдив не бяха изселени от града. Имали са ограничителен режим. Не са могли да ходят на работа и да напускат града.

Леля ми по майчина линия беше женена за равин в Бургас. Той имаше гръцко поданство. Когато са започнали гоненията срешу евреите, околийският управител на Бургас е посъветвал равина да напусне страната, за да не попадне в концлагерите. За една вечер се приготвят и заминават за Турция през 1942г. и оттам в Израел. Леля ми тогава е имала две деца. В Израел не е живяла щастливо и се е развела с мъжа си. Пишехме си писма, от които стана ясно това. Писах й, че ще направя всичко възможно, за да й помогна да се върне в България, ако желае това. Но тя не пожела и остана в Тел Авив в Изарел, където почина от левкемия. Много обичах тази моя леля.

В Плевен първоначално ни настаниха в едно училище и след това ни разрешиха да си наемем квартира, която представляваше една стая. В Плевен живеехме до пътя, който водеше към затвора “Кайлъка” [“Кайлъка” е използван и за концентрационен лагер]. Този район е в покрайнините на града. Хазяите ни бяха много любезни и ни канеха да си наберем грозде от тяхната овощна градина. Хранехме се в обществена кухня [на определено място в града в определен час се раздава безплатна храна за новопристигналите евреи]. Започнах работа в една фабрика за обувки. Станах “саяджийка” – правихме “саите”- това са горните части на обувките.променен параграф

В Плевен имах един изключително неприятен период. Единствено хората около мен бяха добри. В обущарската фабрика работех заедно с много други момичета, други хора отиваха да работят по лозята. Във фабриката бях репресирана от един майстор, който непрекъснато ме наблюдаваше и се занимаваше само с мен. Издевателстваше над мен и когато беше в лошо настроение ме караше да излизам навън и да събирам изрезки от кожата за обувки без никакъв смисъл. Накрая собственикът на фабриката дойде нри мен и ме посъветва да напусна и аз напуснах. Отидох в друга фабрика, където собственикът беше фашист. Там за щастие работеше един симпатичен евреин на възрастта на баща ми, който ме ориентира в обстановката и ме покровителстваше през цялото време. Слава Богу, дойде 9. септември[комунистически преврат през 1944] и напуснах.

Майсторът от фабриката имаше нахалството да дойде в София и да ме потърси. Тогава аз го заплаших с арест. Не можех да проумея как възрастен човек със семейство може да постъпва така.

Това беше изключително лош период за мен. Благодарение на това, че ние, евреите умеем да се организираме, успяхме да преживеем. Събирахме се всяка събота и неделя с повод и без повод. Дори бяхме направили музикална група, в която се свиреше на цигулки. Пеехме, изнасяха се беседи.

В Плевен се случи нещо любопитно и парадоксално. Запознах се с трима младежи, които се държаха с мен като с принцеса, въпреки че бяха с крайно десни убеждения. Дори единият от тях беше легионер [профашистка организация до 1944 г.]. Покровителстваха ме и дори единият от тях беше влюбен в мен и ми подари красива гривна. Правихме си разходки, гостувах му и му имах безкрайно доверие. Тези младежи се държаха с мен като истински джентълмени.

В Плевен се запознах с представител на известната и заможна фамилия Асео, които бяха собственици на големи имоти в София, сред които и най-известното кино в града. Беше млад човек – студент, но беше с побеляла коса. Станахме близки, но след като се върнахме в София, пътищата ни се разделиха.

По времето на Холокоста вуйчо ми, баща ми и брат му бяха разпределени в трудови групи. Баща ми беше разпределен в трудовите групи [групи за принудителен труд] в Белене. Вуйчо ми не е бил изселен, но е държан в гето, което е било създадено специално за евреите.Баща ми беше изключително издръжлив човек. Бил е болен само веднъж на старини. През 1988 г. получи тежък удар и е настанен в дом с медицинско обслужване.променено според желанието на Дора от Венгрия

Когато баща ми беше в трудовите групи, нямахме никаква връзка с него. Едва по-късно научихме къде е бил разпределен – в Белене [населено място в северна България]. В Плевен не разполагахме с никакви средства освен с моята скромна заплата.

Върнах се в София през месец октомври 1944 г. Влаковете бяха претъпкани. След 9 септември 1944 г. веднага ме поканиха в областното управление на МВР в Плевен. Работех в нравствения отдел и пишех протоколи на машина. Когато бе обявено, че можем да се върнем в София, отидох при областния управител, който беше много симпатичен човек и ми даде много препоръчителни писма. Когато се върнах в София, отидох в Дирекцията на милицията на площад “Лъвов мост”. Там един много симпатичен човек ме прие на работа в паспортния отдел.

Родителите ми се върнаха малко по-късно от мен и намериха квартира на улица “Цар Иван-Асен ІІ” в една двуетажна къща. Аз получих жилище от МВР на улица “Граф Игнатиев” и бул.”Толбухин”[днес “В. Левски”]. Тъй като квартирата на улица “Цар Иван-Асен ІІ” беше една стая, отидохме да живеем на бул. “Толбухин 2”, откъдето се беше изнесъл мой колега. Там делихме жилището с една моя сънародничка еврейка, която първоначално отказваше да ни приеме, дори на два пъти ни изнасяше багажа от жилището. Накрая, все пак, станахме добри приятели. Тя живееше в едната стая, а моето семейство – баща ми, майка ми, брат ми и аз в стая, кухня и хол. Апартаментът беше огромен. След като се изселиха родителите ми от България в Израел, получих предложение да го купя, но първият ми съпруг Мюнцер Благоев не се съгласи, защото смяташе, че всичко ще се превърне в държавна собственост. По-късно се наложи да освободим жилището, защото сестрата на собственичката продаде жилището. Междувременно родителите ми и брат ми заминаха за Израел. Тогава се преместихме с първиях ми съпруг на ул. “Марин Дринов”.

На работното си място не съм имала конфликти заради еврейския си произход. Спомням си една случка, когато една служителка от Дирекцията на милицията разказваше на колегите си, че е била изгонена от една “мръсна” еврейка, която е била собственичката на жилището, в което е била настанена. Тогава съществуваше практика властите да настаняват новопристигналите в София хора в къщи и апартаменти на други хора. Аз също бях настанена в подобно жилище на булевард “Толбухин” [сега “Васил Левски”]. Същият беше случаят с тази служителка. Аз станах и и ударих шамар. Дори да живеех при българка, никога нямаше да я нарека така. След това имах неприятности от моя началник, който ме заплашваше със съд. В крайна сметка всичко се размина и дори останахме приятелки с моята колежка. Животът е бил снизходителен към мен и не съм имала големи неприятности.

Имаше партийно решение от страна на БКП за заминаването на евреите – всички можеха да заминат. Но тогавашният началник на Дирекцията на милицията ме извика и ми съобщи, че дори да подам молба за заминаване, няма да ме пуснат поне 5-6 години. Действително, мен ме пуснаха да се видя с роднините си едва след 13 години – през 1963 г.След деветосептемврийския преврат от 1944 г. аз имах леви убеждения [прокомунистически]. Въпреки че много мои сънародници заминаха, аз не желаех това. Направих само формални постъпки, за да бъда толерантна към родителите си. Голяма промяна

След 9 септ. 1944 г. направих постъпки за специализация на брат ми в Чехия в училище на фирмата “Бата”. От мястото, в което работеше, не получи добра характеристика и не замина. Може би ако беше получил добра характеристика и бе заминал за Чехия, нямаше да замине така скоро за Израел. Това беше преломен момент в живота му.

След като се основа Израелската държава, евреите започнаха да напускат България. Родителите ми заминаха през 1949 г. , а роднините ми в Пловдив – през 1948 г. След това имаше една голяма “алиа” – заминаха всичките ми приятели. От около 45 000 души тогава останаха 10 000, а сега в България не знам дали има 5 000 евреи.Моите родители са били настанени в т.нар. “срикове” – специални бараки. Брат ми не желаеше да бъдат настанени в квартира в града и първото му жилище беше в Яфо – в новозаселената част на града.преместено

Баща ми е започнал веднага работа в Израел. Положението е било трудно, тъй като не е имало достатъчно работа за всички новопристигнали. Търсили са препитание на много места. Брат ми разказва една тъжна история, когато са ходили с баща ми от Пардес Хана, където са били на лагери, чак до Хайфа да търсят работа, но не са намерили, спали са на открито и са се върнали обратно. Брат ми е работил във варници, където са му били изгорени краката. После баща ми си намира работа в общинска строителна организация “Амидар” за строежи на жилища на новодошлите като домакин. Помагал е на хората да се настаняват и много са го обичали и уважавали. На 78 годишна възраст е обявил, че напуска и цяла група хора са дошли при него да го молят да остане. Получавал е добра пенсия, майка ми е получавала социална пенсия. Имаха собствено жилище, което са оставили на брат ми.

Преди изселването ни в Плевен посещавах много редовно еврейското читалище “Климентина”. Много обичах да чета и ходех там предимно да чета. Постепенно там се запознах с различни хора, които започнаха да се занимават с мен и да ме просвещават. Преди заминаването бях в еврейска среда. След като се завърнах от изселването продължавах да ходя в еврейския дом и дори участвах в хора на еврейския дом. Но като служител в милицията имах неограничено работно време и това ми попречи да продължа. Средата ми се обособи с работното място и приятелката ми от училище.

С първия ми съпруг се запознах в работата си. Той се казва Мюнцер Благоев и не е евреин. Баща му е бил съратник на Георги Димитров[първия мин-председател на България сдлед 09.09.1944 и председател на БКП] и Васил Коларов[министър в правителството на Г.Димитров]. Неговото семейство е заминало нелегално в Русия през 1923г. През 1947г. се завръща от Москва. Завършил е право. През XII. 1949г. сключихме брак. Родителите ми не присъстваха.

По това време не чествах еврейските празници. След 09. IX.1944г. не беше актуално да се честват празниците. Повечето ми приятели бяха българи. Съпругът ми беше особен човек и живееше изолирано. Признаваше само братята си. Така постепенно се отчуждих от еврейската си среда.

Когато заминаха родителите ми, аз продължих да живея на бул. “Толбухин”2. Там живяхме и със съпруга ми. Той имаше конфликт с Вълко Червенков [тогавашен министър на културата] заради някакви възражения от страна на съпруга ми към управлението на коменистическата партия. От друга страна майка му беше със самочувствието на активен партиен функционер. Дори са били изгонени от жилището си по нареждане на Вълко Червенков.

Работих в Дирекцията на милицията до 1951г. Тогава изгониха съпруга ми Мюнцер Благоев, който работеше като инспектор, за неразбирателство с ръководството на Дирекцията и заедно с него – и мен. Бях много щастлива от този факт, защото докато работех там, бях много ограничавана и чувствах, че работата ми тежи. Тогава получихме по една заплата допълнително и аз си спомням, че отидох в магазина за платове, който се намираше на мястото на Американското посолство и си купих прекрасни платове. Получих препоръки за работа, докато него го уволниха и го наказаха партийно. Препоръките ми бяха за три места. Аз избрах съюза на Българо-съветските дружества. Другата ми препоръка беше за Градския комитет на БКП. Съюзът на Българо-съветските дружества се намираше на ул. “Мизия” и започнах работа като завеждащ връзки с чужбина. Там работих до заминаването ми в Китай.

Мюнцер Благоев бе уволнен през 1951г.. Чак през 1954г. започна работа. Хранила съм го 4 години. През 1954г. чрез министъра на финансите – Кирил Лазаров, който му е бил кръстник, влиза във МВнР с длъжност “аташе по печата”. През 1958г. бе предложен за заминаване в Китай и заминахме. Там живяхме 4 години. Мюнцер Благоев работеше като втори секретар на българското посолство в Китай.

Когато бях в Китай пращах писмата до родителите ми до майката на Мюнцер в България и тя ги слагаше в друг плик и ги препращаше до Израел. От България пращах директно писмата си.

След като се завърнах, нямах работа и реших да завърша образованието си. През 1956г. бях положила изпити за специалност право. След това прекъснах контактите си с университета, тъй като нямах време да уча и работя едновременно. Когато се завърнах от Китай направих постъпки пред деканата да продължа следването си. Зарърших през 1967 година, дипломирах се. Започнах работа в Съюза на юристите. След това бях юрисконсулт във “Водно стопанство” и оттам се пенсионирах.

Разведох се с Мюнцер Благоев през 1965г. заради големите неприятности, които сам си създаваше с конфликтното си поведение към официалната власт и произтичащите от товa
последици върху мен. През 1974г. се объжих пак за мой сънародник от Пловдив, който познавам от ученичка. Вторият ми съпруг се казва Соломон Леви. Той ми остави син и дъщеря, които не бих имала, ако не го бях срещнала и с които сме в много добри отношения. Много са ми помагали – особено при преместванията ми в нови жилища. Времето, което изживях с втория ми съпруг беше изпълнено с много приятни мигове от пътешествия и ексурзии в страната. След като се оженихме, през 1975 г. , направихме едно пътуване до Израел като на връщане минахме през Гърция.

Докато бяха живи родителите ми, ходех много често в Израел – през 2-3 години. Понякога имах проблеми със заминаването си. Имаше една абсурдна ситуация - когато майка ми беше на смъртно легло ми казаха, че ще ме пуснат само ако отивам на погребение. Това се случи през 1983 година. Тогава вече беше починал съпругът ми. Майка ми почина през следващата година.

По време на войните в Израел аз бях изцяло на страната на моя народ, за което щях да получа наказание. Смятах, че тази държава трябва да съществува, защото заради нея са загинали хиляди хора. Тогава бях стажантка в Народния съд. Спомням си, че един млад колега, чийто баща беше декан на Икономическия факултет, носеше всеки ден карта на Близкия Изток и отбелязваше със знаменца мястото на военните действия.

Помня едно събрание, в което Тодор Живков [първи секретар на българската комунистическа партия] имаше доклад и стана дума за израелско-арабския конфликт. Тогава един от присъстващите се изкза, че е готов да отиде да се бие на страната на арабите, на което Тодор Живков отговори с ирония. .

Смятам за нормално развитието на политическите процеси в Източна Европа. Процесът на отваряне на Източна Европа е правилен.

