Travel

Stefan Minc

Stefan Minc 
Warsaw 
Poland 
Interviewer Marta Cobel-Tokarska 
Date of interview: January-February 2005 

Mr. Stefan Minc is a short, elegant man with a small mustache.

He is always dressed with care – in a suit and a hat. He is invariably quick and energetic, despite his advanced age.

I met with him several times in the offices of Warsaw’s Jewish organizations on Twarda Street.

After each of our meetings Mr. Minc would run on to take care of some urgent business, and  never seemed to be tired.

Due to his excellent memory, the narrative is filled with detailed information, dates and names.

At times it reminds one of a detailed life report.

  • My Family Background

I will first tell you about the family of my father – Izydor Jozef Minc. My father’s family comes from Warsaw. My grandfather was Adolf Mintz, spelled with a ‘tz.’ We spelled our name the same way, with a ‘tz,’ until the 1930s.  [The original German spelling of the family name was Polonized in the interwar period, after Poland regained independence.] Grandfather Adolf came from Lomza. He died in 1925.

My grandmother and his wife, Roza – her maiden name was Imergluck – came from Cracow. In Cracow there was an entire huge clan of Imerglucks. The sister of grandma Roza, whose married name was Haber, lived in Cracow at 10 Grodzka Street, and was a well known doctor.

They owned their house there. Her husband was a dentist. Grandma Roza’s brother was named Wilhelm Imergluck and was a representative of Lloyd, an English shipbuilding quality assurance company. At first he worked in Hamburg, but when Hitler came to power [1933], the headquarters were moved to Paris.

There was also quite a numerous family of  Imerglucks in Podgorze [district of Cracow]. Among others, there was an old grandpa there, I forget his name, who lived to be 93. He fought in the January Uprising. [National uprising in 1863-64 against Russian rule.] I don’t know how he ended up in Kongresowka [see The Kingdom of Poland] 1, but I do know that he was a veteran of 1863. I even visited him as a child... he was a hunter and their home was filled with stuffed animal trophies.

My grandparents lived in Warsaw. Their home was in a very elegant place, on Smolna Street, opposite what is now the drugstore at the corner of Smolna and Nowy Swiat, on the third floor [the house was destroyed in WWII].

That’s where the two eldest sons of my grandparents were born: Bernard Mintz, who later became a doctor, and my father – Izydor Jozef. My father was born in 1877, on 22nd March, and his brother was born some two or three years earlier. Later my grandparents moved, and the youngest son, Zygmunt was born at their new place, at number 40 Marszalkowska Street, right at Zbawiciela square. In 1913 my grandparents moved to Cracow and lived at number 2 Czarneckiego Street.

Then there were also two daughters: Anna, who was older than my father, and Natalia, who was younger – both were, of course, called Mintz. And later they both married their uncles, the brothers of my grandmother Imergluck, so their names were then Imergluck. It was quite a complicated situation, and really amusing, because they were simultaneously each other’s aunts and sisters in law of their own mother.

My father’s eldest sister, Anna Imergluck, née Mintz, had four children, but she died young, when she was in her thirties. For her husband, Izydor, this was terribly painful. And half a year afterwards he died as well. So the four children were left behind.

These children were raised in the home of my grandmother Roza’s sister, Jetka [Jettit] Imergluck in Cracow at 33 Jozefinska Street. The costs of their upbringing were covered by the younger brother of grandmother Roza, Wilhelm. He had bought a house in Paris [for rent] and the income from this huge house was used to cover the costs of living of those children.

My father’s older brother, Bernard, completed his studies in Vienna around 1908-9. There he married and her name was Maria (people called her Mitzi). She was a native of Vienna, and although there are many Catholics in Vienna, she was a protestant.

Until 1926 they lived in Lodz, at 6 Plac Wolnosci [Freedom Square]. They were childless, but since they loved children, they always had Christmas parties at their house and all the children of my mother’s sisters would come visit them. Bernard and Mitzi could afford this, they were quite wealthy.

Bernard was the head of a ward in a hospital, and he also worked in a doctors’ co-operative called Sanitas. Since we were also doing quite well, the gifts he gave us were rather modest. But my mother’s sisters were not so well off, so for them he would prepare more meaningful presents. It was all very nicely arranged. Bernard had never been baptized but his wife was a protestant.

My father’s younger brother, Zygmunt, graduated in law some time in the early 20s, and he became a judge in Bochnia near Cracow. Up until the war he was a judge in a town court. There was some pressure, but he never got baptized. Zygmunt had a wife named Erna.

In 1927 or  1928 their son Adam was born. Before the war Zygmunt would sometimes visit us in Lodz – he came rarely, but he did come – and then we would sometimes travel to Cracow, for family gatherings of sorts.

My father’s whole family was quite polonized, assimilated, several generations back they had spoken only Polish, the children were sent to Polish schools... In any case, a nice bit of evidence of the extent of their assimilation is that my father had given us Polish names.

Moreover, he insisted that other children born in my mother’s family should be given Polish names, too. The point was for the kids to have an easier time later in their lives. So that my older brother, he was my senior by some 6 years, was named Wladyslaw, then I was named Stefan, and the youngest one was called Ludwik. Wladek, Stefek and Lulek [Polish diminutives for the three brothers].

My mother’s maiden name was Fajner, she was named Anna, but everyone called her Andzia, Anele. My mom’s documents said she was Chana vel Anna. She was born in Olkusz in 1891. Her parents’ names were Maurycy and Roza Fajner, but I don’t know the maiden name of my grandmother.

Later her family moved to Lodz. There were very many of them. In my father’s family there were three brothers and two sisters, but here there were as many as eight children. Her sisters: Bella and Helena; and her brothers: Samuel, Jakub, Maksymilian, Adolf and Jozef. Eight altogether.

The eldest was Samuel Fajner, who served in the tsarist army and was involved in the social-democratic movement. As you know, this was an illegal party in Russia [SDKPiL] 2 and right before the revolution of 1905 [Russian Revolution] 3  he was warned by some officers who were his friends, that his name was on the proscription list – as one of the people to be shot. 

He ran away from the army with his friend Roghovy, a native Russian. They stopped at home for just about half an hour, they were so scared of the tsar’s security forces following them. They emigrated to the USA, through Germany. And from about 1906 onwards he lived in the United States.

Up to about 1922 Adolf worked for my father. My father had an electro-technical establishment. Adolf learned the profession while working for him, but then things got difficult in Poland, so he emigrated to Germany, to Dortmund in the Rhine region. He lived there until more or less 1938, working, among other things, as a taxi driver.

Then he moved to Manchester in England. He was struggling financially and he believed things would work out better for him in America. And just before the war he was planning to join his brother Samuel in Cleveland, he even sent all his belongings out there. Then the war broke out and he stayed in England, in Manchester. He survived the war, just as Samuel’s family in Cleveland did.

My mother’s younger brothers, Maksymilian and Jozef, both took part in the 1905 revolution – they were on the barricades as young boys. My uncle Jakub Fajner was quite an active member of Poalei Zion 4. The brothers of the husband of Helena, my mother’s younger sister, that is Wolf and Jakub Eichner, were activists in Bund 5. My relatives were so numerous, that when I arrived in Cracow after completing my high school finals in 1939, I had a difficult time stopping by and visiting each of them, to collect my presents... It was a family of about one hundred people, maybe more than that.

My father was an engineer, specializing in electric technology. He graduated from Russkoye Realnoye Uchilishche [Russian Highschool with emphasis on the Sciences in its curriculum] on Nowy Zjazd street in Warsaw. After that he studied in Germany. He completed one faculty in Sachsen Anhalt, and then another, that is mechanics, he did in Charlottenburg, Berlin.

He spoke German very well, and he spoke French, and then later he taught himself English as well, in his mature years. Why did he choose to study abroad? German technical universities had an excellent reputation. And my father wanted to have the diploma of a polytechnic that really meant something in the world.

Anyway, in those times a degree in engineering was not what it is today, the position of an engineer was incomparably higher. My father did his apprenticeship in the ‘Lazarz’ coal mine near Sosnowiec, and then another in the paper-works of prince Druckolubecki in the Smolensk province. 

How did my parents meet? That is a long story. After my mother’s oldest brother ran off to the United States, it was the grandfather, Maurycy Fajner, who supported the family. He did trade in Lodz, but what he traded in I don’t know exactly. So here was the situation: seven children, and two parents, and suddenly there is no income.

That was when my mother, who was 17 at the time [it was 1908], decided to set up a sewing workshop for women. She got her sisters involved in this project, they had three sewing machines, and they supported the entire family. My mother, being so brave and so smart, enjoyed great respect in the family.

She was the unwritten head of the household. She even managed to put aside a dowry for herself, of 700 rubles [the equivalent of 15 average salaries of an office worker]. This was a huge sum of money! She kept it in a postal savings account. They thought after the war [WWI] that there would be something left of it... but of course they never saw any of it. And she also prepared her whole trousseau.

Because she was working so hard, she would take her vacations in Ojcowo [near Cracow]. But then one year she went to Kazimierz on the Vistula [small very old town about 50 km west of Lublin], and this is where she met my father.

So this is where they met. And my father decided to move to Lodz for my mother’s sake. He opened his electro-technical office there. They got married on 18th March 1914. My older brother, Wladek, Wladyslaw, was born on 26th January 1915.

Soon after that the Russians left Lodz [on 5th December the Russian army began its evacuation. On 6th December 1914 the Germans took over Lodz]. My younger brother Ludwik, known as Lulek, was born on 27th March 1922. 

  • Growing up

And I was born in August 1920 in Lodz. In fact I was born on the 14th August, but in my papers they put the 15th, and since I was already the second son, my father was not so particular about what it said in the papers. I was born in the apartment building at 44 Kilinskiego Street, but at that time it was still called Widzewska.

My parents also owned a villa in Wisniowa Gora [about 15 km east of Lodz]. I spent my childhood with my parents. We often traveled, because I was quite a sickly child, so my mother would take me to health resorts more often that the other boys. To Ciechocinek for instance. My brothers were stronger than I was. But later I grew to be strong as well. Thanks to sports I got to be no worse than the others.

We kept on living at Kilinskiego 44 until 1936. Afterwards, for a brief while,  my father rented an apartment at number 1 Glowna Street, but we basically moved into our villa in Wisniowa Gora. On Kilinskiego Street we paid very high rent: 133 zloty per month. That was quite a lot. As long as my father earned a full income, this high rent was not such a big problem. But then it became a real burden for him. And since he didn’t like to get behind on the rent, we had to get rid of this apartment.

Kilinskiego 44 was a huge apartment building, constructed a short time before the first war [WWI]. It was owned by Wislicki – a Lodz capitalist of Jewish descent, who owned a number of houses. Our apartment was on the second floor in the side annex, it was number 44, so my father would often joke ‘And his name was 44’ – like in Mickiewicz [allusion to famous quote from ‘Dziady’ by Adam Mickiewicz] 6.

Our apartment consisted of three rooms and a kitchen. It was quite spacious and well furnished.

There was a hallway, a corridor,  and then opposite you faced my parents’ bedroom. On the left there was the largest room: dining- and living-room in one. And from this dining-living room, if you turned right, you walked into my father’s study. You could also enter this study directly from the staircase.

So there were two entries into the apartment: the main one was on the right, as you walked up the stairs, and the other one you faced straight from the stairs, and it led directly into the study. Later, when things got rough, my parents rented out the study.

At the beginning, in the first three years of my life, because I was a bit sickly, I used to sleep between my parents. My brothers slept in what later became the study. When Wladek graduated and left, Ludwik and I slept in the dining room, but this did not last very long, because later we moved out of the apartment.

Our apartment on Kilinskiego Street had a bathroom, with running water. In this period Junkers gas stoves were just only being introduced [Junkers – the make but also popular name of water-heaters; the company has existed since the beginning of the 20th century]. We had a coal stove.

At least once a week the children were bathed, but in the summer it was more often. The kitchen stove was also a coal one, but there was a gas stove as well. We had electricity. My father was, in general, a great enthusiast of all technical novelties, such as the radio for instance.

In 1925 the first radio transmitting station was activated in Warsaw [Editor’s note: the first radio station was activated in Warsaw in 1918; subsequent ones started working in 1924, 1926 and 1931], so we had ‘detectors’ – a kind of crystal operated receivers.

Later on a friend of my father’s, Ignacy Strasfogel, brought us a lamp-based receiver, with a speaker. This must have been in 1926. Half the neighborhood would come over to listen to that radio. It was such a novelty. And later, for instance – there was the vacuum cleaner.

Two companies made them in this period: Elektrolux and Protos, both of them Swedish. My father bought a Protos, and I think it was the only vacuum in our building. I remember also that my father bought a car one time – an roofless Ford, a sports-car – and this car gave him two great moments of joy.

The first joy was when he bought it, and the second one, even greater than the first, was when he sold it. Because this ford would work a bit, but more often it broke down. It would be parked downstairs, in the courtyard, and the kids would go there, and break it. So when my father got rid of it, he was enormously happy.

Later there were these machines, a sort of half-washing machine, these were not yet automatic machines. In the years 1936-37 there was a wave of Polish Jews coming in from Germany to settle in Poland again, because in Germany they were being persecuted. So one of these returning Jews offered my father such an addition to our boiler – a washing machine.

In this apartment building on Kilinskiego Street there must have been at least seventy apartments, with two courtyards. One was bigger, one was smaller, and then there was a number of annexes. The people who lived there were mostly Jews, more or less assimilated. Directly under us lived the Rozenbergs.

I was good friends with a boy my age, Samuel Rozenberg, who – if still alive – is settled in Australia, a doctor, the owner of a polyclinic in Sydney. His uncle lived right next to us, but to enter his apartment you had to go through the other courtyard.  Then there was the Zylberszac family – they owned a factory that made, among other things, poplin for shirts.

So they formed a joint company: Zylberszac and Rozenberg. The oldest Zylberszac brother studied in Belgium and was a member of the communist party. Anka Zylberszac, the older sister, was in Vienna. Later she and her husband emigrated to the Soviet Union. The youngest sister, Ruth Zylberszac, who was more or less my age, got me involved in the communist youth cells. Samek [Samuel] Rozenberg, on the other hand, did not hold any leftist views.

Downstairs in our building there also lived the Kons. After the war Leon Kon became the district governor of Walbrzych, but by that time he called himself Leon Kan. In the front annex there was a department store, the owner’s name was  Leon Rubaszkin. He was a Jew from Moscow.

In Russia they had these settlement border rules for Jews, showing where Jews were allowed to live and where they were not. In Moscow, generally Jews were not allowed to live, but the intelligentsia – doctors, dentists, tradesmen on the first guild, in other words the very rich – they could live there. [see Jewish Pale of Settlement] 7.

My father had his electro-technical office on the ground floor, and further inside we had the house of prayer, which you entered from the other courtyard. My grandfather, Maurycy Fajner, was one of the people who went there regularly. But there were very few such religious Jews living in our building, only a few families...

The others were all assimilated, maybe they did believe in God but they did not practice on a daily basis. It was rather people from the outside that came to the house of prayer, because in our part of town [center of Lodz] there lived plenty of Jews.

Lodz had the second largest Jewish community in Poland, and possibly in Europe as well – Warsaw had the largest one. In Warsaw there were over 400,000 Jews, and in Lodz there were almost as many [Editor’s note: In 1939 there were 200,000 Jews in Lodz –  30% of the city’s population.

Pre-WWII Warsaw had over 300,000 Jews, also about 30% of the entire population]. There are good reasons that even today Lodz is referred to as ‘a city of four cultures’: Polish, Jewish, German and Russian. Even among our acquaintances in Lodz there were many Russians, who had stayed after the evacuation of Russian authorities and the Russian army.

One of my classmates, for instance, was Wlodek Nikonorow, a good friend of mine. We also had the Gombergs, immigrants from Russia. They lived at number 49 on Kilinskiego Street. This was another of those assimilated Jewish families. Lodz had quite a mixture of nations in those times, but I must say they all lived on friendly terms with one another.

My father was very assimilated, but despite this he did belong to the Jewish community, and he paid his dues on time. Moreover, since he had so many Jewish clients, it was considered in good taste for him to have a collection box for financial gifts to Keren Kayemet Leisrael 8. It was a sort of initiative for supporting and for the buying of land from Arab hands into the hand of Jewish settlers in Palestine.

My father was a non-believer, and my mother – though she had very leftist views, basically communist ones – was quite a believer. Of course, she did not practice – only at New Year’s [Rosh Hashanah] and on Yom Kippur she would go and pray for all of  us. Sometimes I would go there to the synagogue with my mother and she did take care to have me confirmed [i.e. that I had my bar mitzvah], and I had to learn alef beys and so on.

My grandfather, Maurycy Fajner, was still alive then, I think he died in 1936. He was the patron of my bar mitzvah. The ceremony took place in the house of prayer in our building on Kilinskiego Street. But my mother did not interfere in our views – as you choose it, so it will be, she’d say. And we, in general, had these extreme left wing views, so we were non-believers, but we respected my mother’s views, and so we didn’t bother her, and neither did my father – and that is the way it was in our family.

Grandpa Maurycy was a religious man, but progressive, too. Certainly, he did celebrate seders, we went over to his place for them a lot. And then later, when grandpa got older and weaker, it was aunt Bela’s husband, Leon Herszman, who did the seders, it was to their place that we all went. But this was all the contact with religion, with tradition, that I had. I never recited the Haggadah, it was always only Jurek Herszman [the son of Bela and Leon] who did that, because he knew it better than I did, so he would ask these questions.

My Father had a lot of clients who preferred to speak Yiddish. If a man came over who was more comfortable with Yiddish, my father was able to understand him, because he was fluent in German. And so, since my father was so used to Yiddish, the conversation would go on, with the other man speaking Yiddish, and my father speaking German.

But there were few such customers, because most people, after all, did speak Polish, even if they were Orthodox Jews. My mother, however, did know Yiddish from childhood, even though they spoke Polish in the household of grandfather Maurycy. But from time to time, when they had some intimate matter to discuss, and didn’t want us children to understand them, then they would speak Yiddish with each other.

And in our household for such situation it was German they would use. But why did my parents know German so well? Because my father had done his studies in Germany and my mother had a lot of her business in Gdansk see Free City of Danzig] 9, and then in general, German was widely known in Lodz.

We had a housekeeper –  in those days you would say we had ‘a girl’ – who  came to us when she was 17, and her name was Jozia Nowak. She was from Belchatow. She stayed with us at least 20 years. We had this little room off from the kitchen, and this is where Jozia slept.

Jozia was treated like a family member, and the children had to obey her. Jozia learned from my mother how to run the kitchen, and how to bake excellent cakes. At our house a home-made cake was baked every Friday – for Saturday and Sunday. And there had to be two types of cake: one was a yeast-based cake and the other was some kind of cheese-cake or an apple pie.

The cake would just sit there in the living-room cupboard, and nobody had to ask if they could have some, each child could just take as much as they wanted. And sometimes, when they expected guests, they would have cakes sent off to the baker’s, to be baked. What we liked most about the cake was the crumble topping, and we would pick at it when it was still hot.

Then my mother would tell Jozia: ‘You’d better  make the crumble for them separately, so they don’t ruin my cake.’ And then I remember in the kitchen cupboard there were almonds for baking, and my mother noticed that I stole  some occasionally when I thought nobody was looking. So she said to me: ‘You know what, we will put the almonds for baking over there, and these here, they will be for you.’

Our household was managed very well, and the kids were always being spoilt, there was great variety of foods at breakfast, and lunch and dinner. I was a bit more picky where food was concerned, but my younger brother, Ludwik, he was well known for his appetite.

When he got hot milk with pasta, he would say: ‘More pasta, more, more.’ Later, when we moved off to Wisniowa Gora [to the family villa in a small town near Lodz], Jozia became the chief cook. By then my mother did not have to take care of kitchen matters personally, she would just give directions, and sometimes a recipe – if it was some new dish. The food was wonderful, always. My mother was enormously hospitable, and she entertained lots of guests, especially on Saturdays.

On Kilinskiego Street there were these small shops. I remember especially this one really wonderful dairy shop, which belonged to the Segals. Like Chagall 10 – it was the same name, really, except that he had come from Vitebsk, and our shop-owner was a Segal from Lodz.

So from him we got our milk,  cheese, butter, eggs, everything was from his shop. In those days it was the custom not to pay right away, but instead there was this little book [credit book], and then each month you would pay what was due. This was how things worked.

I remember one more thing: it was considered enormously important at our house to have fresh bread. It came in round 2-kilogram loaves. And we especially liked the bread heels. I used to go buy this bread  near to my aunt’s place, at 29 Narutowicza Street, that’s where the bakery was.

On my way home I would often rip off a piece, it was so good I couldn’t help myself. On Piotrkowska Street there was this lady called Mrs. Bluska, who ran a bakery that sold these teeny-weeny little buns, really crunchy. They were 2 groszy apiece, while a normal bun cost 5 groszy.

Then there was this shop on Ceglana Street, near Piotrkowska, it was called ‘Dorotea.’ My mother was always buying sweets there. Candy, small chocolates, chocolate in bars. When I was a bit bigger, I would help mama out at home, and she would send me to this ‘Dorotea,’ with a list in my hand, so I would buy exactly what she wanted.

And another shop was a delicatessen, owned by Mrs. Jaworska, a Polish woman, on Narutowicza Street. My mother used to buy tapioca and some other specialty foods there, and from time to time she’d buy cranberries. That is where you’d buy wine, except for wine for Passover dinner, because that had to be kosher, so we’d get it in a special store.

When we went over to my grandfather’s for a seder, we always took two or three bottles of this kosher wine with us. So as to be accommodating, and to make a contribution to the meal.

My mother would buy meat from a Jewish butcher, at 50 Kilinskiego Street. Jewish meat had one big advantage, that is why my mother bought it. You see, it was koshered. What does this mean? It means that all the veins were taken out. So it didn’t require work at home. At our house meat was mostly marinated. First it was marinated, rubbed with garlic, and then only a few days later it was cooked.

The same for the cold-cuts, and it’s interesting that we did that, in a way, because we did not keep kosher. It was only at Passover that my mother koshered the food. But she genuinely liked kosher meats, especially this special goose sausage.

Later, when I became a bit more independent, my younger brother, Ludwik and myself rented a room in same the building where Helena, our aunt, lived, at 31 Narutowicza Street. My parents were living at Wisniowa Gora by then, and this arrangement was made so that we wouldn’t have to walk to the station every morning in the winter, so it would be a bit easier for us.

I was the one who ran our household, but it was arranged that I had lunch every day at a this restaurant,  at Handelsman’s, at 21 Narutowicza Street. The owners had a daughter, Bella, Izabela Handelsman, who was later my fiancee. Breakfast and supper we would make for ourselves, at home. And there was this Jewish dairy-grocery shop, where we would always do our shopping on credit.

I would take care of the bills later, I as a marvelous housekeeper, if you know what I mean. Our favorite dish was raspberry jam. We would buy bread, butter and jam in this shop, everything we bought in this shop. It was a corner house: number 57 on Kilinskiego Street, and 31 on Narutowicza. But the owner’s name – that I don’t remember.

It was only rarely that we would go to the market in Lodz. My mother had her own deliverymen from villages, and so this cream for instance, so thick that the spoon would stand in it, this cream was brought directly to our home. It was the same later on, and at Wisniowa Gora. She wouldn’t even have to check if the cream was clean or not.

Because some of them would add flour to the cream. Then there was this door-to-door salesman who always brought Wysocki’s tea. Wysocki, it was a Moscow company, which brought tea from China, and India.  [The company still exists, it is now called  Wissotzky Tea Company, and has its base in Tel Aviv].

We didn’t drink much coffee, and more often it was ersatz coffee, not the real thing, because it was for kids. The basic drink in our house was tea, my father was a great tea-lover. He learned to drink it in Russia, when he was working in the Smolensk province, with prince Druckolubecki.

He was a young engineer, just beginning his professional life, and in those days it was real prestige, quite a social position, not like an engineer today. He often told us how the prince invited him to join him at the table, and everything was served Lithuanian style.

Among other things, they served bear meat with honey, and he had to eat that. He could hardly swallow the stuff, but he ate it anyway. Anyway, this is where he learned to drink tea. And at our house evening tea was quite a ritual. Everyone else used normal powder sugar, but for my father it had to be sugar cubes, because he liked to drink his tea Russian style, ‘na prikusku’ [biting on a chunk of sugar while he drank his tea].

My father rarely smoked cigarettes – just for the sake of style. I did not smoke either, but Ludwik got into it when he reached the age of about 16. And he would smoke secretly. He had to hide the habit for health reasons, because everyone said that smoking was bad for you.

Our uncle Minc from Cracow also used to smoke, but later he gave up. Obviously, when the guests came, there would be an ashtray ready. Cigarette brands? Ergo, Egipskie. Egipskie were very expensive, and if I bought cigarettes at all it was Egipskie. They would just sit around waiting, so I could have one once in a few months. I could smoke with my parents around, even as a boy, because they were not worried I would get hooked on it.

What did we read? What newspapers did we have at home? My father was basically a liberal, but in the late 1930s he got closer to socialist views. When he had some qualms or hesitations we would watch him closely [making sure he voted for the socialists].

We didn’t have to watch mother, but father we did, so he would always vote for the socialists, for ‘number two’ [the election list number 2] in Lodz. So at home we would have two Lodz newspapers. One was more liberal – ‘Republika.’ For a long time we used to subscribe to ‘Republika.’

And the other paper, which was more of the left wing shade, was ‘Glos Poranny,’ and later my father began to subscribe that paper. But there was a period of time when he bought both papers. There was an open kiosk, right in front of our building. My father would also buy weeklies. There was a lot of reading going on in my family. My father hated to miss any news. And mother also read a lot. This is why they spoke Polish so beautifully.

We were all enrolled in Polish schools. At first I attended the primary school number 122 at 27 Narutowicza Street. Later, I went on to the Wisniewski gymnasium. Wisniewski was the owner of this school, which was named after Boleslaw Prus. My older brother also attended this school.

At first he had gone to the public school named after Nicolaus Copernicus, on Ceglana Street. And my younger brother, Ludwik, when he completed elementary school, he went to a technical gymnasium. I was only at Wisniewski’s school until 1935, because after that things got a little difficult for our family and there were problems with paying the tuition, which was quite high.

My cousin Teofila, that is Tecia Herszman, prepared me for the competitive exam. I passed this exam and I went on to a city school, the Jozef Pilsudski Boys’ Gymnasium at 48 Sienkiewicza Street. The city school was different from the other one in that the tuition was much lower to begin with, and then it was basically determined by the parents’ committee on the basis of the financial situation of a given family.

We paid an average tuition, which, in any case, was much much lower than tuition in the private school. And it was from this school that I graduated. I was good at studying. I was one of the students who excelled, especially in the sciences. In 1939 I took my finals. If you got 5 [the highest grade] in the written exam, then you were excused from taking the oral.

So I was excused both from the Polish language and literature oral, and from the one in math. But I did have to take physics and chemistry because this was what my class specialized in, we were being prepared to enter the polytechnic. I passed all the exams with excellent results.

What later helped me a lot in mastering other languages was Latin. I had such luck that only two boys out of the entire class were taking French, Wlodek Merle and myself. So I mastered French rather well for school expectations... but then the expectations in our school were rather high, we had 2 hours of French 3 times a week. And since there were only two of us, we always had to be prepared.

The teacher had time for us, so we worked our way through French literature and history and the geography of France and Paris. When I later got to France, and found myself in Paris, I knew it all. We had to study languages. The situation at Polish universities was very tense, very difficult, there was ‘numerus clausus’ [see Anti-Jewish Legislation in Poland] 11 and Jews were being persecuted, so we were seriously considering the possibility of my going to France or to England to study.

Let me now tell you a bit about my interest in sports. Some time in the 1930s they opened a swimming pool in Wisniowa Gora, and this was where I learned to swim. At first I just jumped into the water and I nearly drowned... Then I learned to swim so well, that I even became an instructor. I made an extra bit of money for myself at the pool. In 1935 I joined the Maccabi club 12, they were based at 21 Kosciuszki Street in Lodz, in a side annex on the ground floor.

Hanna Torunska lived on the first floor, she was a sort of family friend whom we called ‘aunt.’ In this club the most important thing was swimming. We used to go to Zgierz, where they had a swimming pool, not so big but quite good. We would take an electric train to get there, about 10 or 12 km. Later, at school, we went to the YMCA, it’s American: Young Men’s Christian Association.

Well, this was Christian, and the climate there was not so good for Jews. As a student of my school I could go there, but members of the Maccabi club were banned at the YMCA, it was out of the question for them to take part. In any case, at least twice a week I would go swimming.

I got first class qualifications, took part in competitions and did rather well. I later got a swimming badge of the Polish Swimmers’ Association, and then the badge of a lifeguard and instructor.

As far as leisure time is concerned, I must say that we really enjoyed music. My father was a great music lover, and my mother, too, had a really good ear. But there was no permanent Jewish theater in Lodz. [From 1912 onwards Jewish actors gave performances in the building at 18 Ceglana Street (today 15 Wieckowskiego Street) in the Scala theater. The Lodz troupe, named Folks un Jugnt Teater, gave many performances in Lodz in the 1930s. The building of Scala was burnt down, reconstructed in 1950 and used by Jewish actors until 1956.]

But there were many visiting performances, among them the famous theater of Habima 13, who later settled and performed in Palestine. They gave their performances in Yiddish, and later they also played in Hebrew. He came to Lodz with various plays. I remember, for example, the stories my parents told about ‘Dybuk’ [Der Dibuk] 14 by An-ski 15, the enormous impression it made on them.

My father didn’t know Yiddish and mother had to translate for him, but the play was so intense that this did not bother him too much. At the time there were no headphones like they now have in the Jewish Theater [Reference to simultaneous interpretation of works in Yiddish offered to audiences of the Jewish Theater in Warsaw].

Moreover, my mother and father never missed a chance to go if there was a performance of some opera or operetta. My father knew all the melodies, and he could play the piano himself, we had a piano at home. Ours was, in general, a very musical family, because Natalia Imergluck, my father’s younger sister was a professor at the conservatory in Cracow.

My brother Wladek learned to play the piano. I, on the other hand, was supposed to learn to play the piano, but unfortunately, it never happened, even though I was quite musical. I considered myself a kind of cripple for this reason, but unfortunately by the time I was ready we were in financial difficulties, and my father sold the piano.

The Polski Theater was very close to our house, on Ceglana Street. At the turn of the 1920s and 1930s this theater was ran by Zelwerowicz [Zelwerowicz, Aleksander (1877-1955): actor, director, teacher. Played in about 800 theater pieces. Directed the work of a number of Polish theaters, played also in films and performed on the radio.

The creator of theater academies in Warsaw]. My father helped out in the installation of electricity in this theater, its illumination so to speak. And so, since he had business ties to this theater, he also met Zelwerowicz, the great master of Polish stage, one of the greatest actors of the old generation. Since my father offered his services to the theater, he received tickets free of charge, on an honorary basis.

And I would go to various plays with my father. I was quite young then, 8 or 9 years old. Later on, we got season’s tickets at school, both at my gymnasium and at the Pilsudski lyceum. To make things fair, they gave us different seats each time. One time you had better seats, another time you had worse ones. We went regularly with my schoolmates, at least once a month. And in the later years we would write reviews from the plays we saw.

My father also knew Arthur Rubinstein 16, way back when he was still a very young, enormously gifted musician, at the beginning of his career, a pianist – and later, as is well known, he would be world-famous. My father had such artistic connections. For instance, he knew Szyk 17, the painter, very well known in Lodz. And my mother knew Tuwim 18, but of course in those days he was just starting out as a poet.

She also knew his wife-to-be, Stefania Marchewka. But it was quite natural that my parents knew these people, because they were well rooted in the circles of the intelligetsia, and had a huge number of acquaintances.

Before the war, I also went to the cinema a lot. From my youngest years I was a great movie fan, and I had great conditions to pursue this interest. Why is that? Well, it’s quite a long story. My mother sewed very well. One proof of her skills  as a dressmaker is that she could make a model dress for herself in two and a half, or maybe three hours.

But my father wouldn’t allow her to sew, he thought it was a dishonor to himself. He believed he should be the one to support the family, and my mother should not try to make extra money. But my mother had these lady friends, and these ladies would put pressure on her to sew for them, because they valued her talent so much.

My mother would secretly make dresses for them, hiding the fact from my father. My father pretended not to notice, and when things got more difficult [financially] he pretended even more, and so my mother kept on sewing. From this work she had a huge array of acquaintances, some of them going back to her maiden days.

There were some owners of cinemas among them, or rather the wives of cinema-owners, who were good friends of my mother. The first cinema was on Ceglana, at the corner with Piotrkowska Street, and it was called ‘Czary’ [‘Magic’]. They were always playing cowboy movies there, silent ones of course and I had free seats.

Then I also went to the ‘Corso’ movie theater, on Zielona Street. I would never miss a Tarzan movie of course. Later on, when I was an older boy, 12, 13, 14 years old and a bit more, my mother had this client who owned the two largest cinemas in Lodz: one was ‘Europa,’ on Narutowicza Street, near Pilsudskiego, formerly Wschodnia Street, right behind the Lodz Philharmonic, and then the other was on Piotrkowska Street, near 6 Sierpnia Street, it was called ‘Casino.’  

I had free entry into these two big screen cinemas, and I would never miss a movie. And not only did I have free entry, but thanks to this connection, I could also sometimes bring in my closest friends, but with the owner’s permission, of course.

I also went to other movie theaters, the cinema-going-bug was so deep inside me. I saw basically all the Chaplin movies that were shown in those days: ‘The Dictator,’ and the famous one called ‘City Lights,’ and ‘The Kid,’ and so on... I remember that sometime in 1936-1937 there was a boycott of German movies and we wouldn’t see any of those.

In the summer months we stayed in Wisniowa Gora, and when the weather was bad we would go spend the day in Lodz – a whole group of boys and girls – and see movies, at least two in one day one in the morning and then another in the afternoon.

Moreover, in Wisniowa Gora, there was a summer cinema, but the films they showed there were not the most popular ones. My brothers also loved the movies. Wladek was a bit of a film-fanatic, but Ludwik was less into it than we were.

Then there was dancing. I never had to attend a dance school. When I was 9 years old, we had these boarders in our bed and breakfast in Wisniowa Gora – the Sladkowskis. They had a daughter, Stefania Sladkowska, who was about 11 years older than me. I was desperately in love with her as a child. And she loved me too. She would take me dancing with her. And it became her ambition to teach me how to dance. She started out with the hardest dance – the English waltz.

Later she taught me the foxtrot and so on. So at the tender age of 9 or 10 I was already an excellent dancer. I remember that later, at the Jewish gymnasium for girls I got a prize for classical dances and national dances. Later this would turn out enormously useful to me. My brother would come home from Cracow, for his vacation, he would take me to dances – and his girl friends were always eager to dance with me, because I was just a small kid, but such a great dancer.

In the later years in Lwow, when I was moving in the academic circles, I taught all the girls I knew, who were coming from the rural areas, from Wolyn. And whenever they got something good from home, they would bring it right to me, because I was the main dancing instructor.

As far as more serious matters are concerned, politics... It was a general phenomenon, that kids from enlightened, well-to-do homes had leftist leanings. Extreme left, in fact. Take for instance, Mieczyslaw Librach, a friend of my brother’s. His father owned a factory on Pomorska Street, and the boy was a communist.

The best joke was when he took part in the strike of the workers in his father’s factory – against his father. This phenomenon was due to enormous differences in the level of life, in financial status. There was such a mass of poverty, and it wasn’t just Polish poverty, but Jewish as well. For instance, in Baluty, it was a one of the poorest districts of Lodz.

My older brother had ties with the Communist Union of Polish Youth 19. My mother begged him to take his finals first, because he would make his views known at school, and he often got into trouble for that reason. The school principal would go after him and so on. So he promised he wouldn’t get too deeply involved.

Later he went to Cracow to pursue his studies in law, at the Jagiellonian University. He nearly graduated, he was done with all the coursework [when the war broke out]. During his studies he was active in the The Union of Independent Socialist Youth (ZNMS) [a student organization established in 1917.

Active mostly on Warsaw and Cracow campuses. Politically linked to the Polish Socialist Party. Dismantled in 1938, reconstructed in 1946]. In 1948 it became part of the Academic Union of Polish Youth.

These were the 1930s still, a period when the Polish Communist Party 20 was banned... thanks to Stalin, after all. I only remember that sometimes these messengers would show up in our summer house in Wisniowa Gora, bringing these materials, illegal papers.

Wladek wouldn’t tell me what it was, he would just say: ‘you hide it well, so well that even the devil can’t find it.’ And I would hide the stuff somewhere under the house foundations... I didn’t ask who or what, I knew you were not supposed to ask, this is how it was.

I did get involved a little. In 1937, when the war in Spain was going on [Spanish Civil War] 21, we collected money at school for MOPR – International Organization of Support for Revolutionaries [subordinate to the 3rd International, in Poland also known as the ‘Red Help’]. It was illegal. There were these tiny little photos of Spain in struggle, and we distributed those.

For a brief period I belonged to the youth Zionist organization Hashomer Hatzair 22. It was a leftist scouting organization. How did I end up in it? One of my friends told me – listen, you come, and you see. And I liked it there, they taught us dances, songs.

Later I had less and less time, because most of it was used up studying. Moreover, my views gradually shifted more towards the left, so I did not identify with the Zionist movement any longer. Although I did sympathize with them in the sense that I knew their aims were right.

At some point in the 1930s the activity of extreme nationalist political organizations became more intense. More than anything else it was the ND [Endeks] 23. But as far as Polish youth is concerned, all of this [the fascination with nationalist ideas] was really quite superficial.

In my class, besides myself, there was also Rosenblum and Rutsztajn, which made 3 [Jews] out of 25 persons. And mostly, the attitude towards us was quite decent. But in the years closer to the war, to 1939, the mood changed.

In the Pilsudski school the teachers were mostly leftist in their views, with maybe one or two exceptions. There were very few supporters of ‘sanacja’ [Derived from the Latin ‚sanus‘ (health) it means healing and refers to the political group which came to power in Poland after the May coup in 1926 and governed until the start of WWII.] and Jozef Pilsudski 24 among the teachers.

In our lyceum there were different kinds of student organizations: study groups, co-operatives, sports clubs. We made sure that after the elections each of those groups was ran by boys with left wing views. This was our political nursery, so to speak, it shaped our attitudes.

Anyway, you could always count on your friends, regardless of their views, I think. In the early days of the German occupation in Lodz I ran into Tadeusz Filipczynski, who had right wing views. Jews are already forbidden to walk the streets, and he meets me on Plac Wolnosci [Freedom Square] and says: ‘Stefek, you are putting yourself at risk of repression.’

And I say to him: ‘Listen Tadzio, you aren’t going to tell anyone that you saw me, are you?’ And he says ‘Are you crazy? Of course I’m not telling, no way would I tell anyone, don’t you know me?’ It was impossible even to consider such a possibility, of denouncing someone of Jewish descent. Political views had nothing to do with it.

  • During the war

In 1939 we already knew that Hitler was going to attack Poland. Especially after the speech of our foreign minister Beck in the Parliament in May, it became clear that war with Germany was only a matter of months [on 5th of May 1939 the minister of foreign affairs Jozef Beck gave a speech in the Parliament in which he opposed strongly Hitler’s demands made to Poland: his claim on Gdansk as part of the Reich, and his plan to construct an extra-territorial railroad and highway across the coastal region].

So we were beginning to prepare ourselves a bit. In the summer of 1939 I went to visit my relatives in Cracow. My older brother Wladyslaw, Wladek, was a student at the Jagiellonian University 25 and in 1939 he was in his last year of law.

He was living in a dormitory at number 3 Przemyska Street, near the Debicki bridge, which leads to Podgorze, off from Starowislna. I was staying with him in the dormitory and visiting relatives. Wladek was a very good student, he was enormously gifted

Then I went back to Lodz. My mother was busy in Wisniowa Gora at this time, running the guest house with her friend Lewinska. My school friends were coming there to rest after the final exams. For instance Arnold Juniter, who later became an officer of the Polish army, a pilot in the 1st Army, Warsaw Contingent. My summer passed rather happily, but we all felt that carefree, normal life is coming to an end for us. We had this feeling, but we did not really know what war meant.

I mentioned already my fiancee, Izabela Handelsman, the daughter of the people who owned the restaurant on Narutowicza Street. There were two daughters – the older one, whose name I do not remember, and this younger one, named Bela. We met and we fell deeply in love.

I respected her very much, and anyhow in our family it was the rule that you should respect a girl for whom you had serious intentions. She would come visit me from time to time, but God forbid that I should even think of touching her, nothing of the sort. She went with me to the school ball held 100 days before the finals. Izabela had ties to the left, to communist youth, even more so than I did. In those days, all of that was secret. The Communist Union of Polish Youth had been dismantled already.

We quarreled over a trifle that summer [1939]. I was offended that she wanted to take her vacation somewhere else than I had imagined, and finally we spent the summer separately. But when the war broke out we made up immediately.

We made this agreement: that she would come to Lwow, that we would settle there... she was supposed to come to Lwow with my mother. But none of this worked out, and we didn’t see each other  till after the war.

In the very first days of the war I evacuated myself to Warsaw. I mean I did it on my own. On foot, and sometimes by train. I was shot at a train station between Skierniewice and Koluszki [this might have been the town of Rogow, Lipce Reymontowskie or Makow – all located about 30 km east of Lodz]. This was my first experience with real war – the Germans were shooting at the line Koluszki – Warsaw.

You couldn’t go any further than that by train, and we continued on foot at night, since the Germans were shooting at refugees in the daytime. This is how I reached Grodzisk [Grodzisk Mazowiecki – small town located about 25 km south-west of Warsaw].

I was hoping to reach my father’s school friend, Ignacy Sztrasfogel, who was a high-level official in the ministry of transport and the head of the Railroad School. He was childless, and you could say that he treated us like his adopted children.

In the years before the war I would sometimes cycle to Warsaw on my bicycle, and he always welcomed me, and showed me around the city. But this time he wasn’t there because, along with the whole regional management of the railway system, he had been evacuated to Brzesc [Brzesc on the River Bug – city located about 200 km east of Warsaw].

I reached Warsaw on 7th September. The next day, on the 8th, there was a recruitment spot of volunteers set up on Trzech Krzyzy Square, and so I joined the Army. I was in the military through the entire September campaign 26. Some men from Lodz met me and got me out – I was moved to the motorized column of general Czuma [Gen. Walerian Czuma was in charge of the Command of Warsaw’s Defense, which was created on 3rd September 1939]. We were stationed at the Citadel.

Later, in the final days of the mass air attack, and bombing of the Citadel, we were moved to underground garage, at 77 Jerozolimskie Avenue. That is where I stayed till the day of surrender [28th September, 1939]. Incidentally, it was right here that I was shot at, right on Twarda Street, and I survived only thanks to the fact that I was wearing a cavalry helmet. Because a splinter of a shrapnel hit the helmet, and merely made a dent in it.

I got a higher rank, I was even decorated with a medal for my participation in getting the wounded out, and bringing food and ammunition to the first line of battle. On 25th September, our commander, lieutenant Wysocki, told us to take off our uniforms – there was no need for the Germans to catch us.

I returned to Lodz. One had to walk on foot to Pruszkow first [12 km to the south east of Warsaw]. Once you got there, there were some trains, freight trains of course, and I got to Andrzejow that way [town near Lodz]. Wisniowa Gora was just 2 kilometers from there, and I expected to find my parents there. Unfortunately, they were not there.

In the very first days of the war they moved to Lodz and stayed with my aunt Helena Eichner, my mother’s younger sister. She had a large apartment, so there was no problem with designating a room for my parents. Things were very very difficult.

My father was an exceptionally honest man. He had some financial obligations, and to settle them he gave away the last bit of money in the first days of the war, so my parents were left with almost nothing. It was lucky that I brought with me some cigarettes.

Because in Warsaw they were being given away. I mean, not exactly given away, but when the Germans were about to take over, the tobacco monopoly was opened and whoever got a chance just took some. I took some, it was worth a few zloty and this was help for my parents.

It was clear that there was no point for young people to stay in Lodz, we knew there would be a ghetto, and so on. So I was getting prepared to cross over the eastern boarder with the Soviet Union. The idea was to get as far as possible away from the Germans.

In the meantime, we got news from Lwow [The city was in Soviet annexed Eastern Poland] 27 that Wladek and his wife Berta were there, and that I should also come – they were waiting for me. So in November 1939, together with my friend Edward Klein, we set off for Lwow.

What made me leave so quickly was that the Germans had already started persecutions of Jews. The older folks still remembered those Germans from the first world war, but these were not the same Germans, and their methods were not the same, either.

On my way east I had to pass through Warsaw once again, and this time I met Ignacy Strasfogel, and stayed at his place at 25 Sienna Street. I slept there and then got across the Bug [Border river between Poland (1939-1945 General Governmentship) and the Soviet Union after September 1939].

We crossed over during the night, more or less at the level of Siemiatycze [i.e. 200 km east of Warsaw]. We didn’t see any Germans, and luckily enough we did not to run into any Russians, either, I mean Soviet border patrols. It wasn’t so easy to cross the boarder, but at this point it was still sort of fluid.

Life was very difficult in Lwow that first year. The winter was severe and there was no work. My brother, Wladek, was receiving some kind of stipend at the Polytechnic: somehow he got a spot as a student of veterinary medicine. He did that even though he was a lawyer, but they offered food, and later he got a room as well. I don’t recall how long it took before my younger brother, Ludwik, joined us, and then also my father and my cousin Jurek Herszman.

Mother stayed in Lodz. Some time after that I got a better job – I was operating these construction machines in ‘Voyenstroy’, that is in military construction. Jurek Herszman was not able to adapt to Lwow life, so he and Ludwik went back to Lodz. And somehow the plan for my mother to join us in Lwow never worked out.

In Lwow I took the entrance exams to the Polytechnic, but I didn’t have a high enough score in Ukrainian, it was a miracle I even got a 3 [passing grade], so I was accepted at the physics and mathematics faculty of the Pedagogical Institute, on the basis of my high score in math and other hard sciences.

This was in 1940. I also worked as a stoker in a hotel... I managed to live on my modest salary, and on top of that I made some money by collecting bottles in hotel rooms. Wladek was living with his wife and our father.

As for me, at first I lived the Worker’s House [workers‘ dormitory] , and later in student dormitories, many of those. The last place where I stayed was at 12 Ormianska Street, on one of the sides of the old Square, opposite the Town Hall.

On 22nd July, Germany attacked the Soviet Union. So war had caught up with us [Editor’s note: The war between Germany and the Soviet Union broke out on 22nd June 1941]. I was preparing for my last exam. During the night of 22nd of July, Lwow was bombed...

So in those first days of the war we were trying to decide what to do next. I had lived through the Warsaw bombings, so I had a certain amount of experience with Germans, and I was trying to calm down the girls in my dormitory. The panic was enormous.

We talked it over at home with my father and my brother, and their verdict was that under no circumstances should I stay in Lwow. As a politically engaged young man, I would be killed right away. I was in the Komsomol 28. In Lwow, generally, the refugees were not welcome in any organizations, regardless of our political views.

We were still living in the shadow of the dismantling of the Polish Communist Party, and the Union of Communist Youth. But in my case, there were testimonies of activists from Cracow, who gave their word that I was ‘a decent man’ and so I was accepted into the Komsomol.

Young people such as myself were being sent over to factories, to brick-yards. On 27th June [1941] I was on my way back from this brick-yard and I was shot at by Ukrainian guerilla fighters. These were people from the OUN, Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists 29, but somehow I got home alive. In any case, it was clear I had better leave.

After I left Lwow, Ludwik did not come back again. And mother never got there, either. My father stayed in Lwow, it’s a miracle they didn’t capture and transport him away..., but since he spoke Russian so well, he showed his documents to the local head of NKVD 30, showed him his German diplomas and explained he was a Polish citizen of Jewish descent.

This man allowed him to remain in Lwow. My father, Wladek and his wife Berta, lived at 29 Na Bajkach Street in Lwow, and this is where I said goodbye to them.

When Germans entered the city, my brother, Wladek got himself some fake papers, and continued working at the Polytechnic (the Polytechnic as such was closed, but individual sections kept on functioning). Later I found out that after I left my younger brother was also in Lwow, along with his wife. But at the time I did not know this. I never met her.

Both my brothers were killed a short time before the Soviet army entered Lwow, I mean, before liberation [1944]. My younger brother was killed about half a year before the Soviet army came in, and the older one just 3 months before. Wladek was so sure of himself that he even gave shelter to a Jewish friend, Henryk Meth.

The Germans came to get this other Jew and they asked him about Wladek. He said: ‘at the Polytechnic.’ So they went to get my brother, then they took Berta, and that was that – my brother and his wife were killed together with this friend of theirs.

My younger brother was captured together with his wife in a round-up in Lwow, in a restaurant. They deciphered his papers, I mean they figured out they were fake, and so he, too, was killed. Out of my direct family I was the only one left, alone like a thumb. In Kiev I got in touch with an old school friend, asked him about my family’s fate – he found nobody. Moreover, I also tried to find out what happened to my fiancee, Izabela Handelsman, who was supposed to come to Lwow...

But unfortunately, I got no news at all. Apparently my parents did get together in the end, in the ghetto in Czestochowa. They were both killed in the early months of 1943, [the liquidation of the Czestochowa ghetto took place at the turn of 1942-43] in Treblinka. 31.

We tried to leave Lwow in an organized way, but we were under fire, so after that each one of us tried on his own. I had this friend from the Polytechnic, Jurek Berenstein, who was from Warsaw, and his parents lived in Slonim in western Belarus, as refugees. So he and I got through to Kiev together.

On foot, and also taking freight trains. We walked to Winnica. We joined a military transport. And in Kiev we went to the Ministry of Education. They gave each of us 30 rubles of relief money, and this was just enough for a pair of shoes, because my old ones were all worn out.

I was almost barefoot by the time we reached Kiev. They put us in a school. And in this school I met my future great friend – Adam Kostaszuk, a Lwow native. He knew Wanda Wasilewska 32, and he himself was politically involved. So Wanda Wasilewska made it possible for us to join the military as volunteers, I mean the Red Army.

At first they sent us to Priluki. This place is well known from ‘With Fire and Sword,’ because it was one of the homes of prince Wisniowiecki [Historical novel by Henryk Sienkiewicz, on the events in the 17th century, in Poland’s eastern borderland]. So these were historic sites.

We went through military training there, and later they sent us to the southern front, but not for long, just a few weeks. Later the order came from the main headquarters of the Soviet Army, that all volunteers born in Poland should be picked out and sent to army units stationed behind the front. Because they were afraid.

It is true that there were some diversionists, people sent by the Germans... but unfortunately they applied the Stalinist rule of collective responsibility. If they were unable to pick out the right people, they had to isolate all the volunteers. So we were taken off to Siberia, to the back units of the army, the construction battalions of the Soviet Army.

Our first job – we built fuel reservoirs for the army. The idea was to put those reservoirs far from the front, so they would not be within reach of the German air force. To be precise, it was in Berdsk, about 25 km from Novosibirsk. And later we got a new task: the Soviet Union had its strategic resources there.

They were stored in these barracks. There was natural rubber and other raw materials. So we were supposed to empty out the barracks and prepare them for receiving factories which were being evacuated from Ukraine, Belarus and western Russia. So we were taking part in that.

Within two months a weapons factory was set to work, which had been removed from Kharkov. Before the war, in Kharkov, this factory was making photo cameras, and during the war it was shifted to military production, for the air force.

They were making, for instance, some optical equipment. It was a work-commune, organized out of abandoned children, in Russian they were called ‘bezprizorni’ – these were kids left over after the victims of the civil war [Russian Revolution] 33.

These children were being raised by the NKVD, and the head of this commune was the NKVD general Berman. He made a cadre out of these kids, which later run the factory. I knew something about electric technology, and then I learned about metalwork as well, so I was involved in opening the factory’s power plant. And I had employees working under me, out of this cadre. They were working in terribly difficult conditions, sometimes the temperature would go down to 30 degrees below zero.

In the fall of 1942, we were moved to Perm, at the time it was called Molotov, on the river Kama, in the Ural. We were also building reservoirs out there. In the meantime these working battalions of the Soviet Army were transformed into construction columns of a more civilian status. In 1943 they moved us to the Udmurtia, near the town of Sarapul on the Kama, again to build reservoirs. And since I had education, knew the language and they trusted me, therefore as early as 1943 I was in charge of transport of machines to Leningrad. 

I learned to drive a car and worked as a car mechanic. In 1943 they gave this gift to Stalin, at the cost of huge human loss: on the anniversary of the October Revolution [see Russian Revolution of 1917] 34 Kiev was liberated. By then it was clear that we would be shifted over to Kiev, to work on rebuilding the city. In the spring of 1944, a few months after the liberation, we were sent over there. In Kiev I worked in the Ukrinyechestroy.

We were reserved, in Russian it was called ‘bronivarniye,’ and it meant they could not recruit us into the military, because we were working for the Army. At this time I wanted to join the First Army [see The 1st Kosciuszko Infantry Division] 35, and my efforts were already quite advanced, but then it turned out that I would not be let off.

This was a terrible disappointment. Ukriniechciestroj received the task of reconstructing Kiev’s industry. The Germans had destroyed absolutely all the factories, and we were supposed to rebuild, first of all, the ones that served the needs of the army. So Ukrinyechestroy was renamed as Kievpromstroy, that is the Kiev Industrial Construction.

While working in Kiev, I was living in a workers’ house on Kierasinnaya, and this is where I later met my wife-to-be, Maria Kipnis. She was working in Svyatoshyn (a suburb of Kiev), in a provisions base. I was enormously attracted to her, but I still kept thinking I shouldn’t be making any commitments because, after all, I have a fiancee. And I didn’t make the decision as long as I wasn’t sure, that is until I got news that I had no one left in Poland. But, I said, there was one condition: we can only get married if I can go back to my country.

She was a Russian with Jewish roots. She came from Korosten, a city in the Zhytomyr district, about 80 km from Kiev. And she said to me: ‘Alright, I’ll go with you wherever you want, but my parents have to agree to this.’ When we went over to her parents, her father, a wise old man said this: ‘A wife’s place is by her husband’s side. If he wants to go back to his country, to rebuild his country, then you should go with him.’

My last job in Kiev was in the outpost of the Union of Polish Patriots 36. I took part in the repatriation of Poles from Ukraine; most of them were actually Poles who had been evacuated to Siberia, to the Ural. These people had often lived in terrible conditions.

Wanda Wasilewska made sure that before returning home they were given a chance to stand up on their own feet again, because they were physically exhausted. So they were placed near a sugar factory in Ukraine. The supplies were good over there, and they were receiving sugar in return for their work, so they could buy other products for the sugar. And slowly they did stand on their own feet. Then, and a bit later, when they had regained some strength, they were gradually repatriated.

  • After the War

After the war, in March 1946 I returned home from the Soviet Union. At the beginning I was in Lodz. There was nobody left from my closest family, and Bela, my fiancee was also gone. I was continually in touch with my uncle Adolf Fajner, the one who lived in Manchester. After the war he played the role of a link between the family members who were still alive.

Everyone would ask him to find out about the others. So he put me in touch with my uncle Samuel, my mother’s oldest brother. Uncle Adolf was also the one who told me that only two people survived, namely, the son and the daughter of my mother’s older sister, aunt Bela – Jerzy and Teofila Hershman. They were somewhere in camps in Germany, I am not sure exactly, and from Germany they went to the United States and settled in New York.

I met Teofila again some 50 years later, because in 1992 she came here and found me. I was also the guest of her daughter in 1998, and later in 2003 I came to visit them in America with my second wife.

Out of my mother’s family there was also Samuel Fajner, and his three sons, the one who had emigrated through Germany to the United States. Financially he was doing quite well: together with his friend Rogovy they were running this big construction company, which was well anchored in the market, and existed for many years.

All his sons were educated, and during the war between the USA and Japan they were all commanders of American sea units. They were captains of these small units and after the war they were decorated. The two older brothers were married, but the youngest one did not get married until 1955, and I even got an invitation to the wedding. But I was not able to go to the United States, so I sent my best wishes and this had to be all.

Oh yes, there is one more person I should tell about: Helena Eichner’s son, she was my mother’s sister – he also lived through the war. Karol Eichner. I found out he was alive from Adolf Fajner, the one in Manchester. Like many children with Jewish backgrounds, he ended up in the territory taken over by the Soviet Union, in an orphanage in Slonim [Belarus], I believe.

This orphanage was later evacuated to Central Asia, somewhere in Uzbekistan. And later, together with the Anders’ Army 37, he was evacuated further east, and then to India. Later he joined the army and fought in western Germany. He survived and found his way to Israel. He became a high rank military man, but decided not to continue his career in the army.

His name is still Eichner, if he is still alive, that is. And his Hebrew name is Amos. He lives in Tel Aviv. When my daughter, Zosia, was there, she met with him, but he was not very eager to be in touch with his old family. I am not sure why, but he gave them a rather chilly welcome.

 It’s true that out of the Imergluck family you could count those who survived on the fingers of your one hand. I told you there were four children left of Anna and Izydor Imergluck. And out of those four only Marysia Imergluck was left alive; I am not sure what her married name was. I met her near Walbrzych, where she lived, and later they emigrated to Israel, or perhaps to the United States via Israel, I do not know this exactly. Her husband was the director of a linen factory near Walbrzych.

There was also Staszek Imergluck, they were in Zlotousta in the Ural, but he died in exile... he worked in a copper mine. His wife, Anka, was alive and she returned to Cracow. Then out of the Cracow branch of the family there was also Zygmunt Minc, my father’s younger brother, and his wife Erna and their son Adam.

During the war he lived in Yoshkar-Ola, the capital of the Autonomous Republic Mari El. Later they settled in Bytom, and after that Adam came to Gliwice. We saw them after the war. There was one more of the Imergluck family, Wilhelm was his name, a lawyer who specialized in inheritance cases.

I met him in Lodz and later in Cracow, but I do not know what happened to him after that. Another one that survived was a daughter of my aunt Natalia, Nacia Imergluck, who lived in Cracow at number 8 Sebastiana Street.

This aunt Natalia, she had two daughters: Janka and Zosia. Zosia was the one who survived, she too had been in the Soviet Union, she married Walter Zybert and they had a son. They lived in Katowice. Her husband was from Bielsk.

Maria Minc was also alive, the wife of Bernard Minc, the doctor. She lived at 6 Kolberga Street in Cracow. When the war broke out, Bernard Minc had already retired, he left the city and he died in 1939, as early as September I think, in Mszana Dolna. She [the wife] had the body brought back, and had him buried in the Rakowiecki cemetery in Cracow.

I got in touch with her after the war. She was the one who was given all the family photos to keep through the war. Why her? Because, due to her birthplace – she was born in Austria – the Germans decided she was not a Volksdeutsch 38, but rather a Reichsdeutsche [A citizen of the German Reich]. And not only that. Because she was a qualified nurse, the Germans recruited her into the military, to the Wehrmacht. She got all the way to Kiev; she worked in one of the field hospitals in Kiev.

She kept helping her family and relatives, and if she could manage to help anyone else – she always did. In one of the first post-war rehabilitation trials she was immediately rehabilitated, and, moreover, her house was returned to her, and everything else, too. She was a wonderful human being. Later she made a living by knitting sweaters... She died at the turn of the 1950s and 60s.

When I realized that nobody had survived out of my closest family, I decided to go to Walbrzych, to Lower Silesia [Jews settling in Lower Silesia after World War II] 39. In Walbrzych I got registered at the Central Committee of Polish Jews 40 and they helped me a bit.

They would receive, for example, things from UNRRA 41, but as help for Jews, who had suffered during the war. So I would go over there from time to time. I was also accepted into the party [Polish Workers’ Party] 42, because I was a committed left-winger. 

The man who recommended me was Arnold Mostowicz 43. This was a pre-war communist and a friend of my brother’s [Wladek], who knew that he was a communist. I was also recommended by Kujawski, who worked in the ceramic industry union.                            

At first I was working at the Tilsch porcelain factory – it is called The Walbrzych Porcelain Factory nowadays. At the same time, I was active in the labor union. A few months later I was elected secretary of the board of the labor union section of construction industry materials, which included ceramics. Later I was elected as vice-president of the regional board in Wroclaw. And then I was picked for the national union secretary in the field of construction ceramics.

1948 was when I took my first vacation. It was also that summer that my first fiancee from before the war, I mean Bela, Izabela Handelsman, came to Poland, and showed up in Walbrzych. Prince Bernadotte [Count Folke Bernadotte (1895-1948): Vice-President of the Swedish Red Cross in 1945; attempted an armistice between Germany and the Allies. Just before the end of WWII he led a rescue operation transporting, first of all, but not exclusively, Danish and Norwegian inmates from Nazi concentration camps to Swedish hospitals. 27,000 people were liberated this way, many of them Jewish.] had rescued her out of Bergen-Belsen 44, where she had caught consumption.

The fact that she survived is probably due to her knowing German – and she was also a ‘dolmetscher.’ ‘Dolemetscher’ means translator. In the last years of the war she was shipped off to Sweden, where they cured her.

She returned to her older sister, who lived in Dzierzoniow, near Walbrzych. Bela had my address, she came to Walbrzych and found out that I had a wife and a child. But still, she was determined to see me. Our meeting was very tragic. We both cried. Fate had done it to us, she did not blame me at all, she knew I had not done anything wrong. My wife was very anxious what might come out of this. Later she told me so. But, you see, I told Bela right away: ‘I have brought my wife here, whom I love.

I never stopped loving you, obviously, but this is where things stand.’ Bela understood this and went back to her sister. Bela was even more involved in the left wing movement than I was. The shape of Poland at the time was very much to her liking.

This was the Poland she had dreamt about. But since her feelings for me had not died down, she was afraid she might cause some complications in my family life, because, after all, my wife was not to be blamed for all that happened.

We already had a child. In August 1946, as I told you, my first daughter, Anna, was born. So as a result of all the bitterness, and because of her fear that she would not be able to just watch all this calmly, Bela went back to Sweden, and stayed there for good.

We lived in Walbrzych until the end of 1948. In October 1948, at the National Convention of the Union of Construction of Ceramic Industry and Related Professions, I was elected secretary of the National Board – which meant we had to move to Warsaw. The first week I lived in Warsaw in a hotel. But apartments were already being prepared.

So I had a choice: we could get an apartment immediately in a very distant part of Zoliborz, basically in Bielany, or we could wait a bit for another apartment – in Mokotow, in the Warsaw Housing Co-operative, at Dabrowskiego Street.

I wanted my wife to decide. So I brought her here to come and explore, and decide which one she wants. My wife did not hesitate for a minute, she chose Mokotow, and said: ‘I can wait these few months.’ So in fact I brought my family here on 22nd January 1949. And this apartment I still have today.

I was in the Construction Union until 1950. In March 1949, he Union President and I went to Rome, as delegates to the meeting of the International Labor Organization of the Construction Commission. I spent over four weeks there. I was a guest of the Italian government, we were even invited to see the pope. It was Pius XII.

We decided to protest against his political attitude. He had a soft spot for the nazis, he had never said a word in defense of the Jews, and he did not officially acknowledge the fact that the Western Territories were now a part of Poland. [see Regained Lands] 45 So we did not go to see the pope. And it was not just us, the French delegation didn’t go either, and the Italians, too – it was an expression of protest.

There was one more interesting moment in my life – when I was leaving the Union [of Construction of Ceramic Industry and Related Professions] they wanted to send me off to Officers’ School, as a political employee of the military. But I refused.

The head of the Central Union Board, Aleksander Zawadzki, who was later the Head of the State Council [Rada Panstwa], spoke in my defense, and so I stayed on in the Union. In 1950 I moved to the Ministry of Light Industry, to the headquarters in charge of the whole ceramic industry. There I became the head of personnel and pay section. This ministry was later divided, but I stayed in my place – I was the head of my section, with responsibilities of vice-director of the department.

In the meantime, my wife learned to speak Polish beautifully. It was really important to her not to stand out, because people’s attitudes towards Russians varied a lot. She had completed a Ukrainian school, so she spoke both Russian and Ukrainian very well.

Besides, she was very hard-working, so she mastered Polish grammar, and she did exercises and she read in Polish a lot. If she came across a word she did not know, I would help her out. She was never annoyed when I corrected her mistakes, quite the opposite, she wanted to master the language as quickly as possible.

For a long time she did not work, she only had a job after 1960. We went to the Soviet Union a lot, because my wife had a huge family there. They would also come and visit us, but we went there every summer, to spend our vacation. Thanks to this, my children learned Russian perfectly.

In 1949, after my return from Rome, on 29th April, my son Wladyslaw was born, and my youngest daughter, Zofia, was born on 12th May 1953. We had three kids, so life became a bit more difficult. In any case, we had not intended to have three children, but the doctor advised my wife to have one more. So, naturally, we did not think about it too long, because nothing is more important than health, so despite all the difficulties we decided to have this third child.

We were living in Warsaw, and we had many friends, though not from Jewish circles any more – for the most part, our friends were our neighbors. In the ministry there was an engineer, his name was Szejwac, he became my superior later on. I was in charge of distribution of construction materials.

When the Palace of Culture [grandiose social-realist building in the center of Warsaw] was being built, all the materials passed through my hands. I had to prepare reports to my ministry concerning the influx of these materials. I was a highly valued employee. The minister would send me as his plenipotentiary to the cement factory Wierzbina, he even wanted to make me the director, but I said no out of consideration for my family.

I was very active and I devoted much time and energy to work for the party, which is why in 1958 they took me out of the regular party position and I began working in the Warsaw Committee of United Polish Workers’ Party [PZPR 46]. I became deputy head of the industry section, and I was very appreciated there.

Among other things, I was forced to get a telephone line at last. I did not want one, because I was constantly being asked to go to the ministry – in those days people worked like that, through the night. But once I had moved on to the PZPR, I had no choice any more, I had to say yes, and they gave me a phone line.

  • Recent Years

In 1960 the opportunity came up for me to enroll in the Advanced School of Social Science at the Central Committee of the PZPR, and finally complete my degree. The argument went like this: I was constantly teaching people, I was lecturing, but I had never had a chance to finish my own education because the War had interrupted my studies in Lwow.

They were also offering a fairly high scholarship, more or less the equivalent of my last salary. These were not high earnings, anyway, but at least they did not lower our standard of living. It was a shortened course of studies.

So I was accepted right off, no questions asked. In 1964 I completed this school. They directed me to work in the Central Committee, and I became a senior instructor in the department of Planning and Finances of the Central Committee.

For two more years I worked on my dissertation, and in 1966 I had a degree in economics. So at last I had completed my education. There was an additional factor that mobilized me to work hard and get good results – the fact that my children were already quite big.

It was my ambition to show them how good a student one can be. I had always said to them that the difference between how hard you have to study for a 4 [good] and how hard you study for a 5 [excellent] is not so great, really, so you should always aim for better results. Anyway, they admired my achievements very much. I don’t want this to sound like I am boasting, but the truth is that when I completed this school, I had gathered 133 points out of the 135 point maximum.

I haven’t told you yet about the final period of my professional life. I worked in the party apparatus until 1970. In 1970, in the fall, I moved to the Headquarters of the Polish National Bank, because I was, after all, an economist. When I was still in the Central Committee I was taking care of the Investment Bank.

Later the Investment Bank was made a part of the Polish National Bank. For 11 years I worked at the Polish National Bank. Poland was a member of the International Investment Bank in Moscow, and my job was to obtain loans for investments, which then served mostly Poland, but also other countries associated in the Council of Mutual Economic Assistance [Comecon] 47. I retired, when martial law was still in place [martial law in Poland in 1981–83], at the turn of 1981 and 1982.

My older daughter, Anna, studied Russian Philology, and she completed her coursework, but she never finished her dissertation. My son graduated from the Warsaw Polytechnic, the department of Machines and Vehicles, and my daughter Zofia completed the Warsaw Agricultural University (SGGW).

She always said to me: ‘Wladek (her older brother) is gifted, so school is easier for him.’ But I always said to him: ‘But you work harder than he does, and I am sure your grades will be no worse than his.’

She completed the school with honors. She did her degree and she is an engineer. Later she completed a post-graduate study in pedagogy at Warsaw University, and now she works at the Lauder Foundation 48 school in Warsaw. She is a librarian and works with children.

I have, unfortunately, little contact with my son, we disagree with each other on many issues. I am closest with my youngest daughter, Zofia, and her children. I will leave my apartment to her, this is quite clear.

My children have always basically known about their Jewish roots, but of course at home we spoke only Polish. They were raised to be Poles of Jewish descent, this is what they felt they were. 1968 [see Ati-Zionist campaign in Poland] 49 was a huge shock for my children.

They even pressured us to emigrate to Israel, but I resisted this idea. And later things calmed down somehow. I took many of my friends, unfortunately, to the train station. My former boss, whom I have mentioned, engineer Szejwac – he left for Israel in those days, and others, too, Korentajel, many, many people. I saw them off to the station with a heavy heart and with mixed feelings, but we decided to stay here.

My son had a Polish wife, and my daughter Zofia, also, she married a Pole – Andrzej Jankowski is also a Pole.

My youngest daughter, Zofia, has two children. The older one is called Marta Jankowska, and the younger one is Andrzej Jankowski – he was given the same name as his father. They feel a bit more tied to their Jewishness. Marta studied in Israel, at the Jerusalem University [Hebrew University]  English Department.

When the Intifada came, she had this incident happen to her, which really affected her psychologically. She was attacked and beaten up by Arabs. She was not in the army due to her studies, but she has double citizenship: Israeli and Polish. And she will continue her studies in London: in English and Hebrew.

My daughter’s younger son, Andrzej, was recently on a trip to Israel, when he came back he was very enthusiastic about what he saw. Now he is at the Sociology Department at Warsaw University, an evening student. My son Wladek got married in 1975 and he has a son named Michal. And my eldest daughter, Anna, has a son named Rafal. Rafal Minc.

He is studying and working in the United States. He had a scholarship, he completed a school over there, and now he continues his studies in the USA, somewhere near New York, in New Jersey. What the direction of his studies is, I don’t exactly know.

All I know is that he is still studying. Anna works part time, for a long while she used to do translations from Russian. She is not feeling very well these days. We help her out a bit. Rafal hopes that he will be able to take her over to the States, to stay with him. The future will show how things turn out.

Let me tell you a little bit more about my first wife – Maria. From 1963 on she worked in the Information Center of the Construction Department; she was a translator, because Russian was, after all, her native language, and she was also dealing with international relations.

She was very sickly, she was ill when we were still in Walbrzych, and later, when we were in Warsaw it returned. And so, because of her poor health, she had to stop working some time around 1973. We managed somehow, I put the kids through school, and I helped her as much as I could.

My wife and I, we shared the same views on how to raise children. But to say the truth, she was the one who bore the main burden of child-rearing, because I was so very active professionally. And later she became incapable of helping out, so things were... as they were. My wife died in 1976, in November. And I was left alone. It so happens that my second wife’s name is also Zofia, and we are together till this day.

It all began when my former wife was still alive. Zofia is quite simply a good human being. She believed it was my God-given duty to take care of Maria, who was ill and needed me. Anyway, I always said that I never stopped loving her, it just happened this way, she is not to blame for being ill. It was cyclical depression, and it was best to treat it in the hospital.

So Maria was in the hospital, and I was coming to visit her almost every day, and Zofia would sit on the bench in front of the hospital and wait. 

My children would have preferred, naturally, if this was not the case. But after their mother’s death, and after they themselves had experienced some hard times in their lives, they did understand their father. And their relations with my second wife are now very warm.

Zofia was born in 1942, so she is much younger than me, a whole 22 years. She is an accountant. At the beginning, when we first met, she was working at the Polish Association of Youth Shelters, and later she had a job at the Headquarters of the Union of Polish Teachers, as the deputy of the head accountant. At present she is retired, but she does accounting for various social organizations, making some extra money that way. This is why we can afford to travel abroad – because we have the means.

Why did my daughter and my grandchildren return to the Jewish tradition... It’s very hard to explain. Because, after all, she had a Polish man. But it just so happened that she spent a lot of time among people of Jewish descent, and somehow it all came back...

Then there is this other thing: the prejudice and resentment from the past towards Jews in Poland. You can’t generalize, you can’t say that everyone is like this. Most people are tolerant. But in various circumstances we encountered such unpleasantness.

And this experience caused them to turn towards Jewishness. Zosia [Zofia] started coming to the Jewish community Center, etc. And her children? The children followed their mother. And they did this despite their father’s advice, and especially in spite of his uncle in London, who really wanted them to be Catholic.

But this did not work out, and Marta said to him: ‘This is my choice and you must respect it. If you don’t like it, then I can stop all contacts with you.’ So it really is their choice.

I am not in touch with Jewish circles. I know all about my roots and would never deny them. I never concealed them. In 1968 there was no way I could agree with the position of the top people in the party, especially Gomulka, that to feel sympathy for Israel is the same as to be a Zionist, and so on. Nor did I like what happened later – throwing people out of the party. [Gomulka Campaign] 50.

I was working in the party apparatus, and it was taking a real risk, but still, I never condemned anyone for their choices, for their wish to go to Israel. I always said: ‘This is your autonomous choice.’ It was a terrible blow to me, that all these highly valued people, highly qualified, and, for the most part, very loyal to the People’s Poland, that these people were being insulted and forced to leave.

To me this was a terrifying experience. My choice in my youth had been different: I belonged to a Zionist organization, but then I decided that I ought to be even further to the left, and so I got out of it. And their choice was different.

I did not want to leave, and I still do not. There is this old saying: ‘you can’t  uproot an old tree.’ I don’t speak the language, and I would feel like a third class citizen there – not even second, but third class. I feel strong ties to Poland. Of course, I am very much intrigued, and we have thought of going there as tourists, my wife and I. But to go there and just see Israel is not enough.

One should also see the [Palestinian] Autonomy. Nowadays, there are even trips being organized, to Israel, but without  a visit to the Autonomy. And now we are waiting till things calm down a bit, there is already a light in the tunnel.

And as for Jewish organizations in Poland – I do not participate in those. It is true that my wife has no prejudice, but despite this I do not want to be the cause of trouble for her. There might be some hidden resentment, especially in her family. So I prefer not to tempt my luck.

  • Glossary

1 The Kingdom of Poland (other names: the Congress Kingdom, Congress Kingdom of Poland): founded in 1815 by a decision of the Congress of Vienna. It extended throughout the lands of the Kingdom of Warsaw with the exception of the Poznan and Bydgoszcz provinces and the city of Cracow. It had an area (until 1912) of 128,500 km2 and a population of 3.3m in 1816 and 10m in 1910.

The Kingdom of Poland was a monarchy linked by a personal union with Russia, with the tsar as king. It had a Polish Sejm (diet), government and army, but was not permitted to conduct its own foreign policy.

The constitution, though formally liberal, was systematically violated. The Kingdom of Poland was a center of the Polish liberation movement. In 1830 the November Uprising broke out; following its failure the Kingdom of Poland ceased to be a separate state and was henceforth to be an integral part of the Russian Empire.

After the January Uprising in 1863 the Kingdom was stripped of its separate identity altogether. In official documents the name ‘the Kingdom of Poland’ was replaced with the expression ‘the Country along the Vistula’. In the second half of the 19th century the country was subjected to intensive Russification.

In 1915 it was occupied by German and Austrian forces; the occupation lasted until November 1918. After 1918 the lands of the Kingdom of Poland became part of the independent Poland.

2 Social Democracy of the Kingdom of Poland and Lithuania (SDKPiL): workers’ party founded in 1893, active in the Kingdom of Poland and in the Bialystok region.

In 1895 it was shattered by arrests, and in 1899 rebuilt. It was a member of the 2nd Internationale (the radical wing). SDKPiL postulated the overthrow of the tsars and the introduction of a socialist system through a socialist revolution by the working class (it considered the peasantry reactionary), and offered a brotherly alliance between free peoples as the solution to the question of nationhood (it perceived no need or way to reinstate a sovereign Polish state).

During the 1905-07 revolution it initiated and organized strikes, rallies and demonstrations, and set up trade unions. During World War I it took up an anti-war stance, and in 1917 supported the revolution in Russia. The ideological leader of the SDKPiL was Rosa Luxemburg, and among the leading activists was Felix Dzierzynski. In December 1918 it fused with the left wing of the PPS (Polish Socialist Party) to form the KPRP (Communist Party of Poland).

3 1905 Russian Revolution: Erupted during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–05, and was sparked off by a massacre of St. Petersburg workers taking their petitions to the Tsar (Bloody Sunday). The massacre provoked disgust and protest strikes throughout the country: between January and March 1905 over 800,000 people participated in them.

Following Russia’s defeat in its war with Japan, armed insurrections broke out in the army and the navy (the most publicized in June 1905 aboard the battleship Potemkin). In 1906 a wave of pogroms swept through Russia, directed against Jews and Armenians.

The main unrest in 1906 (involving over a million people in the cities, some 2,600 villages and virtually the entire Baltic fleet and some of the land army) was incited by the dissolution of the First State Duma in July. The dissolution of the Second State Duma in June 1907 is considered the definitive end to the revolution.

4 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 Po’alei 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 World War II 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.

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 Mickiewicz, Adam (1798-1855): Often regarded as the greatest Polish poet. As a student he was arrested for nationalist activities by the tsarist police in 1823. In 1829 he managed to emigrate to France and worked as professor of literature at different universities.

During the 1848 revolution in France and the Crimean War he attempted to organize legions for the Polish cause. Mickiewicz’s poetry gave international stature to Polish literature. His powerful verse expressed a romantic view of the soul and the mysteries of life, often employing Polish folk themes.

7 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.

8 Keren Kayemet Leisrael (K.K.L.): Jewish National Fund (JNF) founded in 1901 at the Fifth Zionist Congress in Basel. From its inception, the JNF was charged with the task of fundraising in Jewish communities for the purpose of purchasing land in the Land of Israel to create a homeland for the Jewish people.

After 1948 the fund was used to improve and afforest the territories gained. Every Jewish family that wished to help the cause had a JNF money box, called the ‘blue box’. In Poland the JNF was active in two periods, 1919-1939 and 1945-1950. In preparing its colonization campaign, Keren Kayemet le-Israel collaborated with the Jewish Agency and Keren Hayesod.

9 Free City of Danzig: According to the Versailles Treaties the previously German Danzig was declared to be a free city under the mandate of the League of Nations in 1920; it did not belong to either Germany or Poland; however both countries had access to its port.

Danzig (and the surrounding area) had a population of approximately 367,000 people, mostly Germans; Poles made up about 10 percent of the inhabitants. The Polish government was represented in the FCD by the General Commissioner of the Republic of Poland.

Hitler’s demand (1939) for the city’s return to Germany was the principal immediate excuse for the German invasion of Poland and thus of World War II. Danzig was annexed to Germany from 1 September 1939, until its fall to the Soviet army in early 1945. The Allies returned the city to Poland, which was renamed Gdansk.

10 Chagall, Marc (1889-1985): Russian-born French painter. Since Marc Chagall survived two world wars and the Revolution of 1917 he increasingly introduced social and religious elements into his art.

11 Anti-Jewish Legislation in Poland: After World War I nationalist groupings in Poland lobbied for the introduction of the numerus clausus (Lat. closed number – a limit on the number of people admitted to the practice of a given profession or to an institution – a university, government office or association) in relation to Jews and other ethnic minorities.

The most radical groupings demanded the introduction of the numerus nullus principle, i.e. a total ban on admittance to universities and certain professions.

The numerus nullus principle was violated by the Polish constitution. The battle for its introduction continued throughout the interwar period. In practice the numerus clausus was applied informally. In 1938 it was indirectly introduced at the Bar.

12 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.

13 Habima

Hebrew theater founded in 1914, initially a touring troupe. From 1917 it was based in Moscow; later it made grand tours of Europe, and from 1926 it was based in Palestine.

14 Der Dibuk (The Dybbuk, 1937): The play was written during the turbulent years of 1912-1917; Polish director Waszynski's 1937 film was made during another period of pre-war unease. It was shot on location in rural Poland, and captures a rich folk heritage.

Considered by some to be the greatest of Yiddish films, it was certainly the boldest undertaking, requiring special sets and unusual lighting. In Der Dibuk, the past has a magnetic pull on the present, and the dead are as alluring as the living. Jewish mysticism links with expressionism, and as in Nosferatu, man is an insubstantial presence in the cinematic ether.

15 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.

16 Rubinstein, Arthur (1887-1982): American pianist of Jewish origin, born in Lodz, Poland and studied in Warsaw and Berlin, making his debut in 1900 with the Berlin Symphony Orchestra. He is best known for his performances of Chopin and his championing of Spanish music.

He emigrated to the US, made his debut at Carnegie Hall in 1906 and in London in 1912. He retired from stage in 1976. (sources: http://www.encyclopedia.com/html/r/rubinsta1r.asp and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artur_Rubinstein)

17 Szyk, Arthur (18941951): Polish Jewish charicaturist and painter, famous for his anti-Axis political illustrations and cartoons during World War II. He was born in Lodz and studied art in Paris and Cracow. In 1919-1920 during the Polish-Soviet war, he served as artistic director of the Department of Propaganda for Polish army in Lodz.

In 1921, he moved to Paris. In 1934, Szyk exhibited his works in the United States, including an exhibition of his George WashingtonAmerican Revolution series at the Library of Congress.

After a period of residence in England, in 1940 he immigrated to the United States (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Szyk)

18 Tuwim, Julian (1894-1953): Poet and translator; wrote in Polish. He was born in Lodz into an assimilated family from Lithuania. He studied law and philosophy at Warsaw University. He was a leading representative of the Skamander group of poets. His early work combined elements of Futurism and Expressionism (e.g. Czychanie na Boga [Lying in wait for God], 1918). In the 1920s his poetry took a turn towards lyrism (e.g. Slowa we krwi [Words in blood], 1926).

In the 1930s under the influence of the rise in nationalistic tendencies in Poland his work took on the form of satire and political grotesque (Bal w operze [A ball at the opera], 1936). He also published works for children.

A separate area of his writings are cabarets, libretti, sketches and monologues. He spent WWII in emigration and made public appearances in which he relayed information on the fate of the Polish population of Poland and the rest of Europe.

In 1944 he published an extended poem, ‘My Zydzi polscy’ [We Polish Jews], which was a manifesto of his complicated Polish-Jewish identity. After the war he returned to Poland but wrote little. He was the chairman of the Society of Friends of the Hebrew University and the Committee for Polish-Israeli Friendship.

19 Communist Union of Polish Youth (KZMP): until 1930 the Union of Communist Youth in Poland. Founded in March 1922 as a branch of the Communist Youth International. From the end of 1923 its structure included also the Communist Youth Union of Western Belarus and the Communist Youth Union of Western Ukraine (as autonomous regional organizations). Its activities included politics, culture and education, and sport.

In 1936 it initiated the publication of a Declaration of the rights of the young generation in Poland (whose postulates included an equal start in life for all, democratic rights, and the guarantee of work, peace and universal education).

The salient activists in the organization included B. Berman, A. Kowalski, A. Lampe, A. Lipski. In 1933 the organization had some 15,000 members, many of whom were Jews and peasants. The KZMP was disbanded in 1938.

20 Communist Party of Poland (KPP): created in December 1918 in Warsaw, its aim was to create a global or pan-European federal socialist state, and it fought against the rebirth of the Polish state.

Between 1921 and 1923 it propagated slogans advocating a two-stage revolution (the bourgeois-democratic revolution and the socialist revolution), the reinforcement of Poland’s sovereignty, the right to self-determination of the ethnic minorities living within the II Republic of Poland, and worker and peasant government of the country. After 1924, as in the rest of the international communist movement, ultra-revolutionary tendencies developed. 

From 1929 the KPP held the stance that the conditions were right for the creation by revolution of a Polish Republic of Soviets with a system based on the Soviet model, and advocated ‘social fascism’ and ‘peasant fascism’.

In 1935 on the initiative of Stalin, the KPP wrought further changes in its program (recognizing the existence of the II Polish Republic and its political system). In 1919 the KPP numbered some 7,000-8,000 members, and in 1934 around 10,000 (37 percent peasants), with a majority of Jews, Belarus and Ukrainians.

In 1937 Stalin took the decision to liquidate the KPP; the majority of its leaders were arrested and executed in the USSR, and in 1939 the party was finally liquidated on the charge that it had been taken over by provocateurs and spies.

21 Spanish Civil War (1936-39): A civil war in Spain, which lasted from July 1936 to April 1939, between rebels known as Nacionales and the Spanish Republican government and its supporters. The leftist government of the Spanish Republic was besieged by nationalist forces headed by General Franco, who was backed by Nazi Germany and fascist Italy.

Though it had Spanish nationalist ideals as the central cause, the war was closely watched around the world mainly as the first major military contest between left-wing forces and the increasingly powerful and heavily armed fascists.

The number of people killed in the war has been long disputed ranging between 500,000 and a million.

22 Hashomer Hatzair in Poland: From 1918 Hashomer Hatzair operated throughout Poland, with its headquarters in Warsaw. It emphasized the ideological and vocational training of future settlers in Palestine and personal development in groups. Its main aim was the creation of a socialist Jewish state in Palestine.

Initially it was under the influence of the Zionist Organization in Poland, of which it was an autonomous part. In the mid-1920s it broke away and joined the newly established World Scouting Union, Hashomer Hatzair.

In 1931 it had 22,000 members in Poland organized in 262 ‘nests’ (Heb. ‘ken’). During the occupation it conducted clandestine operations in most ghettos. One of its members was Mordechaj Anielewicz, who led the rising in the Warsaw ghetto. After the war it operated legally in Poland as a party, part of the He Halutz. It was disbanded by the communist authorities in 1949.

23 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.

24 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 Wawel Cathedral in the Royal Castle in Cracow.

25 Jagiellonian University – the second university to be set up in Central Europe, after Prague University. Founded in 1364 by King Casimir the Great in Cracow, then the capital of the Kingdom of Poland. Its most famous alumnus is Nicholas Copernicus. The UJ has maintain high standards of learning for over 600 years.

26 September Campaign 1939: armed struggle in defense of Poland’s independence from 1st September to 6th October 1939 against German and, from 17 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 Narwa, 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 14-16 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 22 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 Narwa-Bug-Vistula-San line.

In the night of 17-18 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.

27 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 Ukranian and the Belarusian Soviet Republics.

28 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.                                                                                                                                          

29 Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists, OUN: (Orhanizatsiya Ukrainskykh Natsionalistiv) Ukrainian political movement, seeking the establishment of an independent Ukraine, it was created in 1929 by the merging of several emigre Ukrainian nationalist organizations in Poland.

In 1940 the organization split into the Banderists and the Melnykovists. The Malnykovists collaborated with the Nazis and created Ukrainian military divisions within the German army (SS Galicia Division). The Banderists created the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA). They continued their struggle agains the Soviets and were destroyed by the late 1940s.  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Organization_of_Ukrainian_Nationalists)

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

31 Treblinka: village in Poland’s Mazovia region, site of two camps. The first was a penal labor camp, established in 1941 and operating until 1944. The second, known as Treblinka II, functioned in the period 1942-43 and was a death camp. Prisoners in the former worked in Treblinka II.

In the second camp a ramp and a mock-up of a railway station were built, which prevented the victims from realizing what awaited them until just in front of the entrance to the gas chamber. The camp covered an area of 13.5 hectares.

It was bounded by a 3-m high barbed wire fence interwoven densely with pine branches to screen what was going on inside. The whole process of exterminating a transport from arrival in the camp to removal of the corpses from the gas chamber took around 2 hours.

Several transports arrived daily. In the 13 months of the extermination camp’s existence the Germans gassed some 750,000-800,000 Jews. Those taken to Treblinka included Warsaw Jews during the Grossaktion [great liquidation campaign] in the Warsaw ghetto in the summer of 1942.

As well as Polish Jews, Jews from Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, France, Greece, Yugoslavia and the USSR were also killed in Treblinka. In the spring of 1943 the Germans gradually began to liquidate the camp. On 2 August 1943 an uprising broke out there with the aim of enabling some 200 people to escape. The majority died.

32 Wasilewska, Wanda (1905-64): From 1934-37 she was a member of the Supreme Council of the Polish Socialist Party (PPS). In 1940 she became a deputy to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR. From 1941-43 she was a political commissary in the Red Army and editor of ‘Nowe Widnokregi’.

In 1943 she helped to organize the Union of Polish Patriots and the Polish armed forces in the USSR. In 1944 she became a member of the Central Bureau of Polish Communists in the USSR and vice-chairperson of the Polish Committee for National Liberation.

After the war she remained in the USSR. Author of the social propaganda novels ‘Oblicze Dnia’ (The Face of the Day, 1934), ‘Ojczyzna’ (Fatherland, 1935) and ‘Ziemia w Jarzmie’ (Earth under the Yoke, 1938), and the war novel ‘Tecza’ (Rainbow, 1944)

33 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.

34 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.

35 The 1st Kosciuszko Infantry Division: tactical grouping formed in the USSR from May 1943. The victory at Stalingrad and the gradual assumption of the strategic initiative by the Red Army strengthened Stalin’s position in the anti-fascist coalition and enabled him to exert increasing influence on the issue of Poland.

In April 1943, following the public announcement by the Germans of their discovery of mass graves at Katyn, Stalin broke off diplomatic relations with the Polish government in exile and using the poles in the USSR, began openly to build up a political base (the Union of Polish Patriots) and an army: the 1st Kosciuszko Infantry Division numbered some 11,000 soldiers and was commanded first by General Zygmunt Berling (1943-44), and subsequently by the Soviet General Bewziuk (1944-45). In August 1943 the division was incorporated into the 1st Corps of the Polish Armed Forces in the USSR, and from March 1944 was part of the Polish Army in the USSR.

The 1st Division fought at Lenino on 12-13 October 1943, and in Praga in September 1944. In January 1945 it marched into Warsaw, and in April-May 1945 it took part in the capture of Berlin. After the war it became part of the Polish Army.

36 Union of Polish Patriots (ZPP): Political organization founded in March 1943 by Polish communists in the USSR. It served Stalin’s policy with regard to the Polish question. The ZPP drew up the terms on which the communists took power in post-war Poland.

It developed its range of activities more fully after the Soviet authorities broke off diplomatic contact with the government of the Republic of Poland in exile (Apr. 1943). The upper ranks of the ZPP were dominated by communists (from Jan. 1944 concentrated in the Central Bureau of Polish Communists), who did not reveal the organization’s long-term aims.

The ZPP propagated slogans such as armed combat against the Germans, alliance with the USSR, parliamentary democracy and moderate social and economic reforms in post-war Poland, and redefinition of Poland’s eastern border.

It considered the ruling bodies of the Republic of Poland in exile to be illegal. It conducted propaganda campaigns (its press organ was called ‘Wolna Polska’ - Free Poland), and organized community care and education and cultural activities. From May 1943 it co-operated in the organization of the First Kosciuszko Infantry Division, and later the Polish Army in the USSR (1944).

In July 1944, the ZPP was formally subordinated to the National Council and participated in the formation of the Polish Committee for National Liberation. From 1944-46, the ZPP resettled Poles and Jews from the USSR to Poland. It was dissolved in August 1946.

37 Anders’ Army: The Polish Armed Forces in the USSR, subsequently the Polish Army in the East, known as Anders’ Army: an operations unit of the Polish Armed Forces formed pursuant to the Polish-Soviet Pact of 30 July 1941 and the military agreement of 14 July 1941.

It comprised Polish citizens who had been deported into the heart of the USSR: soldiers imprisoned in 1939-41 and civilians amnestied in 1941 (some 1.25-1.6m people, including a recruitment base of 100,000-150,000).

The commander-in-chief of the Polish Armed Forces in the USSR was General Wladyslaw Anders. The army never reached its full quota (in February 1942 it numbered 48,000, and in March 1942 around 66,000).

In terms of operations it was answerable to the Supreme Command of the Red Army, and in terms of organization and personnel to the Supreme Commander, General Wladyslaw Sikorski and the Polish government in exile. In March-April 1942 part of the Army (with Stalin’s consent) was sent to Iran (33,000 soldiers and approx. 10,000 civilians).

The final evacuation took place in August-September 1942 pursuant to Soviet-British agreements concluded in July 1942 (it was the aim of General Anders and the British powers to withdraw Polish forces from the USSR); some 114,000 people, including 25,000 civilians (over 13,000 children) left the Soviet Union. The units that had been evacuated were merged with the Polish Army in the Middle East to form the Polish Army in the East, commanded by Anders.

38 Volksdeutscher: In Poland a person who was entered (usually voluntarily, more rarely compulsorily) on a list of people of ethnic German origin during the German occupation was called Volksdeutscher and had various privileges in the occupied territories.

39 Jews settling in Lower Silesia after World War II: The Jews of the German province of Silesia either emigrated or were killed during the Nazi regime. In 1939 there were 15,480 Jews living in the region, most of whom perished during the war.

A new influx of Jews began in 1945 after the region was incorporated into Poland. Of the 52,000 or so Jews that arrived there (mostly from Eastern Poland incorporated into the Soviet Union), 10,000 settled in Wroclaw (Breslau), others moved mainly to Legnica (Liegnitz), Dzierzoniow (Reichenbach) and Walbrzych (Waldenburg).

40 Central Committee of Polish Jews

It was founded in 1944, with the aim of representing Jews in dealings with the state authorities and organizing and co-coordinating aid and community care for Holocaust survivors. Initially it operated from Lublin as part of the Polish Committee of National Liberation.

The CCPJ’s activities were subsidized by the Joint, and in time began to cover all areas of the reviving Jewish life. In 1950 the CCPJ merged with the Jewish Cultural Society to form the Social and Cultural Society of Polish Jews.

41 UNRRA: United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration. It was founded in 1943 to give aid to countries liberated from the Axis powers. There were finally 52 participating countries, each of which contributed funds amounting to 2% of its national income.

A sum of nearly $4 billion was expended on various types of emergency aid, including distribution of food and medicine and restoration of public services and of agriculture and industry. China, Czechoslovakia, Greece, Italy, Poland, the Ukraine (USSR), and Yugoslavia were the chief beneficiaries.

UNRRA returned some 7 million displaced persons to their countries of origin and provided camps for about 1 million refugees unwilling to be repatriated. UNRRA discontinued its operations in Europe in 1947.

42 Polish Workers’ Party (PPR): a communist party formed in January 1942 by a merger of Polish communist groups and organizations following the infiltration of an initiative cell from the USSR. The PPR was not formally part of the Communist Internationale, although in fact was subordinate to it. In its program declarations the PPR’s slogans included full armed combat to liberate the country from the German occupation, the restoration of an independent, democratic Polish state with new eastern borders, alliance with the USSR, and moderate socio-economic reform.

In 1942 the PPR had a few thousand members, but by 1944 its ranks had swelled to some 20,000. In 1942 it spawned an armed organization, the People’s Guard (renamed the People’s Army in 1944).

After the Red Army invaded Poland the PPR took power and set about creating a political system in which it had the dominant position. The PPR pacified society, terrorized the political opposition and suppressed underground organizations fighting for independence using instruments of organized violence. It was supported by USSR state security organizations operating in Poland (including the NKVD).

After its consolidation of power in 1947-48 the leadership of the PPR set about radical political and socio-economic transformations based on Soviet models, including the liquidation of private ownership, the nationalization of the economy (the collectivization of agriculture), and the subordination of all institutions and community organizations to the communist party.

In December 1948 the party numbered over a million members. After merging with the Polish Socialist Party it changed its name to the Polish United Workers’ Party.

43 Mostowicz, Arnold (1914-2002): writer and cultural activist. Born in Lodz into a Jewish family; his father was an industrialist but also a cultural activist and theater director. Mostowicz studied medicine in Toulouse, and returned to Poland shortly before the outbreak of World War II.

He worked in the Lodz ghetto as a doctor. He was imprisoned in Auschwitz. He did not return to medicine after the war, turning instead to writing. He wrote science fiction novels and popular science books. He was also a journalist and publicist. He is the author of the novel ‘The Ballad of Blind Max’, and the volume ‘Lodz My Forbidden Love’, in which he revealed his ties with his native city. He was the president of the Monumentum Iudaicum Lodzense Foundation.

44 Bergen-Belsen: Concentration camp, located between Hannover and Hamburg, in Lower-Saxony, Germany. It was built between the villages of Bergen and Belsen in 1940, hence the name. Innitially it was a POW camp for French and Belgian captives and in 1941 about 20,000 Soviet prisoners were transported there too.

In 1943 it was turned to a concentration camp where Jews of foreign citizenship were kept, to be exchanged for German nationals imprisoned abroad. Very few of such trades were in fact made and as a result about 200 Jews were allowed to emigrate to Palestine and  about 1500 Hungarian Jews to Switzerland.

The camp was divided to eight sections: a detention camp, two women’s camps, a special camp, neutrals camps, ‘star’ camp (mainly Dutch prisoners who wore a Star of David on their clothing instead of the camp uniform), Hungarian camp and a tent camp. It was designed to hold 10,000 prisoners, however, by the war’s end more than 60,000 prisoners were detained there, due to the large numbers of evacuees from Auschwitz and other camps from the East reaching Bergen-Belsen in death-marches.

The facilites in the camp were unable to accommodate the sudden influx of thousands of prisoners and all basic services - food, water and sanitation - collapsed, leading to the outbreak of disease. While Bergen-Belsen contained no gas chambers, more than 35,000 people died of starvation, overwork, disease, brutality and sadistic medical experiments.

By April 1945, more than 60,000 prisoners were incarcerated in the two camps located 1.5 miles apart. The camp was liberated by the British on April 15th 1945. As the first major camp to be liberated, the event received a lot of press coverage. Sixty-thousand prisoners were present at the time of liberation. Afterward, about 500 people died daily of starvation and typhus, reaching nearly 14,000. (http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Holocaust/Belsen.html)

45 Regained Lands: term describing the eastern parts of Germany (Silesia, Pomerania, Eastern Prussia, etc.) annexed to Poland after World War II, following the Teheran and Yalta agreements between the allies. After 1945 Germans were expelled from the area, and Poles (as well as Jews to some extent) from the former Polish lands annexed to the Soviet Union in 1939 were settled in their place.

A Polonization campaign was also waged - place names were altered, Protestant cemeteries were destroyed, etc. The Society for the Development of the Western Lands (TRZZ), founded in 1957, organized propaganda campaigns justifying the right of the Polish state to the territories, popularizing the social, economic and cultural transformations, and advocating integration with the rest of the country.

46 Polish United Workers’ Party (PZPR): communist party formed in Poland in December 1948 by the fusion of the PPR (Polish Workers’ Party) and the PPS (Polish Socialist Party). Until 1989 it was the only party in the country; it held power, but was subordinate to the Soviet Union. After losing the elections in June 1989 it lost its monopoly. On 29th January 1990 the party was dissolved.

47 Comecon: Council for Mutual Economic Assistance. Inspired by the American Marshall Plan (refused by the communist countries) Comecon was created to link the economies of the Eastern Block countries with the Soviet Union as well as with each other. It was founded in Moscow in 1949 by the Soviet Union, Albania, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Poland and Romania and joined later by East Germany (1950), Mongolia (1962), Cuba (1972) and Vietnam (1978). Yugoslavia was an associated member and Albania discontinued its membership in 1961.

Comecon was an organization to arrange trade within the communist block without market and also greatly limited trade with economies outside the organization. Each national economy specialized on a number of products that were exchanged in kind between the member states.

For example the USSR supplied its Eastern European satelites with oil and gas (pipe lines were built to East Germany via Poland and Hungary via Czechoslovakia and extended further south to Yugoslavia) while cars were produced in Czechoslovakia, Poland, East Germany and Romania, buses in Hungary, trucks in Poland, East Germany and the USSR. The main agricultural suppliers were Poland, Hungary and Bulgaria.

In Easter Europe Comecon was generally understood to be more beneficial to the USSR than the other member states and a way of explotation of the more advanced economies. After the fall of communism it was finally agreed to be disbanded in January 1991. (sources: http://www.tiscali.co.uk/reference/encyclopaedia/hutchinson/m0006083.html, http://www.angelfire.com/mac/egmatthews/worldinfo/glossary/cOMECON.html)

48 Lauder foundation: The Ronald S. Lauder Foundation was established in 1987 in New York by its president, the prominent philanthropist Ronald S. Lauder, to help the Jewish communities of Central and Eastern Europe. The Foundation is committed to rebuilding Jewish life in that part of Europe where the destruction of the Holocaust was followed by the oppression of Communist rule.

The Foundation sponsors Jewish educational institutions in terms of reviving the Jewish traditions. Today, the Ronald S. Lauder Foundation operates and/or supports 62 programs spread throughout a network of 15 countries: Austria, Belarus, Bulgaria, the Czech Republic, Estonia, Germany, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Moldova, Poland, Romania, Russia, Slovakia and the Ukraine.

49 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.

50 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. 

Anna Mass

Anna Mass
City: Warsaw
Country: Poland
Date of interview: November 2005
Interviewer: Magda Cobel-Tokarska

Mrs. Mass is a wonderful old lady, charming, cheerful and witty. She lives alone in Warsaw.

Following her husband’s death, she has developed an interest in alternative medicine, parapsychology and astrology.

She keeps learning new things. I was entranced by her fascinating stories, interwoven with numerous digressions.

Her story is like herself – full of humor, irony, and tenderness.


My family history   

Ab ovo? Where was I when I wasn’t there? I know little about my paternal family.

My father’s name was Szwarc. Jankiel. Everyone called him Jakub, the Polish version of his name. Interestingly, my grandmother, my father’s mother, was also nee Szwarc. Her first name was Ita.

My father was born in 1893, 13th March. In the 1890s there was flu pandemic. His father died, leaving his mother a widow. My father was born in Przedborz [ca. 130 km south of Warsaw], that’s near Piotrkow Trybunalski.

He was raised by his grandparents, because his mother was busy working as a teacher. But I think it was in a Jewish school because I can’t imagine she could have been working in a Polish one.

My father was brought up in an orthodox home because his grandparents, as was standard those days, were religious. From age of 3 years old he went to the cheder. Then to a yeshiva in Przedborz.

Also he told me that if, on his way home in the winter, he wanted to go sliding on the Pilica, his grandfather would grab him by the ear and say, ‘You shaigetz, you hoodlum, there’s no ice-sliding for you!’ His job was to pore over the Torah and learn, nothing more. A little kid! I know that by the age of 16 he was already a practicing watchmaker.

I didn’t know my father’s grandparents, the age difference was too great. My grandmother Ita, this is his mother, I saw only once, just one time. It was such a long way from Piotrkow to Lublin that visiting each other was out of the question [ca. 200 km].

So my father wrote his mother, she wrote him, and that was it in terms of staying in touch. It was only one time, so it happened that I was down with scarlet fever, that Grandmother Ita came to visit us. There was an orange on my bedside table. And I remember she said, ‘I don’t like oranges.’

As if it was for her. During that stay, Grandmother used an old dress to make a beautiful, huge woolen scarf for my mother. A brick-red one. (That scarf would later prove of service to me in the Soviet Union). I was 6 then and thanks to Grandmother I learned to crochet.

At first I only managed doll hats because instead of adding line so that it was flat, I went round and round in circles. Then I finally caught on and by the age of 10 I was dressing the whole family in sweaters.

As far as my maternal family is concerned, I know a little bit more. My mother was nee Rot, no ‘h’ at the end, just like that. Her grandparents were well off, owned a tenement house.

Because Jews aren’t allowed to turn on the lights on Saturday, if my grand-grandfather, whom I never met, my grandmother’s father, wanted [to turn on the lights], he invited the caretaker for a glass of vodka.

The caretaker knew, came, turned on the light – you had to have light to drink the vodka, didn’t you? If he was mean, he turned it off when leaving. And returned like that several times until he drank enough, then he left it on.

My grandmother, Perla Kac nee Rot, had two brothers. She was married at the age of 15 to a boy not much older than her who knew the whole Talmud very well, but I don’t think ever had any job in his life.

Before getting married, my grandmother had such beautiful hair that the caretaker’s wife came to comb her. Braids to the very ground. She cut her hair before the wedding and made three sheytls with them, for wearing in turns. A married orthodox Jewess couldn’t go around with her head bare.

Grandmother Perla received a dowry and the couple’s parents decided they would live ‘one year with us, another year with you,’ as was the standard those days if the bride and groom were young.

I remember my grandmother told me on the first day after getting married they simply sat on the floor and played gite. The stone game. That’s the mature married couple they were. Eventually, however, they picked the apple from the tree of knowledge and my grandmother had ten children.

Not every year but, let’s say, every two years, because as long as she breastfed, she didn’t get pregnant. And when she had the tenth child on her lap, her husband died of tuberculosis. He developed it while poring over the Talmud.

Grandmother’s brothers had all married by then and squandered their money. On cards, things like that. So, Grandmother told me, not only was she left with a child number ten in her lap, she also had her mother to feed, because where was the old lady supposed to go?

Grandmother wasn’t lucky as far as her children were concerned. Two died at young age, my mother Sara was the third from the end, it is the eighth child. My mother had one sister and besides her only brothers.

Unfortunately,  I don’t know, I don’t remember their names. My mother’s sister got married. Grandmother married her off to a wealthy widower, she didn’t want to, she was unhappy, but those days they didn’t care whether the girl liked the match or not.

She’ll be well off, she’ll have everything, won’t live in poverty. She gave birth to a son and on Yom Kippur – well, it’s autumn, cold – she went to the synagogue barefoot, caught a cold and died. All of her brothers died at the age of 15, 16. One was 18, had a wife, and a baby on its way. So in the end of the whole ten only my mother was left.

We were Grandmother’s most beloved part of the family, she lived with us in Lublin. She loved my father like her own son. And she was really very good. She remained active until the very end. She was 90 when the war broke out [in 1939].

She was selling newspapers on the street, in Lublin at Lubartowska, but not in a booth. She had a place on the sidewalk, and the newspapers lay on a special rack. During winter time, she was keeping a bucket with hot coals between her legs to warm herself up.

Whether she was murdered by the Nazis or died of old age, I don’t know. I know that throughout her life she was a very cheerful person. She was religious, but didn’t force religion upon us. Which didn’t prevent her from saying things like, ‘How good God doesn’t live on earth.

If he did, people would have long smashed all the windows in His house. They’d be taking revenge for everything.’ I’m old myself today but I’ve taken it to heart what she used to say. ‘Don’t curse, curses create a bridge. Whom they leave they return to. He who curses is cursed himself.’ And I never went beyond ‘Oh brother!’ I haven’t learned to curse to this day.

My mother… well. She was 9 when she had to go to work. So she got a job at a stockings factory. Unfortunately, I know nothing more about the place. There obviously was some progress because I went to work when I was 13.

So that was a bit later. Always when there was poverty at home or something, my mother went to the factory, took the yarn, she had a machine at home for making socks, and made some extra money that way.

How did my father meet my mother? Father went from village to village and earned his living by repairing clocks and watches. And, traveling so, he ended up in Lublin, where he met my mother. He fell in love, and he was very shy.

My mother was about 27, he was 24. He was still a young boy, and it was my mother who finally told him it was necessary to decide: this way or that way. So he, of course, agreed to marry her.

Mother and Grandmother lived in a small apartment at the time, and a month before the wedding someone broke into it, but he stole nothing.

Those days, when a girl reached a certain age, she automatically started preparing her trousseau, just in case. And my mother did too. When she saw there had been a break-in but nothing was stolen, she was afraid to leave the place unattended at all.

But once, just one time, she allowed my father to convince her to go out somewhere. And when she returned, there was nothing. Nothing! Not even the matches. Everything had been stolen.

She wanted to postpone the wedding, because, well, she had nothing but the clothes she wore. Bit my father disagreed, said, ‘What it’s going to be it’s going to be,’ and they got married.

But the best thing was that my father’s last name was Szwarc, and my [maternal] grandmother’s married name was Kac. So my mother was nee Kac. Szwarc Kac is ‘black cat.’ So when they went somewhere together, people called, ‘The black cat is here!’ They even called me ‘Blacky’ at school.

My father had dark hair, and my mother’s hair was so dark her neighbor called her ‘Ms. Navy Blue.’ Because her hair was so black it was almost navy blue. My father started turning gray very early on, and my mother, when she was already around 50, had one white streak that she could comb back and hide it from sight. She never wore a wig.

  • Growing up

My sister Elka was born 18th May 1919 and was a small baby when the war started in 1920 [Polish – Bolshevik war]. My mother told me that she had nothing to eat, so she gave the baby water to drink because she had no milk.

My sister suffered from serious stomach problems. Then I was born. It was on 23th May 1921. Mother had the two of us and, to say the truth, she was happy. Because there would have arisen the problem of circumcision had she had a boy.

My father, as I said, was a watchmaker. At first he went from village to village to earn money, then he set up a small shop where he worked. It was at Pijarska Street in Lublin. As we always barely made the ends meet, if we bought something, it was on credit.

Those bills of exchange had to be eventually repaid, and there was always some hectic searching for the money. In the summer, my father always went to Kazimierz [resort town on the Vistula, some 100 km south of Warsaw], there was work there. People dropped their watches into water, into sand, you had to clean them.

And that’s why Kazimierz is like a second home town for me. I always spent the whole summer there. After I had gone to work, I took a free leave in the summer and was able to spend two months in Kazimierz.

Mother went with us, chiefly because of me, because I was very sickly. She was always worried I’d stop eating in Kazimierz and get even thinner.  And I hated the beach, to this day I don’t like baking in the sun. In the water I felt cold, on the beach I felt hot, I lost my appetite. My mother could sit on the beach for hours, she loved the sun.

Kazimierz was also a Jewish town. It was inhabited almost solely by Jews. There were some Poles there, but those were rather the peasants from the nearby villages. The soil there was excellent. But I saw how the peasants lived.

The peasant ate a chicken only when he was dying or when the chicken died, if he slaughtered a pig, he salted the meat and stashed it away in a barrel for winter, for Christmas. Normally they ate fatback. Or used the blood to make blood sausage. The peasants were poor.

There was a family that went by the name of Gorecki there, the grandmother was a converted Jewess – she fell in love, married a Pole. And the whole family had the characteristic looks – black hair and blue eyes.

We lived with her in the summer. I was very bold – perhaps too bold – and one day I asked her whether she didn’t regret having changed her religion, living among the Poles. And she told me, ‘Well, you know, my child, yes and no.’

Because the issue looked like that: there was that writer, Leo Belmont [born Leopold Blumental, 1865-1941, writer, translator, lawyer, founder of the Polish Esperanto Society]. I remember a preface to a book where he wrote that after he converted to Catholicism, he lost friends among Jews but didn’t gain any among the Poles.

For the Poles, he was forever a Jew, and for the Jews he was a convert. And, interestingly, I was from a non-religious home but I also believed it was a transgression. You were born that way, you should stay that way. Why change your religion?

Though Jewish, Kazimierz was a clean town. There was a disastrous flood in 1933. And the market square, which is far above the Vistula level, was all flooded. I’ve never learned to swim.

My father swam quite well. When a child, he lived on the Pilica river, when he was 2 or 3 he played with kids, they used to push each other into water near the mill, he had to learn to swim if he didn’t want to drown. But I was afraid to, I had seen too many drowning swimmers.

The swimming suits of the era were the suspended, tricot kind of ones. You didn’t wear what you wear today – bikini, or even topless. Here, breasts and stomach, everything had to be covered, even though I was flat as a board. There were boats, kayaks… Even though I couldn’t swim, I liked the boats very much. And, strangely, I wasn’t afraid.

In Kazimierz I saw for the first time how they made the so called eiruv. Those days, a religious Jewess couldn’t even pick her purse up on the Sabbath because that would have amounted to working. So you cheated God.

You surrounded an area with a fence and led God to believe, as if He could believe that, that it was a living quarters, so you could carry things there. And I saw it for the first time in Kazimierz how they surrounded the downtown, where the synagogue was located, with a wire fence so that you could go to synagogue carrying a purse or a prayer book.

For me, that was a new thing, because I saw nothing of that Lublin, living in the Polish quarter, playing with Polish girls at school.

The Saski Garden in Lublin… It certainly wasn’t smaller than the Lazienki in Warsaw. In the summer there was always a military band on Sundays, a concert bowl, you could listen to concerts. In the winter there were toboggan runs. Huge ones. You could really go far…

Before the war, the garden was open until dusk. Then a janitor went around with a clapper, announcing it was time to leave. And everyone went, they closed for the night. If someone uttered a profanity on the street or dropped a cigarette butt, a policeman would spring up out of nowhere and you had to pay two zlotys. A fine.

The Jewish quarter was down Swietoduska to Lubartowska and the surrounding area. And the Poles who lived there spoke fluent Yiddish. They played with Jewish kids from early childhood. I always laughed that a Jewish Friday smelled of kerosene and cake. Kerosene, because you washed children’s hair and rinsed it with kerosene, which allegedly prevented lice. I also had my hair rinsed with kerosene. Perhaps that‘s why it was so black?

I lived in the Polish quarter. At a small street called Peowiakow. Grandmother had wealthy relatives, nieces. One of those owned a tannery plant. But a wealthy family wants nothing to do with the poor one.

I mean, when my mother got married, they wanted to give her an apartment in their house, but my mother rejected the offer. She simply didn’t want anyone’s generosity. We lived in the very center of Lublin, but the apartment was rather small, two rooms with a blind kitchen. We lived there until the war.

There was an iron warehouse in the back of our house, owned by a man named Wolman, a distributor for the entire Lublin province. I remember a story how an anti-Semitic priest said he wouldn’t buy rails for his house from a Jew, he’d go to the factory and buy straight from there. 

And later Wolman bowed deeply before him and thanked him for sparing the trouble, because he got his money anyway and didn’t have to deliver the goods… and the other guy almost exploded. [The factory was owned by Wolman too].

The iron warehouse was closed after 7 pm and on Saturdays. And all the kids from our street, there were seven or eight houses alongside it, came to us to play. You could really play great hide-and-seek among all that scrap. I was a major hoodlum. I was small and thin, in fact I’m even more petite today. Still, even boys were afraid of me.

Near where we lived was the Bernardynski Square. Lublin is within the reach of the continental, Russian climate rather than the oceanic one. In early December there was already snow. And on Bernardynski there stood green trees, the Christmas ones. It was beautiful!

The cawing crows, the green trees, and the white snow. Ours was a Jewish home; there was no Christmas tree or anything of the sort. But in the afternoon, after getting back from work, Grandmother took me and my sister by the hand and led us to the city.

The shop window displays were all set for Christmas and were full of movement. Sleds riding out from behind little houses, snowmen dancing, everything was moving in that window. And Grandmother led us down Krakowskie Przedmiescie so that we could watch the displays.

As we weren’t rich, I stood in front of the store and wondered how the pineapple could taste if one ring cost one zloty. The sweet canned ones were sold by ring. And for one zloty you could buy one kilogram of sugar. Or twenty buns.

So on and on – it was expensive. Oranges, lemons, in turn, you could buy from street vendors, for 10 groszy [100 groszy = 1 zloty], so I could afford to eat an orange. There was also St. John’s bread.

A pod-shaped, oblong loaf, you gnawed at the sides, a sweetish taste. It’s no longer, I don’t regret, it wasn’t anything to die for. You bought it by piece and ate it. There were no deli stores before the war. There was either the usual grocery, or the so called colonial store which sold all those imported foodstuffs.

What can I say about our Jewishness?  Though we lived in a Polish neighborhood, we had many Jewish friends, and they visited us. My father spoke poor Polish. He spoke, as was typical for Jews before the war, ungrammatically, poorly.

There are four cases in Yiddish, and seven in Polish. He couldn’t always decline the cases properly. And at home we spoke Yiddish. If father had gone somewhere, say, to Kazimierz, and I wanted to write him a letter, I had to write in Yiddish; otherwise I wouldn’t have received a reply.

Those days I spoke Yiddish fluently, but today I don’t. Today I stutter, am at loss for words. When my father died, I was in my thirties. And for so many years I spoke and wrote and read Yiddish. Read I can to this day. If a friend from Israel writes to me in Yiddish to spite me, I can read what he writes.

I prefer to reply him in Polish. Because if I do it in Yiddish, it’s ‘Noah seven errors.’ It’s this Jewish saying: that in the word ‘Noah,’ which has only two letters in Hebrew, you make seven errors.

On the Sabbath you sang all kinds of songs. It was the only day when my father was home because on the other days he was either at the Bund 1 or at work.

My mother had the habit of taking us to picnics. On a nice spring day, on a Saturday, when father wasn’t working, we took rucksacks with a blanket, with food, and went to the woods. There were plenty of woods around Lublin. I remember how we drank spring water, it was tasty, cold and good. I liked those excursions.

On weekdays I had an hour’s lunch break, but to eat lunch at home I had to wait for my father to come back because you didn’t eat without him. By the Jewish custom, the father was the master of the house.

But I and my sister knew that the true master of the house was our mother, that she, the saying was, ‘wore trousers.’ Because she always asked him about things in such a way that he agreed with her and did what she wanted.

I remember this silly story: my father was a ‘Jewish drunkard,’ this is he never drank, and if he did drink a single glass, he was instantly drunk. He wasn’t able to hold his liquor. We had a neighbor, a Jew, worked as an upholsterer.

And he could have lived well and earned well, but he was addicted to cards. His wife, who had three kids, learned that if he had any money on him, she had to grab the opportunity to buy whatever she needed, because on the next day the money wouldn’t be there. And one day, on some feast, he knocked to us and asked my father to come to his place for a moment. Mom said, ‘Don’t go, it’s going to be a bash.’

‘Well, you know, I don’t have to drink much.’ Off he went and vanished. And Mother got malicious and whoever came to see Father, she sent them there. And that person went there. Later, in the evening, came Father, completely drunk, and a good friend of ours – also drunk.

We had a large double bed, so my mother put them both there, gave them a wet cloth to put on the head, placed a bowl near the bed, and left. They weren’t used to drinking, so they upchucked [threw up] for a long time.

On the next day, my father, all with a hangover, was saying it was all my mother’s fault. Whoever she sent, that person paid for another bottle. And later, when there were so many of them, they brought a whole crate…

So they got drunk well. And that was he first and only time that I saw my father drunk. But my mother did what wise women did those days. You shouldn’t argue with a drunk man. You should tell him, ‘Go to sleep.’

My father was an active Bund member before the war. The Bund was something like the PPS 2 for he Poles. Socialist. I think he joined as a young boy. In truth, he had communist inclinations.

But because he was a coward as far as physical pain was involved, he was afraid that if they arrested him for communism – and so much as threatened with torture – he would give everyone away.

So he preferred to be on the Bund, which was socialist but not communist. I’m not the party member type. I joined the Jung Bund on a follow-up basis, but I wasn’t particularly active, after all, I had to work.

Off peak season I worked for eight-ten hours a day, but in peak season, carnival, holidays, I sat there until midnight. In fact, I was busy all the time. Young people came to visit us. We talked, sang. I once knew very many Yiddish songs but today I can no longer sing.

Our place was a communist den before the war. Whenever someone was to come from Lublin and didn’t have a place to stay – the five of us lived in two rooms – my mother would set up a cot and sleep the person.

We didn’t know their names, it was all conspiracy, after all. And in a Bund member’s house they wouldn’t look for a communist, so they could stay there safely. I remember one whom we dubbed ‘comrade X.’

Because he told us, ‘I can give you a name, but it won’t be mine anyway, so what’s the difference?’ I don’t know whether ‘comrade X’ survived the war or not. If he fled to Russia, they murdered the communists there, said they were all spies, and if he stayed in Poland, he could have died too, as a Jew…

I know Pilsudski 3 has a mixed image. I remember a drawing in the Robotnik, the PPS newspaper, before the war: the PPS are riding on the train, and Pilsudski leaves at the station ‘Independence.’ I know he can be blamed for Bereza Kartuska 4, for various other things, but as long as he lived, Poland wasn’t a fascist country.

It was a country where Jews could live. There were the endeks 5, the ONR 6, various excesses, but, all in all, you could live. After Pilsudski’s death, however, the country took a sharp turn towards fascism.

Then I, who was always very valiant, constantly picked up street fights, if someone leapt at me or slapped me with a newspaper – ‘oh, you this and this’ – I hit back. And as you read and derive some knowledge from those readings, I learned that if you kick a boy in a certain place, he will be in too much pain to continue fighting.

So I simply assessed the distance and always kicked infallibly. He cried, ‘Oh God’ and ran to the nearest gate. Thus I defended myself.

In the Saski Garden we had the following encounter once: I was with a girl friend of mine, Andzia Borensztajn, we were about to go home. We were sitting on a bench, the last five minutes. And there suddenly come two girls with two boys.

We are to vacate the bench because they want to sit here. And there were empty benches around. We said, ‘We sit here. If you don’t like it, don’t want to sit next to us, very well, there are empty benches around.’

So they attacked us. And what I liked the most about the situation was that the two of us fought against those two girls, and the boys stood at the side and didn’t interfere. We won, and we ostentatiously sat on the bench for five more minutes, only for five because we had to go home. And then we got up and left. We won so we could leave.

As far as religion is concerned, I don’t know much. Once, when my paternal grandmother visited us, for those few days my father had to put on the tephilin in the morning and pray before going to work. And she immediately asked which utensils were for milk and which for meat, and so on.

Well, there were enough utensils, so my mother divided them and didn’t interfere with the cooking anymore, afraid to do something wrong. We didn’t have separate milk and meat cutlery.

True, there was a special basket for the holiday matzah, the apartment was cleaned up for Pesach, but it wasn’t cleaned up the Jewish way. Because the traditional way you have to boil, bake the plates to remove any traces of flour, and so on.

At the very end you find some piece of bread in some corner and throw it out triumphantly. This is the classic Jewish holiday clean-up. We did it without all those stunts. We ate matzah, but we also ate bread.

Grandmother fasted, didn’t eat, didn’t drink. And our home was always full of people, they couldn’t eat at home so they came to us to eat and drink. Unfortunately, I remember none of them – only Wajsman, who died in the Soviet Union.

When my grandmother went to the synagogue, she threw a silk shawl over her sheytl. I was in synagogue once or twice in Lublin. I think it was on Lubartowska – certainly in the Jewish quarter, but I don’t remember precisely where.

My father didn’t go. I was talked into going by Grandmother, so I went with her once, but I didn’t like it that the men sat and saw everything whereas the women, off to the side, saw nothing. But the boy choir was beautiful. Because there was no organ.

After the war, I was surprised when at the Nozykow synagogue 7 in Warsaw I saw a choir, I don’t remember whether they were from Wroclaw or Jelenia Góra. A mixed synagogue choir. With women. Strange, because it was different before the war.

In the Jewish quarter, I remember, I once saw through the basement window a rabbi dancing with his students. They were dancing to music. These days they don’t dance at the synagogue. They only dance with the Torah [on Simchat Torah]. It had to be somewhere on Lubartowska, but I don’t remember precisely where.

Once we successfully begged our mother to consecrate the candles on a Friday. There were candles in everybody’s windows, only not in ours. So she showed to us how to do it, after all, she was brought up in a religious home, wasn’t she?

So she lit the candles and said prayers for the family, and I have to say me and my sister liked it very much. Besides that, we once asked our father to prepare a genuine seder. It’s a holiday, let him show us how the festive dinner looks like.

And because there was no son, I was the youngest child, it was me who asked the four questions. I remember how we looked at the chalice to see whether Elias had come and drunk some or not. I liked the holiday, there had to be raisin wine, of course, Grandmother made it herself, and besides that there was cherry liqueur.

Mother didn’t give us, the children, alcohol, but she permitted us to crumble the matzah into the liqueur and eat. I liked it very much. Cherry liqueur and matzah.

Purim. The hamantashen was a wonderful thing, Mom made a triangle-shaped pastry with poppy seeds, very tasty, and you went around with rattles… On the streets, in the Jewish quarter. Everyone had them.

In the Polish quarter the Polish kids bought them too sometimes, simply because they liked them. You could buy them in the Jewish quarter in stores, of course. I also remember that you made pastries, whatever one could do best, and went to visit friends with that pastry.

On the Purim, you could trick others. I cheated our neighbor several times that I had seen her husband, he had come back, and she was all unhappy. Her husband was a wheeler-dealer, she liked it when he went away to Warsaw and wasn’t home.

There were the masqueraders, there was theatre. You can have fun, it’s a good thing. I can be an atheist and do not care about a religious holiday but the food and everything else – why not?

It’s the same with those masqueraders on Epiphany day these days [traditionally, children dressed up as Biblical figures visit neighbors’ homes on Epiphany day, a religious feast falling shortly after Christmas].

For Whitsunday [Shavuot] you made a cheesecake. Around June. Take half kilogram of cottage cheese, a quarter kilogram of butter, mince. Add half glass of sugar, some aroma, whisk in an egg…

Heat up slowly until the mixture boils. When it does, it becomes transparent. You take it off the heat, and for half kilogram add a spoon of either potato flour or pudding with a little bit of water, and put it away for a moment to thicken. Then you line up the form with butter cookies, pour in the cheese mixture, and put away. After it has chilled, you put in a fridge.

For a wedding, you made a sponge cake. The best food for me, when I was still a small kid, was sponge cake spread with marinated herring. I know one thing: some foods we never ate. And not even because my mother observed kosher, but because of habit.

You didn’t add either butter or gelatin to fish because that was something you didn’t do. Today there are no seasonal foods, you can eat everything fresh or frozen all year round. But in the past it was like that:

in the spring there was only chicken, in the summer it was only duck, in the autumn it was goose, and in the winter it was hen and of course rooster. There was a season for everything. And in the autumn, the goose-slaughtering season, you bought goose fat in the Jewish butcher shops.

You could buy it with skin and have beautiful cracklings, or just the fat, which melted fully. Whole stone pots of that fat stood in the basement, and it didn’t go rancid.

Fish is the so called parve food, neither meat nor dairy. You can eat anything after fish. Because ours was a Jewish home, there had to be fish on Sabbath. And for many years, as long as my father lived, I had gefilte fish on Saturday.

Of vegetables, you take: a bit of parsley, a lot of carrot, and even more onion. At least a tablespoon of sugar per one kilogram of fish. A lot of pepper. Fish should be relatively salty, sweet, and peppery. You hash raw fish with onion.

For a kilogram of fish, two or three eggs, to hold it all together. We also added matzah floor. And you cook it. I make compressed balls and put them into boiling water with vegetables. Fish should cook for two hours.

No one mixes fish with a spoon. You shake the pot lightly. When it’s cooked, you take the fish out carefully and leave the sauce. It will turn into aspic automatically if you’ve added carp’s head. Carp’s head is the Jewish treasure. At home, everyone fought for the head. It’s fatter and better than any other part.

Meat used to be meat. Prystor’s meat… Prystor was a parliament member who said that it was unaesthetic to slaughter animals, that it was better to electrocute them 8. And as electrocution wasn’t kosher, because blood wasn’t drained, Jews had a limit, so much to kill. Hind beef was non-kosher, even if ritually slaughtered.

That was because it’s impossible to remove the veins from the hind part. It’s easy, though, with the front part. So Jews ate the front meat, smoked the brisket, and that was the Jewish ham.

I don’t remember where we bough meat, whether in the Jewish quarter or the Polish one. There was this butcher called Suchodol in Lublin, he made really good cured meat. The bet cured meat in Lublin. I know I ate Polish cured meat too, because it wasn’t like it’s forbidden.

When Grandmother prepared meat, it was the Jewish way. There was a wooden box, with walls, legs, and a groove for the juice to trickle. After washing the meat, you salt it thoroughly from six sides and put away for two hours. Then you rinse it and only then cook. Whether my mother did it like that, I don’t remember, but my grandmother certainly did.

It was worse when she prepared liver. First she salted it well, then – we had a coal stove – she put it on the coals to roast, so that there was no blood, and only then started to fry. As a result, liver was always tough. But good. Salty, good. And tough – well, what could you do. That was the way they prepared it.

My mother prepared all kinds of things. Goose necks. Mince flour with poultry fat, add salt and pepper, stuff the neck with it and cook in broth. Yummy! Or sweet rice. Cooked with raisins or apples, with eggs, and casseroled.

Cooked noodles, mixed with eggs, layered with fruit like a layer cake, and baked sweet. When my mother made something like that and I took it to work, I had to take a really large chunk because all my colleagues wanted me to treat them. Because it was really very good.

Dumplings with matzah flour. To serve four, you take half a liter of water, four eggs, some chopped onion fried on poultry fat, add salt and pepper to taste, and matzah flour about a cup, a cup and half.

This is at first rather runny, but after it has stood for some time with the matzah flour, it gets thicker and you can form dumplings. I also add a pinch of baking soda. You cook it in salted water, and then pour broth over it. This is an Easter dish.

My mother also made potatoes to accompany chicken soup. Potato pancakes. You make it like that: one mid-sized potato per person and one eggs per person. You mix the cooked potato with the egg, salt, pepper, to taste of course, add a beaten egg white, and fry the pancakes on fat.

Then you pour chicken soup over it. This is an elegant potato dish for a festive chicken soup, not for Easter, but for Sabbath.

My mother also made a buckwheat groats pie. She certainly made it with rough puff pastry. She cooked the groats beforehand. Then she roasted them with onion. That she baked and cut into pieces, and it didn’t fall apart, it held together, so I guess she added eggs. It was quite good.

Chopped liver with egg and onion, fried liver of course, always with chicken fat, very good. Kidney beans cooked and then minced – to hull it – in a mincer, and then with egg and onion, also other things.

Those were the appetizers, my mother made them. Sometimes she fried a piece of meat, because my father could abstain from eating for the whole day but dinner had to be with all the supplements, an hors d’oeuvre, and dessert.

You made all kinds of things. My mother made something that today would be regarded as a poor man’s dish. If she had any stale bread or challah, she cut it into pieces, poured boiling water over it, added salt and a piece of butter.

That’s a kind of poor man’s soup. For me, it was great. Not because she made it out of poverty, she simply had various uses for that stale bread. And war taught me that you never throw bread away.

My grandmother made borscht. She never cooked it with raw beets, but always pickled them first. And she didn’t season it – as the Poles do – with cream, but with egg yolks. Cream was forbidden because that would have made the soup a dairy dish.

That borscht was like wine. My mother always said, ‘Mum, how many yolks have you added?’ ‘Not many, only two!’ came the answer. Eggs used to be cheap. For three eggs you could buy a pack of cigarettes.

The best thing was matzebrei, my daughters like it to this day. Matzebrei means ‘fried matzah’ in German [editor’s note: actually ‘matzah mash’]. I make a lot of onion with fat, chicken fat is the best, goose fat as a last resort, you have to brown the onion a bit, so that it gives off the scent.

You add soaked, broken matzah, fry it a little so that the matzah absorbs the salt, pepper and fat, then you add an egg, mix it all, and you have a delicious dish.

We made cholent, the classic one, with kishke. My mother peeled the potatoes, onion was added too, of course. Salt, pepper to taste. You bought beef intestine by the meter, with suet on the surface.

My mother stuffed the intestine with flour, salt, and pepper, and – stuffing – turned the suet side inside. She sewed up the ends. Then she scalded it again and cleaned thoroughly. That intestine went on the top, on the potatoes, you wrapped the pot with rags, newspapers, whatever, to make it tight.

In the Jewish quarter you took the pot to a baker, to a bread oven, but we had a stove with an oven of its own. You put the pot into a hot oven and on Sabbath you took it out, and you had regular cholent. Crisp brown kishke and crisp potatoes.

That was Jewish cholent, our own. But when I lived in Warsaw, my sister-in-law made it differently. Hulled barley, fat flat rib, kidney beans, and potatoes. Simmer the meat with the beans and the barley, so as to boil away almost all water.

Add raw potatoes, salt, pepper, onion, of course, then wrap it up tightly and put into an oven, on a very low heat, 100 degrees Celsius, no more. It roasts for a whole day, then another – I turn the heat off for the night just in case – and on the third day the guests come and eat. As my birthday falls in February, when it’s cold – I won’t be making in the summer – I make cholent in the winter. For my birthday guests. They love it.

I completed an elementary school. My sister, who was two years older than me, went to a Jewish school in the Jewish quarter. An ordinary school, elementary, it was called at the time. It was at Lubartowska, far from home.

Because my father was a Bundist and above all he was a Jew. We were never ashamed of being Jews. Even today, when I strike up a friendship with someone, I tell them right away, so that there’s no embarrassment when they say something about Jews, and here I am, a Jew. So my father believed we should go to a Jewish school.

I spent two years at the Jewish school together with my sister, even though they didn’t want to admit me, I was only 5. But my sister went, so was I to sit at home? I went with her. And because the teacher was a friend of my mother’s, she tolerated my presence in the classroom. I kept very quiet, unlike on the street. I kept very quiet so eventually she started asking me questions.

And then a decision was made that we should change the school because there was a Polish one right near our house, at Bernardynska, we wouldn’t have to walk to the other side of town. So we transferred to a Polish elementary school number 9.

My sister was taken back a year because her Polish was poor. And I was admitted to first grade. In that school, I was a particularly shy kid. Quiet, calm. I went to the teacher and told her I didn’t want to be in first grade, because I was bored. 

That I could read and write, and count, so that perhaps I could be moved to second, to be together with my sister. Later I regretted it a bit when I saw how the first graders played, and there was none of that in the second.

But I went together with my sister and it was like that: I was small and skinny, but had a strong fighting spirit. I mean, at school I was quiet. But if someone stepped on my toes, I knew how defend myself. I was always ugly but I laughed a lot.

I always looked well in photos, I was photogenic. Trousers were unfashionable those days; I had a pair made by a tailor because I wanted to wear trousers. Elka was more similar to my mother’s brothers, whom I didn’t know. She was very non-photogenic, though a pretty girl. Brown-haired. She had plaits so thick you could barely grab them with your hand. She was tall, taller than our parents…

At first she was also slender. Only after turning 11 she put on weight, blossom. At 11 years old, she was 165 centimeters tall and weighed 70 kilograms. And if someone tried to pick up a fight with one, the other stood in her defense.

My sister irritated me a little. If we went for a walk to a park together and I disappeared from her sight, she’d run and around shouting, ‘Where’s my child!’ I am her child! Well, but still we lived harmony, we were two sisters, we lived together.

We studied together, but it looked like this: when she was reading out a poem or anything to memorize it, I wasn’t. I had already memorized it.

I was a very good student throughout school, straight As. I loved math, physics, chemistry. All science subjects, but my smooth talk shows I wasn’t bad at Polish literature either. My essays were always ten pages long, the teacher always said, ‘Write shorter ones!’

Because how long would it take her to read them if all were that long? We had our own religion teacher. The other girls had a priest, whom they loved very much and whom we loved as well. A really good man. But we had our own [Jewish] religion teacher.

I had a grievance against her once, very serious. It was Easter and I came to school with kosher matzah with scrambled eggs. It happened so that I swapped that matzah with a friend of mine for a butter-and-ham sandwich. And that friend then told on me to the religion teacher.

The religion teacher put me to kneel in the corner. She explained to me later that I had committed a sin, more than a double one: not only did I eat ham; it was also with butter and bread, all of which is forbidden on a high holiday. A triple sin with a single sandwich! Isn’t this horrible?

For thirty students in my class, there were seven Jews, and the history teacher never called us ‘Jews’ but always ‘Israelites.’ Every time she said that, I felt like someone slapped me in the face. Why Israelites? Why not Jews? I assumed she was a Jew-hater.

Today I think I was wrong, she simply tried not to hurt our feelings. But I couldn’t study history. When I studied it, it went in this way and out that way, leaving little in the head. And she kept asking me, ‘Szwarcowna, you’re good at all other subjects, why aren’t you good at history?’

What was I supposed to say? ‘Because I don’t like you, madam’? For the final report card, however, in order not to spoil it, she gave me a B instead of a C. I had all As and that single B. That I will never forget her, in the good sense, that she didn’t want to hurt me.

And then it began. My tutor called my parents and told them, ‘Because your daughter has been such a good student, she should go to gymnasium.’ The tuition fee was forty zlotys a month. An unimaginable sum. I knew I wasn’t good for giving private lessons, because it annoyed me that my pupil didn’t know what I knew.

I knew that if I proved a good student, they‘d reduce the fee after several months to just ten zlotys a month. But that was still a lot of money. So I sat down with my parents, like a grown-up with grown-ups, talked to them.

I told them I knew there was no money at home. If I went to work, I’d start earning. Otherwise, I’d be studying for four more years and there’d be even less money. And it was me who convinced my parents rather than the other way round. And I went to work.

Though a friend of my mother’s believed I’d make a great dressmaker, judging by the dresses I made for my dolls, I said had no patience for that, and that I’d go mad before I made a dress. I better make hats, I said.

I went to make hats to a milliner. But because I was 13 and the age requirement for an official contract was 15, I didn’t make any money until I turned 15. Except as tip from time to time for delivering a client’s hat to her home.

My boss was such a person that she kept me in the shop until midnight. And there was still of a way to walk home. I worked near where we lived, one bus stop, let’s say, but who used buses before the war. You always walked on foot.

Twenty groszy the single fare was a lot of money. Until one day my mother went to ask her, that I’m only 13, to let me go home earlier, and on that same day she kept me until after midnight, and she asks me whether I’m the only child that my mother is so protective towards me.

She herself had just one son and was really overprotective towards him. But I didn’t matter. I don’t know her name. I’ve never had a good memory for names, not that I’ve forgotten because of old age.

My last boss was the best one. I was already 15, so during those two years when I worked for free I had already learned something. When she took me, I could sign a proper contract. It was called an apprentice course.

I started actually making the hats. But not only that. As I had good visual memory, she’d send me on the street to look out for original designs. Every [milliner shop] had its own designs which were made in very short series. So I’d return to the shop and use a kind of rigid muslin to form a semblance of what I had spotted.

My boss was very satisfied with me, shortly before the war I was making thirty zlotys. So I was able to pay for myself. All those milliner shops were very elegant. All my bosses were Jewish, and I know that the last one survived the war. She lived in Warsaw at Waszyngtona Avenue.

I learned, don’t remember from whom, that she still lived there, and I went there. She was glad I had survived, I was glad she had survived, and that was it.

My sister too had already gone to work by the time. Elka was serious, quiet, my opposite, because I was a little devil, which you can tell even today. She had a boyfriend, but believed he laughed a lot, was unserious.

She went to gymnasium after completing elementary school, but we didn’t have money for that. Finally, after a year she gave up and went to work, first as a babysitter, and then she worked at some hops plant.

I had a boyfriend, he was my father’s apprentice. Berek Rainer. When he started working for my father, he was 20, and I was 13. At first he treated me as the boss’ daughter, but then, slowly, slowly, we became a couple.

He never proposed to me, never said he’d marry, but everyone laughed Szwarc was rearing himself a son-in-law. And shortly before the war within three months that boy lost both his parents. He had three younger siblings and had to take care of them. And he stayed in Lublin.

  • During the war

The war broke out and everything ended. We didn’t know yet what Hitler would do to the Jews. We knew it would be bad, but we didn’t anticipate just how bad. When my father was fleeing east during the war, a friend of his wrote him that it was a pity my father had left because, as a councilor, he’d be on the Judenrat 9.

He’d be on the Judenrat and would be very happy sending Jews to camps and everywhere, right? A pity. How did people imagine that business?

My best friend was Andzia Borensztejn. On the eve of the outbreak of the war, they announced a call-up in Lublin. And the two of us were just returning from Bystrzyca, which was a small river. We were walking down Krakowskie Przedmiescie Street and someone made us a photo.

We saw those large call-up posters. And then I ask her, ‘How do you think, Andzia, will you survive the war?’ And she says, ‘No, I won’t.’ ‘And I will.’ And that proved true. She didn’t survive, I did.

My father was rather sickly, and my mother was terribly worried that if they took him – they were taking men as hostages – he wouldn’t survive. And it was my mother who forced my father to flee from Lublin. Eastwards, beyond the Bug [1939 – 1942 the border river between Germany and USSR].

My father went with a group of friends and vanished. Others were sending letters, my father was sending nothing. My boyfriend ran the watchmaker’s shop and German soldiers were coming to us.

One was telling me poor Jews had nothing to fear because Hitler was only interested in the rich ones. He didn’t know himself what he was talking about. And one day it was so: it’s after curfew, and there’s a knocking on the door.

A soldier. He must have his watch because tomorrow he goes to the front. And the keys are with my boyfriend in the Jewish quarter at the other side of town. We tell him it’s after curfew. He’ll accompany me.

So my mother begs him to then escort me back, because what, I’ll have to sleep at the shop? And so we’re walking, in the night, through the town, there are guards everywhere, with dogs, German soldiers, and time after time they stop us.

Those dogs were trained: the dog stands in front of you, sideways, so that you can’t pass. When the guard had been through – he talked only to the soldier, not me – he patted the dog, the dog stepped back.

When we got close to the Jewish quarter, there was no ghetto yet, it was really swarming with them. They were staging pogroms, all kinds of things. I went into the alley where my boyfriend lived. I started calling him.

Finally someone answers me. Who am I? I introduce myself with my full name and say I want to talk to Berek. ‘Just a moment.’ A gate opens, they let me in. I say, ‘You have to go with me.’ He told the others he might have to spend the night at my place, and off we went.

He put that watch together, and the soldier saw me off. He refused to see Berek off, though. ‘What, I’ll be walking like that the whole night?’ he said. So Berek spent the night with us.

I remember one more picture from the occupation period. I was in Poland for only a short time, because the Germans entered in September, and in November I left in search of my father. So I remember, a German was walking down the street – an elderly man – and he dropped something.

So I, a well-mannered person, picked it up instinctively and ran to hand it to him. God, how a Polish woman got down on me. How she hurled abuse at me for lackeying the Germans. And I simply didn’t think about that.

Then my mother comes to me one day at six in the morning. He wakes me up. ‘You’ll go to the headquarters and obtain a paper that you have to go to the border.’ I say, ‘Why me? My sister’s older than me.’ But my sister was saying all the time, ‘I’ll die because of the Germans;’ she wasn’t leaving the apartment at all.

I walked around, worked in the shop with Berek. I was the brave one, so it was me who’d go. I secured the paper, brought it home, and my mother says, ‘Alright, and now pack your things and your father’s things.’

And so: warm clothes for me and him, his winter coat, warm boots, for me too, all the watchmaker’s tools, for what kind of a watchmaker are you when you don’t have the tools? A gloomy, rainy day, you know how it is in November. Someone will take us across the Bug.

And they’ll take us somewhere. Not true. They only took the money for getting you across the river, and on the other side they left you, and do what you want.

I traveled with strangers. The smugglers took us to a German checkpoint, because they had a deal with the Germans they’d rob us first and then we could go. First of all they asked who had a pass, it turned out only I had it.

And because it said they also had to assist me with my luggage, they said to me, ‘Take your things and step aside.’ Someone put his suitcase next to mine, he was delivering clothes for his wife, so that they didn’t take it. On the next day they took us across the Bug. And left there.

We walked around in circles for the whole night. And as I have good visual memory, I kept telling them: ‘Listen, we’re walking in circles, returning to the Bug all the time. We must go straight ahead.’ But who will listen to a teenage girl!

I was 18, so who was I, those were grown-up people, after all! Eventually, in the morning, we arrived at some village and spent the whole day there.

And in the evening I went to Brzesc [presently Belarus, city on Polish border, 200 km east of Warsaw] by train. I get off at the station and meet the man my father went with! He says, ‘Your father is here!’

My father told me later, ‘Yes, I felt on that rainy night that someone was going towards me.’ Because I found my father, it was like that: it didn’t make sense to return to the Germans. And it was impossible to bring my mother to that side.

My mother was born in Lublin, they wouldn’t let her pass. If she had been born, say, in Brzesc… She could also pass if she married someone fictitiously. But those days a thing like a fictitious marriage was out of the question.

So we stayed with my father in Brzesc. There I went for some time to a Jewish school, learned in Yiddish about our beloved Stalin, even received an award at the end of the term. After which it turned out they were telling us to accept Soviet passports. Some people did.

And immediately they had to go into the interior, to Kazakhstan, other places… because “uncertain elements” couldn’t stay near the border. And those who didn’t accept the document, they were “potentially hostile elements”, and had to be sent somewhere far.

They started preparing freight trains, the kind of ones you use to transport cattle. I had a friend in Brzesc who was courting me, wanted me to marry him and go away with him. Instead, he joined the army and died, I think. And he comes to me and says, ‘Listen, they’ll be taking you away!’ I say, ‘How do you know?’

‘Those trains, they’re preparing so many trains at the station.’ And indeed they were. They came in the night, told us to pack our things and leave with them. I had stashed a medical insurance ID.

Birth year 1921, I added a dash, first I tried the ink so that the color matched, now it was a ‘4’ and I was three years younger. Because I was afraid they’d separate me from my father. And so: families they sent to the north, to Komi [republic west of the Ural mountains], to Siberia, various places. And singles – to a camp.

  • In Komi

We traveled for a month. At first by train, in the night. We’d stop somewhere and they’d bring us something to eat. A soup made of nettle or some other weed, we could draw some water.

At first they locked the cars and set up a semi-toilet in the middle. What – everyone will sit and look at the others looking at him? So we kept losing the locking rings. Until they gave it up and left the door unlocked. But no one ran away.

Where were we supposed to run without any papers? They’d have caught us right away. Then we sailed for so many days on a ship, a kind of hollowed out barge, there was one toilet on the top and that was it. Then they let us off in the taiga and we had to walk for some… Twenty five kilometers? Into the taiga.

There we lived in barracks, some twenty families per barrack. Those who had sheets, had sheets; those who did not, did not. And work, usually in the forest. All women didn’t have their period for a year after coming to Komi.

The different climate. I was a maiden, I knew I wasn’t pregnant, but the married ones were worried. And there, in Komi, we stayed in the forest for something like two years.

Perhaps it’s the flow of time that it seems to me like ten years, but no. And then they let us go to the countryside. And in the countryside we started working as watchmakers. I also worked as a watchmaker. I could install a spring, clean a watch.

But I didn’t do much because my father never wanted to agree for me to be a watchmaker. I was for a total of four years in Komi with my father.

The local ‘folklore’ is the more pleasant part of the story. We rented a room and lived with a family. Unfortunately, we had to sleep together because we had one blanket, one pillow, and one bed. The blanket and pillow were ours.

Later they gave us a little single-room house, we made a partition with boards, and here you worked and there you slept. At the side stood an iron stove that during the winter you heated around the clock. With wood of course. We kept chopping and sawing wood.

The houses there were built with logs. A stove in front and a bread oven. Under the house there was a clearance, a meter and half tall. If there was a pig or a cow, it stood there, underneath.

The clearance had to be there because the stove not to stand on the ground because it would have collapsed. It would collapse during the spring thaw. There had to be some isolation between the oven and the living room.

That isolation was a pigsty or a cow shed. Moss was stuffed between the logs, and in the winter, when it was -50 degrees Celsius outside, those houses were very warm. Wood is a poor conductor.

The windows were tiny, just two vents, but they didn’t open them during the winter at all, couldn’t imagine you could air the house. The house is a semi. You enter from both sides up the stairs to a hallway where there stand barrels with sauerkraut, barrels with cranberry, because you store cranberry in spring water during the winter, and so you do with blueberries.

Dried mushrooms hanging from the ceiling. Salted mushrooms. Huge numbers of brooms. All kinds of things, everything you can store, stood in that hallway. The toilet is behind a partition wall, there’s a bench made with wood blocks, you sit on it, and there, in the bottom… hmm… it all drops there. There’s even no stink. In the summer you spill it over with something, in the winter it freezes.

From there you enter the room. The winter part has a large bread oven. Where I was were two rooms: one tiny one where we lived, and another one a little bit larger. The floor is clean, scrubbed so you can lie on it, no problem, and the oven is covered with bearskin coats. And there you can sleep. It’s snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug there. It’s the top part, up under the ceiling.

That’s the winter part. The summer one is similar, only there’s no oven. There are plenty of bugs, though, because it’s warm. So in the middle of the winter, during the worst cold, they move to the summer part for a couple of days and here it all freezes out. For a couple of years you have nothing to worry about, no bedbugs, no cockroaches. Nothing.

One more thing about those houses. Each had its own bathhouse. But the bathhouse was a hundred and fifty meters from the house. Also made with logs. You entered a hall where you drew water to barrels, because otherwise it would freeze.

The surface was frozen anyway. In the main room there were large holes in the walls which normally you plugged with pegs, but when there was fire under the round stone oven into which a huge cauldron with water was set, you had to unplug them to let the smoke out. That’s why it was a black bath, ‘chyornaya banya,’ because the walls were all in soot.

You burned wood until the stones were red hot, and after all wood had been burned, when there was no more smother, you plugged all the holes, brought the cold water from the hall in bowls, poured it onto the stones and made a steam bath… like hell! And now: who will endure for how long. They sat at the very top. I sat at the bottom and thought I’d die! And it’s like this: everyone bathes together.

‘What, you want to bathe alone, and who’ll wash your back?’ So there went the peasant, his wife with a three-month child on her hand, they entered the bathhouse. Then I jumped in, didn’t last long, I felt like water was running from my eyes, nose, ears. And I ran the hundred and fifty meters back home. Who thought about dressing! The housewife went out in an undershirt, naked and barefoot.

Almost -50 degrees Celsius. He in his underpants, barefoot and naked. The baby had a diaper. And so you went the hundred and fifty meters home. And only there you could catch your breath, dry yourself, get dressed. And you didn’t catch cold. You were so hot you didn’t have time to freeze.

When one time I popped out while washing the floor to throw out the water, the way I was dressed and barefoot, the next day I had 40 degrees Celsius fever. A Russian woman who lived with us applied the following remedy: one third glass of spirit, two thirds hot tea. And an aspirin. She told me drink it. And the next day I had no fever. Miraculous therapy. My father caught rose of the face.

A very dangerous disease. When he went to a doctor, she gave him Prontozil, the first sulphamide; it tinted your pee red. And she told him to use the common, folk method – take a copybook cover, red or blue, pour a lot of chalk on it, cover the face, wrap around so that it didn’t slip off, draw the curtains. And my father got well. When I got twilight blindness, the village women told me I had to have seal fat and they brought me some as well.

It was a shaking kind of jelly, almost transparent, amber-colored. Dripping with stinking, fish oil. And believe me, after the first spoon of that fat I started seeing again. But you don’t throw something as good as this away. I fried potatoes on it; they had a fish aroma, yummy.

It was like that: you work, but in the summer they send everyone to the forest for the forest produce. I fell in love with the forest only in the taiga. Most of the trees there are of the northern variety, spruces. They were sky-high.

Covered to half-height with gray moss, they looked like standing whitebeards. Beautiful! There were water holes, swamps. There was permafrost. During the heat of the summer there was still snow in the deep ravines. Doesn’t it look strange? Berries larger than cherries. It was there that I saw the bog bilberries for the first time.

When it’s, say, harvest time, everyone goes to help. The first time I took a sickle, I cut myself here and I still have a mark. I cut it to the bone. Because I couldn’t operate the sickle, I handled it the wrong way. 

They said I didn’t deserve to eat bread if I couldn’t harvest it. No peasant there owns his own cow. He doesn’t because during the two summer months he won’t be able to mow enough grass for food and litter.

So, if the family has many members, he owns half a cow. If the family has few members, he owns quarter of a cow. What does it mean? It doesn’t mean the cow is today here and tomorrow there, because everyone would count on the other to feed it and the cow would starve to death.

The cow spends one week with one farmer, one with the other one, one with the third one, and so on. And when it goes to graze, it knows perfectly well: this barn is closed, so it goes to the other one, the second one is closed, she goes to the third one.

They milk those cows but don’t know what to do with the milk. They’ll pour some for the dog, some for the cat, drink some themselves, and in the winter freeze the rest. They take a one liter bowl, pour milk into it and put the bowl into snow.

The milk freezes, you shake it out of the bowl and put deep into snow, so that the dogs don’t reach it. In the winter, you dig it out and melt it. I remember how once a peasant brought a sack in return for repairing his watch.

My father says, ‘You’ll see it’s milk he brought.’ ‘In a sack?’ I ask. And the guy shakes out ten pieces of milk. So I did like that: I put the whole ten liters to curdle. I gathered the cream and made a bit of butter.

With the rest I made curd cheese. How happy we were. We had cheese, we had butter. And the peasants looked at us puzzled. And if that were not enough, my friend’s son took all the whey, mixed it with buttermilk, we drank some, he took the rest, went to the train station and sold it for some kopeks per glass. And he made some money. So you can make do everywhere if only you want to.

Once they gave us a patch of land. It’s called a ‘whole,’ land that hasn’t been cultivated yet. We planted some potatoes, and had our own. How many did I get? Ten kilograms to plant? You were hungry…

So you cut those potatoes in half. There are many spots on one side, so you cut that part off and planted it carefully on a handful of ash. The rest you ate. And from those cut-off pieces – those were Michurin’s varieties – I obtained a huge amount of potatoes.

There were four or five tubers under each plant. You don’t wait there for them to ripen in the soil because in September temperature already falls below zero degrees Celsius. You plant them in late June and you have to pick them in late July, and each potato weighs almost one kilogram.

I knew the Komi language, or Zyrian. So they said to me, ‘Te, Aniuta, achid mort, you’re our guy. You speak our language.’ They treated me like one of their own, taught me all kinds of things.

How to salt the mushrooms, because for them, no mushroom is poisonous. Either you have to boil them several times, changing the water each time because the poison moves to the water, or place them in a sack and put the sack into fresh water, and the poison will rinse away. They have a thousand ways. The boiled mushrooms are then heavily salted.

There’s no dill, for where would they be supposed to take it from, in fact no spices whatsoever. In the winter, when I already had my own potatoes, when I boiled them and added a handful of those salty mushrooms, it was a feast! Who would have thought.

If you managed to get hold of some rutabaga in the summer, you did like this: you peeled it, cut into pieces, stuffed into a pot, wrapped the pot up in rags, in the morning placed the pot in the oven, and went to work.

When you returned in the evening, that rutabaga looked like cholent! It was dark, sweet as honey. Fantastic! I don’t know whether I’d eat it today, but I loved it then!

When you repair a watch, you have to put it on, carry around to see how it works, what’s wrong with it. I went to the forest and I come back without the frame with the glass. My God, it’s somebody’s watch! What am I to do? They’ll kill us. I followed my own tracks back to the forest. And there it was! Miracles happen.

The river was beautiful. Vychegda, much broader than our Vistula and very deep. We, a team of ten girls, worked for some time making bricks. That was work for women. You had to dig out the clay, tread it through with water… horrible work.

Then you formed a brick, placed it in a frame so that it dried, discarded the frame and only then fired the brick. Then they gave us a horse to tread on the clay. Ten girls stood around him with whips lest it jumped out of that hole, because it wasn’t stupid to tread on coal.

It was a mare and she left a colt in the stable. So they told us to milk her because otherwise she’d get sick. No one wanted to do it, only I agreed. And when I tried the milk, it was very good. Something like tea with milk and sugar.

But when the girls started teasing me, I poured it all out, though with regret because it was really good. It was then that I understood what they said there.

That a bucket of water is a kilogram of bread, and a ton of water is a kilogram of fatback. I didn’t drink a bucket of water, but when we sat in the evening around the samovar to drink tea… it wasn’t really tea, it was a kind of herbal tea, made with remnants from various fruits if you had made a compote or whatever.

Dried peelings, stones and pips, all that was pressed together, brewed, and you had a kind of sour tea. And if we sat and drank like that, we could easily drink a liter each. What’s a liter? You drank it and you felt full, didn’t you?

Six hundred grams of bread, our daily allowance, was a small piece. And my father forced me to divide that into three and have a thin slice of bread three times a day. So that I don’t eat it all right away because I’d be hungry for the rest of the day.

And the soup in the canteen was very good. As the Russians say, ‘Shchi da kasha, pishcha nasha.’ [Shchi and kasha is our food]. Shchi is cabbage soup, and kasha is groats. Cabbage soup was a bit of water with two cabbage leaves, we ate the cabbage, but what to do with the water? And kasha… it was the first time I saw oat groats.

They were clumped together into a mass, they gave you some with a large spoon, you made a hole in the middle and it was just enough for a spoon of oil. Mmm… How good it was! You dipped every spoonful of kasha in that oil and ate.

Sometimes they gave us fried cod. Stinking. I can’t eat fis], I feel sick right away. But my father stood over me, ‘Eat, or you’ll be hungry, eat, you must have strength.’

That was the life in freedom. Because we were in exile, but free. My husband [Borys Mass] spent several years in a [Soviet] camp. It was like that: you have to cut so many trees, so many cubic meters.

If he cut that many, he got his allotment of bread, some unsweetened coffee in the morning and evening, and a spoonful of soup for lunch. A table spoon, I mean, not a ladle… Of some wish-wash thin cabbage soup.

If he did more than the quota was, he got an extra piece of bread. But if he did less, he got less. The weaker you were, the less you did, and the less you did, the more hungry you were and the less you did. People eventually starved to death. That’s how it looked in the camps.

Once we were trimming a tree trunk, one guy stood behind another, and when the one in front stepped back – the axes were sharpened every night, they cut themselves – the other took a swing… and cut half of his buttock off. Fortunately, not entirely.

They took him to a hospital, sewed up and it grew back together. But he spent as month in a hospital. And there was also an investigation whether that wasn’t an act of sabotage. We, the female brigade, had a similar story. We were working in the forest, grubbing out small trees.

The area is marshy, of course, there’s a rivulet, a narrow one, if you take a good run-up, you’ll jump over.

But it’s deep, there’s permafrost there, so it washes it away deeper and deeper. It meanders and we have to cut and grub out all the trees around it because there’ll be a meadow here. We threw the trees over the water to bridge it.

We were taught to keep our axes behind our back, tucked behind the belt. You mustn’t carry the axe in your hand because it’s very sharp. The slightest loss of balance and a girl could cut herself.

One was passing over the river and stepped on a free branch. And fell into water. We ran to pull her out, and it was deep. She went with her head down. We pull her out, and she cries: she’s lost her axe. She pulls her leg out of the water, and the boot is all bloody.

Blood trickling out of it. We look, and she had stuffed her axe right into the boot. So we say, it’s five kilometers home, as long as it doesn’t hurt you yet, we made a tourniquet with handkerchiefs, for what else did we have? We took her under the arms and went running home.

She walked some two kilometers herself, and then we had to carry her. She was in a hospital for a month. Sewing up and so on and we dived for the axe the following day and we found it. But still there was an official investigation, how did it happen that she had lost the axe in the first place?

Why was the axe in the hand instead of behind the belt? Sabotage! It was frightening.

I had a very close relationship with my mother, also a telepathic one. One story: I caught a cold before the war, got very high fever. And it turned out I had pleural exudate. I was ill for a very long time then. I was in bed for almost eleven weeks.

I put on eleven kilograms of weight because that’s how they fed me. Then I went to Miedzeszyn, there was a Bund sanatorium there. There I caught quinsy, had an ulcer in my throat. I was choking. And that last night, the worst one, I was pacing around the room and thinking: if only my mother was here, she’d surely help me.

And I hadn’t written home I was sick. I didn’t want them to worry. Besides, what am I, being sick while in sanatorium? And my father woke up in the night, my mother stands by the window and says, ‘You know, I feel she’s choking there.’ And she sent me a wire.

The ulcer burst in the morning. Another time it was a different kind of story. That was during the war. We were in Komi, two thousand kilometers from Lublin. I remember, it was April 1943, we were sitting besides a smoking lamp and reading.

My host said, ‘Aniuta, if someone comes, take a note.’ And left. They never lock the door there. And a moment later I hear how the door opens and closes, and I hear steps. I was engrossed in reading, so I raised my head and said, ‘Is it mum?’

And only my father’s astounded look made me realize… What am I saying? Have I gone mad? But after the war, after I had returned home, I found out that it was at that time that my mother was murdered in Belzec 10. I don’t remember the day, but it was April 1943.

So, dying, she said goodbye to me. Whether she was happy we’d survive, I don’t know. But I did receive her last thought.

There was one Polish guy up there in the north, Piotr Kobzan, I fell deeply in love with him. But he joined the Anders army 11 and later wrote me on his way that it was because of me. He was a career cadet officer. And I was a great patriot, I was telling him I’d join the army myself if it weren’t for my father. And my beloved felt embarrassed, he went to fight, only because of me.

Well, obviously I wasn’t meant to marry a Pole. After the war, his family was looking for him. He was from the Vilnius region, and I even wondered whether I should write them to tell them what I knew. But I already had a husband and a baby, and I thought, and what if he decides to contact me?

Returning to those Komi peasants. Were they bad people? No! People like people. A mixed lot. First of all, the kind of teeth they had I haven’t seen anywhere else. All their life they chew tree resin.

Just like it’s fashionable here to chew American bubble gum. They collect it when it congeals slightly on a spruce. It cleans the teeth and protects them. Even old people have white, strong teeth there. In the spring, it’s birch juice: you cut a birch like you cut a tree to collect resin, hang a bucket, and drink the juice that has dripped into it. That was really good!

And if you walked or rode through the forest, the world was beautiful! The trees all in snow, the roads white. And I sang, sang out loud, because I used to have a very nice voice. Soprano. The world was beautiful, so what that it was hungry, cold, and far from home?

White nights, superb. And the northern lights. It’s so wonderful. The colorful, beautiful curtain hanging in the sky. You saw many things. And what you saw, no one will take away from you. Everything there was interesting.

I could go on and on… Then Sikorski 12 and Wanda Wasilewska 13 finally arranged for us to be released from Komi. In 1944 people were going where they wanted. Some went to Central Asia, and that was really stupid.

From the northern climate into the sweltering heat, to Tashkent. And some didn’t survive that change of climate. We decided we wouldn’t go to Asia but closer to Poland, so Ukraine at most. At first we worked on a farm, or rather a kolkhoz 14, in Ukraine.

Near Bakhmach [small town 100 km north-east of Kiev]. It was two hours’ way to town. Because there were no horses following the German occupation, we drove cows. You yoked a pair of cows and they pulled the cart.

We were hungry as usual, I tried to milk a cow in the field. But either I didn’t know how or she didn’t want to give milk to a stranger. In fact, they don’t use boiled milk there. It’s melted milk, they call it ‘toplyenoye.’ [Russian for heated] When you take milk out of the bread oven, there’s a skin of butter on the surface. Melted butter and brown milk. I didn’t like it.

Ukraine was beautiful. I loved to sing. And they sing so much there. Like the lead singer, the ‘zapevaylo’ they call him. It’s like in the army: one soldier starts to sing and the others follow.

The same was here. One girl sings first, the others follow. A strong alto is the first voice. I was a soprano, but such a powerful one I had to be the first voice because otherwise I drowned the soprano out. Overall, to be honest, I received no harm from the Ukrainians.

But I don’t like them. I don’t like them for the UPA gangs 15 and all that. Though they didn’t harm me… But when I hear that we [the Poles] don’t love the Russians, I think to myself: my God, you don’t have to like your neighbor, but you have to live in harmony with him, and we can’t do that.

  • My husband

We spent the summer in that kolkhoz. Then they allowed us to move to the village, so we moved there to work as watchmakers. But soon we decided there wasn’t much to do there and it was decided that my father would go to Bakhmach.

He went there and at the station got all confused: where he should go, what he should do. He met a young man at the station. The man saw that my father stood helpless, so he asked him in Russian whether he was looking for something.

When he heard my father’s Russian, he switched to Polish. But my father’s Polish wasn’t much better. So they switched to Yiddish and they were home. That young man told my father where he should go, what he should arrange.

Upon his return, my father told me he had met a very good man at the station, his name was Mass, and that he liked him very much for helping him. And as I have good intuition, I thought, ‘That Mass will be my husband.’

We moved to Bakhmach, and there was a sugar-making kolkhoz there. I knew that guy Mass worked there. There were two girls from Poland there against thirty boys. So when I suddenly turned up, the boys immediately beset me.

And that boy Mass isn’t showing up! So I thought, ‘You scoundrel! I can do without it!’ I started meeting another boy and suddenly there turns up Mass. I still remember that unbuttoned shirt and freckled chest. He said hello and went.

Oh, so you’re like that? Okay, no big deal. But then any time he learned I was to visit friends on Sunday, he’d show up there. And as I was meeting another, he always crossed our path. And my then-boyfriend started pulling out. So I thought, ‘Well, what kind of a boyfriend are you if you don’t fight for me?’ And so I started meeting Mass.

And then he proposed to me. And that’s how I met my husband. Those features, besides the physical looks, that I had chosen at the age of 13 that my boyfriend should have, he had them all. Strong will, a sense of humor, that’s very important, and a good ear, because I used to sing a lot.

What else can I say? My husband’s name was Borys Mass. He was born 10th December 1910 in Warsaw. In fact, he spoke Polish better than Yiddish. He was brought up in a rather progressive family… How to say that?

He knew more and was more religious than myself. Because his family, though seemingly assimilated, cared more about religion than mine. They were rather poor.

He completed the Wawelberg college before the war, it was a very good  school for mechanics (which proved useful to him during the war). He worked as a mechanic, then he moved to a textile plant where he worked as accountant.

They lived in Warsaw at Leszno Street. It was such a large apartment that if the phone rang in the anteroom, they were seldom in time from the living room to pick it up. I don’t know why they didn’t install the phone in the living room.

My husband had three sisters, all younger than him. The first sister, Emilia Mass, completed a gymnasium run by nuns. And by mistake, when filling out the graduation certificates, instead of ‘Mosaic denomination,’ they wrote ‘Roman-Catholic.’

She didn’t continue her studies, she started working as a seamstress. Her name after the war was Helena Marganiec. It’s an interesting story. Under her own name, as Emilia Mass, she was pulled out of the Warsaw ghetto 16. And she was caught by the Germans in a street round-up.

And when she sat in a cell waiting whether they’d send her to Germany for forced labor 17 or anything else, she sat with a Polish woman. And that woman cried that she wanted to go to Germany so much, that she’d have it good there, but she had epilepsy and they wouldn’t let her.

So they swapped their papers. That woman went to Germany as Emilia Mass, and my husband’s sister became Helena Marganiec.

The second sister, Marysia – my younger daughter is her namesake – studied in Warsaw and became a bacteriologist. She was murdered in Bialystok. When the Germans entered [in 1941], they didn’t look at who was Jewish and who wasn’t but killed everyone at the hospital – doctors, everyone – and her too.

And the youngest one, Wanda Mass, she started her studies before the war but earned her psychology degree only after the war. She left the ghetto using the same ID as her elder sister. And she became Emilia.

Mass they changed to Majewska, so Emilia Wanda Majewska. The oldest one and the youngest one survived. On the Aryan side, thanks to Wladzia. Our Polish ‘sister-in-law.’ She pulled her out of the ghetto, but she wasn’t in time to pull out the parents.

They spoke poor Polish, so they would have been conspicuous anyway. But she tried. But the mother had been taken to Treblinka 18 and the father didn’t want to leave the ghetto, wanted to join his wife. So my husband’s parents both died.

My husband believed that the eldest one, Emilia-Helena, had survived. She had brown hair and didn’t look like a Jewess, plus that Roman-Catholic school diploma… Yet the second one survived too, thanks to a Pole, and he didn’t know that.

They survived the war and neither married, they lived all together and were happy. At first they lived in Gliwice [industrial city in the Upper Silesia region, 300 km south-west of Warsaw], then the younger one got a job as teacher in Warsaw.

They found a burned-out house at Narbutta Street in Warsaw, took a part of an apartment they renovated with our help, and moved in there. And after they had renovated it, the pre-war housing cooperative showed up and took over the house.

  • After the war

I remember, in Ukraine, there was a loudspeaker in every house, always on. And suddenly, at three in the morning, Stalin spoke. He said an agreement had been signed, the war was over.

When the war was over, the whole village took to the streets. At first we drank moonshine, because that was all they had. From three in the morning to twelve noon I drank moonshine.

At twelve noon the moonshine ended, they started drinking beer. I don’t like beer… So I said to myself, ‘Anka, you’re drunk, go to sleep.’ God! How much we drank then! Everyone with everyone. Ukrainians, Russians, Jews, refugees… People were kissing each other and drinking on the street. The war was over. Wasn’t it? That was joy.

But they didn’t let us go just then. We left only the following year, 1946. They said if you couldn’t prove you were Polish, you couldn’t go. And they had taken whatever IDs we had. Only I had hidden the medical insurance ID.

When I showed it to them, I though they’d kill me [out of wrath]. The NKVD 19, I mean. But they couldn’t do anything. And so we returned home. They sent us to Lower Silesia 20, to Rychbach…

Originally the town had a different name, then it was called Rychbach, and eventually it was renamed to Dzierzoniow. To honor Dzerzhinsky. [Editor’s note: contrary to what Mrs. Mass believes, it was called so to honor Jan Dzierzon (1811-1906), the parish priest of the church of Karlowice, Europe’s most outstanding apiculturist of the time].

Very many Jews had come from the Soviet Union, and [Dzierzoniow] was full of them. My husband worked in a textile plant. Then he started working with my father as a watchmaker.

My father was a member of the Bund but when the Bund merged with the PZPR 21, he didn’t join. In 1948, when Israel was founded, many Jews started leaving. In 1949, his sisters brought my husband to Warsaw and he started working in the accounting department of the Office of the Council of Ministers [URM].

In 1950, we [Mrs. Mass with her daughters and then her father] moved to Warsaw. My husband wasn’t a party member, but he managed to get a job at the Office of the Council of Ministers. We lived in the Zoliborz neighborhood.

Then we moved to our second apartment, and then here [Mrs. Mass’s present dwelling place]. For a short time in 1968, during the anti-Semitic campaign 22, my husband left the URM and worked at the Measures and Weights Office on Filtrowa.

He spent perhaps a year there, and then they brought him back to the URM. My father, in turn, upon coming to Warsaw didn’t have a job for a year. The doctor said it wasn’t Parkinson [Parkinson’s disease] but his hands and the head slightly too were shaking.

And no one wanted to give him a job, because what kind of a watchmaker are you when your hands are shaking. Eventually, a certain jeweler gave him a job as watchmaker, and he worked there almost until his death.

He was active until the very end at the TSKZ 23. When my father died, on 30th December 1959, and I notified them, no one came for the funeral. No one from the TSKZ was present. I felt a bit sad, I thought: he was such an activist and all…

Me and my husband got married after returning to Poland. And a daughter was already on the way. I believed we should have four children. Because if my husband’s sisters have no kids, I should have more, but my husband didn’t want to.

I had light deliveries, could go on. But my husband worked, and I didn’t. He provided for us. That’s how it looked. I have two daughters, Irena and Marysia, and three grandchildren. Irena was born 30th October 1946, and Marysia 18th April 1949.

When I was pregnant with my second daughter – in Dzierzoniow, after the war – one of the tenants in our house was a young man who was a shochet and also made circumcisions for the whole Wroclaw province. And he asks me, ‘What will you do if it’s a son?’ And I say, ‘There’ll be no circumcision.’ The war taught us that it’s a distinguishing mark.

If I lived in Israel, among Jews – yes. But here – no. How many Jews on the Aryan side died, perished because of that? I thought his eyes would pop out, so angry he was at me for saying that. Well, but I delivered a daughter and the case was closed.

Irena completed a high school, and Marysia has a law degree from the Warsaw University. And she has also recently completed a two-year psychology course. Irena is a healer and works three times a week in her son’s shop.

Marysia held a directorial position at the bank PKO SA [one of the biggest banks in Poland], and today she’s retired and she’s involved in… things of beauty, her latest hobby are watercolors. Irena has one son, Radoslaw Adam Zabawa.

He was born in 1978. He runs a store called Fraida where you can buy all kinds of New Age stuff, for healers, and so on. He completed a high school but didn’t want to take the graduation exams. Marysia has two kids, Katarzyna Liwia Bucyk, born in 1977, and Marek Winicjusz Bucyk, born in 1981.

My whole family perished. Some cousin of my father’s from Przedborz had survived, he was looking for relatives through press ads after the war. But when he came to Poland in 1946 and got hold of that newspaper, it was already a year old.

He was no longer there. Whether he left to America or somewhere else, I don’t know. All the others perished, friends, relatives, everyone. In Lublin we were on friendly terms with the caretaker of our house. He helped my mother in the ghetto, brought her food, and so on.

So after the war I wrote to the Lublin city hall to ask about my family, and stated his name as the person who might know something. It turned out he had landed in Gdansk. He didn’t write us, but they sent us his testimony that my mother and sister had gone to Majdanek 24.

After some time it turned out it wasn’t Majdanek but Belzec. I learned from a distant [maternal] cousin of mine who had survived the war in Lublin. He was given shelter to by a Polish woman whom he later married, he changed his name from Rot to Rotkowski.

He came to Dzierzoniow and I met him. I don’t know whether he later broke off any ties with us because he didn’t want his children to know he was Jewish? Or wasn’t there enough enthusiasm from my side?

In any case, I know nothing more about that this sole, distant cousin who survived the war in Poland. I survived only because my mother wanted me to go and search for my father. Had I stayed at home, I’d have faced the same fate as all others.

My sister didn’t have Semitic looks, could have survived, but she didn’t want to leave our mother. I don’t return to that these days, I didn’t even tell my children much. I didn’t want them to share my pain. I didn’t want them to experience all that. Telling the story, I’d be conveying the emotions.

My daughters knew from the very beginning they were Jewish, we never made it a secret, and also my grandchildren know they are half-blood Jews. Or even full-blood ones according to Israeli laws, because their mothers are Jewish.

My elder grandson feels half-Jewish, half-Polish. My younger daughter’s children don’t feel Jewish, but my granddaughter told her boyfriend she had Jewish roots. He said to that his roots were Romany.

Marysia got married, took a civil marriage, and changed her religion for the father-in-law. She didn’t even tell us. She knew I wouldn’t react,  but that her father would be angry. I learned only after my husband’s death. The grandchildren have all been baptized. Even Irena’s daughter. She baptized him so that he’s no different from the other kids at school.

After the war I completely accidentally ran into Frajnd, my pre-war friend from Lublin, two years younger than me. He left in the 1950s, in the early days of Israel. He left with his two kids. So he had a hard life there. And because he’s a textile plant worker by profession, he eventually got a job at a plant and his life changed for the better.

After he left for Israel, we lost contact, my husband worked for the government, couldn’t show he had any contacts with Israel. We had no relatives there, there was no one to write to.

I’ve never joined at Zionist organization. I really wish Israel the best, because it’s the Jewish state. But I believe you can’t come after two thousand years and say: this is my land. We see what’s going on there. I don’t know who’s to blame, the Jews or the Arabs. It’s certainly both.

But a nation that suffered the worst moments because of racial discrimination should not treat other people like that. There was a time, after the war, when there was talk of us emigrating to Israel. But my husband’s sisters lived with that quasi-sister-in-law of theirs and didn’t want to leave her.

And my husband didn’t want to leave his sisters. Then we could go to Australia, we even received the immigrant visa promises. But it was the same story: they didn’t want to go. We gave our children, already grown-up then, a free hand.

If you want to go, go. But then they didn’t want to go to a strange country. And so we stayed in Poland. Is it good or bad? Hard to say. I manage, my daughters manage too, don’t they? So I don’t complain.

Young people today have no idea what communism was about, they only want to hear about the empty store shelves. But everyone had a job. ‘Do or don’t, it’s two thousand every month.’

Everyone had an apartment, you got it for free. I had a month’s summer leave, went on vacation. As a non-working mother with two children. Only they didn’t let us go abroad. Jews weren’t allowed to go abroad.

My husband worked at the Office of the Council of Ministers, and if he’s a Jew, then certainly a Zionist. But he never joined the party. People believe today that it was Solidarity 25 that restored capitalism in Poland. Solidarity wanted communism with a human face. ‘Socialism yes, distortions no.’ And young people today are for what’s happening, and the old are against it. But we’re passing away anyway.

I’m already old, I’ll be 85 in February 2006! Isn’t that old? I’m also a war veteran today for spending all those years in the Soviet Union. I’m not one of the Children of the Holocaust 26, I was grown-up.

Though I was lazy all my life, I never had time to yield to laziness. At first I studied, then I went to work, worked with the crochet, knitted. You made a shawl collar, kimono sleeves – a dressing gown.

A great lady, upon getting up from bed or when she was sick, put on a dressing gown. The material cost me two zlotys, and I put that into a shop for ten. And I kept doing something.

If I had any free time, I liked to read. Then there was my husband to take care of, the house… Now that I’ve been left alone I no longer have to do anything, I will prepare food for several days in advance, won’t I? I haven’t had to clean either now that I don’t have a dog anymore.

I’ll vacuum clean once a week. So I can finally indulge in laziness. I have the right to do that now, haven’t I?

We spent almost fifty years together with my husband and we lived in harmony. He really was a good man, my father was right. My intuition that he’d be my husband proved true. My husband died twelve years ago [1993].

Even Jews who never experienced the war don’t realize what it means to lose not only your relatives and friends but to lose the whole Jewish-Polish folklore. Russian Jews are different, Israel is completely different, America is different. There’ll be no Jewish folklore in Poland anymore. Never. And this ‘never’ literally sits deep in my heart and hurts me.

Recipes:

For Whitsunday [Shavuot] you made a cheesecake. Around June. Take half kilogram of cottage cheese, a quarter kilogram of butter, mince. Add half glass of sugar, some aroma, whisk in an egg… Heat up slowly until the mixture boils. When it does, it becomes transparent. You take it off the heat, and for half kilogram add a spoon of either potato flour or pudding with a little bit of water, and put it away for a moment to thicken. Then you line up the form with butter cookies, pour in the cheese mixture, and put away. After it has chilled, you put in a fridge.

And for many years, as long as my father lived, I had gefilte fish on Saturday. Of vegetables, you take: a bit of parsley, a lot of carrot, and even more onion. At least a tablespoon of sugar per one kilogram of fish. A lot of pepper. Fish should be relatively salty, sweet, and peppery. You hash raw fish with onion. For a kilogram of fish, two or three eggs, to hold it all together. We also added matzah floor. And you cook it. I make compressed balls and put them into boiling water with vegetables. Fish should cook for two hours. No one mixes fish with a spoon. You shake the pot lightly. When it’s cooked, you take the fish out carefully and leave the sauce. It will turn into aspic automatically if you’ve added carp’s head. Carp’s head is the Jewish treasure. At home, everyone fought for the head. It’s fatter and better than any other part.

But when Grandmother prepared meat, it was the Jewish way. There was a wooden box, with walls, legs, and a groove for the juice to trickle. After washing the meat, you salt it thoroughly from six sides and put away for two hours. Then you rinse it and only then cook. Whether my mother did it like that, I don’t remember, but my grandmother certainly did.

It was worse when she prepared liver. First she salted it well, then – we had a coal stove – she put it on the coals to roast, so that there was no blood, and only then started to fry. As a result, liver was always tough. But good. Salty, good. And tough – well, what could you do. That was the way they prepared it.

My mother prepared all kinds of things. Goose necks. Mince flour with poultry fat, add salt and pepper, stuff the neck with it and cook in broth. Yummy! Or sweet rice. Cooked with raisins or apples, with eggs, and casseroled. Cooked noodles, mixed with eggs, layered with fruit like a layer cake, and baked sweet. When my mother made something like that and I took it to work, I had to take a really large chunk because all my colleagues wanted me to treat them. Because it was really very good.

Dumplings with matzah flour. To serve four, you take half a liter of water, four eggs, some chopped onion fried on poultry fat, add salt and pepper to taste, and matzah flour about a cup, a cup and half. This is at first rather runny, but after it has stood for some time with the matzah flour, it gets thicker and you can form dumplings. I also add a pinch of baking soda. You cook it in salted water, and then pour broth over it. This is an Easter dish.

My mother also made potatoes to accompany chicken soup. Potato pancakes. You make it like that: one mid-sized potato per person and one eggs per person. You mix the cooked potato with the egg, salt, pepper, to taste of course, add a beaten egg white, and fry the pancakes on fat. Then you pour chicken soup over it. This is an elegant potato dish for a festive chicken soup, not for Easter, but for Sabbath.

My mother also made a buckwheat groats pie. She certainly made it with rough puff pastry. She cooked the groats beforehand. Then she roasted them with onion. That she baked and cut into pieces, and it didn’t fall apart, it held together, so I guess she added eggs. It was quite good.

Chopped liver with egg and onion, fried liver of course, always with chicken fat, very good. Kidney beans cooked and then minced – to hull it – in a mincer, and then with egg and onion, also other things. Those were the appetizers, my mother made them. Sometimes she fried a piece of meat, because my father could abstain from eating for the whole day but dinner had to be with all the supplements, an hors d’oeuvre, and dessert.

You made all kinds of things. My mother made something that today would be regarded as a poor man’s dish. If she had any stale bread or challah, she cut it into pieces, poured boiling water over it, added salt and a piece of butter. That’s a kind of poor man’s soup. For me, it was great. Not because she made it out of poverty, she simply had various uses for that stale bread. And war taught me that you never throw bread away.

My grandmother made borsht. She never cooked it with raw beets, but always pickled them first. And she didn’t season it – as the Poles do – with cream, but with egg yolks. Cream was forbidden because that would have made the soup a dairy dish. That borsht was like wine. My mother always said, ‘Mum, how many yolks have you added?’ ‘Not many, only two!’ came the answer. Eggs used to be cheap. For three eggs you could buy a pack of cigarettes.