Смятах нахлуването на руските войски в Чехия за нещо нормално. Мислех, че там стават лоши неща, така бях възпитана. По време на събитията в Чехия бях в Израел на гости на моя приятелка, която ми беше колежка от структурите на МВР. Тя беше голяма комунистка. В Израел беше омъжена за един много симпатичен лекар. Била е изгонена от МВР и наказана заради връзка е един от началниците си, който е бил обявен за “враг”. Нейното име е Бека Франсез. На това гости тя изрази позиция срещу намесата на Съветския съюз. Тогава бях изумена. За мен това беше ерес. Въпреки негативните последствия върху мен от брака ми с Мюнцер Благоев – знаех, че щом спомена, че съм му съпруга, ще бъда изгонена от работа – у мен бе останало убеждението, че трябва да бъда вярна на партията [БКП].

Пенсионирах се през 1978г. След 1989г. отначало бях много стресната. Струваше ми се, че се връщах назад към онова минало, от което се боях и което ненавиждах. След това разбрах, че е дошло време за промяна и на политиката и на икономиката. Съветският съюз пръв даде сигнал за това. Тогава разбрах, че не всичко е черно или бяло, че има и нюанси, че не всички които не са членове на БСП са фашисти, че не всички, които са членове на БСП са демократи и т.н. Започнах да чувствам хората като хора, а не като членове на дадена партия. След 1989г. бяхме изключително политизирани, беше еуфория. Сега разбирам, че един човек не прави политика. Уважавам хората заради качествата им.

Сега живея добре с помощта на брат ми, без грижа за насъщния. Посещавам еврейската общност. За съжаление нямам много близки приятели.

Rebeca Gershon-Levi

Rebeca Gershon-Levi and Solomon Levi

Rebeca Gershon-Levi
Sofia
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Dimitar Bozhilov
Date of interview: January 2002

My family is from Plovdiv. My mother’s and father’s parents were born and lived in that town. I was also born there on 29th May 1923. My childhood in that town was wonderful. Plovdiv was a quiet, cozy and very well-organized town. I don’t remember the house where I was born because we lived in rented places then and moved several times during my childhood. It was quite usual at that time to live under rent and most families lived that way. My life in Plovdiv was like a fairy-tale. Our family wasn’t very rich but I had a very happy childhood. I found Plovdiv very charming.

Growing up in Plovdiv

My maternal great-grandfather lived in Pazardjik and was a Greek citizen. His ancestors had been from Greece. No one in my mother’s family ever told me when he had come to Bulgaria and from where exactly. I remember that his daughter, my grandmother, Mazaltov Haim Kalet, nee Sidi, who was a Greek citizen, had to go to the municipal offices in Plovdiv every year in order to certify her passport. My mother, her sister and brother got Bulgarian citizenship after they turned 18.

My maternal great-grandmother was named Estrea. She spoke both Ladino and Bulgarian. She lived to a very old age – with one of her daughters in the town of Yambol. She used to visit my grandmother in Plovdiv. We even went to health resorts together – my great-grandmother, my grandmother and I. I remember that my maternal grandmother wrote in Ladino. She was a very calm and kind woman. She used to tell me fairy-tales – she was very eloquent and had an endless list of tales. My favorite ones were those from the ‘A Thousand and One Nights’ collection. My grandma was very intelligent and good and everybody in Plovdiv respected and loved her a lot. She died after we had already moved to live in Sofia, when I was in the 7th class of high school.

I remember one of my great-grandfather’s brothers who lived in Plovdiv and he was a very impressive man. He lived on the main street and I often visited him. He lived alone; there was only one housemaid.

My mother Sarina Avram Gershon, nee Kalef, had a brother and a sister – Shmuel and Ernesta, and my father, Albert Haim Gershon, had three brothers and a sister from his father’s first marriage – Shimon, Samuel, Josef and Matilda. My father’s mother had died very early and his father married again after that. My father had two stepsisters and a stepbrother – Mari, Victoria and Leon.

My paternal grandfather, Haim Avram Gershon, was born in Plovdiv. He was an agent but my father and his brother supported him mostly as they were merchants and had a big shop. My paternal grandparents lived in Plovdiv on Sahat tepe [one of the hills in the town of Plovdiv] in an old Bulgarian house with a large chardak [a wooden penthouse] and a big courtyard. The house had a solid stonewall. The atmosphere there was wonderful. I loved going there a lot. There were three large rooms in the house that impressed me very much because I lived in a more humble lodging at that time. I loved to have breakfast on the sofra [a traditional low table] and eat popara [popular breakfast of crumbled bread and fresh milk].

My paternal grandfather had Bulgarian friends mostly. His circle of friends was totally Bulgarian and people used to visit us for lunch or dinner every day. He was a strict, handsome man, but not very tall. I respected him a lot because he was really strict but also a very caring person.

There was a small square near my grandparents’ house and the local circus performed there. I adored going to the circus and watch the animal shows. The economic school and the mixed high school, where I studied for a year before we moved to Sofia, were also in that part of town.

My maternal grandfather died when I was just six years old. I remember that I heard some women talking about that on the street while I was going for a walk in town. I was a very little girl then and I couldn’t understand very well what was going on. I understood it only after my mother explained it to me. According to our traditions women don’t go to the cemetery so I don’t remember my grandfather’s funeral. [Rebeca Gershon thinks that women should not go to the cemetery]

We lived in several places in Plovdiv. We moved from place to place very often because we lived in rented places. The house where we lived first was on the main street, Tsar Osvoboditel opposite Bunardjika [one of the hills in Plovdiv]. After that we went to live on Stranford Street on Sahat tepe. We lived twice on Tsar Osvoboditel Street – once at the beginning of the street and once at its end. The first time our landlords were Jewish and they lived on the upper floor and we lived on the first floor. My brother, Haim Albert Gershon, was born in that house.

I clearly remember that when we lived in the house opposite Bunardjika there wasn’t electricity there and my father used a lantern at nighttime. We used to have a housemaid – a young girl who helped in the household. One evening on our way back home from some visit I started to tease and pull the girl, who was carrying my baby brother then. She dropped him. Fortunately he wasn’t hurt but I got a big thrashing.

I remember another incident that happened in that house. My brother was a very beautiful baby. He had curly hair, blue eyes and big cheeks. I started to be jealous of him because all the attention at home was given to him. One day I asked my mother to let me carry him for a while and along with a cousin of mine we went out onto the terrace. We had bought big red sweets and we tried to stick it in the baby’s mouth. We almost choked him and we were punished afterwards.

My brother was born on 16th January 1929 in Plovdiv. He went to kindergarten there. He started school in Sofia and he got as far as the 3rd class when they interned us to Pleven. Practically he didn’t manage to get education while he lived in Bulgaria. He went to work after we came back to Sofia. He was a skilful boy and he started to work in a shoemaker’s workshop. He made a pair of lovely tourist shoes for everyone in the family before he left for Israel. He got interested in mechanics after he went to Israel, he graduated as a ‘mazger’ [Hebrew for mechanic] there and after that he became a teacher. He has created big construction projects in metallurgy.

I studied in the Jewish school till the 4th class. It was difficult for me there and I started begging my mother to transfer me to another school. I found it really hard to learn a poem in Hebrew by heart. I still don’t speak Hebrew and I’m embarrassed because of that when I go to Israel.

We lived on Karnegi Street and just opposite us was Karnegi school. I changed to that junior high school. Our house was then just between Bunardjika hill and the fire brigades. That’s a very nice quarter of Plovdiv. We lived on the second floor at a cousin’s of my mother, and she lived on the first floor. Another Jewish family that had come from Greece lived on the second floor as well. I started my high school education in Plovdiv – in the 4th class in the mixed school. I moved to Sofia in the summer of 1938 and I went on studying here.

In the last period before we left for Sofia, we lived on Bunardjika hill, opposite the main entrance, on Tsar Osvoboditel Street. It was a twin house, one house split in two. A Greek family lived in one half of the house: a Greek woman and her husband, their two sons, who were students and one daughter. My mother, my father, my brother and I lived in the other half. We had different entrances to the house. The house itself had a big courtyard and lots of plants in it and the Greek woman took care of them. I remember that she used to be very suspicious of us at first –she probably thought that we were going to do harm to her plants – but after she got to know us better, she became our friend. The Greek woman was a Protestant and she tried to persuade my mother to go to the Protestant church gatherings with her. I used to join her because it was interesting for me to watch their meetings and the atmosphere there – the people sitting on the benches and singing psalms – because you can’t see that in our synagogues. This house no more exists now; an apartment block has been built there instead.

I loved to walk around Plovdiv and I had the chance to do so a lot. My favorite places were Sahat tepe, Bunardjika and Maritsa River. A bunch of children used to gather and wander around town. We played a lot of games – I used to play with small balls with the boys, for instance. We took the balls that came with bottles of lemonade or soda. We used to play ‘thieves and policemen’ a lot. Another interesting game was ‘Ghosts’: We used to gather in different houses and pull down the curtains. Then we started to summon ghosts until we seemed to see something and usually one of us got very scared and cried out loud. Of course we used to do that only in our parents’ absence. We used to play hide-and-seek also.

I remember that when we lived on Tsar Osvoboditel Street I used to gather some children and tell them that if we dug the ground we would reach the center of the Earth. I imagined that there was a boat there and we could sail away on it. We started to dig and of course we found nothing. We loved to pick plums and other fruits from the trees in our neighbors’ courtyards and they often scolded us for that.

I’ve always spoken with my friends in Bulgarian. My grandma and my mother spoke Ladino but I thought this language was archaic. We didn’t speak Hebrew. I started to be interested in Ladino just recently because I realized the connection with Spanish.

In my family we used to go shopping on Wednesdays and Thursdays and on Fridays we did the cooking. We didn’t cook on Saturdays, but we turned on the lights and listened to the radio. My family observed the kashrut. We always shopped in shops where the rabbi had put his stamp; we used to eat veal mostly. We ate pork after 9th September 1944 1 for the first time. There was a great food crisis at that time: I got some pork from my work place, I brought it home and that was when my mother cooked pork for the first time.

Our religious life

When I was a little girl, my maternal grandmother used to take me to the synagogue. I remember that she used to take me on the holiday of Yom Kippur – on that day we don’t eat the whole day and then we have dinner at six o’clock in the evening. Then friends and relatives forgive each other their sins. That holiday is devoted both to the living and the dead. After the priest had finished his speech in the synagogue we bit into a big quince and that was the first thing we ate that day. It was a great success if the children managed not to eat the whole day.

We always celebrated Pesach. Then the oldest member of the family reads the prayer that tells the story of the liberation of the Jewish people from the Egyptian invasion. My father was the oldest in our home, but sometimes we used to gather with my mother’s or father’s relatives and then my grandfathers read the prayer. I was more attached to my mother’s family than to my father’s relatives. I felt they were more curious and interested in things.

We observed Chanukkah as well. We had a special chandelier that we used to light on the holiday. We always prepared big festive tables. On Purim they always gave me a small bag filled with different fruits – oranges, apples, dates and walnuts. They used to give us some money, too, and we went straight to the roundabouts and spent it there.

My father perceived religion in his own way. He was mostly interested in politics – he was a great dabbler in politics. My father wasn’t very religious. He became more religious after he went to Israel. He learned Hebrew there and he used to read newspapers. My brother also learned Hebrew perfectly – he used to teach in Hebrew. My father was very studious and he read a lot, though he hadn’t gone to school. He was a thorough Zionist and a revisionist and I often argued with him because I had left-wing convictions. My father and my brother didn’t have enough time to read and educate themselves. Despite that they both had a thorough knowledge of certain matters. They hadn’t studied anything special but knew a lot when it came to geography, history and economics.

My father was a merchant. He traded with haberdashery and worked with villagers mostly. He used to sell ribbons, laces and buttons but unfortunately he didn’t sell any toys. His shop was on the merchant street near the mosque and Maritsa pharmacy. It was a two-storied shop. The first floor was something like a reception-room and the trade articles were on the second floor. My father liked to receive guests on the first floor. That’s why he always had some fresh pastry or other small things to eat with him. As I mentioned before, my father was a devoted revisionist and a Zionist and he was a member of the ‘Jabotinsky’ organization [see Revisionist Zionism] 2 – a Jewish organization that propagandized the idea of reconstructing Israel’s territories via military actions. The organization is named after its founder – Vladimir Jabotinsky 3. Jews in Plovdiv had various political convictions at the time. My father was an extreme right-winger. I remember that there was a member in the organization in which my father participated whose name was Pasi – he was the grandfather of the present minister of foreign affairs Solomon Pasi.

My father used to spend a lot of money on the political meetings in his shop and that’s why he went bankrupt when the crisis of the 1930s 4 started in 1929. My brother was born the same year and that was when poverty started. We had a housemaid as long as we lived on Stranford Street. After that we didn’t have the opportunity to afford a housemaid and my mother started to do the housekeeping on her own.

Plovdiv was like a Jewish country-town for me. I felt very cozy there. My relatives were very united and they used to gather very often and supported each other a lot. Besides I was the only granddaughter in the 1920s and everybody was very kind to me. I lived a carefree life then and I didn’t think about the political and economical situation in Bulgaria at all. I was always well dressed and satisfied.

We used to go on excursions out of Plovdiv every weekend. Sometimes we left on Friday evening. We traveled in drays. We went to Komatovo, Kuklino and Markovo. We passed through lovely walnut forests that unfortunately no longer exist today. We used to bring special barbeque grills with us and light a fire. My parents loved these excursions very much.

Very often – usually on Saturdays – we went to the Casino, a place on Bunardjika hill. We lived nearby and we used to sit together with other families and listen to the music. The singer and dancer Djip was very popular then. We, the children, received some money on Saturdays and we used to buy some food for ourselves – fried livers, grilled rissoles, baked maize. We also went to the confectioner’s shop. Plovdiv was a horn of plenty!

My life in Sofia

My parents and my brother went to live in Sofia in 1937 and I stayed in Plovdiv till the next year. I lived with my uncle Shmuel and I was studying in the mixed school in Plovdiv until I left for Sofia. My life in Plovdiv was charming and I used to cry a lot when I moved to Sofia. I was out of my reasons for entire six months. I went to Sofia in the summer of 1938 and I thought it was very miserable. All was strange and unpleasant to me. I went through this change with great difficulty. After a few months I went to Plovdiv again because it was summer vacation time. I managed to adapt to the new situation only after I came back to Sofia again and I already had close classmates. I used to go to the library club and I had friends there, too.