The best thing was matzebrei, my daughters like it to this day. Matzebrei means ‘fried matzah’ in German [editor’s note: actually ‘matzah mash’]. I make a lot of onion with fat, chicken fat is the best, goose fat as a last resort, you have to brown the onion a bit, so that it gives off the scent. You add soaked, broken matzah, fry it a little so that the matzah absorbs the salt, pepper and fat, then you add an egg, mix it all, and you have a delicious dish.

We made cholent, the classic one, with kishke. My mother peeled the potatoes, onion was added too, of course. Salt, pepper to taste. You bought beef intestine by the meter, with suet on the surface. My mother stuffed the intestine with flour, salt, and pepper, and – stuffing – turned the suet side inside. She sewed up the ends. Then she scalded it again and cleaned thoroughly. That intestine went on the top, on the potatoes, you wrapped the pot with rags, newspapers, whatever, to make it tight. In the Jewish quarter you took the pot to a baker, to a bread oven, but we had a stove with an oven of its own. You put the pot into a hot oven and on Sabbath you took it out, and you had regular cholent. Crisp brown kishke and crisp potatoes. That was Jewish cholent, our own. But when I lived in Warsaw, my sister-in-law made it differently. Hulled barley, fat flat rib, kidney beans, and potatoes. Simmer the meat with the beans and the barley, so as to boil away almost all water. Add raw potatoes, salt, pepper, onion, of course, then wrap it up tightly and put into an oven, on a very low heat, 100 degrees Celsius, no more. It roasts for a whole day, then another – I turn the heat off for the night just in case – and on the third day the guests come and eat. As my birthday falls in February, when it’s cold – I won’t be making in the summer – I make cholent in the winter. For my birthday guests. They love it.

GLOSSARY:

1 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 Menshevik 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.

2 Polish Socialist Party (PPS), founded in 1892, its reach extended throughout the Kingdom of Poland and abroad, and it proclaimed slogans advocating the reclamation by Poland of its sovereignty

It was a party that comprised many currents and had room for activists of varied views and from a range of social backgrounds. During the revolutionary period in 1905-07 it was one of the key political forces; it directed strikes, organized labor unions, and conducted armed campaigns. It was also during this period that it developed into a party of mass reach (towards the end of 1906 it had some 55,000 members). After 1918 the PPS came out in support of the parliamentary system, and advocated the need to ensure that Poland guaranteed of freedom and civil rights, division of the churches (religious communities) and the state, and territorial and cultural autonomy for ethnic minorities; and it defended the rights of hired laborers. The PPS supported the policy of the head of state, Józef Pilsudski. It had seats in the first government of the Republic, but from 1921 was in opposition. In 1918-30 the main opponents of the PPS were the National Democrats [ND] and the communist movement. In the 1930s the state authorities’ repression of PPS activists and the reduced activity of working-class and intellectual political circles eroded the power of the PPS (in 1933 it numbered barely 15,000 members) and caused the radicalization of some of its leaders and party members. During World War II the PPS was formally dissolved, and some of its leaders created the Polish Socialist Party – Liberty, Equality, Independence (PPS-WRN), which was a member of the coalition supporting the Polish government in exile and the institutions of the Polish Underground State. In 1946-48 many members of PPS-WRN left the country or were arrested and sentenced in political trials. In December 1948 PPS activists collaborating with the PPR consented to the two parties merging on the PPR’s terms. In 1987 the PPS resumed its activities. The party currently numbers a few thousand members.

3 Pilsudski, Józef (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 in the Royal Castle in Cracow.

4 Bereza Kartuska

a town in Belarus which used to be on the Polish territory before the war. Polish authorities established an internment camp there in 1934. By the decree of the President of the Polish Republic in reference to persons who constitute a threat to public safety and peace, suspects could be held there without trial, only by administrative order, for a period of three months, which could then be extended by another three months. The first prisoners were members of the nationalist Polish organization Obóz Narodowo-Radykalny, ONR, suspected of having organized the assassination of the minister of internal affairs, Bronislaw Pieracki. The prisoners of Bereza were mostly members of radical political organizations: communists, Ukrainian nationalists, ONR members. The conditions in Bereza were very harsh, the prisoners were tortured.

5 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.

6 ONR – Obóz Narodowo-Radykalny (Radical Nationalist Camp)

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.

7 Nozyk Synagogue

The only synagogue in Warsaw not destroyed during World War II or shortly afterwards. Built at the beginning of the 20th century from a foundation set up by a couple called Nozyk, it serves the Warsaw Jewish Community as a house of prayer today. The Nozyk Synagogue is near Grzybowskiego Square, where the majority of Warsaw’s Jewish organizations and institutions are situated.

8 Prystor Decree

In pre-war Poland the issue of ritual slaughter (Heb. shechitah) was at the heart of a deep conflict between the Jewish community and Polish nationalist groups, which in 1936-1938 attempted to outlaw or restrict the practice of shechitah in the Sejm, the Polish parliament, citing humanitarian grounds and competition for Catholic butchers. In 1936 Janina Prystor, a deputy to the Sejm (and wife of Aleksander Prystor, 1874–1941, Polish prime minister 1931-1933), proposed a ban on shechitah, citing principles of Christian morality. This move had an overtly economic aim, which was to destroy the Jewish meat industry, which meant competition for Christian butchers. Prystor met with fierce resistance among Jewish circles in the Sejm. In the wake of a debate in the Sejm the government decided on a compromise, permitting shechitah only in areas where Jews made up more than 3% of the local population.

9 Judenrat

German for ‘Jewish council’. Administrative bodies the Germans ordered Jews to form in each ghetto in General Government (Nazi-occupied colony in the central part of Poland). These bodies where responsible for local government in the ghetto, and stood between the Nazis and the ghetto population. They were generally composed of leaders of the Jewish community. They were forced by the Nazis to provide Jews for use as slave laborers, and to assist in the deportation of Jews to extermination camps during the Holocaust.

10 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.

11 Anders’s Army

The Polish Armed Forces in the USSR, subsequently the Polish Army in the East, known as Anders’ Army: an operations unit of the Polish Armed Forces formed pursuant to the Polish-Soviet Pact of 30th July 1941 and the military agreement of 14th July 1941. It comprised Polish citizens who had been deported into the heart of the USSR: soldiers imprisoned in 1939-41 and civilians amnestied in 1941 (some 1.25-1.6m people, including a recruitment base of 100,000-150,000). The commander-in-chief of the Polish Armed Forces in the USSR was General Wladyslaw Anders. The army never reached its full quota (in February 1942 it numbered 48,000, and in March 1942 around 66,000). In terms of operations it was answerable to the Supreme Command of the Red Army, and in terms of organization and personnel to the Supreme Commander, General Wladyslaw Sikorski and the Polish government in exile. In March-April 1942 part of the Army (with Stalin’s consent) was sent to Iran (33,000 soldiers and approx. 10,000 civilians). The final evacuation took place in August-September 1942 pursuant to Soviet-British agreements concluded in July 1942 (it was the aim of General Anders and the British powers to withdraw Polish forces from the USSR); some 114,000 people, including 25,000 civilians (over 13,000 children) left the Soviet Union. The units that had been evacuated were merged with the Polish Army in the Middle East to form the Polish Army in the East, commanded by Anders.

12 Sikorski Wladyslaw (1881-1943)

a military and political leader, general. During WW I he fought with distinction in the Pilsudski’s Legions, then in the newly-created Polish Army during the Polish-Soviet War (1919 to 1921). Sikorski held government posts including prime minister (1922 to 1923) and minister of military affairs (1923 to 1924). He didn’t support Jozef Pilsudski after his May Coup (1926), he  fell out of favor with Polish authorities and was barred of the active military service. He was one of the co-founders of the Front Morges and the Work Party, the political movements opposing Pilsudski. During WW II he became Prime Minister of the Polish Government in Exile, Commander-in-Chief of the Polish Armed Forces, and a staunch advocate of the Polish cause on the diplomatic scene. Sikorski was killed in a plane crash into the sea immediately on takeoff from Gibraltar. The exact circumstances of his death remain in dispute, which has given rise to ongoing conspiracy theories.

13 Wasilewska, Wanda (1905-64)

From 1934-37 she was a member of the Supreme Council of the Polish Socialist Party (PPS). In 1940 she became a deputy to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR. From 1941-43 she was a political commissary in the Red Army and editor of ‘Nowe Widnokregi’. In 1943 she helped to organize the Union of Polish Patriots and the Polish armed forces in the USSR. In 1944 she became a member of the Central Bureau of Polish Communists in the USSR and vice-chairperson of the Polish Committee for National Liberation. After the war she remained in the USSR. Author of the social propaganda novels ‘Oblicze Dnia’ (The Face of the Day, 1934), ‘Ojczyzna’ (Fatherland, 1935) and ‘Ziemia w Jarzmie’ (Earth under the Yoke, 1938), and the war novel ‘Tecza’ (Rainbow, 1944).

14 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.

15 UPA – Ukrains’ka Povstans’ka Armiya, (Ukrainian Insurgent Army)

an Ukrainian independence military organization fighting between 1942 –1947 in Western Ukraine. The UPA was the military branch of the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists. At the end of 1943 and the beginning of 1944 the UPA had  40.000 members. At first it was led by R. Klachkivski, and from October 1943 by R. Shukhevych. The UPA created partisan units which fought the German army and the Soviet partisans and between Spring of 1943 and the beginning of 1945 led ethnic cleansing in the Volhynia, Polessia and Eastern Galicia regions in which ca. 100.000 of Poles were killed. After the Red Army entered these areas, the UPA led succesful sabotage actions against it. The UPA was crippled in Ukraine in April 1946 and in Poland in 1947.

16 Warsaw Ghetto

A separate residential district for Jews in Warsaw created over several months in 1940. On 16th November 1940 138,000 people were enclosed behind its walls. Over the following months the population of the ghetto increased as more people were relocated from the small towns surrounding the city. By March 1941 445,000 people were living in the ghetto. Subsequently, the number of the ghetto’s inhabitants began to fall sharply as a result of disease, hunger, deportation, persecution and liquidation. The ghetto was also systematically reduced in size. The internal administrative body was the Jewish Council (Judenrat). The Warsaw ghetto ceased to exist on 15th May 1943, when the Germans pronounced the failure of the uprising, staged by the Jewish soldiers, and razed the area to the ground.

17 Forced labor in Germany

from the beginning of the occupation German authorities in Poland kept recruiting Poles to work in Germany. At first only volunteers were sent to Germany, but because of insufficient interest, starting in the spring of 1940, people were forcefully sent: young people were getting orders to work in Germany, people were also caught on the streets. The status of forced workers was also given to POWs - privates and non-commissioned officers. This lasted until 1944. It is estimated that during the occupation about 2.8 million citizens of pre-war Poland were taken away to Germany. The work conditions varied greatly – the worst were in heavy industry plants, the best – on farms. Most depended on the personal attitude of the owner of a plant or a farm towards foreign workers. Being sent away to Germany for forced labor was dramatic, it  meant isolation and separation from one’s family, therefore Poles in Poland who were not employed in German facilities, often arranged false documents about such jobs, or went into hiding. Jews were not being sent to Germany to work, but some attempted to get there under a false name, since work in the Reich gave a chance of survival.

18 Treblinka

village in Poland’s Mazovia region, site of two camps. The first was a penal labor camp, established in 1941 and operating until 1944. The second, known as Treblinka II, functioned in the period 1942-43 and was a death camp. Prisoners in the former worked in Treblinka II. In the second camp a ramp and a mock-up of a railway station were built, which prevented the victims from realizing what awaited them until just in front of the entrance to the gas chamber. The camp covered an area of 13.5 hectares. It was bounded by a 3-m high barbed wire fence interwoven densely with pine branches to screen what was going on inside. The whole process of exterminating a transport from arrival in the camp to removal of the corpses from the gas chamber took around 2 hours. Several transports arrived daily. In the 13 months of the extermination camp’s existence the Germans gassed some 750,000-800,000 Jews. Those taken to Treblinka included Warsaw Jews during the Grossaktion [great liquidation campaign] in the Warsaw ghetto in the summer of 1942. As well as Polish Jews, Jews from Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, France, Greece, Yugoslavia and the USSR were also killed in Treblinka. In the spring of 1943 the Germans gradually began to liquidate the camp. On 2nd August 1943 an uprising broke out there with the aim of enabling some 200 people to escape. The majority died.

19 NKVD

(Russ.: Narodnyi Komissariat Vnutrennikh Del), People’s Committee of Internal Affairs, the supreme security authority in the USSR – the secret police. Founded by Lenin in 1917, it nevertheless played an insignificant role until 1934, when it took over the GPU (the State Political Administration), the political police. The NKVD had its own police and military formations, and also possessed the powers to pass sentence on political matters, and as such in practice had total control over society. Under Stalin’s rule the NKVD was the key instrument used to terrorize the civilian population. The NKVD ran a network of labor camps for millions of prisoners, the Gulag. The heads of the NKVD were as follows: Genrikh Yagoda (to 1936), Nikolai Yezhov (to 1938) and Lavrenti Beria. During the war against Germany the political police, the KGB, was spun off from the NKVD. After the war it also operated on USSR-occupied territories, including in Poland, where it assisted the nascent communist authorities in suppressing opposition. In 1946 the NKVD was renamed the Ministry of the Interior.

20 Jews settling in Lower Silesia after World War II

The Jews of the German province of Silesia either emigrated or were killed during the Nazi regime. In 1939 there were 15,480 Jews living in the region, most of whom perished during the war. A new influx of Jews began in 1945 after the region was incorporated into Poland. Of the 52,000 or so Jews that arrived there (mostly from Eastern Poland incorporated into the Soviet Union), 10,000 settled in Wroclaw (Breslau), others moved mainly to Legnica (Liegnitz), Dzierzoniow (Reichenbach) and Walbrzych (Waldenburg).

21 Polish United Workers’ Party (PZPR)

communist party formed in Poland in December 1948 by the fusion of the PPR (Polish Workers’ Party) and the PPS (Polish Socialist Party). Until 1989 it was the only party in the country; it held power, but was subordinate to the Soviet Union. After losing the elections in June 1989 it lost its monopoly. On 29th January 1990 the party was dissolved.

22 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..

23 TSKZ (Social and Cultural Society of Polish Jews)

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. However, it is primarily an organization of older people, who have been involved with it for years.

24 Majdanek concentration camp

situated five kilometers from the city center of Lublin, Poland, originally established as a labor camp in October 1941. It was officially called Prisoner of War Camp of the Waffen-SS Lublin until 16th February 1943, when the name was changed to Concentration Camp of the Waffen-SS Lublin. Unlike most other Nazi death camps, Majdanek, located in a completely open field, was not hidden from view. About 130,000 Jews were deported there during 1942-43 as part of the ‘Final Solution’. Initially there were two gas chambers housed in a wooden building, which were later replaced by gas chambers in a brick building. The estimated number of deaths is 360,000, including Jews, Soviets POWs and Poles. The camp was liquidated in July 1944, but by the time the Red Army arrived the camp was only partially destroyed. Although approximately 1,000 inmates were executed on a death march, the Red Army found thousand of prisoners still in the camp, an evidence of the mass murder that had occurred in Majdanek.

25 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 13th 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.

26 Children of the Holocaust Association

a social organization whose members were persecuted during the Nazi occupation due to their Jewish identity, and who were no more than 13 years old in 1939, or were born during the war. The Association was founded in 1991. It’s purpose is to provide mutual support (psychological assistance; help in searching for family members), and to educate the public. The group organizes seminars, publishes a bulletin as well as books (several volumes of memoirs: Children of the Holocaust Speak...) The Association has now almost 800 members; there are sections in Warsaw, Wroclaw, Cracow and Gdansk.  

Eugenia Abravenel

Eugenia Abravanel
Thessaloniki
Greece
Interviewer: Valia Kravva
Date of the interview: November 2005

My family name is Koumarianou. My paternal grandfather was called Kleanthis Koumarianos and he was born on the island of Andros, even though he lived with his wife in Constantinople [today Istanbul, Turkey] where he had eight children. My father too was born in Constantinople. My grandfather was a shareholder in the shipping line Aegaio. Because this was his profession, he traveled a lot through the Aegean to the Black Sea and Russia. 

Grandfather Kleanthis died in Constantinople, having injured his spinal cord after falling in the hold of the ship that was left open. I only knew him when I saw his picture on his coffin. He was a strange man. Afterwards, earlier than 1910, when I was born, my mother together with my uncles came to Athens. So I don’t remember my grandfather at all.

My paternal grandmother, Matroni Alexandrovna or Alexandrevna, met my grandfather Kleanthis in Russia. Her nickname was Mokia and she was Russian-born, from Nikolaev, near Odessa [today Ukraine]. I don’t remember a great deal because at the time children didn’t ask a lot of details. My grandmother became an orphan at a very young age. She didn’t know her father, who had died when her mother was pregnant, and she had an older brother. Her brother studied in a school in Odessa. 

One time, just before Easter, her mother, my great-grandmother, rented with a friend a carriage that would take them to Nikolaev, near the Black Sea. They were attacked, and both of them were killed by bandits, who tried to steal their money and jewelry. So my grandmother became an orphan at the age of three. 

Many years went by and the brigands were not caught, but later on they identified one of them by an ornate bottle he had which belonged to my grandfather. It was too late though because my grandmother left a complete orphan grew up among very religious families. She had a difficult childhood.

When my grandmother was sixteen she met my grandfather and they got married. I remember my grandmother from a portrait I have of her, with a big hat with feathers, European style. 

My maternal grandfather was called Dimitris Papadopoulos and was from Gallipoli in Thrace [today Turkey]. He was an Ottoman subject, and except Greek he knew Turkish and French and was appointed as an employee in a company named ‘Agents des Phares,’ responsible for the lighting of the lighthouses on the islands of the Aegean. Later on, in 1922, the islands of the Aegean became Greek. Originally, this was a private company, or maybe half-private. 

My grandfather was responsible for the islands of Lesbos, Lemnos and Aghios Efstratios and had to supervise the lighting of the Lighthouse on these islands. When a big ship reached one of the ports it had to pay certain dues, now paid to the Port Authorities. In Mytilene [today capital of Lesbos Island] my grandfather had three Turkish associates. They each had one lighthouse and were responsible for its lighting and maintenance. These three were Turks but spoke Greek, even though my grandfather spoke Turkish perfectly, since Gallipoli when he was born there, was Turkish. 

Grandfather Dimitris was doing very well financially. I remember that every month he came from the Ottoman Bank with a sealed and seamless purse. This purse had forty pieces in it, but I don’t remember if these were gold Sterling or some other coins. He would take a small Swiss knife out of his vest and cut open the string of the purse and empty its content in a bowl. I still remember the sound of the coins falling in it and him watching them fall. 

His wife was also from Gallipoli, was called Eugenia Pandermali or Pandermanli. The grandfather and grandmother on my mother’s side I remember very well because they lived with us in Athens where we stayed for many years before I went to school. Later on I remember them in Mytilene where my grandfather built a small house. Actually they both died in Mytilene, Grandfather Dimitris in 1926 and Grandmother Eugenia a few years after her husband. 

When my father was born in Constantinople around 1880, Greece was at war with Turkey. Like many other young Greeks, my father Christoforos went to the Greek consulate in Constantinople and volunteered to fight on the side of Greece. My father hadn’t told anyone at home that he was going to war. His mother was crying while preparing his clothes and asked him, ‘What do you need them for, my son, where are you going to go?’ He finally went and fought, and had a very difficult time. He left behind a diary for the days of 1897 1

The war ended with the defeat of the Greeks and because he could not return to Constantinople, he went to Egypt where one of his brothers, who was a pharmacist, lived. The war of 1897 became known as ‘the unlucky war.’ While my father was a soldier he kept a diary, and everyone knew him as ‘pen pusher.’ Except for Greek my father also knew Arabic and French perfectly. My father was a quiet and gentle man. 

As for his brothers, my uncle Stamatelos [Stamatis] went and settled in Abyssinia [today Ethiopia] where he married and Ethiopian. He was a carpenter and woodcarver in the palace of Haile Selassie [(1892-1975): Emperor of Ethiopia]. Once, I remember, a young man came and told us he was the son of Stamatelos Koumarianos. He was, of course, dark skinned but spoke Greek well. He brought us some presents made of ivory and after he left we never saw him again. 

Giorgos Manoussos, the husband of my aunt Efrossyni, was an important Salonican architect. Two of his household buildings made of red brick still exist in the Analipsi area. They belonged to his sister Dorothea and reached the sea. Aunt Dorina had adopted the illegitimate daughter of King Alexander of Serbia. He had an affair with a French artist, who lived here, but they had difficulties meeting each other. One of those two houses built by Uncle Giorgos became their meeting place. Every evening a car brought him and then left. The little girl we named Bebeka and her father gave her as a present a big plot of land at the corner of Petros Syndika and Queen Olga Street, where Uncle Giorgos had built a beautiful house. 

Aunt Dorothea had married Patroklos Antoniades, a civil engineer, who had a brother named Sophocles. Uncle Sophocles was a calligrapher and a sketch artist, initially with newspapers and later on in the Ministry of Naval Affairs, where diplomas were awarded. They also had a sister, Maria, who married in Germany. 

Their father was called Telemachos and was a medical doctor in the harem of Abdul Hamid [(1842-1918): 34th sultan of the Ottoman Empire]. He lived in an apartment for free, in ‘Katrian,’ a famous hotel in Constantinople. Everything was paid for him by the sultan and he had a carriage with two horses, but he was very wasteful. 

My mother, Stella Koumarianou, was born in Mytilene in 1890. My father and mother met in Mytilene. My grandfather’s brother was the family doctor of my mother’s family. There was ten years of age difference between the two of them. My mother was then very young, and when she turned 18, my uncle Nikolaos had them engaged without asking them. My mother, who was very shy, protested, ‘What does Christoforos look like? I don’t know him.’ Once, when they seated together, my father’s gun fell down – he had a gun since he had been in Egypt where everybody carried a gun – and my mother was very upset when the gun was dropped. 

My uncle Notis, my mother’s brother knew German and Italian. He had worked with a German called Richard Raibel. He had visited us in Mytilene with his wife. He was an admirer of Ancient Greek and knew Homer by heart. Uncle Notis represented many companies such as Michelin tires and Iris chocolates. The ION chocolates didn’t exist yet. Later on, Notis married Christina Klonaridou.

My parents were an endearing couple and I don’t remember my father even looking at my mother in a strict way. Couples were different at the time. Family members loved each other. Nowadays one hears things… Especially when we were young, we didn’t know what ‘No’ or ‘Don’t’ meant. My mother, on the other hand, was a mother to all the children in the neighborhood. She read fairytales to them, sang songs and advised them.

My father died six months after my mother, on 16th February 1960. Six months less nine days; he almost committed suicide. They were such a loving couple, a rare case. I mourned for both of them. They were very good parents, and had great understanding for their children. But I never cried as much as when I read my father’s diary, which he wrote for my mother, I was really sobbing. How much did he love her, how much did he suffer when his wife died, his companion in life, his angel in life. 

The truth is that whenever he went out in the garden he would bring her something, some small flower, a little mint. The way he loved her, and how he wanted to kill himself when she died, but he thought of the children… How they would suffer. 

Every day he would go to the cemetery. The women he met there said, ‘We have seen many men love their wives but none as much as Mr. Christoforos…’  And in his diary he wrote how he liked it when everybody left the cemetery, and in the quiet he could hear the birds sing for his beautiful Stella. 

I never saw them looking at each other with disrespect. And that’s why I thought that all couples are like them. Now, the things I hear… I think how we lived then and how it is now, how are the young children going to live…?!

I was born in 1910 in Egypt, in Cairo, and lived there until I was three years old. In the house we had branches of bananas and dates spread out on the floor. I remember it was a two-story house and on the top floor was my father’s office. I remember only the house, how one climbed up a curved staircase, the rooms. We also had a maid, Eleni, who came as my mother’s ‘dowry.’ She spoke enough Greek to be able to communicate. We ate at a rectangle table and there was a couch with a cover, and in the corner stood my mother’s piano. 

In Egypt, my father wrote for a Greek magazine called ‘Cosmos.’ He was in charge of cotton fields there, but my mother couldn’t stand the climate and we had to leave for Athens.

After Egypt we stayed in Athens for a while. I remember that my dad had brought from Germany balloons with a picture of Venizelos 2 on them. He had especially ordered them. He would fill them with gas and give them to us when the maid took us to Zapeion to give away to the other children as well.

We took the piano with us when we went to Athens but it got ruined when the storage room we kept it in was flooded, and all our things were ruined by mould. So the only thing that was left were the notes. These were inherited by my niece, but the piano’s loss was my mother’s regret.

In 1914, during World War I, my father had come to Salonica to visit his siblings and to supervise his business, and my mom with my brother went to Mytilene for the summer vacation. Suddenly a blockade took place because of the war and communication with the islands and the inland was broken. I was already in Mytilene, having been invited by my grandmother Eugenia, who loved me very much, and my uncle from Athens had taken me to her. 

So we were on the island at the outbreak of the war, and because of the blockade only a small boat named ‘Yperohi’ reached the island. Our house was the only one at the port, there were no other houses around us. Just coffee houses, hotels and oil cellars. 

I remember once – I must have been four or five years old – I decided to put a small rug on the balcony and lie down. I woke up because of the bombing and I saw a Turk who was wearing a fez 3 approach the boat and throwing the bomb inside the boat. I was so scared that I immediately disappeared. 

While in Mytilene my mother couldn’t get in touch with my father and the letters would come only every fortnight. Once, my mother Stella received a letter from my father saying that the next time the boat would come he would send a kilo of provisions that were not available in Mytilene. 

My mother was wondering how come my father could send such a package, and the man in the post office, Tassos Skourtelis, told her that her husband was just joking. My mother was disappointed but one day we saw Tassos running and shouting, ‘A package, you’ve got a package, Christoforos is coming home.’ When we opened it, it was like Pandora’s box: there were biscuits, matches, some coffee, sugar, rice – things that didn’t exist on the island.

The house in Mytilene was built by my grandfather Dimitris, when he was still a young man. The port didn’t exist yet. The plot of land he had bought was just sand. Later on they decided to make there the municipal garden, and when they put the cement our house became shorter. Our windows were 80 cm high from the road. It was a plain two-story house, and had four rooms on the top floor, three on the ground floor, a cellar and a wash room, a kitchen and a toilet. We also had a flower and tree garden, as well as a vegetable one. 

I stayed in Mytilene from the age of four until 1928. On 2nd September we left and on the 4th we reached Salonica. And since then I’ve never returned to the beautiful Mytilene. Ah, it was really beautiful on the island. I lie down in bed and I remember my unforgettable childhood there. We went to the countryside, jumped in the sea, went to the watermelon fields, put tobacco leaves on sticks. Five six summers in the island and they were the nicest summers of my life. An iron door separated us from my grandfather’s offices.

My brother Kleanthis was born in Mytilene in October 1911. He was fourteen months younger than me, and always a victim because he followed me faithfully in all my mischief. He graduated from the 12-grade school, the lyceum, and was trained as an accountant for a year in Salonica. During World War II he worked in the Telegraph Company. He got married twice. From his first marriage he had Elvina, with whom I am very close and she is living in Athens, from the second marriage he had Christoforos. 

I remember the school I went to in Mytilene, and two or three of my mother’s friends. We went together to parties, and we had a gramophone at home and listened to music. My mother and my uncle Notis had graduated from the French school. I remember that the kindergarten I went to on the island was in a private house, and a lady assembled a few children and taught them some Greek. 

In elementary school we did not have fire. I remember she used to take my cloak to get warm and I was very proud she wore mine. In Mytilene there were only nine grades for girls. There was no need for them to learn more. But for the boys there were 12 grades. 

When I graduated from the girl’s school, my mother wanted to send me to the gymnasium [high school] but to our misfortune the high school dean, Ioanis Olymbios, told my mother, ‘Are you crazy, Stella? Why do you want to send the girl there? What does she need more education for? We have two girls all in all and we do not know where to fit more. Never mind the fact that they continuously look at the boys. Girls don’t need high school education, Stella.’ As a result I only went to school for nine years.

We had three maids, Eleni, Katina and Yannoula. I taught Yannoula to read and write. And so she could write love letters to a sailor whom later on she married in Salonica.

My brother Kleanthis and I liked photography very much. We were young but devils. We did our own developing and printing and had our own studio. Our camera was square like a box, either Agfa or Kodak. When we came to Salonica we took a Kodak. We used to buy from Athens a special paper called zivaert. We had a dark room and melted the liquids, spread out the pictures on the lining with pins to dry. We photographed everything, scenery, and faces.

I remember when I was small in Mytilene they would illuminate a small electric lamp in the street. I remember that the whole island gathered to see it and how they cheered when they saw it. A small lamp the size of a candle and it impressed us tremendously. 

During Pangalos’s dictatorship 4 I was a student in Mytilene. They had us wear skirts, I remember, down to our ankle. If the parents had money they made clothes for their children, and if not they were outlaws just because they were poor. This didn’t happen only to the schoolchildren but also to women. I had taken a picture with my classmates in their school uniform down to the ankle. Title: ‘The sad schoolgirls.’

On the island we had dolls and played pantomime. Personally, I didn’t like dolls very much. My poor godfather had brought me a big porcelain doll from Germany. She could open and close her glass eyes and move her hands. She would be kept in her box under the bed and she would only come out when my friends came. They were crazy about the doll but I preferred playing in the garden. I doubt I played with her more than once. The children of our family friends came. 

During the catastrophe of Smyrna in 1922 5 I was twelve years old. We were in Mytilene then and were spending the summer vacation with Mother who had gone to the sea for swimming. Our father came with a two horse carriage and took us back speedily, and he was very worried. He says to us, ‘Come quickly because they will put the house under requisition and we will be left out.’ So we arrived and the coachman descended from the carriage to direct the horses on foot in Mytilene where there was such a crowd that he didn’t have a choice. A crowd of people, all of them falling down. 

We arrived at home and the place was full of people. Upstairs, downstairs. They had left us three rooms. We were better off and I remember we washed a big tank where we used to wash our laundry and cooked beans in it, and chick peas and vegetables to give to the people. I remember one could no longer see flowers or vegetables, but only people lying down. I remember one evening I was looking out and saw that the bay was full of people lying down, I cannot forget that scene. 

My grandfather had a lot of money. We did all we could to help. But these people had come with nothing. Boats arrived continuously to unload crowds and crowds of people with only a bundle of clothes. One had lost his mother, someone else his father. What can I tell you, it was terrible. There were so many people. Later on they moved them to some neighborhood. 

In 1928, when we came to Salonica, we couldn’t find a house to stay, so in the beginning we stayed with my grandmother. She lived at the corner of Chalkidikis and Gravias Street. After a while we found a house on Kretis Street. My mother went to see it with my aunt Efi. Even though at first it seemed very old to us, we stayed there temporarily, and rented it for six months. We finally stayed there for 20 years. 

It was a warm house, had upholstery and rubber floors and was long like a railway. First there was my room, after that the living room with a staircase that led downstairs, and then two more rooms, my mother’s and my brother’s. It was a two-story house, even though the downstairs part was used as a cellar. It had a very big kitchen like two rooms. Next to that the bathroom, a small storage room and a toilet. It seems they built it room after room. It also had a garden and a vegetable garden of 640 square meters. My father liked to take care of it and worked there often. We also were great animal lovers. We always kept pets, mostly cats. This area was called Exohes or Countryside.

Due to the fire that consumed Salonica’s center in 1917 6, my father’s restaurant and the cellar, where he kept provisions, burned. The room he rented in the old city didn’t burn, but the restaurant that stood by the seaside of the city did and with it all the goods that were kept there. As a result he had to start all over again. Here in Salonica he became the manager for the concentration of wheat in Langada and in Zaglivery. We didn’t ask him how much he made but we never lacked food. We didn’t ask too many things. In Mytilene, of course, we had three maids while here my mother was doing the cooking herself.

Before World War II, we had a gramophone in our house in Salonica. It was made by ‘His Master Voice,’ you know that label with the little dog listening to a gramophone. My father had brought it from Egypt. He had very nice records, many operas. Oh, beautiful things. And later everything was lost. The first nice record we bought was ‘Ramona.’ We, the children, wanted modern records because we were young, but my father didn’t want such records. And we had fights. I remember one day I took him to a small street to buy ‘Ramona,’ but the shop had only one record and that one was damaged. So even though it was damaged we bought it and listened to it with great joy.  

My father had a couple of records with Venizelos’s voice: ‘I can assure you that today’s crisis…’ . I remember that he had brought them from London. My father also listened to these records on the gramophone he had brought from Cairo. Otherwise we didn’t get involved with politics. At home there was no talk about politics, and Father didn’t go to coffee shops. He was a house cat. Maybe he discussed these matters with his friends. He read the newspaper ‘Makedonia’ 7 and Louvaris’s ‘Fos.’ He was one of our acquaintances and a royalist.

When we settled in Thessaloniki it was during September, the time of the International Fair 8, which must have started the year before, in 1927. In September 1928 we visited the fair, but most of all we visited the AGFA stand and examined the cameras. However, at another stand they convinced us to buy the KODAK model of the year. It came with a tripod so we could use delayed action shutter release and run and be in the picture as well. My brother Kleanthis created a dark room at home.

On the same day we moved, by mere but favorable coincidence, across us moved the family of Albertos Abravanel, who later became my brother-in-law. They were very sociable, outgoing and open hearted. I was then a young girl of 18. My mother started talking with Alberto and invited him to come and visit us. She was very outgoing too. 

The Abravanel family had eight children: Rafael, Alberto, Paul, Ino, Isidore, Mari Modiano, Leon and Solomon. We would see Alberto every day; either we met while shopping from mobile donkey merchants, or when we bought ice. He would always ask my mother why I didn’t go to their Saturday surprise parties, which they organized in their home together with his brothers. I was very timid. My mother had to push me to go, even though I was 18 and in my heart I wished to go. I could see them on the top floor of their house dancing, playing the piano etc. 

Carnival season [orthodox] was at hand, and I remember I disguised myself and wore a clown’s mask and went to their house. This is where we met. We all went to some dancing hall to have fun. At that time people used to stroll from one hall to the next, the notion of ‘reservation’ didn’t exist. The most popular dances were Charleston and foxtrot. This is how we met Leo and Ino. They knew Zermain, Alberto’s daughter, and her girlfriends and even though they too were disguised the boys could identify them. But not me since they didn’t know me. Throughout the night they tried and tried to identify me. I was the new face in their company. 

Alberto had dressed as a medical doctor. He wore a Republican hat and held a box with his medical tools, which contained chocolates in reality. I remember that after the ball was finished we entered a tramway wagon and he was fooling around, wanted to check the pulse of the passengers, telling them what was the disease they suffered from. To cure them he would give them a small chocolate. Some people laughed and took it as a joke, others were a bit afraid. 

Leo’s family was not very religious, maybe only his father and his brother Isidor was. They read the Bible [Old Testament] and went to the synagogue. My father-in-law had built a small synagogue at the end of Mitropoleos Street and Pavlou Mela. He was a religious man, my husband was not, though he was a believer. Leo was a fanatic Jew, but not a fanatic believer. Neither were the rest of his siblings. The older one, Raphael – the only one I didn’t meet – had gone to Spain during Franco’s regime and he was killed there; I suppose because he hid priests, rabbis. 

My mother wasn’t very religious, but she believed. In the meantime the love affair with Leo had grown, and when one of my mother’s friends informed her, you won’t believe what she said to me, ‘We know the family. Leo is a very nice man and often comes to our house. If you want to live with this man, we cannot tell you no. You decide.’ Neither did my father or brother say anything. I don’t know if you can believe it, nothing. We were from a different planet.

I remember another young neighbor in Thessaloniki, Erricos, who would calm down only near my mother. I remember that when Thessaloniki was bombarded by the Italians 9, the neighbors joked that it was Erricos’s doing. He was a very naughty child, and then my mother said, ‘Erricos would never do such a thing since Grandmother Stella lives here.’

Leo and I loved each other and had a very good time together. We didn’t think of what could happen in the future. We had a very nice company of friends and we had great fun when we met. He [Leo] would come to my house, my parents knew him, even though they didn’t at first know we had an affair. Maybe they did think something was going on, but my father and my brother never made a comment.

When my mother learned we had an affair she said, ‘My child, we know Leo and he is a very nice chap. It is you who is going to live with him, and we won’t interfere to tell you either yes or no. You are to decide. We do not care if he were a Jew and you a Christian. You will live with him.’ Neither did I hear my other relatives, uncles, grandparents say something. Only the landlady of our house said “Good, one more will become Christian”. But my mother did not speak, she laughed and did not speak, because the landlady was a nice woman and meant well. 

My husband’s family descended from Spain. In fact my father-in-law’s name is registered in a book in the synagogue of Toledo. I saw it with my own eyes when I visited Toledo with my niece several years ago. I entered a hall with mosaics and there was a bookstand with the name Jacques Abravanel. It was in Latin characters. I always had paper and pen with me so I could make notes on whatever I saw and be able to read them later in my old age. So I copied part of this text. During the reign of Isabella, the Catholic, one of my father-in-law’s ancestors, was Minister of Finance. So upon my return I asked Mari to go to Spain and find this synagogue. 

My husband’s family would speak Spanish very rarely – especially Isidor’s wife – they would speak in Greek between them. They never spoke in Spanish in order to keep something a secret from me. And Leo had learned to write in Greek very well. His father had sent him and his younger brother to study in Switzerland and they stayed there for many years. When they returned to Greece, they had forgotten their Greek. 

When they disembarked from the boat in Patras they went to a restaurant and couldn’t read the menu. They wanted eggs. So at first they spoke to the waiter in literate Greek asking for ‘oa’ [almost ancient] and he didn’t understand them. And then they started moving their hands like wings while making chicken sounds. 

During the occupation my mother undertook to teach Leo Greek. Sometimes Leo spoke with his parents in Spanish. Mari chose to speak Greek properly, she used to speak with a French accent. She sang operas very nicely. 

The ‘151’ 10, ‘Baron de Hirsch’ and ‘Campbell’ were Jewish neighborhoods. Poor neighborhoods, very needy people. I never went there, I only heard about them, especially ‘151,’ which was on Aghia Triada Street; I remember the girls that came from there and were my clients. They would come on Saturday when they received their weekly salary and would buy cosmetics, their face cream and their eau de cologne. 

The rich neighborhoods were situated beyond Markou Botsari Street, and area which was known as ‘countryside’ – Exohes in Greek. Many of the houses there were Jewish. We then considered this area as out of town, and it would reach up to the Votsi area. 

I remember that when we came from Mytilene, we could buy a house in Votsi quarter with the money we had, but it seemed very far away to us. I remember that I had gone only once to the Old City to a visit my sister-in-law Mari, who had an aunt there. One could only go there on foot because there was no tram connection. The tram would only reach Depo, even before one gets to the municipality building. There was also a line that would go through 25is Martiou [25th March Street] Harilaou, and Vassilissis Olgas. 

Most of the time, even up to the age of 20, we went by climbing the back of the tram ‘Scala Maria’ and traveled without paying. Why should we pay [the interviewee chuckles]. Until the ticket collector reached us, we would climb out on the stairs and hold on to the door knob. Then we would let go and jump down on the ground, and run to greet him. Follies, many follies. We played ‘cherki,’ ‘snail’ [something like hopscotch with stones] and ‘pendovolo’ [with five stones].

I remember the seaside road reached all the way up to Antheon Street, back then it was called Georgiou Papandreou. Whatever construction waste was there would be thrown away to the shore. I remember we intended to buy a plot of land on Gravias Street, which was then a ship courtyard. Back then, if one wanted to take a walk by the seaside the only way was towards Nikis Avenue. All the brothels were in the Vardari area, and so were the whole sellers. It wasn’t a well reputed area. In what is today the Ladadika there were also wholesale commercial houses. 

There were refugee neighborhoods in Constandinopolitika, beyond Harilaou. I was never there. The 3E 11 set the Campbell neighborhood on fire 12. It was a nationalist organization. I remember that people were very upset after that. Thessaloniki had so many Jewish schools as well as synagogues. They were all destroyed during the German occupation. The people would travel by tram; there were very few cars until the war. My family didn’t own a car. Leo bought one only after the war.

The Jewish cemetery 13 was where the university is today. The Germans ruined all the graves. I used to have a nice picture of my mother-in-law’s grave. A nice marble grave and all around it the children and their brides standing at the grave, looking sad. I think I gave this picture to Nelly Sephiha as a gift. 

Famous ballrooms at this time were the ‘Olympus Naussa’ by the seaside and ‘Remvi’ out of town. We went there with Leo. We could sit outside in the summer. There was music and we used to dance. The two of us went to ‘Remvi’ in the beginning. Afterwards the company grew. I remember that in ‘Flokaki’ there were performances by Domenico de Thomas. He was an Italian and we went to listen to him. 

Other ballrooms were the ‘Luxembourg’ and the ‘Phare’ near the Allatini flower mill. They served delicious fried muscles; I’ve never eaten any quite as tasty anywhere since. In ‘Luxembourg’ we danced foxtrot, tango and Charleston. Leo was an excellent dancer, and so was Solon Sevi. Ah the poor one, he was lost for no reason.

I remember the lighters [type of boat] carrying wheat at the Allatini mills 14. We would get on the boat and take a ride from Koromila Street to the Mills. There we would jump in the sea, swim and climb up the lighters and dance there. Oh what follies we would do there. There the wheat was grounded and the flour was given to the bakeries.

I cannot say there were no differences between Christians and Jews before the war. There are always differences. Rumors had it, even in Mytilene, that during Easter a Christian boy would be missed, that the Jews slaughtered him and prepared matzot with his blood. I’ve heard of that rumor. I believe that someone who was mad at a Jew spread this rumor. Besides, an evil rumor is spread instantly, but never a good one. Luckily this rumor has disappeared now. 

I remember that when we were in Athens and the maid took me out on the balcony, she pointed at a field, where there was a wall and a man with a bag on his shoulder. The maid told me then, ‘Be careful, if you are not a good kid, the Jew will put you in his sack and into a barrel with nails and will roll you over and drink your blood.’ I remember I was very scared and cowered in a corner and didn’t make any trouble. This is what I remember; I was very young then, maybe four years old. 

With Leo and his friends, we went on many excursions. We had a big company. My brother and some of his friends had bought a big sailing boat. We went everywhere in the summer. We went to this beach towards Koromila innumerable times and knew it by heart. I was an excellent swimmer, I even competed with boys and won. I also ran fast. 

Peraia wasn’t known then, we showed it to the world. It is not a lie; our company used to rent a boat, some 45 people shared the cost. People from Salonica didn’t know Peraia, and there was no other way to communicate with the village. In Peraia there was only a ballroom called ‘Cote d’Azur,’ where we used to dance. We stayed there for many hours and the boat would take us back in the evening. All day we ate and danced in the ‘Cote d’Azur.’ 

One night the boat Poseidon didn’t show up. My brother and a friend, who later became his brother-in-law, Pavlos, came back in the early hours, with a carrier filled with watermelons and notified the port authorities, and in turn notified the owner of Poseidon, who came and picked us up. For his parents it was an agonizing wait. We usually returned at midnight, one o’clock at night, but not in the morning. 

We also went to the mountains, to Asvestohori, Peristera. We went on day trips.

Aunt Doudou, Leo’s aunt, had a house on Koromila Street. It was built upon a rock and one got the impression that half of it was built in the sea. The windows overlooking the sea were always closed because when the waves hit them the water would get inside the house. We had a ball there. Every summer we would gather in the house and would create a chaos. Watermelons, melons, bread and cheese. The nautical club was very near and we did whatever we wished. And my aunt was also there, where should she go? It was a small house. 

When we left, her complaint was that we simply left and afterwards didn’t ask her how she was doing. Not even her nephew. Only a friend of ours, Odysseus Papadakis, who took pictures, he was the photographer of our company, but also our tyrant until he had us posing, he was the only one who went to visit her. 

There was a lot of matchmaking going on among the people of our company, Christians and Jews, from various neighborhoods. I remember Sol Levi, poor one, he didn’t return [that is, didn’t survive the Holocaust]. I remember we used to tease him because he stuck his tongue out and we laughed. Pavlos Yiotaris. Then came Jackos Gabai, who used to call my parents Mom and Dad. He was a good friend of mine who did survive.

As a young girl I became a member of the YMCA, in the section exclusively reserved for women. I registered there for French language courses, decorating and photography, and assisted the Italian School. During that time I was appointed in the Third Army Corps as a secretary. I remember that the Ierissos earthquake took place at the time [in 1936] and we had to publish a news report. All this happened before the war. At the time, I was a typist in the army headquarters and was making good money. All my friends were unemployed. It is I who used to take them to the ‘Luxembourg’ ballroom by the seaside and to ‘Floka’s’ where Domenicos used to sing, as I mentioned before. 

I don’t know how Leo’ s family took our affair, maybe his sister was the only one who was surprised and didn’t wish it. I didn’t have any such reaction with the rest of his siblings. They welcomed me and spoke to me nicely, they defended me when I had disagreements with Leo – as every couple does – they always defended me. 

His father was very good person. His mother died of cancer shortly after I met Leo. I didn’t meet my mother-in-law, I only know her from her photograph. She had breast cancer and didn’t accept a nurse cleaning her wounds. She only allowed Leo to do it. She had a weak point for him. We lived a few years with his father, and I often went to Leo’s house to cook. Meantime they had left the old house and only Albertos, the second son, continued living there. 

Many Jews lived in Salonica at the time. I cannot say there were no arguments with the Christians, even today people cannot make peace. They say about the Albanians that they are all thieves, murderers, bad people. There are very good families that have settled here, they are not all evil. Unfortunately there is always a racial hatred among people. For me the three evils are fanatic priests, independently of religion, fanatic politicians of all parties, and money. These are the three world evils, at least in my opinion. 

I remember my father-in-law very well. I closed his eyes when he passed away. He was a very good man, and a good eater too. He had to watch his diet and he never did, that’s why his eyes were always red. When we had a shop in Aghia Triada, a Jew named Manuel had a grocery shop there. He went there and bought pickles and goodies and ate them secretly at the shop. 

My father-in-law had a picture showing him with his brother Haim, who was thin and short. Haim had two daughters, Sarina, and I don’t remember the name of the other girl. They left as a family, all of them, to the camps and didn’t return. Maybe they were Greek citizens, not Spanish. My father-in-law was a kingly man; we had a very good relationship. He died sometime just before the occupation. He lived in a house on Athanassiou Diakou Street, together with Aunt Doudou and her two children. 

Aunt Doudou taught me how to cook Jewish dishes, mainly sardines cleaned of bones, dipped in egg and fried in oil, beans with fried onions and Jewish meatballs made of leek and spinach, and of course lake fish, sazan [carp] which everyone cooks for Pesach, but also throughout the year. 

I also had vine leaves stuffed with rice and onions, spring onions and dry onions, dill and parsley. I prepared at least 150 pieces, because we had many big climbing vines, and plenty of grapes. 

Doudou taught me how to prepare carp in a ceramic pot covered with crushed walnuts and matzah. During that time we bought matzah from the mobile merchants in the street: they sold it in big pieces covered with a piece of cloth – nothing to do with the way matzot are sold today. You have to fry the fish, then place them on the matzah with the walnuts, cover them in the same way, then pour a good amount of oil over it and let it cook until the oil has disappeared. After that you had to put it in the refrigerator, or, before the war, into the ice-cupboard. 

Somebody passed by everyday selling ice and we usually bought one quarter. They used to divide every large piece of ice into four pieces. Of course there were some thieves. As was Manuel, whom I mentioned before, who used to divide it into five pieces. And he would say, ‘Never mind, I make more money this way.’

As long as Doudou lived she used to cook, then I cooked and I also cooked them Christian dishes. They didn’t say anything and ate them with pleasure. Except for the fish we also made ‘enhaminados’ eggs, which were put in water to boil with lots of onions and we added a little salt too. They had to boil on a low flame, or, like we did in the old days, when we cooked them slowly in the oven. I remember my niece Lilica used to tell me how in Israel they used to bake them in the oven. We liked these eggs, and often put them in salads. My father-in-law asked for those Jewish dishes. But he also ate others. He never complained; he was a very easy-going person.

As far as sweets go, I only learned the ‘toupischti,’ and my recipe was published by Fytrakis publishing house, and I even got a price. Mari had taught me this recipe when she stayed in my house. It was very tasty and very easy to make. I didn’t like preparing sweets, but I liked to eat them. I never made cookies or other sweets.

Leo was ten years older than me, he was born in 1900. He had gone with his father to Germany, to spas, and that is how he knew German. He had pimples then and a German doctor had given him an ointment, the recipe of a face cream. We started from that: he prepared this cream and distributed it to barbers at first, for men’s skin after shaving. As time went by we were successful with cosmetics and started making face creams for women too.

We started selling face creams together. At first we didn’t have a shop, and prepared them in the basement of our house and sold them from home. Later we asked for a permit from the Ministry of Hygiene. This happened between 1930 and 1932. I remember we sent some specimens and the permit – which we had to renew – was sent to us. Of course we also had to pay a Greek chemical engineer because the permit had to be issued in his name. 

I remember that we used to pay the income tax every week then. Barbalias, a tall man, came with his notebook and we gave him a hundred drachmas every week. We had a book for expenses and entries. After the war the income tax office charged Leo a fine of 75,000 drachmas. 

I remember it was when the Queen of England got married to Philip. My brother-in-law, Paul had rented a room in London, on the street where it would take place so he would be able to watch. We were supposed to go also, but our trip had to be cancelled because of the income tax fine. After that we went to court and they reduced it to 61,000 drachmas, but it was taken by the lawyer. So we neither got to see the royal wedding nor did we get the three-story house in Olgas for which we were negotiating. 

Afterwards, when we opened a shop on Aghia Triada Street, our business grew and we had many employees: Marika and Toula, Efharis, Kostas, and Iordanis in a workshop on Kapodistriou Street. Later on, in my shop, I had Rebecca, Nino and Alberto. There was a lot of work and I should not boast but I was the one who used to make everyone work. I had to guide them. I told them that work is different when one has to deal with two hundred or with five hundred pieces. So I used to manage the staff when we had a lot of pieces to produce. I was always in the shop. Later we opened a soap workshop, a small one, not a big factory. 

At the time we had Davico Beja, who later converted and became Christian under the name of Dimitris. He was very clever. One couldn’t find someone better in the world. He could turn a piece of shit into a jewel. He wasn’t an employee, he was a traveling salesman with a percentage. And he traveled everywhere. He bought face creams from our stores and sold them cheaper. It became known that Beja sold cheaper and in addition to the face cream he also sold other cosmetics. From those he made a profit. Finally we had to stop providing him with our face creams. 

After the war he came back broke. He left his watch to his uncle and borrowed from him 200 drachmas. With this money he did great and beat all his competitors. His first shop was a warehouse on Frangon Street. He was smart, he created things out of nothing. That is what one needs in commerce. The well-known ‘Bejas’ shops probably belong to his children. His children too were baptized Christians. His wife was a Christian, a very nice lady. Unfortunately I never met her. 

On Sundays she would visit the house in Harilaou, which my father bought so we could hide Leo, but finally he never hid there, so she could see her husband Dimitris or Mimis. He would hide there and managed to survive. He was so bright, so competent…

Leo, who was a Spanish citizen, didn’t have the right to vote and hadn’t fought in the Greek-Italian War. When the Germans entered Salonica in 1941 our life changed. We were all upset and had a bad feeling in our heart. After that things started to get more rigorous, Jews had to wear the star of David. Leo’s family wasn’t so scared because they had Spanish citizenship and the Germans were allies of the Spanish. 

At the time, we rented two rooms near the shop, because there was no transportation up to 25th March Street, where our house was. We rented two rooms in a Jewish house, which belonged to Jacques Levi, a doctor who was very old, almost blind. He lived there with his wife and their house was very big. Later when they deported everyone, his wife was already died, and blind as he was they took him on a carriage… 

After the star was introduced, they gathered people on Freedom Square [Eleutherias Square] 15 near the city center. These things we didn’t see, we only heard of them. They had them make exercises. Leo didn’t have to present himself because he was Spanish. Some time later they sent all the Jews to Poland, and only then did they send for the Spanish Jews. 

The Spanish citizens had remained in Thessaloniki, among them Leo and his family. His two brothers, Albertos and Isidor, went to the synagogue where all Spanish Jews had to present themselves under the pretext that the Germans wanted to speak to them. But Leo didn’t go, he went to the building across, where his dentist, Fanis Anagnostopoulos, was and from his window he could see what was happening. In the meantime, while many went to the synagogue with their own cars and others on foot, Leo suddenly saw they were driven away on trucks that the Germans had brought. 

I was at home, in the two rooms we had rented, and suddenly my father came and started telling me what had happened in the synagogue. In the meantime Leo had left the dentist’s place and gone straight to my father’s house. My father reassured me that Leo was with him. 

In my neighborhood, which was between Aghia Triada and Fleming, it became known that the Germans had caught the Spanish Jews. The neighbors knew we were Spanish and started bulging into the house, taking this and that. There were many doors and verandas. I would scream at them ‘Wait, we are not leaving!’ In the meantime, my father came, he closed the doors, and in that way we saved certain things. 

The people probably thought: ‘Since you are going to leave only with a bunch of clothes and the furniture will stay behind, why should the Germans take it.’ I don’t blame them on account of the looting, partly they were right. Meanwhile the Germans had requisitioned one room in the house of Jacques Levi – after he left for the camp – and Leo and I were still staying in the other room. 

The German who stayed in our house – he was a carpenter – knew that Leo was a Spaniard, but not that he was a Jew. Maybe he was suspicious of that. I remember that in a neighboring small house, also requisitioned by the Gestapo, lived another Jewish family with its children that didn’t return – there too lived an Austrian or German. A good one. He was a painter, may have painted my house close to ten times, and he also gave me as a gift a painting with a boat in the sea. The carpenter fixed and mended whatever was broken. 

Individually we maintained a certain friendship with certain Germans, and they gave us a lot of things. Leo knew German and they spoke with him. Some showed us pictures of their children. Whenever they heard shooting outside their house by Gestapo men, they would freeze and become different people. They were terrified of each other. They were afraid that their friend would denounce them of treason. They were terrified of their own friend. That is how Hitler strengthened his power, which was based on traitors. One would fear the other.

Leo couldn’t stay at home any longer when they kicked out the Spanish Jews, because he was afraid that someone in the neighborhood would betray him. No one of course had threatened us in the open, until the very end no one did. Maybe because my mother was a very lovable person, and so was my father. My family didn’t have close relations with any one. It was a good neighborhood. 

I cannot say we had great difficulties during the occupation, even though there were things that were missing. But we kept on working – especially with the cosmetic products – which were very much in demand, especially in the countryside. We continued and I later even did so on my own when Leo was hiding in Athens. I sold face creams, colognes, perfumes and they gave me wheat, barley, corn and beans in return. Those I sold or distributed to people I knew. I never took money, everything was done by barter, and I only took money from certain clients. I bought the required material for the preparation of cosmetics. 

We lived conventionally, we only cared to go through the day. One couldn’t plan for the day after. Once I mixed certain products with paraffin oil and gave it to a German in exchange for olive oil. One should not get the impression that there was no hunger and shortages: I remember a young lad dying in front of me from hunger. We ran to assist him, and when he passed away we all continued our life… Seeing carriages with corpses was a common sight.

In the meantime, Leo had to leave Salonica. At first he had to hide in the villages of Aghia Triada. My brother knew a boatman whom they called ‘black,’ because he was very dark. So Leo went to Aghia Triada and there he rented a room. He spoke German, went openly to coffee shops and the Germans didn’t know he was a Jew. On the other hand the peasants watched him speaking German with the Germans and thought that he may be a German spy and they brought him figs and grapes so he would not turn them in to the Germans. He was scared. 

Leo was audacious. Once we went on a boat to take a ride to the big Karabournou. We never reached it. In the meantime it became dark and there was a blackout. The peasants got worried. We were still somewhere in the Thermaic Gulf, and to think that all we wanted to do is take a ride.

I had two Armenian girlfriends, who were acquainted with the Italian consulate, Rosel and Meliné, and they told us that if we gave a sum of money to the Italians – I don’t know who took the money in the end – he [Leo] could go to Athens which was under Italian occupation, and the Germans hadn’t reached it. Indeed, one day they called on Leo and handcuffed they took him out of the Italian consulate and to the train station. On the train to Platamon they took of the handcuffs and told him he was free. We considered the Italians our friends not enemies: ‘Una faccia una razza’ [Italian proverb commonly used in Greek, meaning ‘one face, one race’].

This is how we moved to Athens, to Nea Ionia. We were led there by a woman who agreed being promised a loaf of bread as a reward. But when we finally went there I also gave her beans and wheat. She was overwhelmed with happiness. There was serious hunger in Athens. Almost every week I had to bring them food provisions from Salonica. 

It was in Athens where the two brothers of Leo were hidden. This is where they accidentally met in the street. At first Leo stayed in the house of an uncle of mine called Notis Papadopoulos. His wife, Christina Klonaridi, and he had a son called Mimis from Dimitris, which was his grandfather’s name. This child from the time he was four years old had a heart and kidney problem because of his tonsils. When this bad thing happened Mimis didn’t want to play, go to school, he couldn’t get excited or laugh. 

I went to visit them regularly to take provisions to them, but Leo had to leave from there because one evening a friend of my uncle’s came and said, ‘Quickly, Kostas has to leave this place.’ He had issued for him two false identity cards in the names of Nikos Raftopoulos and Kostas Mavromatis. The Raftopoulos one was real, it belonged to my aunt’s husband. The other one was issued from the 2nd Police Precinct of Salonica. It was a false name on a false identity card. They knew he was a Jew, but they wanted to help him. Many Jews issued false identity cards at the time. Someone who wanted to get back to my uncle, turned in Leo. Of course I was surprised because my uncle was a good person, a saint. It could be that it was a bad neighbor. 

A little while before the Germans showed up to blockade the area, my uncle’s friend came and told them to leave. I remember it was at night just before curfew time. Luckily the house had two doors, one good one and another one that led to a small passage that led to a small bridge that took you to Patission Street [the longest street in Athens]. So we both left in the dark, there was a blackout and there was no moonlight either. My husband held me, and we walked very slowly so that I wouldn’t fall into the river. That’s how we, step by step, got to the little bridge; it was the first time we took this road. It was completely deserted, not a soul on the road. 

Where should we go? Should we go to Adela – her father and mother were siblings of my husband – her surname was Mano. She lived with her Christian husband. Adela was a Spanish citizen. For us to get to Athens was very difficult, a long way and there was no road from Nea Ionia to Skoufa Street in Athens. We did not have anywhere else to go. 

Zermain with her brother Jacko, Leo’s nephews – they too lived in a house, they were the children of Albertos Abravanel. I used to take some food to the people we knew in Athens. Luckily while on excursions or swimming, or in the Langada Thermae with friends, my husband had met someone called Sotiris Christianos, who lived in Athens, on Koliatsou Street and my husband had once gone to his house. Luckily, he remembered the house, even though it was in a small street, and we knocked at the door – it was past midnight.

We had set off to go to Adela’s house but ended up in the house of Christianos, that was his family name. We knocked on the door, someone from inside jumped out and asked, ‘Who is it?’ ‘Leo,’ my husband answered. As soon as he heard the name he opened the door and took us inside. 

He started asking how come we were there at this hour, and says to Leo, ‘This is where you will stay.’ He kept him there for a long time, two months. I was commuting. He lived in a house of two rooms with his wife and daughter. And he gave Leo his daughter’s room; he pulled her out of bed literally to give it to us. Sotiris, he is the one who saved us. 

In Athens, I remember, once we had gone for a walk in the National Garden and we met an SS man from Thessaloniki – near the shop there was a Gestapo station, and they used to come to our shop – at the corner of Aghia Triada and Velissariou Street, and this is how they knew us. This man recognized Leo and he asked him whether he had come to Athens and where was he staying? We approached him and felt terrified, thinking it was the end. Leo froze. And before Leo could think of an answer he said, ‘Actually, don’t tell me,’ and disappeared. He surely guessed that Leo was a Jew, and didn’t want to be seen by some other German.

In Athens I tried to sell certain things I made by myself. Once, I remember, I had brought many walnuts and Sotiris had a license for a carrier because he had been wounded in the war. We put the nuts on the carrier and sold them, and to make more money we cleaned them before we sold them. 

There was great hunger during the war in Athens, that’s why I brought provisions from Salonica. Except for the little money I made at the shop, I also had some traveling salesmen that took some goods to the villagers that worked in the black market. They asked for our face creams and gave us wheat and barley in return. I would take that to my parents but also saved some for Leo and his niece’s children, Dimitri and Despoina, who were baptized, but after the war they became Jewish again. Despoina married a man from Larissa, some Moise Moissis. A very nice chap. I went to their engagement party. I and Mari were the only relatives, and they really took good care of us.

So it was time for him to leave Athens, and he returned to Salonica. My father thought we should open a hole in the wall big enough for Leo to fit in lying, so he could hide there whenever some Gestapo men should come looking for him. We shut this hole with an iron sheet and in front of it put a chest we had at home so that it wouldn’t show. 

From a certain point that wasn’t covered one night I managed to see Germans in our courtyard and heard a shot. They had seen the light that was turned on. It was difficult for me to pull the chest on my own. In the meantime the Germans jumped in our courtyard and started kicking at our door downstairs. 

Then my mother went down to open the door for them. Our cat had given birth and my mom had put it at the entrance, so she told the Germans, ‘Be careful please, don’t step over the cat and its kittens.’ They were surprised: Germans come in your house in the middle of the night and my mom tells them to be careful of the kittens. She showed great courage. I couldn’t believe it. She was such a fearful woman that we used to tie her head so her jaw wouldn’t tremble from fear. 

It was clear that someone had turned us in, because the Germans must have had gotten some information from someone. They searched the house, all the rooms, thoroughly. Our hearts were beating faster. I forgot to tell you, they were not all Germans, there were Greeks with the Gestapo too. Afterwards they went to Filellinon Street and caught a few people. 

In the meantime the sun rose and the whole neighborhood started asking us about Leo. My husband was very restless: though we hid him, he would take a stroll in the courtyard, look out the windows. And he went outside too. I once met him in Salamina, on the street. We had a warning signal, this is how I knew, because it was night and he couldn’t be seen, he was across the street. We had to use the hiding spot at home just once. But if we hadn’t had it that night, the Gestapo would have caught him for sure, and none knows what would have happened… 

Before the war, when my husband’s father was still alive, I got engaged to Leo. The ceremony took place in our home. His father was present, and his brother Isidor with his wife. My relatives too were there, my grandmother, my uncles, and we exchanged rings. There was no discussion with regard to religion, and we hadn’t really thought of it. We got engaged so that people would stop talking, because Leo visited us frequently at home. 

We married after the war, and just before the wedding I became Jewish in a public bath, in Charilaou. I remember it only vaguely, like a dream. I only remember Mari. There were others that I didn’t know and they spoke a language I didn’t know. It happened in the afternoon. 

After the war when I converted to Judaism I didn’t feel any difference. The Jewish religion is very similar to the Christian one. Almost the same holidays and the same ceremonies, the beginning of the holiday on the eve of the holiday. After the war, I started going to the synagogue with my husband, especially during the fasts but also on other festive occasions. I hadn’t been to church as many times as I’ve been to the synagogue.

The issue was never raised with Leo who would become Christian or Jewish. It never preoccupied me. I remember I was still young, when I heard my mother say, ‘We must respect all religions.’ I remember we were very young then but this impressed us very much. We were tolerant. We were not a religious family. My mother lit a candle, but very rarely lit incense, because it bothered us. I remember once I had fainted in the church. 

What was really important for me was my love for Leo. I believe that if there is a God, he is there for the whole world. The priests divided the world for their own interest. They all say, ‘I spoke with God and this is what God told me.’ It is all a matter of power, that’s how all religions were formed. Everyone claimed that he was God’s representative. They did well to guide us to be good people. In the beginning we were like animals. Religion holds people back from evil doings. 

I remember our wedding was among the first that took place in Thessaloniki after the war 16. Before that the two sisters who had returned from the camp got married: Iza, who married Dario Pinhas and Marika, who married Jim. 

After the war we went to stay with my sister-in-law for a while in the house my father had bought for Leo to hide in Charilaou. It was one of these houses that belonged to the allies, something like a bunker. It was at the end of Charilaou, during the occupation, when my father had bought it, it was almost in the countryside. It was going to be turned into a big park, but I don’t know what happened. The past owner had treated my father badly, and this made him decide that Leo should not hide there, because he considered it dangerous. 

After the war my husband and I continued the same business. We were so successful that wholesale shops had bigger stock of our cosmetics than Nivea. They sued us and took us to court because we were using Nivea’s tin jars and just added a sign with our name. We had four different face creams: Leonar, Neo Leonar, Kathrine and Jane. Ours was neither as thick nor as white as Nivea because as soon as you used it for acne it was absorbed. 

There is no doubt that after the war Salonica was empty of Jews. I remember that a short time before they were deported Jews entrusted us with the gold sterling savings and their jewelry to hide. These people didn’t know where they were going, they didn’t know they were destined to be turned into soap. [Editor’s note: During World War II it was widely believed that soap was being produced on an industrial scale from the bodies of Jewish concentration camp victims. Soap from human fat was never produced industrially. The Yad Vashem Memorial has also officially stated that the Nazis did not make soap from Jewish corpses, saying that such rumors were used by the Nazis to frighten camp inmates. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soap_made_from_human_corpses] We always called on them to check, but they trusted us even though we insisted. They came to the shop to sell us useless things, empty bottles or jars, but we bought them just to support them. 

We had invented a technique to hide gold sterling inside the soaps we made and which we stored in some wooden boxes where Germans kept cheese. In each soap one could fit three to four sterling coins, which we put inside just before the soap got cold, wrapped in some delicate piece of cloth. We also manufactured laundry soaps and bath soaps. We manufactured many such things. We wrapped the soaps in nice paper and sealed them. 

We even put gold coins in toothpaste. We opened them at the wide end to take out the toothpaste so the gold coins would fit in, and then we closed them again to fit in the box. It is certain that some of them fell in the hands of the Germans. Imagine their surprise. Later the Germans – when an uncle of ours betrayed us – destroyed our machinery for manufacturing soap. I won’t say his name, God should forgive him, because both him and his son are dead.

Leo wasn’t drafted to fight in the war because he was a Spanish citizen, for the same reason he wasn’t drafted to fight in the [Greek] Civil War either 17. The biggest mess took place in Athens. At the time we lived in Charilaou. They had requisitioned our house, and I don’t know how the resistance people got in. The house had three rooms, and us they gave only one bedroom. They would come and go from our house, which they had turned into a transit center, but I don’t remember how they got inside. Who they were? I don’t remember. We didn’t face any problems, neither I at work, nor Leo.

Leo and I didn’t have children. Unfortunately, I don’t like them. I couldn’t imagine myself taking care of children. I feel for them, I pity them, especially those that starve and grow up in divorced families. From my balcony in the old people’s home I can watch some gypsy children playing music. How I pity them and how much I admire them. 

If you remember the story I told you about the doll, you will know that I didn’t like dolls either. Once, when my girlfriend broke the porcelain doll’s head they all cried so much that even my mother got worried. It didn’t trouble me at all. I had never played with it. I can’t stand watching people mistreat children and I want that all of them get educated. 

After the war we stayed at Charilaou. Because this house was bought during the occupation the state took it and gave us some indemnity. Needless to say they gave us much less than what it was worth. They gave us 3,000 drachmas whereas we had paid 7,000 for it. 

Originally the house belonged to a certain person named Pavlos Yannatos, whose in-laws were friends of the family. Normally we should have sued him, but not only didn’t we do any such thing, but Leo also tore Yannatos’s checks apart. My uncle Giorgos Manoussos, who was an architect, saw the house and he told us that the price we had bought it for was fair. 

Leo had a passion for photography. He always took pictures, but didn’t print them himself. He had them developed somewhere. After the war he used to take many pictures of the places where we used to go on our summer vacation, in Mihaniona. He would photograph everything; I don’t think anybody took so many pictures. He was also a photographer at weddings and took pictures of all our friends during excursions. He may have forgotten to put on his trousers, but he never forgot to take along his camera. 

At the time I used to keep the shop and I would come and go. My husband was very sociable, the opposite of me. He also used to take pictures of foreigners, from Yugoslavia, Romania. He made friends with them when they came to Mihaniona for a vacation. Usually he went to Mihaniona with his sister Mari and his brother-in-law Henri. He made copies and send them the pictures after they went back to their home countries. They kept a correspondence. I tore some of the photographs and others I threw away. Do you know how many albums I had, how many family pictures? Now I don’t have any, not even of my parents or my wedding…

My husband knew many foreign languages, he could manage many things. He knew Spanish of course, German, French and a little English. Leo had to become an interpreter at the Thessaloniki Fair. I remember he had bought a Linguaphone, because he wanted to go to London and told them that he would learn English in two months. He would study and listen to the records all day long. 

My husband’s oldest brother was Rafael, who was killed in Spain. He was married to Corina, whom I put up in our house in Thessaloniki for a while. After him was Albertos, who was married to Bella, and they had four children: Zermain, Jacko, Lilika and Gaston. Gaston, poor him, died in Hirsch hospital. They didn’t manage to save him. The oldest, Zermain, married her cousin Moise Abravanel, and Lilika married a widower, who had a child in Israel. She had a child with him called Jacko. They are all dead now. 

Jacko had married a Polish woman who was tall and virile. He was very tall himself and very thin. He got killed by a bomb. They had a daughter who became an air hostess. We don’t have any contact with the children of Jacko and Lilika, who must still be alive. 

After that was Paul, that handsome man who was honorary vice consul and had a Swiss wife, Jeanne. Leo and Monis had gone to Switzerland during World War I to study. My father-in-law was very wealthy. Paul was already there when he met Jeanne, a petite and very likable lady. I only know one of her sons, Eve. What a sweet kid, happy and smiling. 

He received a hotel in Beaulieu – between Nice and Monte Carlo – as dowry from his wife. A huge two-story hotel, with swimming pool that had been built with blue tiles, and two hundred people for personnel. When Leo and I went there for a visit we could see the water falling like waterfalls. The hotel started in the mountains and ended by the sea. 

Once when Eve offered us a meal in a different suburb in Beaulieu, where it was a little cold, and my husband, who was a little talkative, told the waiter I was cold. So the waiter returned with a fur to warm me up. I think my husband spoke in French, maybe even in Italian. Paul stayed in France because when we went there he was already retired. 

Inos married twice. He first had a Jewish wedding, as he got married to a niece, Marika Evgenidou, of my uncle Manussos. Together they had a child, Jacques. After that they divorced and the child was taken in by my sister-in-law Marie, who didn’t have any children, and she brought him up with a nanny. She lived in a house on Vassileos Georgiou Street opposite Sarandaporou Street. 

At the time we didn’t ask too many questions. Marika’s grandparents stole the child from the hands of the nanny when it was still very young, maybe two years old. The child grew up and was baptized Christian under the name Dimitris, and he was also raised a Christian. He then went to the military, the navy. 

After the occupation, a young man came to the house in Charilaou and asked us if we had any family ties with someone called Ino Abravanel. He was this child that had been stolen and found out about it in a mature age, as he was by then a married man with children. He found out that he wasn’t his grandparents’ child but the grandson and child of the woman whom until then he had considered his sister. While his alleged nephews – in the meantime the mother had married a Christian banker and had two children with him – were his half siblings. Not a word about his real father. 

I remember him crying at the threshold of our house in his wish to learn about his roots. In other words, that he was not Evgenidis, but Abravanel. He had come to the house in Charilaou. He looked like his father. Ino was then living in Paris where he had married a Spanish woman and had with her two children, Jacques and Rachelle. I remember that the young man didn’t even want to sit down in our living room. We gave him the address of his real father. I don’t know what happened after that. 

Izidor married a certain Dora, she was Jewish and they had two children, Jacko and Sylvio. They had decided to leave for the USA. They made all the preparations and sold their house and they were going to leave by boat. In a week both children got diphtheria and both of them died. All of this happened before the occupation. Dora didn’t want to leave for the USA after that and leave her children buried here. And so they didn’t go. 

Time passed and they had two more boys whom they named once again Jacko and Sylvio. Very spoiled kids. Their mother wanted to bring down the moon for them and Jackos was a monster, but Sylvio was quiet. They went to the Stratis restaurant, to the Terkenlis patisserie and the children ate what they wanted and Izidor paid afterwards. All this happened before the occupation. 

Leo’s family, except for himself, Ino, Solomon and Paul, who was in France, were Spanish. Jackos and Zermain also didn’t leave; all the rest were deported. They returned because they were Spanish citizens. 

Marie, who was four years older than Leo, married Henri Modiano and they had no children. All siblings had married before the war. Only Leo married afterwards. In France, Monis, who was the youngest, met Andree, a widow with two little boys. They married and I remember she was very kind, she came here with Monis twice and we met her. 

I also went to France, it’s a different thing to shop there, and they treat you differently. Greeks, as much as they try, don’t manage to behave in the same way. I went to shop with my niece Eveline, and while we watch to take somebody else’s turn, there they watch out not to take your turn. Greeks don’t do that. My friend Vassilis Tsilis who was a radio operator and traveled to London used to tell us that people were queuing even on the road in the rain.

Ino’s nephews are still alive. He remarried, a Spanish woman, and has two children, Jacko and Rachelle. Jackos lives in France and has a souvenir shop for tourists. Some time ago he used to send us nice presents. I remember he sent me a very nice Spanish fan in a luxurious box. I went to Spain but never found a similar one. He also used to send us crystal objects. We corresponded but then we stopped. 

We were also in touch with Jacko Izidor’s child, who was in the USA, this very naughty child who became a simply perfect person when he grew up. I remember I used to tell my husband that this child would shame the family. He was a mischief-maker and a rebel, because their mother Dora had a weakness for her children. When he went to the USA, I remember, Izidor received a letter from his professor congratulating him because he came first among 2,000 candidates. I cannot believe it. He was brilliant. His brother became an electrician. Now I maintain contact only with my brother Kleanthis’s daughter. 

The truth is that only Marie seemed not to approve of my relationship with Leo at first. She was a little cold with me and we didn’t have talks together. She didn’t show that she despised me but she was never close. I never remember her saying, ‘Ah, I have a nice sister-in-law.’ But all the rest of the siblings and their wives treated me very nicely, and so did Henri. 

However, when Marie met my mother she became very excited. My mother was very nice. I was a little wild, maybe because they ‘took me from the gypsies.’ I wouldn’t give in. So they met and were enchanted by each other. 

Marie also had very good relations with my brother Kleanthis. She adored him. I remember once I invited them for dinner at home and I had cooked fish. My brother found it was very tasty even though I had used frozen and not fresh fish. He said, ‘Very nice fish, and it smells of the sea.’ Mari had a soft spot for fish, but fresh fish. So just because Kleanthis liked it, she pretended to be thrilled herself. 

I remember that Henri and Marie had a cottage in Mihanionia, where she would go out on the balcony and sing arias from operas. And since her name was Marie everybody said, ‘Here is Maria Callas.’ All this took place after the war. She would sit in the sun and get tanned. When we first arrived in Salonica, tanning was not in fashion. 

Marie didn’t do any housework, she stayed in a hotel, because Henri couldn’t stand her complaining about the maids. When I sent her the woman that cleaned for us, she threw her out, and guess why. She said that the woman worked too fast! ‘No, I want the work to be done slowly,’ she told to us.

After the occupation I had her staying in my home for a year while her husband lived in Charilaou. After that they went to the Hotel Continental and Henri got sick and unfortunately he died there. 

They went to Athens, to Kifissia, to spend the summer. Henri smoked like a chimney. They went to see a doctor in Ascleipeion and he said Henri needed an operation and kept him there. At night he felt unwell. Mari ran to find a clinic on Alexandras Avenue. We were in Salonica at the time. I was there on my own and Leo was in Israel. Mari called me the next day and told me: ‘Come to Athens fast, Henri is not well, he is swollen and has become like a ball.’ She also called Kleanthis. When Kleanthis got there he found Henri swollen and black. 

A whole hospital and Henri had a suite on the top floor. They operated on him and from then on Henri did not speak again. They used to feed him with tubes. When they returned in Salonica they went back to the Continental Hotel and took another room with two nurses day and night. When he died none of them was on his side. Roula Shoel’s mother, who was a niece of Henri [Roula’s grandfather and Henri were brothers], went to see her uncle and found the nurses smoking in the living room, and Henri dead. None was there next to him. He could not speak, he did not drink water, whatever he wanted he had to write it down. 

Henri was in real estate, but not in renting apartments. He rented offices and big plots of land. The monks from Athos mountain came with gold sterling coins and bought offices on Aristotelous Street. They brought Marie presents, handmade embroideries. I remember a very nice mortar, and a grater 

During World War I my father-in-law had a boat called ‘Marika’ in honor of his daughter Marie, and brought wines from Crete. This boat sunk and after that the way down started. I remember my father, who had a restaurant during World War I, used to buy his wines from Abravanel’s cave. 

I remember we used to keep kosher, mainly on certain days, not all year round. But I remember there was a kosher butcher on Aghia Triada Street, owned by two brothers. I remember them all day cutting and cleaning the meat. It was hard. Many Greeks used to buy meat from the Jew because they considered that meat cleaner. The meat they give us here every Sunday has no fat at all. The old people cannot chew it and there is trouble. Jews don’t eat pork or salami, but neither do Muslims.

My husband ate salami. He was nevertheless a true Jew, you could not touch him, but to the synagogue he wouldn’t go. All the family were true Jews, but only Isidor went to the synagogue regularly, the others didn’t.

Marie too was very Jewish, oh one should not touch her. She kept on saying, ‘I am a Jewess.’ But go to the synagogue – no. They also didn’t have friends that were Jewish. Leo too only had Christian friends. Maybe he got it from us. We only had two Jews in our company, Jacko Gabai and Sol Sevi. They were very nice people. My mother and father used to call them ‘mom’ and ‘dad.’ 

My husband went out with Christians mainly, he was a merry man and spent a lot of money. He wanted to show he was very generous. He may have wanted to disprove the stereotype of the stingy Jew [the interviewee laughs]. He was a steady customer in the ‘Opera Nest.’ He even went to their home. I didn’t follow him always. I didn’t like this way of having fun. It is not that I feared the money wasted, but he could have given it elsewhere, where it could have been more useful. 

Alberto Ouziel was one of our Jewish friends. He sold locks for suitcases, and his wife Loulou was like my sister. I would call to visit and the tray was behind the door already: with sweets and everything. They had a daughter, Roula. We also socialized with Nissim Menashe, whose wife was Christian, Kaiti was her name. We went out together and went on excursions. Alberto was a bit difficult, but Loulou was a treasure of a human being. We had great times. When we were visiting her, she’d say, ‘Oh I forgot to offer you some candy, to sweeten your life… it’s New Year’s today.’ And things like that.

In Loulou’s house together with Roula we celebrated Jewish holidays. There I could feel it was a holiday. Where I am today, I can’t. At home we would invite friends and we didn’t have a maid. I would prepare everything by myself. But my husband never warned me in time. Because I would have to clean, to take out the silverware, nice table cloths, prepare the salads etc. At that time everything was prepared by the housewife: the mayonnaise, the Ikra salad. And I worked all day. 

Albertos and Loulou had hidden in Athens, like the grandparents. Take into account that Alberto on Pesach, used to go where Marie was hiding and where Loulou was too, somewhere in Erythrea, and I don’t know where Loulou was   – he had to prepare the matzah by himself, without yeast – and bake it in the oven, so he wouldn’t have to eat bread. They really sounded like true Sephardim, especially the grandparents, who spoke Greek in a singing way. 

During the holidays Albertos read in Hebrew, and there was a deadly silence. I didn’t understand, and maybe Loulou didn’t either, and even the grandparents didn’t know Hebrew. They were Spaniards and spoke Spanish between them, more than Greek. In the Book it is spelled out what is the order one must follow during the celebration: how to set the table, and what exactly one ought to do. One has to pick some lettuce, the lamb’s leg, the egg, the charoset, the matzah, cut a piece and eat it with charoset, and put the rest under your table towel. 

Loulou cooked nice Jewish dishes. Meatballs from chicken breast, and those made of leek and spinach. Albertos wanted everything to be precise, and looked for detail. This is the way to cut the lettuce, the matzah should be placed over there, and the charoset over there. 

I learned how to cook beans with fried onions, and sardines with eggs. And of course peche en salsa, with a lot of nuts and matzah, and plenty of oil. 

Leo too wanted those dishes, one always seeks what one is used to, but he never refused eating other dishes either. I was a good cook. 

My favorite holiday was Pesach. If I compare it with the one we celebrate in the old people’s home – they don’t understand anything. Here, the rabbi reads and the rest of the people eat. ‘Eh, wait a minute my dear, close your mouth, nobody is going to take it away from you.’ But back then I could understand the holiday, and I was very sorry once when Elvina, my niece, was in Thessaloniki that Albertos didn’t want her to come and see how we celebrate, because she wasn’t Jewish. She was very sad, because she would have liked to watch other customs. It’s a long time ago. At the time when both Roula’s and Elvina’s parents were still alive. 

I remember we went on excursions. Once we went together to the Patras Carnival. Leo didn’t especially like excursions and usually all our friends joined the excursions. So this excursion was organized and we went together with Loulou, her husband and their child. My brother lived in Athens and I called him, saying that we would stay in a hotel for the night and then leave for Patras. We took a bus, which was in a bad state and broke down all the time. So I called my brother to ask him not to meet us since we were still in Lamia because the bus broke down. 

Finally we arrived in Athens in the morning and got to Patras dead tired. On Easter Monday we had arranged to go to a restaurant somewhere between Athens and Patras so that my brother Kleanthis could come and meet us with his wife and son. But we ran out of time and my brother had to pay a big sum for canceling the reservation. 

We got to Patras only in the afternoon to watch the parade. Everybody went off the bus, except for me, because Leo wanted me to watch the suitcases. They all went to the parade, apart from me. When they returned it was already dark and I didn’t even feel like watching the carnival scarecrow burn.

I remember we used to go to a place called Poroya. Our company had grown, but except for Loulou and her husband all of them were Greek Orthodox. Along with us to Poroya came Antoniades with his wife and daughter, Panayotes and Marika with their two boys, and Apostolos with his wife and their son.

Among the few events I remember well is the engagement of Mazaltov, who was the niece of Leo’s cousin, in Larissa. Mazaltov was the daughter of Adela, who was Leo’s first cousin. It was a very nice engagement. They had a lot of trays with delicacies, pies and everything. 

I also went to Roula’s wedding. She married a Jew called Jacko Soel and their son was also named Jacko, after his father. They got married at the big synagogue on Syggrou Street and afterwards a small feast took place in a ‘taverna’ but the food wasn’t typically Jewish, it was mainly Greek. Roula’s uncle had a jewelry shop in Athens so they brought her as present many jewels. I remember the house was full of flowers.     

Neither Leo nor I were involved in politics. We only cared about our work. Law-abiding citizens. I remember I used to buy the newspaper ‘Makedonia.’ I don’t know how, but one day I bought ‘Thessaloniki,’ and there I read that in Chalastra they tortured and killed animals so they wouldn’t get rabies. The teacher and the priest of the village were present. I was at the shop and in came Mrs. Olympia, the mother-in-law of Nikos Gadonas, a high-ranking military official during the time of the dictatorship 18, and I said to her, trembling, ‘How come Mr. Nikos allows this barbarism. These are acts performed and watched by criminals.’ It seems she spoke to her son-in-law because we didn’t hear of this again. 

Would you believe it that, even though I visited Athens I never heard of the Polytechnic events 19 and neither of Papadopoulos’s doings. When my niece in France asked me about these events I didn’t know what to answer. Maybe I didn’t read the papers thoroughly enough. But people here didn’t know. Not even in Athens. At the time my uncle and my brother lived there. 

My husband went on many trips. I joined him in France and in Turkey; our first trip together was to Istanbul. We went there because my husband wished to see some relative, a cousin. We stayed for one week. We saw Aghia Sofia and the Blue Mosque. We would take our shoes off, how nice that everybody prayed! During the Ramadan one could see them all bending down. Me too, I listen to music with my eyes closed. Especially when I used to go to a concert, I remember I used to close my eyes. This is the only way to enjoy it. One uses one’s imagination … 

We went to Italy, to Spain, and to Paris I went with my niece Elvina. Leo even traveled as far as America. He went to the United States with friends because he knew English. His friends found out that in New York they sold things cheaply in certain shops. They left Greece and went shopping in New York to save money. Leo had brought with him only a light jacket and there was snow. He was freezing. 

Luckily he met his friend Nissim Menashe, who only had a bench when he first got there and later opened a huge shop. Before he left for the States he had a clothes shop on Leoforos Stratou and Aghia Triada. He too had married an Orthodox Greek and they had two small children, little Jews. Very good children. At first it was very difficult for him in America and he suffered a lot. In the cold, in the snow. 

He had Blacks as clients and because they had many children they bought not one pair of socks, but socks by the dozen, blouses, many things. The owner of the shop where he parked his carriage died, so Menashe bought his shop and then another one and started selling furs and clothes. That is how Nissim got rich; he became a big businessman though he started as a mobile merchant. But he was smart and thrifty. He didn’t spend his money, he was a true merchant. 

He came twice or three times to see us. But both he and his wife died in the States. Kate, however, left a will to be buried here in Thessaloniki, her home city, where her mother had died and where her sister and her nieces lived. 

After the war Leo socialized almost only with Greek Orthodox friends. Everyone asked for him and wanted him to join them. If Leo didn’t go there was no way an excursion would take place. He wanted me to join him on the excursions, but I didn’t go. 

I had a good time in my marriage. Maybe because I was a tough character and he would not dare say anything. He knew that if Eugenia said something, that was it. 

Leo and I were a very loving couple, but not like my mother and father. He told me some things for fun, but I was unyielding and very stubborn. Often I regretted it, but I never gave in. I wouldn’t give in, ever.

Leo said to me one day, ‘I’ve had enough, I want to have fun, get away, I can no longer work.’ So I told him, ‘Let us split the shop. I will take the small wares, which I had introduced in the business during the occupation, and you take the cosmetics. Which do you prefer?’ Finally he sold me the cosmetics for 2 percent less than we sold them. I paid every penny, slowly because the truth is that I didn’t have all the money. 

I gave him the money when he stayed here in the old people’s home and had three ladies look after him. No one has three ladies looking after him! One squeezed him oranges, the other came in later to bring him his newspaper to read – even though they give us a newspaper here he wanted his ‘Makedonia’ to be bought – and the third came in the afternoon. She was married and had a child and when the weather was nice she took him for walks and also to ‘Jani,’ the patisserie. There, Leo would eat an ice-cream cone. She was worth it because she took him out for walks and took him around. 

What can I tell you, every time I saw dust in his room he would say to me, ‘Eh what is there to say, we talk so that the time passes.’ Otherwise he would ask Eugenia to sew his buttons. 

As I told you, I was very stubborn. I did everything, squeezed his grapefruit, prepared his salad, I always prepared food to have in the refrigerator so he could eat at lunchtime, even though he usually ate out with Kleanthis Anthomelidis at the Athenaikon restaurant, opposite the Continental hotel, where Henri and Marie lived. 

I remember one morning when I didn’t leave early. While I was making his bed, I must have said something and he replied: ‘Women’s work is not such a big deal.’ If he had said that only about me, maybe I wouldn’t have reacted. But since he underestimated all women, I said to him, ‘Oh is that what you think?’ And I remember it as if it was yesterday, I had my back turned to him, grabbed the bedspread and threw them down, saying, ‘Go ahead then, do it yourself.’ And he replied, ‘Oh women, they just don’t get it when you are teasing them…’ 

At the time we didn’t have a help. A few days went by, and I didn’t squeeze grapefruits, nor did I do anything else. I ate by myself at the shop and didn’t pay any attention to him. ‘Well, won’t you come home for a while, as before?’ he asked. ‘No,’ I said. ‘There are feathers under the beds, and soon there will be cockroaches.’ ‘I’m an animal lover,’ I answered. 

He started asking his friends for a help. Finally he found one that had a sister in Kilkis. He paid her to come once a week from Kilkis with her daughter, she did the housework and left. At night when I returned at home we only said good evening and goodnight. We loved each other, but there is a limit. He came to the shop, left the merchandise and went. This went on for a while. 

Of course these women that cleaned the house did nothing: the bathrooms were filthy, the balcony full of dust, and even the neighbors commented. ‘So,’ I told Leo, ‘What do these women do?’ After this lady from Kilkis, the barber’s wife came to clean for him while she left their two kids with the barber. She left too. 

So, he didn’t know what to do and went to the old people’s home. My husband stayed there for three years. I stayed outside, because I didn’t want to leave the shop. I kept it until 1994 when a car hit me and I broke both my legs. I wouldn’t have left it otherwise. We made face creams. The same cream with four different names. The same thing is done with medicine. After the car hit me and broke my legs, I closed my little shop and didn’t open it again. 

I used to go to the old people’s home and celebrate the high holidays there, such as Pesach and New Year’s [Rosh Hashanah], I gave something to the institution, something to Maria the cook, and Leo asked for a 500 note. It was a good salary at the time. I always came on the high holidays and we celebrated them together. But I would never sit in the restaurant during weekdays. Besides, no outsider is allowed to sit in the restaurant. Only Alvo’s mother-in-law came and ate with us. She used to be delighted with our salads. How nice the oil is, she used to comment. It was ‘Altis.’ And she would say, ‘I use the same, but it doesn’t taste as good.’

Sometime after my husband’s death in 1992, I think it was on 15th January, because I remember that he wanted to have a big party on 17th  January, which was his birthday, I decided to come here myself. It was in November 1993. Now that I am here permanently, I don’t feel the holidays, but I participate. Some time ago I went to the synagogue, on the ground floor of the building, when there was a commemoration of a friend’s death anniversary…

Here in the home, we prepare for Sabbath and on Friday we get together in the dinning room and eat. First of all we light two candles. Not the men, only the women. The woman is the pillar of the house. After that Bourlas reads a blessing. If he is away Iakovos reads in Hebrew. He holds the glass of wine and then drinks a little. 

We then take the bread, the challah, which we have to break by hand. We are thirty people here and we each must have two little challot, and I thought, ‘Why would we break it by hand?’ So I took the knife and cut them in 15 pieces, and instead of hearing a praise, they reproached me that I’m supposed to break it with my own hand. So, we drink the wine, I don’t, I only touch on the glass with my lips, and then we tear the bread by hand. The give us an egg each, an ‘enhaminados’ egg, spinach and cheese pie, bourekitos 20, and yoghurt at night. And then we leave and go to our rooms.

My best friends in the old people’s home are Mois Bourlas and Mr. Zak Bensussan, who died a few days ago. I remember that when we came from Mytilene I was registered in an athletic club, in Panlesviakos, and we had as a coach Kleanthis Paleologos. When I was to come to Salonica he advised me to get registered at Heracles. 

Indeed, a week after we arrived I went there, and at the time I got registered the president of the club was Mr. Cosmopoulos, the father of the former mayor. I remember that until I got used to the environment, I would see some young man and everybody said, ‘Ah, look Isaac has come, Isaac has come.’ And the president would come out of his office to welcome him. This one Isaac Bensussan was the father of Mrs. Rena Molho. When he walked in it was as if there was a demonstration. 

The truth is that I met him there for the first time, I appreciated him, I admired him. He was a tall handsome guy. Our eyes never crossed, I only saw him from a distance. Also I didn’t stay at Heracles long. 

In Mytilene we were a different group. When I came here I was a stranger among strangers. I also registered in the YMCA and took gymnastics. Afterwards I started working. I didn’t meet Isaac in person back then, I met him here, in the old peoples’ home. We used to say then, ‘I love Heracles and I always want the team to win.’ And it is here that we spoke a few words together, but always in connection with Heracles, if they won or lost.

In the past I used to tell stories about Mytilene to friends here, about excursions to Molyvos and from there to Eftalou, the home city of the poet Argyris Eftaliotis, whose real name was Kleanthis Michailidis 21. Maybe they were a little bored, I don’t blame them, as they didn’t live in these places. How can one explain to them that we went fishing for squid and crabs, how we threw the net? When I told them I could visualize these scenes.

I’m a Spanish citizen and therefore I don’t vote, but until now I vote in the Community. I watch if we are having a good time with some committee, but if someone else offers me something else, well, it depends. I care about how the Community is doing, because I live here. This is my home, and who supports me here now? Greece? No, the Community. 

By the way I have a complaint: Here in the old people’s home they don’t let us know about the death of our friends. For instance, when Mr. Jackos died, I found out about it on the day of his funeral from Bourlas. Shouldn’t I have known? 

Last night I saw by chance a documentary on the Jews of Thessaloniki and their hardship in the camps. Why didn’t they let us know? I saw Bienvenida who was also here and died last year, on the table where she sat. She used to live in the Baron de Hirsch neighborhood 22, and because it was a Jewish neighborhood she always spoke Spanish. She had a lot to say, and she spoke Spanish, even in the interview they made with her. She only learned Greek here. She was very nice, very joyful. We truly miss her. She had asthma since the time she was in the camps. This is what she died of. 

People came from various places to learn something from Bienvenida. They conducted interviews with her and with Bourlas. They had a lot to say. We spent a lot of time with Bienvenida. She was very tidy. She wanted everything to be tidy, and her bedspread tightened up. If her pillowcase was a millimeter larger than her pillow, she asked me to alter it with the sewing machine. She wanted everything to be perfect. And I was happy to do so, because I don’t like sitting around doing nothing. 

I love work. With my sewing machine I altered everything in the first years. I sew curtains for them, hangers for the towels. All the towels were torn when they brought them from the cleaners and I mended them, for the whole house. I also embroidered. I sew sheets and pillowcases, and put two button holes in each pillowcase. My wish was that they bury me with my chair at the shop and my sewing machine. Later on I gave it away, because I started not to see well.

I am a fanatic ecologist, which is why I keep the flowers even when they have withered. You see, I have aged, maybe they too have a reason to do so. Maybe there’s a purpose behind it. 

Glossary:

1 Greco-Turkish War of 1897

Also called the Thirty Days' War and known as the black '97 in Greece. A war fought between the Kingdom of Greece and Ottoman Empire. Its immediate cause was the question over the status of the Ottoman province of Crete, whose Greek majority long desired union with Greece. As a result of the intervention of the Great Powers after the war, an autonomous Cretan State under Ottoman suzerainty was established the following year, with Prince George of Greece as its first High Commissioner. This was the first war effort in which the military and political personnel of Greece were put to test after the war of independence in 1821. (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greco-Turkish_War_(1897))

2 Venizelos, Eleftherios (1864 - 1936)

an eminent Greek revolutionary, a prominent and illustrious statesman as well as a charismatic leader in the early 20th century. Elected several times as Prime Minister of Greece and served from 1910 to 1920 and from 1928 to 1932. Venizelos had such profound influence on the internal and external affairs of Greece that he is credited with being “the maker of modern Greece.” His impact on modern Greece has been such that he is still widely known as the “Ethnarch.” (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eleftherios_Venizelos)

3 Fez

Ottoman headgear. As part of the Imperial Prescript of Gulhane (a westernizing campaign) of Sultan Mahmud II (1839-1876) the traditional Ottoman dressing code was abolished in 1839. The fez, resembling the hat of the Europeans at the time, was introduced and widely used by the Ottoman population, regardless of religious affiliation. In the Turkish Republic it was considered backward and outlawed in 1925 by the Head Law. In the Balkan countries the fez was regarded an Ottoman (Turkish) symbol and was dropped after gaining independence.

4 Pangalos, Theodoros (1878 –1952)

Greek general, who briefly ruled the country in 1925 and 1926. On 24th June 1925, officers loyal to Pangalos, overthrew the government in a coup. Pangalos immediately abolished the young republic and began to prosecute anyone who could possibly challenge his authority. Freedom of the press was abolished, and a number of repressive laws were enacted, while Pangalos awarded himself the Grand Cross of the Order of the Redeemer. Pangalos declared himself dictator on 3rd January 1926 and had himself elected president in April 1926. On the economic front Pangalos attempted to devalue the currency by ordering paper notes cut in half. His political and diplomatic inability however became soon apparent. He conceded too many rights to Yugoslav commerce in Thessaloniki, but worst of all, he embroiled Greece in the so-called War of the Stray Dog, harming Greece's already strained international relations. Soon, many of the officers that had helped him come to power decided that he had to be removed. On 24th August 1926, a counter-coup deposed him, and Pavlos Kountouriotis returned as president. (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theodoros_Pangalos_(general))

5 The Smyrna Campaign

In the Paris Peace Conference of 1919, Greece was granted West and East Thrace and a mandate to occupy Smyrna (Izmir) (1920). The landing of Greek troops in Asia Minor in 1919, the defeat of Venizelos by the royalists in the elections of 1920, and a protracted campaign against the nationalist forces of Kemal Ataturk (the father of modern Turkey) led to defeat and the expulsion of 1,300,000 Greeks from Turkey in 1922. These destitute refugees descended upon a Greece of barey five million and became the foremost consideration of all interwar Greek governments [Source: Thanos Veremis, Mark Dragoumis, Historical Dictionary of Greece (London 1995)].

6 The Fire of Thessaloniki

In the night of 18th August 1917, an enormous fire, fed by the famous Vardar wind, destroyed the city centre where most of the Jews lived. It was a region of 227 hectares, where 15,000 families lived, 10,000 of them were Jewish families which were deprived of their homes. The Jews were hit the hardest, since more than two thirds of the property destroyed by the fire was Jewish and only a tenth of that immense fortune was insured. Nearly all the schools, 32 synagogues, 50 oratories, all the cultural centers, libraries, clubs, etc. were annihilated. Despite of the aid of a sum of 40,000 golden pounds collected from all over the world, the community never recovered from that disaster. The Jewish face of the city that had been there for more than five centuries was wiped out in 36 hours. 25,000, out of 53,000 of the stricken Jews that belonged mostly to the lower and middle class, were forced to live in the working-class districts that were hastily built in a rudimentary fashion. (Source: Rena Molho, 'Jewish Working-Class Neighborhoods established in Salonica Following the 1890 and the 1917 Fires,' in Rena Molho, 'Salonica and Istanbul: Social, Political and Cultural Aspects of Jewish Life,' The Isis Press, Istanbul, 2005, pp.107-126.)

7 Makedonia

Daily newspaper in Thessaloniki, written in Greek and published since 1911. It supported the liberal Party and was strongly distinctive for anti-Jewish article writing and journalism.

8 Thessaloniki International Trade Fair

Taking place every September since its foundation in 1926, it has always been a very important economic as well as cultural city event. For the last few years the Fair has been a pole of attraction and the "place" where the political program of the government is being presented and assessed.

9 Greek-Albanian War/Greek-Italian War (1940-1941)

Greece was drawn into WWII when Italian troops crossed the borders of Albania and violated Greek territory on 28th October 1940. The Italian attack of Greece seemed obvious, despite the stated disagreement of Hitler and the efforts of Ioannis Metaxas, who was trying to trying to keep the country in a neutral stance. Following a series of warning signs, culminating in the sinking of Battleship 'Elli' on 15th August 1940, by Italian torpedoes, and all of these failing to provoke the Greek government to react, the Italian Ultimatum was delivered on 28th October 1940, and it demanded the free passage of the Italian army through Greek soil, as well as sole control of a series of strategic points of the country. The rejection of the ultimatum by Metaxas was in line with the public opinion in Greece and led to the immediate declaration of war by Italy against Greece. This war took place mostly in the mountains of Hepeirous. In the Greek-Albanian War approximately 12.500 Greek Jews took part and 513 Greek Jews died fighting. The Greek counter-offensive pushed the Italians deep into Albania and the Greek army maintained the initiative throughout the winter capturing the southern Albanian towns of Corce, Aghioi Saranda, and Girocaster. [Source: Thanos Veremis, Mark Dragoumis, 'Historical Dictionary of Greece' (London 1995)]

10 '151'

After the Fire of 1917, the Jewish Community acquired the large No. 151 hospital, which belonged to the Italian army and was located east of the Thessaloniki. 75 wooden structures and many brick and cement structures were subsequently built to house the fire-stricken Jewish population.  

11 3E (Ethniki Enosi Ellados)

lit. National Union of Greece, a fascist nationalist organization, founded in 1929 by George Kosmidis. It had about 2000 members, of whom the majority was immigrants. [Source: J. Hondros, 'Occupation and Resistance: the Greek Agony,' New York, 1983] 

12 Campbell Fire (Pogrom on 29th June 1931)

Responsible for the arson of the poor neighborhood Campbell was the Ethniki Enosis Ellas - National Union Greece, short: EEE also known as the 3E or the 'Iron Helmets.' This organization was the backbone of fascism in Greece in the period between the two World Wars. It was established in Thessaloniki in 1927. The most important element of the 3E political voice was anti-Semitism, an expression mostly of the Christian traders of the city in order to displace the Jewish competitors. President of the organization was a merchant, Mr. G. Cormides, there was also a secretary, a banker, D. Haritopoulos, and chief spokesman Nikos Fardis, editor-in-chief of the newspaper Makedonia. The occasion for the outbreak of anti-Semitism in Thessaloniki was the inauguration of the new Maccabi Hall in June 1931. In a principal article signed by Nikos Fardis, from Saturday, 20th June 1931, it was said that Maccabi of Thessaloniki had placed itself in favor of an Autonomous Greek Macedonia. The journalist "revealed" the conspiracy of Jews, Bulgarians, Communists and Catholics against Macedonia. Two days later, the Ministry of the Interior confirmed the newspaper's allegations despite the strict denial of the Maccabi representatives. All the anti-Semitic and fascist organizations were aroused. This marked the beginning of the riots that resulted in the pogrom of Campbell. Elefterios Venizelos was again involved after the 1917 fire, speaking at the parliament as Prime Minister, and talked with emphasis about the law-abiding stance of the Jewish population, but simultaneously permitted the prosecution of Maccabi for treason against the state. Let alone the fact that the newspaper Makedonia with the inflaming anti-Semitic publications was clearly pro-Venizelian. At the trial, held in Veroia ten months later, Fardis and the leaders of EEE were found not guilty while three refugees were found guilty, but with mitigating circumstances and therefore were freed on the spot. It is worth noting that at the 1933 general election, the Jews of Thessaloniki, in one block voted against Venizelos. [Source: Bernard Pierron, 'Juifs et chrétiens de la Grèce moderne,' Harmattan, Paris 1996, pp. 179-198]

13 Destruction of the Thessaloniki Jewish Cemetery

The cemetery of Thessaloniki existed since the 3rd century B.C.E. and was the largest of the Balkans with 500,000 graves. It was completely destroyed on 6th December 1942 by workers of the Municipality of Thessaloniki under the orders of the mayor and the governor of the city, Vassilis Simonides, who had been authorized by the Germans. Today the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki stands in its place. 

14 Allatini Flourmill

Rich Jewish families coming from abroad contributed immensely to the economic and cultural revival of the Jewry of Thessaloniki. The Allatini family, a rich Jewish family from Italy, settled in Thessaloniki and established the first flourmill in the city in 1898. 

15 Eleutherias Square

On 11th July 1942, following the order of the German Authority published by the local press, 6000-10.000 (depending on different estimations) male Jews aged from 18-45 were gathered in Eleutherias Square, in the commercial center of Thessaloniki. The aim was to enlist/mobilize them to forced labor works. Under the hot sun the armed soldiers forced them to remain standing for hours and imposed on them humiliating gymnastic exercises. The Wehrmacht army staff was taking photographs of the scene, while the Greek citizens were watching from their balconies. [Source: Marc Mazower, 'Inside Hitler's Greece' (Yale 1993)]

16 Group Marriages

The destruction of Jewish families in Thessaloniki led to the practice of group marriages that took place after the Holocaust and a related increase in baby births. According to Lewkowicz (1999), between 1945 and 1947 almost 39 marriages took place and between 1945 until 1951 402 births are registered at the Jewish Community of Thessaloniki. 

17 Greek Civil War (1946-1949)

Also known as Kinima or Movement, fought from 1946 to 1949 by the Governmental forces, receiving logistical support by the United Kingdom at first and later by the United States, and the Democratic Army of Greece, the military branch of the Greek Communist Party (KKE), was the result of a highly polarized struggle between leftists and rightists which started from 1943 and targeted the power vacuum that the German occupation during World War II had created. One of the first conflicts of the Cold War, according to some analysts it represents the first example of a post-war Western interference in the internal politics of a foreign country, and it marked the first serious test of the Churchill-Stalin percentages agreement. (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_Civil_War) 

18 Colonels' coup and regime (1967-1974)

Led by Colonel Georgios Papadopoulos, army units overthrew the parliamentary government on 21st April 1967. The Colonels’ coup was partly motivated by the likelihood that Georgios Papandreou’s moderate Center Union Party would have won the impending elections. It established a seven-year long harsh military dictatorship that ended in July 1974.

19 Athens Polytechnic Uprising in 1973

a massive demonstration of popular rejection of the Greek military junta of 1967-1974. The uprising began on 14th November 1973, escalated to an open anti-junta revolt and ended in bloodshed in the early morning of 17th November after a series of events starting with a tank crashing through the gates of the Polytechnic. (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Athens_Polytechnic_uprising)

20 Bourekitas (or borekas or borekitas)

“They are the culinary representatives of Greek, Balkan and Turkish Jews. The name comes from the Turkish word ‘boerek’ for pie… They are closer to Spanish and Portuguese empanadas.” (Roden, ‘The Book of Jewish Food’, 1996: 240). In pre-war Salonica the Jewish women made the pastry themselves but nowadays mostly ready-made pastry is used. 

21 Argyris Eftaliotis (real name

Kleanthis Michailidis) (1849-1923): Greek writer, who among others he propagated the modern language (dimotiki) and defended it against any accusation of being vulgar.

22 Baron Hirsch camp

One of the poorest Jewish working class neighborhoods near the old railway station in Salonica. During the German occupation it was turned into a ghetto, the so-called Baron Hirsch Camp, where the Nazis assembled the Jews before they deported them. 
 

Herczog Imréné

 

Életrajz

A Hegedűs Gyula – beszélgetésünk során csak a régi nevén emlegetett Csáky utca – elején minden házhoz emlék fűzi: itt volt gyerek és fiatal lány, itt volt édesanyja fűszerüzlete, innen deportálták, ide tért vissza, innen vonult be soha vissza nem tért bátyja, itt halt meg a nagymamája és az édesanyja, innen ment férjhez, és kb. húsz éve ide költözött vissza. Ez nem Újlipótváros, hanem Lipótváros, nagy a különbség a kettő között – emeli ki Zsuzsa néni. A ma is nagyon aktívan, a világ dolgaira nyitottan, kíváncsian élő 80 éves hölgy egyedül lakik, de nem magányos. Gyermekein, unokáin és dédunokáján kívül barátaival is rendszeres kapcsolatban áll, és mindennap lejár kártyázni a házukban lévő zsinagóga klubjába.

1927. január 19-én születtem. Budapesti vagyok. Nem! Pesti vagyok. Lipótvárosi nagyrészt, de nem azokkal az allűrökkel, amikről szoktak beszélni az újlipótvárosi nagyságákról. Azt kikérem magamnak! Hogy kikről tudok leginkább mesélni? Nagymamákról, nagypapákról, annál régebbről nem. Nem volt téma. Már őket is gyengén ismertem, de róluk még talán csak-csak tudok valamit, meg a nagybácsikról, nagynénikről, unokatestvérekről.

Apai nagypapámat nem ismertem. Bauer Manónak hívták. Rózsahegyen [Liptó vm.], mai nevén Ružomberokban született – ha ott született –, de mindenesetre ott élt, ott volt néptanító. A nagymama Steiner Fanni volt. Nagypapa halála után Budapestre jött. Fogalmam nincs róla, hogy miként került Pestre a gyerekeivel. Talán az első világháború idején kellett eljönniük.

Nagyon édes, helyes, igazi nagymama volt – ahogy azt a mesékben leírják –, aki szeretett mesélni, beszélgetni. De az ő életéről nem sokat tudok. Amit igen, az az, hogy a Váci út 12.-ben lakott a két lányával. A háztartás enyhén kóser volt, például disznóhúst nem ettek, szombaton nem dolgoztak, sokszor ették a sóletot. Gyertyagyújtás természetesen volt. Magától értetődő volt annak idején, de ők nem voltak különösebben vallásosak. Persze, tartották a nagyünnepeket, azt mindenki megtartotta. Ilyenkor találkoztunk a templomban, mert ők is ebbe a templomba jártak, ez volt az egész környék temploma. Ez a Hegedűs Gyula utcai, azelőtt Csáky utcai templom. Itt jött össze a család Jam Kiperkor, Ros Hasónekor.

Nagymama jóval a második világháború előtt, az 1930-as éves vége felé meghalt. Itt van eltemetve a Rákoskeresztúri neológ temetőben, a XXXVIII-as parcellában, ezt tudom, mert sírkövére édesapám nevét ráírattam, hogy legyen egy emlék neki is. Őt valószínű Kőszegen [Vas vm.] lőtték agyon.

Nagymama két lányával, a Juci nénivel meg a Margit nénivel élt együtt. Nem voltak férjnél, dolgoztak, tisztviselők voltak, Mabi-tagok [Magántisztviselők Biztosítási Intézete]. Emlékszem, arra nagyon büszkék voltak, hogy ők nem az OTI-hoz [Országos Társadalombiztosítási Intézet] tartoznak, hanem a Mabihoz. Tehát magánalkalmazottak voltak. Mind a ketten a gettóban maradtak, nem jöttek ki. Én a házban érdeklődtem, de senki nem is tudott róluk, valahogy nyoma veszett az egész családnak.

A harmadik nővér a Berta néni, ő férjnél volt, a Kádár utcában lakott. Férje Csiki Imre, egy szakszervezeti korifeus volt, erősen szociáldemokrata beállítottságú, már a két háború között is, meg utána is. Sokat volt illegalitásban. A fiuk, Gyuri két évvel volt idősebb nálam, kisgyerekként nagyon jóban voltunk. Berta néni a gettóban meghalt. A háború utáni időkről már nemigen tudok, férjhez mentem, elkerültem – a családnak ez az ága tőlem leszakadt.

Még egy nagybátyám volt, szintén édesapám testvére, Sándor bácsi. Igen jóképű ember volt, és nagyon udvarias. Velem is mint egy kis kisasszonnyal foglalkozott mindig. Túlélte a háborút, az esküvőmre is eljött. Anyukám valahogy fölfedezte, hogy ő megvan, küldött neki meghívót. Azon az esküvői képünkön, ami itt készült a zsinagóga előtt, s ami mutatja az örömszülőket meg végig az egész családot, ő is rajta van. [Lásd a képanyagban.]

Édesapám, László, Rózsahegyen született 1892-ben. Valószínűleg négy polgárit végzett. Ahogy én emlékszem, nagyon okos ember volt. Fiatalkoráról keveset tudok. Ügynök volt. Annak idején voltak olyan kereskedelmi utazók, akik járták az országot, azt hiszem, textil-dologban „utazott”. Elképzelhető, hogy apukám elment valami árut ajánlani anyukámékhoz a Szép Ilonkán lévő üzletükbe, és így találkoztak össze.

Váradi Salamon volt az anyai nagypapám. Egy irat tanúsága szerint 1896-ban magyarosította nevét Burgerból. Ahogy a Burger Váradi, hát arra magyarosított. A gyerekei neve is ekkor változott meg. Én már minden írásból így emlékszem rájuk. [Az iratmásolat a képanyagban.]

Amikor kisgyerek voltam, nagyszüleim Budán laktak, a Fő utca 73.-ban. Ezt nagyon jól tudom, mert rövid ideig náluk laktam, akkor, amikor anyukámék üzlete tönkrement. Jól éreztem magam, csak hát a nagymama szigorú volt. Emlékszem, egyszer nagy-nagy örömmel újságolta, hogy sikerült a piacon puliszkalisztet szereznie. Mivel erdélyiek voltak, nagyon szerette a puliszkát. Na, de én nem. És amikor azt mondta, hogy milyen finom puliszkát fog ő csinálni, köptem egyet. Voltam vagy ötéves. Akkor bizony megkaptam ezért a nyaklevesemet.

A családi legendáriumból tudom, hogy a nagypapám Máramarosszigetről [Máramaros vm.] származott. Ő is tanítóféle volt, de vallási tanító, úgynevezett melamed. Nagyon vallásos volt, ortodox, szigorúan betartott mindent élete végéig. Lekerült Barátosra, Sepsiszentgyörgy mellé Háromszék [vár]megyébe, Erdélybe. Ez teljesen magyar lakta székely vidék, ami sokáig változatlan maradt. Erről leginkább az egyik nagybátyám tudott mesélni, aki Amerikában élt. Amikor utoljára Magyarországra jött, elment megnézni a szülőfaluját, és azt mondta, pontosan ugyanolyannak látja, mint amikor otthagyta. Tehát Barátoson nagypapa megismerkedett a nagymamámmal, és összeházasodtak. Ő volt a Frieder Cilike.

Akkor nagyapám már nem tanító volt. Egy kocsmát meg egy fűszerüzletet nyitott, abból éltek. A nagymamám szülte egymásután a gyerekeket, azokat el kellett tartani. Tíz gyerek született, de abból négy torokgyíkban halt meg. Ahogy mesélték, volt úgy, hogy elment az egyik temetésére, mire hazaért, a másik meghalt. Úgyhogy a végén hat gyermeket neveltek föl. 1916-ban a románok bevonulása miatt menekültek Pestre. Attól kezdve itt éltek.

Elég nehezen kezdték itt az életet. Egy darabig vagonban laktak. Ez az első világháború idején történt, s akik menekültek, nem kaptak lakást. Aztán valahogy a Zugligetben lett egy lakásuk és egy nagyon szép fűszerüzletük a Szép Ilonkánál. Fénykép is van róla. [Lásd a képanyagban.] Ők vezették az üzletet, anyukám is itt dolgozott, később az édesapám is beállt. Anyukám fiútestvéreinek nagy része katona volt az első világháborúban, apukámról nem hallottam, hogy katona lett volna.

Énnekem az a sanda gyanúm, hogy az első világháború után, az 1920-as években kezdődtek már bizonyos zsidóüldözések, és valószínű, hogy lehetetlenné tették nagyapámat. Erős lehetett a ráhatás, hogy szűntessék meg az üzletet, ami túl előkelő helyen volt számukra. Ekkor meg is szűnt. Szüleimmel üzletileg szétváltak.

Nagyszüleim megérték 1930-ban az ötvenedik házassági évfordulójukat. Otthon tartották meg a budai lakásban. Gyönyörű szép volt. Még egészen kislány voltam. Megmaradt a kétnyelvű meghívó. Nagyon szép családi fényképek készültek, az egyiken ott van mindegyik nagybátyám, nagynéném, az egész rokonság, mint ahogy egy aranylakodalmon illik. A külföldön élő gyerekeik is mind hazajöttek. [A fényképet és a meghívót lásd a képanyagban.]

Anyukám, Ilona, 1895-ben született Barátoson. Úgy mesélte, négy polgárit végezett el még kint. De lehet, hogy nem volt az négy polgári, csak hat elemi. Hiszen akkoriban a lányok, ha a hat elemit elvégezték, azzal ők már végeztek a tanulással. De anyukám nagyon-nagyon jófejű volt, igen jól tudott számolni, és szép írása is volt.

Testvérei voltak: Lajos, András, Ármin, Mózes és Szerén. Közülük Lajos, a Lajcsi bácsi állt hozzám a legközelebb, talán két-három évvel volt idősebb nála. Kereskedő volt. Sikerült egy fűszerüzletet nyitnia a Király utca környékén. Azt a későbbiek során elcserélte egy nagyobbra, amiből egy gyönyörű szép csemege üzletet csinált. Egészen haláláig ott volt. Az üzlet továbbra is fenn állt, ameddig lehetett, de akkor ő már nem élt. Állítólag a segédje följelentése alapján hívták be muszosnak [munkaszolgálatosnak] Nagykátára [Pest-Pilis-Solt-Kiskun vm.], ahol a Muraihoz került, aki hírhedt ember volt. Egy hét alatt nagyon beteg lett, kiújult a gyomorfekélye. Fölhozták Budára, a katonai kórházba, megoperálták, a műtét sikerült, ő meghalt.

Nekem iszonyúan megrázó volt a dolog. Mentem a kórházba, hogy meglátogassam, és akkor mondták, hogy meghalt, akarom-e látni? Levittek a boncterembe, fölhajtották a lepedőt, és megláttam meztelenül – egy halottat. Rettenetesen megrázott, mert én ezt a nagybátyámat nagyon szerettem. És furcsa volt látnom, amikor mentem hazafelé, hogy a világ megy tovább, az emberek mennek dolgozni, mennek a villamosok, minden, holott a Lajcsi bácsi nem él. Ez 1941-ben volt, nagyon fiatal voltam.

Lajcsi bácsinak volt felesége [Hercog Erzsébet, Bözsi néni], de gyerekeik nem voltak, éppen ezért egy kicsit engem a magukénak is tekintettek. Ők tartották a széderestéket, amelyre anyukám, apukám, a nagymamám, nagypapa akkor már nem élt, a bátyám és én voltunk meghívva. Szép emlék nekem. Én találtam meg mindig az áfikóment [(héber) az a kovásztalan kenyérdarab, amelyet a széder végén fogyasztanak el], mert azt Lajcsi bácsi úgy dugta el, hogy én találjam meg. Én mondtam el a má nistánát [(héber) a négy kérdést], és egy tavaszikabát vagy egy ruha rendszerint abból jött ki. Nagyon szerettek engem, én is őket.

András bácsi volt a legidősebb fiú. Írói, költői hajlamokkal rendelkezett. 1920-ban, a kommün [Tanácsköztársaság] után valamiért – ki tudja? – menekülnie kellett. Ő és fivérei valószínűleg baloldaliak voltak. Amikor a Horthy-rezsim kezdődött, akkor mentek ki külföldre mindannyian [András, Ármin és Mózes]. Ő Bécsbe ment, és ott élt a feleségével, Wittmann Ilus nénivel, akinek egy nemzetközileg elismert kozmetikai iskolája volt a Kärtnerstrasse 21.-ben. Amikor először mentem Bécsbe, kerestem, s kiderült, hogy azt a házat lebombázták. Az Anschluss [Ausztria Harmadik Birodalomhoz csatolása a náci uralom alatt 1938-ban – A szerk.] után sikerült nekik az öccse révén, aki már Amerikában volt, kijutniuk először Kubába, mert közvetlenül Amerikába nem engedték be őket. Ott töltöttek egy évet. Valahogy eléltek, amíg kikerültek New Yorkba. Onnan, amikor már az Ilus néni meghalt, András bácsi eljutott Floridába, ahol a többi testvére élt. Összetalálkoztak. Egy idősek otthonába költözött, ott is halt meg, kb. 1970-ben.

Ármin bácsi korban András bácsi után következett, szintén kozmetikus lett. Egyedül ment Amerikába, s ott nyitott egy kozmetikai üzemet, amelyiknek még Párizsban meg Bécsben is volt részlege. Úgy emlékszem a cédulára, hogy New York–Vienna–Budapest. A feleségének pedig itthon volt kozmetikai intézete. Ő volt Pataky Aranka. Gyönyörű volt a kozmetikája a Palace mozi fölött. Az jó volt nekünk, mert onnan sok filmet láttunk a bátyámmal nyáron, amikor kinyitották a tetőt. Aranka néni igen jó háziasszony volt. Ragyogóan tudott sütni-főzni, és szerette is a vendégeket.

Volt egy lányuk, a Manci, az unokatestvérem, ő is itthon maradt. Később többször kint volt meglátogatni az apját, 1956-ban aztán végleg kiment. Addigra már neki is volt egy gyereke, Marika. Később kivitették az anyukát is, az Aranka nénit. Manci férje ifjú Kárpáti Aurél volt. Ő már nem íróember volt, mint az apja, hanem parlamenti gyorsíró, aki 450 szótagos sebességgel tudott írni. Erre most már talán nincs is szükség. Ez azt jelenti, hogy a közbeszólásokat is le kellett írnia, mindig mesélte. Nagyon helyes ember volt. Ő is kiment velük, ott is haltak meg. Biztos, Manci sem él már. Egy darabig leveleztünk, de aztán abbamaradt. Elszakadtunk egymástól.

Nagybátyám volt még a Mózi [Mózes]. Ő is ugyanakkor ment ki Amerikába. Kint Michael Mozes Varadi lett, pontosabban Michael M. Varadi. Amerikában nősült, de egy nagyon rövid ideig tartó házassága volt, azt a nőt nem is ismerte senki. Aztán jött látogatóba, és itt megismerkedett egy leányzóval, a Rátkai Györgyivel, és őt vitte ki magával feleségnek. Györgyi apja Rátkai Tivadar, aki Rátkai Mártonnak [(1881–1951) színész, Kossuth-díjas, érdemes és kiváló művész – A szerk.] volt a testvére. Ő egyáltalán nem volt színészember, hanem nagyon is prózai ipari területen dolgozott. A felesége, Margó néni volt az, aki tartotta a színpaddal, a színészekkel a kapcsolatot. Rátkai Rózsival, a Márton feleségével mindenhova együtt jártak. Nagyon bírtam, nagyon szerettem őket. Még amikor idejött hozzánk látogatóba a Györgyi meg a Mózi, akkor is mindig a Rózsival voltak együtt. Többször jártak nálunk, aztán egyszer engem meg is hívtak. Úgyhogy 1966-ban kint voltam náluk, két hónapot töltöttem Amerikában, Floridában, Miamiban.

Ez volt az első repülőutam, s az Amerikába vitt mindjárt. Mondta a nagybátyám, hogy a gépen mindent fogadjak el, amivel megkínálnak, csak az italt ne. Ezért amikor Budapesten fölszálltunk, és Bécsig repültünk – akkor az volt a divat, hogy a stewardessek megkínálnak egy pohár Coca-Colával vagy narancslével –, nem mertem elfogadni, hátha fizetni kell érte, és nálam nem volt semmi pénz. Amsterdamban hagyott nekem a nagybátyám 20 dollárt, és a magyar államtól kaptam 5 dollárt. Közben kiderült persze, hogy ez hozzátartozott az ellátáshoz. Sose bocsátom meg magamnak, hogy akkor nem ittam Coca-Colát. Igaz, hogy azóta utálom, de mégis.

Kint olyan úrinő voltam két hónapig, hogy hajaj! Mindig kérdeztem, hogy én, a szürke kis veréb, hogy jutottam egy ilyen csodálatos helyre?! Mert akkor nekem minden, amit ott láttam, és amit ott átéltem, fantasztikus csoda volt. Andris bácsi még megvolt, de nagyon öreg volt, találkoztam és beszélgettem vele az idősek otthonában. Ármin bácsi már nem élt. De Mózival és Györgyivel együtt voltam, és nagyon jó volt.

Amikor kiértem Miamiba, a nagybátyám épp kórházban volt. Tehát nem tudtunk annyira körülnézni Amerikában, mint ahogy szerettük volna. De azért a Floridai-félszigetet körbeutaztuk, voltunk krokodilparkban, papagájparkban, csodálatos vidéken, ahol volt egy nagy tó, az Okeechobee-tó, s ahol a vízen gyönyörű balettet mutattak be. Voltam lóversenyen, agárversenyen, és ami most már itt is divat, fallabdaversenyen. Ugyanúgy lehetett fogadni a versenyzőkre, mint ahogy a lovakra például. Rájuk nem, de a lovakra fogadtam, veszítettem is. Egyszer az én tiszteletemre tartottak egy brunchot [(angol) villásreggeli]. Móziék egyik barátnőjénél volt, aki úgy-ahogy tudott magyarul, meg tudtuk egymást érteni. Azt hiszem, akkor ittam először pezsgőbólét. És lazacot ettem szeletben! Finom volt.

Hát már jó ideje volt, és én még emlékszem mindenre, mintha tegnap lett volna. Hogy ott a liftben halkan szólt a zene, mert egy tényleg nagyon előkelő apartman házban laktak. Utána hallottam, hogy egy még előkelőbb helyre költöztek – de most már egyik sincs. Nagynéném, a Györgyi hamar elment. A nagybátyám jó 80 fölött volt. Ezzel meg is szűntek az amerikai nagybácsik.

Ők ott élték a kivándorolt magyar zsidóknak a sorsát, nem azt, amit az 56-osok, hanem amit a régiek. Erősen gyökeret eresztettek. Volt Miamiba is egy magyar közösség, ahol találkoztak, ünnepekkor pedig a templomban. Egész komoly társadalmi életet éltek. Összejártak, szociális munkákat végeztek, mert addigra már nyugdíjasok voltak. A nagynéném igen jótékonykodó volt. A háznak, ahol laktak, volt egy önálló könyvtára, ő vezette azt. Időnként pedig a kórházba bejárt önkéntesnek. Szóval, ilyen munkákat végzett, mert valamivel csak el kellett foglalnia magát. Ezek nem kapcsolódtak sem vallási, sem magyar dolgokhoz.

Amerikában a vallással pontosan úgy voltak, mint mi itt. Nem voltak kóserok, de a nagyünnepeket tartották, és valamelyik templomban emléktáblát csináltatott Mózi a szülei emlékére. Úgyhogy ők meg vannak ott örökítve. Én nem mentem el oda, arra már nem volt időnk. Ármin bácsi sírjához kimentünk, persze, a zsidó temetőbe.

Amikor Móziék először jöttek haza a háború után látogatóba, 1960-ban, mind a kettő nagyon törte a magyart, de aztán előjöttek dolgok. És az utolsó útja a nagybátyámnak Erdélybe vezetett, mert őneki még azt a Barátost meg kell néznie, ahol felnőtt. Azt mondta, azért érzi magát ilyen jól, mert a faluja és a brassói [Brassó vm.] gimnáziumnak az emlékét őrzi, azok levegője van benne. Addigra már megint nagyon szépen, jól beszélt magyarul. A többi nagybátyám sokkal jobban beszélt, de Mózi üzletember volt, ő többet használta az angolt, elég sokat felejtett, de amikor elkezdett beszélni, belejött.

Szerénnek hívták édesanyám nővérét, azt hiszem, ő még az Andrásnál is idősebb volt. Már nem ismerhettem. Férjhez ment, Mezei Pálné lett, született egy kislánya, Piroska, az unokatestvérem, akit nagyon-nagyon szerettem. Szerénnel szülés után történt valami, beteg lett – nagypapa szerint a dibuksz szállta meg. Ez kabbalista megnyilvánulás volt, ami a nagypapa vallástörténeti tudását jellemzi. Szerén 1925-ben halt meg Pesten, Farkasréten van eltemetve a zsidó temetőben. Felnőve Piroska férjhez ment a Brieger Sándorhoz, sajnos mind a ketten elpusztultak. Piroska Bergen-Belsenben [Németország], Sándor Kőszegen.

Itt maradt két gyerekük, akik a háború után kikerültek Izraelbe. A fiú, Kálmán az Exodussal [annak a hajónak a neve, amely 300 árva zsidó gyereket szállított 1946 végén Ciprus szigetéről Palesztinába – A szerk.], a lány, Olga egy illegális hajóval. A Cionista Szövetség segített nekik. Nagyon megfogták őket. Fanatikusan, elvakultan csak arra tudtak gondolni, hogy Izrael, Izrael, Izraelbe kell menni. Ki is jutottak, szépen boldogultak.

Kálmán időközben meghalt. Nehezen viselte az életet, nem tudott megalkudni. Ment, dolgozott – láttam, mert voltam kint, és találkoztam vele –, volt egy szép irodája, egy könyvelési irodát vezetett, de állandóan életunt volt. Talán mert nem lehetett gyereke. Örökbe fogadtak kettőt, de azokkal nem volt megelégedve, meg a feleségével sem.

Az unokahúgomnak ott Rachel lett a neve. Bankban dolgozott, most már ő is, a férje is nyugdíjas. Valahogy nincs tisztában azzal, hogy mi lett anyjával, apjával – vagy nagyon is tisztában van vele? Izraelben az örökös harcok közben valahogy nem gondolnak azokra, akik a holokausztban elpusztultak. Pedig hát ő is holokauszt túlélő. Mondtam neki, hogy kint Farkasréten megvan nagyanyjának, Szerénnek a sírja, legalább arra vésesse rá a szüleinek vagy az anyjának a nevét. Egyáltalán nem is érdeklődött azután, hogy kimenjen a temetőbe. Pedig gyakran jön, szerintem Budapestet jobban ismeri, mint én.

Először akkor voltam Izraelben, amikor még elég zűrös volt utazni, 1982-ben. Bukarestig mentem Malév-géppel, onnan a Tarommal, a román légitársaság gépével tovább, mert senki más nem vitt akkor még innen. Ők pedig ugyan forintért, de a dollár feketeárfolyamán számolva. Izraellel abban az időben nem volt diplomáciai kapcsolatunk. A svájci követségnél volt egy ügyvivő, aki az izraeli vízumokat intézte, három hétig tartott, mire megkaptam. És közjegyzői engedély kellett, hogy hívnak. Ők hívtak Tel-Avivba, és egy másik unokaöcs a férjem részéről, aki Haifán él. Így töltöttem el négy hetet, két hetet az egyiknél, két hetet a másiknál. Csodálatos volt.

Másodszor 8–9 évvel ezelőtt voltam náluk, már vízum nélkül lehetett utazni. Akkor három hetet töltöttem kint, két hetet a Racheléknél, egy hetet pedig Haifán. Az különösen érdekes volt, mert az unokaöcsém építész, és mint ilyen szombaton elvitt több érdekes helyre, ahol római romok maradtak, és azokról szépen magyarázott, mutatott cirkuszt, ilyesmit – szóval nagyon-nagyon klassz volt.

Az izraeli rokonok abszolút nem vallásosak. Ha valakire haragszanak, az a Sasz Párt, ők az ultraortodoxok, akik teljes egészében gátolják Izraelben a fejlődést. Nem engedik az egyházi esküvőt, még polgári esküvőt sem engednek különböző fajta embereknek. Úgyhogy ott az a divat, hogy átjárnak Ciprusra házasodni. Mindent meggátolnak ezzel a rettentő nagy vallásossággal. Van, aki nem ismeri el Izrael államot. Ott él, ott lakik, busás hasznot szed, nem megy el katonának, de kap pénzt, azért, hogy ott tanuljon. És az izraeli államnak el kell viselnie, hogy őket ott helyben szidják. Kit is lőttek agyon? [Jichak Rabint (1922–1995), Izrael miniszterelnöke 1974–1977 és 1992–1995 között, Nobel-békedíjas Jasszer Arafattal együtt. Ő adta ki a jelszót: Területért – békét! Hajlandó volt tárgyalni korábbi ellenfelével, Arafattal a palesztin autonómiáról, az ott állomásozó izraeli katonák kivonásáról, vagyis Ciszjordánia és a Gáza-övezet önrendelkezéséről. Washingtonban nyújtottak egymásnak kezet, majd Oslóban szerződésben rögzítették a megállapodást. – A szerk.] Őt is egy ilyen ultraortodox lőtte agyon. Hát szeressék akkor őket? Nem tudom elképzelni. Én egyébként úgy vagyok vele, hogy nagyon szép, nagyon jó Izrael, de azért nem élnék ott.

Tehát szüleim az ország két [később] elszakított részéből kerültek össze Budapesten. 1919. február 6-án volt az esküvőjük, decemberben már jött a bátyám. Könnyen lehet, hogy az ő esküvőjük is itt a Csáky utcai templomban volt, mert ez akkor már állt, ez volt közel. Abban az időben a Lehel utca 26.-ban laktak. Amikor nagypapáék üzlete tönkrement, ott nyitottak egy fűszerüzletet, ahol azóta is mindig üzlet van. Egy helyiségből állt, kb. 20 m² lehetett. Zöldség meg fűszer volt benne. Valószínű, hogy apám ment el vásárolni a Nagyvásártelepre. Anyukám volt az üzletben, és mindig volt egy kifutófiú, aki a megrendelt árut házhoz vitte.

Lakásunk az üzlet mögött volt, egy sötét, udvari lakás. Két szoba, konyha, nem hiszem, hogy volt fürdőszoba, WC is az udvarban. Egészen primitív proli lakás volt. Én oda születtem, a Weiss Alice-ban [Gyermekágyas Otthon a Szabolcs utcában, amelyet Weiss Manfréd iparmágnás alapított felesége emlékére a budakeszi Tüdőszanatóriummal együtt. – A szerk.]. Amikor egész picike voltam, jóformán az udvarban éltem a bátyámmal. Van egy fénykép, ahol a Lehel utca 26. gyermekei vannak együtt. Rengeteg gyerek volt abban a házban. Az egy régi, nagyon-nagy ház, most is megvan. Amikor arrafelé megyek, mindig megnézem, hogy na, itt tanultam meg járni. A sarkon egy kocsma volt, annak lépcsőjén tanultam meg mászni. Persze ezt anyukám mesélte.

Amikor volt a nagy gazdasági válság [1929–1933-as világgazdasági válság], szüleim is tönkrementek. Az üzletet be kellett zárni, el kellett költözni. Egy rövid időre albérletbe mentek a Nagydiófa utcába, ahol sokszor járt a végrehajtó, mert nyilván adósságok voltak, és hozták az utolsó figyelmeztetést. Mondták is, hogy megszűnik az adóhivatal, mert elküldte az utolsó figyelmeztetést. Ekkor történt az, hogy nagymamáék elvittek hozzájuk, Budára.

Az albérletből a Csáky utca 8.-ba költöztünk. Apukám ügynökölt, anyukám pedig az OMTK tejcsarnok vállalatnál lett üzletvezető a Csáky utca 9.-ben. [OMTK – Országos Magyar Tejszövetkezeti Központ, alapítva 1922-ben. – A szerk.] Még nem jártam iskolába, apukám még velünk volt. Aztán megszűnt a tejcsarnoki megbízás, anyukám kiváltotta az ipart a Csáky utca 4.-ben lévő fűszerüzletre.

Szüleim 18 évi házasság után elváltak. Apukám hibájából mondták ki a válást, elég botrányos eset volt. El is ment Pestről. Tudomásom szerint, a nálunk dolgozó mindeneslánnyal történt a baj, állítólag még gyerek is lett. Örkényben alapított új családot. A válás után csak egyszer-kétszer találkoztam vele, mert anyám nagyon haragudott rá, és teljesen elszakított bennünket tőle. Felnőtt fejjel, amikor már jobban megértettem a dolgokat, ez igen fájt. Annyira, hogy később kerestem vele a kapcsolatot, és úgy tudtam meg, hogy édesapámat, valószínű Kőszegen, agyonlőtték. De hogy mi lett az új családdal, arról semmit sem tudok.

Amikor apámtól külön vált anyukám, akkor mentünk át a Csáky utca 9.-be. A válás idején halt meg a nagypapa, és mi összeköltöztünk a nagymamával.

Érdekes volt ez a ház, ez a Csáky utca 9. Földszintjének egyik oldalán egy ortodox imaház volt. Úgyhogy ráláttunk az emeletről. Jóformán csak zsidó lakott itt, zsidó ház is lett, aztán csillagos ház. 1944-ben teljesen lebombázták, most már egy másik ház van a helyén. Azóta rettenetesen haragszom a 7.-re, mert amikor a házat lebombázták, anyukámék otthon voltak. Nagy szőnyegbombázás volt. Én nem voltam itthon, hadiüzemben dolgoztam, az is kapott bombát akkor. A Nyugati pályaudvar helyett ez a ház meg a szemben lévő 6. számú teljes bombatalálatot kapott. Úgy jött ki anyukám és a nagymamám a 9.-ből, hogy a 7.-en keresztül kellett menniük, a vészkijáraton át, mert mindenütt romok voltak. Így kerültek át az 5.-be. 7.-be nem akarták őket beengedni, mert az nem volt csillagos ház, és ők még annyira sem akartak zsidókat befogadni, hogy átmenjenek a másik házba. Hát ez valami rettenetes! Azóta már biztos, hogy nem ugyanazok laknak ott, de énbennem olyan gyűlölet van az iránt a ház iránt, hogy akárhányszor elmegyek előtte, azt gondolom: „De utálom ezeket az embereket!” Nem tehetek róla. Mit csináljak? Ez bennem van.

Az 5. számú házhoz még egy szomorú emlék kapcsolódik. Amikor a nagymamám meg az anyukám végre kiszabadultak a gettóból, visszajöttek abba lakásba, ahonnan elmentek, és a nagymama a felszabadulás napján ott halt meg. Még nem lehetett sehova se kivinni temetőbe, ott temették el a ház kis előkertjében. Majdnem egy év telt el, amikor exhumálták, és kivitték az ortodox temetőbe, akkor volt a hivatalos temetése.

Tehát a Csáky utca 9.-ben az első emeleten volt egy kétszobás udvari lakásunk, fürdőszobával, WC külön, tehát itt már komfortosan éltünk. Nagymamának fel kellett számolnia a budai lakást, sok bútortól meg kellett szabadulnia a költözéskor. Sem a nagyszüleim, sem mi nem voltunk gazdagok, volt néhány régi bútor és kép, ezüst nem. Nagymama abból élt, amit a fiai küldtek Amerikából. Minden hónapban kapott egy bizonyos dollárösszeget az egyik bankhoz, azt váltotta be. És a fűszerüzletből jutott neki is főznivaló.

Együtt laktunk, az egyik szobában a nagymamám, a másik szobában mi hárman, de ő külön háztartást vezetett a közös konyhában. Nagyon ügyesen oldották meg. Két kredenc volt, az egyik kredencben voltak az ő edényei, a másikban a mieink. Nagymama hamarabb megfőzött, és mindig korábban evett, mint mi. Élete végéig szigorúan kóser háztartást vezetett, sakternál vágatott. Mi nem. Sőt, külön mindenese volt, tehát ketten voltak nálunk.

Angéla nevű volt a nagymamámnál. Amikor én voltam 16 éves, ő 20–22, nem nagy korkülönbség. Tegeztük egymást, és barátnők is voltunk egy kicsit. Nem volt zsidó, sőt, ő volt az, aki a mellettünk levő ortodox hitközségi elnöknél a szombati lámpagyújtást megcsinálta. Mert az óbudai Freudiger Fülöp volt a szomszédunk, aki akkor a Budapesti ortodox hitközségnek volt az elnöke. Én őt személyesen nem ismertem. Az utcai fronton laktak, mi az udvarin, és az egészen más világ volt. [Freudiger Fülöp (1900–1976) az 1944. március 21-én, Eichmann utasítására megalakult Magyar Zsidók Központi Tanácsa, azaz a Zsidó Tanács tagja volt. – A szerk.]

Tubicsák Mariska volt nálunk a mindenes. Vele is jól megvoltunk. Egészen az 1944-es időkig kitartott mellettünk. Akkor ment el, amikor már muszáj volt, amikor már elküldtek mindenkit. Anyukának még a gettóba is próbált bevinni valamit, de aztán vissza kellett mennie Nagykátára, ahol lakott. Férjhez ment, eltűnt, többet nem hallottunk felőle.

Péntekenként gyertyát gyújtottunk, a nagymama külön, anyukám külön. Mindegyik szobában égtek a péntek esti gyertyák. A nagymama szombaton eljárt a templomba, nem kellett messzire mennie, csak ide a 3.-ba. Én meg akármelyik iskolába jártam, minden péntek délután kötelező volt elmennem az istentiszteletre. Annak viszont nagyon örültem, hogy szeptemberben engem irigyeltek a keresztény gyerekek, mert alig hogy megkezdődött a tanév, jöttek az ünnepek, és akkor nem mentem iskolába. És amikor jöttek a zsidó ünnepek, ha előtte csúnya idő is volt, akkorra mindig szép idő lett. Ez biztos. Most is így van. A nagyünnepeket az egész család megtartotta, együtt mentünk a templomba.

Nagymamám gyönyörű barcheszt tudott sütni. Finom is volt. Fantasztikusan tudta fonni, rakni, nagyon élveztem. A szomszéd házban volt a pékség, oda vittük péntek délután a sóletot fazékban lekötözve, a barcheszt, meg ha valami pitét vagy lepényt csináltunk. Szombaton délben az én dolgom volt, hogy mind hazavigyem.

Anyukám nagyon finom töltött fogast tudott csinálni. Nem volt az akármi! Lehúzta a bőrét, húsát megdarálta, megízesítette, majd visszatöltötte. Az egészet úgy főzte meg, hogy az kocsonyás lett. A fogasnak a feje meg a farka fölállt, s körülötte a kocsonya – hát az valami isteni volt! Mindig az én születésnapom készült. A töltött hal zsidó recept, de ahogy az anyukám készítette, az nem volt zsidós kaja. A nagymama készített töltött meg diós halat, ezek zsidó eledelek voltak. Megkóstoltam ezeket is, de az én nagymamám nem nagyon kínálgatott a főztjéből.

Anyukának a Csáky utca 4.-ben volt fűszerüzlete. Csak egy kifutófiú segített neki. Hajnalban kiment a Nagyvásártelepre. Amíg a fuvaros hazahozta az árut, egy kicsit lepihent. Reggel hétkor vagy nyolckor nyitott, és este hatig volt nyitva. De ha jött egy vevő, akkor még a lehúzott redőny mögött is kiszolgálta. Ebédszünet nem volt. A mindenes főzött, bevitte az üzletbe az ebédet, és anyukám ott megette. Mi meg otthon ettünk.

Bátyám, Ferkó, 1919. december 16-án született. Nagyon jó testvér volt, nagyon szerettem. Hét évvel volt idősebb nálam. Amikor anyukám már egyedül volt velünk, kicsit apám is volt. Elkeresztelt Kutyunak, másként nem is hívott, a levelekben is csak így szólított, Kutyikám.

Elemibe a Dózsa György, akkor Aréna úti iskolába járt, utána a Honvéd utcai polgáriba. Ahol most a Honvéd tér van, ott volt egy polgári iskola, amit teljesen lebombázták. Közepes tanuló volt, az írása pedig rettenetes, alig lehetett olvasni – na, én tudtam. Megcsinálta vele egyszer azt a magyartanára valami dolgozatírásnál, hogy egy fehér papírlapot kivágott egy szónál, azt rátette az ő fogalmazványára, és azt mondta: „Na most olvasd el ezt a szót!” Ő maga sem tudta. Ha az egészet látja, a mondat értelméből tud következtetni. A tanár pontosan erre volt kíváncsi: „Na ugye, ha te nem tudod elolvasni, akkor én hogy olvassam el?”

Ferkó tagja volt az iskolai cserkészcsapatnak. Nem volt külön zsidó csapat. Farkaskölyök volt, amikor készült róla a cserkészruhás fénykép. [Lásd a képanyagban.] Nagyon nagy élménye volt, hogy részt vehetett Gödöllőn [Pest-Pilis-Solt-Kiskun vm.] a dzsemborin. [Itt rendezték meg 1933-ban csak fiúk számára a Cserkész Világtalálkozót. – A szerk.] Ott volt a legfőbb cserkész, Lord Baden-Powell [1857–1941], aki megalapítója volt a cserkészetnek. Sátorban laktak, rengeteg izgalmas feladat és program volt. Később is sokat mesélt róla.

Újpesten volt akkoriban egy technikumnak megfelelő, szövő- és hurkolóipari iskola. Ő a szövőipari technológiát végezte el a négy polgári után, és így mint technikus érettségizett le. Az iskolába kerülésnek előfeltétele volt, hogy legalább egy évet gyakorlaton kellett lenni. Ezt az időt a Goldberger gyárban töltötte. Minden osztályon végigment, akkor tényleg mint gyakornok, hogy legyen fogalma a dolgokról. Az iskolában megtanult szőni, gyönyörű anyagokat és mintákat tervezett Jacquard-szövőgépre. A géptant is megtanulta. Szóval ez komoly, jó iskola volt. Érettségi után, amikor visszament a gyárba, már jöttek a zsidótörvények, és őt küldöncnek meg trógernak használták. Akkor anyukám azt mondta: „Ezzel az erővel sokkal több hasznot hajtasz, ha itt vagy velem az üzletben.” Attól kezdve a bátyám volt anyukám segítsége. Onnan is hívták be katonának [1941-ben].

Először karpaszományos lett. Mint érettségizettnek csak egy évig kellett volna önkéntesnek lennie, de mikor vége lett az évnek, levetkőztették, és ment munkaszolgálatosnak Esztergom-táborba [Esztergom vm.]. Ott még meg tudtuk meglátogatni, időnként ő is hazajött. Utána egy ideig Gödöllőn volt, aztán elkerült a Felvidékre, Hársfalvára [Bereg vm.]. A vitrinben őrzök egy fakéregre préselt virágot, amit még a bátyám küldött onnan édesanyámnak anyák napjára. Rajta van a dátum: „1942. május 5. Anyák napja.” Ez nekem egy nagyon-nagyon édes emlék.

Aztán elvitték Ukrajnába. Persze küldtünk neki mindenkivel mindent. Akkor volt olyan, hogy a keretlegények jöttek, és hogy ha ezt odaadjuk, azt odaadjuk, akkor neki jobb lesz. Hát mi mindent odaadtunk, csomagot készítettünk, hogy megkapta-e, azt nem tudtuk ellenőrizni. Valószínűleg nem. Attól kezdve már nem tudtunk róla semmit. Kerestettük a Vöröskereszttel is. Végül kaptunk egy papírt, hogy 1943. január 16-án Osztrogoszknál eltűnt. De előtte még valamelyik társa, akinek sikerült megmenekülnie, a menyasszonyához ment azzal a hírrel, hogy már nagyon súlyos vérhassal került át orosz fogságba, és ott nyoma veszett.

Ferkó menyasszonya, Vera, itt lakott a Kádár utca 10.-ben. Édesapja zenész volt, elég szegényesen éltek. A Kerakra, a Kereskedelmi Akadémiára járt az Alkotmány utcában, ott is érettségizett. De aztán kitanulta a fűzőkészítést, mert akkor már hiába volt akármilyen érettségije, fizikai munkát kellett végeznie. Mesélte, hogy micsoda ronda nők járnak fűzőket csináltatni. Amikor már abszolút biztos lett, hogy a bátyám nem jön vissza, férjhez ment, és nagyon szép családja lett. Tudományos pályán dolgozott. Találkoztam vele többször is. Egy időben férjet akart nekem keresni, ami nem sikerült. Aztán megszakadt a kapcsolatunk.

Óvodába nem jártam, elemibe a Sziget utcába, a mai Radnóti Miklós utcai Gárdonyi Géza iskolába. Utána a Szemere utcai polgáriba, és nagyon nehezen, nagyon-nagy protekcióval –akkor már erős numerus clausus volt – kerültem a Dobó Katica kereskedelmibe. A saját osztályfőnököm járt utána, hogy engem oda fölvegyenek, mert kitűnő tanuló voltam mindig. Vastag betűs. Nem tudom, ismered-e ezt a fogalmat?

Valamikor régen az iskolák évente kiadtak egy évkönyvet. Az iskola történetén kívül minden évfolyam minden gyereke és összes osztályzata benne volt. Aki tiszta kitűnő volt, annak a nevét és az osztályzatait vastag betűkkel írták, aki jeles volt, annak dőlt betűkkel, aki pedig még az alatt végzett, annak rendes, normál betűkkel.

Én mindig vastag betűs voltam, a polgáriban is, a kereskedelmiben is. Ez igen lényeges volt, mert a fűszerüzletből ugyan megéltünk, de nem voltunk gazdagok. S hogy kitűnő tanuló voltam, végig tandíjmentes lehettem. Ez nagy szó volt, mert bizony tandíjat fizettünk már a polgáriban is. Úgyhogy a mostaniak ne csodálkozzanak, hogy tandíjat kell fizetni. Fizettünk mi is annakidején. Komoly dolog volt, mert én tudom, hogy az egész tandíj egy hónapra 16 pengő volt, volt fél tandíj is, 8 pengő, negyed tandíj 4 pengő, és volt a tandíjmentes. Amikor havi 200 pengő fixből… ugye? [Utalás egy régi slágerre: „Havi 200 pengő fixszel, az ember könnyen viccel…” – A szerk.]

Nagyon jó tanuló voltam, de a kézügyességem egyenlő volt a nullával. A bátyám viszont ezekben remekelt. Mindig az utolsó percben jutott eszembe, hogy másnapra milyen mértani testet kell beadni. Mérges is volt, ha randevúja lett volna, de azért megcsinálta nekem gyönyörű szépen. Belülről keményebb kartonból, majd azt újra beragasztotta fehér kartonnal, a széleire pedig színes papírcsíkokat rakott. Úgyhogy mindig jó osztályzatot kaptam rá.

Az elemi iskolában túlnyomórészt zsidók voltunk. Nem volt antiszemitizmus. Emlékszem, volt egy osztálytársnőnk, Kollár Vilma, akinek az apja már a náci Németországban dolgozott, és meghívta a lányát. Amikor visszajött, Hitler-Jugend ruhája volt. Egyébként szegények voltak, és egyáltalán nem hencegett vele, inkább mi voltunk azok, akik őt így elutasítottuk.

Semmi megkülönböztetés nem volt a polgáriban sem. Osztályfőnökünk Székely Vilmosné volt. Hittanórán ment mindenki a saját hitvallásának megfelelő tanárhoz vagy a tisztelendőhöz.

A kereskedelmiben már volt, pontosabban a felvételnél. Amikor bekerültem, négy zsidót vettek föl az évfolyamba, pedig három osztály indult. Körülbelül 40 fő volt egy osztályban. A C osztály volt a vegyes osztály, ahol voltak katolikusok, reformátusok, mert még az is külön ment, és a négy zsidó kislány. De az tény, hogy bent az iskolában már semmi megkülönböztetés nem volt. Rendesen jártunk hittanra. A tanárunk egy egészen fiatal, akkor végzett rabbi volt, dr. Komlós Ottó. Nagyon rosszak voltunk nála mint kis csitrik. Egyszer fölvetette: „Kislányok, én a tanáruk vagyok, mégis úgy illene, hogy előre köszönjenek nekem, de én úgy veszem észre, hogy nem nagyon akarnak.” Erre a legközelebbi szombaton hittan után kimentünk a kapu elé, megvártuk mind a négyen, s amikor kijött a Totóka, hangos kezicsókolommal köszöntünk neki, és úgy jöttünk el.

Magyartanárunk, osztályfőnökünk a Málcsi néni, dr. Erdélyi Amália, ő fél zsidó volt. Akkor még nem tudtuk biztosan, de utána megtudtuk, hogy ő is a gettóban volt, a nővére ott halt éhen. És ez az Erdélyi Amália, amikor én visszajöttem a „dzsemboriból” – csak így nevezem a deportálásomat –, eljött hozzánk, és azt mondta: „Zsuzsa, nem szabad, hogy évvesztesége legyen, magának a többiekkel ebben az évben le kell érettségiznie.” Május 24-én jöttem haza 1945-ben. Úgy oldottuk meg, hogy a 4. osztályt mint magántanuló végeztem el, így levizsgáztam, és az érettségire már a többiekkel együtt júliusban elmentem.

Zsidó osztálytársaim közül egy nem jött vissza. Hechner Klári Kanadában él, Beckmann Vera New Yorkba került ki, már meghalt rákban. Érettségi idején nem találkoztam velük, de később, érettségi találkozón igen.

Az iskolán kívüli elfoglaltságaim között legfontosabb a tánc volt. Öt évig tanultam az Utassy Gizinél [az Országos Színészegyesület Színészképző Iskolájának tanára – A szerk.] balettot, szteppet, mindent. Nagyon jó tánciskolája volt a Teréz körút 6.-ban, a Sugár és Barna házban. Havi tandíjamat nagybátyám, a Lajcsi bácsi fedezte. Amikor 3. osztályos lettem, egyszerre kezdtem el zongorázni és táncolni. Anyukámat behívta a tanító néni, hogy itt valamin változtatni kell, mert a gyereknek ez sok. Zongoránk nem volt, a gyakorlást nehezen tudtuk megoldani. Anyukám föltette a kérdést: „Melyiket, kislányom?” Én természetesen rögtön a táncot választottam.

A táncvizsgákon léptünk fel, de egyszer más is volt 1940–41-ben. A Vígszínház kamara színháza volt akkor a jelenlegi Vidám Színpad a Révay utcában. Ott játszották Szép Ernő darabját Szerelem címmel, amiben Dajka Margitnak egy mozgásművészeti iskolája volt. Oda választottak ki néhány gyereket, én is köztük voltam. Ez egy 50 előadást megért széria volt.

Emlékszem, a próbák alatt egyszer elkéstem, anyukám nem tudott időben elvinni. A rendező, nem tudom, ki volt, azt mondta: „Aki elkésett, annak ki kell menni.” Elkezdtem sírni, s akkor a Dajka Margit az ölébe vett, és megkínált egy bonbonnal! Megvigasztalt. És hát persze minden rendbe jött.

Akkori nagy színészek játszottak a darabban. Sulyok Mária [1908–1987] és Dajka Margit [1907–1986] volt a két ellenfél, Somló István [1902–1971] és Szilassy László [1908–1972] is szerepelt benne, ez utóbbi még játszott is velünk iskolásat, azt az ugrálós iskolásat a próbaszünetben. A premieren pedig ott volt az Alpár Gitta [(1903–1991) énekesnő] is. Lejött az öltözőbe. Gyönyörű hófehér ruha volt rajta. Ilyenekre emlékszik az ember. Úgyhogy ez nagy szenzáció volt nekem.

A színházban minden nap három pengő fellépti díjat kaptam, ami komoly pénz volt. Anyukámnak strapás volt az egész, mert kísért oda-vissza, és csak a 3. felvonásban szerepeltünk, ami elég későn volt. De volt nekem egy külön jutalmam. Amikor mentünk hazafelé, persze gyalog, és az Ilkovics büféje előtt mentünk el, onnan kijárt mindig 20 fillérért egy adag rósejbni. Az valami isteni jó volt.

Az Ilkovicsnál volt az első automata büfé a városban. Általában minden 20 fillér volt, mert ugye a húszfillérest be lehetett dobni. Úgy volt – azóta is lehet látni ilyet –, hogy a 20 fillér bedobása után az ablak odafordult, és amit abból a sorból választottam, azt kiemeltem. Ragyogó, szép szendvicsek is voltak így kirakva. Néha ez is volt, de a rósejbni minden nap. [Az Ilkovics büfé híres étteremkombinát volt a Nyugatival szemben, a mai Skála Metro Áruház helyén, ahol cukrászműhely, állóbüfé, söntés, hagyományos és önkiszolgáló étterem is működött. A pályaudvarral szemben volt az állóbüférész automatákkal, kávésarokkal, melegpulttal. A háború után a közellátást segítette, és bezárásáig az „utca népének” kedvelt helye volt. – A szerk.]

Az iskolában németet és olaszt tanultam. Rövid ideig angol különórákat vettem a bátyámmal együtt Fischer Feritől, akit aztán behívtak katonának. Nagyon jóképű ember volt, és tökéletesen beszélt angolul. Állítólag kikerült a háború után Angliába. Mi is beszéltünk róla, hogy hátha sikerül kijutnunk valamilyen formában… Amikor a nagybátyám 1960-ban eljött látogatóba Amerikából, néhány szót szóltam hozzá angolul, és azt mondta, hogy gyönyörű a kiejtésem. Azt én a Fischer Feritől tanultam. Később jártam TIT-tanfolyamra, hogy valami maradjon bennem. Jó nyelvérzékem van, amit kellett, azt mindig el tudtam németül is, angolul is magyarázni.

A Hollán utcában, ahol most a zeneiskola van, volt az V. kerületnek egy zsidó művelődési központja az OMIKE-n [Országos Magyar Izraelita Kulturális Egyesület] keresztül. Már a kereskedelmibe jártam, amikor összejött ott egy társaságunk, öt-hat lány, a fiúk pedig hozzánk csapódtak. Ők pár évvel idősebbek voltak, úgy húsz körül – szegények!, jóformán egyik sem jött vissza. Megalakítottuk az úgynevezett Csillag önképző kört. Itt nem tanultunk, de addig nem mehettünk el sehová sem, amíg a fiúk meg nem győződtek arról, hogy készen van a leckénk. Ha mentünk valahova, mindenki fizette a magáét. Szigorúan. Más volt persze, ha külön-külön is eljártunk egy kicsit randevúzni, mert az is volt.

Moziba minden héten eljártunk. Az volt, hogy a leckét meg kellene tanulni, de moziba el kell menni. Kedvenc mozink itt volt, a Szinbád van a helyén. Az Elit mozi, ahol az első sor 20 fillér volt. Amikor megépült a Lyold mozi a Hollán utcában, az premier mozi volt, ott 40 fillér volt az első sor, úgyhogy oda ritkábban jártunk. Szombat délutánonként pedig ötórai teára mentünk a Hungária szállodába. Szerettük a színházat is, a Nemzeti Színházba és a Vígszínházba jártunk. Gyerekkoromban a Lakner bácsi előadásaira mentünk. Fönn a kakasülőn ültünk, nem volt tériszonyom, láttam mindent nagyon jól. [Lakner Bácsi Gyermekszínháza néven Lakner Artúr (1893–1944) filmdramaturg, író, színházigazgató 1926-tól a Royal Apollóban, 1929-től az Új Színházban, 1932–1938 között a Vígszínházban, 1940 után a Goldmark teremben tartott gyermekelőadásokat. Gyermekoperettek, mesejátékok, gyermekkabarék kerültek színre. – A szerk.]

Amikor nem a fiúkkal voltunk, jártunk a csirkekorzóra. Ez a Szent István körút volt a Margit híd pesti hídfőjétől egészen a Nyugatiig. Ott járkáltunk, röhögtünk, vihorásztunk, kis csitrik módjára viselkedtünk.

Otthon az újságok közül a Népszava járt, és voltak könyvek is. De volt itt egy nagyon jó magán kölcsönkönyvtár a Visegrádi utcában, mindjárt a Katona József utca után egy pincehelyiségben. Jó mélyen le kellett menni. A Bogyó Lilié volt, aki vénkisasszony volt, azt hiszem, zsidó, és aki nagyon szerette az irodalmat, remekül összeszedte a könyveket. Fillérekért lehetett beiratkozni, s havonta fizettünk. Arra nem emlékszem, mennyit, de tudom, hogy sohasem tartoztunk, mert habzsoltuk a könyveket, mindent végigolvastunk, hiszen itt az összes menő könyvet meg tudtuk kapni. Amik akkor futottak, Cronin könyvei, az Árvíz Indiában [Louis Bromfield] stb. Az egyik kedvenc könyvem volt a Bacillusvadászok [Paul de Kruif]. Egyszer anyukám meg is szánt, mert már nem sok volt hátra egy könyvből, amit hajnalban kezdtem el, és akkor azt mondta: „Jó, fejezd be, igazolom a napodat.” Megértette, mert kevés szabadidejében ő is szeretett olvasni.

Nyaralni egyáltalán nem jártunk. Énnekem soha nem volt nyaralásom, mert nyáron mindig az üzletben dolgoztam.

Harmadik kereskedelmibe jártam, amikor 1944. március 19-én bevonultak a németek. Április 5-én kellett a sárga csillagot fölrakni. Még azzal is mentem iskolába, amikor aztán mondták, hogy vége a tanévnek. Egy darabig otthon maradtam, addigra a házunk is csillagos ház lett. Az egyik barátnőmmel megbeszéltük, hogy elmegyünk hadiüzembe dolgozni. Hátha az valamivel jobb lesz. Jelentkeztünk, föl is vettek a Hazai Fésűsfonóba. Ez a gyár a Soroksári út végén, egészen Pesterzsébet határánál volt, most is megvan. Német érdekeltségű volt, német katonai anyagokat szőttek. Én felvetőgépen dolgoztam.

Május végén kezdtünk járni. Egypár hétig reggel villamossal mentünk, és este hazajöttünk. Aztán be kellett mennünk az úgynevezett tisztviselőtelepre lakni, ami a gyár melletti utcában volt, mert veszélyes lett a közlekedés. szabályos háztartásokat vezettünk. Voltak családok, és volt, ahol a mama főzött többeknek. De üzemi konyha is volt. Rendesen el voltunk látva.

Egyszer éppen műszakban voltam, amikor azt mondták, hogy ne menjünk vissza a telepre, mindent, a mi holminkat is áthozzák a gyárba. A negyedik emeleten egy nagy termet rendeztek be nekünk emeletes ágyakkal. Akkor vitték el az erzsébeti zsidókat. Bennünket szabályosan átloptak a gyárba. akik nem voltak műszakban, azokat egy hátsó kapun vezették be. Ezután a gyár területén laktunk, és onnan jártunk siktába [műszakba]. Nyolc órát dolgoztunk, 24 filléres órabérem volt, tehát fizetést is kaptunk. Azt hittük, így minden rendben is lesz.

Anyukám és nagymamám itthon volt. Általában vasárnap ki tudtam jönni egy kis időre. Július 2-án bombázták le a házunkat, utána már én is a Csáky utca 5.-be mentem haza. Október 15-én, amikor a Hitler-proklamáció volt, éppen otthon voltam. Akkor volt az, hogy a következő héten be kell vonulni a KISOK-pályára. [A jelenlegi millenniumi földalatti vasút telephelye, ahonnan 1944 októberében – a Szálasi-puccsot követően –, 14–45 év közötti zsidó leányokat és asszonyokat hurcoltak el a ravensbrücki, lichtenwörthi és más koncentrációs táborokba.– A szerk.] És ekkor a gyár katonaságának vezetője, Dávid százados mindenkiért, aki nem volt bent a gyárban, szuronyos katonát küldött. Összeszedtek bennünket, és szuronyos fedezet mellett mentünk vissza. Ez tulajdonképpen mentés volt, akárhogyan vesszük is, mert hát szuronyos katonákkal szemben a nyilasok sem mertek semmit sem csinálni.

December elsejéig tudott bennünket menteni ez a Dávid százados. Nem kevés embert, legalább 150-en voltunk. Sajnos nem tudok semmit arról, hogy a századossal mi lett. Elmeséltem ezt a történetet a Hitközségben, elmeséltem Szita Szabolcsnak is [(1945) történész], aki azt mondta, hogy ő utánakeresett, és sehol nem hallott, nem látott semmit erről a névről. Pedig mondom, biztosan ő volt, mert az első alkalommal bemutatkozott nekünk, és figyelmeztetett minket, hogy aki engedély nélkül távozik, az fogdába kerül, mert háború van, ez hadiüzem, mi pedig hadimunkások vagyunk.

December elsején jöttek értünk a nyilasok. Nem tudtunk semmit. Azt igen, hogy a téglagyárba gyűjtöttek embereket, de hogy hová vitték őket, vagy hogy koncentrációs tábor van, nem tudtuk. Magunkra vettünk annyi ruhát, amennyit bírtunk, és mentünk gyalog a Teleki térig. A Teleki tér 10. előtt addig kellett várni, amíg valami újabb csapat csatlakozott hozzánk, és azokkal együtt kivittek minket a Józsefvárosi pályaudvarra. Ott már szépen álltak a vagonok. Betereltek bennünket, azt hiszem, 80 embert egy vagonba. Elindultam az én „dzsemborimra”.

Anyukám még október 23-án bevonult, majd az Újlaki Téglagyárból egy csoporttal egészen a határig gyalogolt. Hegyeshalomnál megismerte őt Raoul Wallenberg [(1912–1947?) svéd követségi titkár, aki embermentő akciók sorozatában vett részt. – A szerk.] egyik embere, aki pont azon a napon ment ki a határra. Az az ember másnap már nem volt ott. A fűszerüzletből ismerte. „Bauerné, maga itt van?” Rögtön kiállított neki egy menlevelet, és egy szekéren visszaküldte néhány emberrel együtt Pestre a gettóba. Ott volt a nagymama is. Így maradt meg. Ez az isteni gondviselés volt.

Amikor elvittek, szentül meg voltam róla győződve, hogy anyukám már nem él. Mert azt tudtam, hogy elvitték, és én itt vagyok, egyedül vagyok, tehát énnekem nem is érdemes hazajönni, minek? De azért mégis hajtott valami. Persze, 17 éves voltam.

Nyolc napig utaztunk bezárva. Csak amikor a határra értünk, nyitották ki az ajtót, leszállni nem lehetett, a vödröt ki lehetett önteni, és kaptunk friss vizet a másik vödörbe. Ennivaló az volt, amit vittünk magunkkal. Az ismerős lányok, akikkel együtt dolgoztam, mind elkeveredtek, kivéve egyet, akivel együtt maradtam, a Fenyő Violával. Szép hosszú hajunk volt. Szerencsére volt neki egy ollója, amivel levágta a hajamat, én is az övét egész rövidre, mert azt mondták, hogy akinek hosszú haja van, azt lekopaszítják. Sokat le is kopaszítottak. Útközben egy lány megőrült. Később láttuk a Zeltben [(német) sátor] valami oszlophoz kikötözve, állítólag agyon is lőtték.

December 8-án este érkeztünk meg, és akkor láttuk kiírva, hogy Ravensbrück. [Németország, ahol (eredetileg női) koncentrációs tábor volt. Ide 1939 májusától az 1945. április 29-ei szovjet felszabadításig több mint 132 ezer foglyot deportáltak. – A szerk.] Gőzünk nem volt róla, hogy hol van. Tudtuk, hogy nagyon messze, azt hiszem, sejtettük, hogy Berlin fölött valahol. Rögtön ki kellett szállni a vagonból, ahol nagyon sok halott maradt, és egész éjszaka kint várakoztunk a szabadban. Annyira fásult voltam, hogy csak úgy átléptem a halottakon.

Ruhát nem adtak, maradtunk abban, amiben jöttünk. Bevittek bennünket a nagy Zeltbe. Mert volt egy kis Zelt, és volt a nagy Zelt. A barakkokban nem volt már hely, ezért sátrakat húztak föl, ahol háromemeletes ágyak voltak. Egy-egy ágyon szintenként hárman feküdtünk, tehát összesen kilencen. Nagyon kevés deszka volt rajta, úgyhogy igen óvatosan lehetett mozogni, mert különben ráestünk a másik fejére. Azt sikerült valahogy kibuliznom, hogy én a legfelsőben voltam. Ott legalább volt egy kis levegő.

Hajnalban az Appellplatzra [(német) gyülekezőhely] kellett kimennünk. Kiabáltak a Frau Aufseherinek, a felügyelőnők: „Aufstehen, aufstehen!” [(német) felkelni!] Hajnali 5 órakor kiállítottak bennünket, 8 órakor jött a táborparancsnokság vagy ki, akkor volt a Zahlappell [(német) létszámellenőrzés], két perc alatt elintézték a leszámolást, de nekünk addig ott ötös sorokban mozdulatlanul kellett állnunk. Nagy szerencsénk volt, hogy nem menstruáltunk. Egyetlenegy lány kezdett el, az rettenetes volt, hiszen semmi higiénia nem volt. De utána senki többet. Brómot adtak, azt mondták, a kenyérben volt bróm.

A Zahlappell után munkára vittek bennünket. Ez mindig abszolút értelmetlen volt. A földmunka úgy volt, hogy adtak egy lapátot, és a földhalmot innen oda, onnan ide kellett hordani. Előfordult, hogy elvittek edényeket meg különböző összerabolt dolgokat válogatni és rendezni. Gyönyörű étkészletek voltak, még az ételmaradék is rájuk volt száradva.

A Reviertől, a kórháztól nagyon féltünk, oda nem szabad volt bekerülni. Egyszer bevittek mindünket, női alapon megvizsgáltak. Szűz voltam, úgyhogy azt aránylag jól megúsztam. Volt, akinél csináltak is valamit, közelebbit nem tudok róla.

Ettük a Wassersuppét, a Gemüsesuppét [(német) víz- és zöldségleves]. Amikor Gemüsesuppe volt, kiszedegettük azt a kis zöldséget, ami benne volt, összekutyultuk, rákenegettük a kenyérre, és akkor mégsem üres kenyeret ettünk. Az egyik lánynak sikerült egy kést megtartania, és azt a 12 deka kenyeret, amit egy napra kaptunk, 10 szeletre tudtuk vágni. Az volt nagyon jó, amikor kaptunk egy kis Zulagét [(német) pótlék], egy darabka Marmaladot [(német) lekvár] vagy egy darabka margarint, egyik nap ezt, másik nap azt. Én már ott megkaptam a hasmarsomat. Azzal úgy jártam, hogy egyszer éjszaka ki kellett mennem. Kerestem a latrinát, majdnem odaértem, amikor az egyik kedves Aufseherin meglátott. Mit keresek itt, mondom, zum WC, éjszaka nem lehet kimenni, és rám ütött. Na, akkor ijedtemben bekakáltam. Ez volt az egyetlen, amikor még verést is kaptam. Így telt minden nap.

Amikor már több transzport elment, bekerültünk a kis Zeltbe. Az nagy szó volt. Az ottani gyönyörűséges háromemeletes ágyakon több deszka volt, nem kellett annyira félni, hogy leszakad. Ennyivel jobb volt, és az, hogy kisebb volt.

Ravensbrück tulajdonképpen női tábor volt, ahol főleg franciák és lengyelek voltak. Nagy irigységgel néztük azokat a barakkokat, ahol a franciák voltak, mert azok szépen be voltak rendezve. Muskátli az ablakban! Ők már hosszú idő óta laktak ott. Közülük került ki a legtöbb felügyelő, Stubenälteste, Blockälteste [(német) szoba- és barakkparancsnok], és volt egy lengyel nő is, a lengyel grófnő, aki mást nem tudott magyarul, mint: „Hátra! Hátra!” Annyit tudtunk róla, hogy grófnő és prosti.

Mert különböző jelek, különböző színek voltak a ruháinkra felvarrva. Nekünk piros háromszög volt, amin rajta volt a számunk, és mint zsidóknak, egy sárga csík. A közönséges bűnözőknek világos zöld, a prostiknak rózsaszín volt a csík színe. Úgyhogy meg voltunk különböztetve, hogy ki miért van ott. Németek is voltak, különböző bűncselekményekért.

Aránylag hamar elkerültem Ravensbrückből. A munkaképeseket válogatták, és január 19-én, pont a születésnapomon választottak ki engem is egy transzportba. Nem sokan, talán ötvenen-hatvanan kerültünk abba a csoportba. Kaptunk egy „gyönyörű” ballonkabátot, a hátán nagy fekete szorzójellel, és kaptam valamilyen „szép” kis ruhát is. Annyira kopott volt a ruha, hogy nem is látszott rajta, hogy rabcsíkos. Egészen világoskék volt.

Három napig utaztunk vagonban Freiburgba [Németország], ahol egy repülőgép-alkatrész gyár volt, és bennünket oda delegáltak, előkelő szóval mondva. De ott egy rendes barakkban volt a szállásunk, már csak kétemeletes ágyak voltak, és „normális” berendezés, mert volt egy asztal, valami pad és ülőkék. És ami csodálatos, volt egy kályha. Az egyik Aufseherin megtanított bennünket befűteni. A fehér kesztyűs kezével rakta be a fadarabokat a kályhába, és mondta, hogy milyen ügyetlenek vagyunk. Fiatal lányok voltunk, akik soha nem csináltak ilyesmit.

A gyár a város másik végében volt. Reggelente kaptunk egy fekete kávét, és még hajnalban, sötétben végigvonultunk a városon. Úgyhogy ne mondják a németek azt, hogy nem tudtak róla, hogy velünk…! – mentünk mind ezekben a ballonkabátokban, amiken az a nagy kereszt volt –, lehet, hogy ők azt hitték, hogy ezek valami közönséges foglyok vagy mi, legyünk jóhiszeműek.

Freiburgban aránylag jó munkánk volt, nekem ülőmunkám. Valamilyen kis alkatrészeket kellett összedrótozni vagy fehér szalaggal összepakolni. Nem tudom, mire volt jó. Jellemző volt ránk, fiatal lányokra, hogy mindenki próbált szerezni egy kis darab szalagot, és fölkötötte vele a haját. Mi ott is kislányok akartuk maradni. Volt közöttünk egy lány, Schmuckstücknek [(német) ékszerdarab] hívta az Aufseherin – ő biztos nem maradt meg –, aki nem volt hajlandó fölkelni, nem volt hajlandó mosakodni, felöltözni, teljes apátiába merült. Márpedig ott a túlélésnek egyetlenegy módja volt az, hogy mosakodni, amennyire lehet, tisztán tartani magunkat. Vályúk voltak erre, és én mindig úgy igyekeztem, hogy az elsők között legyek.

Munka közben persze engedélyt kellett kérni az Aufseherintől, hogy fölállhassak és kimehessek a WC-re. Egy ilyen alkalommal láttam az ablakból – vasútállomás volt ott, vagy vasúti sínek –, hogy tehervonatok mennek nyitott vagonokkal, és azokban emberek fekszenek. Akkor ürítették Auschwitzot.

Aránylag rövid ideig tartott Freiburgban az életünk, mert jöttek az oroszok. Akkor elindítottak minket kelet felé. Több napig gyalogoltunk, míg eljutottunk Svodauba. Ez Eger [Csehszlovákia, ma Cheb] közelében lévő tábor volt. Ott nem dolgoztunk, jóformán semmit nem csináltunk, karanténban voltunk egy nagy terembe zárva. Szalma volt leszórva, azon feküdtünk. Itt is napi 12 deka kenyér volt az adagunk, és időnként a vízleves, a Wassersuppe. Már egész csinosak voltunk.

Aztán innen is továbbvittek bennünket Karlsbadba [Csehszlovákia, ma Karlovy Vary]. Odáig is gyalogoltunk több napot. Ott vagonokba zsúfoltak, 120-an voltunk egy-egy vagonban három napig. De a vagon nem indult el. Nem tudott, mert az oroszok már mindenhol jöttek. Kiraktak minket, és elkezdtünk gyalogolni az országúton. Egy nagy csapat. Nem csak mi, hanem hozzánk pakoltak még Flossenburgból [Németország], meg még ki tudja, honnan.

Németek hajtottak az országúton, és a kedves jó volksbundisták, akik mellettünk menve ékes magyar nyelven mondogatták: „Ne izguljatok, mert úgysem fogtok hazajutni. Mielőtt vége lenne a háborúnak, titeket úgyis agyonlövünk.” Magyarok német volksbundista ruhában! A gyalogtúra három hétig tartott Karlsbad környékén. Biztos, hogy a környéken jártunk körbe-körbe, mert miután már egy hete gyalogoltunk legalább napi 15 kilométert Karlsbadból indulva, megláttam egy táblát, hogy Karlsbad 10 km. Tehát nem tudtak hová vinni minket.

Volt, amikor nagy szerencsénk volt, és istállóban aludtunk, az legalább meleg volt. De volt, hogy futballpályán, aztán volt, hogy valamelyik gazdaságban főztek nekünk héjában krumplit, akkor azt ettük. Egyszer pedig valami paprikás krumplihoz hasonlót csináltak, és az akkor valami csodálatos volt, mert az egyik német, aki osztotta a kaját – a derekunkon volt a bögre, ugye –, megkérdezte: „Wie alt bist du?” [Hány éves vagy?], és én mondtam: „Siebzehn.” [Tizenhét.] Erre még egy kanállal belemerített. Lehet, hogy neki is egy ilyen korú lánya volt. Pedig akkor már achtzehn [tizennyolc] voltam!

Ez a menekülés eltartott május 8-áig. Aznap reggel is ugyanúgy elindítottak bennünket. Egyszer csak észrevettünk valami érdekeset: a kísérő személyzet eltűnt. Felszívódtak. Holt biztos, hogy mindeniknek volt civil ruhája, és azt mindenik valahol fölvette, majd eltűnt. Úgy szabadultunk fel, hogy az országúton elveszítettük az őreinket. Mi volt az első dolgunk? Átvágtunk a földeken, hogy minél messzebb kerüljünk attól a helytől, hátha mégis visszajönnek. Ki hitte, mi van? A másik földdarab szélén leültünk. És mit csinál egy fölszabadult Heftling [(német) a koncentrációs táborban nyilvántartásba vett, regisztrált fogoly]? Tetvészkedik. Szabályosan elkezdtünk a ruhánkban tetveket keresni, mert az volt bőven. S aztán egy szénakazalba aludtunk igen jót.

Reggel láttuk, hogy egy falu van a közelben, bemerészkedünk. Találtunk egy kutat, bemerítettük a vödröt, elkezdtünk mosakodni. Közben odajött egypár ember, hogy mi honnan vagyunk. Mondtuk, hogy foglyok vagyunk, akik most azt hiszik, hogy szabadokká lettek. Erre azt mondták, hogy ne maradjunk itt, menjünk át a másik faluba, az nincs messze, mert az már Csehország, ez Szudéta-vidék, itt nem lenne nekünk jó dolgunk. Mi szépen odagyalogoltunk, és tényleg átkerültünk Csehországba. Ott valami fantasztikus módon fogadtak bennünket. Azzal kezdték, hogy az összes ruhánkat elvették, rögtön tűzre rakták, és kaptunk másikat. Én egy gyönyörű szép rózsaszín burett[selyem] ruhát kaptam, abban jöttem haza.

Tényleg vége a háborúnak? Mondták, igen, vége a háborúnak. Nem akartuk elhinni. Egy iskolában alhattunk, ahol már az ágyak be voltak állítva. Enni is kaptunk, de nem nagyon sokat, hál’ istennek. Először adtak kávét meg kenyeret, kává, kleba, utána mindig többet és többet hoztak, és mi ettünk, és ettük, és ettünk. A csehek pedig ott álltak körülöttünk. Azt hiszem, két napig voltunk itt, az alatt állandóan etettek és ajnároztak bennünket, nem tudom elmondani, hogy milyen rendesek voltak. Mondták, hogy 60 km-re van a vonat, ami jár.

Mi az nekünk 60 km ennyi minden után? Elindultunk, hárman vagy négyen kapaszkodtunk össze, úgy mentünk együtt az országúton. Jött velünk szembe egy nő, honnan vagyunk? Mondtuk, hogy Heftlingek vagyunk. Hát neki semmije nincs, csak egypár almája, fogadjuk el. Amerre mentünk, minden faluban valaki valamit adott. Eljutottunk Laum nevű határvárosig, onnan ment vonat Brünnbe [Csehszlovákia, ma Brno]. Hosszú, nagy vonat volt tehervagonokkal, tele foglyokkal, arra szálltunk föl. Ahogy áthaladt a falvakon, a nép kijött, és mindenki adott nekünk enni. Brünnben szállodában szállásoltak el bennünket, a Hotel Zatopekbe, közel a vasútállomáshoz. Ágyban aludunk! Lementünk enni, és a pincér csészéből öntötte ki a levest! Hát az valami csodálatos volt!

Néhány napja voltunk itt, amikor azt mondtunk, mi hazamegyünk. „Miért mentek haza? Budapest nincs, teljesen lebombázták, oda nem érdemes menni, ne is menjetek.” „De mi megyünk.” Egy vidéki testvérpárral – nevükre nem emlékszem – elindultam, ahol volt vonat, ott vonattal, ahol nem volt, ott gyalog vagy szekéren, lőszerszállító vonaton. Elértük a szlovák határt. Akkor Csehszlovákia egyben volt, de azért Szlovákiában mégis minden más volt. Ott már senki nem várt bennünket. Nem fogom elfelejteni. Elfogyott minden ennivalónk, de volt még egy pokrócunk, azt adtuk oda, hogy kapjunk egy darab kenyeret és szalonnát. Egy jó szalonnás kenyeret, a kenyér is szalonnás volt. Az Ipoly felrobbantott hídján jöttünk át Magyarországra, a roncsokon másztunk át, úgy kerültünk Magyarországra. Elindultunk Vác felé. Az utakon már jártak a batyuzók, azoknál lehetett volna cserélni, de nem volt mit. Egy bácsi felvett a szekerére, és a váci vasútállomásnál tett le minket, ahol már ott volt a Joint kiküldöttje. Elhelyezett egy iskolában, ahol rendes ágyak voltak.

Egy éjszakát töltöttünk ott. Feküdtem az ágyban, odajött hozzám egy fiatal srác, s azt kérdezte: „Van neked valami pénzed?” – „Nekem? Minek? ” – „Akkor itt van 10 pengő. Hogy most már legyen gondod, mert eddig nem volt gondod a pénzzel.” Jó, hát már volt 10 pengőm, nagyszerű. Reggel indult a vonat Pestre, fölszálltunk, majd beérkeztünk a Nyugati pályaudvarra, ahol ápolónők fogadtak, fertőtlenítő állomás, rögtön elvitték a gyönyörű rózsaszín ruhámat, kifertőtlenítették. Útközben egyszer egy patakban kimostam, már minden volt az, csak nem rózsaszín. Amikor visszakaptuk a ruhánkat, egyenesen bementünk a Bethlen térre a Jointba.

Addig semmi papírom nem volt. Felszabadulásunkkor az országúton nyilván semmi rendezett dolog nem volt. Akár ki is találhattam volna ezt az egészet, mert bizonyítékom nincsen. A Jointban kiállítottak valami igazolást, hogy most érkeztem meg, de azt ők eltették szépen. Állítólag kaptam 100 pengőt is, nem tudok róla, lehet, hogy az kézen-közön valahol elment. Úgy nézett ki, mintha kaptam volna. Mindegy, nekem megvolt a 10 pengőm. Villamosjegyet nem vettem, pedig villamossal mentünk már ki valahogy a Nyugatiból a Keletihez, a Bethlen térre.