The first place where my parents settled in Sofia was on Opalchenska Street and after that they moved into the house of a classmate of mine, Ani Pasturkova, on Tsar Simeon Street. Later, in 1943, we were interned to Pleven. I remember one air raid on Sofia. We lived on Tsar Simeon Street then. It was a three-floor house. The raid was terrible. We hid in the basement of a neighboring house. They bombed the railway station and our house was near it and we could hear all the thunder very clearly. In Pleven we saw only squadrons of airplanes flying to Sofia.

My father started to work as a traveling salesman in a chocolate factory in Sofia. He became close to the owner, who realized that my father was a talented and responsible person. My father used to travel around the country and he was in charge of the production disposal in the whole country. My father didn’t have the time to be in contact with the Jews of Sofia. He traveled all the time and never stayed in town for a long time. He was a sociable person and had friends all over the country. The owners’ living standards couldn’t possibly be compared to ours. They were prosperous villagers. His daughter was my classmate in Third Girls’ high school. We didn’t have the financial opportunity to settle in our own home in Sofia. We only had my father’s salary as my brother and I were still students.

I felt the first anti-Semitic moods in 1939 when the Law for the Protection of the Nation 5 was passed. I remember that one day I was taking a walk with a friend of mine on Hristo Botev Boulevard. Suddenly a group of Branniks 6 started to bother us and then fortunately my friend, who wasn’t Jewish, asked an officer, who was passing by, for help. I felt really humiliated wearing the Jewish badge. I was very lucky that I wasn’t violated and maltreated.

The law from 1939 affected those who owned some real-estate property first. We had neither money nor property and even though my father was working for a Bulgarian employer, we also started to feel the stagnation.

In 1942-1943 Brannik was an official organization. I had a classmate in high school that became a member of that organization. It happened that I met her many years after that again. She was a repulsive person. I met her accidentally at the entrance of the Court of Justice. I was with my second husband who had known her from his work place. My husband kissed her on the cheek without knowing what I thought of her. I reacted emotionally and slapped him in the face. I was a trainee in the Court of Justice at that time and my husband was a lawyer. My husband forgave me, though with great difficulty.

I graduated from high school in 1941. We started wearing badges in 1942 so that it would be clear that we were Jews, but despite that we didn’t loose our courage and I tried to start work in Sofia as I had studied to be a typist. We didn’t have the financial means to settle in our own home in Sofia. But in 1943 we were interned to Pleven. We had to sell all the belongings from our house on Tsar Simeon Street where we lived then.

My relatives from Plovdiv were not interned from town. They were put under a restrictive regime. They weren’t allowed to go to work or leave town.

My aunt Ernesta was married to a rabbi in Burgas. He was a Greek citizen. When the persecutions against Jews started, the district governor of Burgas advised him to leave the country so that he wouldn’t be sent to the concentration camp. So the family packed and left for Turkey in 1942 and from there to Israel. My aunt already had two children then. She didn’t live a happy life in Israel and she divorced her husband. We used to write letters to each other and that’s how I learned that. I told her that I would do anything possible to help her come back to Bulgaria if she wanted to, but she didn’t. She stayed in Tel Aviv and later she died of leukemia. I loved this aunt of mine very much.

We were first accommodated in a school in Pleven and after that we were allowed to rent a lodging – just one room in fact. We lived by the road that was leading to Kailuka prison [see Kailuka concentration camp] 7. This region was in the suburbs of the town. Our landlords were very friendly and they invited us to pick grapes from their fruit garden. We used to eat in the public canteen [Jewish newcomers in the town received free food at a certain place at a certain exact hour]. I started work in a shoe factory. I became a so-called ‘saiadjiika’ because I was among the ones that made the ‘sai’, the upper parts of the shoes.

I had a very unpleasant time in Pleven. Only some people around me were good. I worked with many other girls in the shoe factory; other people used to go and work in the vineyards. One of the masters in the factory repressed me quite a lot – he kept watching me and bothered me all the time. He tormented me and when he was in a bad mood he made me go out and collect the leather cuttings. There was no reason whatsoever to do that. Finally, the factory owner approached me and advised me to quit and so I did. I went to another factory, where the owner was a fascist. Fortunately there was a nice Jewish man of my father’s age who was working there and he helped me become acquainted with the atmosphere and protected me all the time. Thanks God, 9th September [1944] came and I quit my job there.

The factory master was impudent enough to come to Sofia to look for me. I threatened him with an arrest. I couldn’t understand how a grown up man with a family could do such a thing. So, that was quite a bad period for me. Thanks to our Jewish ability to organize ourselves, we managed to go through it. We used to gather every Saturday and Sunday without any special reason for doing so. We even assembled a music band in which the musicians played the violin. We used to sing and give lectures.

Some very curious and paradoxical things happened in Pleven. I met three young men who treated me as if I was a princess though they were extreme left-wingers. One of them was even a legionnaire [see Bulgarian Legions] 8. They protected me and one of them was even in love with me and gave me a beautiful bracelet as a gift. We used to go for walks together, I visited his house, and I trusted him very much. They treated me like real gentlemen.

I met a member of the famous and rich family Aseo in Pleven. This family owned big real-estate properties in Sofia, including the most famous cinema in town. He was a young man and still a student, but his hair had turned gray. We became close but after we returned to Sofia our lives separated.

My father, his brother and my maternal uncle were sent to forced labor camps 9 during the Holocaust. My maternal uncle hadn’t been interned, but he was sent to a ghetto that was built especially for Jews. My father was sent to the forced labor groups in Belene [a town in North Bulgаria]. We understood where he was allocated much later and we couldn’t contact him while he was in the forced labor groups. We didn’t have any other funds but my small salary at that time. My father was a very tough man and he was sick only once when he was already old. In 1988 he had a severe stroke and was put in a medical care center.

My return to Sofia

I returned to Sofia in October 1944. The trains were crowded. After 9th September 1944 I was invited straight to the district administration of the Ministry of Internal Affairs in Pleven. I worked there and used to type reports. When it was announced that we could go back to Sofia, I went to the district governor who was a very nice man and gave me several recommendation letters. When I came back to Sofia I went to the Police Department on Lavov most Square. An amiable man accepted me to work in the passport department there.

My parents came back a little time after me and found accommodation in a two-storied house on Tsar Ivan-Assen II Street. I received accommodation from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on Graf Ignatiev and Tolbuhin Blvd [today Vasil Levski]. The lodging on Ivan Assen II Street consisted of two rooms only, that’s why we went to live on 2, Tolbuhin Blvd in the ex-lodging of a colleague of mine. We shared that place with a compatriot of mine – a Jewish woman who didn’t want us at first – she even put out our luggage twice. We became good friends in the end. She lived in one of the rooms and my family – my mother, my father, my brother and I – had a kitchen, a living-room and a bedroom. The apartment was enormous. After my parents moved to Israel, I was offered to buy the apartment, but my first husband, Miuntzer Blagoev Zahariev, didn’t agree because he believed that everything would become state property. Later we had to vacate the apartment because the owner’s sister wanted to sell it. Meanwhile my parents went to Israel. After that my first husband and I moved to Marin Drinov Street.

I haven’t had any problems at my workplace because of my Jewish origin. I remember an incident when a female officer at the Police Department was telling a story about how she had been chased out by her landlord. There was a certain practice then that the authorities used to settle the newcomers in Sofia in the houses and apartments of other people. She called the owner of the lodging where she was settled ‘a dirty Jew’. The same had happened to that officer. I stood up and slapped her face. I was also settled in such a lodging on Tolbuhin Boulevard at that time. I would have never called my landlord that way, even if she had been Bulgarian. After that incident my boss threatened me with court procedures. It all turned out fine in the end and we even remained friends.

The BCP [Bulgarian Communist Party] took a party decision regarding the departure of Jews – everyone could go. The director of the Police Department then called to tell me that even if I applied for departure they wouldn’t let me go for at least five or six years. And they really only let me see my relatives after 13 years – in 1963. After the coup d’etat of 9th September 1944 I had left-wing political convictions [pro-communist]. Although many compatriots of mine left, I myself didn’t want to. I made some pro-forma steps just to please my parents.

After 9th September 1944 I took steps so that my brother could go and specialize in the Bata 10 company school in the Czech Republic. He didn’t get a good record form his work and he didn’t manage to leave. Maybe if he had got a good record and would have gone to the Czech Republic, he wouldn’t have gone to Israel that soon. That was a turning point in his life.

After Israel was founded, the Jews started to leave Bulgaria. My parents left in 1949 and my relatives from Plovdiv in 1948. There was a mass aliyah 11 after that and all my friends left. Just 10,000 out of 45,000 people stayed here, and I don’t know if there are even 5,000 Jews left in Bulgaria today. My parents were put in so-called ‘srikove’ – special barracks. My brother didn’t want to be settled in a lodging in the town and his first home was in Iafo – in the newly-built part of the city.

My father started work in Israel immediately. The conditions were severe because there wasn’t enough work for all newcomers. They looked for work at many places. My brother tells this sad story about how my father and he went from Pardes Hanah, where they had been in the camps, right down to Haifa to look for work but they didn’t manage to find any. They slept in the open air and had to come back in the end. My brother worked in the lime-stores and his legs were burnt there. After that my father found work as a manager in a municipal building company called Amidar that built homes for the newcomers. He used to help people settle and they loved and respected him a lot. When he announced that he was going to retire at the age of 78, a large number of people came and asked him to stay. He received a good pension while my mother used to get a social pension. They had their own house and my brother inherited it.

I used to go to the Jewish cultural club Klimentina quite often before the internment to Pleven. I loved to read and I went there mostly for that. Gradually I met different people there who started to educate me. I was in a Jewish circle before the internment. After I came back I went on visiting the Jewish community center and I even used to sing in the choir. But as a police officer my working time was unlimited and that was an obstacle for me to continue going there. My circle then consisted of my colleagues and a friend from school.

My first husband

I met my first husband at work. He wasn’t Jewish. His father was a co-worker of Georgi Dimitrov 12 and Vasil Kolarov [a minister in Dimitrov’s government]. His family left underground for Russia in 1923. They came back from Moscow in 1947. He graduated in law. We got married in December 1949. My parents didn’t attend the ceremony.

I didn’t observe the Jewish holidays then. It wasn’t popular to celebrate holidays after 9th September 1944. Most of my friends were Bulgarians. My husband was a strange person and he lived in isolation. He accepted his brothers only. That’s how I gradually became estranged from my Jewish circle.

I went on living on 2, Tolbuhin Blvd after my parents left. I lived there with my husband. He was in conflict with Valko Chervenkov [then minister of culture] because of some objections that my husband had against the communist party rule. On the other hand his mother lived with the thought that she was an active party functionary. They had even been chased out of their apartment following an order by Valko Chervenkov.

I worked in the Police Department till 1951. They fired my husband then – he worked as an inspector there – because he didn’t get along with the management of the department, and they also fired me. That made me very happy because as long as I was working there I was very restricted and I felt it was a burden for me. We got one extra salary and I remember that I went to the textile shop, which was located where the American Embassy is today, and I bought some wonderful fabrics there. I received job recommendations while Miuntzer got a penalty from the party. My recommendations were for three jobs. I chose the Union of the Bulgarian-Soviet Societies. The other recommendation was for the City Committee of the BCP. The Union of the Bulgarian-Soviet Societies was then located on Mizia Street and I started there as head of international relations. I worked there till my departure for China.

After my husband was fired in 1951, he didn’t start to work again until 1954. I provided for him for four years. In 1954 the minister of finance Kiril Lazarov, who was Miuntzer’s godfather, became a press attaché in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He recommended Miuntzer for a mandate in China and so we went there. We lived in China for four years. Miuntzer worked as a second secretary of the Bulgarian embassy in China.

When I was in China I used to send my letters to my parents to Miuntzer’s mother in Bulgaria first and then she put them in another envelope and sent them on to Israel. In the times when I was in Bulgaria I used to send my letters to Israel directly.

When I returned from China I didn’t have a job and I decided to finish my education. I had passed exams for law in 1956. After that I had to leave university, as I didn’t have enough time to study and work at the same time. When I came back from China I applied at the dean’s office to continue my education. I graduated in 1967. I started to work with the Jurists Union. I was a legal consultant with the Water Industry company after that and I retired from there.

My second husband

I divorced Miuntzer Blagoev in 1965 because of the great trouble he brought upon himself with his attitude towards the official authorities and the consequences this had for me. I got married for the second time in 1974, to a compatriot of mine; I knew him from my school years. My second husband’s name was Solomon Levi. He brought into the marriage and left me a son and a daughter that I wouldn’t have, had I not met him. I get along very well with them. They have helped me a lot – especially when I had to move to new houses. The years I lived with my second husband were full of many pleasant moments and many excursions to the countryside. After we got married we went on a journey to Israel and on the way back we passed through Greece.

When my parents were still alive I used to go to Israel very often – every two or three years. Sometimes it was difficult to leave. There was an absurd situation – when my mother was on her deathbed, they told me that I could only go to Israel if I was going for a funeral. That happened in 1983. My husband had already died then. My mother died the next year.

During the wars in Israel I supported my people entirely and I could have been punished for that. I believed that this country should exist because so many people had died for it. I was a trainee at the People’s Court then. I remember that a young colleague, whose father was a dean of the Faculty of Economics, used to bring a map of the Near East every day and mark off the military action places with flags.

I remember a meeting when Todor Zhivkov 13 held a speech and he mentioned the Arab-Israeli conflict. One of the people then said that he was ready to go and fight on the Arabian side, but Todor Zhivkov answered ironically to that.

I think that the political developments in Eastern Europe are quite normal. The process of the opening of Eastern Europe is right.