Ott ténferegtem, amikor is délután találkoztam egy ismerőssel. „Zsuzsi! Te itt vagy? Hát anyád vár!” – „Anyu? Anyu él, megvan?” – „Persze, ő küldött, hogy érdeklődjem a fia után meg utánad is. Na – mondja –, induljunk haza!” Útközben vettem egy csokor virágot, török szegfű volt. Azóta is minden évben megveszem, május 24-én az egy csokor török szegfűmet. Az ismerős bement anyuhoz, és ahogy később elmesélte, ez történt. Anyu kérdezte: „Mi van?” – „Van egy hírem a Zsuzsiról.” – „És mi az?” – „Jó hírem van.” – „Mi?” – „Nagyon jó hírem van.” – „Mi az a nagyon jó hír?” – „Majd ő elmondja.” – És akkor anyu kirohant az üzletből, az utcán keresztbe rohant elém, így találkoztunk. Ez nagy találkozás volt. A gyerekeimnek mindig ezt meséltem csak el, csak a hazaérkezést.

A ravensbrücki tábor felszabadulásának 60. évfordulóján rendezett megemlékezésen két évvel ezelőtt én is ott voltam. A NÜB, a Nácizmus Üldözötteinek Bizottsága hirdette meg, 18-an mentünk el. Mindig azt mondtam, hogy nem akarok sehova sem elmenni, de akkor valahogy rám jött, hogy na, ezt azért most még egyszer megnézem. Semmit nem találtam. Azt a tábort teljesen felszámolták. Mi a Zeltet kerestük, az sehol nincs már.

Ez orosz megszállás alatt lévő terület volt, és ők a nyomokat is eltüntették. De a németek másként állnak hozzá. Emlékoszlopok, szobrok, emléktáblák vannak mindenütt, és bennünket rettentő nagy kedvességgel fogadtak. Kiderült, hogy ott is van egy ilyen nácizmus bizottság, amiben főleg franciák vannak.

Előadások és műsorok voltak, és elvittek minket a kísérőfiúk saját kocsijukon az uckermarki táborba, ami nem volt messze. Ez egy szabályos Vernichstunglager, azaz megsemmisítő tábor volt [a gázkamrákkal felszerelt láger korabeli elnevezése – A szerk.], amiről annakidején mi nem is tudtunk.

A kiutazás igen jól sikerült. Én azt láttam, hogy a németek mostani generációja már nem tagadja el ezt, hanem bűnbánatot érez. Például: mesélték, hogy az egyik társaság elment egy közeli városba autóbusszal, bementek egy eszpresszóba, kértek valami különleges feketét. A tulajdonos kiszolgálta őket, és megkérdezte, hogy honnan vannak. Mondták, hogy most Ravensbrückből jöttek, ott van a 60 éves találkozó. És ő elkezdte: „Hogy hát ez borzasztó! Maguk ezt túlélték! Hogy ez történhetett, hogy ilyesmi lehetett! Szó sem lehet róla, hogy maguk most fizetnek, dehogy, ez a legkevesebb, amit adhatok!” A gyerekekkel az iskolában minden túlélőnek csináltattak emlékbe egy kis vázát. Tehát ők úgy élnek, hogy tudják, hogy ez volt, nem úgy, mint itt, hogy tagadják.

Nagyon szép szállodai szobában voltunk, teljes ellátással, még zsebpénzt is kaptunk. A repülőjegy árát visszaadták. Mindenben keresték a kedvünket, hogy jó emlékünk is legyen.

Tehát 1945. május 24-én érkeztem haza, egy elég komoly szemgyulladással. A fényre annyira érzékenyen reagáltam, hogy a sötét szemüveg elé még egy zsebkendőt is tettem. Persze anyukám mindennel ellátott, amit csak el lehet képzelni. Nyitva volt már a fűszerüzlet, voltak vidéki kapcsolatai, amikor még sokan éheztek, nálunk volt kaja, úgyhogy ezzel nem volt baj. Akkor keresett meg a tanárnőm, hogy fejezzem be az iskolát, érettségizzem le a többiekkel, és ekkor ismerkedtem meg leendő férjemmel.

Az egyik barátnőm a VIII. kerületi szocdem körzetben dolgozott, ahol Imre volt az ifjúsági titkár. Ő hozott össze vele valamilyen rendezvényen. Én ugyan mondtam, hogy nem akarok férjhez menni, amire ez az Éva azt válaszolta, hogy az nagyon jó, mert az Imre sem akar nősülni. Most szakított a menyasszonyával, legfeljebb csak akar valakit, akivel egy kicsit együtt jár. Így is lett.

Készültem a vizsgákra, de a szemgyulladásom erősen akadályozott. Úgy tanultam, hogy Imre felolvasta a tételeket, és azt magamban szépen feldolgoztam. Először levizsgáztam a IV. osztályos tananyagból. Nem volt nehéz, mert végeredményben az ostrom után kezdődött a tanítás, az az öt hónap, ami nekem a „dzsembori” ideje volt, az volt a tanév. Ekkor nem voltam kitűnő tanuló. Ennek nagyon örült az egyik barátnőm, mert az osztályvizsga alapján abba a terembe kerültem az érettségi írásbelin, ahol a közepesen végzettek voltak, és máig azt mondja – most is összejárunk –, hogy azért tudott leérettségizni matematikából, mert én is ott ültem. Az biztos, hogy a tanárok nagyon segítettek nekünk.

Eztán mint egy szabadon röpködő kis madárka, jártam a fiúval, aki augusztus 11-én, amikor éppen a lakást festettük, és amikor van Zsuzsánna-nap, egy hatalmas virágcsokorral állított be, hogy ő most megkéri a kezemet. Mondom, ez pont jó, festés van, azt sem tudom, hogy mit hova tegyek, mi legyen. De ő úgy érzi, hogy velem akarja leélni az életét. Na mondom, akkor várjunk azért még egy kicsit ezzel. Továbbra is intenzíven jártunk együtt. Minden nap eljött hozzánk. Anyukám Kolbász Jancsinak hívta, mert vidékről nagyon finom kolbászt tudtunk kapni, és többször kérdezte: „Azért jár ide az Imre, hogy egyen abból a kolbászból?”

Az nem tetszett neki, hogy ennyire fiatalon ilyen komolyan van egy fiú. Kiderült, hogy a fiú szüleinek sem nagyon tetszett, hogy Imre ennyire komolyan gondolja a dolgot. De hát lassan azért csak összejöttek a szülők is, és aztán év vége felé rendesen megkérte a kezemet. Még 19 éves sem voltam, amikor gyűrűs menyasszony lettem. A rákövetkező félévben megvolt az esküvőnk, 1946. június 30-án itt, a Csáky utcai templomban.

Anyukám addig soha nem akart újra férjhez menni, de férjhezmenetelem után nagyon egyedül érezte magát. Akkor mutatták be neki Vadász Albertet, aki talán egy-két évvel volt idősebb nála, családja Auschwitzban maradt, kivéve a fia, Lóránt, akivel aztán egész jól összebarátkoztunk. 1947-ben összeházasodtak, 1948-ban anyukám bezárta a fűszerüzletet, s mivel a férje asztalos volt, egy asztalosműhelyt nyitottak itt az 5.-ben, ahol most a fodrászüzlet van. A vasárnapokat mindig együtt töltöttük, már az én anyukámmal, az új papával és a férjemnek a szüleivel. Aztán kiderült, hogy nem az az ember, akit édesanyám gondolt magának öregkorára. 1953 körül szabályosan el is váltak, anyukám végleg egyedül maradt.

A férjem szüleinek volt egy nagyon szép háromszobás, komfortos lakásuk a VIII. kerületben, a Szigetvári utcában. Eredetileg a Vichy utcában laktak, de onnan kibombázták őket, és egy Nyugatra távozott nagy korifeus lakását kapták meg. Volt benne valami bútor, de az Elhagyott Javak Kormánybiztosságán keresztül lehetett igényelni is. A hálószobát azt kapták, az ebédlőben pedig azok a bútorok voltak, amik ott maradtak. A lakástól három percre, a Baross utcában volt az apósom üveges és képkeretező műhelye.

Ide várták haza a lányukat, Juditot, aki nem jött vissza. Bergen-Belsenben még felszabadult [1945. április 15.], Svédországba vitték felerősíteni, ott halt meg 18 évesen. Én kerültem oda, én lettem a lányuk. Ott éltem abban a házban, abban a lakásban egészen addig, ameddig meg nem halt az apósom, anyósom meg a férjem. Itt születtek a fiaim, és itt nőttek fel. 1972-ben lebontották a házat, az utcát is megszüntették. Az a rész teljesen átváltozott, rehabilitációs terület lett.

A férjem családjáról annyit tudok, hogy annakidején, amikor a zsidótörvény miatt szigorították a választójogi törvényt, az apósom öccse, aki községi orvos volt, járt utána, és fedezte föl, hogy a nagyapja meg a dédapja Balassagyarmaton élt, előbb mint hentes, aztán mint cipész. Az ő nevük még Herzeg volt, Herzeg Dávid és fia, Herzeg Gábor, vagy fordítva. Z-vel, Herzegnek voltak írva.

Mi Herzogok voltunk már, de amikor a személyi igazolványok készültek, tévedésből az ügyintéző rosszul állította ki, és így lett cz-vel Herczog. Azóta Herczog vagyok, a fiaim is. Egy időben gondolkodtunk, hogy magyarosítunk, visszamegyünk a Herzegre, aztán valahogy elmaradt. Nem volt érdekes, nem jelentett semmit sem.

Apósom Hercog Mór volt eredetileg, majd Herzognak írta a nevét. A gyerekei is már így írták. Később ő kérte a Belügyminisztériumban a névváltoztatást Miklósra. A Mór nem tetszett neki. És lett is belőle Herzog Miklós.

Apósomnak csak a lánytestvére élte túl Pesten a háborút, öccse és a többi vidéken élő rokon mind elpusztult. A férjem sokszor emlegette orvos nagybátyját, aki agglegény volt, és Földeákon [Csanád vm.] élt. Testvéreinek összes gyereke a nyarakat nála töltötte, ami nekik maga volt a paradicsom.

Apósom az üzletét 1927-ben alapította. Anyósom bent volt az üzletben, a kereskedelmi részt csinálta, apósom az üvegezést, képkeretezést – csak egymagukban dolgoztak. Az üzletből lépcsőn lehetett lemenni az alagsorban lévő műhelybe.

Férjem 1923-ban született, kereskedelmiben érettségizett. Később kitanulta az üveges szakmát, a háború után mesterlevelet szerzett. Jászberényben [Jász-Nagykun-Szolnok vm.] volt munkaszolgálatos. Nagyon ügyesen ki tudta használni, hogy ő üveges, sikerült a szakmában dolgoznia, gyakran jöhetett Pestre anyagért. Azt viszont már nem tudta megúszni, hogy ne vigyék el Balfra [Sopron vm.]. De onnan megszökött. Szerzett magának valakitől egy volksbundista jelvényt, nyilván jó pénzért, valószínűleg cigarettáért, mert ő nem dohányzott. Kitűzte a jelvényt, és elindult a sáncokon végig, ahol a férfiak dolgoztak, és mondta: „Te is meg fogsz dögleni, te is meg fogsz dögleni!”, mint egy valódi Volksbundista. Így jutott el a falu végéig. Azt mesélte, hogy egészen Esztergomig [Esztergom vm.] nagyon jól tudott menni, föl tudott kéredzkedni szekérre is. Esztergomban pedig vonat járt a Császár fürdőig. Na, erre hogyan tudjon fölkerülni? Gondolta, idáig jutott, itt most már vége van. De sikerült neki – ő sem gondolta volna, hiszen ott már a nyilasok voltak, mindenkit igazoltattak.

Egy hadapród őrmester állt a vonatnál, odament hozzá, és elmondta neki, hogy ez és ez vagyok, munkaszolgálatos, megszöktem Balfról, és próbáljon segíteni nekem, hogy hazaérjek, vagy csináljon valamit, lőjön főbe, mindegy. Erre a hadapród őrmester elkezdett vele a vonat mellett karon fogva sétálni és beszélgetni: „És hogy van a családod? És mit csinál a kedves húgod? És az édesanyádnak kezét csókolom…” – egészen addig, amíg a vonat már majdnem elindult. S akkor: „Na jól van, akkor szaladjál, le ne maradj a vonatról!” Soha nem tudta meg a férjem, hogy ki volt ez a hadapród őrmester, hogy mi lett vele, mi van vele, de hogy az ő életét megmentette, az biztos.

Az éjszaka a vonaton rettenetes volt. Elbújt az ülések alá, a vonatot állandóan tolatták, hol erre, hol arra, fogalma nem volt róla, mi van, hol van. Hajnalban, amikor már világosodott, látta, hogy ott van a Császár fürdő. Valahogy nagy-nagy szerencsével átjutott a pesti oldalra, be tudott menni a Vadász utcába, ahol a Weiss Gyulának volt az üvegraktára – ez volt a Vadász utcai Üvegház –, és ahol svájci védleveleket állítottak ki. Vadász utca 29. Mint üveges nagyon jól ismerte a Weiss Gyulát, aki elintézte, hogy kapott egy védettséget, és valahol a Duna-parton, az Újlipótvárosban, az egyik lakásba bekerült. A rákövetkező nap zárult be Budapest, és kezdődött az ostrom.

Akkor az élet ilyen szerencséken, ilyen véletleneken múlt. A védett házhoz nem nyúltak. Ő tudta, hogy a szülei a gettóban vannak, csak azt nem tudta, hogy hol. Amikor fölszabadult Budapest, a gettóban házról házra járva kereste és meg is találta őket a Király utca 38.-ban. Összetalálkoztak, és kezdték újra az életet. Amikor Imrével megismerkedtem, akkor a műhely már nyitva volt, és a főváros helyreállítási munkáiban dolgoztak mint önálló vállalkozók.

Házasságkötésünk után mind ott dolgoztunk az apósomnál. A férjem előtte a szocdem pártban az ifjúsági csoport helyreállítási csoportjának a vezetője volt. Ott már megtanulta azt, hogy hogyan kell emberekkel dolgozni, hogyan kell bánni velük, hogyan kell dolgoztatni őket. Itt is volt egy-két nagyon jó emberünk. Azzal együtt az 1950-es évek elején szépen tönkrementünk. El is árvereztek sok mindent, a lakásban szabályos árverés volt. A vállalkozási rész megszűnt. Mi hivatalba mentünk dolgozni, az apósom meg az anyósom az üzletbe mentek vissza, és ott vállaltak annyit, amennyit helyben meg tudtak csinálni.

A férjem már a háború előtt is a szocdem ificsoportjában dolgozott. Nagyon jól ismerte a Kéthly Annát. [(18891976) szociáldemokrata politikus. 1922-től 1948-ig a pártvezetőség tagja, országgyűlési képviselő. 1948 márciusában kizárták az SZDP-ből, mert ellenezte a két munkáspárt egyesülését. 1949-ben a koncepciós perek során letartóztatták, 1954-ben amnesztiával szabadult. 1956 októberében részt vett az SZDP újjászervezésében, november 3-4-én államminiszter a második Nagy Imre-kormányban. 1956 novemberében a II. Internacionálé bécsi értekezletére utazott ki. Nem tért vissza, Belgiumban telepedett le.] Annyira, hogy amikor kórházban volt, még meg is látogattuk, én is vele voltam. A két párt egyesülésekor [1948] Imre nem felelt meg, nem vette át az MDP. Akit a pártba nem vettek föl az összevonáskor, az már eleve nem volt jó káder. Így mi sem. Ez bizony elég sokszor akadálya volt annak, hogy az ember előbbre kerüljön. Én is mint munkaügyi előadó dolgoztam, de munkaügyi vezető soha nem lehettem. Mert kispolgári beállítottságú voltam! Ezt csak akkor tudtam meg, amikor 1956-ban a személyzeti osztály anyagát előszedték, és megkaptam. Ez volt benne: „Kispolgári beállítottságú, nagyon a család érdekében dolgozik.”

Hát ez bűn volt akkor. Pedig én dolgoztam nekik is, igyekeztem, még vasárnapi népnevelésekre is jártam. Itt Pesten, de nem akármilyen helyen. Akkor a Csatorna és Földkotró Vállalatnál dolgoztam, ez a Bajcsy-Zsilinszky úton volt, ugyanabban az épületben dolgozott Imre is egy másik vállalatnál. Gyönyörű szép lakások voltak arra, és úgy elképzelem, milyen érzéssel fogadtak és hova mindenhova kívántak bennünket, amikor vasárnap reggel ketten megjelentünk, és elkezdtük magyarázni, hogy milyen jó lesz itt, milyen szép lesz minden. Én nem tudtam, hogy a párom [munkatársam], akivel együtt mentem, mit fog rólam jelenteni, ő nem tudta, hogy én mit fogok róla jelenteni, úgyhogy mind a ketten csak úgy beszéltünk, és az a szerencsétlen tag, akit mi meg akartunk népnevelni, az meg csak bólogatott, hogy igen, igen. Ennek alapján mi megírhattuk a hangulatjelentést, hogy nagyon jól sikerült a vasárnap délelőttünk. Ez többször volt.

Egyszer még vidékre is elmentünk egy teherautóval Bag községbe [Pest-Pilis-Solt-Kiskun vm.]. Akkor voltak először a tanácsválasztások. Benne voltam a tánccsoportban, a színjátszó csoportban, elmentünk oda valamilyen színdarabbal. Megállapítottam, hogy a bagi népviselet gyönyörű szép. Ahogy a lányok jöttek ki a templomból kart karba öltve, nem is tudom, hány agyon guvrírozott szoknya volt rajtuk. A vezetőnk a megafonba bejelentette, hogy délután a községházán ünnepség lesz, és hogy mi milyen jó előadást fogunk tartani. Meg is tartottuk, persze csak a gyerekek voltak ott. Azóta is nevetek azon, ahogy a rendező kiállt, és azt mondta: „Gyerekek, ugye fogtok figyelni?” És a gyerekek, mint az óvodában: „Igen.” – „És nem fogtok zajongani, hanem szépen ültök a helyeteken?” Mintha egy bábjáték lett volna. – „Igen.” És mi eljátszottuk a darabot a tanácsválasztás gyönyörűségeiről. Ilyen komoly szocialista brigádmunkát végeztem én annakidején.

A pártba sem akkor, sem később, 1956 után sem lépett be egyikünk sem. A férjem 1956-ban [lásd 1956-os forradalom] rögtön jelentkezett az újjáalakult a Szociáldemokrata Pártba. Azonnal aktívan elkezdett dolgozni, de nagy szerencsénk volt. Valahogy rosszul lépett, és egy igen komoly ínszalagszakadást kapott. Nem tudott továbbmenni. Én ezt isteni jelnek éreztem. Ha ez nem történik meg, hogy mozdulni sem tud otthonról, nagyon nagy baj lett volna vele 1956 után. Az biztos, hogy a retorzió nem maradt volna el. Ezt úszta meg.

Első fiunk 1949. március 22-én született. Úgy gondoltuk, rögtön nem kell gyerek, előbb érjünk össze. Addig védekeztünk, ahogy lehetett. Volt egy bábaasszony, aki minden hónapban föltett nekem pesszáriumot. Amikor a házasságunk a harmadik évébe érkezett, elérkezettnek láttuk az időt. Hét hónapig otthon voltam a babával, de akkortájt az üzlet kezdett tönkremenni, így elmentem dolgozni. Nem tettem bölcsibe, őrá napközben az anyósom vigyázott, és időnként volt egy segítségünk is a házból.

A férjem a Cső- és Szerelvényértékesítő Vállalatnál helyezkedett el, azelőtt az Ulrich-cég, az egy komoly szerelvénybolt volt. Én pedig a Faért Vállalatnál voltam mint teljesítményelszámoló. Ő is hasonló munkakörben volt. Utána fölajánlottak neki egy másik állást a Tűzhely és Vasöntő Gyárban kalkulátornak, de csak úgy engedték el, ha hoz maga helyett valakit. Úgyhogy engem átvitt volna, de végül ugyanabban az épületben egy emelettel följebb lett helyem a Földkotró Vállalatnál. Norma- meg prémiummegállapító lettem munkaügyi vonalon.

Nagyon jó nevelőim voltak ott a főnökeim. Meg kell a nevüket említenem: Rostoványi György volt a normacsoport és Bíró Kálmán a prémiumrészleg vezetője. Mind a ketten igen rossz káderek voltak, de! – csodásan dolgoztak. Nem tudták őket nélkülözni. De a Bíró Kálmánt lassan mégis el kellett küldeni, mert kitelepítették, akkor átvettem a helyét. Ez a Bíró Kálmán egy ragyogó intelligenciájú ember volt, eredetileg földbirtokos, tehát rettenetesen nagy bűnt követett el, mert volt 200 hold földje és egy mintagazdasága. Hollandiában és Belgiumban tanult, és itthon a tanultakat alkalmazta. Persze aztán minden teljesen tönkrement. Nekem is lett egy rettentő nagy bűnöm, mert bizony elmentem meglátogatni.

Mint normaellenőr vidékre kellett mennem – a Nagykunságban volt, az Alföldön, nem jut eszembe a hely neve – ellenőrizni, és mert útközben esett, leszálltam az autóbuszról, és elmentem Bíró Kálmánhoz, persze hatalmas csomaggal megrakodva. Nem én szedtem össze, hozták hozzám a dolgokat mind a kollegák, mert mindenki nagyon szerette a Kálmánt. A személyzetisünk, akit Csirke Mihálynak hívtak, és akit mi Pipi Misinek kereszteltünk el, természetesen megtudta a dolgot, és azt mondta, hogy én gyűjtöttem a részére. Ezzel volt egy kis kellemetlenség, mert megmondta: „Maga egy entiligent nő, magának ezt tugynia kő, hogy ilyet nem lehet csinyálni.” Na, ez volt a személyzetisünk. De azért megúsztam a dolgot, utána nem volt semmi probléma egészen addig, amíg nem jött a második gyerek. Akkor volt a racizás, a racionalizálás, és engem kiraciztak. [1953-ban nagy létszámcsökkentést hajtottak végre a közszférában, amit a munka ésszerűsítésével (racionalizálás) indokoltak. – A szerk.] Mégis sikerült valamit csinálniuk, pedig addigra már nem is ő volt a személyzetis.

A kicsi fiam 1954-ben február 17-én született, két nappal a férjem születésnapja előtt. Úgyhogy neki egyből egy születésnapi ajándék volt. Én az utolsó percig dolgoztam, ezért szülés után 12 hétig otthon maradhattam. Abban az időben a szülési szabadság 12 hét volt, szülés előtt már ki lehetett venni 6 hetet.

Őt bölcsődébe vittük, a nagy óvodába járt. Az első időben délben elszaladtam megszoptatni a gyereket. Erre kaptam ¾ órát. Azalatt éppen mindent el tudtam intézni, de ez egy olyan rohanás volt, hogy rövid idő alatt elapadt a tejem, és már csak annyi volt, hogy reggel meg este tudtam szoptatni, és hozzá kellett táplálni. Amikor a gyerek hat hónapos lett, már ki lehetett racizni, és akkor egy darabig otthon maradtam a gyerekkel.

A kicsi nem szeretett óvodába járni. Mindig volt valami probléma. Amikor a többi evett, őrá rájött a hányás. Az orvos azt mondta, nincs a gyereknek semmi baja, csak nem bírja a közösséget. Na, Uram, Istenem! Mi lesz, ha nem bírja a közösséget, mi lesz majd az iskolával? Átvittük egy másik óvodába, és ott jól bírta magát. Tehát az óvó nénit nem bírta.

Később az iskolában is mindig minden ellen lázadt. Még osztályt is ismételt, mert nagyon nem ment neki a tanulás. Az első osztályban kijelentette, hogy ő nem akar tanulni, és ha elvégezte ezt a nyolc osztályt, többet nem hajlandó iskolába menni. Majdnem így is lett. Jó, mondtuk, de egy szakmát: „Te is leszel üveges!” Ott viszont nagyon szerette a tanárát, és majdnem az elsők között végzett. Remek szervezőkészsége már az általános iskolában feltűnt, s bár az osztályfőnöke nem szerette, mindig őt bízta meg mindenféle dolog elintézésével.

A idősebb fiammal nem volt semmi baj sem az óvodában, sem az iskolában, alkalmazkodó természetű volt. Mindig közepesen tanult. Általános iskola után szakközépiskolába ment. A Ludovika helyén volt egy forgácsoló szakközép, azt végezte el, ott érettségizett. Nem tudom, hogy miért áll még, azt hiszem, az Erzsébet híd, mert amikor szakmai gyakorlatuk volt, oda kellett csavarokat készíteniük. Mondtam is, aggódva fogok átmenni a hídon, hogy azok a csavarok tartanak-e majd.

Apósom jól ismerte a Férfiruha Kereskedelmi Vállalat igazgatóját, így kerültem oda pénzügyi előadónak meg adminisztrátornak, bérelszámolónak – ez egy kis cég volt, az irodájuk nagyon kicsi volt –, mindent kellett csinálni. S ott dolgoztam majdnem egy évig, amikor aztán kikértek a Földmunka Értékesítő Vállalat 4. számú mélyépítő-ipari vállalatához. 1956-ot már ott éltem meg.

1956 nálunk elég zűrös volt, mert közelünkben, a Kálvária téren komoly harcok voltak. Annyira, hogy le kellett mennünk az óvóhelyre. A lakásunkhoz tartozó légópince nagyon kicsi volt, viszont a műhelynek a pincéje valamikor a háznak a légópincéje volt, úgyhogy mi átmentünk oda. Ez elég izgalmas volt, mert közben a Baross utcát lőtték.

Délután átvittünk valami ágyneműt, közben az apósomat majdnem szitává lőtték. Látni lehetett a falon a golyónyomokat, ami alatt ő éppen el tudott menni. Az anyósom otthon maradt a pincében a két gyerekkel. A nagyobbik fiam volt hétéves, a kicsi meg kettő. Egész estig így volt a család szétszakítva. Este aztán áttörték az oroszok az ellenállási vonalat. Az utca minden sarkára egy-egy tankot állítottak, előtte trolik álltak ott, az volt az ellenállás.

Akkor a férjem egy tolmáccsal odament az egyik orosz katonához, és azzal elintézte, hogy el tudjon menni a gyerekeiért és az anyjáért. Bementek a légópincébe: „Anyám, gyere, mert…!” – s ők kétségbe estek, mert láttak egy orosz katonát, hogy most már mi történt. De aztán a férjem a nyakába vette a picit, kézbe fogta a nagyot, anyósom mellettük szaladt, és így átértek a műhely alatti pincébe. Egy hetet töltöttünk lent, november 4-étől 10-éig. A ház többi lakója is odajött, és az alatt az egy hét alatt zajlott le tulajdonképpen minden.

Komoly lövöldözések voltak. Közel voltunk a Corvin közhöz is. Az egyik fiatalasszonynak a férje kiment a pincéből, hogy a kicsi babájuknak tejet hozzon. Akkor még a szomszédos Illés utcában volt egy tehenészet, oda ment át, agyonlőtték. Valaki aztán jött le, hogy a hirdetőoszlop mellett fekszik halva. Többször, amikor kenyérért álltam sorba és ott lövöldözés volt, szétszaladtunk, aztán visszaszaladtunk.

Előtte még – huszon-valahányadikán – jöttek a házba fiatal „ellenálló vitézek”, akik azt mondták, hogy itt nagyon jó lesz, a padláson géppisztolyállást fognak felállítani. Alig tudtuk őket elzavarni: „Kérem, itt gyerekek vannak, és abban a szempillanatban, amikor onnan egy golyó kimegy, akkor az oroszok rögtön küldik az ágyúgolyót, és a háznak vége van.” Végül sikerült ezeket a fiatalokat elküldeni. Úgyhogy mi nagyon benne voltunk ott. November 10-én vissza tudtunk menni a lakásba. Anyukám el akart jönni minket meglátogatni, és eltévesztette az utcát, mert a Baross utca és a körút sarkán lévő házat úgy összelőtték, hogy nem ismert rá.

Rövid idő múlva már bejártam dolgozni. Vidékről hoztak élelmet. Nagyon sokat hoztak, azt hiszem, akkor ettünk életünkben először pulykát. És tényleg, ahogy visszaemlékszem, én annyi pénzt kaptam akkor, mint még soha. Most ezért fizettek, most azért fizettek, amazért. Mindenki vásárolt. Én nem vásároltam. De! Egy svájci sapkát.

Voltak gondolataink azzal, hogy disszidálunk. De két kicsi gyerekkel nem mertünk elindulni, a szülőket sem mertük itt hagyni. Azt mondta az apósom: „Hogyha neked volna egy olyan üzleted, aminek a rolóját itt lehúzod, aztán kimész, ott felnyitod, és már meg tudsz élni, akkor jó. De hát mire mész ki? A teljes bizonytalanságra.” Úgyhogy kalandvágyból itthon maradtunk. A családból csak az unokatestvérem, a Manci meg a családja ment ki Amerikába az apjához, Ármin bácsihoz.

Én megjártam egy kicsit. Volt a nők felvonulása. Mikor is? November 23-án? December 4-én? Az asszonyok vonultak ki, és én velük, egészen a Hősök teréig mentünk, tiltakoztunk az oroszok bejövetele ellen. [December 4-én délelőtt Budapesten az asszonyok néma tüntetést rendeztek a forradalomban elesett hozzátartozóik emlékére. Kisebb csoportokban vonultak a Budapest terein eltemetett harcosok sírjához, s elhelyezték a kegyelet virágait. Különösen sokan érkeztek a Hősök terére. A fegyelmezett felvonulást szovjet és magyar rendfenntartó egységek fél 12-kor oszlatták szét. – A szerk.] Ennek alapján megint rossz káder lettem. Annyira rossz káder, hogy áthelyeztek az egyik Pest környéki telepre teljesítményelszámolónak, és az aktuális fizetésemelést, előmenetelt nem kaptam meg, ami járt volna. Elég sokáig ott voltam, de jól éreztem magam.

A vallás nem játszott komoly szerepet életünkben. Hogy zsidók vagyunk, tudtuk, és nem tagadtuk meg sohasem. Egymás között sem, mások előtt sem. Amíg anyósom élt, a nagyünnepeken őneki mindig volt a Nagyfuvaros utcai templomban helye, mi elmentünk elé. Ő volt az egyetlen, aki tartotta a vallást. A gyerekek legjobban szerették ősszel a sátoros ünnepet, amikor a lülevet lehet rágni, arra most is emlékeznek. Nagymama péntekenként gyertyát gyújtott, aztán szépen lassan leszokott róla. Kóser háztartást nem vezettünk. A széderestét nem tartottuk. Én amióta itt lakom, mostanában eljártam széderre. Azelőtt nem. De mindenről tudtunk, mindig tudtuk, mi a helyzet.

A gyerekeknek nem akartunk kettős nevelést. Ha ő úttörő, akkor éljen úgy, mint egy úttörő. Tehát akkor nem lesz vallás. Nekünk is elegünk volt a vallásból, mert a vallás nekünk semmi jót nem hozott az életben, csak üldöztetést. A férjem is meg én is szinte egész addigi életünkben abban éltünk, hogy bennünket utálnak, bennünket gyűlölnek – na, ez nem változott azóta sem. De azt, hogy mi otthon gyakoroljuk a vallást a gyerekekkel, és utána az iskolában egészen mást hallanak, meghasadt életük lett volna. Nem akartuk, nem csináltuk.

Ámde a fiúk mind a ketten körül vannak metélve. Salgó főrabbi volt ott a malenolásnál, az nagy ünnepség volt még. [Salgó László (1910-1985) Józsefváros főrabbija volt. – A szerk.] Azon kívül a kisebbik fiam nyakában ott van a mógen Dóvid [Dávid csillag], az az ő kabalája. Mindig rajta van. Amikor először megnéztük a Hegedűs a háztetőnt, még Bessenyeivel, annyira hatással volt rá az előadás, hogy vett magának egy mógen Dóvidot. A szívműtétje után – sajnos, volt már két infarktusa és bypass műtétje –, amint fölébredt az altatásból, rögtön kérte vissza a láncát, mert az őt megmenti.

Soha nem tagadta, hogy zsidó. Kérdeztem tőle, amikor katona volt, hogy: „Mi a helyzet?” Azt mondta: „Hát nem hencegek vele, nem dicsekszem vele, de úgyis tudják. Nem téma. ” Nálunk a családban nem volt téma különösképpen. Annyira, hogy amikor a fiaim párt választottak, mind a kettőnek keresztény felesége lett. Az unokák is nagyon jól tudják, hogy én deportálva voltam, hogy én zsidó vagyok, őbennük is bennük van a zsidó vér, de a vallás nem érdekes. Egyik vallást sem tartják.

Egyedül a karácsonyt tartjuk meg. Nem a vallás miatt. A menyem nagyon jól főz, mindig igyekszik valami különlegességet kitalálni vacsorára. Összejön a család, és azzal nagyon kellemesen eltelik a karácsonyeste a kisebbik fiamnál. Másnap rendszerint a nagyfiamnál ebédelek, és a harmadik nap valamelyik fiúnál összejövünk mindannyian. Együtt vagyunk, dumálunk, hülyéskedünk, jó a hangulat. Most már úgy vagyunk, hogy nem veszünk ajándékokat. Nehéz ma bármit is venni. Mert ha valami komolyat akarunk, annyi pénz nincs. Viszont olyasmi, amiről nem tudjuk, tetszik-e, az meg nem kell.

Nagyon szépen, csöndesen éltünk még együtt, a nagy család. Nyaranta szakszervezeti beutalókat kaptunk, mert azért én szakszervezeti tisztségviselő voltam, és majdnem minden évben vagy családos beutalónk volt, vagy a gyerekek mentek táborba. Az évnek két hetét rendszerint valamelyik balatoni üdülőhelyen töltöttük. Külföldre akkor még csak Csehszlovákiába tudtunk utazni. Mint meséltem én eljutottam Amerikába a nagybácsikhoz, később kétszer Izraelbe, és IBUSZ utazással voltam több helyen.

Lassan felnőttek a fiaink, és jöttek a nagy bajok. 1967-ben halt meg az apósom, 1968-ban az anyósom, 1970-ben az anyukám, és 1972-ben a férjem.

Az apósom hirtelen lett beteg, és három hét alatt elment. Hasi katasztrófa, így mondták. Mivel az anyósom volt folyton beteg, nekünk tényleg szinte lelkiismeret-furdalásunk volt, hogy vele alig foglalkoztunk, mert azt hittük, neki nincs semmi baja, sosem panaszkodott. Kiderült, hogy egy néma epeköve volt, az csinálta az egész bajt. Karácsonyra vaddisznópörköltet főztünk, apósomnak nagyon ízlett. Hajnalban kiment a spájzba, és úgy hidegen evett a szaftból. Úgy látszik, zsíros volt, besárgult. Az vitte el. Nagyon helyes, kedves, jó humorú idős úr volt – nem is volt olyan idős, 74 évesen halt meg.

Anyósomnak szív- és tüdőasztmája volt. Nem tudta feldolgozni a lánya elvesztését, ez súlyosbította a betegségét. Amikor először fölmentem hozzájuk mint menyasszony, és még házilag sütötték a kenyeret, mert nem volt ellátás, én dagasztottam be helyette. Elfogadtuk és megszoktuk, hogy ővele mindig foglalkozni kell. Ő ezzel nagyon visszaélt. Én meg fiatal voltam, és abszolút tapasztalatlan. Hálás voltam neki azért, hogy nem kellett soha a munkahelyemről hiányozni a gyerekek betegsége miatt. Ez akkor igen sokat jelentett. Mondtam, ez így jó. Nyugiban éltünk 20 évig együtt, tényleg nem volt különösebb veszekedés. Megszoktam.

Egyre jobban beteg lett, azt mondta az orvos, hogy a szíve tulajdonképpen egy nagy darab lagymatag izom. Minden kórházat végigjárt, de otthon is ápoltuk. Megtanultam injekciót beadni, de az orvos is jött minden reggel a vénással. A kisfiam is már úgy tudta, hogy éjszaka milyen csöppeket kell adni, hogy lámpa nélkül be tudta adni a nagymamának. Persze szeretett minket a maga eléggé önző módján. Csak úgy tudott életben maradni, hogy ilyen önző volt, hogy magának mindent kikövetelt. Apósom után egy évvel, 71 évesen ő is meghalt.

Amikor az apósom meghalt, az anyósom kapta meg özvegyi jogon a műhelyt. A férjem kimaradt a munkából, és átvette a dolgokat. Ő már más iramban dolgozott, mint az apósom. Kezdett beindulni az üvegezés. Anyósom halála után övé lett az ipar, én bementem az üzletbe, a fiúk pedig a műhelybe, és volt két alkalmazottunk is. Elsősorban közületeknek dolgoztunk.

Négyen maradtunk, akkor éltünk. A lakást rendbe hoztuk, a nagyfiam megnősült. És akkor hirtelen megváltozott minden. 1972-ben, 49 évesen infarktusban meghalt a férjem, én 44 éves voltam. Nem mentem többször férjhez. Nem is igen kerestem, de nem is találtam senkit utána, mert azt mondtam, mi annyira egy húron pendültünk, hogy én még egyszer olyat nem fogok találni. A humor mindig velünk volt, és nagyon sok mindenen átsegített bennünket.

Ugyanabban az évben a házat és a műhelyt lebontották, el kellett költözni a lakásból, és egy másik helyen kellett berendezni a műhelyt. Megváltozott az életünk, teljes környezetváltozás volt. Talán azért tudtam magam túltenni a történteken, mert állandóan annyi munkám volt, hogy gondolkodni sem tudtam.

A Szentkirályi utcában kaptunk egy műhelyhelyiséget, azt kellett rendbe hozni. Megváltották nekünk, tehát a költségek nem bennünket terheltek. Lakni pedig kiköltöztünk Újpalotára. Akkor az még teljesen új terület volt. Panel. Ketten költöztünk oda a kisfiammal, aki azóta is ott lakik, a nagyfiam a felesége szüleinél lakott. Újpalotáról jártunk be a Szentkirályi utcába a Trabanttal.

Volt egy Trabantunk, amit annak köszönhettünk, hogy a Mózi befizette Amerikában. Csak a vámot kellett kifizetnünk, nem beszélve arról, hogy nem kellett öt évet várni rá, hanem három héten belül megkaptuk. Kénytelen voltam vezetni. De ahogy eljutottunk odáig, hogy a fiúk vezetnek, azt mondtam, hogy nekem elég. Nem voltam egy örömvezető. Amit muszáj volt, azt megcsináltam a kocsival, de ők viszont úgy megtanulták, hogy már a konyhaasztalon szét tudták szedni a motort is. Trabanttal lehetett. Szigorúan munkaeszköz volt a kocsi.

1984–85-ig csináltuk közösen az üzletet. Eleinte nagyon jól ment minden. Csak aztán családi problémák lettek. Én kiszálltam, mert nyugdíjba mentem, de nyugdíjasként tovább segítettem bent. A kisebbik fiam azt mondta, annyira megutálta az egészet, hogy ő nem hajlandó tovább csinálni. Aztán már olyan adókat és SZTK-járulékot vetettek ki ránk, hogy nem győztük. Még a rendszerváltás előtt megszűntettük.

Utána is dolgoztam, egészen 72 éves koromig. A Váci utcában munkaügyi előadó voltam a Kézműipari Vállalatnál három évig. Aztán szereztek nekem egy állást a Posta nemzetközi osztályán, ahol banki szolgáltatást végeztünk. Ez egy egészen kis részleg volt a Mester utca és a körút sarkán. Itt voltam nyolc évig. Ami nekem a legjobb, hogy még tavaly is levlapot küldtek karácsonyi üdvözlettel. Előtte pedig sokszor meghívtak a hivatali karácsonyi ünnepségre. Ott nagyon jól éreztem magam, és ők is szerettek. Jó társaság volt. Fiatalok között voltam, és én mindig nagyon szerettem a fiatalokat. Gondolkodásomban most is igyekszem fiatalnak lenni, ennek alapján sokszor zűrbe kerülök az öreglányokkal, mert én sokkal haladóbb gondolkodású vagyok, mint ők.

Tíz évig laktam Újpalotán a fiammal együtt, aki közben megnősült. 70 m²-es a lakás. Nagyon jól elfértünk addig, amíg nem jött a két kétnemű gyerek. Jól megvoltunk tényleg, de mondtam, amilyen gyorsan lehet, elköltözöm, hogy ti itt önállóan lehessetek.

Érdekes történet, hogy miként jutottam ehhez a lakáshoz. Hallottam, hogy vannak elhagyott kis lakások, amiket meg lehet pályázni azoknak, akiknek van bent lakáskérelmük. Volt a fiaméknak, én már régebben beadtam az ő nevükben.

Kerestem, sok kerületbe elmentem, kértem űrlapokat és címeket, néztem lakásokat, és beadtam rá az igénylést. Egyszer csak jött egy telefonértesítés, hogy van az Asbóth utcában egy lakás. Még tanács volt, a rendszerváltozás előtt. Megnéztük, nem volt rossz. „Megfelel a lakás?” – „Megnéztük, megfelelne.” – mondták a fiamék. S már kezdték írni a papírokat, amikor azt mondja a nő: „Na és akkor mi lesz az újpalotai lakással?” Erre a fiam elmondta, hogy: „Mi édesanyámmal lakunk együtt, és azért szeretnénk, ha ezt a lakást megkapnánk, mert akkor ő ide költözne, és mi…” – „Szó se lehet róla, ezt így nem lehet megcsinálni, akkor azt a lakást le kell adni!” – „Leadni, és azért kapok egy egyszobás lakást? Hát akkor maradjunk annyiban, hogy nem felelt meg. Nem kell.”

Vagy három hét múlva új hír, hogy a Hegedűs Gyula utca 3.-ban van egy lakás, nézzük meg, menjünk fel a lakásosztályra. Nem is akartak menni. Mondom: „Menjetek, gyerekek, hátha…” Fölmentek, ott is megkérdezték, hogy mi fog történni a másik lakással, és a fiam leadta ugyanezt a szöveget.

S akkor azt mondta az előadó: „Hát ez nagyszerű ötlet! Ez egy remek gondolat! Akkor még egy lakáshelyzetet így meg tudunk oldani.” Rögtön megadta, hogy hol lehet a lakáscserét lebonyolítani, akkor volt egy külön hivatala a lakáscserének. Tehát tökéletesen mást mondott. Így szépen, egyelőre a fiam nevére adták ki ezt a lakást, rögtön utána mentünk a cserét intézni. Arra gondoltam, hogy a másik nő éppen összeveszett az anyósával, és azért válaszolt olyan elutasítóan.

Amikor megtudtam ezt a lakást, nagyon boldog lettem. Hiszen akárhányszor errefelé jöttem anyukámhoz, amíg élt, de utána is, ha valahogy erre vitt a dolgom, szinte honvágyam volt, hogy itt lennék itthon. Az összes házhoz komoly emlék köt. És akkor idekerültem. Nem valami jó a lakás, mert sötét, nap sose süt be, de a környék, az az enyém.

Rengeteget dolgoztunk rajta. Mindent a fiam csinált. Kitaláltuk, hogy minél jobban ki lehessen használni a helyet, a szobában is és a konyhában minden cm-re ki lett számítva. Egy személynek, énnekem ez így nagyon jó. Őnekik meg ott a szép lakás. És ami nekem rettenetesen tetszett és nagyon jólesett, hogy már amikor ideköltöztem, és elmentem hozzájuk látogatóba, azt láttam, hogy a konyhában a lábosok, minden, pontosan úgy van, ahogy azt én hagytam. Ez azt mutatta, hogy a menyemnek is ez így volt jó.

Én már nem főzök, csak néha, ha valamihez kedvem van. Itt a 9.-ben a zsidó hitközség adja az ebédet, ott eszem mindennap. A nyugdíjam természetesen kiegészül a deportáltaknak járó német kárpótlással, és kapok még életjáradékot, amit a MAZSÖK intézett el. Meg vagyok elégedve. Abszolút nem érdekel, hogy másnak mennyije van, én meg tudok élni. És ha az ember 80 éves, hát istenem, kopik, van ilyen-olyan baja, de elfoglalom magam egész nap.

Itt a házban van a templom, de ide hívőként, istentiszteletre nem nagyon járok. Mert elveim vannak. Én nem tartom magam másodrendű embernek. Ez a zsidó vallással is szemben van. Mivel a karzatot nem tudják megtölteni – már a földszintet se nagyon –, a földszinten tüllfüggönnyel elválasztottak egy részt, és a mögött vannak a nők. Na, én függöny mögé nem megyek! Én ugyanannyinak tartom magam, mint az a férfi, aki ott van. Én nem hagyom magam!

A templomnak viszont van egy klubja az emeleti részen, és oda lemegyek mindennap kanasztázni, beszélgetni. Több asztal van. Az egyikre azt mondtam, hogy az a smúz asztal. Nem tudták az ott lévő nők, mit jelent, azt hitték, hogy ez valami sértő. Márpedig ez nem sértő, a zsidók smúzolnak. Vagy kártyáznak, vagy smúzolnak. [Smúzol (jiddis) – bizalmasan beszélget, cseveg.] Naponta 25–30 ember jön össze, nők többen, férfi csak néhány, és rettentő hangosak. De ha ott tíz ember leül, és csak normális hangon beszél, már az nagyon hangos.

Van egy másik társaságom is, ahová havonta járok: az osztálytársaimmal, akikkel együtt érettségiztem, minden hónapban – sajnos egyre csökken a létszám –, az utolsó pénteken összejövünk a Centrál Kávéházban. Babazsúrnak hívjuk.

Még egy rendszeres elfoglaltságom van. Hetenként egyszer telefonügyeletes vagyok a Magyar Zsidó Szociális Segély Alapnál, ami a Claims Conference-nek egyik része. Ez önkéntes munka. Ők kapnak az alapítványtól pénzt, és azt szétosztják különböző dolgokra, gyógyszerre, rezsiköltségre, ilyesmikre, és mivel én is kaptam tőlük, úgy éreztem, hogy elemi kötelességem, hogy valamit visszaadjak – legalább ezt. A bentiek állítólag nagyon meg vannak velem elégedve, már két tanítványt is küldtek hozzám, hogy hallják, hogy én hogyan csinálom a dolgokat.

Vannak itt olyanok, akik idősekhez járnak ki beszélgetni, arra nem vállalkoztam. Én már nem akarok a holokausztról beszélni. Vannak, akiknek nincs más témájuk, csak ez. Akármiről kezdenek beszélni, oda lyukadnak ki. Így van ez a templomi klubban is. Mindig mondom nekik: „Azóta már eltelt több mint 60 esztendő, próbálj meg megszabadulni tőle, hiszen ha őket elengeded, akkor ők is jobban fogják érezni magukat ott a túlvilágon. Akkor fognak megnyugodni, ha te itt megnyugszol.” Van, aki azt mondja: „Igen, igazad van, de mit csináljak, már mást nem tudok csinálni.”

Az Izraelben élő unokahúgommal telefonon tartom a kapcsolatot, a fiam pedig az unokaöcsémmel, aki Haifán él, e-mailen keresztül. Leveleznek, fényképeket küldenek egymásnak. Ez izgat. A számítógép. Lehet, hogy lesz belőle valami. Mindig azt mondom, ha annyi ember meg tud tanulni valamit, akkor én miért ne tudnám? Csak egy kicsit utána kell nézni a dolgoknak. Állítólag most lesz a Révay utcában [itt működik a Bálint Zsidó Közösségi Ház – A szerk.] egy tanfolyam a nagymamák részére. Na, erre akkor befizetek. Nagymama–unoka tanfolyam van, de az nem kell, hiszen az unokák nagyon tudnak mindent, és már nem olyan korúak, hogy velem jönnének.

Négy unokám van, 30 év körüliek, és egy dédunokám. Most már inkább a fiaimon keresztül tudom, mi van velük. A saját életüket élik. Lakásszerzés, az egész család és a munka megszervezése, ehhez a nagymama már nem kell. Olyan feladataik vannak, amilyenek nekünk is annakidején voltak. Én ezt meg is értem. És időnként nem baj az, ha én hívom fel őket. Hiszen a telefonnak két vége van.

Tatiana Nemizanskaya

Tatiana Isaacovna Nemizanskaya
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Lyudmila Lyuban
Date of interview: April 2002

Tatiana Isaacovna Nemizanskaya is a slim woman of average height.
She is very active in spite of her age (78);
she is very much interested in political events in this country and abroad,
especially in Israel.
She reads a lot, has a perfect memory and remembers the names of her schoolteachers,
who taught her 60 years ago.
Her speech is very clear and correct, however, speaking in front of a tape-recorder,
she gets very nervous and turns around a lot.
She lives together with her cousin’s daughter.
She is energetic and goes to pick up the Hesed 1 packages herself.

Childhood and family

During the war

My relatives' fates

Later life

Glossary

Childhood and family

I, Tatiana Isaacovna Nemizanskaya, nee Svoiskaya, was born in the town of Nevel in Pskov province in 1924. My paternal grandparents died before the Revolution 2, long before I was born and I know very little of them. They lived in the village of Lobino close to Nevel. There were a lot of Jews in that village with the name of Svoisky.

My grandfather’s name was Borukh, he was a farmer like everyone else in the village. My grandmother’s name was Sterna and her name is translated into Russian as ‘Tatiana’ 3. I was given this name in honor of my paternal grandmother. Grandma kept the household and raised the children. They had five children: my father Isaac, another son called Mendel and three daughters: Golda, Ida and Tsilya. Nothing remained about them in my memory.

My maternal grandparents came from Nevel and lived there all their lives. Grandpa Iosif Gendel – Jewish name Ysef Leisar – was born in 1866. He finished cheder and was a religious and educated man. He prayed a lot, attended the synagogue regularly and observed all Jewish traditions. Mom told me that he always wore tallit and tefillin when he prayed. He also wore a kippah, he had a beard and moustache and he wore a frock coat during holidays. Mom also told me that Grandpa was a very wise man.

His job was not common: he gold-painted Russian Orthodox churches. He also had a business of his own. Such gold-painting experts’ teams were not only involved in gold-painting Russian Orthodox churches and icon frames, but also worked in rich people’s households. A Jewish gold-painter was considered a craftsman; he was hired for fulfilling private orders: gold-painting candlesticks, mirror frames and other expensive household goods in rich homes. When such a gold-painting craftsmen team was hired for the restoration of the Nevel convent, the craftsmen received an order to gold-paint the domes of the convent Cathedral. Fulfillment of the order required a lot of time – several years – since gold painting is a very thorough and laborious operation.

Grandpa died very early, he was a little bit older than 50. He died in his sleep. Mother told me that she had tried to wake him up but he was dead already. It must have been a heart attack. It happened in the 1920s. I have never seen him in my life.

I remember my maternal grandma very well. Her name was Rakhil – Jewish name Rokhl Leya – Gendeleva, nee Tseitlina. She was born in Nevel in 1871 and never left the town. She was as religious as my grandpa, she prayed a lot, attended the synagogue often, kept kosher, observed Sabbath and all Jewish holidays. As children we very often visited her on holidays and thus felt ourselves part of the Jewish community. Grandma also treated us to very delicious Jewish meals.

Grandma’s mother tongue was Yiddish, she spoke this language to all adults. She spoke Russian to us, the children. We knew Yiddish, however, we could not speak it very well, but we could understand everything perfectly. Grandma didn’t wear a wig, but always covered her hair with a headscarf. She wore a black lace shawl on holidays. She was a very beautiful woman, but her clothes were always very modest. 

Grandma lived in a house of her own with three rooms and a large hall. The house had extensions and there was a shed and a vegetable garden near the house. Grandma kept a cow and was busy with the household. Peasants from neighboring villages, her acquaintances who knew her for many years, visited her and stayed in the house. She prepared dinner for them, cooked fish, since Nevel was a ‘fish town.’

Nevel is located in a beautiful place. There is a big lake in the middle of the town, where young people spent a lot of time in summer, swam in the lake and went boating. A forest with a lot of mushrooms and berries surrounds the town, there are a lot of lakes; it is an area rich in lakes and fish. There were a lot of gardens in the town and a wonderful town park with brass band performances and dancing during the weekend.

Nevel, the ‘fish town,’ supplied all surrounding regions and almost all Russian cities with fish. There was a lot of fish in Nevel’s numerous lakes. Merchants arranged deliveries and sales of fish as well as exchange of fish for other goods. Up to ten people or even more visited my grandmother at times. This was her occupation – she had her own business, as they call it now. She had a housemaid, a Russian woman, who did all the housework during Sabbath and on Jewish holidays.

My grandparents had four children: Chaim [1888-1943], my mother Sofia [1893-1976], Isaih [1897-1951] and Mendel [1902-1973]. When Grandpa died all children were grownups.

I remember only Grandma’s sister Tseita, who lived in Nevel, she died before the war 4. Grandma was 70 years old before the war. Though she stooped a little bit, she remained very active and lively.

The town of Nevel, where our family lived, was small; it had a population of approximately 20 thousand people. It was located on the border with Belarus. Nevel was an international town before the war. People of various nationalities lived close to each other: Russians, Jews, Belarusians and Poles. People lived in friendship and helped each other.

There were a lot of Jews in the town. One could hear Yiddish everywhere – in the street, in the marketplace, in stores. There was a single-floor, white-stone synagogue in the town and a Jewish school, which my brother attended. There was certainly a Jewish community, however, in the 1930s only Orthodox Jews attended it openly – mostly old people. Young Jews became public figures, activists and stepped aside from religion. They did not observe Jewish traditions, since the Soviet regime did not welcome it and propagated atheism 5. Right before the war both the synagogue and the Jewish school were closed.

There were a bristle factory, a canned food plant and a milk factory in town. A large number of citizens worked at theses enterprises, including the Jewish population. Houses were mostly wooden and one-story. There were several two-story brick buildings only in the center of the town. Electricity was introduced in Nevel only before the war, everybody used oil lamps. There was no water supply system; we had to get water from the well. There were no cars either and we rode horses both in winter and in summer.

All food products were bought at the marketplace, nothing could be purchased in stores at those times. The marketplace was big, food products and hay were sold there; hay was delivered on carts. Kosher food and meat were sold at this market. There was also a Torgsin store in town 6. I remember quite clearly how we exchanged a silver cigarette-case for walnuts.

There was an amateur Jewish Theater, where plays of Jewish and other writers were staged. Actors from other cities came to our town and very often they were Jewish actors, who performed classical plays, translated into Yiddish. A visit of our famous compatriot, pianist Maria Veniaminovna Yudina [1899-1970], created a real furor. We never missed a performance or concert, trying to be closer to the Jewish culture. This was how Nevel was like during my childhood.

My father, Isaac Borisovich Svoisky, was born in Lobino in Pskov province in 1888. He finished cheder and his mother tongue was Yiddish. He worked as a carpenter in a carpenter’s shop. He was a very handsome man. Later he moved to Nevel alone and met his wife to be, my mother, there.

During World War I my father served as a soldier in the Tsar’s Army. However, after he was wounded he managed to return to Nevel and in 1915 he married my mother. The wedding was with a chuppah, according to Jewish tradition, as my mother told me. But it was done mostly under the influence of my mom and her parents, who were very religious. Father, as I recall, was not religious, really. I don’t remember him praying.

My mother, Sofia Iosifovna Svoiskaya, nee Gendeleva, was born in 1893 in Nevel. She was raised in a religious family that observed all Jewish traditions. She finished four grades of a Jewish school; her mother tongue was Yiddish. However, she spoke Russian with us children. When my brother Boris [1916-1941] was born, he was circumcised. Then three daughters were born: Rosa [1919-1943], Tatiana [1924, the interviewee] and Minna [1926-1943] – everyone in the family called her Minya.

Most of the time my mother worked in day nurseries. Besides, she was a public activist and was elected delegate of the City Soviet [City Council of Working Class Delegates – local executive authority body], where she worked in the women department, responsible for solving women and children’s problems. Public activists were prohibited from going to the synagogue, but Mother sometimes attended it secretly, so that no one would find out. She also took us with her, when we were small. We celebrated only Soviet holidays at home: 7th November 7, 1st May. We visited our grandma on Jewish holidays.

We lived separately from Grandma; we had a three-room apartment in a two-story brick building in the center of the town. There was a Russian stove 8 in the kitchen, three stairs led to a big room, which was called ‘the hall’ and there were two other smaller rooms. We had stove heating. The rooms were furnished very well. We had a grand piano, a huge wall-size mirror in a bronze frame, a card-table, arm-chairs and a big table covered with a beautiful Japanese table-cloth. There were statuettes everywhere, the beds were covered with bedspreads and covers, beautifully embroidered by nuns – there was a convent in town where one could buy all these goods. Pictures and a big tapestry depicting a landscape hung on the walls.

Five more Jewish families lived in our house. We got on well with them. Mom was a tall, slender woman, she was very energetic and active. She could do any work and was a perfect housewife. Everybody loved her. Right before the war she started to work as a matron at the Nevel Municipal Hospital.

My childhood passed in a very warm and benevolent atmosphere. First I attended a kindergarten, then I went to school. The kindergarten was a Jewish-Russian one. The school was turned into a Russian school by that time and was called First General Education School 9.

We all studied well at school, both my sisters and me. We were excellent pupils. Our praise letters were pinned to the walls at home. I loved literature and read books most of my free time. I also loved amateur art activities, especially singing.

We had very good teachers. The amateur singing club was directed by a wonderful woman, Yevgeniya Yevgeniyevna Yuryevskaya, a representative of an ancient noble family. She also worked as a regular teacher of music at school. Other teachers were also brilliant specialists. A lot of teachers were Jews. There was no anti-Semitism either at school or in Nevel at all. I finished school right before the war; I was hardly 17 years old at that time. My closest friends were three Jewish girls: Tanya Romanovskaya, Veta Khanina and Rosa Shulkina.

I went to Leningrad for school holidays, first to visit Mom’s brother Isaih and later to my elder sister Rosa, who studied at an institute there. I remember how we went to the theater with her to watch the ‘Uriel Acosta’ performance. I liked the performance very much. The theater was situated on the Petrogradsky Side in the Cooperation House.

My brother Boris was eight years older than myself. He finished seven grades of the Nevel Jewish school and left for Leningrad to continue his studies. He graduated from the Refrigeration Technical School, came back to Nevel and studied by correspondence at the Leningrad Refrigeration Institute. He served for a fixed period in the Soviet army in the Far East in the city of Blagoveschensk. He was demobilized right before the war and continued to work and study.

My elder sister Rosa finished Nevel high school with honors and entered the Leningrad Institute of Foreign Languages. She lived in the institute dormitory not far from Smolny. In summer 1941 she passed the exams for the fourth year of study ahead of schedule and came to Nevel. My younger sister Minya finished the eighth grade at school by that time. She was 15 years old.

During the war

On 22nd June 1941 our whole family was gathered together. We were happily making plans. Rosa was trying on new shoes. Suddenly we heard on the radio that the war had started. The next day Boris left for the front as a volunteer.

Soon the town was flooded with refugees from Belarus, Poland and Lithuania. They told us that Jews would better escape. Some Jews evacuated, others stayed. My grandma Rakhil was very stubborn and told us flatly that she was not going anywhere. Father supported her. Mother could not get leave from the hospital. However, she understood that it was absolutely necessary to flee so she continued to persuade everybody. Finally we got our belongings loaded onto a cart and tried to leave the city. However, we were forced to go back home because of combats all around Nevel.

On 15th July the Germans entered the town. At first they did not touch the Jews, though we did leave our house and lived in a hut on the outskirts. There was a military camp not far from us. The Germans drove prisoners of war to that camp. Suddenly Mother found out that our Boris was among those prisoners. She rushed to the camp and miraculously managed to bring him home. Boris was taken prisoner near Polotsk town. No one gave him away in prison – no one told the Germans that he was a Jew. Boris told us that when they were delivered to Nevel, he hoped that we had already managed to escape.

On 3rd August Germans drove all Jews together, around 800 people, to the ghetto. Our family was among the prisoners. Old people were placed near the former ‘Blue Summer House’ estate, all the rest were located in old shabby buildings behind the ‘humpbacked bridge.’ Together with us in a room of 25 meters another three families lived and slept on the floor. People under escort were forced to clean the roads and administrative buildings. We were not given any food, we stole from the vegetable gardens, and sometimes our Russian friends brought us something to eat.

By the end of August the prisoners had a foreboding. The Germans reinforced the guarding in the ghetto and became even more brutal. Rosa and I tried to escape. Father cried, ‘Don’t do it, they will kill you!’ But we still took the risk. It happened on 1st September. There was an old German on guard. We told him that we were going to visit our grandma at the ‘Blue Summer House.’ He let us through and turned away from us.

We didn’t know where to go. Mother gave us her friend’s address. He was a hospital employee; his name was Yurinov. He was Russian and lived with his big family in a village not far from the town of Pustoshka, 40 km from Nevel. He had promised to help us. We walked during nights and during daytime we hid in the forest. Yurinov’s family received us very warmly. We hid in the forest at daytime and came to his house at night. In several days Yurinov’s younger son came to our refuge in the forest and cried, ‘Mrs. Svoiskaya has arrived!’ We ran to the house. We found our mother completely tortured, naked, wearing someone’s coat. She sat in the middle of the room and went on, ‘It’s all over now, it’s all over.’ When she came to her senses she told us what had happened.

On 6th September the Germans eliminated the Nevel ghetto. At first they took away all men, most of them were old men, and my father and brother were among them. They were made to dig out three huge pits. Then all of them were shot. After that all women and children were taken away and children were pulled away from their mothers. Everyone was undressed and shot.

When the first burst was fired and they could hear the bullets whining, Mother pushed Minya into the pit and jumped into it too. Dead bodies began to fall on them from above. The Germans did not fill up the pits, they just left. At night Mother managed to get out from under the corpses and crawled out of the grave. She tried to find Minya, called her by the name, but it was useless. My grandma Rakhil also remained in that pit. Mother found a man’s coat, put it on and went to Pustoshka.

Several days passed. The number of Germans increased around Pustoshka. Yurinov told us that he could not continue hiding us, as it was too dangerous. He gave us clothes, food and we left for Pskov. On the way to Pskov we created a legend about ourselves. Rosa and I had blue eyes and did not look like typical Jews. We invented a name and a story for us: we passed ourselves off for the Suvorov family, from Leningrad, who had spent the summer at our grandma’s place in Minsk, got under bombing and lost our documents. Mother, who had a typical Jewish appearance, pretended to be a stranger, whom we met on our way to Pskov. 

We came to Ostrov. Rosa and I settled with a Russian woman separately from Mother in order not to arouse suspicions, though there was no ghetto in the town so far, and Jews walked along the streets freely. We had a happy encounter here: we found our Minya. She also managed to get out of the grave and a German gave her a lift to Ostrov: her Russian appearance helped her. Minya also invented a legend for herself; she had already obtained an ‘Ausweis’ [a new passport] by that time and found a job. Later on Rosa and I also obtained documents at the commandant’s office. We washed German clothes and got bread and soap for this work. We helped our landlady in her vegetable garden and our mother, a wonderful knitter, traveled around villages and knitted cardigans.

Later on we got acquainted with Ostrov underground movement members, the leader of which was Klava Nazarova. Klava promised to take us to the guerillas. In spring of 1942 Shura Kozlovsky, a guerilla messenger, led one of the underground members, Yeva Khaikina and two Red Army men, who escaped from prison, to the guerilla camp. They were ambushed on their way to the camp. Shura and Yeva perished and those, who were taken prisoners, gave away those members of the underground party, whom they knew. Klava Nazarova was hanged.

We continued to seek contact with guerillas. Mother was first to get there. She was knitting a cardigan for a woman, whose husband was a guerilla messenger. He transferred Mother to the troop. Soon we also managed to join the guerillas. We were interrogated in the troop by Special Department Head, Pyatkin. He was trying to find out if we were German spies. We managed to persuade him that it was not true.

We were in different troops. Rosa worked as an interpreter at the headquarters, I worked as a nurse and Minya was a shooter. Soon Mother was sent by plane to the hinterland near Valday. She was accompanying the wounded. We were also offered to join her, but we refused flatly. Mother later got over to Kazan, where her brother Isaih evacuated from Leningrad [St. Petersburg]. We continued to wage war.

Our life at the guerilla troop was very difficult. We were almost starving, lived in earth-houses and moved from one site to another constantly. In May 1943 Germans encircled our troop. We tried to break the siege and lost Minya during the battle. After the combat a boy came running from Klimov’s troop, where Minya served. He told us that she had been wounded in the leg and the Germans had seized her together with other wounded guerillas and had thrown them into a cellar. The boy was also among them, but he managed to escape. Andreyev, our troop commander, told us that we would not be able to rescue them from the Germans. Minya perished.

In one of the combats a shell exploded near me and I pressed my hands against my face instinctively. This saved my eyes, as the splinter got into my hand. The next day Rosa was killed in one of the military operations against the Germans. Andreyev suggested that they sent me to Kazan, where my mother lived. He told me: ‘Your mother has no one except for you, all the rest are dead. She will not endure it if you are also killed.’ But I refused to go to the hinterland. I told him that I wanted to take revenge on the Germans for the death of my relatives.

I stayed in the troop until March 1944, when we joined the active Red Army forces. Most of the guerillas were killed in battles, including the commander of our troop. Our troop was disbanded. We were assembled at Khvoinaya station in Leningrad region for a two-week vacation. We were trying to come to our senses. This station is located not far from Leningrad, a very picturesque place. We spent time there as if in a health center. All guerilla troops from Leningrad region gathered there and our headquarters were situated on Dekabristov Street.

The headquarters issued us certificates and assigned us to different cities. I was assigned to Gatchina, but I did not go there, because I was shown letters from my mother, in which she asked about my sisters and me. Mother’s address in Kazan was written on the envelope, so I decided to go to Kazan. When I found the required street in Kazan, I suddenly saw Mother, who was walking out of the Municipal Party Committee, crying. She was told that two of her daughters were killed in the guerilla troop. So that was how we met. 

My sisters Rosa and Minya were buried in the forest where we were guerillas. My father, grandmother and brother Boris remained in the grave with murdered Jews in Nevel. There are three graves: men’s, women’s and children’s. After the war the Jews collected funds, which were used for erecting a monument on the graves.

My relative's fates

Mother’s and Father’s sisters’ fate appeared to be more successful. I remember only Aunt Golda, Father’s sister, who lived in Nevel with her family. Before the war she was a housewife and her husband, Leiba Treskunov, was a horse-breeder at a stud-farm. When the war began they were on time to evacuate to Tatarstan, so all their family survived. After the war they returned to Nevel. Two of their daughters are alive: Sterna, who is 91 years old now and lives in Leningrad. And Ida, who is 80, lives with her family in Israel. About my father’s other relatives I know only the following: his sister Ida lived in Moscow, Tsilya lived in Tver and his brother Mendel lived in Nizhny Novgorod. I have no other information about them.

We kept closer relations with my mother’s brothers and sisters. Mother’s elder brother Chaim lived in Rybinsk. He died during the war. There were no Germans, so his wife Tesya and daughter Minna survived. Chaim was an Orthodox Jew. When he came to visit us in Nevel he always prayed. At least I always saw him praying. When in 1945 the war ended, Jews were allowed to gather in their apartments to pray there and to celebrate Sabbath and other holidays. However, such gatherings were not advertised. In 1948 when Stalin’s repressions and persecutions of Zionists were resumed, such gatherings in apartments were completely closed down again.

Mom’s brother Isaih lived in Leningrad before the war, we visited him during school holidays. His wife’s name was Zhenya and they had a son, whose name was Sima. During the war they were in evacuation in Kazan, where first my mother found him and later on I joined them. Uncle Isaih came back from the war to Leningrad. He was an agricultural specialist. He died at the age of 54 and was buried at the Jewish cemetery. His son became a geologist, graduated from the Leningrad Institute of Mines. He died 15 years ago. 

Mendel or Mikhail Gendel lived in Nevel before the war, worked as a printer at the printing-house there. At the age of 35 without attending classes he passed exams to the Smolensk Medical Institute. Right before the war, when he was 40 years old, he graduated from this institute and worked as a medical officer, a surgeon, during the war. He came back to Nevel after the war and got married soon. His wife Malka was a physician too. She was much younger than him: Malka was my elder sister Rosa’s friend.

Their daughter Natalia was born in 1950. I separated from my mother after the war. Mother went back to Nevel and continued to work as a matron at the municipal hospital. I left for Leningrad to study. In 1945 I entered the Leningrad Institute of Mines and lived in the dormitory on Maly Prospect on Vassilyevsky Island. I did not feel any anti-Semitism at the institute. There were only two Jews at our faculty.

Later life

After graduation I was sent or assigned, as it was called 10, to the city of Karaganda [today Kazakhstan]. Assignment was a compulsory appointment for young specialists, everyone was supposed to work for two years at the place of destination. I worked at the Giproshakht Institute, which designed mines. My mother came to Karaganda, but couldn’t stand the local climate and left for Leningrad to her brother’s place. She visited the Leningrad Municipal Party Committee and told them about her fate. They allocated a small room for her, with an area of six square meters, in a communal apartment 11. I arrived at this room two years later, when I was transferred to the Lengiproshakht Institute [same Institute as Giproshakht, but in Leningrad]. I worked in this institute between 1952 and 1977, for 25 years. We exchanged this room for a bigger one of 13 square meters later on.

I was married twice. My first husband, Naum Bainstein, was a Jew. He was born in Leningrad in the 1920s and worked at the ‘Vibrator’ plant as an office worker. I got acquainted with him after returning from Karaganda, my relative introduced us. However, we lived together for two years, I think, not longer than that. After that we parted very quietly and peacefully and remained friends. Naum is no longer alive by now, but I don’t know when he died.

In 1958 I married Iosif Lipovich Nemizansky, everybody called him Iosif Lvovich. He was also a Jew. He was born in 1912 in Nevel. His father came from Nevel. His name was Lipa Nemizansky and I don’t know what his occupation was. His mother’s name was Rakhil, she came from a small Latvian town, Vendan. Her father was a local rabbi and her family was very wealthy. When Lipa and Rakhil got married, they lived in Nevel at first and later moved to Leningrad. My husband had a brother, but he died before the war.

My second husband was not a religious Jew either, like many Jews in Leningrad at that time. Iosif graduated from Leningrad Polytechnic Institute, the Faculty of Metallurgy, and had been working for many years at the open-hearth shop of Kirovsky plant. During the war the family stayed in besieged Leningrad. My husband’s father starved to death during the blockade 12 and was buried in a common grave at the Jewish cemetery. Iosif continued to work at Kirovsky plant until it was evacuated to Chelyabinsk. Both he and his mother, completely dystrophic, were taken out of the city. His mother died right after the war.

I didn’t meet my husband’s parents; I saw them only on photographs. According to the photos, they were beautiful people, very elegantly dressed. My husband, their son, was also a very handsome man. He was twelve years older than me; we lived in harmony for 22 years. We adored each other and called each other only by endearing names: Iosinka, Tanechka. He suffered from infectious polyarthritis. He once caught a flu, and this polyarthritis was an aftereffect. Half of our life I dedicated to taking care of my husband. He continued working at Kirovsky plant, already sick. He had a position of the open-hearth shop manager at that plant.

My mother lived together with us and was on very good terms with Iosif. Mother was a real needlewoman, she embroidered beautifully. I keep a lot of her works, mostly various pictures: embroidered landscapes and animals. She also continued to knit very nice cardigans.

There was no anti-Semitism before the war, it started to appear after the war 13 and of course during the war. The Soviet regime propagandized internationalism, thus we never felt any anti-Semitism among the Russian population during the war in areas, which were not occupied by the Germans. During the war we suffered only from the Germans, most of the Russians assisted us very much. I did not feel any anti-Semitism at work, it depended on the team and we had a lot of Jews in our team. Our institute manager, Shvernik, looked for and accepted all smart Jews, who were fired from other places.

I was not disturbed by the Doctors’ Plot 14, but a huge tide of anti-Semitism arose. Our neighbors at home yelled at my mother that it’s a pity that so few Jews had been eliminated by the Germans, that Jews had not even been at war, but had stayed in the hinterland. Mother quarreled with them and even fought with some of them in the yard. She submitted applications to the militia about these cases. A rumor was spread in the city that all Jews would be gathered and sent to Siberia in special trains 15. Certainly we suffered a lot from it, we were happy when Stalin died and the physicians were rehabilitated. No one in our family grieved because of Stalin’s death.

In the 1960s and 1970s, when religion was not persecuted, Mother prayed a lot. My husband and me took her to the synagogue and brought her back regularly every week. Mother died in 1976 of stomach cancer. She was 82 years old by then. The two last weeks of her life were very painful for me; I stayed at her side. Mother was buried at the Jewish cemetery.

In 1977, when I was 53, I had to quit my job ahead of pension schedule, since my husband was a totally helpless man by that time. He died in 1980, four years after my mother had died. He was also buried at the Jewish cemetery near my mom. We did not have children.

Now I would like to say a few words about my friends. I always had Jews as friends, some of the old prewar friends came back from evacuation to Nevel, but many of them left for Israel. They formed a Nevel society there, with which I keep contact by letters and phone. Some of my friends left for Germany and America. There are few Jews in Nevel now: 10-15 families, not more. Our close friends invited us to go to Israel with them, but my husband Iosif was very sick by that time, he was bedridden, and certainly he could not move anywhere. We took our friends’ leave very hard, continued to correspond with them for many years. They have died already, our friends were very old people. Very few of my colleagues are still alive.

I still keep very close relations with my cousin Natalia Mikhailovna, Uncle Mendel’s daughter. Natasha lives now with her husband and her mother in Nevel. She graduated from Pskov Pedagogical Institute and worked as a teacher of English – first at school and now at a college. Her husband, Mikhail Israilevich Zaidman, works at a clothes factory. Her son lives in Germany and studies at the Construction Faculty of Darmstadt University. When he visits our city, he stays with me. Natalia’s daughter Maya lives with me in St. Petersburg. She has just graduated from the Trade Institute as an accountant/auditor. I visit Nevel sometimes. My cousin’s family are my closest relatives now.

Life has become more interesting. I spend all my spare time at the library, read newspapers and magazines and take great interest in everything that’s happening in the world. Certainly I am very much worried about Israel. We were very worried about it in 1967 16, in 1973 17, and of course, we are very worried now. Each terrorist action echoes with pain in my heart.

I support all democratic undertakings in this country: Gorbachev 18, Yeltsin and Putin. I like the RFU faction [Right Forces Union], headed by Nemtsov, but I am mostly happy to see manifestation of good relations between this country and Israel.

My Jewish life changed a lot after in 1993 I became a member of the Society of Former Ghetto and Concentration Camp Prisoners, located on Gatchinskaya Street. Later on I started to visit ‘Yeva’ on Moika and the Jewish Welfare Center ‘Hesed Avraham.’ I made a lot of friends there, we celebrate Jewish holidays together, attend lectures and concerts. We take great interest in Jewish history and traditions. I receive monthly packages and warm clothes in Hesed and use their other services, which are free of charge – order glasses, go to the hairdresser’s, etc.. I also received two grants as a former ghetto prisoner from Switzerland. Germany still transfers me 250 Deutschmarks every month starting from 1995. All this supports me very much and I am very grateful for this assistance as well as for the attention. 

Glossary:

1 Hesed

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

2 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.

3 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.

4 Great Patriotic War

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

5 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.

6 Torgsin stores

Special retail stores, which were established in larger Russian cities in the 1920s with the purpose of selling goods to foreigners. Torgsins sold commodities that were in short supply for hard currency or exchanged them for gold and jewelry, accepting old coins as well. The real aim of this economic experiment that lasted for two years was to swindle out all gold and valuables from the population for the industrial development of the country.

7 October Revolution Day

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

8 Russian stove

Big stone stove stoked with wood. They were usually built in a corner of the kitchen and served to heat the house and cook food. It had a bench that made a comfortable bed for children and adults in wintertime.

9 School #

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

10 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.

11 Communal apartment

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

12 Blockade of Leningrad

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

13 Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’

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

14 Doctors’ Plot

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

15 Birobidzhan

Formed in 1928 to give Soviet Jews a home territory and to increase settlement along the vulnerable borders of the Soviet Far East, the area was raised to the status of an autonomous region in 1934. Influenced by an effective propaganda campaign, and starvation in the east, 41,000 Soviet Jews relocated to the area between the late 1920s and early 1930s. But, by 1938 28,000 of them had fled the regions harsh conditions, There were Jewish schools and synagogues up until the 1940s, when there was a resurgence of religious repression after World War II. The Soviet government wanted the forced deportation of all Jews to Birobidzhan to be completed by the middle of the 1950s. But in 1953 Stalin died and the deportation was cancelled. Despite some remaining Yiddish influences - including a Yiddish newspaper - Jewish cultural activity in the region has declined enormously since Stalin's anti-cosmopolitanism campaigns and since the liberalization of Jewish emigration in the 1970s. Jews now make up less than 2% of the region's population.

16 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.

17 Yom Kippur War (1973 Arab-Israeli War)

(Hebrew: Milchemet Yom HaKipurim), also known as the October War, the 1973 Arab-Israeli War, and the Ramadan War, was fought from 6th October (the day of Yom Kippur) to 24th October 1973, between Israel and a coalition of Egypt and Syria. The war began when Egypt and Syria launched a surprise joint attack in the Sinai and Golan Heights, respectively, both of which had been captured by Israel during the Six-Day-War six years earlier. The war had far-reaching implications for many nations. The Arab world, which had been humiliated by the lopsided defeat of the Egyptian-Syrian-Jordanian alliance during the Six-Day-War, felt psychologically vindicated by its string of victories early in the conflict. This vindication, in many ways, cleared the way for the peace process which followed the war. The Camp David Accords, which came soon after, led to normalized relations between Egypt and Israel - the first time any Arab country had recognized the Israeli state. Egypt, which had already been drifting away from the Soviet Union, then left the Soviet sphere of influence almost entirely.

18 Gorbachev, Mikhail (1931- )

Soviet political leader. Gorbachev joined the Communist Party in 1952 and gradually moved up in the party hierarchy. In 1970 he was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, where he remained until 1990. In 1980 he joined the politburo, and in 1985 he was appointed general secretary of the party. In 1986 he embarked on a comprehensive program of political, economic, and social liberalization under the slogans of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). The government released political prisoners, allowed increased emigration, attacked corruption, and encouraged the critical reexamination of Soviet history. The Congress of People's Deputies, founded in 1989, voted to end the Communist Party's control over the government and elected Gorbachev executive president. Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party and granted the Baltic states independence. Following the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991, he resigned as president. Since 1992, Gorbachev has headed international organizations.

Galina Natarevich

Galina Borisovna Natarevich
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Anna Nerush
Date of interview: January 2002

Fragile and graceful, affable and hospitable – these are just the external characteristics of the artist Galina Borisovna Natarevich - the daughter of a popular ballet dancer of the glorious Mariinsky (then Kirovsky) theater in pre-war and post-war Leningrad, Genrietta Raitsykh. But the main and surprising feature of Galina Borisovna is her love of life and her power of spirit. Life has challenged her with enormous hardships that few people ever encounter.

By telling the dramatic story of her beloved family in a lively and figurative way, Galina Borisovna feels her inseparable links with it again and again. For 30 years Galina has courageously born the weight of cares, looking after her disabled son. Thanks to her, Iliya has finished school. He is incurably sick.

When you see them together, you understand how deep and really inexhaustible the concept of motherhood is. The family lives in absolute poverty. Their son is disabled, and they have no means not only for medical treatment, but also even for decent food. They live in a two-room apartment in Nevsky Avenue, in a prestigious location.

The house has been occupied by commercial companies who approach them with proposals to sell their apartment and move to a less fashionable area on the outskirts of the city. But they wouldn’t give up, because they like the place and are used to it. That’s the kind of story this is.

  • My family

I, Galina Borisovna Natarevich, was born in evacuation in the city of Molotov [today Perm] in 1941. I never saw my father, Boris Leibovich Zilber, as he was killed in 1942 at the front. My mom, Genrietta Iosifovna Raitsykh, became a widow at the age of 23. My maiden name is Zilber. The history of my family is very rich in every respect. The archive of our family survived by a miracle. It really is astonishing, because the war lasted for four years 1 and the documents were taken as far as Molotov. And if they had been left in Leningrad [today St. Petersburg], they would surely have been burnt in the furnace, because people had to burn furniture and other things to keep warm 2.

The father of my mother’s father, and mother of my mother’s father, that is, my great-grandfather and great-grandmother, were Lazar Grigorievich Raitsykh and Hanna Iosifovna Raitsykh. The Raitsykh family comes from Baku [today Azerbaijan], and Hanna’s family – from Kharkov [today Ukraine]. The father of my mother’s mother, and mother of my mother’s mother, my great-grandfather and great-grandmother on the other side – Yankel and Shifra Shamesh – came from Vilno [today Vilnius in Lithuania].

My maternal great-grandfather Lazar Grigorievich married Grandmother Hanna after he completed his service in the army, against his mother’s will: her daughters weren’t married yet, and in Jewish families it was customary to marry off daughters first, and only then the sons could get married. A family quarrel arose, Lazar’s mother being very disappointed by his decision to get married. He died in 1932 at the age of 82.

Lazar Grigorievich Raitsykh was born in 1850 in Temirkhan-Sura in the Northern Caucasus. For those times, he was quite an educated man, technically competent and literate in Russian. But, nevertheless, he was an Orthodox Jew and observed absolutely all Jewish customs. Lazar served in the imperial army, in engineering troops. When he was demobilized, he mastered the profession of building contractor in oil-fields and conducted some kind of research into oil deposits.

Lazar Grigorievich had three brothers and three sisters. Two brothers, Avraam and Iosif, died during the revolution in Petrograd [today St. Petersburg] 3. And the youngest brother, Leon, never married and lived the life of a bachelor in the family of his sister Rosa. Their sister Anna immigrated before 1917 with her husband and son to New York. Sister Nadya died early, and left a daughter, also Nadya by name; Grandmother Hanna Iosifovna brought her up. Nadya worked as a nurse, was at the front during the war, and after the war returned to Leningrad. Sister Rosa was mentally disabled, her descendants now live in Israel.

My maternal great-grandmother, Lazar Grigorievich’s wife, Hanna Iosifovna Raitsykh, was born in Astrakhan in the middle of the 19th century. Hanna was completely illiterate, uneducated, spoke poor Russian, basically spoke Yiddish, but observed all Jewish traditions very accurately. For instance, if they had meat for dinner, she wouldn’t let herself eat ice-cream, which she loved very much, earlier than four hours after that. She was patiently waiting those four hours, because any other conduct was prohibited. Hanna was a housewife and had a very imperious character. After revolutionary events in Baku in the 1920s, all the family moved from a good apartment to another, worse one. It was a hard blow for Hanna, she fell ill and soon died in 1924 in Baku.

Their son, Iosif Lazarevich Raitsykh, married the daughter of Shifra and Yankel Shamesh, Sara Yankelеvna Shamesh.

The other of my maternal great-grandmothers, Shifra Shamesh – unfortunately I don’t know her patronymic – was a native of Lithuania, she came from Vilno. She lived in Kharkov and was married twice. She had children both from her first and from her second marriages. In the second marriage she had two daughters, my grandmother Sara Yankelevna and her sister Reizl Yankelevna. Shifra was an extremely religious woman and observed all Jewish customs. For example, as soon as she got married, her own hair was shaved off and she wore a wig ever after.

Shifra was going to marry a man named Yankel, but he was taken away as a soldier for as long as 25 years 4, and so she married another man. Yankel, having returned from his service earlier – for what reason I don’t know – also got married. But soon Shifra’s husband died, and at the same time Yankel’s wife died, and they got together again. A boy was born to them. And Grandfather was a tough man, and he declared, that if she didn’t bear him any girls, he would divorce her. And then she prayed zealously, and God sent her a girl, and later another one. One of their daughters was my grandmother, Sara Yankelevna Shamesh.

Shifra wasn’t a housewife, because she had to care about our daily bread. Her husband Yankel was a man of a very difficult nature, and besides, that service in the army made him into a lover of drink, he played at weddings, and probably earned some money this way, but he would immediately drink off everything he earned. Therefore Shifra had to arrange a pawn shop right in her house and in this way she managed to feed their children. It was a very difficult situation. Shifra knitted herself, and I think we even have the leftovers of that lace somewhere.

By the way, Yankel adored Dostoevsky 5, and read his books at night. She would come into the bedroom and say, ‘Meine student, please stop burning away the kerosene!’ Yes, Shifra was like an old Dostoevsky lady – the money-lender, but what could she do? She had to feed her family. In general, it was a risky enterprise. [Editor’s note: She could actually speak the two languages and this phrase was said partly in Russian and partly in Yiddish. Since the 1930s the Jewish schools were closed in the territory of the Soviet Union, and several generations of Jews had no chance to study Yiddish in the regular, methodical way, accepted in schools. They only knew the conversational variant of Yiddish, used in everyday life. That’s why their speech was so compilative and ugly at times, consisting of words in Russian, German and Yiddish. It might be difficult to understand in Europe and the USA, where Jews were able to obtain education in their native language, but this is a specific feature in the life of Jews in the Soviet Union.]

I know hardly anything about my great-grandfather on my father’s side, Gdaliy Dombrovsky. He was a very rich man, an owner of steamships, but I don’t know when – all his steamships sunk and he went bankrupt. My great-grandmother on my father’s side, Augusta Borisovna Dombrovskaya, came from Tomsk. I don’t know when she was born, or when she died. She was a very educated lady, knew several foreign languages, and she left Tomsk right after the revolution with her children and headed for Moscow, where, as I was told, she became one of the secretaries of Sverdlov [Sverdlov, Yakov (1885-1919): one of the leaders of the Communist Party of the USSR].

My grandfather on my mother’s side, Iosif Lazarevich Raitsykh, was born in 1885 in Astrakhan. It is a region on the Caspian Sea, near Baku. As a grandson of a Nikolai’s soldier he was granted a delay from military service and many other privileges, because a standard term of service in the imperial army was 25 years.

By the age of 22 Iosif finished the grammar school named after Alexander III in Baku. But it took him some effort to graduate, he encountered big problems there. Once he asked why he had received a mark lower than he actually deserved, and he was told that he was a bloody Yid. And he was ready to fight with the offender. He was expelled and had to go to Tiflis [today Tbilisi, Georgia], to some Georgian Duke, who supervised all the education in that region, to ask, to implore, and to submit an application on his reinstating in that grammar school. He had to pass many examinations as an external student, not attending lectures. Therefore his education was a little bit stretched out in time.

However, by 1907-08, all these problems were resolved. He had finished the grammar school, and he was even permitted to go abroad, where he was hoping to obtain university education. The Baku municipal council approved his departure, and the head of administration had signed the appropriate certificate in the Yiddish language, for which you were supposed to pay a tax of 75 kopecks back then.

In 1908, Iosif entered the University in Munich. He graduated from the medical faculty of that university, attended lectures in other universities besides Munich, in particular, the University in Halle and the Berlin University. Among other lectures, he attended those of Professor Virhoff, a well-known scientist in the medical circles. Iosif’s thesis was typed and published in German, a language he knew perfectly, and his diploma was a very significant work. And in spite of the fact that he had received his education in a solid European university, Iosif returned from Munich to Petrograd, where he was assigned to carry out medical service in the hospital of Prince Oldenburgsky.

In 1917 he married Sara Yankelevna Shamesh in Petrograd, and left with her for Baku. Therefrom he went to pass examinations in Kharkov to obtain a degree of an ordinary doctor [the first degree of medical doctor in those years in Russia]. He later received a rank of therapeutist in Kharkov, and returned to Baku. There Iosif supervised commodity warehouses, performing the duties of a sanitary doctor, examining the goods that were transported from Baku and back, for signs of any infections. He sometimes went to Persia with his wife. In summer, as a rule, Iosif went for medical practice to Azerbaijan and Khasavyurt [North Caucasus].

Alongside working as a sanitary doctor, he was also in charge of reception of patients. As he was a therapeutist, people of different nationalities came to see him. Grandfather spoke Azeri and Armenian. Azeris [being Muslim], as well as Jews, are prohibited to eat pork. Among them were tuberculosis patients and Granddad had to treat them somehow, and there were no medicines then, and it was necessary to give the patients fat food, not only mutton. Grandfather would make pork balls and give these to them, not telling them what they were eating. God forbid them from finding out what kind of medicine that was! So he tried to treat them by and large. But afterwards, when one patient had almost recovered, Grandfather confessed to him, and they say he felt sick and vomited. I don’t know, if it’s true or not. But anyway, there was such a story.

Grandfather had been ill with typhoid fever in 1919 and after that he suffered of short breath, weakness, chronic complicated inflammation of lungs and kidneys, as well as urinary bladder, obesity of the heart and a general corpulence. Due to his illness he was given the following diagnosis: valid for rear service, not valid for active military service. How Grandfather managed to survive. I don’t know how because very many people died from typhus back then, there were no appropriate medicines.

He was a very artistic, pliant man, he danced easily, despite of his corpulence, and was an easy-going man in general. He was invited to act in a movie. Films were silent then. He was cast in the role of a groom in a silent movie called ‘In the Name of God,’ shot in Baku in 1926. Then, after he moved to Leningrad, before the war, he acted in two films: ‘Peter the First’ and ‘The Girl Sets off for a Rendezvous.’

During his whole life Grandfather was a very religious man. The Soviet power was officially established in Baku in 1922. Observation of all customs – celebrating of Pesach and Rosh Hashanah – was permitted, but was supposed to be done privately, in someone’s apartment 7. It was allowed to visit the synagogue. But it wasn’t encouraged. I remember very well, that Grandfather used to put on a silk hat, a kippah, when he prayed. In everyday life he didn’t wear a kippah, as far as I remember, because it would have given away his Jewishness to other people, and this was in the Soviet times. He was a medical doctor and worked among atheists.

They celebrated Pesach and Rosh Hashanah in our house, and read the Haggadah. On Pesach, he always performed the seder. It was such a long prayer, and he necessarily wore a kippah. Some prayer books were kept in our family for a long period, but after Grandfather’s death in 1952 Mom handed them all over to the synagogue. If she had known Hebrew and could have read prayers herself, she would have kept them, but she decided that it would be more appropriate to give them to the synagogue, so that people who really knew Hebrew and could pray in Hebrew, as it should be done, could use them.

In 1932, when my mother, Genrietta Iosifovna was 14, she moved with Grandmother Sara from Baku to Leningrad to study ballet. Grandfather Iosif stayed in Baku for a while. But Grandmother Sara insisted on his coming over. I regard it wholly as my Grandmother Sara’s merit that she and my mom moved to St. Petersburg. It was the dream of her life to live in Petrograd, in St. Petersburg. But Iosif was a real Baku resident, all his roots were there, he didn’t want to leave at all. Grandmother pulled him out all the same, with all his roots. And he moved.