I thought that the Russian military invasion in the Czech Republic was something normal. I thought that things were going in the wrong direction there – I was brought up that way. During the developments in the Czech Republic I was in Israel visiting a friend of mine – a colleague. She was a great communist. She was married to a very amiable doctor. She had been fired and punished for having an affair with one of her superiors, who was falsely accused of being an ‘enemy’. My friend’s name is Beka Francez. When I visited her she expressed an opinion against the intervention of the Soviet Union. I was amazed. That was a heresy for me then. Despite the negative consequences of my marriage to Miuntzer – I always knew that if I only mentioned that I was his wife I would have been fired right away – I believed that I should be true to the party [the BCP].

I retired in 1978. I was very scared straight after 1989 [following the events of 10th November 1989] 14. I thought that we would return to a past that I was afraid of and hated. Then I realized that it was time for a change in both politics and economics. The Soviet Union first signaled for that. I understood then that nothing is just black and white but that there are nuances. Not everyone who isn’t a BSP member is a fascist, and not everyone who is a BSP member is a democrat etc. I started to see people as people, not as members of a certain party. We were very politicized after 1989. I understand now that one man cannot make politics just by himself. I value people by their qualities now.

I live well with my brother’s support and I don’t have to worry about my living now. I gather with the Jewish community. Unfortunately I don’t have many close friends.

My family background
Growing up
My school years
During the war
Post-war
Glossary

1 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.

2 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.

3 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.

4 Crisis of the 1930s

The world economic crisis that began in 1929 devastated the Bulgarian economy. The social tensions of the 1920s were exacerbated when 200,000 workers lost their jobs, prices fell by 50 percent, dozens of companies went bankrupt, and per capita income among peasants was halved between 1929 and 1933.

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 expulsed 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 Brannik

Pro-fascist youth organization. It started functioning 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.

7 Kailuka concentration 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 concentration 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 concentration 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.

8 Bulgarian Legions

9 Forced labor camps in Bulgaria

Established under the Council of Ministers’ Act in 1941. All Jewish men between the age 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.

10 Bata, Tomas (1876-1932)

Czech industrialist. From a small shoemaking business, he built up the largest leather factory in Europe in 1928, producing 75,000 pairs of shoes a day. His son took over the business after his father’s death in a plane crash in 1932, turned the village of Zlin, where the factory was, into an industrial center and provided lots of Czechs with jobs. He expanded the business to Canada in 1939, took a hundred Czech workers along with him, and thus saved them from becoming victims of the Nazi regime.

11 Mass Aliyah

Between September 1944 and October 1948, 7,000 Bulgarian Jews left for Palestine. The exodus was due to deep-rooted Zionist sentiments, a 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. Further numbers 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 emigrated to Israel until only a few thousand Jews remained in the country.

11 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.

12 Zhivkov, Todor (1911-1998)

First Secretary of the Central Committee of the ruling Bulgarian Communist Party (1954-1989) and the leader of Bulgaria (1971-1989). His 35 years as Bulgaria's ruler made him the longest-serving leader in any of the Soviet-block nations of Eastern Europe. When communist governments across Eastern Europe began to collapse in 1989, the aged Zhivkov resigned from all his posts. He was placed under arrest in January 1990. Zhivkov was convicted of embezzlement in 1992 and sentenced to seven years' imprisonment. He was allowed to serve his sentence under house arrest.

13 10th November 1989

After 35 years of rule, Communist Party leader Todor Zhivkov was replaced by 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 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.

Maria Eva Feheri

Maria and Tamas Feheri

Maria Eva Feheri
Budapest
Hungary
Interviewers: Dora Sardi, Eszter Andor
Date of interview: September 2001

My paternal grandfather’s name was Jozsef Antal. I think his father lived in Austria, and he was named something like Anton. But I don’t know much about them, only that he was already Antal when, in the 1930s I knew him for a few years, because he died in 1938. I was so little, that when he died, I didn’t understand why so many people were coming. I was just staring, ‘Look how many guests there are!’ and I started to laugh. And my mother told me, ‘Shh, shh, this is because grandfather died’. After that, they hardly talked about him. Grandmother always cried, ‘Poor papa!’ He wasn’t too old, he must have been about 60. As far as I know he was born in Budapest. I think he was a kind of trader. I’m sure he didn’t have a shop here. He may have been an employee at some kind of company.

Whether my grandfather was religious, I don’t know, but the two of them, my grandfather and grandmother, observed holidays, I think; at least, they kept the fast [on Yom Kippur]. Perhaps they even went to the synagogue, but I’m not sure about that. They didn’t tell me about it because my father had converted to Christianity. It’s certain that my father was already non-religious. My grandmother kept the fasts even after the war, and there were those kinds of meals at holidays. As far as I know, I knew matzah balls from there. When I grew older, after the war, I fasted with her in solidarity, despite the fact that we had already converted. And I think she was kosher at first, because it seemed as if she cooked things separately, but then she may have put up with the fact that it was not like that in our house.

Grandmother Ella Kohn was from Szekesfehervar. I think she might have met my grandfather there. My grandmother was a housewife. Two children were born: my father and his younger brother, and she raised them. After my grandfather’s death, she moved to our place and lived with us until her death. She died at the beginning of the 1950s, and she was around 80 years old. Before the war she had a separate room, but she didn’t have one afterwards, she had only a small vestibule because our flat had been bombed. As a doctor, my father got an official residence room in Rokus hospital. There we were, the four of us and grandmother in the vestibule on a divan-bed. It was pretty hard for all of us, living in the one-bedroom apartment. Obviously there was tension because there wasn’t a very good relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. My mother was terribly troubled by grandmother’s having moved in, and that grandma always observed what she was doing, and what kind of company she kept.

My father’s brother was Jeno Antal. I think he was two or three years younger than my father. He went to America in 1938. He was a violinist and he played in the Rock Quartet, which is said to have been a renowned quartet. He got married back when he was still at home, to Katalin Bant, daughter of Bant, who owned the bread factory, and they never had children. They wanted to bring us to the US. It was discussed back in 1941-42, but the Americans didn’t want to let us in. Jeno Antal lived and worked up until the age of 80-82, then he died in America. Once he visited us here.

My maternal grandfather was Rezso Rasko. He died about the time I was born, and he must have been around 60 or 70 years old, because they said he died young here in Budapest, after having a tooth extracted. I think he was from Budapest, and I know he was a wood-agent. Grandmother Julia Altmann was from Transylvania. When they came to Budapest, I don’t know. My mum was born in Kezdivasarhely, but if I’m correct, her sisters were not. I think they came to Budapest around World War I, or even before. My grandmother’s father was Christian. Her mother, when she became a widow, already had a big daughter, and together with this Jewish girl, this Jewish woman got married to a very decent Christian farm manager. Because her mother was Jewish, my grandmother was Jewish, too. My grandmother believed in God and prayed. I remember a prayer book, in which she’d put a lock of my hair, as the first grandchild. But my grandparents couldn’t have been very observant. Grandmother didn’t work, she gave birth to five children, and brought them up. She was a wonderful grandmother, a real brood-hen; she was always talking about the five children, about how hard it was with that many girls. My mother and her brother were always fighting. There were big pillow fights and they played hide-and-seek in the dark. My mother also told me about it when I was sick and I really envied all those children; how good it must have been. Grandmother lived with her daughter Margit most of the time. She always came over to us, and looked after me and my younger brother. She was 81 or 82 years old, when she died, in or around 1958.

My grandmother had five children. The first daughter was my mother, Erzsebet Rasko, born in 1904. Two years later Margit was born. She worked for my grandfather’s wood agency and she was a businesswoman until the end of her life. She got married to a man named Lajos Biro, who died in the war, in forced labor, I think. She has one son. In 1956 she went first to Austria, then she lived in London, and decided that from then on, they would keep it a secret that they were Jews. She died something like six or eight years ago.

Next was Laszlo, he was born in 1909. I believe he was employed in the wood trade. He had a wife and a daughter. Laszlo died in the war. He tried to run away from forced labor and was shot by an Arrow Cross man. His family survived, his wife remarried, and in 1956 they emigrated to America.

After him came Rene. She was born in 1910 and she is still alive and lives in London. She got married to a man named Vadasz before the war. This Vadasz family was taken away by the Germans, despite the fact that they gave lots of money to the Gestapo, because it was a rich family. She also went to London with Margit in 1956, and she learnt physiotherapy there. She has one child.

The last one was Katalin, or Kato, she was born in 1915 or 1916. She had a high school diploma, then after the war, she worked at the Red Cross and she made aliyah in 1949. It was a terrible thing that her husband, who was half Jewish, was shot dead by the Arrow Cross 1 men because he was ‘disguised’ in military uniform. Then the Russians came, and one of them caught her and raped her. Then she said she’d had enough of this country and she left in 1949. She got married to a Transylvanian Jewish boy. They lived in Eilat [Israel], then, after the death of her husband, she went into a kibbutz. She has two daughters, Judit and Hanna. Judit is a teacher of handicapped children and she has three children. Hanna still works in the kibbutz now. She also has five children. Kato died recently.

My father Pal Antal was born in Budapest in 1898. First he was an internal specialist, and when they began to dismiss or displace Jewish doctors he learnt pathology, and he was a pathologist until he died. My mother graduated from the Szilagyi high school, and then she studied something to do with horticulture, and she worked in that field. She learnt to tailor and to sew just as a hobby. But she didn’t really have a profession; she was a housewife, and was at home. Later, after the war, she worked in public health as a hospital caretaker, and she completed courses. So she was skilled in hospital management. First she was in the Rokus hospital, then she was the manager of the Bakats Square hospital. My parents had their wedding in 1929, but it was only a civil ceremony.

I was born in 1930, my brother Istvan seven years later. I believe they hadn’t planned another child because my mother told me that they went hiking in the Bakony mountain, and it was very cold, and she snuggled up to my father, and she didn’t have pessary on her. They were very happy though that it was a boy and he ate well – because I didn’t eat well – and he was very talented musically. I was very motherly with my brother, but being 14 I didn’t know what to do with a seven-year-old boy. And then, when I was 27 and he was 20, we started to get along very well. We could discuss everything, though we met very rarely. He went to the Academy of Music, and then he played the viola in an orchestra. He had a family and children, too. He died in 1985. He was still very young.

During my childhood we lived in Klotild Street. The apartment was very nice, with three rooms and a hall, and it had a servant’s room; I got the servant’s room later, so that I could have a separate room. We had a very pretty maidservant, named Ami, she did everything: cleaned, washed, cooked and served. Then in 1938, when dad was dismissed, my mother let her go. Then mum cooked and served. We had a big library at home. Dad was very serious, and he let me read everything. He had all kinds of books, including the classics. If he started reading a book and he felt from its style that this wasn’t real literature, he put it down instantly; he had such delicate tastes. Besides all this, he was a good mathematician. My father was on night duty in the old Madach theatre, and he took me there sometimes, and it was free. Mother didn’t go because my brother was small then. They took us to the children’s theatre – Uncle Lakner’s Children’s theatre – once or twice, and to the cinema, once or twice. My parents’ friends were mostly doctors and doctors who played music, and sometimes, in the evening, they performed chamber music at our place.

My father worked as a pharmaceutical advertiser for a German company for a while in 1938. In the 1930s one could foresee that Jews weren’t going to be allowed to stay. That was a very good position. That was one point. The other one was that he used to go out to the counties to tell the medical officers which medicine was good for what. Then he would stay with them for a few days at a time, and it would come out who-and-what he was, when, on Sundays, he didn’t go to church with them. He wasn’t that religious, for him it didn’t mean anything, I think, that he converted to Christianity only because he could support his family better this way. We didn’t talk about this much, unfortunately, and that’s all I know about it.

I think he had converted to Christianity earlier, before my birth. Still, as my mother is Jewish, at the time of my birth I was registered as an Israelite. And in 1937 he had me convert. My brother was already born a Christian, and he wasn’t circumcised.

My school years

I went to elementary school in Szemere Street. I knew I was of Jewish origin and that we wanted to go to America because of this, and perhaps the schoolmistress knew as well, because when it was a Jewish holiday she said to me, ‘You can also stay at home if you want’. She didn’t understand that my father didn’t insist on me being half-Jewish. The schoolmistress took it that we were doing it to save our lives, but that we surely wanted to keep the holidays.

School was in the morning, I had lunch at home, and so did my father. After lunch I did homework and went to skate, and sometimes to my girlfriend’s to play. My father began to give violin lessons because he was a great musician, although that wasn’t what he had studied, and he tried to teach me, but I think it didn’t go well. I would have liked to play the piano very much, but buying a piano was out of the question.

I think I made friends mostly with Jewish girls in school. But it wasn’t just because they were Jews, but because the social classes were very sharply divided: most of the Christian girls were wretched little proles. I had a very good girlfriend who was Christian; her family was very decent and they even made friends with my parents. It didn’t bother me that I didn’t go to Jewish religion classes, while my Jewish girlfriends did. This wasn’t a matter of discussion between the children. I remember instead that it was unpleasant that they were always wealthier because dad had already lost his [good] job, he could already only be an assistant doctor. But merchants and lawyers somehow earned more in the 1930s, and I always had lesser things: I wasn’t bought a bicycle, I didn’t have such good dresses at parties. I think there wasn’t a children’s party at our apartment during my school years because my mother was always afraid that we wouldn’t have enough money.

My auntie Rene regularly invited us to her villa because she had a rich husband and they had a villa in Balatonszeplak [near Lake Balaton]. Grandmother organized it so that she would look after each set of grandchildren for two weeks at a time. In Lepence there was a guesthouse where we went with acquaintances. But we never went abroad.

We had Christmas, but without keeping any of the Christian rites, such as presents, surprises, or a Christmas tree. You could see that my mother wanted to assimilate in this respect. She wasn’t religious either. We didn’t keep any other holidays as far as I know. I don’t remember any Easter, and we didn’t celebrate name days, only birthdays and Christmas. There was never a word about religion, right up until I was admitted to the state high school. Then I was taken to the nuns because the Catholic school admitted Jewish children, even if both parents weren’t Catholics, and the state school didn’t.

When I entered the school of the Ursula order, I had to take part in all kinds of things. In addition to this there was First Communion even in the elementary school. For one or two years I got giddy about how nice a thing the nun’s profession was, because I read about the life of small saints and I decided that I would be like them. I became a very good child then and my mother was surprised. And my father didn’t mind me going to communion in the morning, which had to be attended without breakfast. I think he looked on kindly at these things.

We prayed before and after every lesson, and we put on a veil on Sunday, and it was a great thing to serve at mass, but they only let me do it once. However, it was a problem being a Jew there, and we knew who was and who wasn’t. There was a kind of unspoken acknowledgement there. I was very afraid of the anti-Semite girls. But the class-mistress, Ms. Eva, who was secular, said that if she heard any child discriminating against other children, she would have that child expelled. Once, just as a joke, in order to make the others believe I wasn’t a Jew, I said, ‘Look, this girl has a nose like a Jew’, and to this, the girl said that she would tell Ms. Eva about it. I thought that would be such a scandal. But eventually it came out, after I won a school swimming competition, and the physical education instructor said that I should go along and join KISOP, which was a youth sports club. My mother told me that I shouldn’t go because they ask for the certificate of baptism of four grandparents – because that was in 1943 – and then I had to go to Ms. Emi and tell her that I couldn’t go because not all four of my grandparents were Christian. I was very nervous and I couldn’t sleep at night, for fear of what Ms. Emi was going to say about it. She said, ‘Antal, are you Jewish?’ And that was that. But I couldn’t go swimming any more.

My father taught me to do sports and not be afraid; he let me swim in the cold Danube and took me walking in the forest. We went on hikes with friends on Sundays. There was a steady group of friends. And I know that before we were broke, my father had a motor boat and we went to Szentendre [holiday village in the Curb of the Danube]. Dad bought some kind of land once in Monor before the war and we never saw it again because we didn’t go after it. It was never built on. It was only an investment that he made with the compensation that I believe he got for being dismissed from his work advertising pharmaceuticals.

In high school, I wanted to try what it was like to be a half-boarder. I had a great herd instinct in me and I was very sorry that in the 1940s, when my wealthier girlfriends could afford to go to a children’s holiday resort, my parents couldn’t afford it. Then I tried this half-board status and I ate with them for a few weeks and I studied in the study room in the afternoons. Then I got bored of it, or my mother got bored of it, because they asked for both money and ration tickets.

We had a uniform, like a sailor blouse with stripes and black stockings. Every day we had to wear that. Later when textiles were sold for points, we said that we couldn’t get black stockings, only drab or only knee-stockings. They told us to pull them up so that our knees couldn’t be seen.

I went there until the spring of 1944. I studied hard there. When the yellow star [yellow star in Hungary] 2 came, I decided that I shouldn’t go any more because you couldn’t go to school wearing it. It was March and I didn’t go any more. After the war I went to the Raskai high school and graduated from there in 1949.

During the war my father was fired from his German company, then from the university hospital, then from Janos hospital – there, too, he was a pathologist, but he worked for free. And then he stopped going in when a decree was issued that Jewish doctors couldn’t enter the hospital area [which was part of the anti-Jewish laws in Hungary] 3. In 1944 he was taken to forced labor. He was in Pocsmegyer for a short while. The Russian troops were already close then and they brought them back home to Pest [Budapest] and took them to the ghetto.

The house that we lived in on Klotild Street became a yellow-star house 4 because there were a lot of Jews there. In October 1944, when the Jews had already been deported from the countryside, the Arrow Cross men went into the yellow-star houses and said that everybody had to come out and they would take us to work. First the men, then a few weeks later the women were taken. And when they wanted to take my mother, too, she lay down on the bed as if she was sick and couldn’t go. A policeman, who looked like he was the father of a family himself, came and told her to get up right then. And she started pretending that she was sick, she couldn’t breathe, so the policeman brought a glass of water. But when she said that she couldn’t get up, he held up his gun and said, ‘Get up or I’ll shoot you right now!’ And at that very moment my grandmother entered and started screaming, ‘My daughter Bozsi what’s happening to you here?’ In the meantime the Arrow Cross man shouted to the policeman to come and he said, ‘This one here is having convulsions’. To this the Arrow Cross man said, ‘Leave her to hell, let’s go!’ And he left with the group. At that very moment my mother got up, she grabbed my brother and me and said that we wouldn’t stay here. She ran away with us.

A few days later my mother found a Swedish protected hospital and children’s home at 26 Erzsebet Boulevard and she took us there. It was a two-bedroom apartment, where about sixty children slept and we got along quite well. She said that she was a nurse and her husband was a doctor, and that she worked there on the ground floor with the sick old Jews. She placed us children there.

I was fourteen years old then, and I had a report book from the nuns. I said that I would find out about dad –
see whether he had gone home. The caretaker was a very decent man and he said that dad had been there and left a message that he was at 30 Akacfa Street, in the ghetto. I did all this without a yellow star. I went in, as at the time, the entrance to the ghetto was still open. I went up and dad was lying on a straw mattress with fifteen others. My father said, ‘Come on in, let’s stay together. I’m a doctor and I’ll get a servant’s room for the four of us’. And then we were there in the ghetto in a small servant’s room that faced the courtyard, and we didn’t even go down to the cellar – right up until the Soviet troops came in.

After graduation, I got married right away. At the banquet I was already married because Tamas, or Tomi, Weisz was to be sent to the Soviet Union to study right away. I said that we should get married because I had been dating him for years. Around 1943, I frequently went out to Marguerite Island with girlfriends, and boys always went there with us. He was one of them. And then he disappeared in the war. He was hiding with his mum in parks, everywhere. He was taken to a brickyard, and he escaped. And then he and his mum somehow always came and went to and from parks. They went home at night, then into a yellow-star house in Ujlipotvaros [a bourgeois part of Budapest, where a lot of middle-class Jewish families used to live].

Post-war

After the war Tomi graduated from the College of Theatre and Film Arts. His father, Lajos Weisz, was a dry goods agent, but he died of a disease in 1943. His mother was a dressmaker and she supported Tamas as long as he needed. After college, Tomi found a position at the Hungarian Film Newsreel Co.

When we got married we didn’t know where to live. We went to my mother-in-law’s for two days, but she was married by then, and her husband said that this wasn’t the reason he had gotten married: to share the place with us. Then my aunt Rene, who had also got married again, put us up in the rear quarter of her villa. My other aunt put us up for a few months. Slowly a year passed and Tamas got a single-bedroom union apartment at the Newsreel for his good work. We lived there for a while, until we came here in the spring of 1956. Tomi was still working at the Newsreel, and later it became the Newsreel Documentary Film Studio. There were always bonuses at the Newsreel. So we bought a car in 1960.

When a placard appeared in the streets in 1945 that said, ‘Hungarian Youth! Come on, do sports, have fun, dance!’, I said that this time I was like everyone else. And I joined MADISZ [Hungarian Democratic Youth Alliance] 5 so that I could dance and do sports. And they told me to stay: there would be work, there would be dances, and I’d see that everybody was the same from now on. And I liked it very much and I took the ideology for granted as well. I couldn’t believe what some of my other girlfriends told me about the Soviet Union. I was a believer with all my heart. I could argue even in tramways if somebody scorned it. Then there were still religion classes at school and our priest disparaged MADISZ a great deal. And then there was an argument between classmates and MADISZ members.

There were many Jews in the fifth district MADISZ organization. I think that the Jews I knew there believed that it was a new world and that the old one had been awful because we and our parents had been taken and had yellow stars put on and been spat on. And there shouldn’t be any more of this and the Communist Party and MADISZ was the best way to avoid it. And the others were proles who felt that they could become somebody, that we could finally study.

My father once talked with a friend who told him, ‘Pal you belong here, you have principles that are Marxist, join!’ And then my father joined and my mother joined, too. And when the resettlements [resettlement in Hungary] 6 came, a very decent, not-at-all-capitalist retailer-friend of ours, who had even brought food to us in the ghetto, was resettled, despite the fact that he had diabetes, and my father wrote to Rakosi [Rakosi regime] 7 about it. He was extraordinarily naive. In 1944 he had thought that if we did what the Germans wanted, there wouldn’t be any problems. And here he thought that if he wrote to Rakosi, they would bring back poor Gyula Marczis. Instead, they convened a party meeting in the Rokus hospital and he was expelled from the Party in 1952.

In 1956 [Revolution of 1956] 8 I would have liked to have left but my father said that in spite of the terrible things that had happened to him, because of his expulsion from the Party, we didn’t have to go away from here; the situation would become calmer now. And Tamas didn’t want to go because he said that he had a machine on loan to him from the Ministry of Light Industry and they would say that he was trying to steal it. Also, Gyuri, my son, was just three years old.

When I got married, I went to work at the Motion Picture Co. in the youth-organizing department where the pioneers were organized for Soviet films – in the largest possible numbers, and for Sunday mornings if possible, so that they couldn’t go to church.

In 1952 when my father was expelled from the Party I was already working at the Culture Department of the Pioneer Center as film organizer and I went in to the cadre official to say that my father had been expelled. He said he was sure that he could clear his case, but they relocated me to a district administrative position. In the meantime in the youth party school one of my girlfriends said to me, ‘Mari, we should study something, let’s go to the teacher training college’. What I had been interested in all my life was sports, physical education, but there was Hungarian language and literature here in the evening course and I graduated from that. At the time I was already known in the pioneer center in Obuda because I was an district chief secretary and I was still going to college and there was a position there. I taught in an elementary school, paid by the hour. I taught in several schools, then I got a real contract at Vorosvari Street. I worked there for many, many years.

In 1952 I had a premature delivery, Andras: he died quite soon after. Then came Gyuri in 1953, and in 1965 there was Gabor, who later died at the age of 19. He had just started university. He was a Hungarian-English major. It came suddenly, it’s called sarcoma. If it caught a young man, it killed him within months. Gyuri graduated from Eotvos Lorand University, majoring in Hungarian and Aesthetics. When it turned out that kidney disease is treated better elsewhere than here, he left. First he went with a scholarship, then in Berlin he made contacts in the Hungarian House [Hungarian cultural institution in Berlin], and he has worked there since. He’s a program manager there.

The children knew that they were Jews, we didn’t hide that, but we didn’t raise them to be religious because we already didn’t believe, either. When, in 1956 my son asked about little Jesus [traditionally, Christmas presents are said to be brought by little Jesus, rather than Santa Claus], when he was three years old, my husband said to him, ‘Gyuri, there is no little Jesus, but you don’t have to tell that to others because it hurts people’. It happened once, in a shop, that somebody asked, ‘Son, what has little Jesus brought you?’ He said to the man that there was no little Jesus and that, ‘[his] father told me that one doesn’t have to talk about this’. So Gyuri knew, and Gabor knew as well. And our close friends knew. Somehow our circle of friends formed in a way that they were all Jews, with one exception.

I didn’t really read newspapers, despite the fact that, as a party member, I should have, but I wasn’t interested in them. I didn’t know anything about Israel, except that Kato, my mother’s sister, was there and that it was not advised to correspond with her because that was not taken well here, and then I wouldn’t get a passport to go to the West as a tourist. For a long time we didn’t correspond with Margit, nor with Rene, who lived in London, but then, in the 1960s, we could even go there to visit them. And then we did. But I didn’t know anything about Israel. I knew about the establishment of the State of Israel and about the problems, when I read the book entitled ‘Exodus’ in the 1960s. I thought a little bit about how good it must be to live there where everybody is Jewish. I was there for the first time in 1985 and then I saw that perhaps not everything was so good there.

Of course my sense of being Jewish strengthened in me after the change of regime, because anti-Semitism began. And then, if you read things like that, it gets into your mind. That never came to my mind in the party state, because this was not a matter for discussion. Or rather, it seems it was – only it was done very much under cover, those who were Jewish hid the fact. And I didn’t know about the trials against Jews in the Soviet Union [the Doctors’ Plot 9].

Today I don’t go to any kind of temple, because that is my childhood. It’s like when somebody says it was a wonderful world because that was his youth. In the meantime my cousin from Israel started to come here and send presents; then I went to Israel. So now, I belong more. But it’s one thing to belong to the Jews and another that I can’t believe that there is a God who demands me to keep certain traditions. I can’t imagine that children have to wear payes, and girls have to wear long, warm dresses, or that it’s a problem if you eat noodles with cottage cheese. Would a God care about these things? I regard these things as absolutely childish and naive.

Family background
Growing up
During the war
Post-war
Glossary

1 Arrow Cross Party

The most extreme of the Hungarian fascist movements in the mid-1930s. The party consisted of several groups, though the name is now commonly associated with the faction organized by Ferenc Szalasi and Kalman Hubay in 1938. Following the Nazi pattern, the party promised not only the establishment of a fascist-type system including social reforms, but also the ‘solution of the Jewish question’. The party's uniform consisted of a green shirt and a badge with a set of crossed arrows, a Hungarian version of the swastika, on it. On 15th October 1944, when governor Horthy announced Hungary's withdrawal from the war, the Arrow Cross seized power with military help from the Germans. The Arrow Cross government ordered general mobilization and enforced a regime of terror which, though directed chiefly against the Jews, also inflicted heavy suffering upon the Hungarians. It was responsible for the deportation and death of tens of thousands of Jews. After the Soviet army liberated the whole of Hungary by early April 1945, Szalasi and his Arrow Cross ministers were brought to trial and executed.

2 Yellow star in Hungary

Yellow star in Romania: On 8th July 1941, Hitler decided that all Jews from the age of 6 from the Eastern territories had to wear the Star of David, made of yellow cloth and sewed onto the left side of their clothes. In Hungary it was introduced by the Sztojay government along with a number of other anti-Jewish decrees on 5th April 1944, two weeks after the German army occupied Hungary.

3 Anti-Jewish laws in Hungary

Following similar legislation in Nazi Germany, Hungary enacted three Jewish laws in 1938, 1939 and 1941. The first law restricted the number of Jews in industrial and commercial enterprises, banks and in certain occupations, such as legal, medical and engineering professions, and journalism to 20% of the total number. This law defined Jews on the basis of their religion, so those who converted before the short-lived Hungarian Soviet Republic in 1919, as well as those who fought in World War I, and their widows and orphans were exempted from the law. The second Jewish law introduced further restrictions, limiting the number of Jews in the above fields to 6%, prohibiting the employment of Jews completely in certain professions such as high school and university teaching, civil and municipal services, etc. It also forbade Jews to buy or sell land and so forth. This law already defined Jews on more racial grounds in that it regarded baptized children that had at least one non-converted Jewish parent as Jewish. The third Jewish law prohibited intermarriage between Jews and non-Jews, and defined anyone who had at least one Jewish grandparent as Jewish.