If my grandfather had stayed in Baku, when Bagirov came to power at the end of the 1930s, he certainly would have been executed. Bagirov was the chief of the People’s Commissariat of Internal Affairs of the Caucasus in general and Baku in particular. Bagirov had subjected many of Grandfather’s friends to repressions. Grandfather had many friends, in particular a lawyer by the name of Mikhtibek, an Azeri. That Mikhtibek perished.

In Leningrad Iosif wasn’t touched by the repressions, because his life wasn’t interesting to anybody any more. First thing, he was already disabled, and wasn’t employed in the state service. He had a private practice as a doctor in Leningrad before the war; he was allowed to do it. He personally didn’t suffer in any way before the war. And after the war he was already a completely sick person. He left with his family for evacuation to Molotov [today Perm], returned to Leningrad in 1944 and died in 1952. He was buried at the Jewish cemetery in Leningrad.

My maternal grandmother, Sara Yankelevna Shamesh, was born in 1887 in Kharkov in Ukraine. She had received an education there, became an obstetrician, or a midwife, as they used to say then. But as a medical nurse she could also work in other fields. She aspired to education, attended language courses and accounting courses. She passed examinations, took a great interest in Marxism, and was a member of a Marxist circle, where they read ‘The Capital,’ and where they were supposed to keep revolutionary leaflets. In general she was involved in the revolutionary life of Kharkov, since Kharkov was an industrial city, and there was a strong revolutionary mood there.

If it hadn’t been for the intervention of her mother, Grandmother would probably have had a different fate. Her mother had literally implored her to quit that infatuation with Marxism, and Grandmother got rid of it after all. Grandmother definitely went to the synagogue. Still in Kharkov, as it was customary, she was taught Judaism. A teacher of Jewish traditions and Hebrew language used to come to their house, and he treated her rather harshly. Whenever her answers were incorrect, he used to batter her, and Grandmother was a brisk girl, she would reply, ‘Why are you fighting?!’ And at that time her father was praying. And during prayer you are not allowed to talk. And only when he’d finished, he would turn and ask, ‘Who is fighting, what’s the matter, who is fighting?!’

And then Sara left Kharkov for Petrograd, though her father and mother, her sister and brothers tried very hard to talk her out of that decision. She left all the same, and found a job in Petrograd, however strange it is. It was very difficult to find a job in Petrograd then. She had the right of residence, because she was the daughter of a Nikolai’s soldier [Yankel]. In Petrograd she worked in the house of rich people by the name of Shuster, in the position of a nurse. The family was so rich that they could afford to hire their own nurse. Her duties included providing massages and injections, as they weren’t very healthy people, all of them. And there in Petrograd in 1917 she met Iosif Lazarevich and married him. They got married in Petrograd, and then went to Baku. Sara Shamesh died in 1964 in Leningrad, and was buried at the Jewish cemetery.

Sara’s sister, Rosalia Yankelevna Furmanovа, nee Reizl Shamesh, was born in Kharkov, too. She didn’t receive any education. She got married very early, at the age of 18 or 19. Her husband Furmanov was the son of a lishenets [lishenets – a man deprived of civil rights in the Soviet period before Stalin], a manufacturer in the past. His factory used to produce beds. He was arrested in 1936 after a denunciation, subjected to repressions and died in prison. And she became a widow, left alone with her daughter, but relatives supported her, and her daughter was able to receive some education. During the war she was in Perm together with our family, where the Kirovsky Theater was evacuated. She managed to flee from Kharkov literally with the last train, and they lived with our family in Perm throughout the war. By the way, she was a very beautiful woman.

My paternal grandmother, Dinora Gdalievna Dombrovskaya, was born in Tomsk in Siberia in 1885, and died around 1960. She kept her maiden name after marriage. She came from a large family, she had many brothers. I don’t remember their names. After finishing grammar school at the age of 18, she entered the St. Petersburg Medical Institute and became a dentist. She had dentist’s equipment installed in her apartment, and she received patients there. Dinora was a girl of strict rules: a student, who wanted to find her own path. In 1917, when the revolution broke out, she got married and lived with her husband, my grandfather Leib Borisovich Zilber, in Tavricheskaya Street in Leningrad.

Leib Borisovich Zilber was an engineer. He left with his family to work in the city of Mariupol in Ukraine, where they stayed for a rather long period, and then returned to Petrograd. He died in Leningrad in 1941, at the beginning of blockade, at the age of 61.

My father, Boris Leibovich Zilber, was born in 1912 in Petrograd. His mother was a dentist, his father an engineer. He had problems with acquiring an education afterwards, because he was the son of intellectuals. [Editor’s note: In the times when Boris was trying to enter an institute, there existed an official quota for applicants: mainly they admitted the children of workers and peasants. Each applicant from the intellectuals’ family encountered obstacles if he wanted to enter a college. It was not about your nationality, it had to do with your social status.]

Because of his origin he could enter only three institutes in Leningrad: the Institute of Physical Culture, the Agricultural Institute and the Textiles Institute. He chose the Textiles Institute, when he was about 18. Kosygin was a student of the same institute in the same period. [A.N. Kosygin (1904-1980): a prominent Soviet public figure, from 1964 to 1997 – the Chairman of the Council of Ministers of the USSR] Grandfather was his classmate, they were in the same year and even had very close relations. Boris graduated from the Textiles Institute and worked at the ‘Red Thread’ factory. Boris was a dispatcher of the quality control department, though he wanted to do something different, but it was impossible.

Then the war began in 1941, he went to the front as a volunteer and died in 1942. I never saw him. I don’t know very much of his love affair with Mom. I know that Daddy was a very sociable man: he had a lot of friends and acquaintances. Probably, one of Mother’s friends introduced them. They were young, they were both on vacation in Sudak, and might have met each other there.

My mother was born in the city of Baku in 1918. Mom was brought up by a nanny in Baku. When she was a small girl, she went to the synagogue with her grandfather Lazar Grigorievich, and her schoolmates used to make fun of her, and she was even criticized somewhere in a newspaper: they wrote that ‘Rita wears a pioneer tie 8, but visits a synagogue with her grandfather.’

The Raitsykh family lived in a good apartment in Gimnazicheskaya Street in Baku. That was a very decent house. There were seven or eight rooms in their apartment. There was an ice-box, a special room for storing food products, because it was very hot in Baku. They had ice brought especially for that purpose. The big family of Raitsykh in Baku consisted of my great-grandfather and great-grandmother Lazar Grigorievich and Hanna Iosifovna Raitsykh, my grandfather Iosif Lazarevich Raitsykh, his wife Sara Yankelevna and their daughter Genrietta Iosifovna.

By 1932, Mom had moved with her family to Leningrad, and began to study ballet dancing. I don’t remember the surname of her teacher in Baku, but I know that there was a school there that provided choreographic training. However, the Baku level of preparation was absolutely insufficient to enter a ballet school in Leningrad. Mom entered a choreographic school, but received a bad mark for technical merit, and a good mark for artistic abilities. My mother always worshipped Ulanova, she was the only standard for her in arts, because Ulanova was more than simply a ballet dancer. She was an artistic phenomenon that had an international significance, and that phenomenon had its roots here in Leningrad. [Ulanova, Galina (1910-1998): Soviet dancer, considered to be one of the greatest ballerinas of the 20th century.]

While working in Kirovsky Theater [1939-1959], my mom found herself in a specific environment, with its own rules and traditions. That was a special theater, the Imperial Маriinsky Theater, where Jews had never been admitted! A tradition remains a tradition. But that tradition was broken in the Soviet times. Before the revolution there were no Jews in ballet, even musicians of the orchestra all got christened. For example, a well-known musician, Volf Israel, was baptized. And Mravinsky’s aunt, the famous singer Mravina, she, too, was christened! There was a singer called Tartakov, a famous bass, he was a baptized Jew. So in general it was impossible for a Jew to cross the threshold of Kirovsky Theater.

The famous Russian ballerina Anna Pavlovna Pavlova was an illegitimate daughter of a laundry owner and an attorney. The attorney was Jewish. He didn’t marry Pavlova’s mother, but recognized the child. He bought a laundry for Pavlova’s mother and made her the owner. Before that, she was a simple laundress. Pavlova writes in her memoirs that as a girl she had often been to the theater with her mom. What laundress is this that could go to a theater?! Certainly, having such support, decently dressed, she could afford to take her child to a theater. You should understand that it was before the revolution. Then she officially married a retired soldier, Pavlov, who gave her daughter his surname. When for the first time her mother brought small Anechka to the choreographic school, there was a class lady who said: ‘But we don’t take Yids!’ She brought her the following year, and then somebody had probably asked someone, or something else happened, and she was admitted.

The first manager of the museum of the Kirovsky Theater was the famous photographer Shishkanov, he knew the biographies of Shalyapin, Pavlova and other leading figures of ballet and opera very well. He was an excellent photographer, a very erudite man and it was him who told us the whole story. The theater photographers were very highly qualified, and one of them was Mr. Bakman. Another expert photographer was Efraim Zalmanovich Lesin, a disciple of Petrov-Vodkin. He was a very good photographer too, and worked in the Kirovsky Theater for many years. When he retired he left for Israel.

When the war began in 1941, the Kirovsky Theater was evacuated to Molotov in an organized manner. Artists were permitted to take no more than 20-30 kilograms with them on the train. It was a train especially provided for the employees of the Kirovsky Theater. Families of artists and employees were allowed to go by the same train. By miracle that train wasn’t bombed on the way. Many trains were heading East then – to Perm, to the Urals. The trip in general was a hard and long one; some babies were born on the train. By the way, Grandfather attended to a delivery there, on the train.

  • My childhood and youth

I was born in October 1941 in Perm, in evacuation, it was the city of Molotov then. The war was going on by then. A few more children were born there, to actors’ families, so here I am, one of them. In Molotov my mom received the bad news about the death of her husband in 1942. In Perm the Kirovsky Theater conducted ballet and opera performances. They lived very poorly, there wasn’t enough to eat, not enough clothes to put on, but they proceeded to perform.

In three years the war was over. I remember very well our departure from Perm with my grandmother. I mean the departure itself, because I was very much affected by that extremely loud hooter of the steam locomotive, now nobody knows how it sounds any more. It was an absolutely wild siren. I don’t know how my ear-drums didn’t explode. That hooter of the steam locomotive, the blackness of that railway terminal, if it could be called a terminal at all. And that waiting for the train, that roar, staying at the station, I remember very well.

And the return to our destroyed two-room apartment in Rubinshtein Street, that is among the brightest of my memories, too. We found out that someone had put some hot objects, like hot kettles or pans – there were characteristic spots – on pieces of furniture, and that more than half of our things had been simply burned. We were left with nothing after the war. Complete strangers from the street lived in our apartment in our absence. Here and there, Mom saw some of our belongings in other people’s hands, but it was impossible to prove it.

When Grandmother and I came in, naturally, everything that was there was scattered all over the floor. A black round radio in the form of a plate was all dirty, but I had never seen a radio in my life. Everything was new for me. I seized it at once, and my whole face was immediately covered with dust and grease. And there was no water to wash me. The windows were sealed up. In general the condition of the apartment was awful, as far as a child can understand, at least it seemed strange and awful to me.

Shortly after the war was over, Mom married Mikhail Lvovich Dolkart, but they got divorced soon. Dolkart was Jewish, but my mother somehow couldn’t live in harmony with him for long. Jewish traditions in our family were kept only by Grandfather. Then Mom finished a correspondence course at the Conservatory and taught in the famous Leningrad Ballet on Ice. After a serious operation she left the stage. By then she had another husband, who was very devoted to her and took care of her after the operation. He saved my Mom, but died himself, and Mom’s mother-in-law could not forgive her for that. Having left the theater, Mom hadn’t lost her interest in ballet. She participated in the restoration of the city after the war. The Kirovsky Theater needed repairs, but there was a lack of manpower. Actors mended their costumes, washed the interiors of the theater after the war, participated in the restoration. It is all true, they really washed the boxes, dress circles and so on.

Strangely enough, our house in 23 Rubinshtein Street remained intact, and those two rooms that our family occupied on the fourth floor remained our property, because we were a family of a soldier lost in action. Stalin signed a decree then, granting the families of officers and soldiers, dead and alive, the right to use the apartments they occupied before the war, in spite of the fact that those apartments could be inhabited by others.

Our neighbors in the apartment 9 were the family of the commissary Yakimov, a lieutenant colonel, who served in the Military Academy. He was quite a good man, a Russian, Konstantin Ilyich Yakimov, a kind-hearted person. But he was a man of his time. His wife’s name was Alexandra Samoilovna Shapiro. In the beginning, our two families were on very good terms with each other, and we were friends, but then unfortunately we fell out, simply got tired of each other in the kitchen.

In post-war times, a strictly regulated quantity of food products was distributed on cards 10, all the rest was on sale for free market prices, and hardly anybody could afford it. People had to plan their family budgets based on these cards. But is it possible to feed a family of four or even five with ten or fifteen eggs? On Sundays we had potatoes and herring for breakfast. Yes, such was our breakfast. And a very good breakfast, if you asked us. We had vegetable medley frequently. But it was a bit later. And then, when I went to school, by 1947, the situation became better.

Almost up to my school age Mom didn’t take me to the kindergarten. There was a children’s group, in which there were different children, also Jewish ones. However it wasn’t a Jewish kindergarten. It was a paid private group, supervised by a woman of German origin. She took the kids for a walk, taught them the spoken German language and if she could – the German grammar. There were both Jewish and Russian children, whose parents were able and willing to pay. Our tutor’s name was Elizaveta Konstantinovna, and we called her Tante Liza, because she tried to teach us some German. But what German could it be! She couldn’t teach us to read Russian, if only a little bit. The thing is, though she was a very good woman, it all happened right after the war and everyday life was very hard.

I went to school in 1947. The school was in Proletarian Lane, nowadays Grafsky Lane. It is the city center, the corner of Rubinshtein Street and Proletarian Lane. The school exists until now, with a profound study of the Polish language. But it was an ordinary school back then, and we studied the English language. My favorite subject in school was History. We had an absolutely charming teacher called Galina Markovna Rekhter, whom we all loved and respected. In the last years we studied serious things, when the program was aimed at the new and most contemporary history. She was Jewish, a very clever woman, behaved herself perfectly and knew how to conduct the class. When I met her later, she always remembered us all, and always asked me about everybody.

I can’t say that anyone was treating me exceptionally badly at school. The school was good, the teachers were good. But everything could be expected from classmates. Especially by 1953 because the spirit of anti-Semitism was literally in the air 11. To say nothing of Mom, who was worrying that she would be dismissed from the theater, and on the whole, that they would take us all one day, put us in railway cars and exile us somewhere 12. Once my mother met a colleague on Nevsky Prospekt. Mom was holding me by the hand, and they were discussing the situation and whether they should prepare the valenki [Russian felt boots], and that it looked as though everyone would be put in ‘teplushkas’ quite soon [teplushka - a commodity car] and sent somewhere far to the North. That was their permanent subject for discussions. Everyone was in the state of fear.

I remember the celebration of the secular New Year of 1948, when I was seven years old. It was a usual secular celebration. There were many relatives and friends, and we have a photo from that event. The celebration took place in our home, because we had those two huge through-passage rooms, so we had to receive the guests anyway. Such were the dancing halls in the past. We had a good ceramic tile furnace – steam heating was not yet installed in 1948 – and we heated the rooms with fire wood, and it was a big problem to get that fire wood and heat these two large rooms. Grandfather Iosif Lazarevich stoked those furnaces himself; he was our chief ‘stove-man.’ We had exhaust ventilation. We lived on the fourth floor, we had such a steep staircase without a lift, and I feel terrified when I think of it. And it was a very hard climb for my grandfather, a sick man with short breath, it was really hard to ascend. But nevertheless, some patients came to see him on that fourth floor at his private practice.

I can remember quite well, that while my grandfather Iosif Lazarevich was alive, we couldn’t even allow the possibility of skipping those two seders during Pesach. This was like a law! Grandfather read the prayer, and all of us sat and waited until he finished, and the prayer was rather long. Nobody touched any food. In general we always had matzah. Grandmother used to bake it herself. It was a whole procedure. We started to make matzah only after the war. I also took part, rolling out the dough, making small holes with a special rolling-pin. We were helped by a housemaid, everybody participated. I always liked Pesach, it was all very solemn.

We had a very kind housemaid, a Russian woman named Zhenya. The neighbors also had a housemaid. They shared a small room in the kitchen. They helped around the house and took care of the children. It was a difficult situation with children, since after the war there were no baths, and Zhenya would go to banya 13 with me. Later her boyfriend returned from the army, and they got married and left. 

We celebrated, as everyone around, the New Year Day, 7th November 14 and 1st May. We sometimes went to see Grandmother’s friend Raisa Abramоvna Font on these holidays.

During my last years in school I also attended the children’s art school in Tavricheskaya Street. I studied drawing. At school I had different friends, and Jews among them, too. There was one friend called Rena Razhanskaya, who now lives in America, and another friend, Allochka, Alla Petrovna Shraer, also residing in the USA now.

I had neither brothers nor sisters, I grew up as an only child in the family. Sometimes in summer I was sent to a pioneer camp, because it was not always possible to rent a summer cottage 15. I had been to pioneer camps when I was a small girl. Certainly I was sent from VTO [the All-Russia Theatrical Society] to the camp for actors’ children. One summer Mom taught me to swim.

I have absolutely unforgettable memories of March 1953. It was on 5th March when Stalin died. And this very day is my mom’s birthday! Just imagine, what kind of atmosphere we had in our house: Grandfather was dead, Mom divorced my stepfather; Mom, Grandmother and I in those large rooms waiting, how things would turn out. Only women, the three of us, no support, no protection from anywhere. First of all, Mom was expecting that she would be dismissed from the theater, that she would lose her job, her piece of bread, as a Jew. Thank God, it didn’t happen.

In my younger years I didn’t go to the synagogue, because, first of all, it was not safe, and secondly, I had no time for that, I spent all my spare time in the Kirovsky Theater. All the Jewish influence on me was exerted not only by my grandfather Iosif, but also by the family of our relative, Yakov Abramovich Tverskoy, who was the son of a provincial rabbi from Tver region, and who suffered because of it, because his father, the rabbi, was put in jail in 1922 or 1924, and when he wanted to protect his father and restore justice, they sent him to jail. That’s why Yakov Abramovich didn’t receive an education, but he strictly kept to Jewish traditions. He had some rare Jewish books, which I looked through at his home. He emigrated to Israel at the beginning of the 1960s, as soon as an opportunity presented itself. He died long ago.

He was not alien to arts, he showed me a very good edition, in French, I think, of Marc Chagall 16. Later, when we were on an excursion to the Russian Museum with our art school, I saw the originals by Chagall in store-rooms, the pictures that were not exposed to the general public. We, the students of the art school, were lucky to see the works of Chagall, Serebryakovа and other tremendous masterpieces. [Galina Serebryakovа: a relative of Lancere and Benoit, emigrated from Russia, lived in Paris, the author of numerous brilliant works of art, a pearl of the Russian fine arts.]

After leaving school I entered Mukhina Art School. First, the preparatory courses. Now this school is the Artistic and Industrial Academy named after Vera Ignatievna Mukhina. Before the revolution, it was Baron Stiglitz School. I was a student of the department ‘Interior and Equipment’ at the Textile Faculty there. I first entered the evening courses in 1962, and then switched over to the day-time studies. I graduated in 1968.

  • Marriage and later life

I married Arkadiy Mikhailovich Natarevich in 1967. His father, Mikhail Davidovich Natarevich, was born in Vitebsk, the city, where Chagall was born, and my husband asked his mother all his life: ‘Mom, tell me, what is our relation to Chagall? And his mother would take a long time telling him what kind of kinship they were to Chagall. It’s not a fairy tale, it’s such a ‘distant’ Jewish kinship. His mother, Оlgа Аleksеevna Natarevich, knew what an extremely distant and complicated relationship they had with the famous Chagall.

My husband is an artist, a member of the Union of Artists, and he is dealing with stained-glass windows. In March/April 2001, there was an exhibition of four generations, in which artists starting from Mikhail Davidovich Natarevich and up to his grandsons took part. Arkadiy, certainly, took part, as did his two sisters, one of them an architect, the other – a graphic artist. Also there was a large exhibition in the Manezh.

My husband’s father Mikhail Davidovich Natarevich, an artist, was a Jew with religious feelings deep in his soul. But his inner religiosity was hard to be seen in the years when he had to join the Communist Party in order to pursue his career and feed his family. Mikhail Davidovich moved from Vitebsk to Moscow in the 1920s, entered the Arts College and worked in a theater as a props manager. In 1930 he moved to Leningrad and met his Russian wife Olga Alekseevna.  She failed to graduate from the Academy of Arts and later worked as an architect. They got married shortly after.

They lived very poorly in Leningrad, starved during the war, even when Mikhail Davidovich lectured at the Academy of Arts. The son of Olga Alekseevna and Mikhail Davidovich, my husband Arkadiy, was brought up in an artistic atmosphere. I heard about Arkadiy Natarevich, when I was still a student of the evening courses in the institute. And he was a day-course student. At first I asked my friend, Nina Solovei, ‘What kind of a person is he?’ She answered, ‘This Natarevich, he is very talented and paints very well already.’ And indeed, he graduated from that Higher Arts School at the Academy.

Once we were walking along Liteiny Avenue, heading to my house, and she pushed me suddenly with her elbow and said, ‘Here is Natarevich!’ And there he was, walking with his friend. And that’s where I saw him for the first time, and then we got acquainted at a party in the Academy of Applied Arts and even danced a little. He went to see us off. We noticed each other at once. He was ten months older than me, and as a student two years ahead of me, and studied in another department. Accordingly, he graduated before me. We got acquainted in 1962, and married in 1967.

Our son Iliya was born in 1971. But my child is ill; he’s got cerebral palsy. We now live together: I, my mom, my husband, my son, and our dog Chan.

Unfortunately, very many of our friends are now dispersed all over the world: in Israel, the USA, Germany and other countries. We have been abroad with my husband. For the first time we went abroad in 1986: we were in Hungary. We had a friend there and we visited Budapest, and we liked it a lot. It was not so easy for us to leave the country. My husband was let out as a member of the Union of Artists very easily. But as for me, enormous obstacles were put in my way by the OVIR [the Department of Visas and Registration], I get scared now when I recollect the procedure.

I haven’t managed to do interesting creative work in my life, my artistic interests failed to find expression. Unfortunately I live a very restricted life because of my family situation. Although my son is a grown-up man by now, my mom alone would have hardly managed to take care of him and basically it is I who keeps the house.

Despite my son’s condition, I was able to give him a high school education, he actually studied by himself, I just saw him off to school and back. It was a school in Zvenigorodskaya Street, a school for deaf persons, but with a normal program. That is, the program was a little bit stretched out in time, but otherwise it was a usual high-school program. So I went to school with him for about four years. I would take him by the hand, and as he was no longer a small boy, but a grown-up lad, it was rather hard for me physically. It was impossible to take him there in a wheelchair. It is generally difficult to roll a wheelchair in Leningrad. It is easy to roll a wheelchair in your courtyard, but otherwise… We usually took a trolley-bus near the Kazan Cathedral and reached the school somehow. Unfortunately he was not able to graduate from the Library College, because it appeared even more difficult, for me anyway.

  • 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 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.

3 Russian Revolution of 1917

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

4 Nikolai’s army

Soldier of the tsarist army during the reign of Nicholas I when the draft lasted for 25 years.

5 Dostoevsky, Fyodor (1821-1881)

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

7 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.

8 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.

9 Communal apartment

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

10 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 cancelled in 1947.

11 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.'

12 Birobidzhan

Formed in 1928 to give Soviet Jews a home territory and to increase settlement along the vulnerable borders of the Soviet Far East, the area was raised to the status of an autonomous region in 1934. Influenced by an effective propaganda campaign, and starvation in the east, 41,000 Soviet Jews relocated to the area between the late 1920s and early 1930s. But, by 1938 28,000 of them had fled the regions harsh conditions, There were Jewish schools and synagogues up until the 1940s, when there was a resurgence of religious repression after World War II. The Soviet government wanted the forced deportation of all Jews to Birobidzhan to be completed by the middle of the 1950s. But in 1953 Stalin died and the deportation was cancelled. Despite some remaining Yiddish influences - including a Yiddish newspaper - Jewish cultural activity in the region has declined enormously since Stalin's anti-cosmopolitanism campaigns and since the liberalization of Jewish emigration in the 1970s. Jews now make up less than 2% of the region's population.

13 Banya

A banya is a specifically Russian feature, a kind of big sauna for public use where people not only wash themselves, but also bring their bodies in healthier state by way of exposing them to the impact of very hot steam and massage with brooms of birch branches. Before the war and for a long time after the war, the majority of Soviet people did not have a bath tub at their homes, to say nothing of shower and hot water. You could only get cold water from taps. But still, the most important and traditional function of banya, taking its roots deep into the history of Russia, was to sweat in the sweating room. The rich clients could afford paying to special attendants who would beat them hard with the birch brooms on their naked bodies, thus increasing blood circulation and improving the overall condition of their health. Banyas are still very popular in Russia. They have similar things in Finland, not for public use, but private ones, for one family each, and they use dry heat there, rather than wet steam. They don’t use birch brooms, either.

14 October Revolution Day

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

15 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.

16 Chagall, Marc (1889-1985)

Russian-born French painter. Since Marc Chagall survived two world wars and the Revolution of 1917 he increasingly introduced social and religious elements into his art.

Rita Razumovskaya

Rita Razumovskaya
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Nika Parhomovskaya
Date of interview: November 2003

Rita Semenovna Razumovskaya is an active and positive-minded woman. Her laugh is so sincere, that you want to laugh together with her. Despite of that she had quite a hard life: the Great Terror 1, the Leningrad Blockade 2, the death of her husband, and responsibility for the children, whom she had to raise alone, and when those children were grown up, besides all the usual house chores she had to give her time to numerous pets. Nowadays Rita Semenovna lives together with her daughter Olga and three cats in an excellent three-room apartment. However, despite her age, you can catch her at home very seldom: she frequently goes to concerts, to museums and visits her friends.

My family

Childhood

Attitude to judaism

Life under the communist regime

During the war

After the war

Husband and children

Recent years

Glossary

My family

My maternal great-grandmother was called Zlata Naumovna Bam, first she married some Strunsky and took his name, and later she married some Troinin, who was living in Moscow. There were rumors that he wasn’t her husband legally, and after all, he was her relative. Anyway, the family name Troinin is a famous Jewish family name. His brother was some big shot, a politician, at a time when there was no such anti-Semitism in Russia.

So she had two husbands. Grandmother’s father was the first one; he was called Strunsky. I don’t know where my great-grandmother lived together with Great-grandfather Strunsky, perhaps, in some Jewish borough. I didn’t meet either one of her husbands, but I remember her very well, because she lived with my family on Vasilievski Island, on Siezdovsksaya line, in the house number 27, apartment 20. She was pretty old, and I was surprised how she could keep all her beauty, even though she was more than 80 years old. She was tall, stately, gorgeous, powerful and not kind at all. She didn’t like little children, including us, her great-grandchildren. She was interested only in our origins: she liked that we were nice and gifted, and since I was very slim and strong, she always pinched me and said, ‘Here you can see our roots!’

I don’t know anything about my great-grandfather Strunsky, but my great-grandmother was very religious. I remember her always praying: she put on some special traditional cloth; I don’t know what it was. In the cupboard she always had matzot, and we, the children, stole it, both because we liked matzah and also because we wanted to see what our great-grandmother would do. Also she read some Jewish book all the time, and we understood nothing in it. She spoke Yiddish more than Russian. And, thanks to her, I still remember some Yiddish expressions.

I know that my great-grandmother and great-grandfather on the side of my mother’s father, the Perels, were quite rich people. I heard a legend that in the bathroom they had golden seats on the toilet, because they were so rich! But I don’t know when, where and doing what kind of things, they became so rich. I don’t think that they were merchants. Maybe, they lent people money, because nobody mentioned any profession. They were not people who produced anything. They made money from money. Long before the [Russian] Revolution 3 they ruined themselves, and my mother’s father, Efim Perel, lost all their money, playing cards, and after it happened, he killed himself. He died very young.

Granny wasn’t like my great-grandmother, her mom, she was completely different. Grandmother was very small, she didn’t even reach my ear, and she was very merry, easy-going, an impossible coquette. I remember that even when she retired, she used lipstick. She always had her own life, as a young woman, she found herself in an artists and actors’ circle, she was friends with Shalyapin 4, and he carried her on his shoulders and called her ‘my little humming-bird.’

At home Grandmother was called Bertha Lvovna Perel 5, and her Jewish name was Beila Leibovna. And my mother had a document, where she was called so: ‘Sima – Serafima, daughter of Chaim – Efim, Shmaim – Semen Perel’. So I translated this text in the following way: Sima [Serafima] – that is my mother’s name. Daughter of Chaim [Efim] – her patronymic was Efimovna. And Semen – that was the name of her grandfather, my paternal great-grandfather.

Mother never saw her father. He was a passionate gambler and killed himself just the same year my mother was born. He was my grandmother’s first husband, and when he died, she married a singer, who sang together with Shalyapin. His name was Zakhar Matsin, and Grandmother had a double family name: Perel-Matsin. Matsin was a friend of Dvoritchin, who ‘worked’ together with Shalyapin – he was some kind of manager, and Grandmother was in this company too. But she didn’t understand anything of music, not at all. In any case, she was a curious woman, and they just had fun with her. I mean that they liked to spend time with her, to relax together and have fun.

She said that she got married at the age of sixteen. I don’t think this was true… I know that all her life she concealed her real age. Sometimes she said that she gave birth to my mother as a fourteen-year-old girl, and sometimes confessed that she was almost sixteen then. So you could never find out the truth. I think, that everything was normal, and she gave birth to her child just like the others did, as a twenty-year-old woman. So due to my grandmother’s reserved character they wrote on her grave some absolutely false dates. If you believed them, you would think that she gave birth to my mother at the age of ten, or something like that. My grandmother was buried at the Jewish cemetery called Preobrazhenskoe. My younger sister still takes care of the grave and the tomb. And the grave, though pitiful now, is preserved.

Grandmother happened to find herself in Petersburg [later Petrograd, Leningrad, today St. Petersburg] very easily. She was a doctor, a dentist, because Jews usually became dentists, or medical attendants and midwives. It seems to me, that doctors were allowed to live outside of the Pale of Settlement 6, including Petersburg. So she worked as a dentist all her life. She differed from others, because she could pull out teeth very well. And everyone knew her because of this skill. Even though she was a very small woman, she could do it deftly and without any pain. And it is remarkable that she became a dentist, a doctor, because it was quite unusual for women to become doctors!

Grandmother was an only child, which was rare for a Jewish family. Apparently, there were no ‘Jewish features’ – in the traditional meaning of this phrase – in her nature and character, she was completely Russified. She didn’t know any Yiddish, absolutely none at all. And she never wore Jewish clothes. She didn’t observe any traditions or go to the synagogue.

My mother was never told anything about her father; she and my grandmother didn’t like to talk about him. Maybe, the reason was that he played cards and lost all his fortune… They said only that he was an idler and killed himself at a very young age.

As for my father’s mother, Rebecca Kiselgof, I must say that I never saw her, because she died of tuberculosis as a young woman. My paternal grandmother was a ‘shinkarka’; she kept a ‘shinok’ [‘tavern’ in Russian] somewhere near Vitebsk [today Belarus]. That was even before the [Russian] Revolution. I know only that Grandfather Aron Kiselgof was much older than she, however, I have no idea what he was, perhaps, he was a craftsman or maybe he helped his wife to run this tavern.

I saw my paternal grandfather once in my entire life, when he came to Leningrad a long time before the Great Patriotic War 7. I don’t know where he came from, I was very little then, I was only seven or eight years old. I had just started school. I remember him quite vaguely, but, of course, he shocked me with his unusual appearance. That was a real Jew, as if he’d just stepped out of Dürer’s engravings [Dürer, Albrecht (1471-1528): famous German engraver, painter and mathematician]. He was in payes, very handsome and striking.

To tell the truth, I heard rumors that he wasn’t the real father of my father. The wife of one of my father’s brothers, Zinovy, said that my father was a bastard, and it was a big family secret. Nobody knew about it, and just before Guta Grigorievna died she told us about it, because Zinovy was dead already. Anyway, Grandfather died before the Great Patriotic War started. I know nothing about my grandfather’s brothers and sisters. But I guess they had a big family in Belarus.

I know that my father, Semen Aronovich Kiselgof, was born not far from Vitebsk, in Babinovichi [a borough in Vitebsk province], and that he was born in 1893. Father was a child, when his mother died. And his elder brother, Zinovy Kiselgof, lived in Petersburg, he was seventeen years older. So Father moved to Petersburg before the [October] Revolution, and Zinovy raised him and even replaced a father for him.

My father played the violin, he graduated from the Conservatoire with excellent grades. At home we had violins made by Amati [famous Italian violin maker of the 17th century], Father played them and I still remember him playing. He played mainly classics, he liked to play Paganini [Niccolò (1782-1840): Italian virtuoso and composer of the 19th century], and as a matter of fact he had quite a large repertoire.

My parents could have got to know each other only in Piter [common name for Petersburg]. They got to know each other after the Revolution, but they never told me when exactly they met. I know only that they knew each other not very long, only half a year, before they got married. Mother told me how he proposed to her: ‘Simocka [short and tender name for Serafima], let’s live together!’ I guess that they were from the same circle and both were very virtuous. They got married in 1921, and I don’t think that there was a wedding ceremony, either Jewish, or Russian. They just registered their relations officially, since they were very poor.

My mother was born in 1897. She graduated from a gymnasium [high school] with some medal: either gold, or silver [a distinction]. She not only told me about her school, she even showed me its building. This school was situated on Petrograd side, on Bolshoy Avenue, between Grebezkaya Street and Lev Tolstoy square. It used to be a famous gymnasium, located in a three-story house of a pale yellow color. She told me that they studied foreign languages a lot, and her friend Julia Vladimirovna Shishova spoke wonderful French, while my mother understood it, but never spoke it, because she didn’t have enough practice. At this gymnasium many girls from quite noble families studied, however, there were some Jews in their class too, and they didn’t go to Christian lessons [they taught Russian Orthodox religion in pre-revolutionary schools].

Mother grew up in the house of her stepfather, whom she hated very much. She was afraid of him so much, because he tried to molest her, even though she was just a little girl and, finally, she had to leave her home. I don’t know if her mother knew about it, maybe she guessed.

After the Revolution they proved to my father, that the winning proletariat doesn’t need any art, it needs economics instead, and so he began to learn the new profession in some of Leningrad Institute, and became an engineer/economist. That’s why he had two university degrees. But I remember that when I was ten or twelve, he still played the violin in the cinema, which was situated on Sredny Avenue of Vasilievski Island, later it housed some club named after Uritsky [a revolutionary, killed in Petrograd in 1918], and today the Theater of Satire is situated there. Probably, he studied at some extra-mural courses, and then he began to work at ‘Mechanobr’ [big factory in Leningrad]. He didn’t play the violin any more and worked as an engineer five or six years before World War II started.

My mother was absolutely non-musical, she didn’t have a good ear for music, and I’m just the same. But I inherited the love for music from my father. At home he played frequently, and my mother didn’t ever protest. But when my mother started to rock the children to sleep, he always shouted: ‘Sima, don’t sing!’ She sang completely wrong, out of tune.

There was nothing Jewish in my father’s character, and probably due to this reason his relatives thought that his father wasn’t Jewish. I can’t guarantee this for sure, and, to be honest, it is none of my business; I’m absolutely indifferent to this fact. Father was very silent, shy, and he loved fishing. As a matter of fact, he was quite a handsome man, women liked him, but he wasn’t a playboy, and didn’t pay attention to them. As a father, he was very tender; he pampered my younger sisters and had wonderful relations with my mother. Mother was very clever, a very reserved and closed person. And, just like Dad, she was unjust: she could love unworthy people, but without any reason, without any explanation, for example she didn’t like my friend, and that was it. She had unreasonable loves and affections.

Mother taught Russian and literature. She graduated from the History and Philology Faculty of Leningrad University, she studied after the Revolution, and she finished her studies when I was little. Mother was a teacher her entire life, first, it seems to me, in a regular school, and later only in an evening one.

Mother did everything very diligently. When she started to do something, she learned very diligently and studied this new issue for a while, and then, finally, she could do it! Anyway, she was one of those people, who have ‘bad hands.’ She couldn’t sew; she poked the needle wherever it was possible. And Father, on the contrary, was very practical, despite the fact that he was a musician. So my mother never learned to sew and darn.

She couldn’t choose the right clothes, although she was such a beauty! She considered this beauty her great misfortune. Her stepfather’s advances made such a strong impression, influenced her so much, that she was afraid of men, and thought that beauty was a sin, and after all she tried to convince me that I was ugly, because she didn’t want me to repeat her life. Of course, I wasn’t ugly, on the contrary, I was a very nice girl.

Mother was an only child, and Father had a brother and a sister. Father’s sister Elizabeth lived near Vitebsk, in Babinovichi. She was easy-going and liked to talk, she was very nice and had a wonderful voice, she sang very well. I saw her, because she came to visit her brothers in Leningrad – I think, she came twice or even three times. She was a doctor, and her husband was a doctor too, and they didn’t have children. They were religious people, Elizabeth sang Jewish songs, tried to keep kosher and observed Sabbath. I guess, they celebrated holidays and, perhaps, prayed everyday. 

My father’s brother, Zinovy Kiselgof, in his youth played concertino and was busy with social work. My uncle was a member of the Bund 8, the organization, which became the base for the Communist Party. He lived in Petersburg almost his entire life, and I can’t guess, why the authorities let him live here, why they didn’t forbid that. After the Revolution he was headmaster of a Jewish boarding school on the Tenth line of Vasilievski Island. There they taught not only orphans, but also those, who didn’t live there and came to study only, because it was quite a famous school. Uncle, of course, wasn’t a Zionist in the real meaning of this word, he didn’t dream about the establishment of the Jewish State, but he supported the propaganda of Jewish culture. He lived in the school building; he had two rooms and a kitchen, where children were not allowed.

Uncle was married to sisters, Jewish sisters, naturally. And that happened due to the following reason: according to Jewish traditions, you can’t marry the younger sister, if the elder one isn’t married yet. So as a matter of fact he married the younger one, Rebecca, and officially he was registered with the elder sister, Guta Grigorievna. And then the younger sister died, and he stayed to live with the elder one.

They had a daughter, she was called Rosa, and she was mentally disabled. She had a nice childish face, but despite of this, she was a complete fool, she frequently sat and sorted cereals. She didn’t live very long; she died at the age of eighteen. And the younger sister, the beautiful one, gave birth to another daughter: Ludmila – Jewish name Lea. She was normal, but very pampered and full of feeling of self-appreciation, and all her life she was busy in the field of social work only. 

First my parents lived on the Petrogradskaya side, on Grebetskaya Street, and there I was born. We lived there all together: me, Dad, Mom and Granny. Later my great-grandmother came to live with us too. But in 1924, when I was two and when the flood [the very last famous flood in the city, many inhabitants and buildings suffered from it] happened, we moved to Vasilievski Island. I remember this flood very well. I wasn’t frightened, but we ran home – together with Mom or the baby-sitter – we found out that we were the last ones. On our gates there were such chains, and the ‘dvornik’ [the man, who takes care of the yard] closed them the moment we arrived.

Anyway, this flat on the Petrogradskaya side was quite dark, and in 1924 we moved to the house on the corner of Siezdovskaya line and Sredny Avenue. Later there was a café on the first floor of this building for a long time, and above this café you could see the balcony, where I spent my entire youth. We lived in a huge communal apartment 9; as a matter of fact, those were two flats with different entrances, only the kitchen and the corridor were common. There was a very interesting staircase. This building was built at the end of the 18th century, and the stairs were built in the wall, almost as in ancient Orthodox churches, there were no stairwells. The stairs led to the gallery, paved with stone blocks just like the street. We also had huge windows, looking over the yard. When you stood on the third floor of this gallery, the angel from the Church of Saint Catherine [one of the oldest Catholic churches in Russia] seemed to be very near. I remember this angel with the cross from my early childhood.

We had three rooms. One of them was huge, something like thirty square meters. And the only entrance to the room, where I lived together with my sisters – it was about eighteen square meters – was from this huge first room. There was also a small room, my parents’ bedroom. Their windows went straight out on Sredny Avenue and there was a wonderful view out of those windows of the city, roofs of the buildings and the Neva River. The apartment was a very good one; my parents chose it on their own: in those times the authorities gave apartments for free. And Father liked this particular one. My granny lived in the large room; her part was separated off with shelves. She had her own place, and she didn’t let anybody in.

In the same apartment a worker’s family lived together with us. I don’t remember their family name, but I know that they all were sick with tuberculosis. And in some small room there lived Sonya Krivoshey, a former student of Zinovy Aronovich. She wasn’t quite normal [mentally], but she was very kind, and even during the blockade [of Leningrad] she was the only one, who gave her food to others. Finally she died of hunger.

Grandmother never invited her friends, and my great-grandmother didn’t either. Father’s male friends were not seen at our place either. Therefore my mother had friends over; her best friends were a Russian woman and a Jewish woman. They studied together with my mother in gymnasium, and later they frequently came to visit us. This Jewish woman lived in Moscow; her name was Frieda Davidovna Chernomordikova. In times of Lenin 10 she was the secretary in Smolny [building of Smolny Institute for noble girls, where during the Revolution the Bolshevik headquarters was located], and later she became a guide and a secretary of Shelgunov [one of the oldest members of the Communist Party], the blind Bolshevik. Frieda lived her entire life together with her brother and his family. She was a surprisingly kind person, she was very clever and kind, but she wasn’t used to everyday life. When she was old, she switched the primus [stove] on according to written instructions only. ‘Genya, where is my instruction?’ Genya, her brother, brought the instruction; she opened the paper, put on the glasses and began to read… The second friend, Julia, was a bit less intelligent, even though she was from a noble family. She washed me and was my tutor when I was a child and later she raised me. 

Childhood

I was born in Leningrad on 20th March 1922. My parents first wanted to name me Rebecca after my grandmother [Father’s mother], but Mother said, ‘No, that isn’t a nice name, and there is no need to stress her Jewish nationality’ 11. So they decided to name me Rita, this wasn’t short for Margarita, this was the full name. And then for a while I had to explain to everyone that I’m only Rita, nothing more. My parents read this name in one of Ibsen’s 12 plays.

I went to the kindergarten, and this is the most terrifying memory of my childhood, that was such a horror! I was extremely shy, absolutely asocial, and I was afraid of my German teacher. As a result, I spoke German as well as Russian, absolutely fluently, but I cried, asked not to be left alone with her and sat in the corner, being angry, so my parents preferred to get me out of this kindergarten. Since this time they employed numerous baby-sitters. There were plenty of them, and they were changing all the time. Grandmother didn’t pay any attention to our upbringing, she continued both to work and participate in social activities. My parents worked a lot too, and to tell the truth, nobody raised me.

Among our amusements I remember how we drove ‘veikas.’ ‘Veiky’ are horses during the Pancake week, there is such a Russian tradition, more heathen than Russian Orthodox, and some ribbons were put into the horses’ manes. All that took place when I was a little girl.

I went to school at the age of eight, and I went to the Jewish school for three long years. They made fun of me there, because I was dressed awfully. The point was not that my parents had a bad taste or were poor. We were not a poor family. Mother worked two jobs, and Father earned money too, we had housekeepers, and we ate well, and it was quite cozy at home. We never had anything splendid, didn’t go to Torgsin stores 13, but we lived quite well. Of course, we borrowed money, everyone did, and sometimes the money was gone before the salary was paid, but it was so usual for those times that nobody was shocked by it.

No, the point was that my mother considered me very beautiful, however she always said that I wasn’t, she even called me ‘my ugly one’ or something like that. So they dressed me with the purpose to hide this beauty in some striped or checked trousers, and, coming to school, I hid them. There was a staircase, and near this staircase stood a trunk, under the stairs, but not close to the wall. I put those trousers far behind this trunk, so nobody could see them. And I remember this horror very well. And after all I was someone, who ‘came in’ and didn’t live with these pupils all the time. I mean they were staying there all the time and had a chance to make friends while I was coming from time to time only, and, perhaps, they were jealous of me because I had a family and home, and most of them were orphans.

Besides, I was the niece of Zinovy Aronovich, and his students were afraid of him to death, because he was a very strict and severe teacher. Everybody ate together, and I, as someone with privileges, was sent to the kitchen, where his wife fed me, not Rebecca, who never could do anything, but the other one [Guta], who was a very skillful housewife, she also tried to raise me. I was afraid both of this feeding and teaching, it was necessary to eat everything, and I couldn’t, and finally, when I came back from this kitchen, students would make fun of me and laugh.

At school we all studied Yiddish, and somehow all pupils spoke Russian with very strong Yiddish accents. So my parents decided that it would be hard for me to live in the USSR if I spoke with an accent. This was no good! And they transferred me to another school, on the Fifth line of Vasilievski Island. It was the former famous gymnasium Schaffe, they taught German over there, and since I spoke with a strong Yiddish accent, the German teacher hated me. I got bad grades for German, even though I knew this language no worse than my classmates. Then this German teacher left, and another one came and she started to give me excellent grades and called me the ‘tail of a comet,’ meaning that I was at the tail, in the shadow of the best pupils. Finally this was the school where I graduated from.

At school we learned Russian, Literature, Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry, German and Geography. There we had even Astronomy lessons and our astronomy teacher was Maria Abramovna Linnik, a Jew. Her husband was a world-famous scientist, academician, and their daughter studied in our grade too. I was friends with her for a while, I’ve been to their place, and later she helped me to find a job at the Hermitage. Then History was my favorite subject. Our history teacher was Olga Grigorievna, she had graduated from the Sorbonne [Paris University] long ago, she was an intellectual woman, and her origins were among Petersburg pre-revolutionary noblemen. She taught in a very interesting way, very well. For a while I was friends with her daughter Tatiana, even though it was more competition than usual friendship.  

I also had a very good friend called Irina [Ludvigovna Knaut], but Tatiana for no reason became jealous about this friendship and started to break us up. And finally she succeeded, and we didn’t communicate for many years. By the way, Irina later took care of our history teacher, Tatiana’s mother, when she became old and sick. And it took for her quite a while to understand who Tatiana was, what she was. And I understood it much earlier and stopped any relations with her.

Apparently, I had many friends, I even had a boyfriend in the tenth grade [last grade in Soviet school], Alexander Guriev, nowadays he looks very old. And even though I was very unsociable, I had to communicate on some business and friendships started. I had the nickname ‘the ambulance’; maybe I had many friends due to this reason. I didn’t pay any attention, if they were Jews or not. I didn’t even think about this question, and I had no interest in this topic.

In my free time I read. Read, read, read… And now I continue to do the same, thank God, I still have good eyes. Father didn’t read too much, and Mother was keen on reading. She read more because of her job, mostly Russian classics, and she was a good teacher, very methodical and pedantic. As for me, I liked Dickens most of all, and my favorite book was ‘The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby.’ When I was reading this book, I decided that my husband should be called Nicholas too. So it happened. I also liked Mayne Reid, Jules Verne, and I read a lot about various adventures. I didn’t like love stories; they even made me angry.

I wanted to study music very much, but my dad didn’t want that. He said, ‘Your ears aren’t good enough for music.’ Even though I’m able to distinguish human voices, I can distinguish the play of one violinist from the play of another, and I can even differentiate between some conductors, which I know well. Anyway, obviously I have an interest in music and I get strong emotional impressions from the music I listen to. In my childhood, when guests came to visit – and at home they loved to celebrate children’s birthdays – Father amazed the children, he played the violin for us, and I remember us dancing, accompanied by his playing.

When I studied at school, I danced very well. I had been naturally given grace, I had good proportions, and my uncle wished to make a ballerina out of me. So he tried to prove to my father that I was very small, very light, but Father insisted on his own point of view. Dad thought that the winning proletariat needs economics, and he, the violin player, isn’t needed, so I won’t be needed, as a ballerina. Later the same uncle decided that I should be a writer and a poet. Who didn’t write poems, being young? I did too. So my parents tried to convince me to apply for philology, and I was keen on history, perhaps, not history itself, but archeology. I was interested in excavations, so-called ‘field work.’ When I was in the fifth grade, my parents put me in the group of art lovers, attached to the Hermitage. And till the last grade I participated in this group, and I had well-seen love for the theory of art, but since I thought this subject didn’t have any perspectives at all, I finally chose archeological studies.

It seems to me, that I was a pioneer 14. And I was a Young Octobrist 15 too. However, I never went to pioneer camps! I was too independent, they called me ‘down with the power of the parents.’ My parents first raised me so I wouldn’t think that I was nice, and then they started to push me, trying to change my strong character. I had my own friends and my own views; I knew what was good and what was bad. And when they noticed that they couldn’t influence me, they just let the things go in the way they were supposed to go.

We had splendid vacations. Those were the best memories of my childhood. Near Luga [small town 180 kilometers south of Leningrad] there is a railway station, formerly called Preobrazhenskoe, today it is called Tolmachevo. It’s paradise there. You can breathe wonderful air there, and I haven’t seen such beauty anywhere else. So frequently, from year to year, as long as I can remember, we rented a dacha 16 there. I remember that we went there by train. There was some steam, and all that… The train was very loud. And also I remember how the owner met us at the station with the horse, riding a ‘brichka’ [kind of cab], which they used before the trams ever appeared, with two wheels and some cover. So he met us and rode eighteen kilometers to the village called Bolshie Izori. Ships crossed the Oredeg River; in those times it was a wide and beautiful river.

Our preparation for our time at the dacha was a separate point; this was something really sacred. We took food, a full case of cereals, all that was packed, and Father participated too, it would have been impossible with no men, and finally we left solemnly. For us, the children, it was something special, and we grew up in this village. We left just after the school vacations had begun. Mother had two months vacations [teachers in the USSR had longer vacations than all other civil servants]; she went there together with us. Father was interested only in fishing, and he didn’t want anything else in his life. He asked for vacations, and when he didn’t have such a possibility, he came for the weekend only, and walked eighteen kilometers on foot, I remember that once I ran all those kilometers very fast together with him, he was even surprised, but it happened when I was an adult and we were late for the train. I was seventeen then, I think.

I have two sisters. One of them, Galina, is five years younger than me, she was born on 24th February 1927, and the second one, Irina, was born in 1938, when our mother was forty-two. I remember that I was studying in the tenth grade, and they called me out of lessons, because my sister Irina was born, and I wasn’t happy about it. When Galina was born, I asked my parents to take her away, to take her back. They named one of my sisters after some woman called Galina, whom my father liked, as a young man – maybe, he had some secret love story, I don’t know exactly – and why they named my second sister Irina, I have no idea. My sisters went to another school, which was situated on Volkhovskoy Road.

Compared to me, my sisters were married many times. Galina was married twice, and Irina is married for the third time now. Her first husband was Russian, and the second one was a Jew, a real Jew, a nationalist. And Galina’s second husband was a Jew too, and the first one was Russian. Galina became a Math teacher, and Irina is an engineer. Galina always had an idée fixe that she is better than all other people around, that she deserves a better life than she has, that everybody is an ungrateful pig and that when she was born, humanity got something gorgeous. Anyway, we don’t get on well; we can’t communicate in a normal way, we even can’t say ‘hello’ to each other, feeling friendly. Galina also is making up stories all the time; she is a person you can’t believe. Fortunately, my relations with Irina are much better; nevertheless we don’t see each other too often. Galina has two daughters – and grandchildren and great-grandchildren too, while Irina gave birth to two sons, who have their children too.

Attitude to judaism

Our family was absolutely non-religious. Only my great-grandmother prayed, but even she didn’t go to the synagogue, the synagogue was closed, and it was impossible to go there 17. I can’t say that my father was completely, totally Russified, because he was under a very strong influence of his brother Zinovy and in some sense Zinovy was a Zionist. But even though Father had some kind of national identity, he, as well as my mother, was an atheist. They never observed Jewish traditions or celebrated holidays, not at all. They would clean the house and wash the floors on Saturdays! They never spoke Yiddish or Hebrew. They spoke only Russian, and, after all, Mother taught Russian and Literature.

There was the following situation. In some families they spoke Yiddish, observed traditions, but nobody talked about nationality until 1936-1937. However, in the 1930s the authorities suddenly recalled that there is such a nationality, not a completely normal one, but they didn’t bother anybody, didn’t discharge people for being Jewish. During the Great Patriotic War there was no Jewish question, but, to tell the truth, in those times the slogan ‘Beat the Yids [kikes]’ appeared, and children started to make fun of their Jewish mates. However, when I was a little girl, I felt nothing like that, there was no anti-Semitism.

Jews were separated into two groups: some forgot that they were Jewish, since it didn’t play any important role in everyday life, and others remembered that they were Jewish. And that could be seen in statements such as: ‘He plays the violin well, that means that he is Jewish,’ or ‘He is a great mathematician, that means he is a Jew.’ In our family we didn’t have such attitudes, even though Zinovy Aronovich liked such things, and liked them very much. However, it wasn’t vulgar, he did it elegantly, and there existed some families, where it was awful, even horrible, this emphasis. I knew such families. In my opinion, it is just the same as anti-Semitism. And it aroused the same emotions.

There were such Jewish families before the Great Patriotic War, and when the Doctors’ Plot 18 started, and the troubles began, the number of those families only increased. In the 1950s there were a lot of families, where they said that Jews were the best, and that they were God’s Chosen People, that they made the [October] Revolution, and that’s the only reason to like this Revolution. I knew a lot of people saying: ‘Bolsheviks organized the [October] Revolution, and Bolsheviks were mainly Jews, that’s why this Revolution is a good one.’ Those people annoyed me so much! 

I don’t remember any anti-Semitic incidents at school. After all, I don’t look Jewish. My sister Galina looked Jewish, but she didn’t suffer from anti-Semitism either. But in the queues people often addressed me and tried to develop the theme of ‘how awful Jews are.’ Usually people thought that I was Russian, not Jewish, I can’t even guess why. Sometimes it happened so: a Russian woman stands nearby, she has an absolutely Russian face, and somebody tells me: ‘Look, this is a kike.’ And I found myself in such situations quite often, even now the same thing happens sometimes. Since the times of horrible Socialism this thing has stayed and we can’t get rid of it at all.

Life under the communist regime

We didn’t ever discuss Hitler’s coming to power in 1933 19. I don’t know if they liked Stalin at home, but all political conversations at home were stopped the same moment they started. Mother was very timid in this sphere, she was afraid of everything, and my father was very silent and never talked. Neither of them joined the Communist Party. And as for me, I talked about politics a lot with my school friend Irina and her boyfriend, whom she had a bright love story with. He was much older than her; Irina and I both were sixteen. Later, in 1938 he was arrested for some anti-Soviet poems and because he was a dissident. Finally they exiled him 20, he was a prisoner for five years, or even less and then he married some local girl from Siberia – or wherever he was. He wrote Irina tender letters, explaining he had to marry, but I think she never forgave him.

In 1937 the Soviet authorities arrested my uncle Zinovy. They arrested him due to the reason that he was an ‘active participant of the Bund.’ They arrested him and held him for eleven months, demanding to name other people, who were members of the Bund. So they let him out with broken bones and damaged lungs. He came to us, because during the arrest they broke everything in his apartment. About two weeks later he died, and then local authorities closed his Jewish school, because in 1937 no Jewish school could exist any more.

At first I didn’t have any doubts about what was going on, I didn’t doubt that all this was right and all right, about the science of great ‘Lenin, Marx, Engels, Stalin.’ I was a clever girl, and the History teacher always liked me, I always understood what I was talking about and she recommended me to Komsomol 21. And just before I was supposed to join the Komsomol, the authorities arrested my uncle. And they wanted me to say during the joining procedure that I didn’t consider my uncle my relative any more, and that we weren’t friends, and had no connections, and that I refused to be his niece. I replied, ‘Why should I believe you, not him. I’ve known him for a while, for my entire life, know him as a sincere Communist, and now I have to denounce him only because you tell me to do so. I will not!’ Then they said, ‘We won’t let you join the Komsomol.’ And I said, ‘Fine, I don’t need it.’

Later they let my uncle out, and proposed me to join the Komsomol again. And I said then, ‘I don’t want to. I will not join it.’ My parents had a hysterical fit. And they explained all that with my friendship with my pal Irina and her lover, with their influence. But ‘down with the power of parents’ insisted in my own opinion and I didn’t join the Komsomol.

In the pre-war years Mother was always afraid, and she had all reasons to be frightened. Just at the time they arrested my uncle, her student from the school for adults, Nina Knyazeva, started to take additional lessons. This Nina suddenly fell down and said, ‘Please take the medicine out of my pocket.’ And when they tried to take out her medicine, they found either my father’s photo, or some red notebook. It seems to me that those fainting fits were fake: she wanted only that somebody would take things out of her pocket. At first they thought that she carried my father’s photo because she liked him. But what did she carry my uncle’s photo for? So, it was more likely that she wanted to show that she collected information, that she was a spy, that it was necessary to be polite to her, otherwise she would inform on us, and Father would be arrested too. And that was an awful horror at home, in our family. Everyone was frightened, my parents didn’t fight or argue, but my mother was such a coward, so she panicked and was afraid of talking and so on…

My parents pushed me to enter the Philology Faculty. They said that I was a poet, I was a writer, and I didn’t want such a career, not at all. Finally I applied for philology [all those events took place in 1939]; passed the exams, even though before the war it was hard to apply too, because they started to pay attention to your nationality. I finished school with all excellent grades, so I didn’t have to go in for an interview; I automatically passed because I had excellent grades. Then the war started, they called up the boys [Rita means total mobilization] and I was transferred to the History Faculty, where many places were vacant. I transferred from the Philology Faculty, where we had an awful competition, to the History Department, where they didn’t have any competition at all. So finally I did what I always wanted to do.

During the war

We met the beginning of the war [22nd June 1941] near Luga, at our dacha. Father went as a volunteer to the Leningrad Home Guard at the beginning of summer; he was in a partisan unit, which acted in the so-called ‘Oranienbaum corner.’ This unit was bombed completely, and only two people stayed alive: my father and the head of their unit, Korablev. Father took the injured Korablev, carried him to Leningrad, which was under the blockade. Those events took place in October or November of 1941.

So Korablev survived, and not long ago, walking my dog, I met a woman, who lived in the nearby house and walked her dog too. She is an open person, an easy-going woman, so she started to talk about her father and mentioned that he used to be a head of the partisan unit. Finally, I found out that her father was that certain Korablev, whom my father saved. Later we became very close friends. She even saved my life, when my dog died and I was in a very deep depression. Some time ago she became a nun.

I remember that when Father came back to blockaded Leningrad – we came back from Luga at the very beginning of July – we went to find ‘tyapki’ together. On the outskirts of the city, which the Germans hadn’t reached yet, some kitchen gardens were preserved, and the harvest, not taken away, was still there. And I have no idea why, but some cabbage roots were left in the earth, they were called ‘tyapki.’ Our trip took place at the beginning of November, the roots were frozen, and people collected them and then ate them.

Besides, reading somebody’s memories of the blockade, I notice that people lie a lot. They lie so much, that it is really surprising. Nobody, for example, remembers the soup, made out of yeast, and that was the main food. For some reason in Leningrad there happened to be a lot of yeast, and they made soup out of yeast and served it in cafes and all kinds of diners. As for eating dogs and cats, I can’t recall such facts: I think they died a long time before anybody could have decided to eat them.

My father died of starvation on 18th January 1942; he was only 49. Before he died he understood what was going on in his country, he understood everything and about ten minutes before his death he pronounced, ‘Shame on me, I was an idiot!’ Two weeks after my father died, my great-grandmother died too. She was 86. Father was buried in a coffin in the common grave in Smolensky cemetery, where they buried people in the first year of the Leningrad Blockade. We took his dead body to the cemetery and asked some gravediggers to bury him first; we gave them some bread I think. However, we didn’t wait for his funeral, because it could take three or five days, and we were very weak. And as for my great-grandmother we drove her dead body on the sledges to the morgue and left her there.

I stayed in Leningrad together with my mother and sisters till March 1942. I built defenses and stood on the roof, when Germans threw bombs down. I even have a medal for ‘Defending Leningrad.’ I also studied at university. When I transferred to the History Faculty, my studies became very interesting and I made a couple of friends. That was the second year and during the blockade we continued to go to lectures. From home I went to the university on foot, passing small and narrow roads and ways. The building of the History Faculty used to be a big store, a selling court, and under the arches numerous dead bodies lay in straight rows. And I remember that I even stumbled on people, still alive, who fell and couldn’t rise. I fell down once too, but somebody was going to the lecture and helped me to get up.

I felt total indifference towards everything. I didn’t even know why I continued to go to lectures, but I remember that Professor Tolstov read ancient Russian literature, and when we arrived – we were four girls – he said, ‘Well, my Lomonosovs [Lomonosov was a famous Russian scientist of the 18th century], let’s start.’ I suppose that those certain lectures helped me to survive: they advised us to lie down and preserve our energy, but this wasn’t right. It was necessary to move, to do something, to make something, and only such things, such behavior could save you. Passive waiting and thoughts about food – that was the real way to death.

First Nina Knyazeva, this girl, who fell down and was considered a spy, wanted to evacuate us. She announced that she would take us away from Leningrad, asked if I knew how to use a parachute and jump with it, even though she knew very well that I’d never seen a parachute in my entire life.

Later Mother exchanged Father’s violins for bread, and sold some of the things we had to unknown people. They took some paintings, and a sofa, because it was some rare furniture. We had plenty of paintings at home, because during the Revolution Father bought those paintings, which the proletariat was supposed to cut into small parts. We had even Kustodiev’s works [famous Russian artist, known for his paintings of merchants’ everyday life]. They collected all that and took it away, and then they didn’t come back. Mother, of course, was grief-stricken, but then we found out that it was our luck. Those people loaded people together with their stuff in one car, and took them on the ice of Lake Ladoga , and there the car turned out to be ‘broken.’ They took the things and furniture and left the people on the ice. So we were lucky not to die there.

We were evacuated in March 1942 on the Road of Life 22. We all left together, a large group of relatives: me, my mother, sisters, grandmother, Zinovy Aronovich’s daughter and a cousin of Mother’s father, Nina Lvovna Perel. She was a friend of my mother, they had good relations. Her brother had dated my mother, but my Mom didn’t want to marry him because she didn’t want what she considered incest. This Nina Lvovna was married to her cousin or some other relative, that’s why she didn’t have children, she was afraid of giving birth to ugly beings. On the way Nina Lvovna got spotted typhus, and they took her from the train in Sverdlovsk [big city in Ural, today Ekaterinburg], where her brother Semen lived – soon she died there.

We continued on our way and finally arrived at the station Inskaya, where there was a separator and where they offered necessary support to hungry people, coming from blockaded Leningrad. There they tried to feed us very little and very seldom so we could get used to food. Half of us died on the way: they got a ration 23 just when we passed the station Kabona. This ration included a cookie – one half was ordinary and the other one made out of chocolate – black bread, and a piece of sausage. And no one said we shouldn’t eat all this food at once, we had to divide it into small parts and eat the small pieces only, otherwise our stomachs couldn’t take it. I was lucky: I ate only the cookie, and didn’t have any stomach troubles. Then we all had this spotted typhus: Mother, Grandmother, Ludmila, I, little Galina, and even four-year-old Irina. However, I didn’t suffer and got healthy very soon. So did all my relatives, none was sick too long.

In Inskaya they started to divide us and direct us for work, and we happened to find ourselves in Ust-Tarka [small town in South-West Siberia, on the Om River], which is situated not far from Tatarsk [town in Siberia, 150 kilometers from Omsk]. They needed teachers over there, and we went to this place. On the way Grandmother got appendicitis, and when we arrived in Ust-Tarka, naturally, we called for a doctor. Doctor Karl Rottermel was a German, who was arrested and banished to Siberia because of his nationality. He rode a horse on his own and took my grandmother to the hospital, which was 30 kilometers away. There he performed the operation and sewed with ordinary threads, because he didn’t have the surgical ones. Later he took my grandmother back and took care of her together with his wife. Granny survived and in evacuation she worked as a dentist too. She was still full of energy. She died in Leningrad, after they came back from evacuation, in 1946, from cancer. She was buried at the Jewish cemetery.

Mother worked at school, and we lived near this school, in a special separate room. Mother bought a cow and a place to keep this cow, and one teacher who was courting her, taught her to milk it, and step by step she learned how to get the milk. We had our own food, and we weren’t hungry. I worked in Zagotskot [government economic agency for the provision of meat], where they prepared the meat, I was a bookkeeper. Their office was situated on another embankment; it was necessary to cross the river Om. The river was very wide, and there were no bridges. There was only a rope, and under this rope there was a boat, which wasn’t fastened. You sit in this boat and, pulling this rope with your hands, go to the other bank. When the water was high, this rope went into the water, and when the weather was dry, you had to stand on your tiptoes on the bench of this boat to touch the rope. As I was a very small girl, of course, all this was pretty hard to do. But I had to go to the other bank. And in winter I had to cross the frozen river, covered with ice. It was more than three kilometers of walk.

Life was very interesting. Siberians have a very unusual character, and that was a new experience for me. For example, there I rode cows and bulls, and those bulls understood only slang, only so-called rude words. They would never react to usual words and demands. And Siberian rude words were completely weird from our point of view. Finally I found out that rude words in Siberia were the necessary part of everyday language, even the main part of it, but if you said ‘damn!’ for example, they would look at you like you did something wrong. So I had to learn it quite quickly. Also they are brave and somewhat naive people, straight-minded, but very creative. Most of them seemed to be easy-going and nice people. 

A bookkeeper, a former front-man, whom I worked with, was a very clever and unusual person. Once he saved me: I happened to get into a snowstorm and fell into the river, and I lost my keys from the cash-desk. And if he hadn’t helped me, if he hadn’t secretly ordered another set of keys, I would have been put on trial and sent to jail. So I have very good memories of this person. But finally his wife got jealous of me, and his daughter wanted to kill me. So somebody advised me that if I wanted to stay alive, I’d better leave. So I had to go. I decided to go to university [Leningrad University was situated in Saratov, it was in evacuation too]. All that happened at the beginning of 1943.

Among the school teachers there was a wounded man, who came from the front. So I went together with him, acting like I was his wife – even though I didn’t intend to marry him – because it was safer like that. It was very hard to find a train, because you couldn’t buy a ticket or whatever you needed, and for those, who were demobilized it was much easier. I went with him to Saratov [big town in Volga region, was situated far away from the frontline], there he announced that he was together with his wife, because he wanted to get a separate room, and he got what he wanted. And I ran away to the campus, to my university friend, and we slept in one bed.

By the way somebody stole my passport, so I didn’t have any documents, I was alone, I had myself only. But finally I made all the necessary documents. They needed a passport girl, who was responsible for placing people into the campus. And I just came. And my pal shouts: ‘Look, she is my wife.’ So I made up the list of those, who were supposed to be placed into this campus building and put my name there too. I have such a family name that it is hard to understand if it is male or female [in Russian the family name Kiselgof doesn’t have a gender, unlike most other surnames]. So I brought this list to the passport girl, and she stamped them: ‘registered,’ and didn’t compare them to real passports. So she stamped all the passports and then took a list, which I made, and stamped it too, and I was included in that list too, of course. She asked only, ‘Did you show me the passport of this guy, Kiselgof.’ And I replied, ‘Of course, I showed it.’ So now I had the registration 24, and if you had the registration, you could get a new passport.

I studied in Saratov till 1944. I was writing letters to my relatives, they wrote me too, but Mom never supported me – while she sent money or food to Galina, who was studying at the Institute of Optics and Mechanic, which was evacuated to some town in Volga, I don’t remember which one exactly.

Then the university was re-evacuated, and I was evacuated too, together with my class. In Leningrad I had no place to live, so I moved to the campus building on Mytninskaya Street. But I couldn’t stay there for a long time, because people drank a lot over there, there was such a mess, and I didn’t like such things from my very childhood. They finished by taking their clothes off, and running, all naked, with fox tails on their backs, obviously they thought it was fun. But I didn’t; it was something weird for me. I’d rather read a book, or listen to music.

I couldn’t go back to our apartment, because it wasn’t empty, somebody occupied it. All our furniture was taken out and given to the ‘dvornik.’ So for a while I lived at my school friend Irina’s, till our friend Tatiana made us argue. Then I met the mother of my ex-fiancé Alexander, Vera Alexeevna Gurieva, and she offered me to live together with her. She had only an eight-square-meter room in a communal apartment in the building, standing just near our house. So we lived together. My school teacher, Linnik, gave us some wood to warm it up.

Alexander was fighting during the war, he was taken prisoner, they told me that he was killed, but I didn’t tell his mother. She had got a notification that he was just lost and didn’t send any information about him to his military unit. Anyway, Alexander came back in a couple of years, he said that after he had been taken prisoner, the Soviet authorities put him in jail too, and he worked as a coalman. There he got married. We still have very friendly, warm relations, we are almost like relatives, and it was him, who turned my attention to music, he made a music lover out of me. And he became a geologist under the influence of my husband.

During the war not only my great-grandmother and father died, but also Father’s sister Elizabeth together with her husband. The place, where they lived [Babinovichi], happened to be occupied by the Fascists. And I heard different stories about what took place over there, somebody told me that the Germans murdered them horribly, tied them to the trees and tormented them. I listened to the radio, and there was information about something like that, but I couldn’t understand if it concerned my aunt or not, because they said the name of the place and said that Fascists murdered a doctor assistant and his wife, but didn’t mention any family names. Anyway, after the war was over, I never heard of them, or of this place, and it seems to me, there is no village called Babinovichi on the map any more. [Editor’s note: According to the contemporary maps of Vitebsk region, the village of Babinovichi doesn’t exist any more.]

After the war

In 1945 besides studying I was working. Then the rector of Leningrad University was a certain Mr. Vosnesensky and he liked all kinds of pomp, and they announced on the local radio that university students repaired destroyed buildings. Really, we shoveled the fragments, sometimes we found hands, legs, even heads sometimes, and repaired the houses, and I was a plasterer of a very high qualification.

The mother of Alexander Guriev introduced me to her pal Nicolas Razumovsky, whom I married a bit later. He was much older than me, and I know that my own mother got to know him, when I wasn’t even born yet. So Vera Alexeevna introduced him as the only man among her male friends, whom she wasn’t in love with. He started to court me, we talked a lot, and apparently those were more friends’ than lover’s relations. But Guriev’s mother didn’t like it, she decided that I was young and he was old, and that was no good. Anyway, she didn’t say anything, but the jokes and conversations started.

Suddenly I met Nina Knyazeva, who offered me to live at hers, on the corner of Nevsky and Liteiny Avenues, in the house, where the famous perfume store ‘Siren’ is located, on the fifth floor. She earned money due to speculation; somebody brought her butter and yeast from Mordovia [autonomous republic in Volga region], and she sold it and didn’t suffer from hunger. So I lived at hers for a while, and Nicolas came to visit me over there too.

Nicolas was born in Vyatka [big town in Middle Volga region]; he studied in Kazan [big town on Volga, capital of Tatarstan]. He graduated from Gorny Institute, and taught there, while being a student. He discovered a couple deposits of copper. In pre-war times Nicolas was a professor, and during World War II he was evacuated to Sverdlovsk and worked at some secret factory.

We decided to marry; the marriage took place on the same day, when Berlin was captured, on 2nd May 1945. Just after this event I moved in with my husband. He came to Leningrad with the Gorny Institute, he was a professor then. For two years we lived on the campus on Maly Avenue, my son was born there. Then we got an apartment on the Fifteenth Line, where thereafter our common family life took place.

My relatives only came back from Siberia in 1946; I even had a chance to go there to visit them. They came back to the same apartment, but only to one room. Before the war they had three rooms, but now they got only one, so they had to live there. Mother didn’t work after the war. She didn’t marry again, despite the fact that she was very beautiful even at 60, and men were courting her. At the end of her life she became crazy: 20 years of ordinary schizophrenia, and then sclerosis too. This was very long and terrifying. She lived then at my middle sister’s, who was married already and lived in Leningrad, on Varshavskaya Street. My younger sister didn’t want to stay with her, and so my middle sister took in our mother. She died in 1993. When she became crazy, she called some unknown male names. Perhaps, she had had some life dramas. Mother died at the age of 96. She was buried at a Russian cemetery, called the Nothern cemetery.

I graduated from the History Faculty of Leningrad University in 1946, and I didn’t work for two years, because they wouldn’t take Jews for a job [cf. Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’ 25]. I had a work assignment 26 for the Hermitage, but first I was pregnant, then I had maternity leave, because I gave birth to a child, and when it was over, they didn’t let me work at the Hermitage. Since my husband was a professor, he didn’t want me to work, he desired me to baby-sit our son, but I didn’t like doing this. So I found a part-time job in the City Guide Bureau and I had to guide excursions to Kunstkamera [the oldest Museum in Russia, was founded by Peter the Great as a ‘museum of surprises’], but it didn’t last too long.

In 1951 they discharged all Jewish staff at once. They explained it with ‘decreasing the quantity of staff,’ and they dismissed 18 persons. Among those, who were employed in Kunstkamera, they dismissed three people: me, Emil Evseitch Fradkin and one young woman with the family name Dushkevich. Before this discharging it was necessary to complete different papers and documents, proving that we were the worst in the entire museum.

So the non-stop auditions began. They wanted to test me on the subject ‘Origin of man,’ which was the most difficult topic; they chose it on purpose. The head of the department, Professor Ekimov, tested me on his own and only a wonder saved me. I included a citation by Engels 27. Ekimov had forgotten everything by Engels, whose work he had read a long time ago, and thought that it was my own ‘unsuccessful’ sentence. He began to say that it wasn’t clever, that it wasn’t right. When I replied that it was a quotation by Engels and even showed him, where I took it from, he couldn’t write that I wasn’t professionally skilled, otherwise everybody would have made fun of him. So the final reason for my dismissal was the ordinary ‘decreasing the quantity of staff’ and if he had written that I wasn’t professional enough, this would have been the end of the story.

First we went to the place, where there was a horrible judge with her face all painted with awful make-up, in a short skirt and with some fox on her shoulders. Emil’s pal, a very experienced lawyer, explained to us how to behave. Before the process itself I went in, tried to act like a complete idiot, just as if I had fallen from the sky, and said, ‘I came to get some advice, personally, without a crowd. They dismissed us, and I want to know if it makes any sense to apply to a court, because I don’t think, it was legal. I’m considered one of the best guides, and Emil fought in the war and got many medals.’ She replied, ‘Maybe, they had an order to clean up the staff.’ I tried to act again and said, ‘And what for? I have a very good questionnaire. I was never arrested or banished. And my parents are honest Soviet people. And Emil is a hero, he has medals.’ Here she couldn’t take this comedy any more and said, ‘Get away from here, it is unreasonable to go to the court and does not make any sense.’

Two assessors of the People’s Court, who sat in the same room, heard this entire scene. And when during the process they came to the sentence: ‘Do you trust these judges and assessors?’ we answered no, because ‘the decision was made long before the process started.’ I said that I had seen the judge and she explained that it doesn’t make sense for we would never win this case. So finally they decided to move this case to another court.

In another court we happened to meet an honest and noble judge, quite an old woman with an unhappy tired face, in dark clothes. And she judged us properly; she invited the witnesses and finally decided that our head must invite us back for work. Then we came back, and in a month they dismissed us again due to ‘decreasing the quantity of staff.’ So it continued: first they dismissed us, and then the court decided that we should get our jobs back.

Finally, Emil decided to go to Voroshylov 28 to get a hearing. So we collected some money and he was queuing for three long days there. And the last day, when the interview time was just over, he was the last one in this queue, so he wasn’t let in and that detail saved his life, because everyone who came to Voroshylov because of this question [dismissal due to Jewish nationality] was arrested the next day.

Only when the doctors were rehabilitated, they stopped discharging us. Later I happened to get a place in Kunstkamera, Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography, but my Jewish origins always impeded me. I wanted to be involved in scientific research, not to be a guide. As a matter of fact I did the job of scientific-technical staff, then of the so-called junior scientific staff – almost full-time – with all the necessary articles published and so on. Plus I worked as the senior specialist in methodic; I trained guides in the different fields and themes, so I worked for three people, and got a salary as if I worked for one.

Of course, I could have changed the situation, if I had joined the Communist Party. Some of my colleagues told me, ‘Just do it, a Jew can join the party without any problems.’ But I didn’t want to. So I retired when I was 60, but then for ten more years I worked in the Hermitage as a guide.

My husband wasn’t a Communist or party member, he couldn’t help me, he had his own problems, and he had to retire earlier than he wanted to: he was too popular a lecturer and professor, and other teachers were jealous of him, and there were scandals and some kind of competition. As for Communism, he was a great fan of Bolsheviks 29 in the pre-Revolution time, but soon he understood he wasn’t right and in the 1930s somehow he acted like he wasn’t a Communist any more, he said he never joined the Party, and they believed him.

When Stalin died, we understood nothing, of course, it wasn’t a great grief, but still I wasn’t glad, not at all, maybe I even cried. How could we have imagined that he was a dictator, perhaps worse than Hitler, who after all didn’t touch his own people, the Germans, while this man killed everybody? But we thought then that somebody wanted to organize the deportation of Jewish people 30, and Stalin would save us. So if he died, the authorities would organize the deportation for sure and nobody would defend Jews. Anyway, the discrimination lasted for years, perhaps, for ten more years. What can I say if in Brezhnev’s 31 times we felt it too? Only in Gorbachev’s 32 era it became easier to live. 

Of course, some of my friends and pals emigrated. But I think that everyone is able to choose a place to live, a certain land, where one feels better. My best friend Vladimir from Balaschicha [small town, 10-15 kilometers from Moscow] left for America: he didn’t wish to go, but his second wife, whose daughter went there, wanted to follow her child. He was Jewish, he always stressed that he was a Jew, even though he wasn’t a Zionist, and his wife acted like she was Russian her entire life. So, just like one of my pals said – ‘young people will adapt and older ones won’t be able to cope with their new life and will die’ – Vladimir died there.

The same happened to Bella, the wife of the famous writer Raevsky. Their daughter wanted to go to America, and they didn’t want her to go, so they went to the Embassy and asked for her visa to be refused and so on. Finally, she left, Raevsky died here, in Russia, and Bella followed her daughter and died two years later, even though she’d been a very healthy woman. And I know exactly that I wouldn’t like to live in another country, just because abroad they don’t have Russian literature, Russian music, and Russian art.

The daughter of Zinovy Aronovich had a son, my nephew. He was called Zinovy too: because they had a cult of this Zinovy Kiselgof in his family. He had the unique ability to count in his mind: he could find the square root in one moment or to multiple whatever three-figure number by a four-figure number. He studied brilliantly, and with great difficulties he got a chance to enter the most prestigious Institute, despite of the ‘percentage norm’ [i.e. unofficial quotas for Jews in universities], it seems to me, this was the Electromechanical Institute. I remember that this Institute was named after Ulianov-Lenin. So he graduated from this Institute with excellent grades and couldn’t find a job. He was born in 1944; it means that those events took place in the 1960s. They lived then in Volkhovskoy Road, on Vasilievski Island. Later they moved to another, very good apartment, I’ve never been there, because we were not friends with Ludmila, my cousin.

A pal of Zinovy, his schoolmate, immigrated to America. Those were the times when Soviet authorities exchanged Jews for wheat, sometime at the end of the 1960s, beginning of the 1970s. So he called Zinovy to America, and my nephew went there, having a job appointment already. He didn’t work in his professional field; he became a commercial traveler. However, in five years he was rich. He owned two villas. He married a girl, whom he met and got to know on the airplane, she was an immigrant too. He had two children in America, and he died approximately three years ago in Israel. He went there together with some of his partners, and then this man came back and said that Zinovy had drowned. Zinovy wasn’t such a man to go in the water for no reason, he wouldn’t risk that. He never got drunk, and it wasn’t the swimming season… So I think this is quite a strange story.

Zinovy came back to Russia twice, and the first time he came, when it was still forbidden 33. So he came as a tourist. He couldn’t even visit his relatives and his mother, who was ill. And Zinovy did the following: everyone went to Kighi [open-air museum of wooden architecture, situated in the Russian North], and he ran away, caught a taxi, came home and sat at home, not leaving. Then they ordered a taxi again and he came to the airport just as if he had come from Kighi. And when he came for the second time, it was allowed, and he didn’t hide. He invited his baby-sitter, a Russian woman, who raised him and whom he adored, to America and she stayed to live there.

Husband and children

My husband, Nicolas, was an unusual, outstanding person, a professor of geology. I never knew his parents, but he told me a lot about them, even showed me the photos. He comes from a family of heritage priesthood of the Russian Orthodox faith, he was an absolutely Russian man. Both his mother and father were the first ones in their families, who were not church people. His mother was a midwife, and his father was a Zemsky [local authority] manager; he died in the Leningrad blockade. This man was a big playboy and a liberal, while his mother was very religious, almost a fanatic.

When I met him, Nicolas was a widower. His second wife, Eugenia Victorovna Voinova, died in 1940. She was a geologist, and some encephalitis tick bit her. When I lived together with Nicolas on the campus, we lived there together with his daughter Nathalie and his sister, who was a singer and an awful woman with a horrible personality. I must say his first wife Elena Emilievna was a very nice and pleasant woman, we were pals, she came to visit and we communicated even after my husband’s death. She was a professor, a very intellectual woman, and very strong at the same time. After all, she gave birth to his four sons! But still Nicolas preferred his wife’s assistant Eugenia Victorovna and fell in love with her. And finally he got divorced and married his wife’s colleague and best friend.

My friends called Nicolas ‘a gift for young ladies,’ as he could do everything at home, he could do whatever you wanted: he was good at repairing things etc. Also he had wonderful manners and he made very funny jokes. He was a kind and open person, but not a simple one. People usually thought that Nicolas was a Jew. For example, a Jewish dressmaker lived in our house, and neighbors thought that they were very alike and told my husband: ‘When will my trousers be ready? What, they aren’t ready yet? So be careful, I’ll beat you.’ Sometimes they even beat him and they called him a kike, and they never thought that I was Jewish. From time to time in the store people addressed me, pointing at some Russian woman: ‘Look at this kike, shame on Jews, they all are guilty.’ My husband died in 1966 of a heart attack, he was ill for twenty minutes only. He was then 72, and as for me, I was 44.

My husband had four children from his first wife: Andrei, Sergey, Ivan, who was killed during World War II, on the front, and another child, who died in childhood. His second wife gave birth to his daughters Nathalie and Vera. I raised Nathalie, but she never liked me and we were not such big friends. I know that she is healthy and alive, but that’s all I know about my stepdaughter.

My elder son Alexei was born in 1946 in Leningrad. He has only a high school education, and then he became a car mechanic. He tried numerous jobs, now he is a businessman: in Opochka [town in Pskov region, 500 kilometers from Leningrad] together with his elder son, also called Alexei, he builds hotels and houses. He is married to a Russian girl, his schoolmate; he was eighteen when he got married. His wife never worked, now she is deeply immersed in the Russian Orthodox religion. They studied in the same class, and suddenly he decided to marry her, my husband said that our son ‘went for seed’ [i.e. by getting married early he stopped developing and would reproduce]. And really, Alexei, the elder son of our son has three children, my great-granddaughter is eleven and she goes to the fifth grade. My younger grandson Denis, the second son of my son Alexei, is a programmer; he lives in Leningrad and has two sons too. So far I have five great-grandchildren. My grandchildren are ‘earth people’; they live in Russia and don’t want to leave.

My daughter, Olga lives together with me. She was born in 1951, graduated from Gorny Institute, and all her life she worked in her professional field, first in ‘Gipronikel,’ then in ‘Lenkompriroda’ [local Leningrad Committee of protecting nature] as an ecologist. Now she is trying hard to organize her own firm, she wants to work in the field of ecological tourism. Besides, my daughter is very musical, and my son too. They sang very well, and they have a good ear for music, even if not pitch-perfect. So they both have a good ear for music, although I never taught them to sing and so on. Perhaps, it’s because of my father, or maybe, because of their own dad.

My daughter suffered from her Jewish nationality. She applied for the university, and only one exam was left. That was Physics. So when the exam started, somebody came in and, pointing a finger at my Olga, proposed: ‘Let’s examine this girl.’ They began to ask Olga such questions, that she even didn’t understand their content. Naturally, she got the worst grade. She came home, crying.

I told this story to my best friend, Larissa Anatolievna Popugaeva, who first discovered the Yakutsk diamonds, and she was well-known among geologists and in the university too. So she put on her Order of Lenin 34 and went to Leningrad University, to the head of the Geology Faculty, whom she knew very well. I stood behind the door and listened to what they were talking about. And he asked, ‘Why didn’t Olga say that she is a daughter of this certain Razumovsky?’ Finally, they ordered one more examination for her, and when she came, the examiner insisted: ‘Nobody called me.’ Olga didn’t understand what was going on. She said, ‘I demand you to examine me one more time.’ So she got the same difficult questions and the same bad grade. And just the moment she left this room, the ring followed, because the head of the faculty was late with this call.

Later I asked some specialist in the field of physics to answer those questions. Those questions were taken from the program of the fifth year of university, from some special part of physics. So Olga had to apply to Gorny Institute, where the admittance wasn’t finished yet, and where everybody knew her father – he was a famous scientist, one of the first, who used Mathematics to understand Geology, he discovered a scientific law, named after him.

She passed Physics, got a ‘five’ [the best grade in the Soviet educational system] and entered the first year. She studied at the evening courses, and in her free time she worked as a cleaner in this Institute. Later I found out that that year they took more Jews, than they were supposed to, they recovered the ‘percentage norm’ and tried to cut the number of the undesirables, according to external factors and the way people looked. They noticed Olga, because she has dark curly hair. 

Of course, my children knew that they were Jews, from their very birth. I never lied to them or hid this fact from them. What for? Olga couldn’t apply for the university, and in the 1970s someone beat up Alexei, perhaps, not even thinking or guessing that he was Jewish. So at home we talked about it, we had such conversations, but I don’t remember that we ever mentioned Jewish traditions.

I never went to restaurants, thought what a shame! I went there for the first time in my entire life, when I was forty, when I was an adult, not a very young woman any more. I went there without my parents or husband. The point is that the first husband of my middle sister Galina was quite a drunkard and a man who liked going out, and he called me up to go to the restaurant. I didn’t like it at all.

We didn’t react to the Israeli wars 35 36. We didn’t have any relatives there. However, I’m always for Israel, because I’m against Arabs! I don’t mean I’m against them as a people, but I think they aren’t right fighting the Israelis and saying: ‘This is our land.’ I’ve never been to Israel, I didn’t have such an opportunity. I would love to go there as a tourist, but I would like to take a trip to France or Italy too – unfortunately, I never traveled to any foreign country.

Recent years

After 1989 the situation changed for the better. Democratization is good, it is right. I think that it won’t be worse than it used to be. In Soviet times we lived in the atmosphere of lies and hypocrisy, we couldn’t be sincere and honest with our pals, we were afraid of everything. I don’t want those times to return and I hope it will never happen! 

I continue to communicate with my sister Irina. She is retired already, but she still works for the First Medical Institute: constructs different equipment, for example she made a tool to measure the composition of blood. There are quite a few such tools, but her tool is cheaper and more exact. People buy it with pleasure, even though there is no industrial production.

We are dacha neighbors. My daughter built this dacha not far from Gatchina [small town 50 kilometers from Leningrad], in Siverskaya. She started it ten years ago. The cottage looks nice; we have two verandahs, a kitchen, and a couple of rooms. In the upper story we have a stove, which is a fireplace at the same time. I like the nature around, these are interesting historical places, and here many noble families lived. The air is very clean, you can breathe it with pleasure, the river Orlinka is clean too and there are very many cranes in the neighborhood. We grow tomatoes, cucumbers and strawberries there. We plan to organize ecological tourist routes in this region, and I’m ready to provide excursions there, because I love those places.  

Irina is very easy-going; it is easy to influence her. Her husband is an artist, and she is attached to him. They are very good hosts, they like guests, and they always have some company, even very ordinary ones, and some of their guests behave like they are homeless.

Irina has two sons: Stanislav and Nicolas. Nicolas was named after my husband. Nowadays he works in Putin’s guard. He began his career as an investigator, then he was an operation commissioner, usually it is just the opposite, but he had such an irregular career because he stammered. And he stammered, because my mother, who wasn’t really healthy in those days, raised him. So he is handsome, strong and volitional. He looks like a hero, just like a movie character. Besides, he worked together with Kivinov [contemporary Russian writer, author of detective stories, has been an investigator of the criminal investigation department] in the so-called ‘killing department.’

Irina’s other son, Stanislav, is a very unhappy and sick person, his life wasn’t really successful. At first he took care of his old and sick grandmother – my mother – then he married a woman, whose mother went crazy. So all his life he spent together with crazy women, and now he reached the final point himself. Even though he is clever, his only disadvantage is his weak character. I don’t have contact with Nicolas and Stanislav a lot, but I’m a big friend of Elena, the daughter of my sister Galina. She lives nearby, not far from us; she has a daughter and two grandchildren, which means that Galina is a great-grandmother already.

In our family no Jewish holidays were celebrated, but we celebrated some of the Russian Orthodox holidays. One of my pals baptized my children, Olga turned to mystics. It happened in the late 1980s, we had hard times here in Russia, the economy collapsed, the country was destroyed, people didn’t know how to live and were looking for some mutual support. The Russian Orthodox Church started to increase its activities, and many people became very religious, including my daughter. She was attracted by this idea of mutual exploration, that’s what I mean when talking about ‘mystics.’ She’s been to Israel together with the Russian Orthodox mission. I never was an atheist, I believe in life after death, and I want to meet my daughter after our death,. I’m not a church person, and my daughter is a church person, I mean that she observes traditions and prays.

I like matzah and other Jewish meals. My children also like matzah, eat it with pleasure, of course, they know it’s some kind of Jewish food. Food was the only thing among all traditions, which we knew and observed. I cooked gefilte fish very well; some time ago my pal taught me how to cook ‘kichelach,’ which is Jewish cookies, so I even bake Jewish cookies at home.

I never chose my friends because of their nationality. Among my friends there are some Jews, but I never asked them how much Jewish blood they have. For example, my friend Nicolas Kotelnikov, the singer, he sings Jewish cantor songs, in my opinion he is a quarter-Jewish, his manager Mikhail works in Hesed Abraham 37 and is half-Jewish, which means that one of his parents was a Jew. I currently get packages from Hesed, sometimes I go there, once I’ve been there to a conference, about my uncle Kiselgof.

Once I came to visit one of my pals, she was a Jew, and was married to a Jew. So the conversations about Karl Marx, being Jewish, and almost Tchaikovsky being Jewish, started. They meant only that all people, who were famous for doing something, were Jews. It was very unpleasant. And if I would try to say ‘no,’ they would argue with me! I also had a friend, Emil, he is dead now. He thought the same as them, but he was more intelligent, but we sometimes argued too. I think that all nationalities have their own advantages and disadvantages, and our people don’t differ, we aren’t worse and we aren’t better than all others. Emil wasn’t agreeing with this point of view, even though it wasn’t his idée fixe. And I lost my last self-control, that’s why we argued about the Jewish role in the world history very emotionally, I would say passionately.

Jewish culture isn’t my culture, I grew up among Russians and Russian culture, I live due to this culture, Israel isn’t my country, not my people; I have no sense of national identity, I can’t consider myself Russian, because I’m Jewish and I even paid dearly for it, but I can’t think that I’m Jewish either, because I don’t know the language, I don’t share national feelings, I feel like I’m a cosmopolitan. And Israel is a state, which is built on national principles. Where I was born, there I’ll die.

Glossary:

1 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.

2 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.

3 Russian Revolution of 1917

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

4 Shalyapin, Feodor (1873-1938)

The possessor of a large, deep and expressive bass voice, he enjoyed an important international career at major opera houses and is often credited with establishing the tradition of naturalistic acting in his chosen art form. After the Revolution he left Russia and lived abroad till his death. (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feodor_Chaliapin)

5 Common name

Russified or Russian first names used by Jews in everyday life and adopted in official documents. The Russification of first names was one of the manifestations of the assimilation of Russian Jews at the turn of the 19th and 20th century. In some cases only the spelling and pronunciation of Jewish names was russified (e.g. Isaac instead of Yitskhak; Boris instead of Borukh), while in other cases traditional Jewish names were replaced by similarly sounding Russian names (e.g. Eugenia instead of Ghita; Yury instead of Yuda). When state anti-Semitism intensified in the USSR at the end of the 1940s, most Jewish parents stopped giving their children traditional Jewish names to avoid discrimination.

6 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.

7 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.

8 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.

9 Communal apartment

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

10 Lenin (1870-1924)

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

11 Item 5

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

12 Ibsen, Henrik (1828-1906)

Norwegian poet and playwright. His first artistic period was influenced by romanticism and related to the national liberation war of the Norwegian people against Swedish rule. From the 1860s onwards Ibsen wrote realistic social dramas, which harshly criticized society and its typical characteristics - bargaining, selfishness, pettiness, hypocrisy and the false morality of marriage: 'Brand,' 'Peer Gynt,' 'Pillars of Society,' 'Nora or A Doll's House,' 'Ghosts,' 'When We Dead Awaken' etc. In his last artistic period Ibsen was influenced by symbolism ('The Wild Duck') and mysticism ('The Master Builder').

13 Torgsin stores

Special retail stores, which were established in larger Russian cities in the 1920s with the purpose of selling goods to foreigners. Torgsins sold commodities that were in short supply for hard currency or exchanged them for gold and jewelry, accepting old coins as well. The real aim of this economic experiment that lasted for two years was to swindle out all gold and valuables from the population for the industrial development of the country.

14 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.

15 Young Octobrist

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

16 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.

17 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.

18 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.

19 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.

20 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.

21 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread 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.

22 Road of Life

It was a passage across Lake Ladoga in winter during the Blockade of Leningrad. It was due to the Road of Life that Leningrad survived in the terrible winter of 1941-42.

23 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 cancelled in 1947.

24 Residence permit

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

25 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.'

26 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.

27 Engels, Friedrich (1820-1895)

Philosopher and public figure, one of the founders of Marxism and communism.

28 Voroshylov, Kliment Yefremovich (1881-1969)

Soviet military leader and public official. He was an active revolutionary before the Revolution of 1917 and an outstanding Red Army commander in the Russian Civil War. As commissar for military and naval affairs, later defense, Voroshilov helped reorganize the Red Army. He was a member of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Communist Party from 1926 and a member of the Supreme Soviet from 1937. He was dropped from the Central Committee in 1961 but reelected to it in 1966.

29 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 (16th 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.

30 Birobidzhan

Formed in 1928 to give Soviet Jews a home territory and to increase settlement along the vulnerable borders of the Soviet Far East, the area was raised to the status of an autonomous region in 1934. Influenced by an effective propaganda campaign, and starvation in the east, 41,000 Soviet Jews relocated to the area between the late 1920s and early 1930s. But, by 1938 28,000 of them had fled the regions harsh conditions, There were Jewish schools and synagogues up until the 1940s, when there was a resurgence of religious repression after World War II. The Soviet government wanted the forced deportation of all Jews to Birobidzhan to be completed by the middle of the 1950s. But in 1953 Stalin died and the deportation was cancelled. Despite some remaining Yiddish influences - including a Yiddish newspaper - Jewish cultural activity in the region has declined enormously since Stalin's anti-cosmopolitanism campaigns and since the liberalization of Jewish emigration in the 1970s. Jews now make up less than 2% of the region's population.

31 Brezhnev, Leonid, Ilyich (1906–1982)

Soviet leader. He joined the Communist Party in 1931 and rose steadily in its hierarchy, becoming a secretary of the party's central committee in 1952. In 1957, as protégé of Khrushchev, he became a member of the presidium (later politburo) of the central committee. He was chairman of the presidium of the Supreme Soviet, or titular head of state. Following Khrushchev's fall from power in 1964, which Brezhnev helped to engineer, he was named first secretary of the Communist Party. Although sharing power with Kosygin, Brezhnev emerged as the chief figure in Soviet politics. In 1968, in support of the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, he enunciated the 'Brezhnev doctrine,' asserting that the USSR could intervene in the domestic affairs of any Soviet bloc nation if communist rule was threatened. While maintaining a tight rein in Eastern Europe, he favored closer relations with the Western powers, and he helped bring about a détente with the United States. In 1977 he assumed the presidency of the USSR. Under Gorbachev, Brezhnev's regime was criticized for its corruption and failed economic policies.

32 Gorbachev, Mikhail (1931- )

Soviet political leader. Gorbachev joined the Communist Party in 1952 and gradually moved up in the party hierarchy. In 1970 he was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, where he remained until 1990. In 1980 he joined the politburo, and in 1985 he was appointed general secretary of the party. In 1986 he embarked on a comprehensive program of political, economic, and social liberalization under the slogans of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). The government released political prisoners, allowed increased emigration, attacked corruption, and encouraged the critical reexamination of Soviet history. The Congress of People's Deputies, founded in 1989, voted to end the Communist Party's control over the government and elected Gorbachev executive president. Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party and granted the Baltic states independence. Following the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991, he resigned as president. Since 1992, Gorbachev has headed international organizations.

33 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.

34 Order of Lenin

Established in 1930, the Order of Lenin is the highest Soviet award. It was awarded for outstanding services in the revolutionary movement, labor activity, defense of the Homeland, and strengthening peace between peoples. It has been awarded over 400,000 times.

35 Six-Day-War

The first strikes of the Six-Day-War happened on 5th June 1967 by the Israeli Air Force. The entire war only lasted 132 hours and 30 minutes. The fighting on the Egyptian side only lasted four days, while fighting on the Jordanian side lasted three. Despite the short length of the war, this was one of the most dramatic and devastating wars ever fought between Israel and all of the Arab nations. This war resulted in a depression that lasted for many years after it ended. The Six-Day-War increased tension between the Arab nations and the Western World because of the change in mentalities and political orientations of the Arab nations.

36 Yom Kippur War

The Arab-Israeli War of 1973, also known as the Yom Kippur War or the Ramadan War, was a war between Israel on one side and Egypt and Syria on the other side. It was the fourth major military confrontation between Israel and the Arab states. The war lasted for three weeks: it started on 6th October 1973 and ended on 22nd October on the Syrian front and on 26th October on the Egyptian front.

37 Hesed

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

Motel Meilakhs

Mark Abramovich lives in a distant northern part of town in a modern multi-storied building in the apartment of his elder son.
From the window you can see a large field, Koroleva Street and the adjacent apartment blocks, very similar to the one in which Mark Abramovich lives.
The Meilakhs’ apartment is on the sixth floor. Standing on the balcony, Mark Abramovich showed me a children’s library not very far from his house and
said that two years ago he was still able to go there almost every day and read newspapers.

 

Kids visiting the library, having learned that Mark Abramovich was a historian, consulted him on their lessons and essays in history,
and the kind, old man enjoyed helping everybody. For quite some time now Mark Abramovich hasn’t left his home,
only moving around the small three-room apartment. A small, ten square meter room is both his study and bedroom.
All wall-cases from the ceiling to the floor are filled with books on history.

 

On his desk there are a lot of papers and folders with written works and articles by our interviewee and scientific literature that he reads.
Centrally located on his desk is a big color portrait of his spouse, taken when she was young, that inspires Mark Abramovich and helps him in his work.
There are several bottles of medicines on the table, but there is no smell of old age in the room
– everything is clean and tidy and looks natural and cozy. Mark Abramovich is used to working in simple surroundings.
He possesses a wonderful sense of humor and is joking a lot during our interview, smiling at me with his kind and clear, gray eyes.
He has a vivid expression and a high, wrinkled forehead. I was surprised by his hands,
as they don’t look like those of a 93-year old man: he has long fingers of a strong man’s hand with large accurate white nails.

Family

Life of Jews in Russia

My parents

Childhood and youth

In exile

Life under the communist regime

Glossary

Family

I was named in honor of my deceased insane uncle. My officially registered name is Motel Avrumovich, but in everyday life people used to call me Mark Abramovich 1.

My paternal grandfather, Gersh Meilakhs, died in 1923 in the town of Tyrlitsa, Monastyrischi district, Lipovetsky region of Kiev province. In his childhood my grandfather studied in a сheder. All Jews without exception studied there. If it was a son of a poor man, the community paid for his schooling. And what was paid to the teachers was considered to be money just to support them, not payment for the schooling itself. Because money can’t be taken for the word of God. Children were taught free-of-charge. Grandfather wore everything that tradition required: a beard, payes, a long frock coat, a lapserdak [upper man’s coat; an old-fashioned long frock coat made of cheap rough wool] and a hat.

Grandfather and Grandmother were especially religious, they observed absolutely all Jewish traditions: kosher food, Sabbath, they went to the synagogue every day. My grandmother didn’t wear a wig, it wasn’t generally accepted then; women would just cover their heads with kerchiefs. Men would wear caps or hats. There was only one cap-maker in Tyrlitsa, and hats would be brought from the town and sold in the settlement. Also, they celebrated absolutely all Jewish holidays at home. Nobody in their family ever changed their names [to Russian ones].

Grandfather couldn’t read or write Russian and didn’t think of politics. The only big boss for him was the policeman. He paid him three-five rubles bribe each month for him not to shut down his store. When Jews were prohibited from running stores, the license was registered in the name of a peasant they knew. He got ten rubles a year for it. And on market days the peasant’s son used to sit in the store, a twelve-year-old boy, who thought it was his store. That’s how they deceived Nikolai II [Russian Emperor]. Their relations with neighbors were very good. In our settlement there were only Jews. And the Ukrainians lived all around us. The attitude towards each other was really very warm. And in time of pogroms 2 they protected us. We ran to the peasants and they hid us and then they would go out and ask the bandits to leave.

People had rest only on holidays. Holidays and Saturdays were strictly observed, it was a rule. On Friday absolutely everyone attended a banya [steam-house; it was not a mikveh or a ritual bath]. If it was a summer day and the market place was close by, say, in the next village, people went there, but tried to return in time for the banya, and in time for the synagogue. Every regulation was observed very strictly. It was engraved in my memory from the age of eight-ten. Children weren’t taken to other settlements. They would study in сheder from five in the morning.

I don’t know whether Grandfather Gersh served in the army or not, there is no information about that. I have no detailed data on Grandfather’s family, because since 13 years of age I lived outside my family, being a student. Grandfather helped Grandma to keep the house and manage the store. They spoke Yiddish and Ukrainian with each other. The topics of conversations were mainly domestic. They read nothing; they were illiterate. They only knew all prayers by heart.

My grandmother Meilakhs, obviously, was born in the same place, in the town of Tyrlitsa, Monastyrischi district, Lipovetsky region of Kiev province. Grandmother died approximately in 1927. She lived about one hundred years. That means she was born in about 1827. She never heard of doctors, never was sick with anything. I have no information about her relatives. She had no education; girls weren’t accepted for schooling. She was very religious: celebrated all holidays, read prayers. The prayers were in Hebrew, but the women didn’t know the translation. They understood only Yiddish, and what they read in Hebrew they didn’t understand. It’s not a joke, it’s a real fact. On one side of the synagogue there was the men’s part of the hall, and on the other – the ladies’ part. There were prayers, during which it was necessary to weep. So when these prayers were ending, the men’s part was already making merry, and women, before it got to them, would still cry.

Grandmother Meilakhs was a housewife, she spent all day long by the Russian stove 3: cooked galantines of hot and salty fish, prepared hors-d’oevres for vodka from salty fish or beef legs, sold vodka. Grandmother put on the simplest long clothes. I can remember that usually on the eve of Sabbath, on Friday morning, white bread would be baked for Saturday and Sunday. On Monday rye bread was baked for the whole week.

The house was like this: a large room, where vodka was sold, a small bedroom, a small kitchen, behind which there was a large room, where visitors spent the night, because the house also served as an inn, and the countrymen led their horses in the big courtyard, and slept on the straw. Four rooms without cellars. Earth floor. Furniture – tables and benches – was made by the local joiners. There was no water supply or electricity. In the settlement there was a water-carrier, and he brought water. The house was heated by firewood. Firewood was bought at the market. There was neither garden nor animals, because houses were built very close to each other and there was no free space. There were no maids or assistants either.

When and where my maternal grandfather Peisakh was born, I don’t know. He died in the settlement of China-Town in Vinnitsy district, in the 1920s. He didn’t receive any education, except for сheder. He never attended a yeshivah. Yeshivah gave you a professional schooling, they taught boys who prepared to be rabbis. His level of religiosity was very high. He prayed every day. I remember, how I stayed at his place as a boy of eight or ten, on a visit. I remember how traditions were observed. His business was to make and sell wine made of raisins. He sold it by wineglasses, he didn’t sell by bottles. Wine was consumed right there, on the spot. Countrymen didn’t like to take wine home, because their wives could beat them for drunkenness. There is no information about his brothers or sisters. He had hardly served in any army. Peisakh’s mother tongue was only Yiddish.

My maternal grandmother Dvoira died in the 1920s, in the settlement of China-Town. She was buried there. Where she was born, I don’t know. It is only known that she lived to be over eighty years old. It means that she was born in the 1840s. Grandmother Dvoira received a home education. The level of her religiosity was high. She knew all prayers and regularly prayed, and she could read Hebrew. She helped my grandfather, her husband, and was engaged in housework. Her mother tongue was only Yiddish. I have nothing to say about her brothers or sisters.

Life of Jews in Russia

Their house survived, there were no pogroms in the area. The local peasants understood that Jews brought them profit, because the Jewish settlement provided the villagers with craftsmen. In the Ukrainian villages there were no smiths, or coopers, or shoemakers, or tailors. All these services were provided by the settlement. Therefore they understood the advantage of the existence of the Jewish population. And Stolypin 4 reported to the Tsar that in areas of Jewish settlement local peasants lived better than in those places, where there were no Jews. Because, as he explained, Jewish settlements gave them the handicraftsmen, and bought natural products from them. The Jews didn’t keep cows, sheep, or kitchen gardens, they bought all of these. So they provided both the demand for food products and the supply of labor.

That is why Stolypin reported the situation to Nikolai II and suggested, ‘It is necessary to cancel the settlement boundaries for Jews 5, because in settlements there is an abundance of shoemakers who need jobs, they have nothing to do, whereas outside settlement limits there is hardly anybody to repair your boots.’ The Tsar answered, ‘I agree with you, but my heart does not allow me to do so. And my heart never deceives me.’ [Editor’s note: In December 1906 P. A. Stolypin signed a government decree on partial withdrawal of legal limitations for Jews, directed at the achievement of complete equality in future. However, Nikolai II answered: ‘In spite of really convincing arguments for such an enterprise, my inner voice keeps telling me not to assume the responsibility for this decision’ (Correspondence between N. A. Romanov and P. A. Stolypin. The Red Archive, v.5. Moscow, 1924, page 105).]

Everyone in the settlement was very closely connected to each other. Some distinction was only between the handicraftsmen and the traders. The handicraftsmen concluded marriages between themselves, traders between traders. Trade dealers in our settlement lived in the center, and handicraftsmen lived on the outskirts. Why on the outskirts – because clients came to them from villages. With their craft they served five neighboring villages in a radius of three-five kilometers. And consequently it was better for them to live on the outskirts.

It means that the government had already selected our district as an official Jewish settlement. One or two Jews lived in each village before the revolution 6. As a rule, they were small traders. A trader rented a house and kept salt, sugar or kerosene for sale in one room – all the most necessary things for the villagers. The dealers felt themselves in a completely special position. And on holidays, on Rosh Hashanah, on Pesach they came to the settlement. And I don’t remember that before the revolution there was any fear. Everything was completely quiet. When the revolution began, all of them fled from their villages at once, though nobody had touched them by then.

The typical occupations of the Jews in that area were commerce and craft. Dealers made up to 30 percent of settlement’s population, handicraftsmen – 40 percent: smiths, shoemakers, tailors. Craftsmen made carts, coopers made barrels. And they serviced five villages. And peasants themselves had no time to do all this work. But they sold their produce in the settlement’s market place. When Stolypin reported to Nikolai II, he underlined, that in Jewish settlement areas peasants always paid taxes in time. And outside of settlement limits there were tax shortages, because countrymen had no one to sell their produce to.

Once a week a trade fair was held in the settlement and peasants from the neighboring villages arrived. On such days my father used to put up a tent in the market place, and in this tent he and Mom sold ready-to-wear clothes, which they sewed. They bargained and they ‘shook hands.’ There were many other Jewish tents. And it was only Jews who sold clothes. A little bit aside was another market, where peasants sold meat. Meat was sold only by villagers. Jews didn’t show up there at all. And further away there was a ‘torgovitsa’, a market place in Ukrainian. There they sold cattle and horses. In that market Jews actively participated. There were Jews, who bought cattle for slaughtering, and Jews, who bought horses and then resold them. The Jews bought only kosher meat.

The population of the settlement amounted to a little bit over one thousand men; there were five streets. One-storied houses from east to west, unpaved streets. No conveniences in the houses. No electricity or water supply. In each house there were kerosene lamps for illumination. Toilets didn’t exist. It was everyone’s own business. You could seldom see real floors in a house, usually they were just earthen floors. We had a wooden floor in our house. Furniture: table and stools. And only our family as a relatively well-to-do one had some chairs.

People lived very modestly, without pretensions. Everyone was happy, if he wasn’t hungry, had some clothes and footwear. A suit sewed for a wedding was kept almost to the man’s last day. It would be put on only on holidays. But cleanliness was strictly observed. By the way, an untidy Russian woman was called a ‘slut,’ and an uncleanly Jewish girl was called a ‘shtinka’, stinker. Each house consisted of two-three rooms, and some houses didn’t even have separate bedrooms, because owners couldn’t afford it. There were no two-storied houses. The first two-storied house I’ve ever seen was when we moved to another settlement. Anyway, our house differed very little from those of peasants.

There were three synagogues in the settlement. There was an old bet midrash [synagogue and study house], there was a newly constructed synagogue and a small synagogue for the handicraftsmen. The handicraftsmen went to their synagogue separately from others. This was a tradition. There was a rabbi in the settlement, a very respectable and honest man called Berkhard Berezhansky. The rabbi was above medium height, broad-shouldered, with a thick beard and gentle face, very kind and clever. Many residents of the settlement would seek his advice. He was our neighbor. But it was impossible to live on the income of a rabbi, and his wife was engaged in commerce.

When the rabbi was invited to my sister’s wedding in 1925, he raised a toast and said: ‘Long live the Soviet Power, otherwise how would I be invited to such a great wedding, if not for this power!’ He was a joker and a plain, easy-going person. One of his sons, when religion was subjected to persecutions 7, started to work as a shoemaker with me, as a cutter. He worked as a cutter, joined the Komsomol 8 and then entered a military academy. He reached the rank of lieutenant and was killed in Stalingrad 9. He left for a reconnaissance mission and never came back.

There also was a cantor in the community. A cantor is a singer performing prayers. There was a column in the synagogue, behind which he prayed. And the chorus would sing, repeating after him. He was a self-taught man.

There was a mikveh in the bathhouse, a pool for ritual ablutions. After washing yourself in a bath, you would descend several steps, dip into the water a couple of times and get out. There was a well nearby, and the bathhouse attendant would start bringing water to fill the pool from early in the morning. According to the Jewish law the water must be flowing, but it was impossible. I can remember it very well, because I used to bathe there often, every week on Fridays with my father; we would plunge in and jump out. But everyone was healthy. From the point of view of the Jewish law, the rabbis believed that such a mikveh was better than none.

My parents

My father’s name was Avrum Gershevich Meilakhs. He was born in the settlement of Tyrlitsa, Monastyrischi district, Lipovetski region of Kiev province in 1876. He studied in a сheder, and could write neither Russian, nor Ukrainian, only Yiddish and Hebrew. But he knew the Torah by heart. He was an Orthodox Jew. He observed the kashrut, absolutely all holidays and prayers. Father served in the imperial army between 1897 and 1901. And the commander of their regiment was very insistent in persuading him to get christened. Father was a very good soldier, first in all affairs, and he had constantly heard: ‘Get christened, we will teach you, we will help you’ 10. My parents used to read the prayer ‘Shma’ every day [Shma – a famous everyday Jewish prayer]. Mom and Dad would pray and I would repeat after them. So by the time I learned to speak, at about three-four years of age, I learned to pray as well.

From 14 years of age Father worked as a sales assistant in a shop of a rich Jew. Later my father became a tailor, and was engaged in small trade, and Mom helped him. Daddy worked as a sales assistant for my mother’s uncle, a very well known man called Neller Shlay. Obviously, it is through him that they got acquainted. They got married in a synagogue. Civil marriages were very much condemned at the time. They got married in a synagogue, in accordance with all customs, everything was done as necessary. Their marriage was registered in 1903 in the settlement of Tyrlitsa, and in 1904 my sister was born.

My father was the village headman. All the provisions for the poor, all donations and mutual aid went through him. On Friday morning bread for Saturday was baked in each Jewish family. And each family baked a small bun for paupers. And my granny would send her elder grandson to collect them. When I grew up and was about eight years old, we used to wander with a basket around the settlement from house to house, and the folks gave us those buns. We brought them to Grandmother, from one street, from another, from the third, and then she arranged, who of the beggars the buns should be taken to. And thus, from my childhood I’ve seen enough of the real beggars. Usually they were sick people. In the synagogue you could also meet poor men, but not from the nearby settlements. The beggars would leave their native places not to dishonor their relatives. In the synagogue on Friday night there also were about eight to ten beggars. It was seen to it that each well-off Jew would take a beggar to his home for Friday and Saturday. And in our house, as a rule, there always was a poor man sitting at the table with us on Friday. I saw many of them in our house.

Father was evacuated to Alma-Ata [today Almaty in Kazakhstan] during the war 11. After the war he didn’t get any pension, I supported him. My wife went to see him every seven months and brought him the money. It was impossible to transfer money then. When she visited him, she washed his clothes and helped him about the house. And then she would put the money in his bank account.

During the Holocaust, Mom was evacuated to Alma-Ata too. There she died. Mom had three cousins. One of them was executed with his family by the Germans, shot in 1942 in the settlement of Dashev. I went there to see the mass grave. He lived in the settlement of China-Town where my mother was born. He was also engaged in winemaking: he bought raisins and made wine.

My mother, Neila Skhovof Isaakоvna, was born in 1878 in the settlement of China-Town in Vinnitsa province. What the origin of this name is, I have no idea. It is about 12 kilometers away from Vinnitsa. And she died in Kazakhstan, in Alma-Ata, one year after Father’s death in 1971. She received a home education. Anyway, I remember her sitting and tracing words with her finger in some fairy tales, however, not Jewish ones, but I can’t remember what language it was. And she knew the Jewish language; she read prayers freely. The level of her religiosity was extremely high. She prayed all her life. She knew prayers by heart, and she observed all holidays. She was a very strong believer. And she helped the poor very much. Our family believed that help to the poor was a serious God-pleasing deed. Her mother tongue was Yiddish. She helped my Father in sewing and trade. She went around market places. My mother spoke Yiddish and poor Ukrainian. It was necessary to communicate with the buyers. So Mom learned to read Russian by herself.

On Friday we baked white bread for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And at the same time we baked a small bun for the poor. On Monday we baked rye bread for all the week. Meat was bought at the market. We bought live hens from peasants, who brought them out for sale in the morning. These hens were cut by the shochet, following all the tricks of the trade, with a prayer, as it was necessary. I carried these hens to the butcher and I remember how he did it and how he said a prayer.

My parents had enough food to eat and enough clothes to put on and were very happy with their life. They never aspired to richness. It wasn’t even discussed. Our house was one of the best in the settlement. Father built it himself. He employed workers to help. A small living room of about three by four meters, a small dining room and a kitchen. Between the living room and the dining room there was a wall with a stove, heated by firewood. And a similar wall separated the bedroom with two wooden beds made by the local joiners. There they slept. The furniture was all made by the local Jewish joiners. Only a couple of chairs had been brought by Father from somewhere else. A big table separated the kitchen and the workshop, where there were three sewing machines. Father would cut, and Mom would sew, and later they hired two Jewish girls, who helped them. And they used to sell their produce. Besides, there was a small store in the same house. And when it was raining and you couldn’t go out, they sold ready-to-wear clothes to peasants in this store.

My father’s elder brother Gershim was three to four years older than him. He died approximately in 1928. He was a beer seller. More precisely, he didn’t sell, his wife did, and he prayed and helped her. She was a very dashing woman. They had a horse, and they delivered beer to villages. They lived in the settlement of Tyrlitsa.

His second brother Motel lived in the city of Lipovets, Kiev province. He was born in 1874, and died in 1919. He was killed by gangsters in the forest, where he worked. He was an expert in wood matters.

Father’s third brother, Akiva, was born in the town of Tyrlitsa. He left for America in 1901. When the war came to an end, he tried to find my father and sent us his address. But at that time I studied in the institute, and any links with foreigners were dangerous 12. Father didn’t reply. Now it is safe. Quite recently, about a year ago, I had a chance to help people from America find their relatives in Russia.

Mom’s elder brother, Nukhom, after being dispossessed, escaped to Odessa and lived there. He was a sales representative. He went through settlements and sold gold things, basically, as an intermediary. The second brother Akiva was religious. He was an accountant in fish farms in Astrakhan. He was killed by Budenny soldiers in 1920. S. M. Budenny was a well-known commander of cavalry troops in the Red Army. Two soldiers came to his house, drunk, he came out to meet them and got killed.

Childhood and youth

I was born on 25th June 1909 in the village Tyrlitsa, Monastyrischi district, Lipovetski region, Kiev province. My mother spent her time going through market places with Father. I had a nurse, Marika, her surname was Kolmiychuk, an Ukrainian girl, who, as I was told, cared very much about me. When pogroms began, I was nine to ten years old and I lived with her. She cared about me so much that she remained in my memory as a close relative. She died during the famine 13. If I hadn’t been so small then, I would have taken all the possible care of this girl, who was so good to me, who actually had brought me up. I would have done my best to save her. Caring for a fellow-human, helping a human is the right of the human soul. And I take pride and pleasure in recollecting that the Ten Commandments were the program of life for my parents.

We had a Derek-сheder for junior students, who were only taught the Torah, and a Gemara-сheder for the seniors, after three years of studies. The Derek-сheder occupied a small room. All teachers were men with full beards, wearing kippot. All boys wore caps. All of us went to the сheder by five or six o’clock in the morning and were released for lunch at eleven-twelve. The school was not far from our homes. An assistant, we called him ‘beelfe,’ would take us home and back. I started to attend сheder at the age of five. I learned the alphabet from the Torah. From the first day I would sit down at a table, open the Torah, and study the letters. The Torah has 52 chapters, and each week we studied one of them. The following year we went through the same chapters with comments of Rashi 14. Each year we studied the Torah: In the first year with one kind of comments, in the second year with another.

Then I passed on to Gemara-cheder. In the сheder for older children they studied the Talmud. [Gemara, a part of Talmud embracing the latest and detailed interpretations of principal laws of Talmud, Mishnah.] That school was located in a small room, which you entered through the kitchen without doors. There was a rough wooden table. Ten boys sat at this table with Talmuds, and the rabbi sat at the head of the table. We read and translated classical Jewish texts. That’s all we did. There were no breaks. If one needed to go to the toilet, he was let out in the street. There were no toilets in the settlement, so we did what we had to directly on the ground. 

You know what I’ll tell you – cheder was a very useful institution not only in the sense of education and studying the Torah, but it helped developing abstract thinking in kids: when children of seven years of age were already thinking about the creation of the world and about God. And the settlement limits, devised especially for Jews, resulted in the appearance of real geniuses! Because people living within these settlement limits couldn’t even dream of acquiring the positions of city executives, of power and riches, they could only think of spiritual life.

In 1918 сheders were closed. The authorities would punish people for illegal teaching and studying the Torah. I went to an elementary school. My first teacher was Vasily Andreevich Meschik, a Ukrainian. In our settlement there were only four grades of elementary school. And then Father took me to another settlement of Dashev, not far from Tyrlitsa. I lived at my uncle’s home and went to school there. It was a seven-year school. There were only Ukrainians there. They liked to stress then, that they were Ukrainians, not Russians. I remember all of them with a warm feeling, especially Maria Sidorovna Samarina, the teacher of Botany. She was very kind and tender. The school was outside of the settlement, one or two kilometers away. And the teacher lived in the settlement too. We watched out for her, boys and girls, when she would leave for school, and joined her. And on the way she would tell us interesting stories, and we would confide our secrets to her as well.

There’s something else I would like to tell you about her. Daddy paid for the first year of my study. Elementary school was free-of-charge, and the seven-year school was to be paid for. So he came twice a year, bought a sack of wheat or rye at the market and took it to the school as a payment. And when I passed over to the sixth grade, my marks were like this: satisfactory, unsatisfactory, and then two goods. I studied rather well and the director called me up and said: tell your daddy not to buy grain any more, we will teach you free-of-charge for your good results. And once we had my uncle visiting, my mother’s brother, and Daddy told him in confidence, so that I wouldn’t hear, that when asked about my progress Maria Sidorovna told him, ‘He will be a professor.’ I overheard that, but I wasn’t especially interested in such things then, I just didn’t know what it meant. Now I am grateful to my destiny that I became a professor at the university and wrote three dissertations.

Absolutely all Jewish traditions were observed in our family. On Sukkot we used to put up a special tent [sukkah]. We sat in this tent in the open air. If you pulled the cords, the roof would open. We ate in this tent. And we celebrated all holidays. Pesach was a special holiday. I went to the synagogue with my father and prayed with him. When the сheder was prohibited, I took Talmud lessons with one almost completely blind Jew. It was done illegally. I couldn’t help admiring this blind Jew in his poor house. As soon as I finished reading a line from the Talmud, he continued citing to the end of the chapter by heart.

Our parents didn’t teach us anything; they were illiterate. Customs had educational influence upon us by themselves. We strictly observed all the traditions, kosher principles and holidays. I can see now: on Saturday Father and I are walking to the synagogue. I have a prayer book in my hand. Father tells me, what I should do. I am 13. Father invited a famous rabbi from Monastyrische, and he carried out the bar mitzvah.

Probably our favorite holiday was Lag ba-Omer, the 33rd day after Pesach. [This day is known as a student’s holiday. Kids in cheders and yeshivahs are released of studies and allowed to play various games.] A sunny day and we, the boys, were in the street. For some reason we were playing with hoops. All this is clearly imprinted in my memory. I also remember how after Yom Kippur we went down to the river, and everyone shook out the contents of their pockets. It symbolized shaking away our sins. It stuck in my memory how the peasants from the neighboring houses jumped out and watched with great respect how Jews were observing the precepts of their God.

I began to give private lessons when I studied in the fifth grade. Neighbors’ kids were in their first and second grades. The requirements then were very serious, no indulgences, only hard work. Our neighbors asked me to practice some Arithmetic with their children. So as early as at the age of 14 years I became a teacher. I had tutors as well. When I was transferred to the seven-year school, to the fifth grade, I was good at arithmetic. But I was one month late for the beginning of the academic year. They were already studying algebra and I didn’t know algebra. So Father agreed with one Jewish student – a student was regarded as an academician in the settlement – and he taught me algebra for one month, until I achieved the required level. Judging from his looks, he wasn’t religious, without a beard. But, most importantly, he wore a student’s uniform and a cap, and was a real student.

My closest friend was Misha Moldavsky. He was from an assimilated family, not religious. My parents didn’t know about it, only my uncle knew. But this family was well educated, and their mother was educated, they were all literate. It was generally appreciated, therefore my uncle didn’t criticize our friendship. The Moldavsky family owned a small factory with 25 workers, an iron foundry. Once Misha invited me to spend the night at his, and his mother invited me to dinner. I was sitting at the table and suddenly I saw a piece of bacon in my borsch [red-beet soup]. I was so terrified. I knew that I was committing a sin, but how could I refuse? And it was my first violation, in the sixth grade. I ate that piece of bacon. I had a strong feeling of guilt for a long time after.

Then I joined the organization of pioneers 15. You know, it was an anti-religious propaganda, carried out by absolutely illiterate people. There was a close ally of Stalin – Emelian Yaroslavsky. His real name was Gubelman. He was the author of a brochure dedicated to the Bible. I read it when I grew up. It was a criminal explanation of the Jewish legends in the literal sense of the word. The Jewish legends, all these records, have a historical value. He didn’t acknowledge even that. And religion, as a matter of fact, had been ousted by force, rather than by propaganda. We were forced to sing such a song. It is a shame to cite it here, but for you to have a better idea about that time [1922], let me quote two lines [the interviewee sings in Russian]:

‘Down with all the monks, rabbis and priests
We’ll climb upon the skies, and we’ll disperse all gods’

Teachers, who we loved and appreciated, stood aside from all this disgrace. Later pioneer leaders appeared at schools, mostly illiterate workers. So these uneducated workers, who came to school to create pioneer organizations, snatched out the best schoolchildren and made them pioneers. With time they made every pupil a pioneer… But I continued to pray up to my seventh year in school. I didn’t turn on the light on Sabbath. I stood at the window. I knew prayers by heart. But it was necessary to hold the prayer book. I would stand at the window, holding the prayer book, and our boys and girls passed by along the street from school and saw me in my vestments. Nobody ever teased me. So all this godlessness was superficial, imposed upon kids by force.

Up to the age of 13 I lived in the family of my parents. Later I moved to my uncle in Dashev. In 1925 I finished a Ukrainian national school simultaneously working as a laborer at a mechanical plant in order to earn my food. In 1926 I moved to my other uncle in the village of Kalnik three kilometers from Dashev, and worked at a mill – chopping firewood and helping around. From that time my official work experience is registered in my documents. Usually after dinner, it was customary in the settlement to have a nap. Frequently we went for a visit to our relatives and friends. In religious families it was very common to read Kohelet, and I remember, that the book was commonly cited in everyday life. When I turned 13, a rabbi arrived and performed a bar mitzvah for me. I regularly prayed until I turned 15. Later religion was so much persecuted that it became simply dangerous to exercise religious ceremonies. 

I never felt any anti-Semitism from the part of teachers or classmates in my whole life. On the contrary, Russians would always treat me very well and even helped me. I checked myself many times on this matter, but no, I’m convinced there wasn’t anything, neither from teachers, nor from students. Why didn’t I experience anti-Semitism in the course of pogroms? Peasants protected us. We had no pogroms, because the priest and the peasants, the parishioners, interceded for us. And at the time of Demidov pogroms, the attacks of Demidov’s gang, Jewish girls used to hide in the priest’s house. Because the gangsters raped the girls, who failed to hide in time.

I remember well the first raid of Volynet’s gang [1918]. My cousin grabbed my hand and dragged me through kitchen gardens to the peasants, where we were given shelter and were fed until the end of the day. The neighbor of the owner came and told him, that the gangsters were riding through the village, shouting: ‘Drive out the Jews, or we will shoot the owner!’ And the landlady, Taraska Kudina, took me from the stove and, calming me down, lead me to the ‘klunya’ and hid me behind the sheaves. A ‘klunya’ is a shed, where they stock sheaves. She left me there and came every half an hour to remind me that I should sit quietly. In a couple of hours she came back and said that the gang had left, and led me to my parents. I also remember a raid of Denikin 16 bandits. All the girls hid in villagers’ houses, and the majority of them ran to the house of our priest, Nikolai Ivanovich Kopeiko. And he gave them shelter and food until the gangsters left.

‘АRА’ stands for ‘American Relief Administration’ 17, an American organization, which helped Jews, victims of pogroms, in the 1920s. They brought food stuff – condensed milk, cabbage, oil – as well as clothes to villages where massacres took place. And those who suffered from pogroms were asked to describe in written form what happened and these records were kept as archives. I worked on ‘АRА’ archives, when I was a post-graduate student. For each document we filed a small card. I remember a description of a terrible massacre. Over one hundred men were executed. And those who escaped hid in peasants’ houses. I met a peasant, who had his house as well as his barn full of Jews at the time of the pogrom. So the local peasants not only didn’t quarrel with, but also tried to rescue Jews.

In 1934 I was a post-graduate student of the Kiev University. We were sent to the Kiev State Archive with a mission to study ‘АRА’ archives in two months. Liberberg was the director of the Jewish Institute. He was shot in times of repressions. I was his assistant. He helped us to get access to those secret materials. When we came, the head of the archive, Shkarovskaya, a Jew, handed us ten huge folders, containing all those ‘ARA’ documents. When help was brought to homes, ten ‘ARA’ representatives would come to families and ask every member to describe personally in his own handwriting what they saw during pogroms, all that they witnessed and remembered. We studied each such sheet of paper, described it as it was adopted in libraries and archives, filing a special card for each one. We spent half a year for this business instead of two months. We read and reread all those papers. Where these archives are now – I don’t know. I don’t think anybody has seen them since then.

My two brothers died in infancy, not having lived to one year of age. My sister Peisya-Ita was born in 1904 in the settlement of Tyrlitsa and died in 2000 in Israel, in the city of Rehovot. She was so sturdy that she went swimming on the day of her death. In 1925 she moved to a Jewish agricultural colony in Odessa district. Then in 1932 she moved to join me in Kiev and then in Alma-Ata. Further on, we didn’t have any contacts.

My sister had a son, Mika, born in 1925, who died at the front in 1943 during the crossing of the Dniepr River. She received a pension from Germany, for her killed son. Then I found out from literature that the division, with which he was crossing the Dniepr, was completely destroyed. And I found the burial place. He is buried in a mass grave, where all his comrades, young guys, are lying. I saw the inscriptions on cast iron plates, the majority of the boys were born in 1925. As I found out from literature, three military academies were joined together and they made a combined division. This division was all lost. The cadets had no time to become lieutenants.

I had no friends outside of school. But, there was an exception. Two boys, the Vinokurs, in the neighboring house, didn’t go to school. A poor family, their father was killed by gangsters. Their mother became a widow. They lived in a basement room. I went to see them sometimes. They were two talented boys. One of them could draw very well. In what way their further life worked out, I don’t know. I was friends with them, came to their house, although we didn’t play any games. We only talked. They read a lot. They were literally self-educated boys. And the first Russian novel they gave me to read was a novel by Zagoskin [Mikhail Zagoskin, 1789-1852, a famous Russian writer and historian]. I can’t remember the title. We read, talked, walked. We probably discussed what we read. But most importantly, I perfectly remember, there never was a bad word or abusive language. Recently I passed by a school, and two schoolboys were swearing. It was impossible in our time.

There never were any toys for boys or girls in our families. I didn’t do anything except for reading. For some reason our life was such, that from the first days spiritual things predominated. There was a different attitude to the material values. Certainly, they were appreciated. Everybody needs, say, clothes or footwear. We took care of these, too. I remember only one game we played. When we had a day off, we would collect stones, which were in abundance there, and make a wall out of them. You’d approach at twenty steps, also with a stone, and throw. This was our game.

Another game we played was ‘buttons.’ We played ‘buttons’ in Tyrlitsa. You dig a hole, and throw a button. And it should fall in the hole. If it doesn’t, you are supposed to drive it there with a flick. If you get the button in the hole with the first flick, it stays there. Then another boy throws. From a preset distance, five to six steps. And he, who is the quickest to get his button into the hole, wins and takes all the other buttons. We didn’t know any other games. And in general we were brought up in a serious way. Serious attitude to life. Life is not a game. When you are seven or eight years old, you should prepare for it thoroughly. They didn’t put it in exactly these terms, but in reality it was what they meant.

In Dashev at Misha Moldavansky’s place I learned croquet. That was the first time that I heard of the game. And I also learned checkers. In that settlement people were more competent, there was a hospital and a drugstore. I saw a real Chekist  18 there for the first time. While I am talking to you here, I clearly see the following picture: I’m coming home from school, and there’s an open carriage rushing towards me – a horse cart, pulled by a pair of horses. In this cart sit Yashka Vozhnikovsky and Levkа Felsher, in military overcoats, with revolvers and rifles. They were returning at night from the neighboring village. Two Jews – Chekists. They were looking for someone there. I regarded them at one time with deep condemnation. Now I can’t condemn them, because they joined the ChK to fight against gangsters. It was later that the ChK started to hunt everybody down without distinction.

We were very close with our parents. We frequently sat down at one table, conversing on religious or domestic topics. Since 1924 I stopped visiting my parents, because they were deprived of their electoral rights, and were referred to as ‘lishentsy.’ I could even have been expelled from school for contacts with them. But I knew everything about them and they had news from me. However all this was done secretly.

It is difficult for the new generation to imagine how illiterate Komsomol leaders destroyed families in those years. They broke off the links of kin. Everything that was ‘class-alien’ was eliminated. A ‘lishenets’ meant that my father was deprived of electoral rights because he had been a small trader. There was such an official concept, that traders are parasites. I remember a book that I read. The author was a certain Nikstein, a Jewish surname. Later I found out that he was the son of a Warsaw banker. He had written a book, a brochure, on ‘who is who.’ I read it and learned that a trader was a parasite. And I was supposed to think of my father, who worked twelve hours a day, that he was a social parasite. And he was really deprived of civil rights. I was lucky to obtain a false reference about my social origin. Without this reference I wouldn’t have been admitted in any educational institution.

The first time I rode in an automobile was in Kiev, most likely in 1929. But I remember another fact from before. It was in about 1918. During a lesson the teacher shouts: all out! And we run outside and into the street. It appears that the teacher saw a car from the window: an automobile appeared in our village for the first time. He wanted us to see it. We ran out of the classroom and rushed after that car. The car was an open one. The driver pulled over. We ran around it like wild, until it left the village. I rode a train for the first time in 1918 to the town of Vinnitsa to see the eye doctor. Father noticed that I was shortsighted, and from that time I wore glasses. I always spent vacations in the settlement among my friends.

The first time I went to a restaurant was when both my sons were students. I was walking with them along Nevsky Avenue, and dropped into a restaurant. I had no idea about restaurants before. But I can very well remember the hungry years. It was in the hungry year of 1932. On Sunday the students of the Jewish sector, boys, went to the quay on the Dniepr before six o’clock in the morning and loaded and unloaded steamships, until twelve at night. And for this we were given a loaf of rye bread.

I was a member of the Spartak youth society [1919-1922]. We were the first pioneers, called ‘spartakovtsy.’ I was even elected the chairman of a ‘spartakovtsy’ group. When I turned 16, I was recommended to enter the Komsomol. I didn’t want to. Why? I would have needed to tell everybody about my father – deprived of civil rights – and I didn’t want to tell lies. I thought it was a shame to lie. Well, there was a meeting to decide on who should be recommended to the Komsomol. And I was named. Well, I couldn’t turn it down. But I had a guilty conscience. How should I tell the truth about my father? And I was accepted and sent to the Vinnitsa regional Komsomol Committee for approval, and there the question didn’t even arise. I was the happiest man. God helped me; I didn’t have to deceive anybody.

At school we sang:

‘We will soon set off to fight for the Soviet Power
And we are all ready to die in this struggle!’

We were forced to sing this kind of filth. There were demonstrations in our town on 7th November 19 and 1st May, and at one of the demonstrations I was forced to make a speech and congratulate the participants on behalf of the school. As a student in Kiev I attended all demonstrations, it was obligatory.

My first workplace was at a cast iron factory belonging to a Jew by the name of Scherba. His daughter now lives in Leningrad. I worked for him as a laborer in a foundry shop. I needed work experience to enter a college. The following year I worked at my uncle’s mill, chopping firewood for the machine, and I acquired another year of labor experience. These two years helped me to enter the institute. I had two years of experience as a worker, and another two as a teacher at a Jewish school. Having five years of labor experience, I could enter an institute. And I was adopted with my false reference, which was issued to me by the secretary of the town council, a friend of mine, stating that my father had electoral rights. Without it I wouldn’t have been allowed to take examinations. But I lived in eternal fear that somebody would report on me.

From 1927 to 1929 I was a teacher at a Jewish school. In 1927, when I was 16, I went to the regional center Uman in Ukraine and passed examinations without attending lectures to be a teacher in elementary school. I received the certificate and came to the regional department of national education. I had an interview with the inspector for Jewish schools. This was the time of the revival of national cultures. He advised me to go to Yustingrad, a Jewish settlement not far from Uman, there was a school there. I was surprised that I had never heard about the place before, although I knew the vicinity very well. I found a cart man at the local market place in Uman to give me a ride to the settlement and the cart man first dropped me at a book-store where I bought some school books with the money provided by the inspector.

The place turned out to be even smaller than my native Tyrlitsa. A terrible massacre took place in Yustingrad in 1920, and only those who hid in the neighboring houses of Ukrainian peasants survived. For two years I lived in Yustingrad and shared a rented apartment with a Ukrainian teacher working in the same school. I was paid a good salary for those times, I got over 50 rubles with all bonuses, and I spent only ten rubles for boarding – accommodation and food. Until that time I was poor and miserable, and in Yustingrad I could afford to buy clothes and footwear and even send something to my parents. Later I bought a good suit and a coat and during winter vacations I went to Kiev to see the town and spent a nice time there, walking and sightseeing. I visited my relatives, too.

In 1929 I read in the Jewish newspaper ‘Shtern’ [Star] that a Jewish sector was soon to be opened at Kiev University. And I rushed there at once without any preparations. I passed all exams and was admitted to the Faculty of History and Economics. But I wasn’t qualified for receiving a state grant for the period of studies, because I lacked half a year of working experience. I had only four-and-a-half years, whereas one needed five. To obtain the grant I had to work as a porter at the doors of the university and it helped me very much in my studies – it was an easy job and I could just sit and scrutinize my textbooks in the porter’s room.

This was the first time when I discovered ‘The Capital’ by Karl Marx. Can you imagine what kind of feeling that was? A Jewish boy from a small settlement was for the first time holding the real legendary book by Marx! I was all trembling with agitation. Of course, I read all of it. In 1930 a new method of teaching was introduced in educational institutions – a ‘team and laboratory method.’ Students were divided into groups of four and used to prepare for lectures and examinations together. I was the team leader. We were to report to a professor and the team received marks as one student.

From 1929 to 1933 I was a student of the Jewish sector of Kiev University, the Faculty of History and Economics. There is one sad fact in my biography. When I was a student of the first year of the Jewish sector, the administration organized a meeting concerning the arrest of the ТКP group. ТКP was a peasant labor party, counting the best agricultural experts of Russia – Chayanov, Kondratiev 20 – among its members. Students of Western agricultural colleges still use their books for study.

So the meeting is going on, and professors and students are delivering speeches. And everyone demands execution, of course. I am sitting behind, in fear as always. My reference on social origin is a false one. And I see the secretary of the Communist Party Committee of the university approaching me. I was sure he didn’t know me, but I knew him. The secretary is the second official position after the rector. He comes up to me. ‘You were the teacher of the Jewish school in the settlement of Yustingrad?’ Well, I calmed down a little bit and I said, ‘Yes, I was.’ ‘You spoke at the meeting in the place of the execution of Jews, shot by Sokolov’s gang?’ I replied, ‘Yes, I did.’ ‘I was at that meeting and heard you speak.’ He took me by the hand and said, ‘Let’s go, now you will address the audience and talk against ТКP.’ And I went with him.

First, I feared that somebody would recognize me. Second, I was wondering what I could say about people, who I knew nothing about. He took me to the stage, where I was given a seat in the presidium. I didn’t want to look like a fool. I am thinking: I should say something. And I remembered the stupidest article in ‘Pravda’ newspaper. I read ‘Pravda,’ as I was interested in politics. But only for fear that politics would sometimes take me by surprise. And some bastard wrote in ‘Pravda’ that this peasant labor party came out against industrialization of the country. Ostensibly they proved that Russia could be heated with straw. And I’m losing my conscience. I am in confusion. The floor is given to a student of the first year of the Jewish sector, me. I step forward and I start to explain that the peasant labor party, illiterate, uneducated people, wanted to heat Russia with straw, and I was greeted by applause. I feel shame to this day. If I hadn’t been put in prison, I would have had to appear at such meetings more than once. One could do nothing about that.

After graduation I was recommended to enter the post-graduate courses of the Institute of the Jewish Culture at the Ukrainian Academy of Sciences. And there I passed candidate’s examinations 21 and wrote a thesis on the history of anti-Semitism in the Middle Ages. This thesis was recommended for defense in March 1936. But on 3rd March I was arrested. I was arrested by two Jews. And I was interrogated by three other Jews. And the reason for my arrest was my thesis. The question of the investigator Borisov – this is a pseudonym – was: ‘Who executed the first Jewish pogroms in the Middle Ages?’ I answered: ‘The crusaders.’ ‘And who were the crusaders?’ I am telling him, ‘Knights and peasants. ‘Oh, peasants? So you are a Trotskist! Lev Trotsky 22 considered peasants to be a reactionary class. You wanted to compromise them here.’

So, the Jewish sector of the university was closed, everyone was put into jail, the Institute of Jewish Culture was shut down. This was the end of Jewish science in Kiev. I spent the years from 1936 to 1941 in Vorkuta. We were making a glade in the woods for the future railroad and I worked in timber cutting. My comrades in the camp were Russians and Tartars and people of other nationalities. We had no national enmity whatsoever.

In exile

In 1937 my father and mother were exiled to Kurgan district, in the village of Chasha, and they remembered all their life, how the local population cared for them. They had no property. Only what was on them. Neighbors brought them a bed, a mattress, someone brought a pillow, another – a few potatoes. My parents remembered these people with big respect and gratitude. Father got a job as a watchman in an agricultural school. Fortunately, after one year the chief of the regional Internal Affairs department came to them and said: ‘You can return to Kiev, you are released from exile.’ Who did it, they didn’t know. They believed that it was the chief’s initiative. He treated them very warmly and attentively. And they returned to Kiev. They were evacuated from Kiev in 1941, when the war began. During the war our settlement Tyrlitsa was completely destroyed. I have been there twice since. There were two houses left. It is hard to think of it. And nobody survived.

From the camp, from Vorkuta, we were allowed to send censored letters every six months, and they performed a very strict accounting of that. I sent a letter every six months. But my parents hadn’t received any letters, and thought that I was dead. I was released from Vorkuta, and that was great luck, because with the beginning of the Finnish war 23 many prisoners wouldn’t be freed at all, and psychologically I was prepared for that. But I was lucky to get my freedom back. It was on 3rd March 1941.

In 1941 I came back to my parents in Tyrlitsa. We were all together exiled to the area of German settlements in Volga region, the village of Gusenbakh. When we came we were allowed to settle in any house! The place was empty, houses open, furniture, home utensils – everything in its place, as if the owners had just come out and would soon be back. Even potatoes remained undug in the kitchen gardens. No people at all except for the exiled like us. All Germans 24 were deported to Kazakhstan by then even without a chance to change clothes. And when the war began in summer 1941, they stopped releasing convicts at once. I returned to Kiev, but I didn’t stay there for long. I had article 39, ‘enemy of the people’ 25, in my passport, saying: ‘Without the right of residence in cities.’

After one year, in 1942, I was arrested again upon the accusation per the same article 39 – ‘enemy of the people’ – and exiled for lifetime to Kazakhstan. My parents remained in the German settlement area of Volga region. As a matter of fact, I had no serious incidents. Even in the prison camp, I enjoyed the warmest attitude from the brigade of porters, which consisted of the dispossessed men. I wouldn’t say that there existed any anti-Jewish, anti-Semitic laws that affected my family and me. The entire official system was such, all of it wasn’t very friendly. We tried to think about it as little as possible. Each of us did our own business, that’s all.

I found myself in the town of Akmolinsk in Kazakhstan for ‘lifetime settlement.’ I wanted to work. I found the regional department of people’s education and tried to find a job there. OBLONO [the regional department of national education] gave me an assignment to Stepnyak. An inspector filled in an assignment for me and I bought a ticket and reached Stepnyak. I didn’t want to work in a school. I didn’t even think of school at all, but if you weren’t going on business you weren’t given railway tickets, and I wanted to leave Akmolinsk as soon as possible. I worried about the possibility of being arrested again. I was scared to start teaching at school! I got used to cutting timber in the woods and working as a loader in the camp. I was very nervous.

In Stepnyak I went to work as a day laborer, in the direct sense of the word, to one party boss. I dug the kitchen garden for him, and chopped firewood, and brought water, and cleaned the toilet. Everybody called me ‘Dekhterenko’s hand.’ He gave me a room, not heated in winter, and a large sack of hay, on which I slept, and an old sheepskin coat, with which I covered myself. I lived in his house for one year. After I got married, we were given a separate room. Other teachers knew that I was exiled, but treated me very warmly, with much sympathy. And I am grateful to them all until today.

From 1942 to 1945 I taught German language in the Stepnyak school, at the same time working as a porter to stay physically fit. In 1942 I got acquainted with my future spouse at school. Lyuba, my future wife, was standing at a school window, that’s how I first saw her. It was love at first sight. Before the war I never thought of getting married, because I was fully occupied with my candidate’s thesis and started to work for a Doctor’s degree. I had already prepared my doctoral thesis, too, with all the materials on the topic ‘Entry of Italy into the First World War.’ The Jewish theme had already lost its urgency by then. You could feel friendship between individuals, not so much friendship between the peoples, however. But it seemed that the issue of anti-Semitism was losing its topicality.

I got married in 1943. My spouse’s name is Lyubov Kuzminichna Kirichenko, she was Russian. She was born in the village of Borovoye in 1918. Her father Kuzma Leontyevich Kirichenko was deprived of his property by the Soviets, and her family kept moving from place to place, afraid of the possible arrest of her father. Lyubov finished ten grades of secondary school, but in different schools for that reason. She finished school in Stepnyak in 1936 and that same year went to Moscow and entered the Physics Faculty of the Moscow Teachers College. She graduated from the institute in 1941. From 1940 to 1943 she worked as a teacher of Physics in different schools.

In our family we didn’t celebrate religious holidays. The father of my wife was an atheist. At first we lived with my wife’s father and later, starting from 1946, with my parents. I am happy to recollect how kind my wife was to my parents. And they literally adored her. In the synagogue father called her ‘tsadekes,’ ‘saint’ in Yiddish, when asked how he was getting on with his Russian daughter-in-law.

In Stepnyak I was friends with Kazakhs, Russians, Ukrainians and Germans, who were deported there. There was a Jewish family of the director of the Mechanical Factory. Certainly, I didn’t try to get acquainted with or visit him. He could be compromised by such an acquaintance. He was a good man, and he was also arrested during the so-called Doctors’ Plot 26 investigation. But he was quickly released, because workers respected him a great deal. When he was arrested, the workers, about 100 of them, tried to defend him as much as they could. And they succeeded. After the war I was on very good terms with the inhabitants of Stepnyak. And when we were leaving, they went out to see us off and were very sorry that we were moving away, and we were sorry, too. The attitude towards us was most friendly. I remember with gratitude the Russians, Ukrainians and Kazakhs.

In Rossosh I worked from 1945 until 1949. I lectured on the history of the Ancient World and Middle Ages at the Teachers Institute. It was there that I defended my doctor’s thesis ‘Entry of Italy into the First World War.’ In 1949 a commission from the regional party committee arrived and they attended my lectures together with the pro-rector Efremov, a remarkable man. After lectures they told Efremov that they were very pleased with my lectures. And at a meeting in the institute they declared that I advocated cosmopolitan ideas 27 at my lectures, and demanded that I be dismissed. Nobody of the institute’s staff supported them. I decided to resign in order not to let anybody down, and return to Stepnyak.

At night two militiamen took me to the state security building, the KGB 28, where I was interrogated, and during the interrogation a guard comes in and says, ‘There are some people there that want to talk to you.’ The guard remained with me, and the chief of the KGB went out to these people. He returned in ten minutes and asked, ‘What shall I do with you?’ I was surprised to hear such a question and said, ‘Give me an opportunity to take my family, my wife and two small children to her parents.’ He answered, ‘I’ll do that, but you promise to leave in the morning!’ It turned out, those were my students who came and asked not to let me go away…. But he released me, and I left that very day. It was the only time when I was persecuted and dismissed as a cosmopolitan. I never had any conflicts whatsoever for being a Jew.

My elder son Lev was born in Stepnyak in 1944. My second son Alexander, Sasha, was born in Rossosh in 1947. Lyuba, my wife, went to work in a school as soon as our children got older. During my whole life I had a rather modest income, so we lived very modestly but amicably. I have two children and a granddaughter, who is a non-believer, an atheist. From the first days of my sons’ conscious life my children knew that I was a Jew, and knew that I suffered from persecution. I tried as much as possible to tell them not only about my life, but also about the society, in which we lived.

Jewish culture is very close to them. They felt their Jewishness right after graduation from the institute. They couldn’t get a job. My younger son Sasha, having a diploma with only excellent marks, except for the History of the Communist Party, and being already an author of his first printed works, couldn’t find a job. He was unemployed for almost a year. All this is described in his novel ‘Confession of a Jew.’ My children very deeply felt and realized that their numerous problems with various officials were caused by their being Jewish. And I was working as a teacher by that time. I was not so much susceptible to such problems.

I remember one interesting fact. A personnel manager once came from the famous Arzamas-16, where they were working on atomic bombs. Her mission was to select the two best students of Leningrad University to work in Arzamas-16. They were asked to arrive at a certain place with their suitcases packed. When the guys arrived, my son was rejected. At the last minute they found out that his father was Jewish, moreover – a person subjected to repressions, and my son wasn’t hired. After that he had no occupation for half a year.

Both my sons had problems entering colleges, Lev less so, but Sasha had quite a hard time with that. In Stepnyak my elder son Lev had a friend, a Tartar. He went to Leningrad one year earlier than Lev and entered the university. Lev came to Leningrad in 1960 and passed examinations, too, but wasn’t admitted. But he applied to the Polytechnic Institute at once and successfully graduated from it. My younger son Sasha went to Moscow in 1965 to enter the Moscow State University, passed all examinations with best marks, but failed to find his name in the list of the admitted. Then he went to Leningrad to join Lev, and passed examinations to the Leningrad State University, the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics. Thus both my sons are mathematicians.

After rehabilitation 29, which was delayed three times, I worked, enjoying respect from colleagues and friends, until 1969, when I retired. I was refused rehabilitation three times because when they first arrested me I hadn’t signed any papers slandering anybody. They remembered that, and were now taking their revenge on me. In Belaya Tserkov [1958] I rented an apartment from one Jewish family, but didn’t stay there for long. After rehabilitation I had a right to return to Kiev and receive an apartment. But I didn’t do it. It is difficult to say why. I decided to remain in Kazakhstan and I moved to the city of Kustanai, to the Pedagogical Institute, where I taught History of the Ancient World. There was a good group of professors there, and I felt fine there and worked until my pension age.

Life under the communist regime

I believed in Marxism-Leninism, as in my childhood I believed in the Torah. I never trusted Stalin. The matter is, that I read a lot of old literature and knew, that Stalin was a worthless man, an adventurer. Besides, in the camp I frequently met an old Trotskist named Verap, mentioned by Solzhenitsyn 30 in ‘Gulag.’ In his time he gave a recommendation to join the Communist Party to such a major political figure as Beriya 31. Verap received 400 grams of bread in the camp, and I, as a porter, earned sometimes more than one kilo. He told me a lot of secret party intrigues. His stories about Stalin had fully convinced me that the man was a dull-witted political adventurer, an intriguer.

Besides, I used to read books known to few people nowadays. There was, for example, a brochure by Trotsky ‘The Lessons of October.’ In this brochure he reproaches Kamenev 32 and Zinoviev 33 for voting against the October revolution. Angered, they later helped Stalin to dismiss Trotsky. Then, when they began to criticize Stalin, the latter was supported by Bukharin, Rykov and Tomsky. Stalin managed simply to push away the shortsighted people. I knew about it very well from books that I read. Later, when I was rehabilitated, I went to Leningrad. I found minutes of party sessions in a library. They, too, helped me to clear up the situation of those times. I have written several articles based on these minutes.

I had never felt a bad attitude towards myself. At that time I lived in Kiev. In 1949 I was approached by an executive of the town party committee, Stanislav Grigorievich Ekimov, who confidentially warned me: ‘You will be dismissed from your job at school, let’s go with me. I will work as a secretary of the regional party committee in a village, 70 kilometers from here. I’ll give you a job in a school there.’

I went with him and we agreed that I would move to that village with my family. I was promised an apartment. The director of that school appeared to be a Jew. I asked him, ‘We have two small children, is there a doctor in this village?’ He answered, ‘We have not only a doctor, we have a professor of medicine! I mean a Jew from Hungary, who survived during Hitler’s occupation. He was hidden by the local doctors. Our Soviet troops arrested him and sent him to this village.’

But when I returned to get prepared for the move, my wife’s father advised us against it. He said, ‘If they decide to put you in jail, they will find you in any god-forsaken hole. Stay here. If you are arrested, Lyuba will remain with the children and with me.’ I stayed where I was, and I taught German and English languages in a school.

Once the head of regional department of education Iskakov came to our school and said that in the party meeting the chief of state security, Kosyanchuk, noted that I, ‘the blatant trotskist,’ was entrusted to teach party sciences: Geography – I taught it in the fifth grade – and Psychology! After that I refused to teach Psychology, though the director insisted that I continue. I proceeded to teach only foreign languages. Such was my persecution…

I continued to lecture at a free-of-charge optional course on pedagogical ethics. In 1982 we came across a possibility of changing our apartment for one in Vsevolozhsk. We wanted to be closer to our kids. So we changed our two rooms in Kustanai for one in Vsevolozhsk – in a communal apartment 34. We lived there until 1992, and then we moved to St. Petersburg.

After the war I didn’t go to the synagogue and didn’t celebrate holidays, however, I educated my sons on traditions, and how holidays were celebrated before. They know about my parents very well and remember them with respect. When we lived with my parents in Kazakhstan between 1946 and 1949, they observed all Jewish holidays. My kids saw all this and they liked it.

The happiest day in my life was a day in 1949, at the beginning of April. My family and I got off the train at the station of Makinka. Earlier, the rector of my institute told my wife, when she was receiving labor cards, ‘Your husband will be arrested on the way. What will you do with your two children? You can continue your work in the faculty, and I shall arrange for your children to be admitted to the kindergarten, please stay!’ But she wouldn’t even hear of that. ‘Well, then, remember that he will surely be arrested on the way! …’ he told her. All through the journey we feared that I would be arrested, but we reached our destination safely. I came out, the sun was shining. My God, how happy I was! Now, I was thinking, you can arrest me whenever you want. My wife will be already in the family of my father, who won’t abandon her. Our elder son was four years old, the younger one was one year old then.

The death of Stalin in 1953 was a celebration for me. My wife was forced to stand as a guard of honor near his portrait, and I passed by her smiling secretly and rejoicing, because her family suffered from Stalinist repressions as well.

Approximately half of my friends were Jews. My closest friends were Moisha Shapiro and Moidansky, the two authors of the Jewish dictionary. They are my most valued friends. In Kiev I hardly had any other friends, except for a few in the Jewish post-graduate courses. And I should tell you that in the Jewish sector of the Kiev University and in the Institute of the Jewish Culture we had the warmest, friendly relations.

After a while the dictatorship had weakened, it was indisputable. This showed in radio and television programs and in the press. At last I was able to receive books in the library, which they wouldn’t give me earlier. For years I was trying to obtain a book by Professor Shtif, who taught Hebrew in the Jewish sector. And I couldn’t get it. They refused under all kinds of pretexts. I kept all of their refusal letters. Once I came to the library again and out of curiosity filed in just another request. At last I was given this book. It helped me very much to gain an understanding of the history of pogroms. It describes only Denikin’s pogroms. And I collected materials on the archives of ‘АRА.’ I have them partly typed by my deceased wife, partly in manuscripts. In particular, I have in manuscripts two valuable works on the history of Jews written by the professors Loktev and Usov. One interesting thing about these books is that they depict the very significant role of Jews in the development of industry and trade in Russia. In spite of what Dostoevsky 35 wrote.

We reacted with much compassion to the wars of Israel of 1967 and 1973. The break of diplomatic relations between the USSR and Israel didn’t touch me personally, but I was worried about those who lived there. I read books about first pioneers in Palestine even before the declaration of the state of Israel 36. It was a heroic work. It is hard to imagine: mountains, bogs. The youth from all over Europe gathered to create this paradise. Their enormous labor created everything, even before the foundation of the state of Israel.

I can very well remember my friends, who left for Israel and for the West. I welcomed their emigration, was very happy for them. But I myself was too old, and it was senseless to leave. I had no plans of emigration. I didn’t even think of it. It would have been an absolutely different atmosphere for me. My sister Sita, as we called her, emigrated with her Jewish husband Zalman or Zema Ryadko for permanent residence in Israel in the 1980s. At first they lived in a hostel and then they were provided with an apartment. We regularly corresponded with her.

She married Zema through matchmakers in 1925 and I was sure that her marriage with him would be a lasting one. I was 15 years old then. Zalman was a small trader. He died in Israel not long after their arrival. Sita lived with her daughter in Rehovot; I can’t remember her name. The daughter was born in 1930, an engineer, graduated from Odessa Flour-milling institute, calls me sometimes, she is now 71. Sita’s elder son died at the front near the Dnieper River in Kirovograd region. She received a good pension for him from Germany. 

My wife Lyubov died in 1997. She had two strokes and she gave up. We lived in Novosibirskaya Street. After that Lev took me to live with him and now I’m staying with his family. My granddaughter Alya lives here, too, she is a student of the Polytechnic Institute, 19 years of age, and my Russian daughter-in-law, Lena. I have very good relations with all of them, but Alya is taking the best care of me. Lena works at school and previously she was employed in the Institute of Space.

I am writing articles on Jews and Jewish history. Here are the titles of some of them: ‘The day of national madness,’ ‘Is it fair to be proud of your nation?’ on national modesty, ‘A month’s work under the motto ‘Jew’,’ ‘On Jewish pogroms,’ ‘Reflections on national issues’ and hundreds of others. Besides, every day I fill in my diaries with what is happening in the world. I don’t stay idle a single day. You see, I am a man from the generation crushed by the world revolution, that’s why my religious life as a Jew came to an end with the establishment of the Soviet Power, as of millions of other Jews. My children don’t attend the synagogue, don’t celebrate Jewish holidays or observe any traditions. They don’t know Hebrew and live secular lives.

I haven’t ever left the borders of the Soviet Union. First, I was prohibited from trips abroad for a long time. And when it became possible to travel, I already was an old man. I corresponded with my sister Peisya-Ita in Israel and with my niece. I could contact them only from time to time. I had an uncle in the USA, and after the war my father received a letter from him through Rostov, asking Father to send his address. Father told us nothing, and wrote to Rostov asking them to answer that they hadn’t found him. Father was afraid. If you had relatives abroad, you could be easily dismissed from work.

The beginning of democratization in the Soviet Union in 1989 was perceived by us with infinite pleasure. We must thank Gorbachev 37 that he undertook the whole business, although pseudo-patriots condemn him for it. Besides, libraries became more open. A lot of publications were released from special enclosed book archives. The most valuable book that I came across was Albert Schweitzer’s ‘Culture and Ethics,’ it had finally superseded the remains of Marxism in me. The basic thesis of Schweitzer is reverence before life.

I am very grateful to the employees of Hesed 38, the place that has become a home for me. I continue to work on the history of Jews. I have always worked on this topic since I retired. I have written an extensively documented history of Jews, containing 990 pages by now. I am looking for a co-author, who could help me finalize it. I offered that to several people, they agreed, but nobody really responded, and I have no habit of pushing people. Besides, I am an author of about two dozen articles written on the history of Jews from ancient time. Some of them are published in the newspaper ‘Ami.’ Hesed helps me very much. From Hesed I receive both humanitarian and psychological help and support. I also received help from the society of rehabilitated citizens, of which I am a member. They handed over to me several parcels with canned food. But that was quite some time before, about eight years ago. I myself don’t really get out of my apartment anymore now.

Glossary:


1 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.

2 Pogroms in Ukraine

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

3 Russian stove: Big stone stove stoked with wood. They were usually built in a corner of the kitchen and served to heat the house and cook food. It had a bench that made a comfortable bed for children and adults in wintertime.

4 Stolypin, Peter (1862-1911), a prominent state figure

In 1903-1906, as the governor of Saratov, supervised over suppression of peasants' riots in the area during the Revolution of 1905-07. From 1906 - Minister of Internal Affairs and Chairman of the Council of Ministers. Initiator of application of court martial in the struggle with revolutionary movement (‘shooting justice’). In 1907-11 developed governmental policies and started the so-called ‘Stolypin agrarian reform.’ Under Stolypin's management a series of important government bills, including the reform of local self-management, introduction of obligatory elementary education, liberal attitude towards religion were adopted. In 1907 Stolypin succeeded in dissolution of the Second State Duma and introduced a new election law essentially strengthening the positions of right-wing parties. Lethally wounded by terrorist D. G. Bogrov.

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 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.

7 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.

8 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread 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.

9 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.

10 Cantonist

The cantonists were Jewish children who were conscripted to military institutions in tsarist Russia with the intention that the conditions in which they were placed would force them to adopt Christianity. Enlistment for the cantonist institutions  was most rigorously enforced in the first half of the 19th century. It was abolished in 1856 under Alexander II. Compulsory military service for Jews was introduced in 1827. Jews between the age of 12 and 25 could be drafted and those under 18 were placed in the cantonist units. The Jewish communal authorities were obliged to furnish a certain quota of army recruits. The high quota that was demanded, the severe service conditions, and the knowledge that the conscript would not observe Jewish religious laws and would be cut off from his family, made those liable for conscription try to evade it. Thus, the communal leaders filled the quota from children of the poorest homes.

11 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.

12 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.

13 Famine in Ukraine

In 1920 a deliberate famine was introduced in the Ukraine causing the death of millions of people. It was arranged in order to suppress those protesting peasants who did not want to join the collective farms. There was another dreadful deliberate famine in 1930-1934 in the Ukraine. The authorities took away the last food products from the peasants. People were dying in the streets, whole villages became deserted. The authorities arranged this specifically to suppress the rebellious peasants who did not want to accept Soviet power and join collective farms.

14 Rashi

Full name: Rabbi Shlomo Yitzaki (1040-1105). He was one of the greatest Bible scholars in Jewish history. His commentaries on the Torah and the Talmud are indispensable for those interested in studying Jewish literature. He was born in Troyes (France), and studied in the two famous yeshivot of the time, in Mainz and Worms (today Germany). In 1070 he founded a school that made France the center of rabbinic sciences for a very long period. This school gave room, among others, to his sons-in-law and grandsons, who were also renowned Bible scholars and founded the Tosaphist School, and their commentaries are an organic part of any Talmud edition today. Rashi wrote commentaries on almost every scripture book, and commented almost the entire Babylonian Talmud. His commentaries had such importance that the first book printed in Hebrew was made on basis of these commentaries. The letters used for this purpose have been called Rashi letters since then. According to tradition, he died while writing the word 'tahor' (pure) in the commentary he was writing on the Talmud Makkot tractate. He died on 29th Tammuz; the location of his grave is unknown.

15 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.

16 Denikin, Anton Ivanovich (1872-1947)

White Army general. During the Russian Civil War he fought against the Red Army in the South of Ukraine.

17 ARA (American Relief Administration)

After the Revolution of 1917, the ensuing Civil War produced acute food shortages in southwestern Russia. By 1920 it was clear that a full-scale famine was under way. In early 1920 the Soviet government sent out a worldwide appeal for food aid to avert the starvation of millions of people. Although it had not officially recognized the Soviet regime, the United States government was pressed from many sides to intervene, and in August 1920 an informal agreement was negotiated to begin a famine relief program. Congress authorized $20 million, and the American Relief Administration (ARA) was set up to do the job. After Soviet officials agreed, hundreds of American volunteers were dispatched to oversee the program. The ARA distributed thousands of tons of grain, as well as clothing and medical supplies. ARA aid continued into 1923.

18 ChK (full name VuChK)

All-Russian Emergency Commission of struggle against counter revolution and sabotage; the first security authority in the Soviet Union established per order of the council of people's commissars dated 7 December 1917. Its chief was Felix Dzerzhynskiy. In 1920, after the Civil War, Lenin ordered to disband it and it became a part of the NKVD.

19 October Revolution Day

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

20 At the end of the 1920s Stalin put forward the slogan on the possibility of achieving socialism in one separate country

1928 became the year of resolute shifts in internal policy: elimination of the NEP, accelerated industrialization, collectivization of agricultural farming, cultural revolution. This troubled period of the Soviet history is stained by numerous repressions and persecutions. To distract the attention of the population from deterioration of life, political investigations of the representatives of ‘old intellectuals’ were organized with accusations of sabotage. The NKVD inspired the lawsuit on the Industrial Party. This entire case was a provocation. The main figure of the suit, Professor Ramzin, was an agent of the NKVD. As the result of the trial a large group of engineering and technical experts was repressed. The legal action against the Agricultural Party resulted in the execution of a prominent agricultural scientist, Chayanov, and an outstanding economist, Kondratiev. Another fabricated suit was against the Academy of Sciences, when dozens of scientists were persecuted. Recognized scientists and experienced experts were replaced by uneducated parvenus from ‘the bottom classes.’ In this way the ‘national’ intelligentsia, fully devoted to the ruling regime was formed. After the assassination of Kirov in 1934 repressions acquired an improbable scope. 1934-1938 became the period of the so-called ‘Great Terror’ that affected all strata of the population.

21 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.

22 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.

23 Soviet-Finnish War (1939-40)

The Soviet Union attacked Finland on 30 November 1939 to seize the Karelian Isthmus. The Red Army was halted at the so-called Mannengeim line. The League of Nations expelled the USSR from its ranks. In February-March 1940 the Red Army broke through the Mannengeim line and reached Vyborg. In March 1940 a peace treaty was signed in Moscow, by which the Karelian Isthmus, and some other areas, became part of the Soviet Union.

24 German ASSR

Established as Labour Commune of Volga Germans or Volga German AO within the Russian SFSR on 19th October 1918. Transformed into Volga German ASSR on 19th December 1924, abolished on 28th August 1941. The official state name was Autonomous Socialist Soviet Republic of the Volga-Germans. The city of Engels is the former capital of the Volga-German Republic.

25 Enemy of the people

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

26 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.

27 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.'

28 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.

29 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.

30 Solzhenitsyn, Alexander (1918-2008)

Russian novelist and publicist. He spent eight years in prisons and labor camps, and three more years in enforced exile. After the publication of a collection of his short stories in 1963, he was denied further official publication of his work, and so he circulated them clandestinely, in samizdat publications, and published them abroad. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1970 and was exiled from the Soviet Union in 1974 after publishing his famous book, The Gulag Archipelago, in which he describes Soviet labor camps.

31 Beriya, L

P. (1899-1953): Communist politician, one of the main organizers of the mass arrests and political persecution between the 1930s and the early 1950s. Minister of Internal Affairs, 1938-1953. In 1953 he was expelled from the Communist Party and sentenced to death by the Supreme Court of the USSR.

32 Kamenev, Lev Borisovich (1883-1936)

Soviet communist leader, member of the first Politburo of the Communist Party after the Revolution of 1917. After Lenin's death in 1924, Zinoviev, Kamenev, and Stalin formed a ruling triumvirate and excluded Trotsky from the Party. In 1925 Stalin, in an effort to consolidate his own power, turned against Zinoviev and Kamenev, who then joined Trotsky's opposition. Kamenev was expelled from the Party in 1927, but he recanted, was readmitted, and held minor offices. He was arrested in 1934 accused of complicity in the murder of Kirov and was imprisoned. In 1936 he, Zinoviev, and 13 old Bolsheviks were tried for treason in the first big public purge trial. They confessed and were executed.

33 Zinoviev, Grigory Evseyevich (1883-1936)

Soviet communist leader, head of the Comintern (1919-26) and member of the Communist Party Politburo (1921-26). After Lenin's death in 1924, Zinoviev, Kamenev, and Stalin formed a ruling triumvirate and excluded Trotsky from the Party. In 1925 Stalin, in an effort to consolidate his own power, turned against Zinoviev and Kamenev, who then joined Trotsky's opposition. Zinoviev was removed from his party posts in 1926 and expelled from the Party in 1927. He recanted and was readmitted in 1928 but wielded little influence. In 1936, he, Kamenev, and 13 old Bolsheviks were tried for treason in the first big public purge trial. They confessed and were executed..

32 Communal apartment

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

33 Dostoevsky, Fyodor (1821-1881)

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

34 Balfour Declaration

British foreign minister Lord Balfour published a declaration in 1917, which in principle supported the establishment of a Jewish homeland in Palestine. At the beginning, the British supported the idea of a Jewish national home, but under the growing pressure from the Arab world, they started restricting Jewish immigration to Palestine. However, underground Jewish organizations provided support for the illegal immigration of Jews. In 1947 the United Nations voted to allow the establishment of a Jewish state and the State of Israel was proclaimed in May 1948.

35 Gorbachev, Mikhail (1931- )

Soviet political leader. Gorbachev joined the Communist Party in 1952 and gradually moved up in the party hierarchy. In 1970 he was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, where he remained until 1990. In 1980 he joined the politburo, and in 1985 he was appointed general secretary of the party. In 1986 he embarked on a comprehensive program of political, economic, and social liberalization under the slogans of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). The government released political prisoners, allowed increased emigration, attacked corruption, and encouraged the critical re-examination of Soviet history. The Congress of People’s Deputies, founded in 1989, voted to end the Communist Party’s control over the government and elected Gorbachev executive president. Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party and granted the Baltic States independence. Following the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991, he resigned as president. Since 1992, Gorbachev has headed international organizations.

36 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.

Vereckei Lászlóné

Életrajz

Vereckei Lászlóné (Marika) egyedül él a nyolcadik kerület, egykori Tisztviselő elepén. Lakása nagyon tiszta, és rendezett, a szobák elegáns stílbútorokkal vannak berendezve. Számtalan tárgy emlékeztet zsidóságára, az ajtó mellett háziáldás, a konyha polcán menóra a családi gyűjteményből, szédertál az asztalon. A könyvespolcon az orvosi könyvek mellett számos Izraellel és a zsidósággal kapcsolatos könyv is megtalálható. Marika nagyon kedves asszony. Reggeli találkozásaink alkalmával meleg illatos pogácsával és teával várt, igen nagy kedvességgel. Nagyon nagy pontossággal és bizalommal segítette az interjú elkészítését. A családi írásos és fotó hagyaték, amit nagy gondossággal őriz, nagymértékben segítette a család történetének még alaposabb megismerését.

A családom történetén gondolkodva, azon tűnődtem, hogy mindegyiknek az élete olyan jellemző volt, a magyar és közép-európai zsidóságra. Zsidónak és egyben magyarnak tartották magukat, és amikor hadba kellett menni, a férfiak fentartások nélkül vonultak be katonának. A magyar hazáért harcoltak, és pl. a trianoni békeszerződés hatása, őket is szomorúsággal töltötte el. Szinte mindenki a családból kereskedő lett, és a nők is tevékenyen részvettek az egzisztencia megteremtésében.

Az apai nagyszüleimről csak a családi emlékezet útján tudok mesélni, mert mindkét nagyszülőm jóval születésem előtt meghalt. Mivel a család igen erősen őrizte a családi történeteket, így én is sok mindent hallottam a szüleimtől, az apai nagyszüleimről.

Az apai nagyapámat Goldgruber Sámuelnek hívták. A Tolna megyei Pakson [Paksra a német telepítésekkel egy időben érkeztek az ortodox zsidó hitközség alapítói, akik cseh, lengyel és német területekről, valamint 48 magyarországi helységből származtak. A város földesurai ingyen bocsátottak telket a rendelkezésükre, zsinagóga, kórház, fürdőház és temető céljára. A 19. század végé a lakosság csaknem 12 %- a volt ortodox zsidó, Bonyhád mellett Paks lett a megyei zsidóság központja. - A szerk] született 1836-ban. Nem tudom, mikor került Pálfára, de az élete nagy részét ott élte le. Arra már nem emlékszem, hogy hányan voltak testvérek. Magyar zsidónak tartotta magát. Az 1848-as szabadságharcban tevékenyen részt vett. A magyar haza iránti hűség és tisztelet egyébként az egész családban jellemző volt, később apám is boldogan vett részt mindkét világháborúban. A magyar zsidók a Habsburgok alatt igen nagy szabadságot élveztek. Nagyapám, neológ vallású volt, mint a Goldgruberek általában. Járt templomba, pénteken gyertyát gyújtott, és a nagyobb ünnepeket megtartotta.

A nagypapának volt egy kocsmája és egy mészárszéke Pálfán. A kocsma az csak addig létezett, amíg nagyapám élt, 1907-ig. Akkor halt meg, ott Pálfán 71 éves korában, tüdőgyulladásban. Az Arany János utcában laktak, és a saját házában volt a kocsma és a mészárszék is. Amikor meghalt, a kocsma megszűnt, és az Áron nevű fia örökölte meg, és vitte tovább a mészárszéket. Azt nem tudom, hogy mekkora zsidó közösség élt Pálfán, de imaház az volt, zsinagóga az nem. A nagypapát nagyon szerették a faluban. Azt tudom, hogy mindenkivel jóban volt, a gyerekeket nagyon szerette, és mesélt a szabadságharcos élményeiről. Obsitos történeteket mesélt általában. Szép magas ember volt, szőke hajjal. Nem hordott kipát, pajesza sem volt. 

Klein Amáliát vette feleségül 1867-ben, ő volt az én apai nagymamám. A nagymamám is Pakson született 1846-ban, és Pálfán halt meg 1918 körül. Az esküvő még Pakson volt. Mindketten Pakson laktak, később kerültek Pálfára. Annak ellenére, hogy Pakson jelentős ortodox közösség élt, mégis a pálfai nagymama, szintén neológ volt, akárcsak nagyapám. Szigorúan háztartásbeli volt, időnként a kocsmában és a mészárszékben segítkezett a nagypapának. Hat gyereke volt, akik mellett nem igazán volt ideje a háztartáson kívüli munkára. Mikor a férje meghalt, ő vette át fiaival a mészárszék irányítását, és így aktívan bekapcsolódott, a mészárszék munkájába. Otthon kóser háztartást vezetett. Ez azt jelentette, hogy nem ettek disznóhúst, sakternél vágatták a baromfit, és általában a húsokat. Nem keverték a zsírost a tejessel. Cselédlányt is tartottak, mert szombaton nem gyújtottak lámpát. Mindig volt olyan falubeli lány, aki segített nekik. Ez nem a klasszikus értelemben vett cselédkedés volt, mint ami pl. Budapesten volt divat a második világháborút megelőzően. Nem aludtak például ott a háznál, hanem aki éppen ráért a faluból, és már ismerték, az jött segíteni. Abból nem volt gond, hogy kóser háztartást kellett vezetni, megtanulták azt a parasztlányok. Az ünnepeket mindig megtartották. A szombatot például, amikor nem gyújtottak lámpát. A sátoros ünnepeket is ünnepelték, ilyenkor csináltak sátrat Pálfán, az udvaron. A nagypapa és a fiai építették fel a sátrat. Házi áldás is volt a bejárati ajtófélfán. Nálunk is volt Pesten, a háború előtt, amikor én gyerek voltam. Én már azonban csak a mészárszéket ismertem.

A pálfai ház egy nagy, tornácos ház volt. Anyámék a nagyszülők halála után is rendszeresen jártak le Pálfára, hiszen nagyon sok rokon élt ott 1944-ig. Így voltam én is jó párszor anyámékkal, ezért tudok a házról is mesélni. Amikor levittek anyámék kiskoromban, nem volt villany, hanem petróleumlámpával világítottak. A tornáchoz két lépcső vezetett fölfelé. A kocsma akkor már nem volt meg, csak a mészárszék működött. Az volt az érdekes ebben a mészárszékben, hogy nem volt kóser. Én úgy tudom, hogy ennek semmi különösebb oka nem volt. Ez természetes volt nekik. A nagypapa idejében nem vagyok teljesen biztos abban, hogy nem volt-e kóser, csak azt, hogy később már biztos nem volt az. A disznóhúst is feldolgozták Azért olyan nagy disznóvágás persze nem volt ott, az is biztos. A háború után viszont, már isteni hurkákat és kolbászokat csináltak az én unokatestvéreim is. Azt gondolom, hogy ha kóser lett volna a mészárszék, nem lett volna nagy a forgalmuk, a helyiek nem vásároltak volna tőlük.

Hátul voltak a mellékhelységek és a szobák. Elöl volt a bolt. Volt a boltnak felirata, de már nem tudom a nevét. A nagypapa árult, nem ő dolgozta fel a húst. Voltak segédei, később pedig a fiai segítettek, a hús feldolgozásánál. A segédek is zsidók voltak. Korábban, a kocsma is elöl volt. A nagyapám idejében a kocsma és a mészárszék párhuzamosan működött, és a mészárszék volt a „kisebb”. WC, fürdőszoba természetesen nem volt, csak kinti WC. Mosókonyha volt a ház hátsó részén, ott volt lehetőség a fürdésre. Volt egy kád, és abban mosakodtunk, meg persze teknőben. Hallottam a régiektől, és mi is még így csináltuk, hogy lavórban mosakodtak. Egyszer egy héten mindig. Pénteken volt a rituális tisztálkodásnak mondott tisztálkodás, a mikvében. A nagypapa járt rendszeresen. A nagymamának is ugye kellett, mert anyám nővére nagyon vallásos volt. Nem valószínű, hogy volt Pálfán mikve, de Pakson biztos volt. A nagymama nem hordott parókát, kontyban hordta a haját, és kendővel bekötötte, amikor imádkoztak például. Én már nem nyaraltam náluk, hanem minden évben lementünk oda jahrzeit-kor, Jóm Kippur előtt. Anyáméknál nagy divat volt, az ún. kever avot, ami a meghalt elődök sírlátogatását jelentette. Minden évben a halottakért imádkoztunk ilyenkor. Lementünk néha, Új év előtt is. A pálfai nagyszülők magyarul beszéltek, de tudtak németül is.

Hat gyerekük született: Bernát, Áron, Berta, Hermina, Eszter, Simon. Korban is így következtek egymás után. Bernát volt a legidősebb, majd Áron következett. Utána született Berta, majd Hermina. Utána Eszter és végül Simon. Az apám Goldgruber Simon, volt a legfiatalabb. Áron és Bernát ottmaradtak Pálfán, a többiek fölkerültek Budapestre.

Goldgruber Bernát ott maradt Pálfán. Kereskedő lett. A feleségét nem tudom, hogy hívták, de mindkettőjüket deportálták és meghaltak. Volt egy fiuk, aki följött Budapestre, Gonda Sándornak hívták, és volt egy lányuk is, akit szintén deportáltak. A nevére nem emlékszem.

Goldgruber Áron vitte tovább a pálfai mészárszéket.  Az Áron felesége egy Teréz nevű igen különleges zsidó lány volt, egy rabbi lánya. Nem volt szép, de nagyon okos volt. Őket biztos sadhenolták. Rendkívül művelt volt, remekül beszélt németül. Nem tudom pontosan, hogy hova valósi volt, csak sejtem, hogy simontornyai volt. Áron elég primitív volt hozzá. Szült három gyereket neki. Dezső (Dolli), Sanyi, és Lajos volt a nevük. A Sanyi örökölte a házat később. Közülük a Dolli volt nagyon értelmes, ő örökölte anyjától ezt a jó eszességet. Nem volt családja. Később egy állami üzletben dolgozott, mint szervező.

A Lajos viszont jó asztalos lett. Keresztény felesége volt, és két lányuk született. A lányai még élnek itt Magyarországon, mert az egyik korábban élt Németországban.

Teréz néni nagyon helytállt, annak ellenére, hogy ez a vidéki élet nem neki való volt. Rendkívül művelt, városias asszony volt. Ezt a három fiút, nagyon nehezen tudta kordában tartani, és nem tudta őket iskolába járatni. Érdekes, hogy nem a vallás volt nála az amit megtartott, hanem a műveltség. Neológ rabbi volt a papája. Azt nem tudom, hogy hol volt a rabbi. Őket deportálták, csak a két fiú élte túl, Dolli és Lajos.

Sándor, nem tudott igazán szakmát választani. Apám nagyon szerette, mert nagyon dolgos volt, és nyitott neki egy kocsmát később, Budapesten a 9. kerületben. Tudott kapni iparengedélyt 1936-ban, még a zsidó törvények előtt. Itt volt egy évig, és kitanulta a szakmát, és nagyon szépen ment az üzlet. Elvett egy zsidó lányt 1938-ban, nekik is kocsmájuk volt Kispesten, mármint a szülőknek. Később föladták ezt az üzletet, és nyitottak Kispesten egy másikat. Jöttek a 40-es évek.  Nem igazán ment a bolt, és úgy döntöttek, hogy vissza mennek Pálfára. És hazamentek Pálfára, hogy meghaljanak, onnan deportálták őket.

Goldgruber Eszter férjhez ment egy Berger nevű textilkereskedőhöz. Nagyon jómódú lett, már itt Budapesten. Őket is valószínűleg sadhenolták. A férje is vidéki volt, úgy jöttek fel együtt Budapestre. Jellemző egyébként az egész Goldgruber családra, hogy akkor lettek igazi kereskedők, amikor a fővárosba kerültek. A Nefelejcs utcában vettek házat. Ott akkor már volt egy textilraktár, és tulajdonképpen textil nagykereskedők lettek. Két gyerekük született. Az egyik meghalt a Rebeka, nagyon szép lány volt. A másik volt a Tibor, aki most halt meg. Ő műanyag feldolgozással foglalkozott. Lánya orvos lett, és kiment Izraelbe.