4 Yellow star houses

The system of exclusively Jewish houses, which acted as a form of hostage taking, was introduced by Hungarian authorities in Budapest in June 1944. The authorities believed that if they concentrated all the Jews of Budapest in the ghetto, the Allies would not attack it, but if they placed such houses all over Budapest, especially near important public buildings it was a kind of guarantee. Jews were only allowed to leave such houses for two hours a day to buy supplies and such.

5 MADISZ [Hungarian Democratic Youth Alliance]

Mass organization assembling young people between the ages of 15 and 24 who were not members of the Communist Party. It was set up in 1944, on the initiative of the Hungarian Communist Party and it was under direct communist control from 1945. It merged with the SZIT, the Trade Union Movement of Young Workers and Apprentices in 1948.

6 Resettlement in Hungary

After 1945, based on a decision by the Great Powers, some 200,000 Hungarians of German ethnicity were resettled outside the borders of Hungary and likewise, about 70,000 Hungarians from the Slovak part of Czechoslovakia were expulsed from their home country and resettled in Hungary. After the communist takeover in 1948, the Hungarian Ministry of Internal Affairs ordered the resettlement from Budapest of what they called ‘former exploiters’ to the countryside. This decree was applied to all people that the communist power regarded as its enemy: to the officials of the prewar state apparatus, soldiers, policemen, kulaks, members of the aristocracy, etc. At least 12,000 people were forced to leave their domicile and were taken to small, god-forsaken villages under very hard living conditions. Resettlement was stopped in 1953.

7 Rakosi regime

Matyas Rakosi was a Stalinist Hungarian leader between 1948-1956. He introduced an absolute communist terror, established a Stalinist type cult for himself and was responsible for the show trials of the early 1950s. After the Revolution of 1956, he went to the Soviet Union and died there.

8 Revolution of 1956

Starting on 23rd October 1956, this uprising was against Soviet rule and the communists in Hungary. It was started by student and worker demonstrations in Budapest during 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 stationed 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.

9 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.

Leonid Averbuch

Leonid Averbuch
Odessa
Ukraine
Interviewer: Nicole Tolkachova
Date of interview: July 2003

Leonid Averbuch’s apartment is located in the historical city center of Odessa, in a house built in the 1950s. The apartment is large enough and modestly furnished. In the sitting-room stands a big book-case. There are a lot of books, photos of Leonid from the different periods of his life, card indexes of famous Odessa citizens and chanukkiyah. In the corner near the window is a big writing-desk with a computer on top of it. Leonid is a man of average height, has a bronze sun-tan and a beard that makes him look like a sailor. Despite of his age he is full of energy and strength. Due to his public and literary activities Leonid Averbuch is well-known, not only in the medical circles of Odessa but also in the Jewish community.

Family background

One of my maternal ancestors Itzhak Zaltzberg was born into the family of Aaron Zaltzberg, a salt miner, who came from the city of Salzburg in Austria to Odessa in 1806. My grandmother Betia Zaltzberg had a copy of the entry in the birth register about Itzhak’s birth, certified by the rabbi of Odessa in 1915. This entry disappeared during the Great Patriotic War 1 when our family evacuated.
Itzhak was my mother’s great-grandfather. His wife Shendel Zaltzberg-Shapiro was born in the town of Akkerman [since 1944 Belgorod-Dnestrovskiy] in 1810. They had eleven children. Two of their sons, Samuel and Wolf, were my great-grandfathers since my maternal grandmother and grandfather were cousins.

My grandfather Gedali Zaltzberg was born in Odessa in 1865. In winter 1872 his 28-year-old father Samuel Zaltzberg was hit by a horse-drawn sledge. He fell ill, developed galloping consumption and died in the same year. His wife Ita Zaltzberg, the daughter of a wine maker from Odessa called Gluzbar, died half a year after, so deeply struck she was by her young husband’s death. Seven-year-old Gedali became an orphan and his uncle Israel Zaltzberg, who owned a leather raw material supply business in partnership with his brother Wolf, adopted him. Gedali didn’t go to cheder. At the age of ten he went to grammar school. When he was 14 his uncle Israel died of pneumonia. After Israel’s death Gedali went to live with the family of Uncle Wolf, who was a very religious man and wasn’t quite so fond of commerce. Gedali was a business-oriented man. He knew German and French and became the representative of the company. Gradually Uncle Wolf transferred all responsibilities to him. Wolf’s wife Braina even addressed Gedali requesting monthly housekeeping allowances from him. Wolf and Braina had six children; two of them died in infancy. After they died Betia, born in 1875, became the oldest child in the family. Then there were three sons: Israel, Avrum and Moisey. Gedali liked his cousin Betia very much. He prepared her for the Jewish elementary school run by the Reivich sisters that she finished successfully.

In 1888, when Gedali turned 23 and Betia 17, they got married with Wolf and Braina’s consent. They rented apartments in Odessa before the [Russian] Revolution of 1917 2. They lived in the center of town like many families of intellectuals. My grandparents spoke Yiddish, but they also spoke Russian fluently. My grandmother also spoke Ukrainian and my grandfather knew German, French and Polish. Grandfather Gedali didn’t wear payes or a beard. He had a mustache. He liked fancy clothes. My grandfather didn’t wear a kippah at home, but he always wore a hat to go out. He went to the synagogue on holidays. Before the Revolution he often traveled abroad on business.

Before they had children Gedali and Betia visited Palestine. They visited the island Khios, Smirna and Haifa. Grandmother Betia told me a lot about this tour. I even remember the song with which Arabic kids teased travelers from Russia in Haifa, but my grandmother didn’t know the meaning of it. At the end they said ‘Maskok hamzir’ – Russian pig. One of the boys hit my grandmother on her eye with a pickle. My grandmother said they visited a kibbutz and mentioned the name of Belkind. He was probably an activist in the Zionist movement. [Israel Belkind (1861–1929): one of the founders of the pro-Palestinian organization Bilu in Russia, moved to Israel in 1882; got involved in educational activities and founded the first Hebrew school in Yaffa].

My grandmother told me that she was sympathetic with the revolutionary movement and gave shelter to revolutionaries in her apartment in Odessa. The October Revolution didn’t have a major impact on my grandfather’s family since they weren’t rich. After the Revolution my grandfather worked in a supply company, but then he fell ill and remained ill for a long time. My grandfather died of bladder cancer in Odessa in 1933.

After he died Grandmother Betia lived with her sons Wolf and Samuel on the first floor on 19, Kuznechnaya Street in the center of town. They had a well-known neighbor: Maliarov, the former owner and director of the private grammar school that my uncles finished. Every Sunday I went to visit Grandmother Betia. I played in their big yard and the adults could watch me from the window. They had running water and electricity and stove heating. There were five cozy rooms with expensive furniture. I remember a big cupboard with a marble board. There were crystal decanters for strong drinks, cups and wine glasses.

My grandmother was a wonderful housewife. Sometimes they hired housemaids who were usually young girls coming from villages to town to look for a job. My grandmother made delicious Jewish food on holidays – gefilte fish, fluden and strudels with jam, nuts and apples, but they didn’t follow the kashrut. They ate pork. On Sabbath the family had a festive dinner. I remember that there was matzah at Pesach. Grandmother Betia’s birthday was on the day of the first seder [according to the Jewish calendar] and she used to say, ‘My birthday is on the first seder’. There was nothing specifically Jewish in the house; there were no mezuzot on the doors. Grandmother Betia dressed in the fashion of the time. She didn’t wear a kerchief. She spoke Yiddish at home occasionally, but she preferred to read books in Russian. She was well educated and had a thorough knowledge of opera music. They liked music in the family.

My grandmother’s maternal cousin Sophia Wainshtein finished the private music school of Vasilenko in Odessa where she studied playing the piano. She was married to Alexandr Levinson who studied singing in this same school. Sophia accompanied him. Alexandr took on the pseudonym of Davydov. He became a soloist at Mariinskiy Emperor Theater in St. Petersburg. Sophia followed him to St. Petersburg. They had two daughters: Tamara and Tatiana, born before the Revolution. In the middle of the 1920s Davydov moved to Paris where in 1934 he worked with Fyodor Shaliapin [well-known Russian singer (1873-1938)]. In 1936 Davydov returned to the USSR and taught singing in the school of Mariinskiy Theater.

The Davydovs were evacuated to Novosibirsk during the Great Patriotic War. In 1944, when they returned, the family parted: Alexandr Davydov moved to Moscow to the actors-pensioners house and the wife with the daughters went to Leningrad. He hoped to have better conditions in this house. He died there in 1944. His family continued to live in Leningrad. Sophia and her daughters often came to Odessa in summer. My mother and uncle Samuel visited them in Leningrad. Sophia died in the 1950s. I never saw Davydov, but I knew his family very well. His daughter Tamara and I were friends. Tamara died in 1998. She was a master of performing and was awarded the title of ‘People’s Actress’.

During the Great Patriotic War my grandmother was evacuated to Tashkent [3,200 km from Odessa in present-day Uzbekistan] with her son Samuel’s family. When my grandmother was dying in Odessa in 1946 Uncle Samuel, who was an atheist, asked her, ‘Would you like to have somebody recite a prayer at your funeral?’ She replied, ‘No, I don’t want any bought prayers’. Grandmother Betia and Gedali had four children. They were all born in Odessa.

My mother’s older brother Wolf was born in 1894. He finished the private grammar school of Maliarov in Odessa and studied at the Medical Faculty of Novorossiysk University [since 1919 Odessa University]. When World War I began he went to the front. He was shell-shocked and got in captivity. He returned home in 1918. Sometime afterwards he became epileptic. This was a consequence of the shell shock. Uncle Wolf was a doctor. He was single, although he was handsome and a big success with women. He believed he didn’t have the right to marriage due to his illness. Wolf died in evacuation in Tashkent in 1942.

My mother’s other brother Samuel was born in 1897. He also finished the grammar school of Maliarov. Samuel entered the Faculty of Natural Sciences of Novorossiysk University in 1915 and then continued his studies at Kiev Polytechnic College. Once, during the Civil War 3, when he was traveling home from Kiev by train, the train was attacked by Petliura 4 troops. They were looking for Jews, but he managed to hide.

In 1929 the Soviet government sent Samuel to advanced training at Hettingen University and Hanover Polytechnic College in Germany. Samuel was a construction engineer. Before the Great Patriotic War he taught the subject of ‘resistance of material’ at Odessa Industrial College. He married Mina Vysokaya in 1938. She was a lecturer at the Odessa Conservatory. They didn’t have children. During the Great Patriotic War uncle Samuel lectured at Tashkent University, Tashkent Textile College and the Academy of Armored Troops of the Soviet Army. During the war he joined the Communist Party. He knew the theory of Marxism-Leninism well.

In 1949, when he was a lecturer at Odessa Polytechnic College, Uncle Samuel was accused of cosmopolitism [see campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’] 5. I was waiting for him in the hallway of the conference-room where a meeting took place. The subject of the meeting was my uncle’s ‘case’. His friends and students spoke at the meeting criticizing my uncle. Later they apologized and confessed to him that they had been acting against their will. It was true because if they had refused to speak against him they would have had to share his fate. After the meeting I accompanied my uncle to his home. He didn’t speak on the way, but when we arrived at his place he said, ‘Well, I should expect an arrest now, I suppose’. He was so shocked that he went to bed in his clothes and shoes. He slept 48 hours. Later he went to the Central Committee of the CPSU in Moscow. He managed to resume his membership in the Party, but not his job. He moved to Penza, where he worked at Penza Industrial College, and then to Kishinev, where he was also a lecturer. He returned to Odessa in the 1960s after he retired. My uncle was a communist, but these events left a deep imprint on his heart. Samuel’s wife Mina died in 1977. Uncle Samuel lived the rest of his life with me. He died in
1986. We buried him in the Tair cemetery [the town cemetery] in Odessa.

My mother’s younger sister Ida Zaltzberg was born in 1901. She studied at Odessa Conservatory with Oistrach and Dankevich. [Editor’s note: David Oistrach (1908–1974): Soviet violinist, pedagogue, one of the greatest musicians of the 20th century; Konstantin Dankevich (1905–1984): popular Soviet composer, pianist and pedagogue. He taught in Odessa and Kiev Conservatories. In 1984 Odessa Music School was named after him.] Then she worked in the music school at the House of Scientists in Odessa. I remember my parents took me to her classes. In my memory Aunt Ida is a beautiful, well-dressed and bright woman. I associate her with the first symphonic concert in the Odessa Philharmonic that I went to. Her former fellow student Konstantin Dankevich was a conductor. After the concert he came to see us. He threw me in the air. He was a very tall man. I was about four years old then. Ida’s husband Moisey Barero, a Jewish man, had a daughter from his first marriage. Ida didn’t have children of her own. In 1941 Ida, her husband and her stepdaughter were killed in the ghetto in Odessa. She was 40 years old.

My mother Malka Zaltzberg was born in 1899. She studied at the Liberson private grammar school. The director of this school was a relative of ours. Later she studied at the grammar school of Shyleiko and Richter. My mother didn’t get any Jewish education at home. She was the peacemaker in the family – she always smoothed conflicts between family members. In 1919 my mother finished a six-month course of medical nurses and entered the Medical Faculty of Novorossiysk University. She graduated in 1922. She became a doctor at the central tuberculosis outpatient clinic called White Flower. Later this clinic joined the Odessa Scientific Research Institute of Tuberculosis.

My paternal great-grandfather Mordko Goldshtein came from Bogopol’. [Editor’s note: Bogopol’ was a Jewish town in Baltskiy district in Podolsk province. At the end of the 19th century 5,909 of 7,226 inhabitants of Bogopol’ were Jews.] He had five children: two sons, Abram and Haskel, and three daughters. There were different stories told in our family about the life of his older daughter Rachel, born in 1855. She was married to a big businessman in Kiev called David Benderski. I remember one of those stories. David had a lover who was a seamstress. He bought her an apartment. It happened so that he died when he visited her. This seamstress called my aunt to inform her on what had happened. My aunt went to the house of her husband’s lover with two broad-shouldered clerks of her husband. Those clerks carried her husband out of the house pretending that he was dead drunk. In the same way they took him into his bedroom. Rachel managed to prevent a public scandal by this smart conduct and plotting. There were two other daughters besides Rachel: Lisa, born in 1856, her name in marriage was Sher, and my grandmother Esther, born in Bogopol’ in 1854. My grandmother got married in 1885.

My paternal grandfather Leib Averbuch was born in Kishinev in 1865. My grandfather studied in cheder. After they got married my grandparents settled down in Bogopol’. Grandfather Leib was a senior man at the synagogue. He didn’t have any other job. My grandmother was the breadwinner in the family; she lent money to Christians. They were very religious and spoke Yiddish at home. Grandfather Leib wore a beard and mustache. He didn’t have payes, but he had whiskers. He wore a hood and a yarmulka in the synagogue. That’s what my father told me; I didn’t know my grandfather personally. He died in 1905 in a fire accident at the age of 40. He was asleep when his house caught fire. He must have suffocated in the smoke. I don’t know where the other members of the family were at that moment.

After this accident, the family moved to Odessa. I don’t know what made them move. I know that my grandmother and her children lived on Avcinnikovski Lane in the center of town. My grandmother’s brothers supported her. Before the Revolution they leased fields and were better off than my grandmother. Uncle Abram, born in 1952, had fancy clothes and looked like an aristocrat. He was very tidy and staunch. My parents believed that after the Revolution Uncle Abram lived on the money that he managed to hide from the expropriation by the Soviet authorities. Uncle Abram was married. He died in his late 60s, before the Great Patriotic War. Uncle Haskel made the impression of a sloppy and quarrelsome man. He had two daughters who lived in Leningrad. He became a widower before the war. He perished in Odessa ghetto in 1941.

My grandmother had two sons and two daughters. My father’s younger brother Haskel Averbuch was born in 1890. He finished a private drama school in Odessa. He was fond of acting. During World War I Haskel was recruited to the army at the age of 24. He was awarded two St. George Crosses 6 of the 3rd and 4th grades and a St. George medal. After the February Revolution Haskel took part in a congress of veterans of the war. He met A. F. Kerensky 7 at this congress. When Kerensky came on a visit to Odessa in May 1917 Uncle Haskel served as a mission officer for him. Kerensky solicited for his promotion to an officer’s rank and he became an ensign. After the October Revolution Haskel joined the Bolsheviks and was chief of militia in Odessa. When Denikin 8 troops entered Odessa he was arrested and sentenced to death for cooperation with the Soviet power. He was executed on 28th September 1919. My grandmother Esther kept some insignia of his officer’s valor: his dagger, orders and a medal, but she destroyed them in 1937 [during the Great Terror] 9.

My father’s younger sister Rosa, born in 1892, was raised in the family of her mother’s childless sister, Rachel Benderskaya, in Kiev. Rosa would have become the heir of a significant fortune of the Benderskiy family, if it hadn’t been for the October Revolution. The family’s property was expropriated by the Soviet authorities. Rosa finished the Medical Faculty of Novorossiysk University and married Konstantin Chertkov who came from a well-known Russian family of merchants in Odessa. Aunt Rosa and her husband left for Moscow in the 1930s. Her husband worked as an advisor at the Ministry of River Transport of the USSR, Aunt Rosa was a doctor, a throat specialist. They didn’t have children. Rosa’s husband died in the late 1960s. Aunt Rosa died at the age of 92 in 1984.

My father’s second sister Tsylia was born in 1896. She was a pharmacist. She lived in Odessa, was single and had no children. During the Great Patriotic War she was in evacuation in Tashkent with us. At the end of her life Aunt Tsylia moved to her older sister Rosa in Moscow. She died in 1956.

My father Grigori, his Jewish name was Gershon, was born in Bogopol in 1888. Like all other Jewish boys he studied in cheder. When his family moved to Odessa he became an apprentice to a pharmacist. It was a popular profession among Jews since it gave them the right to live beyond the [Jewish] Pale of Settlement 10. He finished the extramural Faculty of Chemistry and Pharmacy and was the director of a pharmacy at the same time. In 1927 my father received an apartment on Preobrazhenskaya Street in the center of town. It was a communal apartment 11. There was another Jewish family that lived in this apartment: the family of doctor Moisey Finegold. My father lived in this apartment with Grandmother Esther and his sister Tsylia.

My parents were introduced to one another by their relatives. My father was eleven years older than my mother. My mother was 27 at the time. They went to the theater together. My mother worked and didn’t allow my father to pay for her tickets. My parents got married in Odessa in 1927. They had a civil wedding. There was no chuppah. Theirs was a pre-arranged marriage that grew into a solid reliable relationship. After they got married the newly-weds settled down in my father’s apartment on Preobrazhenskaya Street. The house where they lived belonged to an insurance company called Russia before the October Revolution.

We had four rooms in this apartment: my parents’ bedroom, were I slept as well, my grandmother’s room, my aunt Tsylia’s room, and a small room near the kitchen where the housemaid lived. The Russia insurance company provided furniture for our apartment before the Revolution. It was stylish mahogany furniture decorated with bronze. I remember a big mirror with a glass table, a low table and armchairs. My grandmother had an ancient chest of drawers in her room and an oak folding table. There were beautiful chairs with carved chair-backs. There were Moldavian carpets on the floors. After 1939 we got a radio set. There was a bathroom in this apartment, but my family didn’t use the bathtub since it was a communal apartment. I remember when I was small I was washed in a basin and when I grew older my father took me to the sauna. Most of our neighbors were Russian. The relationship between the neighbors was friendly enough and very reserved.

I was born on 31st October 1930. I remember well my nanny Olesia, a nice and caring old Ukrainian woman. I use to put my head in her warm jacket feeling very comfortable. She left when I turned three years old and our housemaid Irina Bessarab looked after me. I associate Irina with the famine of 1933 12. In 1933 Irina came from a village. She was thin and had her hair shaved since she had typhoid. She was taken to the kitchen. All she could say was, ‘Madam, may I have something to eat?’ Only after she had had some food, she could speak properly. She became a beautiful full-bodied woman. When she got married she lived in our apartment with her husband for some time.

I didn’t go to kindergarten. I studied with a teacher who had a Froebel 13 diploma; there were graduates of this institute in Odessa. Many of them knew foreign languages and taught children to speak a foreign language. My teacher Polina Ianovna Galka didn’t know any foreign languages, but when she fell ill or went on vacation we had a replacement, Victoria Georgiivna Moskalyova, who taught me French. There were seven other children in my group. This group gathered at the teacher’s home. We, children, brought our breakfast with us. We went for a walk on Primorski Boulevard or to Teatralnaya Square, or the Palais Royal [this is how Odessites call the garden near the Odessa Opera House], or Gorodskoy garden. Then we went to her house, where we had our breakfast, played games and learned to read.

I went to Novy Market with Grandmother Esther who bought kosher food products for herself. I remember my grandmother Esther well. She dressed like all other women in town. She wore long dark skirts and dark shirts. In winter she wore woolen clothes and in summer a fustian. She never wore light colors and even at home she wore a kerchief. Grandmother Esther didn’t quite have political preferences, but since her favorite younger son was shot by Denikin troops she hated all Whites 14; however, this doesn’t mean that she favored the Reds 15.

Grandmother Esther observed the kashrut. She didn’t trust my mother or the housemaid to prepare food for her. She bought her quarter of a chicken from one and the same seller, I think. Frau Frieda, a German milkmaid, delivered dairy products to our house. She came from Grossliebental, a German colony 16 near Odessa. Early in the morning, at 7am, she already knocked on the backdoor. When asked, ‘Who’s there?’ she replied, ‘Frau Frieda, I’ve got milk for you’. She wore a checkered kerchief. She had a big milk can from where she poured milk with a big mug that had a long handle. At times poultry tradesmen came to the yard shouting, ‘Want a chicken? Quarter chicken or chicken legs?’ There was a period before the war when there weren’t enough food products and bread was sold in limited quantities. Each family left a linen bag with a name at a store and then these bags were delivered on carts to the houses. The tenants came outside to pick up their bags. There was a bread rate per person. It wasn’t a famine because there was enough bread being delivered. There was a period when there was no sugar in stores and people bought caramel candy instead.

My parents treated each other with love and respect. After my father finished the Chemistry Engineering Faculty of the Industrial College in 1936 he worked as a chemical engineer at food enterprises in Odessa. I don’t remember the specific companies he worked for. My mother worked as a doctor at Odessa Scientific Research Institute of Tuberculosis. My parents worked a lot. They liked to spend their evenings with the family. We were doing all right, though we couldn’t afford any luxuries. My parents went to the theater and visited friends. Most of their friends were Jewish, but my mother also had non-Jewish friends. At home my parents spoke Russian and only switched to Yiddish when they didn’t want me to understand the subject of their discussion. My father spoke fluent Yiddish, but my mother didn’t know it quite so well. So when they switched to Yiddish my father teased her a little about the mistakes she made.

Both my grandmothers told me something about Jewish traditions, but I took it as a vestige of the past. I didn’t make this particular point to them, but I thought it was something that had nothing to do with me. Every Friday evening Grandmother Esther covered the table in her room with a yellow tablecloth and invited us to dinner. Her brother Abram and Haskel visited my grandmother on this day. They were almost the same age and often quarreled and Grandmother Esther had to help them to make it up. By next Saturday they were arguing again. My grandmother observed Sabbath. She didn’t go to the synagogue when I remember her, because she was very old.

My grandmother had religious books. She prayed from the siddur, read the Torah in Hebrew regularly and knew the weekly sections by heart. [Editor’s note: The Torah is divided into 54 parts; one is to be read each Sabbath. Two such parts are sometimes read on a single Sabbath; otherwise the cycle could not be completed in one year.] My father was an atheist, but I remember clearly that on one of the Jewish holidays – it may have been Yom Kippur – he put on his fancy suit and a dark hat and went to the synagogue. I don’t know what synagogue my father attended, but I think there was only one synagogue in Odessa at the time.

We didn’t have a big collection of books at home, but in our family we read a lot. There were subscription editions before the war and we had books by Balzac, Maupassant, Pushkin 17 and Lermontov 18. My father was very fond of Lermontov and often sang ballads using his lyrics. I was also good at literature for a boy of ten. My parents took care of what I read. They brought me books to read. I read books by Soviet children’s authors: Chukovskiy, Marshak 19 and Mikhalkov. Later I got the History of Animal World by Brehm. I took to liking adventure stories. Later my parents enrolled me on the list of readers in the library of the House of Scientists. My parents also went to the town library: my mother went there to prepare her dissertation and my father went there every now and then. My mother knew three foreign languages and my father knew two. My parents subscribed to the Bolshevik’s Banner communist newspaper.

Every summer our family rented a dacha [cottage] at the seashore. In 1938 Uncle Samuel built a dacha and we stayed there all together. When I was small we traveled to the dacha on a horse-drawn cart. I sat beside the balagula [coachman] on his seat and several times I even used the whip on the horse. Later we had our luggage transported on a truck and I used to sit in the cabin. I also remember how the husband of my mother’s friend Bella Goldman Rovinski, a Jew, deputy chief of the regional military hospital, gave us a lift in his cabriolet with a convertible tarpaulin top on their twin daughters Lilia and Maya’s birthday.

I remember people speaking in a whisper about the arrests in 1937. One of my parents’ closest friends, doctor Yakov Kaminski, was arrested in 1937. His wife Vera knocked on our door at 7 o’clock in the morning and asked us if she could stay with us for a while since her husband Yakov had been arrested. She had made the rounds of several of their acquaintances, but they didn’t even open their doors to her. My parents let her in, gave her a cup of tea and tried to console her. In the evening my father took her to her home. They supported her throughout Yakov’s time in exile, which lasted 20 years, and when he returned they remained friends. In 1938 my grandmother Betia’s brother Avrum Zaltzberg was arrested and executed without even a trial or investigation. In the same year my grandmother Esther died and was buried in the 3rd Jewish cemetery. We didn’t find her grave after the war. I guess it had been destroyed.

I turned eight in 1938 and my father took me to submit my documents to school in August. The director of the school, Riabukha, tested every child. Since I could already read and write and knew poems by heart he enrolled me in the 2nd grade. In January 1939 Riabukha was shot for deviations from the Party policy in the field of education. I liked to study. In the 3rd grade I was even awarded a diploma for my school successes. My first teacher was Maria Dmitrievna Dorokholskaya. We all liked her a lot. We also liked Valentin Alexandrovich Zhukov, our teacher of physics. He took part in the Spanish Civil War 20. He wore a Navy jacket and had an Order of Honor. Olga Moiseyevna Erlich was our teacher of rhythmic and singing. We sang in a choir and played in a so-called noise orchestra: we played castanets, triangles, etc. We often had morning concerts at school where we sang, recited poems and gave amateur performances. My father took me to the navy club in the Town House of Pioneers.

There were many Jewish children at school. I remember Bernard Shchurovetski. He was one year my senior. I remember him running ahead of a group of boys waving his hand as if he was holding a sable shouting, ‘Follow me, Jewish battalion!’ In 1948 he was arrested for Zionism when he was a student of Odessa University. He was sentenced to ten years in prison. As for the prewar period I want to say that the notion of the Soviet people wasn’t something abstract. It had its grounds. I never faced any anti-Semitism before the war, although we made quite clear the nationality we belonged to.

I met my schoolmates after school. We played the ‘cossacks and bandits’ game [an equivalent of ‘Cowboys and Indians’] and football, mostly with balls made out of cloth. We also played ‘mayalka’ tossing up a bag filled with millet or sand. The one that tossed it up for the longest time won. I also had friends in the yard. We played a stick game. There was a wooden stick and a board – a bat. We drew a circle and put the stick in the middle. Then we hit on its edge with a bat and when it popped up we had to throw it with the bat as far as possible.

I had a friend whose name was Ivetta. She was the daughter of our co-tenants, the Finegolds. She was three years older than I and had a big influence on me. Ivetta played the piano and I danced to this music with her friends or we danced to the radio. I fell in love with all her friends in a row. We played this bottle game: We stood in a circle and twirled a bottle in the middle. Then the two that the neck and bottom of the bottle pointed at kissed.

On weekends my parents and I went for a walk and to the theater. They took me to children’s performances at the Tyuz theater [theater for young audiences in the USSR], the Opera, the Philharmonic, and to symphonic orchestras. We often went to the cinema where we watched Soviet films. My father spent more time with me than my mother did. My favorite holidays were 1st May and October Revolution Day 21.
My father and I went to parades, bought flags and balloons. In the middle of the 1930s people began to celebrate New Year and decorate trees. At first Soviet authorities forbade Christmas trees since it was considered to be a religious Christian tradition. There were also so-called ‘fore post clubs’ when children got together in a room or hall in the district where they lived. We had concerts and other events there and played games.

My mother had a few relatives in America. One of them was my grandmother Betia’s brother Israel Zaltzberg. Uncle Israel was a communist in America, but he owned a factory. He visited Odessa in 1935. He visited my grandmother in her apartment in Kuznechnaya Street. There was a reception and there were photographs taken. He brought me some gifts. Our relatives corresponded with him before his arrival, but after he left all such contacts were kept secret since it became dangerous to disclose them [it was dangerous to keep in touch with relatives abroad] 22.

In 1939 Soviet troops came to Western Ukraine and Western Belarus. My father was recruited to the army and took part in those campaigns. The beginning of the war in 1939 was practically not discussed by the mass media. Sometime before it, the USSR entered into the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact 23 with Germany. I remember the German Consulate in Odessa on the corner of Petra Velikogo and Sadovaya Street and two big red banners with white circles and black swastikas on them.

I was ten when the Great Patriotic War began on 22nd June 1941. My father was assigned to a military unit and although he had had myocarditis some time before and was 53 years old he joined this unit. When my mother mentioned that he could probably do something to avoid going to the front he replied that when fascists attacked the country a Jewish man had to be in the armed forces. He left that same day and never returned. This was at least the fourth war in his life. He went to the front-line forces in Bessarabia 24.
He served in a medical unit of Primorskaya army and was responsible for logistics supplies to medical institutions and subdivisions of Primorskaya army in Sevastopol. He perished there during the defense of Sevastopol in July 1942. I still have 16 letters that he wrote from the front.

In July 1941 my mother, Aunt Tsylia and I evacuated from Odessa. We went to Novorossiysk [700 km to Odessa by sea] by the military boat Dnepr. From there we took a train to Krasnodar – this was my first train trip. We got off at Zatoka station in Stanitsa Slavyanskaya on the way to Krasnodar. We got accommodation with a Kazak family, the Kulikovs. They didn’t care what nationality we belonged to. They treated us as if we were their family. They shared their food with us. Then we went to Rostov where we reunited with Uncle Samuel, his wife, grandmother Betia and Uncle Wolf. We went to Kalach by boat along the Don River, from there we took a train to Stalingrad, then we went to Kuibyshev down the Volga and from there we took a train to Tashkent.

In evacuation my mother was the manager of the X-Ray department at the Institute of Tuberculosis in Tashkent. In 1943 she defended her dissertation for the title of candidate of medical services and in 1947 she was awarded the title of senior scientific employee. I went to the 5th grade at school in Tashkent. In a year we moved to another district and I finished my 6th and 7th grades in another school. My classmate Lyonia Yusupov – his mother was Russian and his father was Uzbek and was the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist party of Uzbekistan – helped me to get a recommendation from his father to join the Komsomol 25. I became a Komsosol member in 1944 before I turned 14. In August 1944 during my vacations I began to work as a medical statistics specialist in the institute where my mother worked.

Before the war I didn’t face anti-Semitism except for the word ‘zhyd’ [kike] that I heard several times, but during the war there was open anti-Semitism. It was intertwined with the hatred to people in evacuation. The local Russian population, Russian people who were in evacuation in Tashkent and Uzbeks demonstrated it. Uzbeks knew the word ‘yakhuda’ [Jew in Arabic] and even at the market when a Jewish customer tried to bargain with them they said ‘Jebrei’ [mispronunciation of Jew], go away and come back tomorrow’. Once a group of local boys brutally beat me up, kicking me with their feet on my face and calling me ‘zhydowskaya morda’ [a Jewish mug].

I went to the synagogue for the first time in Tashkent in 1944. There was a meeting with a former inmate of the Warsaw ghetto who had managed to escape. My uncle Samuel took me there. On our way to the synagogue he told me a little about Jewish traditions. I cannot remember the details of what this man told the audience. He spoke German and there was an interpreter. [Editor’s note: this man most likely spoke Yiddish and not German.] My uncle Wolf died of a brain tumor in Tashkent. I heard the mourning prayer recited by a man from the synagogue for the first time in my life at his funeral.

Post-war

We returned to Odessa in October 1944 with the Odessa flour grinding factory. We arrived at Odessa-Malay station and from there we were taken to the hostel of the flour-grinding factory by truck. During the war Dumitrasku, the editor of the Russian weekly newspaper Molva, lived in our apartment on Preobrazhenskaya Street. When we returned it was inhabited by comrade Melnichenko, the chairman of the water transport district council. He occupied all six rooms of our apartment, although two families had lived in the apartment before the war. When the Finegold family – our co-tenants – arrived, Melnichenko did us a big favor: he vacated two rooms for their family and two rooms for us. He stayed in our apartment for quite a while. Actually all our belongings were gone. After returning to Odessa Grandmother Betia lived with us. She died in 1946. She was buried in the Jewish section of the second international cemetery. No Jewish rituals were followed.

I went to the 8th grade when we returned to Odessa. It was a different Odessa and so was I. I had new friends at school. I had many Jewish classmates. The director of the school Osip Semyonovich Stoliarski was a Jew. There were many Jewish teachers. There was anti-Semitism in postwar Odessa. Probably people contracted it from the fascists during the occupation. I often heard people say, ‘The Jews are back telling us what to do’.

In 1946 I entered Odessa Medical College. Since I was under 16 and didn’t have a passport I was admitted as a candidate student and was enrolled only after I obtained my passport. There was no anti-Semitism in college. There were many Jews in college: veterans of the war, mature people. I was an active Komsomol member and a member of the Komsomol committee of the college. In 1949, when I was a 4th-year student I married my co-student Sophia Rudman. She was a very interesting person. She was very musical, had the best marks in gymnastics and was a great success with young men.

Sophia was born in Odessa in 1928. During the war she was in evacuation in Tokmak, Kyrgyzstan, with her mother. Sophia is a Jew. Her grandfather lived in Moldavanka 26 where Jews lived in their own neighborhood and observed Jewish traditions. Sophia’s mother knew a little Yiddish and was a very sociable woman. She kept in touch with her Jewish surrounding. We didn’t observe the Jewish holidays in our family, but we bought matzah at Pesach. My wife’s mother could even make it. Basically, we didn’t observe any Jewish traditions or the kashrut.

In my 6th year of studies I began to specialize in lung diseases. After finishing college in 1952 my wife and I got a [mandatory] job assignment 27 to the village of Malorita in Brest region, Belarus, where we worked as phthisitricians. In 1952 during the time of the Doctors’ Plot 28 I got into trouble. Phthisitricians use to get into this trap. I treated my patients with pneumothorax. During this procedure an air bubble may get into a vein. If it gets into a venous vessel it may cause embolism. One of my patients – the agronomist Nikolay Misyuk had brain embolism once. I remember that in his case I had to fix his head in the lowest position with his feet up to force this air bubble out. I did this and he recovered, but he had hemorrhage in his retina. Nikolay appreciated what I did for him, but his wife wrote a letter to the prosecutor’s office complaining that Jewish doctor Averbuch wanted to kill her husband, an agronomist, to cause damage to the socialist agriculture. I was called to the prosecutor’s office where they had a talk with me, but at some point of time it all ended. When we were leaving Malorita we already knew that this Doctors’ Plot was just that. Stalin had died by then. His death was a hard blow. Besides, we were afraid that the new leadership of the country would strengthen its dictatorship. I dedicated one of my poems to Stalin’s death.

In 1953 I entered the clinical residency at the Institute of Advanced Training of Doctors in Minsk. My tutor was Professor Agranovich. Simultaneously I studied at the extramural postgraduate school in Moscow where my tutor was Alexandr Rabukhin, one of the biggest phthisitrician in Kiev. He was also a Jew. There were many Jewish doctors in the USSR while in phthisiology almost all of them were Jews. It was a difficult profession, but Jews wanted to have it.

Our daughter Irina was born in 1953. In 1955 my wife and I returned to Odessa where we rented an apartment, and we often went to see my mother. After my father’s death my mother didn’t marry again. She went on to work as a phthisitrician. She died in 1989 at the age of 90 and was buried in the international cemetery of Odessa.

After returning to Odessa I began to write my dissertation. Simultaneously I lectured at Odessa Medical College. My tutor made it clear to me that I didn’t have a chance to keep a job at the college because of my Jewish nationality. In January 1959 I began to work as a registrar at the regional tuberculosis outpatient clinic. I was appointed its manager in July of the same year. I often traveled on business to Ukrainian towns, Moscow and Leningrad.

I began to travel abroad in 1960. Those were countries of democracy: Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria. When I visited Hungary in the 1960s I understood how serious events were during the Revolution of 1956 29, what tragedy it had been for the people of Hungary and what the real role of the USSR had been. About the events in Czechoslovakia in 1968 [Prague Spring] 30 I remember that we listened to foreign radio stations. We understood that it was a blood-shedding suppression of the people’s movement. My friends and I had a negative attitude towards this.

We lived a stable and wealthy life. We communicated with Uncle Samuel and Aunt Rosa who lived in Moscow, and Lida, the daughter of Avrum Zaltzberg. We got together on birthdays or Jewish holidays. In summer we stayed at the dacha. Our son Grigori was born in 1965. My children always knew that they were Jews and identified themselves as Jews. However, they didn’t get any Jewish education. My children knew about the Holocaust and about members of our family who had perished in the ghetto and about their grandfather who had perished at the front.

Our daughter Irina studied in a secondary and a music school. She was a concertmaster and took part in concerts with children’s groups. After finishing school she finished the Music College in Vitebsk since it was difficult for a Jewish girl to enter the Music College in Odessa. After finishing this College Irina was the manager of a band that worked on a cruiser. She was also a soloist and played keyboard. Irina married a Russian man, Alexandr Rakov, a musician. In 1978 they moved to Australia. I cannot say that I was happy when my daughter left. I wasn’t sure whether it was the right decision, but it turned out it was. They live in Sidney where they opened a computer design company. Irina is a musician there. Their daughter Caroline was born in 1979. She finished a technical college in Sidney. Her specialty is computer graphics. I visited them in 1991. It was a wonderful trip and a happy meeting with my darling daughter and granddaughter Caroline.

Sophia and I divorced in 1968. Two years later Sophia married a Russian man. Since her second husband was Christian they celebrated Christian and Jewish holidays. They made Easter bread and painted eggs at Easter. They also observe Jewish holidays, but without strictly following all traditions. My son Grigori lived with his mother. He identifies himself as a Jew, although he is not even circumcised. Grigori finished school in 1972 and then studied at the Faculty of Physical Education of Odessa Pedagogical College. After his 4th year in college he was recruited to the army. He served in anti-missile troops in Zaporozhye. After his army service Grigori worked in a children’s home and then was a teacher of physical education at school. In 1991 he moved to Australia, to his sister Irina. He lives in Sidney and works as an assistant doctor.

I married Irina Chaikovskaya in 1969. Irina is Ukrainian. She was born in Vinnitsa in 1938. During the war she was in evacuation in Tashkent with her mother. My second wife finished the Faculty of Philology of Odessa Pedagogical College and the Faculty of Defectology of Moscow Pedagogical College. She is a speech specialist and an Honored Teacher of Ukraine. [Editor’s note: Honored Teacher of Ukraine is a state award.] We’ve been married for over thirty years now.

The 1970s were stable years in our country: no arrests or suppression. We were wealthy and had many opportunities to spend our spare time as we liked. My wife and I read a lot, went to the theater and symphonic music performances. Famous musicians and the best theater groups of the USSR often came on tour to Odessa. In the 1970s there was more space for criticism of the government. My professional life has always been the focus of my life. I was the manager of the tuberculosis clinic for 44 years. I was also involved in scientific activities. I have over 65 publications and one monograph. In 1994 I was awarded the title of candidate of medical sciences based on my scientific work. I have never been a party member.

In 1967 during the Six-Day-War 31 and in 1973 during another war [the interviewee is referring to the so-called Yom Kippur War] 32 I felt pain in my heart and wished victory for Israelites. I was terribly upset about the termination of diplomatic relationships of the USSR with Israel. I was convinced that it was a mistake of the Soviet government. I felt like protesting against the USSR’s support of the enemies of Israel. I always felt great interest in Israel. I always wanted to visit there and was very happy when I got an opportunity to do so in 1999. I admired the country and felt proud for the people. I sympathized with those that were moving to Israel, but I never considered this option for myself.

When perestroika 33 began in 1986 I had hopes that they would build socialism with a human face. I need to say at this point that I still feel sorry that socialism is a utopia. I’m really sorry that such is reality. This utopia is even more dangerous since it is so attractive.

The Jewish life has revived in Odessa. In 1997 I became a volunteer and member of the Board at the Jewish charity organization Gmilus Hesed. During this period I turned to Judaism to learn more about traditions and the history of the Jewish people. I remain agnostic to a certain extent. I’m not a religious Jew who goes to pray at the synagogue every day. I don’t follow the kashrut either, but I greatly respect the Jewish traditions. I know a lot more about the traditions and history of my people now and this gives me the feeling of solidarity with my people.

I go to the synagogue on high holidays. I take part in charity events. I’m the Deputy Chairman of the Board of Gmilus Hesed. I write in Russian for the Jewish newspapers Or-Sameah and Shomrei-Shabbos and the magazine Migdal Times. I write articles on Jewish subjects as well. I collect and publish materials about famous Odessites. I give lectures about outstanding Jewish Odessites and the history of anti-Semitism at the Open Jewish University at the educational center Moria. I write poems and prose. Some Odessa publishing houses published my volume of poems and a book of memoirs about Odessa and Odessites. Besides, my book about Jews who worked for the Soviet intelligence service has been published in two editions.