A Goldgruber Hermina az egy Kaufmann Albert nevezetű fiúhoz ment férjhez, akinek ajtó, ablak és épületfaanyag raktára és házbontási vállalata volt, az V. ker. Ügynök utca 28-ban.  Volt egy lánya Aranka. Noe Ervin volt a férje, és a Fiumei úton laktak.

Goldgruber Berta férjhez ment, egy Breier Ferenc nevű férfihoz. Az 1930-as években igen nehezen tudtak megélni, és Feri bácsi sokmindennel foglakozott, hogy el tudja a családot tartani. Volt rövidáru ügynök, öveket, zoknikat, férfi nadrágtartókat árult. Dolgozott egy cupringer irodában is, ahol cselédeket közvetített ki házakhoz, majd könyvügynök is lett. Két gyerekük született. A Sanyi, aki a Corvin Áruháznak volt a vezetője, és a Bözsi, aki férjhez ment egy Schwartz nevezetűhöz. Ingatlantulajdonosok voltak, ebből éltek.

Apám volt Goldgruber Simon Wolf, aki 1889-ben született Pálfán. 1945-ben változtatta meg a nevét Gömörire. Apámnak szőke bajsza és szemöldöke, zöld szeme, és fekete haja volt. Igen jó katona hírében állt. Apámat behívták katonának, és az első világháborút végigszolgálta. 1909- 1910 tartalékos törzsőrmester volt a 69. gyalogezrednél. 1910- 1913 között tényleges katonai szolgálatot, 1914-1918 között pedig hadiszolgálatot teljesített. Harcolt Piavén, és az orosz fronton is. Nagyon sok kitüntetésben részesült, például ezüst vitézségi érem, bronz vitézségi érem, vasérdem keresztkoronával, Károly csapat kereszt és sebesülési érem. Az első világháború alatt két ízben megsebesült, 1914-ben és 1916-ban. Különböző kórházakban illetve a 69. ik gyalogezred üdülőjében gyógykezelték. Isorzónál nagy sebesülést kapott. Úgy volt, hogy a lábát le kell amputálni. Meg is maradt ott egy nagy mély nyom a lábán. Lövést kapott, és akkor azt mondta, hogy ő öngyilkos lesz ha amputálják a lábát. Kérte, hogy próbálják meg kivenni a golyót, mert nagyon gennyes volt a seb. Apám még az Osztrák-magyar Monarchiában, nagyon jól megtanult németül. Többször mesélte, hogy jókat derült azon, hogy a faluból elvitt, katonának besorozott fiúk, az istennek sem tudtak megtanulni németül. Ő a katonaságnál viszont igen.

A Goldgruber testvérek közül a fiúk, mind kitanulták a kocsmáros és mészáros mesterségeket. Nem volt erre iskola, hanem elszegődtek egy-egy kocsmáros vagy mészáros mellé segédnek, és így tanultak bele a szakmába. Persze otthon nagyapámtól is tanultak egy csomó mindent. Az összes fiútestvér, kereskedő lett tulajdonképpen. Az Áron ugye mészáros lett, apám meg kocsmáros. Apám isteni fejszámoló volt, ez egy adottság volt nála, és lenézte azokat, akik erre nem voltak képesek. Végigszolgálta az első világháborút, és közben megismerkedett anyámmal. Anyám nővére Pálfára ment férjhez, egy textilkereskedőhöz, úgyhogy ők tulajdonképpen ott ismerkedtek meg. A háború alatt, nagyon aggódott anyám érte. Amikor visszajött összeházasodtak 1919-ben. Együtt jöttek már föl Pestre Pálfáról, de még ott ismerkedtek össze

Hogy a nagyszüleimet sadhenolták-e, azt nem tudom. A Schiller nagymamát nem kellett sadhenolni, mert ő egy nagyon talpraesett ember volt, mindig tudta, hogy mit akar. Nekem az az érzésem, hogy a mamámat sem sadhenolták, de biztos vagyok benne, hogy a többi Schiller lányt viszont igen, mert egyik sem helybéli fiúval jött össze.

Az anyai nagymamám Schiller Vilmosné Kohn Regina, aki 1850-ben született, 16 évesen férjhez ment Csornára egy idősebb kocsmároshoz. Őt Schlesinger?- hívták. Nagyanyám kitűnő háziasszony volt, és segített is neki a kocsmában, és szült neki három gyereket. Schlesinger Károly, Hermina, és Júlia volt a nevük. A Schlesinger nagypapa korán meghalt, és nagymamám újra férjhez ment nagyapámhoz, Schiller Vilmoshoz, aki 1855-ben született Süttörön [Süttör, Sopron vm., kapuvári járás, 203 ház, 1341 magyar lakos, katolikus.- A szerk.] Ő a győri malomnál dolgozott, főkönyvelő volt. A malom pénzügyi dolgait csinálta tulajdonképpen. Üzleti ügyekben utazott is pl. Boszniába. Liszttel kereskedett. Három gyerekkel vette el nagyanyámat, és utána nagyanyám még szült hét gyereket. A második házasságból született: Arnold, Jenő, Viktória, Lenke, Blanka, Antal, Lajos. A Schiller nagymamát 93 éves korában deportálták Győrből, Bergen-Belsenbe. Valahol útközben meghalt. A nagymamám volt egyébként, a család krónikása, mert ő mindent tudott és számontartott a családról.

A győri nagypapa az meghalt mielőtt én születtem volna, 1928-ban. Ő is neológ volt. Tartotta az ünnepeket, zsinagógába is járt Győrbe. Nem hordott kipát, nem volt pajesza. Nagyon jól tudott nyelveket, németül nagyon jól tudott, és beszélt szerbül és horvátul is, de hogy honnan tudott, azt nem tudom. Héberül imádkozni tudtak a nagyszülők, olvastak is, de nem beszéltek. De a nagymama kóser háztartást vezetett. Ők Győrben, a Király utcában laktak. Én náluk nem voltam, mert amikor én születtem, a nagyanyám Győrben az egyik lányánál lakott már, a Lenkénél. Amikor nagyapám meghalt, akkor költözött a Lenkéhez. Ő egy szabóhoz ment feleségül, nem volt túl jómódú. Őket látogattam meg. Vele jóban voltam, mert apám minden évben egy hónapra fölhozatta hozzánk Pestre.

Károlyra én már csak akkor emlékszem, amikor kocsmát nyitott. Győrben éltek. Károly nagyvilági életet élt, gyakran átment fiákerrel Bécsbe szórakozni, különböző esti mulatókba. Kiment a nagy világválság alatt Brazíliába, hogy esetleg valamilyen üzletbe belefogjon, de később visszajött, mert nem úgy alakultak a dolgai, ahogy szerette volna. A feleségét Seres Irmának hívták. Úgy nevelte a lányait, hogy Svájci bentlakásos iskolába adta őket. Erzsi, Lili, és Manci volt a nevük. Az egyik lánya a Manci, férjhez ment, pont akkor, amikor a németek bejöttek Budapestre. Hozzáment egy görög hajótulajdonoshoz. Ők rögtön ezután kimentek Amerikába. A Lilinek csemegeüzlete volt, de ő is kiment Amerikába később. Az Erzsi is ott él, neki a férje jószágizgató volt, egy földbirtokon még itt, a háború előtt. A lányok végül a szülőket is kivitték Amerikába.

A Júlia, vénkisasszony maradt, és nem tudom, hogy hogyan, de trafikot nyitott. Az akkor állami monopólium volt, az ital és a dohány is. A trafik Budapesten volt, és ő azt egyedül vezette. Egyedül jött föl, mint vénkisasszony Budapestre. Júlia öngyilkos lett, én már nem ismertem. Anyámék azt mesélték, hogy a szomorú vasárnap dallamára, lett öngyilkos. Nem tudom biztosan, de volt valami szerelme és ez egy homályos történet volt a családban. Ismerte a Seres Rezsőt is, de nem vele volt a szerelmi kapcsolat, csak szerette hallgatni a zenéjét. Egy katonatiszt volt a szerelme. Valószínűleg az első világháborúból szedte össze. Nagyon jóban volt anyámékkal, mert akkor ők már itt voltak.

A hét testvér közül Arnold volt a legidősebb. Egyébként az első házasságból született testvérek és a Schiller testvérek között nagyon jó volt a viszony. Segítették és szerették egymást.

Arnold feleségét Irénnek hívták. A lányukat Schiller Katalinnak hívták, aki hozzáment egy Szívós Elemér nevű zsidó fiúhoz. Szegeden éltek. Onnan deportálták őket Ausztriába, de nem tudom, hogy hova. Arnold unokája, a Gyuri, a háború után kiment Izraelbe. Nagy cionista volt, és egy kibucban élt, és ott egészen kiváló munkát végzett. Haifa közelébe ment. Mikor elhagyta ezt a kibucot, és egy másik kibuc vezetőségébe került, vett magának egy mosavot, egy földbirtokot, akkor kivitette, a családot. Az anyjáék, visszajöttek Szegedre a deportálásból. Textilmérnök volt a papa papírgyárnál, ők disszidáltak Bécsbe, nem tudtak itt megmaradni. Elegük volt ebből a mindenféle üldöztetésből, és ott egy konfekció műhelyt hoztak össze. Egész jól éltek, de aztán ők is kimentek Izraelbe, a Gyuri rábeszélte őket. Aztán meghalt a Gyuri is.

A Jenőről keveset tudok, rövidáru, úri és női divatüzlete volt, Szombathelyen, az Erzsébet királyné utca 9. sz. alatt. Gyereke nem volt. Az én időmben már nem nagyon volt kapcsolat velük. A felesége nagyon szuverén egyéniség volt, tudomásom szerint szivarozott. Paulának hívták, és egy nagyon jópofa, nagyszájú nő volt. Én már nem ismertem, csak anyám mesélt róla. Őket nem deportálták, mert addigra ők már meghaltak.

A Viktóriáról sokat lehet mesélni. Szombathelyen ment férjhez, Berger Márton nevű zsidó emberhez. Viktória, egy nagyon szép és szexis nő volt. Mártonnak a gyomrával volt baj és elég korán meghalt.

Már közben Viki néni megismerte vitéz doktor Sághy Rusa Bélát, aki alispán volt Sopron megyében, de valamilyen ügy miatt eltávolították. Valahogy megingott a posztja. Nem lehet pontosan tudni, hogy mi volt ez az ügy. Béla bácsi egy dzsentri családból származott, és ő volt az egyik legkedvesebb nagybátyám. Ők még Szombathelyen ismerkedtek meg. Amikor a Viktória megözvegyült, akkor hozzáment. Béla, egy rendkívüli ember volt. Mikor feljöttek Budapestre, neki rendezni kellett a dolgait, munkát kellett szereznie. A Zeneszerzők Szövetségének lett az elnöke, mikor Budapestre jött. Stipendiumokkal, szerzői jogdíjakkal foglalkozott. Ez az 1930-as években volt. Először Viki jött föl Pestre egyedül, míg ő rendezte a dolgait, és a Bakáts téri kórházban lett gondnok, gazdasági ügyintéző, később vezető. Közben följött Béla is és összeházasodtak. Az Akadémia utcában laktak, és Béla bácsi nevére vette a Vikinek a lányát Mártát, aki 1906-ban született.  A Berger Mártontól két gyereke volt. Volt egy fiú a Gyuri, de ő korán meghalt gyerekként, nyirok daganata volt. A Márta életben maradt, és ő jött föl vele Budapestre. Béla bácsi nagyon szerette a Vikit, és nagyon jól éltek. Óriási problémája volt azonban Béla bácsinak az, hogy zsidó nőt vett feleségül. Nem is álltak jóformán velük szóba, a család kitagadta az örökségből is. Nagyon szokatlan dolog volt az akkor, hogy zsidót vett feleségül. Ő katolikus volt egyébként. A Béla családja egyébként vagy Szombathelyről vagy Sopronból származott. Anyámnak Viktória, a legkedvesebb testvére volt, és nagyon sokat jártak össze, már itt Budapesten. Márta a lánya, az egy zsidóhoz ment hozzá, egy Pallós Imre nevű fiúhoz, aki tőzsdézett. Pallósék hárman voltak testvérek, egy lány, és két fiú. A lány aki a legidősebb volt, az hozzá ment egy magyar származású, de riói pacákhoz, és mikor meghalt a mama, akkor a papa kiment a lányához, és ott olyan üzleteket csinált, hogy nagyszerűen éltek.

Miután a Márta zsidóhoz ment férjhez, ki volt ugyan térve, de zsidónak számított. A Viktória néni nem számított annak, és a Béla bácsi, akinek sok ismerőse volt, meg rokona, azt mondta, hogy semmi baj, majd ő elbújtatja. Talált is egy helyet. Imrét a férjét, behívták persze munkaszolgálatra. A Mártának ki kellett költöznie a saját házából, oda ahova a Béla bácsi elrakta, és akkor már mi is itt költöztünk, és anyám el akart menni Viki nénihez, hogy valami családi értéket vigyen el hozzá, hogy rejtse el. Éppen akar menni hozzá, és Anti bácsi az egyik testvér a hét közül, jön őrjöngve a lépcsőn, hogy a Viki meghalt, öngyilkos lett. Megölte magát gázzal. Beleőrült abba, hogy ő magát megmentette, és a lányát meg a család többi tagját, nem tudta. Rajta kívül a családunk minden tagja megélte a háború borzalmait, hol a gettóban, hol pedig valamelyik koncentrációs táborban. Ez a tragédia mély bélyeget nyomott ránk aztán később is. A Béla bácsinak sikerült az Imrét is kimenteni a munkaszolgálatból, a Mártát is megmentette, és járt hozzánk a zsidó házba látogatni. Anyám minden vasárnap főzött neki. Amíg mi a zsidó házban voltunk a Nefelejcs utca 50-ben, Béla bácsi elég gyakran jött hozzánk látogatóba, és azt mondta nekünk mindig, és a Mártának is, hogy Bözsikém, mert anyámat Blanka helyett így hívta, én csak addig élek, amíg tudom, hogy a gyerekeket megmentettem. Eljött a felszabadulás, Mártáék megérkeztek az Akadémia utcába, és a Béla bácsi nagyon örült, odaadta nekik az összes dolgot, amit elrejtett a családnak, meg nekünk is az ékszereket, és azt mondta, hogy ő csak eddig akart élni. Másnapra meg volt beszélve, hogy anyámék oda mennek hozzá, de Béla bácsi sehol nem volt. A lakásban találtak egy levelet, amire az volt ráírva, hogy Viki után mentem. Volt egy Duna uszoda velük szemben régen, és Béla bácsi belevetette magát a Dunába, pedig isteni úszó volt Viki néni 1944 júniusában lett öngyilkos, a Béla bácsi pedig 1945 februárjában.

Márta visszament a Szemere utcai lakásába, amit korábban el kellet hagynia. Imre kiment rögtön Rióba az apjához 1948-ban. Márta nem ment, volt neki egy másik barátja is, de esze ágában sem volt kimenni. Aztán végül is kiment, de visszajött. Egy évig volt kint, itt halt meg 1989-ben. Óriási tragédia volt ez a családban. Nem lehetett ezt földolgozni. A Béla bácsi azt megtudta csinálni, hogy egy évig tartotta magát, úgy hogy a Mártáék megmentésért élt. Fantasztikus ember volt egyébként. Művelt volt, és rendkívül jóérzésű.

Lenkéről, nem tudok sokat. Férje szabó volt, Winkler Lajosnak hívták. Győrben éltek és ő vette magához a nagymamámat. Ő vette magához, egy pár évre rá, amikor a nagymama férje meghalt. Szabó volt a Lajos, és szerény körülmények között éltek. A házban volt a műhely, és három szobájuk volt. Sajnos nem tudom, hogy mikor halt meg. Volt egy gyerekük a Kata, aki sokszor nyaralt velünk Nagymaroson is. Deportálták őket Bergen-Belsenbe vagy Dachauba. Kata, Lenke és Lajos meghaltak. Anyám mondta, hogy a Katit magunkhoz vesszük ha visszajön, de nem jött vissza.

Antal nagyon tehetséges volt. Óriási érzéke volt a képzőművészethez, és a szőnyegekhez is. Harcolt az első világháborúban is. 1922-ben nősült, Zinger Olgát vette feleségül. Az Olga Sopron környékéről származott. Utána följöttek Budapestre, és itt laktak a Népszínház utcában. Anti bácsi, nem tudom, hogy hogyan, el kezdett rögtön egy Radó nevű régiségkereskedőnél dolgozni. Amikor feljöttek Pestre, Anti bácsi nagyon sokat kínlódott szegény, mert Radóéknak nem ment jól. Éheztek, adósságaik voltak. Anyámék is segítették őket abban az időben. Ez a nagy világválság idején volt. Ezért ő kiment a Károllyal, a nem édes testvérrel az 1930 –as években Brazíliába, Rióba. Kávéval akartak kereskedni. Rióban nem volt sokáig. Visszajött, mert nem jött össze a dolog. Később már azonban, nagyon jól ment neki

Volt egy gyerekük az Éva. Olgát anyám nem szerette, mert nem dolgozott, nem segített, nagyon meghízott. Inkább csak nyávogott. Anyám lenézte azokat az embereket, akik nem vettek részt a család keresetében.. Nem ápolta a lányát. Olga beteg volt, és a háború alatt meghalt. Éva, a lánya nem találta meg a helyét, sem a munkában, sem a családban. Cukros volt ő is. A férje is otthagyta később. Amíg Anti bácsi élt, addig az Évát segítette, és ő mindig segítségre várt. Magától nem tudott létezni. Pedig okos volt, vegyész lett belőle. Mindig elverte a pénzét. Rossz természete volt nagyon. Elvitték a háború alatt, de visszajött. Feketebárány volt a családban. Antal később becsüs lett. A háború után a Bizományi Áruházban, és az Ernst múzeumban dolgozott. Vezetője is volt egy időben. Kiállításokat, aukciókat rendezett. Neki saját gyűjteménye is volt, amit később ki is állított. Emlékszem, ha mi venni akartunk egy bútort, mindig kikértük az ő véleményét. Járt kávéházba, én úgy emlékszem, hogy a Nagymező utcában a Moulin Rouge alatt volt egy kávéház. Ott találkozott művészekkel, pl. a Hermann Lipóttal. [Festő, grafikus, Munkácsy-díjas (1952), érdemes művész (1964).Már első éves növendékként karikatúrákat rajzolt a Kakas Márton és a Borsszem Jankó c. élclapok számára. Mint karikaturista a Harag álnevet használta 1928-tól 1946-ig számos kiállítást rendezett. Többnyire tájképi környezetbe helyezett aktkompozíciókat, tájképeket, portrékat festett. Nagyobb gyűjteményes kiállításai az Ernst Múzeumban voltak (1920, 1924, 1954). Nagyon sok könyvillusztrációja és újságrajza jelent meg különböző hazai és külföldi lapokban. Az 1910-es években a Vasárnapi Újság, az 1930-as években a Pesti Napló rajzolója volt.- A szerk.] Bekerült ebbe a művész társaságba. Az Almási grófokkal is kapcsolatba került. Pl. Almási Gézával. Amikor kitelepítették az Almásiakat, őt kérte meg az Almási Géza, hogy segítsen a bútorait, képeit eladni. Amikor visszajöttek, akkor az Ernst Múzeumban volt ismeretségük, és így beprotezsálták Anti bácsit végül, fixen oda. Rengeteget olvasott, és képezte magát, teljesen autodidakta módon

Másodszorra is megnősült, Ziegler Arankát vette feleségül. Az egy nagyon jó házasság volt. Nagy szerelem volt az Arankával. Nagyon kiegészítették egymást.

Így érte a felszabadulás, és folytatta a szakmát. Igazi “selfmade man” volt. Tekintélye volt a szakmában. Az Ernst Múzeumnak volta becsüse és aukcióvezetője hosszú évekig. Olyan tekintélye volt a szakmában, hogy az hihetetlen. És ezt a tudást és ezt a szakértelmét, ami elsősorban szőnyegre, porcelánra, bútorra terjedt ki, saját maga szerezte mindenféle iskolázottság nélkül.

A második felesége Aranka, és a lánya Lili, tartották az első házasságból született lányával a kapcsolatot.  Az Éva és a Lili jóban voltak, és az Aranka néni is sokat segített neki.  

Az Arankával ők úgy ismerkedtek meg, hogy a Fillér utcában laktak. A Fillér utcai egy másfél szoba–hallos öröklakás volt. A Fillér utcai házban lakott egy ugyanilyen egyszoba–hallos lakásban az Anti bácsi a feleségével, meg a lányával. Az Antalnak a felesége, az Olga 1944 februárjában meghalt, és tulajdonképpen a pincében ismerkedtek meg, amikor a bombázások voltak, és lementek a pincébe. Többször le kellett költözni a pincébe, áprilisban is, meg valamikor nyáron is [Az első Budapest elleni bombatámadást 1944. február 2-ára tervezték, de a rossz idő miatt elhalasztották, s így csak április 3-án került rá sor. Az amerikai légierő Dél-Olaszországban fölszállt 450 bombázója és 157 vadászgépe támadta a ferencvárosi pályaudvart és a repülőgépgyárat. Az amerikaiak nappali bombázásai mellett az angol légierő éjszakai támadásokat hajtott végre. Április 13-án ismét 535 amerikai gép támadta Budapestet, célpontjuk a repülőgépgyár és a repülőtér volt. Júniustól országszerte az olajfinomítókat támadták a szövetségesek, Budapest ellen június 2-án intéztek nagy erejű támadást, a célpontok egyebek mellett a Weiss Manfréd Művek és a Shell Olajfinomító, a Duna-parti, a rákosrendezői és a nyugati rendező pályaudvarok voltak. – A szerk.]. És kialakult az Antal és az Aranka közt egy szimpátia. Egyidősek voltak, az ötvenes éveik elején voltak. Ez egy igazi szerelemféle lett, olyannyira, hogy már egy házba költöztek, a csillagos házba a Dohány utcába. Aztán ők [1944] szeptemberben összeházasodtak. Hogy milyen körülmények között, azt nem tudom.

A Lajos textilkereskedő volt Sopronban. Éppen akkor jött föl Budapestre, amikor a németek bejöttek. Jött a Károly lányának az esküvőjére, akinek pont ezen a napon volt az esküvője. Visszafelé, amikor hazafele utazott, elfogták a csendőrök a vonaton. Mindenkit leszállítottak, és soha többet nem tudtunk róla. Hiába kutattunk utána, nem tudtunk meg semmit. A felesége nem jött az esküvőre. Őt deportálták, és nem jött vissza. Gyerekük nem volt.

Anyámat Schiller Blankának hívták. Győrben született 1894-ben. Neológ vallású volt, négy elemit végzett. Jóval idősebb nővére volt nála a Hermina, aki nem volt édestestvére. Hermina a férjével Herzog Józseffel Pálfán lakott, aki kereskedő volt. Hermináék nagyon vallásosak voltak. Mivel nem volt gyerekük, úgy döntöttek, hogy anyámat magukhoz veszik, és kistafirungolják. Anyámék sokan voltak, így a nagymamának ez nagy megkönnyebbülés volt, hogy Hermináék magukhoz vették anyámat. Mennyi volt a korkülönbség közöttük azt nem tudom, de sok volt, és Hermina, mint lányát nevelgette anyámat.  Megállapodtak a nagymamával, hogy ők fogják kistafírozni és férjhez adni. Anyám, Győrbe járt iskolába. Amikor anyám elkerült Pálfára, nagyon jól élte ezt meg, mert a testvére és a sógora gyerekének fogadták be. Ezt nem anyám döntötte el, de azt hiszem, hogy azért megkérdezték tőle. Olyan tizenéves lehetett ekkor.

Anyám megélte azt Pálfán, hogy jöttek a kommunisták, azok között persze zsidók is voltak, akik fölégették a kereskedőknek, meg gazdagabb parasztoknak a házát. Ez, 1918. novemberében volt. Aztán jöttek a különítményesek, meg a katonák, és hát a zsidókat irtották. Anyám mesélte, hogy fölgyújtották a házukat, és elszedték a vagyonukat. A különítményesek lőttek is. Büdös zsidók, erre hivatkoztak. Anyámnak így veszett oda az egész stafírungja. Erről még egy bizonyítványt is kiállított a pálfai helyi tanács akkor.

12 évig élt anyám Pálfán, és itt ismerkedett meg apámmal, és egymásba szerettek. Anyám szőkés vörös volt, és nagyon szép. Budapestre már együtt jöttek föl.

A papám is, és a mamám is polgáriba járt, más végzettségük nem volt. Nem tudták a szülők fizetni akkor az iskolát. A fiúk bementek különböző kereskedők mellé, és ott tanulták meg a szakemberek mellett mesterséget.

A papám nagyon tevékeny életet élt. Az élete egy részét, pontosan nyolc évet, a háború töltötte ki. Ezzel is szerencséje volt, mert a német megszálláskor ő ezért kapott kivételezettséget. A Horthyék ezt megcsinálták, hogy az első világháború kitüntetett zsidó katonáit kivételezésben részesítették. Ez azt jelentette, hogy ugyan gettóba vittek minket, meg mindenhova, de később vették el az üzletét, és kapott egy kis „slajfot”. A fiát, azonban nem tudta megmenteni, meghalt sajnos munkaszolgálatban. Mikor apám a katonaságtól leszerelt, és az első világháborúban szerzett harci érdemeiért tudott kapni különféle kedvezményt, így kiváltotta az iparengedélyt, hogy kocsmát tudjon nyitni. Mint katona került föl Pestre, és itt volt neki az egyik testvére, az Eszter, ő segítette az elején. Eredetileg is, az volt a terve mint katona, hogy ha leszerel, akkor nyit egy kocsmát. Abban az időben ezek állami monopóliumok voltak. Hadi érdemeire való tekintettel kapott apám Iparengedélyt és forgalmi engedélyt, italmérés és dohányárusító üzlet nyitására.

1924-ben az első kocsmáját a Szív utcában, a 7. kerületben nyitotta meg. Utána pár évre rá kinézte magának a 8. kerületben a Práter utcában azt a kocsmát, amit aztán 1928-ban nyitott meg, és egészen a haláláig azt vezette. A németek 1944-ben elvették a kocsmát, de apám 1946-ban megnyitotta újra. 1949-ben államosították. Ma a kocsma helyén gyógyszertár van.

Itt Pesten a Práter utca 29-ben, volt tehát a híres a Goldgruber kocsma. Apám nagyon szigorú volt, a kocsmában nem lehetett részegnek lenni. Sem a kocsmában, de részeg embert be sem engedett a kocsmába. Híres volt ő a környéken nagyon. Nagyon szerette a borokat, és értett is hozzá. Volt Kispesten egy pincéje. Mindig megvett egy egész szüret termést a parasztoktól, az Alföldről, a homoki borvidékről. Gombos Béla szőlősgazdával volt sokáig kapcsolata, aki Tápiószele Gombostanyáról szállította a bort. A külföldi borokhoz nem értett, de egyébként egy jó szakember lett. A röviditalokat a Zwacktól vette. Mindig a képviselőjével tárgyalt. A pezsgő a Törleytől, a sör a Dréhertől jött. Éjjel-nappal nyitva volt a kocsma, szombat, vasárnap is. A zsidósága miatt csak akkor zárt be, mikor nagyünnepek voltak. Például Újév, Jóm Kippúr. Hanukkakor nem zárt be, húsvétkor igen. Volt fölirata a kocsmának „ Goldgruber-sör, bor”. A kocsmát apám nagyon kiépítette, mert volt ott egy külön asztaltársaság is. Volt egy külön szeparált része a helységnek, ahol ülő vendégek is voltak. Abrosz is volt az asztalon, hivatalnokok és kispolgárok jártak oda. Voltak állóvendégek is, akiket a pultnál kiszolgáltak.  A pult előtt volt két asztal, ahova leülhettek ezek is. Ezek az asztalok nem abrosszal voltak leterítve, hanem eternittel. Nagyon sokan vittek a jó házi borokból. Nem zsidó vendégkör volt, mert ezen a Práter utcai környéken, inkább kishivatalnokok laktak és dolgoztak. Enni itt nem lehetett, csak pogácsa volt, meg pacsni, amit apám a pékségből hozott. Anyám segített a kocsmában apámnak, a kasszában volt.

A kocsmárosság jómódot jelentett. Sok munkát is, de a szüleim jól éltek. Ez, egy jó polgári státusz volt. Sokszor mondta apám, hogy ő egy jó adófizető. Színházba is jártak rendszeresen, sokat a Nemzetibe. Élőben nézték Jávor Pált, Bajor Gizit és a kor nagy színészeit. Nekünk ez egy különleges adottságunk volt, mert a Bandi a bátyám színésznek készült. A Vígszínházba is jártunk nagyon sokat.  Somlai Artúr, Róth Sándor, ezek mind ott játszottak akkoriban. A Lackner bácsihoz is jártunk, láttam élőben a Ruttkai Évát. Apám imádta az Operett Színházat is. Az Operába nem volt olyan gyakori, hogy jártunk volna. Az hogy rendszeresen jártunk színházba, az azt jelentette, hogy kéthetente mentünkA papám, hogy a fia meghalt, nem tudta feldolgozni, és szívinfarktust kapott. 1952-ben halt meg. Apám az olyan hazafi volt, a háború már kitört és hallottuk a szörnyűségeket, akkor apám azt mondta, hogy ezt a Horthy nem fogja engedni. Hitte azt, hogy nem fogja engedni a magyar zsidókat elpusztítani és kitelepíteni. Magyarnak tartotta magát. Hazafias magyarnak, sírt a Trianonért, és nagyon szerette a hazáját

Én, Goldgruber (Gömöri) Mária 1930-ban születtem Budapesten. A zsidó nevem Mirjam bas Blumele. Akkor már, a Práter utcában laktunk. A Bakáts téren születtem, ahol anyám testvére, a Viki néni dolgozott. Apámnak akkorra már teljesen konszolidálódott a helyzete, mert amikor följöttek Pestre először, egy pár évig nagyon nehezen mentek a dolgai. Az első lakásunk és egyben a kocsmája a Szív utcában volt, a hetedik kerületben.  Sokat küzdöttek ott a Szív utcában. Ott is laktak, úgy ahogy később a Práter utcában is. Körülbelül 1928-ban kerültek a Práter utcába. Először egy kétszobás lakásban laktunk, aztán átköltöztünk egy háromszobásba, de ez a költözés a házon belül történt. A kocsmát bérelték apámék, ami a ház aljában volt. Azt mondták nekem a szüleim, hogy a születésemmel, igazi szerencsét hoztam nekik. Mire én megszülettem, apámék már polgári jólétben éltek, konszolidálódott a helyzetük. Tíz évvel később születtem, a bátyám után. Olyan “napsugár” voltam nekik. Mert később is, ami kijutott nekik, a viszonylagos jólét, a háború alatti borzalmak szerencsés, szenvedés nélküli átvészelése.

Én két évig jártam, egy Német Birodalmi óvoda nevű, magánóvodába, a Tompa utcába. Alice tantéhoz, és Elsihez, ők voltak az óvónőim. Nem igazán tudtak magyarul, talán az Esi egy kicsit tudott. Vegyesen voltak ott gyerekek, vallási felekezettől függetlenül. Azért jártam oda, hogy németül tanuljak. Anyu családjának nagy része, a Győriek, jól tudtak németül. Egyébként az édesapám rokonsága is valamennyire.  Négyéves koromtól jártam oda 1934-36 között. Nagyon jó óvoda volt. Füzetbe rajzoltunk emlékszem, meg papírkivágásokat is csináltunk. Abszolút nem érdekelte őket, hogy zsidó vagyok-e, vagy nem, ott ez nem volt szempont.

Volt egy német tantim is, mert anyám nem ért rá velem foglalkozni a kocsma miatt. Mindennap jött délután, egy-két órára. Ez már az iskola alatt volt. Egy soproni nő volt, elég primitív, nem tudta a névelőket helyesen mondani. Német anyja volt azt hiszem, és német állampolgár is volt. Neki ez egy jó állás volt. Megérte neki Budapestre jönni. Kapott rendszeresen fizetést. Egy rokonánál lakott itt Pesten. Nagyon szerettük egymást. A háború után följött hozzánk meglátogatott, egész sokáig volt vele kapcsolatunk. Akkor már férjnél volt, és egy fodrász volt a férje.  Itt volt fodrászüzletük a Rákóczi tér körül. Meg kell mondanom, hogy amikor komolyan kezdtem foglalkozni a némettel, akkor láttam hogy nem mindig beszélt helyesen. A nyelvtant nem tudta. Német anyanyelvű volt, akcentussal beszélt magyarul. Körülbelül 6 éves korom óta tanított 1940-ig.

Vigyázott rám, és németül is beszélt velem. Elvitt sétálni, meg játszott velem. Aztán a Mária Terézia téren, a mai Fazekas gimnázium helyén volt egy elemi iskola. Három féle osztály volt akkor ott, volt egy fiú, egy lányosztály, és egy vegyes. Elemi Mintaiskola volt a neve.  Ez azt jelentette, hogy mi, különleges pedagógiai program szerint tanultunk. Például egy különleges zsinórírást tanultunk. Én a lányosztályba jártam. Nagyon jó iskola volt. Ez azt jelenti, hogy 1936- 1940 között jártam ide. Voltak barátnőim is, például a Dvihallik Zsuzsi. Akkor már kezdődött a gyerekek között is az antiszemitizmus. Addig jártunk zsúrba, nem volt gond. Egyszer csak az egyiknek a mamája kijelentette, hogy ezt a zsidó lányt, mármint engem, többet nem hívhatod meg. Ez egy másik barátnő volt, és akkor mi sem hívtuk többet őt hozzánk. A Dvihallik Zsuzsi ő nagyon rendesen viselkedett. És akkor összeszorítottak minket, volt hat zsidó kislány az osztályban. Azokkal jártunk így össze. Ez így rendben volt, csak amikor első gimnáziumba kerültem, és jöttek a zsidótörvények, és a gimnáziumban a numerus clausus volt. Ami itt azt jelentette, hogy voltunk 32-en az osztályban, és abból ketten voltunk zsidók. Ez a Zrínyi Ilona leánygimnázium volt, a Práter utcában. Én oda jártam. Apám mindenféle protekcióval fölvetetett, hivatkozott a kitüntetéseire, meg ilyesmi. Két első osztály nyílt akkor. Egyikben volt két zsidó lány, a másikban pedig egy sem. 1944-ben negyedikes gimnazista voltam, és tiszta kitűnő lettem, és Pelsőczy tanárnő nagyon megdicsért, és mondta, hogy milyen jó tanuló vagyok, bár zsidó. Ez sok mindent elárult. Minden jót kívántunk egymásnak és hamarabb befejeződött az iskola. Amikor 1945-ben újra kezdtük, a másik kislány nem jött. Miután meghaltak a szülei, kiment egy cionista mozgalommal Palesztinába.

Most találkoztam egy három évvel ezelőtt Dvihallik Zsuzsival, egy angol tanfolyamon. Azóta nem volt kapcsolatunk, és itt egyszer csak megláttam őt. A Dvihalik Zsuzsival az történt, hogy nagyon vallásos volt a mamája. Katolikusok voltak. A Zsuzsi egy nagyon szorgos rendes lány volt. Most árulta el nekem, hogy az ő édesanyja, nagyon elzárkózott a zsidóktól. Érdekes módon a papája nem. Ő pedig éppen ezért, mindenáron zsidóhoz akart feleségül menni, mert ő ezt nem bírta elviselni. Ezt most mondta el nekem. Végül zsidóhoz is ment feleségül.

Az elemi négy év volt, és a gimnázium nyolc. 1948-ban aztán leérettségiztem. A legkedvesebb barátnőm, nem iskolatársam volt, hanem a házban lakott, Sebes Magda volt a neve. Ő is zsidó lány volt. 

Apám imádott kirándulni, amikor csak tehettük mindig kirándultunk. Ez persze főként nyáron, a nyaralás alatt volt jellemző. Nagymarosra jártunk nyaralni rendszeresen. Úgy jártunk, hogy egész nyarakat töltöttünk lent. Sváboktól vettük ki a házat, nagy barátságban voltunk velük. Általában egy-két hónapra vettük ki. Lementünk teljes háztartással, és akkor volt háztartási alkalmazottunk, ő is jött velünk. A papa vitte addig itt Pesten egyedül a kocsmát. De apám mindig lelkesen le is jött, és akkor mindig mentünk valahova kirándulni. Nagy turista volt. Egész társaságok mentek vele ilyenkor, Zebegénybe, Nagymarosra, Visegrádra. Ezek általában zsidó családok voltak, akkoriban nem nagyon barátkoztunk nem zsidókkal.

A nagymarosi svábokkal, nagyon jó volt a kapcsolatunk. Azokat később kitelepítették. Nekik is volt egy lányuk Marika, és nagyon sokszor jött hozzánk. Tőlük béreltük a házat. Ez a Trip család, egy nagyon nagy család volt.  Ott lakott a nagymama és az egész generáció. Nagy gyümölcsösük is volt, emlékszem. Parasztok voltak, gazdálkodtak, de iparos is volt köztük. Az egyik családtag asztalos volt.  Minden évben tőlük vettük ki a házat, egészen 1939-ig.

Sok zsidó család nyaralt velünk Nagymaroson, akik nagyrészt kereskedők, iparosok voltak. A Fuksékra és a Weiszékre emlékszem, a későbbi férjem szüleire. Volt ott egy isteni strand, és gyönyörű nyaralóhelyek.  Bandi a bátyám, mindennap átúszta a Dunát. Én ott tanultam meg úszni. Volt egy csodálatos strand, és esténként bálok voltak. Bandi szavalt ott gyakran Adyt, Petőfit. Vegyes társaság volt, nem csak zsidók.

Anyámék már nem voltak kóserek. Holzer bácsira emlékszem, ő egy sváb kereskedő volt, mi tőle vásároltunk. De volt Nagymaroson kóser bolt is, lehetett ott mindent kapni, mert volt, aki kóserül főzött ott is. Ezek a nyarak nagyon jót tettek anyáméknak. Vonattal mentünk mindig le, borzalmas, nagy utazókosarakkal. Anyám ott, nagy befőzéseket rendezett. Tettünk el baracklekvárt, szilvalekvárt, mert a ház végében nagyon nagy gyümölcsösök voltak. Rendszeresen ott főztünk be, és hoztuk föl a befőttet Budapestre. Volt olyan is, hogy föl is adtunk a vonattal. Később autóval szállítottuk, mert apám kocsit vett. Ezt az autót még a háború előtt vette, 1935 körül. Vezetni nem tudott, de volt egy söfőrje a Tokaji bácsi, aki nem a mi sofőrünk volt, csak elszerződött időnként apámhoz. Akkor apám kocsival jött le. Később a Bandi vezette ezt az autót. Fiat 1500-as volt, emlékszem. Ez akkor nagy szó volt, autót venni.

A családból az idősebbek még jártak Abbáziába is nyaralni. Például az Anti bácsiék, anyám testvére és családja, jártak egy időben.

Később a Balatonra is jártunk, ott is nagy társaságok jötte össze, nemcsak zsidók. Volt katonazenekar, szalonzenekar, tánc is volt, strandvendéglők voltak emlékszem. A Bandi oda velem, már egyedül járt. Jártunk Balatonlellén és Szárszón is. 1941-ben a Bandi katona volt, akkor már anyuék nem mentek nyaralni. Engem meg beadtak, egy Baár Károly nevű zsidó gyerekorvos szanatóriumába nyaralni. Az én korombeli és idősebb zsidó gyerekek jártak oda. Volt egy rendkívül intelligens felesége, aki nagyon sokat foglalkozott velünk. Nagyon jó társaság volt. Két hetet töltöttünk itt. Ez 1941-42- ig volt. Akkor már háborús hangulat volt és teljes bizonytalanság. A szüleim nem voltak ilyen zárt visszavonult zsidók. Szabad emberek voltak, azt legalább is azt hitték.

A bátyám Goldgruber Arnold 1920-ban született. Bandi zsidó neve Slajme ben Simon volt. A Bandi színész akart lenni, de az Akadémiára nem vették föl, a zsidótörvények miatt. A testvéremnél, hogy ő tehetséges, elég korán, még kamasz korában jelentkezett. Ő az Aranyosi féle Kereskedelmi iskolába járt. Először a Vörösmarty Gimnáziumba járt, és utána átment oda, ez egy magániskola volt az Alkotás utcában. Nem csak zsidó iskola volt. 1939-ben érettségizett, de már csak egy magántanárhoz tudott járni. Bárdos Artúr tanította őt a Belvárosi Színházban. Nagyon tehetségesnek tartotta őt. Bandi a Goldmark teremben tartott szavalóversenyeket, és próbált ismeretségre szert tenni, azért, hogy Párizsba kimehessen tanulni. Ez nem sikerült neki. Közben segített apámnak a kocsmában. Bandi megszerezte a gépkocsi vezetői engedélyt, és így apámat vitte vidékre is, ahol bort vásároltak. Bandit 1940-ben elvitték munkaszolgálatra. Ő azzal az első munkaszolgálatos csapattal ment el, akik katonaruhában vonultak be, sárga karszalaggal. Kőszegre vitték. Onnan jött még hír róla. Rengeteg keresztény barátja és ismerőse volt apámnak, és különféle papírokkal apám utána is ment, de nem tudta megmenteni. Kivitték őket az orosz frontra, és apám elékísérte még oda is őt. A Don partján halt meg a bátyám. Berezovkán halt meg, 1943-ban.

A Práter utcai ház, egy körfolyosós, nagyon rendezett bérház volt. A háziúr nagyon szigorú volt. Olyan kötelezettségek voltak, hogy ki kellett festetni a lakást, minden két három évben. Nagyon nagy rendet kellett tartani. Mi a második emeleten laktunk. A mi lakásunk három szobás lakás volt. Fürdőszobánk is volt.  Nem bojleres, hanem szénkályhás.  Henger alakú tartályban melegítettük a vizet. Szép volt a fürdőszoba, úgy emlékszem. Egy szép tükrös szekrény volt a falon, volt benne egy szennyespad, amire rá lehetett ülni. Nem volt csempézve, hanem olajjal volt a fal bekenve. Volt még természetesen egy kád a fürdőben, és egy mosdó. A WC külön volt.

Volt cselédszobánk, amiben volt egy ágy, egy szekrény és egy falicsap. Testvéremnek, a Bandinak, külön volt a szobája, az egy udvari szoba volt. A lakásban két szoba volt még, azok az utcai fronton voltak. Az egyik az a nappali volt. Ebben volt egy fekvőhely, ahol én aludtam, és a szüleimnek külön volt egy háló. Ez a szoba a fürdőszobára nyílt. Akkor ez volt a divat. Amikor a bátyám meghalt, akkor én költöztem a szobájába.

Zongorázni is, és táncra is jártam, de ide már később. Zongorázni Varjas Anna zongoraművésznőnél tanultam, aki ott lakott a szüleivel a Práter utcában. Jó ismerőse volt apámnak, így kerültem én hozzá. Ő is zsidó volt. Elég sokáig, kb. 6 évig zongoráztam. Amikor elkezdtem, még elemista voltam. Erste Produktív Genossenschaft zongorám volt. Táncolni Petris Brúnóhoz jártam, de már csak a felszabadulás után. Nyelveket is tanultam, anyámék erre nagyon nagy hangsúlyt fektettek. Legtöbbet azonban franciát tanultam, egy magántanártól. Egy tanárnő tanított franciára, egy privát tanárnő. Hetente egyszer jött hozzánk. Nála négy évig tanultam, aztán jártam tanfolyamra is. 1952-ben vizsgáztam le franciából. A franciát nagyon szerettem a Bandi miatt, mert ő Franciaországba szeretett volna kimenni, Párizsba. Ez egy dédelgetett álma volt. Istenien megtanult franciául. Moliére nyelvezetét is nagyszerűen beszélte. Neki is volt tanára. Ő egyébként született nyelvtehetség volt. Mindenből majdnem megbukott, de a franciát imádta. És ezért én is imádtam, és tanultam is. A francia nyelv a legszebb a világon. Hogy angolt a háború előtt kezdtem-e, erre már nem emlékszem. Érettségizni angolul érettségiztem, ezt az iskolában tanultam, de volt magántanárom is. Jártam az angol követségre is, de aztán ez valahogy kiderült, és ez rossz pont volt. Figyelték, és aztán már nem jártam. Az első gimnáziumban mi latint és németet tanultunk.

Minden iskolában voltak papok, akik vallást oktatattak. Amikor a katolikus gyerekek hittant tanultak, akkor mi a rabbival hébert és zsidó vallást. Hetente egyszer volt hittanóra. A héber már az elemiben elkezdődött. Nem tanultam meg persze. Olvasni igen, de írni nem nagyon tanultam meg.

A testvéremmel nekem nagyon jó volt a kapcsolatom. Én fölnéztem rá, ő pedig “kegyes” volt hozzám. Én rengeteget nyávogtam, mert időnként fölszokott pofozni, de nagyon jóban voltunk. A karácsonyt azt úgy tartottuk, hogy minálunk nem volt karácsonyfa, de volt bejgli sütés, és ajándékozás is volt. Aztán én már később tartottam, karácsonyfát is csináltam a gyerekeknek.

A Hanukkát ünnepeltük minden évben. Apám gyújtotta meg a gyertyát, és utána játszottunk. Ajándékokat kaptunk. Trenderlivel játszottunk, meg kártyáztunk. A trenderli egy kockajáték volt, számok voltak rajta. Aki többet dobott, az kapott bizonyos mennyiségű cukorkát. Promincli volt a neve. Sok édesség is volt ilyenkor. A felszabadulás után is ünnepeltük, de nem ilyen mértékben, mint amíg Bandi is velünk volt. Fánkot is sütöttünk. Anyám sütötte. Amikor a nagymama jött hozzánk, mert minden évben nálunk volt egy-két hónapot, akkor mindig anyám neki adta ki a feladatot hogy süssön fánkot, meg túrósbatyut. 

Széderestén, mindig hívtunk más családtagokat is. Mi is tartottuk a férjemmel később is. Nálunk időnként voltak 25-en is. Gyerekkoromban mindig jöttek azok a rokonok, akik egyedül voltak vagy nem tartották ezt az ünnepet. Másik nap, meg mi mentünk másokhoz. Jellegzetes ételek voltak a maceszgombóc leves, főtt hús tormával, ami marhából volt. Aztán volt a kígerli. A nyers krumplit le kellett reszelni, maceszlisztet és tojást adtak hozzá, majd kisütötték. Édességek is voltak. Például a macesztorta. Liszt helyett maceszlisztet használtak. Ez olyan volt, mint a piskóta, lehetett bele diót is tenni. A maceszt megdarálták, és krémmel megtöltötték. Diót, meg frissen érett gyümölcsöket, is tettek bele. Volt egy másik édesség, amit nagyon szerettünk, ez volt a macebrat. A maceszt borba beáztatatták, csináltak egy cukros tojásos keveréket, piskótaszerű tésztát, mert maceszlisztet is kevertek bele, és borral beáztatott maceszt féltenyérnyi nagyságúakat, megtöltötték és zsírban kisütötték, és az nagyon finom volt.

Sátoros ünnepekkor, nagyon régen apám állított sátrat a Práter utcában, de mi már később nem.

Két cselédlányunk volt, akikre én is emlékszem. Vellai Juliskának hívták azt, aki korábban volt nálunk. Ócsai lány volt, azt hiszem 1939-ben vagy 1940-ben ment el tőlünk. A Juliska tipikusan vidéki lány volt, jellegzetes ócsai népviseletben járt. Juliska két-három szoknyában járt, időnként fölpróbáltam az alsószoknyáit. A Juliskától hallottam az első szellemtörténeteket. Például, hogy a temetőben megjelentek a szellemek, meg szerelmi történeteket a faluból, hogyan lettek öngyilkosok, meg ilyesmiket. Nálunk sem vette le ezt a viseletet. Abban volt otthon is. Volt hétköznapi és ünnepi ruhája. Volt a réklije, pruszlikja, amit időnként én is felvettem. Különböző anyagokból. Otthonra nem hordott alsószoknyát. Amikor kimenője volt, akkor kiöltözött. Ment a Ligetbe, meg korzózott.  Volt udvarlója is. Élveztem én is őket. Körülbelül hat évig szolgált nálunk. Juliska cselédközvetítőn, a cupringeren keresztül került hozzánk. Nagyon fiatalon került hozzánk, olyan 13-14 évesen. Ő nem tudott főzni, anyámmal főztek közösen. Azért jött föl Budapestre, hogy gyűjtsön a stafírungra. Vásárolt is magának. Családi okokból haza kellett mennie, és nem jelentkezett a háború után. Anyám még megkereste, de nagyon rosszul élt, már a felszabadulás után. Mindenes volt nálunk. Juliska 3-4 éves koromban jött, és elment tőlük olyan 10 éves koromban. Nagyon szeretett nálunk, és mi is nagyon szerettük. Nagyon szorgalmas volt.

Azután jött egy másik lány, ő felvidéki volt, Galántáról. Sipeki Mariska, őt ajánlotta valaki. Valaki a családból ismerte az ő családját, és így került hozzánk. Ő idősebb volt olyan 20 év körüli. Ő már főzni is tudott. Ő nem járt viseletben, hiszen Galánta nem is volt falu. Imádtuk őt is. A Városligetbe jártak vasárnaponként a barátaival, meg a katonákkal szórakozni. Jó volt a családdal a viszonya neki is. Volt egy udvarlója a Mariskának, egy csendőr. Neki nem volt bő szoknyája. Megvolt őrülve a moziért. Egyszer megnézte az „Elfújta a szél” című filmet, és teljesen oda volt. Mariska olvasott is, és kijárta a nyolc elemit is. A felszabadulás után elsők között jött minket megnézni, hogy mi van velünk. Nagyon szomorú volt, amikor elvittek minket. Sokáig tartottuk a kapcsolatot vele. Őt ez a holokauszt dolog nagyon fájdalmasan érintette. Tisztába volt a történelmi dolgokkal, viszonylag olvasott volt. 1944-ben el kellett mennie. Ő tényleg nagyon szeretett minket, és nagyon szomorú volt, hogy a német megszálláskor neki el kellett mennie. 1941-ben már behozták azt a rendeletet, hogy cselédek nem dolgozhatnak zsidóknál. Mariska 2-3 évig volt nálunk. Ő már főzni is tudott. Volt egy nagy szerelme, még onnan Galántáról. Nem Budapesten ismerkedett meg vele. Időnként följött a fiú, és akkor találkoztak, teljesen megvolt őrülve érte. Teljes lojalitással volt irántunk. Később én megvettem neki magyarul az Elfújta a szelet, amikor lefordították magyarra. Ez már a háború után volt. Nagyon boldog volt. Nem tudom mi lett vele aztán. Talán 1948-ig volt kapcsolat vele.

A cselédekkel jól bántak a szüleim. Kaptak fizetést, meg ajándékokat, de szigorúak voltak anyámék velük. Anyámék nagyon igazságosak voltak. Tanítottuk pl. mosakodni és tisztálkodni is őket. Mosakodni nem, de fürödhettek a fürdőszobában. Volt egy cselédszobánk, és ott egy lavórban mosakodtak. Volt ott egy vízcsap is. Minden héten egyszer megfürödhettek. Nem tudom, hogy milyen nap fürödtek, talán a hét végén. Enni, nem ettek együtt a családdal. Mi bent ettünk az ebédlőben. Amikor apám nem volt otthon, akkor kint ettünk a konyhában, és akkor a cseléd is velünk evett, de amikor apám otthon volt, akkor a szobában ettünk. Anyuék általában keveset voltak otthon. Nekünk gyerekeknek, meg kellett adni a tiszteletet nekik is. A cselédek segítettek takarítani, főzni, mosni, bevásárolni.

Anyám tartotta a cselédek miatt a karácsonyt. Vett nekik ajándékot, és bejglit sütött, és fenyőágat csinált. Nem tudom, talán kendőt kaptak a cselédek.

Volt mosónőnk is. Havonta egyszer volt a nagymosás. A házban, volt mosókonyha a padláson. Ott voltak a mosóüstök és teknők, és itt mostak. A mosónőt ajánlották ismerősök. Azok mind pestiek voltak, nem vidékről jöttek. Budapest külső kerületeiből jöttek általában. Ő nem számított cselédnek. A mosónők a mosókonyhában főzték ki a ruhákat, ágyneműket nagy üstökben. Igazán csak abban segítet a cseléd, hogy segített a ruhát fölvinni, vagy fölvitte neki az ebédet. Havonta egyszer, mindig hétfőn volt a nagymosás, nem tudom hogy miért. Enni nem jött le, hanem a cseléd fölvitte neki az ebédet. Abban az időben a mosókonyhák nagyon rendesen fel voltak szerelve.

Volt varrónőnk is, meg naponta jött egy fodrásznő is. Anyám nem annyira szerette a varrónőt, mert egyrészt tudott foltozni, másrészt ő csak “jó” varrónőnél varratott. Ágyneműt és a foltozást inkább ő megcsinálta, így a varrónő, nem volt sokáig nálunk. A fodrász mindennap jött, volt az ún. napi fésülés, de volt hogy ő ment a fodrászhoz.  Később bérletet vett egy fodrászüzletbe, ami ott volt a Práter utcában. A fodrász nem volt zsidó, csak a varrónő. Kozmetikushoz nem járt.  Pedikűröshöz és manikűröshöz is járt. A pedikűrös az házhoz jött, de a manikűrt a fodrásznál csinálták. Volt telefonunk, és rádiónk is.

1938-ban behívták apámat munkaszolgálatra, néhány hónapra. Ez valami kísérlet volt, hogy hogyan lehet ezt az első világháborúban harcoló korosztályt munkaszolgálatra felhasználni. Közben pedig apáméknak a zsidótörvények értelmében magyar állampolgársági igazolást kellett beszereznie. Kivételezettséget lehetett kapni az első világháborúban való részvétel illetve eredmények miatt.

Elérkezett 1944. Március 19-én megtörtént a német megszállás. Horthy kinevezte a Sztójay kormányt és hagyta, hogy a csendőrség nyárra az összes vidéki zsidót gettóba zárja és deportálja. A budapesti zsidókat intézményesen nem deportálták, különböző címen sokan mentesítést is kaptak. De voltak Pest környékén különböző táborok felállítva, ahonnan később deportáltak zsidókat. 1944 júniusára a pesti zsidóknak csillaggal jelölt házakba kellett költözniük. Kijárási tilalom volt. 1944. október 15-16-án a kormányzó átadta a hatalmat a nyilasoknak, ekkor a zsidókat egy nagy gettóba tömörítették. Nyilas különítményesek összeszedtek zsidókat és legyilkoltatták őket, vagy a Dunába lőtték.

Apámat az egyik nap elvitték gyalogmenetben a nyilasok az egyik téglagyárba, de nem tudom, hogy melyikbe. Nekünk a kocsmában volt egy segédünk a Fazekas Józsi, ő járt hozzánk látogatóba. Nem volt zsidó, nagyon rendes fiú volt. Amikor elvitték a téglagyárba, mi szereztünk neki vatikáni védettséget, schutzpassnak hívták.  A házban egy férfi intézte ezt, és ez a segédfiú azt mondta, hogy ő elmegy a Goldgruber úrért. És ez történt, és így nem deportálták apámat, és végig együtt voltunk. Utána már a védett papírral beköltöztünk a védett házba. Mi júliusban költöztünk el, a csillagos házba, apám testvérének, az Eszternek a házába, amit csillagos háznak jelöltek ki, a Nefelejcs utcában. Eszter férje és leánya egy pár évvel korábban betegségben meghaltak, és ő a fiával akit behívtak munkaszolgálatra itt lakott. Az egyik szobába mi költöztünk, a másikban pedig Kaufmann Albert bácsi és leányáék laktak, aki apám unokatestvére volt. A bútoraink és egyéb holmiink egy részét el tudtuk itt helyezni, a többi a Práter utcai lakásban maradt egy szobában lezárva. A katolikus egyház akart segíteni itt a környék zsidó lakóin úgy, hogy ki akartak téríteni bennünket és különféle tanfolyamokat szerveztek. Nem tudok róla, hogy valaki is közülünk kitért volna akkor. Amikor a zsidóházban voltunk, volt egy vatikáni vallási mozgalom, ami elterjedt ott a zsidó házban. Aki kitér az majd bizonyos előnyökhöz jut, védettséget kap. Jöttek haza hozzánk is. Katolikus papok küldték ezeket a követeket. Én azt mondtam, hogy nem, szó se lehet róla.  És a Laciék ugyan védettek voltak, de ott is terjesztették ezt. És anyósom az ortodox, elment egy ilyen gyűlésre. De nem sikerült őt kitéríteni. A Nefelejcs utcai ház házmestere sokat segített a nagynénémnek, és a ház lakóinak. Októbertől azonban a nyilasok naponta vittek el embereket a csillagos házakból. Ott voltunk egy hónapig, és onnan elvittek bennünket a nyilasok egy szép reggel. Sorba állítottak, és elvittek minket a gettóba. Ahogy vittek minket a gettóba, apámat megállította egy nyilas. A házból sokan szereztek maguknak nyilas ruhát, így menekültek meg. Őrült tömeg ment, hozták a különböző helyekről a zsidókat, és a Klauzál térnél odajött egy nyilaskaraszalagos katona, mert soroltak mindenkit, hogy hova menjen, és odament apámhoz egy, és azt mondta, hogy ez a szép szőke lány nem zsidó. Azt mondta az apám, de hiszen ez az én lányom. Hova akarja, hogy elvigyem, elviszem ahova akarja- mondta. Apám persze hallani sem akart róla. Nem tudtuk eldönteni, hogy ez egy mentőosztag volt, vagy tényleg nyilas.

Nagynéném, és Kaufmannék maradtak a csillagos házban. Novemberre azonban mindenkit a gettóba hajtottak. Mi a Kazinczy utcai fürdő mellett levő házba mentünk, ami a fürdő tulajdonosáé volt. Egy ismerősünk lakott ott. Mikor Budapest ostroma elkezdődött, lementünk a pincébe. Itt találkoztunk azzal, hogy a ház pincéje átjárható volt a fürdőével, ahol hullahegyek voltak felhalmozva, mert nem tudták hová temetni a halottakat. A mi pincékben szökött munkaszolgálatosok is lejöttek, szegények tetvesek voltak, és mi is megtetvesedtünk. Élelmet a közös konyháról szereztünk. Anyámnak még volt abból, amit behoztunk a hátizsákokban, pl. Planta tea, baracklekvár és cukor, ezt megosztottuk az ottlevőkkel természetesen. Január 18-án megjelent az első két orosz katona a pincében. A németeket keresték, nem tudták, hogy ez gettó, de legtöbben azt sem tudták, hogy mi az. Örömujjongással fogadtuk őket, nem nagyon tudták, hogy miért. A visszajött munkaszolgálatosok már bontották a gettó falait, és 5-8 nap múlva nekiindultunk a romos állat és emberhullákkal teli pesti utcáknak, és hazaindultunk először a Nefelejcs utcába, aztán a Práter utcába. Megrázó út volt ez. Apám ment előre, a házmester és néhány régi lakó fogadott bennünket. A volt lakásunkba erdélyi menekülteket telepítettek, akik először megijedtek, mikor megláttak, de látták, hogy nem bosszúvágyból vagyunk itt. Ott maradhattak velünk addig, amíg nem tudtak másik lakást szerezni. Egy szoba be volt zárva, abba hagytuk a holmijainkat, amit nem tudtunk elvinni a csillagos házba. Szerencsére nem nyúltak a lakók hozzá. Ők az udvari szobába mentek, mi meg a másik kettőbe. A konyhában anyámmal együtt főztek. Apám szerzett be élelmet. Vidékre vonat tetején utazott, és ruhaneműért cserélt és hozott némi élelmet. Mikor Budapest fölszabadult, apám kezdte az üzletet, és a pincét is rendbe tenni. Gyalog kijárt Kispestre is, és ott is a régi házmester jó embere volt neki. A környéken sokan ismerték apámat, és sokat segítettek egymásnak. Fazekas Józsi is jött dolgozni, mi is segítettünk, amit tudtunk egymásnak. Ekkor apám kezdett utána nézni Bandinak, a testvéremnek, és a vidéki rokonságnak. Szomorú híreket kaptunk mindenhonnan. Az 1945-46-os évek voltak a nagy viszontlátások és szomorú halálhírek évei. 1949-ig pedig jó néhány budapesti és deportálásból visszajött rokon kivándorolt Amerikába, Dél- Amerikába, Izraelbe.

A zsidó törvények apámat is sújtották volna, az ipart vissza kellett volna adnia. Állami monopólium volt abban az időben az alkohol mérés. Akkor írta ő a különböző kérelmeket. Egészen 1944-ig kapott kedvezményt Az italmérést nagyon szigorúan ellenőrizték. 1945 minden szörnyűsége mellett az újjászületés, az életbemaradás éve volt. Lelkesek voltunk és tevékenyek, vége lett a szörnyűséges háborúnak.

Amikor bejöttek a németek Budapestre, apám Kispestre ment éppen a borospincéjébe, és igazoltatták. Apám valahogy ügyeskedett és megúszta, de nem tudom, hogy hogy csinálta. Apám üzletét államosították, ill. az államnak felajánlani kényszerült, amelyet a semmiből ismét felvirágoztatott. Cserében állást kért a Közelbisztől, melyet megkapott, és Kispesten egy nagyobb vendéglőt vezetett. 1951-ben államosították a Kispesti házát is. Apám 1952-ben halt meg szívinfarktusban. Nem tudta feldolgozni azt, hogy a fiát, Arnoldot elvitték. Őt nem tudta megmenteni.

Anyám amikor a kocsma megszűnt, elment dolgozni az ún. Alkalmi Áruházba, ahol pénztáros volt. Sok helyen volt ilyen bolt abban az időben. Ő a Rákóczi úti boltban volt. Olcsó, leértékelt holmit árultak ott. Konfekció ruhát, fehérneműt, ruházatot, de edények is voltak ott. Cipőt is árultak. Az anyám 75 éves korában, májrákban halt meg.

A férjem édesapjának kocsmája volt a mostani Horváth Mihály téren, akkor Mária Terézia tér volt a neve. Apámék jó barátságban voltak az ő családjukkal. Apósom Weisz József volt, 1948-ban lett Vereckei, akkor magyarosította a nevét. Gyerekkoromban, amikor Nagymaroson nyaraltunk, pár házzal laktak ők arrébb. Sokat játszottunk együtt, marokkóztunk, kártyáztunk mi gyerekek. Egyszer azt mondta a későbbi férjem, mert én nagyon csaltam, főleg a marokkóban, meg meg is sértődtem. És akkor azt mondta nekem, hogy soha nem venne el engem feleségül, mert én állandóan csalok.  Ez úgy közszájon forgott később a családban. Öt évvel volt idősebb nálam.  A férjemmel nem volt aztán olyan igazi kapcsolatom sokáig. A lánytestvére az Éva, is odajárt a Zrínyi Ilona gimnáziumba. A fölszabadulás előtt, őt sem vették föl az egyetemre. Numerus nullus volt. Aztán bevonult munkaszolgálatra, és az apjának a 75 százalékos rokkantsága mentette meg őt is, meg a családban sokakat, mert nekik nem kellett csillagot hordaniuk, és nem kellett bezárniuk az üzletüket. Kivételezett volt, ami azt jelentette, hogy meghagyták a kocsmáját, ott maradhattak a lakásukban, de a férjemet elvitték munkaszolgálatra, és érettségi után nem vették fel az egyetemre. Otthon maradhattak, gettóba sem kellett menniük. Ez volt az a csalétek és őrület hogy az apámék annyira bíztak Horthyékban és a rendszerben.  Apósom elvesztette a karját az első világháborúban, és így nem kellett az üzletét bezárni. Családot, barátokat bújtatott.  Apósom nagy népszerűségnek örvendett a környéken az egyszerű emberek körében, senki nem jelentette fel, inkább segítettek neki, a családtagok megmentésében. Az üzlet pincéjében bújtatta például a fiát és két munkaszolgálatos bajtársát, mikor azok megszöktek. Sőt anyósom két unokatestvére is ott bujkált. Anyósom főzött nekik, és segített az élelem beszerzésében is.

Weisz Gizella volt az anyósom, Glázer volt a lány neve. Az apja az Alföldről, Kisújszállásról származott. Galíciai zsidók voltak eredendően. Parasztzsidók voltak. Anyósom édesapja később, asztalosműhelyt nyitott. Bár jiddisül beszéltek egymás között, de magyarul is beszéltek, és anyósom és három fiútestvére magyar községi iskolába jártak. Ortodox szokásaikat mindenki megtartotta, kivéve anyósom, aki egy neológ fiúhoz ment feleségül. Apósom a héber dalok helyett, inkább a magyar nótákat részesítette előnyben.

Apósomék szintén olyan asszimilánsok voltak, minta a Pálfaiak. Valószínűleg Németországból származtak. Neológok voltak. A családjuk még beszélt héberül. Apósom 1949-ben feladta az üzletét, és portásként helyezkedett el a Háztartási Boltnál. 1973-ban halt meg veseelégtelenségben.

Apósom és anyósom jó házasságban éltek, férjemen kívül egy lányuk is született. Érdekes találkozás volt az övék. Anyósomék ortodoxok voltak, és innen kezdődtek a bonyodalmak. Tartotta anyósom a vallást, amennyire lehetett, mert mit lehetett egy neológ kocsmáros férjjel tartani? Kóser háztartást azonban vezetett. Parókát már nem hordott. Mikvébe se járt, de lány korában valószínűleg igen. Rengeteg konfliktus volt ebből a kapcsolatból. Nem akarták a szülők apósomhoz adni anyósomat. Elmentek a szülők ezért a csodarabbihoz. Nem tudom, hogy melyikhez, a családban úgy hallottam, hogy egy nyírségi rabbihoz. Hát hogy most mit csináljanak. Hát a csodarabbi azt mondta, hogy próbálják megtéríteni a férjet. De hát ebben nem tudott segíteni, sőt anyósom nagyon szerelmes volt. A Gizi néni már itt született Budapesten. Volt két fiú testvére is. Anyósom papája még kaftánban, kalapban, és kipában járt. Pajeszt nem hordott. A Teleki téri ortodox imaházba jártak imádkozni.

A férjem Vereckei (Weisz) László nem lett ortodox, de a neológ hagyományok szerint minden szokást megtartott. Ő volt a családban az, aki sokkal nyitottabb volt. Sokat olvasott. A nagy találkozás az úgy volt, hogy én kezdtem nagylány lenni. Szegeden 1945-ben megnyílt tavasszal egy keresztfélév az orvosi egyetemen. Ő akkor lement Szegedre az orvosi egyetemre, ahol nagyon sok budapesti fiú volt, zsidók zömmel. Akkor nekem volt egy udvarlóm. Ott lakott a házban a Práter utcában, Szemző Gyuri a papájával. Apja újságíró volt, és a háború alatt a gettóban meghalt. Anyámmal véletlenül találkozott ott, és segített őt beszállítani a Wesselényi utcai kórházba, de ott meghalt. Zsidó volt ő is. Gyurit elvitték Borba, és Borból gyalog hazajött. Radnótival együtt volt. Nálunk kopogott, 1945 februárjában. Márciusban már együtt ünnepeltük a születésnapomat. Voltak itt rokonai, a Szent István körúton, és hozzájuk ment. Nagyon ragaszkodott hozzám. Gyuri is lement Szegedre, és találkozott Laciékkal, és akkor mesélt rólam, és egyszer, amikor a Laci följött Pestre, hozott a Gyuritól levelet. Nem volt akkor még posta, és azt mondta, hogy ő akkor innen el sem megy. Nagyon akart velem járni, és öt évet udvarolt nekem. Gyurival jó barátságban maradtunk, annak ellenére, hogy a Laci lecsapott a kezéről. Aztán kiment Argentínába a rokonaihoz. Szeretett volna engem is kivinni, de én nem mentem.

Férjem testvére az Éva, későn ment férjhez Klein Frigyeshez. Az egyik szülője nem volt zsidó, hanem sváb katolikus családból származott. Beiratkozott ő is az orvosira, de nem végezte el. Ő aztán később pénzügyi vonalon helyezkedett el. Ő pénzügyi előadó lett a Vegytervnél. Él még, régen nem dolgozik már.

Az esküvőnk 1951-ben otthon volt, mert nem nagyon lehetett járkálni templomba, úgyhogy haza hoztuk a hüpét. A Nagyfuvaros utcai zsinagóga főrabbija és mindkettőnk hittantanára adott össze minket.

Apósomék föladták a Horváth Mihály téri lakásukat, és vettek a Tisztviselő telepen egy házat, melybe mi is beköltöztünk. Laciék itt laktak a nyolcadik kerületben, egy nagy házban, és az állandó kiigényelés veszélye fenyegetett. Ide költöztek 1946-ban, ők nem kezdték újra a kocsmát. A Gizi néni bátyja is hozzásegítette őket, hogy itt a Tisztviselő telepen vegyenek házat, a Bíró Lajos utcában. Aztán a mienk lett, most is a mienk. A Gizi néniék 1948-ban kiköltöztek ide, és kezdték kiigényelni a házukat, mert nem volt meg, az egy főre jutó négyzetméter. Ide vettek gyorsan egy orvost albérletbe, és később egy nővért is. Altató nővér volt, ma is van kapcsolatom vele. Menteni kellett a házat. Végül idejöttünk az anyósékhoz. 25 nm-re volt jogosult egy ember. Egy orvosnak járt még egy másik szoba. Akkor igényelhettek lakásnélküli emberek lakást, és akkor a tanácstól adtak egy beutalót és beköltöztek idegenek, szó nélkül, a tulajdonos engedélye nélkül.

Az anyóssal nem volt túl jó a kapcsolatom. Anyós halál féltékeny volt, a férjem pedig anyafüggő. Ennek ellenére, a férjem nagy tudója volt a család összetartásának. El se tudta volna képzelni a férjem, hogy nincs együtt a család. Mindenkit tudott kezelni. De mikor meghalt, akkor mindenki “föltámadt”. Ez egy kertes ház volt, nagyon nagy. Erre költöttük a keresetünket, és mindenki ott lakott. A gyerekeink is ide születtek. Ez egy családi bázis volt. Én költöztem csak most el, amikor a férjem meghalt. De csak két utcával arrébb. Most a házban a gyerekeim laknak. Anyagilag sem bírtam fenntartani ezt a nagy házat. Miután én eljöttem, közben a sógornőmnek meghalt a férje, és ő visszaköltözött. Átadta az ő házát a fiamnak. Az Éva és a lányomék laknak most itt. A fiam is itt lakik közel. Kétszintes nagy ház, több lakással. Mindenki közel van.

Amikor már apám nem élt, anyám akkor elcserélte a lakását ugyanabban a házban egy kisebbre. Anyám meghalt 1968-ban, apósom 1967-ben, anyósom 1965- ben. Mi a férjemmel itt maradtunk.

A férjem először a Rókus kórházban volt belgyógyász és kardiológus. 1951-ben került a Rókusba. Innen fiatal korára való tekintettel be akarták a Honvédséghez hívni, de ő nem fogadta el ezt a munkát. Akkor a Rókusból ezért el kellett mennie. A lakóhelyünkön, a Tisztviselőtelepen az egészségügy szocialista átszervezésekor megüresedett egy belgyógyász állás, és ezt elvállalta. Körzeti orvos lett. Eleinte rövid ideig a saját rendelőjében látta el a betegeket, de rövid idő múlva a Mávag Kolóniában a mentőállomás mellett körzeti orvosi rendelőt hoztak létre. Az 1970-es években pedig létrejött már a Ganz Mávag Rendelőintézet, ahová átkerültek a körzeti orvosi rendelők. 1954-ben a körzeti orvos állása mellett üzemi orvos is lett, a Magyar Rádió üzemorvosa. Tulajdonképpen elégedett ember volt, mert szerette a hivatását, és sok megbecsülés és elismerést kapott az emberektől a körzetben, és a rádióban is. Nagyon szerették. Jellegzetes és közismert alak volt a kerületben. A háború után egy használt női kerékpáron kerekezett el fekvő betegeihez, amelyre később Dongó-motort szereltetett. 1956 után, az akkor NDK- ban kapható Mopedet használta. Az 1960-as évektől aztán már autóval járt. Férjem volt a jó zsidóorvos. Ezen a környéken magas rangú tisztviselők laktak. Itt zsidók nem nagyon voltak. Azt mondták itt, hogy az orvosok között is vannak jó zsidók. Keresztény köztisztviselők laktak itt túlnyomórészt.

Újévre új ruhát kaptunk, és mi is később a gyerekeknek mindig vettünk egyet. Anyósom ragaszkodott ahhoz, hogy az unokáknak ő vegye meg. A Galamb utcában volt egy gyerekruha szalon, és mi ott, csináltattunk a fiamnak öltönyt az őszi ünnepekre, és azt anyósom akarta mindig megvenni. Sőt anyám is vett magának újruhát. Aranka néni is tartotta a vallást. Anyósom nagyon dolgozott azon, hogy ortodoxok legyünk, de Laci nem hagyta, de ő imádkozott, csak velem nem tartatta be. Pénteken pl. soha nem mentünk sehova. Disznóhúst nem ettünk. Én nem is nagyon főztem, mert anyósommal laktunk, ő főzött. Közös konyhánk volt. Anyám sokat segített neki, átjött szinte mindennap. Jól főztek. Sóletet, sült húsokat, töltött borjút. Kóser mészárszékről szerezte be a húst. Saktertől, meg a Kazinczy utcában volt kóser mészárszék, és ő mindig oda ment. Anyám nem vett kóser mészárszékből. Férjem sokat imádkozott, ő tanult és szépen tudott. Járt rabbihoz gyerekként. Ő tartotta a szédert és tudta is, az imarendeket. Az anyós és após között volt konfliktus, de após győzött. Pl. após evett az üzletben szalonnát, és anyósom persze tudta. Nagy bajok voltak ebből, de ez egy szerelmi házasság volt. Az én időben már nem járt mikvébe. Nagyon tisztaságmániás volt. Volt cselédlánya. A külön mosogatást megtanulták a lányok. Nem szabadott egybemosni a dolgokat. Mi nem tartottunk kóser háztartást. A Práter utcában volt egy zsidó mészáros, de nem volt kóser. Mi sem ettünk azonban disznót a férjemmel.

A Pészahot a lányomnál még megtartjuk, én segítek a jellegzetes ételeket megcsinálni. A szédertálra kitesszük a jellegzetes ételeket. Olvassunk a Hagadából magyarul, az unokám mondja az imát héberül, és leírtam neki magyarul. A vejem és a menyem is részt vesz az ünnepen. Azelőtt a Kati a lányom, elvitte őket Ros Hasanakor templomba. Én már nem böjtölök, hosszúnap előtt. Gyerekkoromban szerettem böjtölni, akkor mosakodni se szabad, meg fogat mosni se, nehogy víz érjen minket, és én ezt gyerekként nagyon szerettem. Birsalmát megtűzdeltünk szegfűszeggel és vittük a templomba anyáméknak hogy szagolják, mi meg gyerekek, ott randalíroztunk a templomban. Miután a férjem meghalt már nem csinálok nagyon sok mindent az ünnepekkor. Egyszer-egyszer elmegyek templomba. Karácsonyfát akkor kezdtem állítani, amikor Andris, a fiam lehetett olyan tíz éves. Közben tartottuk  a Hanukát is. Persze anyósom olyankor be se jött hozzánk, amikor karácsonyfa volt. Hogy a gyerekek örüljenek, akkor vettünk ajándékot.

Az 1950-es években elterjedt az antiszemitizmus itt is cionista címszó alatt, azonkívül a sztálini orvosperek ismeretében. 1948-ban megjelentek Bibó István és egyéb önvizsgálati kiadványok, de nem közölték őket. A Rákosi időszak csak osztályharc szemléletet fogadott el, és hallgattak a zsidó kérdésről. Nem tudták elemezni marxista módon a zsidó múltat, ezért mindent elhallgattak és Izrael szerintük agresszív politikát folytatott. A zsidó közösség eközben nagyon tönkrement. A templomaink lepusztultak, a zsidók szegények, szomorúak és reményvesztettek lettek. A Dohány utcai templom állapota is mutatja például a magyar zsidók helyzetét, a rendszerváltás hajnalán majdnem összedőlt. Most a felújítás után látszik, hogy a magyar zsidóság ismét élő, színes közösség. A templom most turisztikai látványosság, és fesztiválok színhelye.

1955-ben megszületett első gyermekünk a fiú, és 1963-ban a lány. Boldog voltam. Közben olyan szakmát is kezdtem, és az idegen nyelveket, németet, angolt, franciát továbbtanultam.  A külkereskedelemben helyezkedtem el.

1956-ban megint új életet kezdhettünk. Anyám még a Práter utcai lakásban lakott, de október 24-én átjött hozzánk, hogy együtt legyünk. November 2-án ment haza és mire november 4-én bedübörögtek a szovjet tankok, már a pincéjébe költözött lakótársaival együtt.  A lakásuk előtt felrobbantottak a forradalmárok egy szovjet tankot, és nagy zűrzavar volt náluk. Mi is a pincébe költöztünk kisfiammal együtt. Nálunk nem voltak harcok, de hallatszottak a lövöldözések. Nagyon aggódtunk anyámért, mert férjem a mentőktől értesült az ottani eseményekről. Az egyik nap aztán mentőautóval elhoztuk anyámat. A kevés megmaradt rokonságból és sokan barátaink közül úgy döntöttek, hogy nem maradnak itt, és elhagyják az országot. Ki teherautóval indult, ki vonattal a határnak. Éjszakákon át viaskodtunk, hogy menjünk, vagy maradjunk, de úgy döntöttünk, hogy maradunk, egyrészt a családunk miatt, másrészt pedig reménykedtünk, hogy változások lesznek itt is végre. Férjem nagybátyjáék elmentek Ausztriába. Náluk lakott közös takarítónőnk, aki ekkor hozzánk költözött, és hűséges segítőnk maradt haláláig. Csorba Jánosné Juliska, 35 évig takarított nálunk. Juliska Vecsésről származott.

Engem nem vettek föl az orvosi egyetemre, sem a textilmérnöki egyetemre. Azt gondoltam, hogy javítok a helyzetemen, és szövőszakmunkás leszek, és beiratkozom a textilmérnöki egyetemre, mert ez a káderhelyzetemen javít. Ezek voltak életem nagy megalkuvásai. Elmentem szövőtanulónak, és ez egy évig tartott. És szövőszakmunkás lettem. Három műszakban dolgoztam, és nagyon szerettek. És az igazgatóúr azt mondta, hogy én még mindig nem vagyok jó káder és költözzem el otthonról és költözzek be az ipari tanulóotthonba, akkor majd ajánlanak, hogy vegyenek föl az egyetemre. Hát én meg mondtam hogy nem. A Soroksári úton volt a szövőgyár. Apám, mikor hatra mentem reggel, egyszer „megőrült” és azt mondta, hogy hagyd ezt a marhaságot. És nem engedett oda. Én mondtam hogy csak addig, míg fölvesznek, de persze nem vettek föl. Akkor elkezdtem műszaki rajzot tanulni. Ez is csak egy év volt. És elhelyezkedtem a Technoimpexnél. Katonatisztek dolgoztak ott, és térképeket rajzoltak. Nagyon jó társaság volt. Én itt is megmondtam, hogy zsidó vagyok, meg mindenhol. Nem voltam elég opportunista. Itt, ennél a vállalatnál volt egy munkatárs, aki kifejezetten fajelmélettel foglalkozott, és megállapította a fejformámról, hogy nem vagyok zsidó. Kérdezte, hogy apám hogy nézett ki. Azt mondta, hogy te nem vagy igazi zsidó, biztos a nagyanyám megcsalta a nagyapámat. Nagyon jóba voltam vele ettől függetlenül. Műszaki számításokat végeztem itt a Technoimpexnél. A könnyűiparba akartam azonban később elhelyezkedni, és átmentem 1970-ben Hungarocoophoz. A könnyűiparban, a konfekcióiparban dolgoztam, mert nagyon szerettem. Főleg német területen dolgoztam. Önálló üzletkötő voltam. És nagyon jóba voltam a németekkel. Bérmunkát csináltunk. Nagy divatcégeknek dolgoztunk. A németek nagyon jó partnerek voltak. Pl. a Betty Barclaynak is, mi dolgoztunk. Magyarországon nem lehetett kapni persze ezeket a ruhákat, mi csak csináltuk. Nem voltak üzletek. Snitteket, feldolgozási utasításokat kaptunk, ami alapján a ruhaanyagot, a szövetkezeti üzemekben dolgozták fel. Az ő technikusaik pedig mindig jöttek eligazítást tartani. Rabszolgamunka volt tulajdonképpen, de nagyon szép volt. Én ártárgyalásokra jártam, és tulajdonképpen, nagy szabadságot kaptunk. Az elkészült ruhákat vitték aztán ki. Meg kellett szervezi az üzemeket. 1985 –ben leépült a cég, és önállósították magukat egyes üzletkötők. Akkor teljesen lerobbantak ezek a varrodák. A megrendelők pedig elmentek a Távolkeletre. Jártam sokat külföldre, vittük a kollekciókat. Aztán később a cégengedélyével lehetett árulni is. Akkor alakultak az S modell boltok. Ott lehetett kapni ezeket a ruhákat. Sok helyen voltak műhelyek, Békéscsabán, Gyulán, Sárospatakon, Sárváron, Sopronban, Pécsett. Ezek szövetkezeti üzemek voltak, nem államiak. Itt már nem volt antiszemita megnyilvánulás. A németekkel is ez téma volt, mert én ott is megmondtam, hogy zsidó vagyok. Fölmerültek ilyen kérdések is, és tényleg mondhatom, hogy a németek szembe néztek a történelemmel. Ezek mind nyugatnémetek voltak. Zsidó kollégáim többen voltak, a főnököm is az volt például. Ő egy remek üzletember volt. Volt angol és francia érdeklődés, de igazán a németekkel és az osztrákokkal tudtunk dolgozni.

Összefoglalva, ipari tanuló, és szövőszakmunkás lettem, a Magyar gyapjúfonó és Szövőgyár Nemzeti Vállalatnál (1949-51). Utána műszaki rajzoló és technikus lettem, a Távvezetéképítő Vállalatnál (1951-53),  majd műszaki adminisztrátor lettem a Villamoshálózati Fejlesztő és Tervező Vállalatnál (1953-54). Voltam előadó a Nehézipari Minisztérium Országos Villamosenergia Felügyeletnél (1954-59), bonyolító a Magyar Gépipari Külkereskedelmi Vállalatnál TECHNIMPEX (1959-68). Üzletkötőként dolgoztam a Vegyberendezések Export- Import Vállalatánál KOMPLEX (1968- 1970), és voltam üzletkötő a Hungarocoop Magyar Szövetkezet Külkereskedelmi Vállalatnál (1970- 1986), innen mentem nyugdíjba. A nyugdíj után még dolgoztam ipari összekötőként, a Skála World Trade (Skála Coop) vállalatnál. Itt 2001-ig dolgoztam.

A férjem éjjel-nappal dolgozott, de nagyon jó volt vele a kapcsolatom. Sokat utaztunk, minden három évben lehetett menni akkor külföldre. Sose társas utazással, hanem egyénileg mentünk. Általában vonattal mentünk, csak később autóval. Négyszer voltam Olaszországban, Szicíliától kezdve Toscánáig, bejártuk az országot. Ez az 1960-70 –es évek volt. Kezdtük Csehszlovákiával, nagyon szerettük Prágát. Jugoszláviát nagyon szerettük, a tengert és Krk szigetét. 1962-ben csak én kaptam útlevelet, és elmentem Franciaországba, Párizsba. Régen kimentek a Laci családjából rokonok, és én hozzájuk mentem. Ők is Glázerek voltak. Anyósom unokatestvérei voltak. Magyarul beszéltek, de a feleségek már franciák voltak.  Ők adtak nekem pénzt kölcsön, és két hétig ott voltam. A Gare de Nord környékén laktak. Örök vágyam volt, hogy eljussak egyszer Párizsba. Voltak vágyaim, és a gyerekekkel elmentünk Angliába és Franciaországba, később Spanyolországba, és ott találkoztam egy barátnőmmel, aki 1956-ban ment el Kanadába.  Egy évig mindig tervezgettem az utakat. Utána néztünk mindennek, hogy mit akarunk megnézni. Budapestről Bécsbe mentünk, és onnan mentünk tovább, a kiszemelt uticélra. Volt olyan is, hogy ott a helyszínen béreltünk autót. Egyszer voltunk Ibusz úttal Görögországban, az 1970-es évek végén. Én elmentem a Katival a lányommal  Izraelbe is, 1984-ben, még az intifáda előtt.

Bennünk nem merült fel az, hogy elmenjünk Izraelbe. De a fejünkben állandóan ott motoszkált a gondolat. Rokonok mentek ki a háború után, amikor a nagy toborzások voltak, meg 1956 után. Itt volt a család, és nem akartuk itt hagyni őket. De mindig megtárgyaltuk otthon, főleg akkor, amikor családtagok, ismerősök elmentek. Éjszakáig tartó politizálások voltak. A férjem nem akart repülni, félt, és ő így Izraelben sem volt. De kíváncsi volt mindig, és a férjem sokat olvasott Izraelről. A rokonok, Tel Avivban laknak, az ő rokonságából, nekem Jeruzsálemben lakik egy rokonom, az Arnold bácsi unokája.

Én egy- két évig nagyon lelkes voltam és örültem hogy élek, és azt gondoltam, hogy a kommunizmus fogja megszűntetni az antiszemitizmust.  Belekapaszkodtam a DISZ-be, és teljesen meg voltam győződve, hogy a szocializmus az egyetlen igazságos rendszer, mely megszünteti a társadalmi igazságtalanságot. Mikor a Rajk per volt, nagy válságba kerültem, és akkor viszont minden kiderült nekem. Apám azt mondta, hogy addig leszel kommunista, amíg én el tudlak tartani. Mi a férjemmel rossz káderekké lettünk minősítve, és nem is vettünk részt pártmunkában. Egyébként apám szociáldemokrata volt. Járt is ilyen helyekre, és hozzá is járult rendezvényekhez a kocsmájában. Amikor a szociáldemokrata párt megszűnt, apám kulák lett, mert kocsmáros volt.  Én pedig egy kuláknak voltam a lánya, és nem vettek föl az egyetemre, mert egyéb származású lettem. Kiábrándultam lassan. Mindenhol a fejemre ütöttek. A férjem, meg eleve nem szerette ezeket a “hőbölgéseket”. Baloldali érzelmű volt, de soha nem lépett be a pártba. Az egyetemisták közül voltak zsidó és nem zsidó gyerekek, akik megkísérelték egzisztenciális okokból fölvetetni magukat, de nem vették föl őket, és sokan ezért elmentek a szüleiktől. Új életet akartak kezdeni.

Antiszemita megnyilvánulásokat én úgy tudtam elkerülni, hogy rólam mindenki tudta, hogy zsidó vagyok. Nem voltam semmilyen izmussal elfogult. Abban a reményben, hogy új társadalom fog felépülni meghasonulás nélkül tudtunk tovább élni itt. Mindenképpen baloldali, liberális érzelmeim voltak, nemcsak zsidó szempontok miatt, hanem szociális okok miatt is. Nem politizáltunk, tettük a dolgunkat. Én szőke voltam, nem voltam igazi zsidó.

A zsidók nem akartak provokálni, és a zsidók igyekeztek nem zsidóknak látszani. A fiúkat nem metélték körül.

A nagyünnepeket tartottuk a férjemmel. A Pészahot, Ros Hasanát, Hanukkát. Mezuze nem volt az ajtónkon, sőt anyósom se tette már ki. Én nem tartottam kóser háztartást. Gyertyát sem gyújtottam. Szombaton, ha dolgozni kellett, akkor dolgoztunk. Jártam rendszeresen maszkírra, ami a halottakért való ima. Én a Dohány utcai zsinagógába jártam, meg a Nagyfuvaros utcába. A nagyünnepekkor elmentünk mindig imádkozni. A gyerekeknek is zsidó identitásuk van. Az unokák még nem tudják, hogy mik legyenek, de nagyon érdeklődnek. A gyerekeim házastársai, már nem zsidók. A fiamnak még volt bar micvája. Salgó László volt a mi rabbink, a Nagyfuvaros utcában.

Én még eljárok a Magyar Zsidó Kulturális Egylet rendezvényeire. Egyházi adót fizetek, járatom a Szombatot, az Újéletet, a Múlt és Jövő folyóiratokat, és az Erecet is időnként.

A családomat izraelita hagyományok között temették. Mindenki ott van a Kozma utcai temetőben. A Laci szülei, az ortodox temetőben vannak eltemetve. A zsidó temetőben volt egy rombolás és a férjem sírját is lerombolták 2003-ban. Ígértek kártérítést, de nem kaptunk. A mai napig nem kapták el őket.  Én halott mosdatáson nem voltam. A férjemmel egészen a haláláig vele voltam, gyomorrákja volt, sokat kínlódott szegény. Rajk Tamás temette, 2002-ben.  A kozma utcai temetőben van anyám és apám is, és Lacit is oda temetettem. A Dohány utcában mi nem vettünk meg családi helyet. Apámék a Páva utcai imaházba jártak anno.

Michal Nadel

Michal Nadel
Lodz
Poland
Interviewer: Zuzanna Solakiewicz/ Judyta Hajduk
Date of interview: November 2004 – October 2005

Mr. Michal Nadel lives in Lodz; he originally comes from Lwow. He lives in an impressive old building on Narutowicza Street. His apartment is large and well taken care of, filled with old furniture and family pictures. Mr. Nadel is an attorney. He is of average height, slim, very well mannered, a nice gentleman. He speaks in a quiet, calm voice. Before he started talking to me, he forewarned me: ‘Many of the things I’ll tell you about will seem like a fairy tale.’ As I discovered, he didn’t mean fantasy, but improbability.

My family background

Celebrating shabbat

Member of Akiba

Religious life and zionism

During the war

Marriage and children

Recent years

Glossary

My family background

We come from Lwow. Once I had a great-grandmother, who had seven generations. That’s what we used to call it then; it meant she lived to have seven generations of descendants. It was a great-grandmother from Father’s side – my father was the youngest, but his brothers and sisters already had their grandchildren, who were her great-grandchildren. [Editor’s note: In fact, this is five generations]. Great-grandmother lived by herself in some small town near Lwow, I can’t remember its name. I never met her – she died when I was little.

Grandmother Eilberg, family name Nadel, Father’s mother, lived in Zolkiew [today in Ukraine]. I didn’t know Grandfather, because he died before I was born. Grandmother had a warehouse with construction articles. She lived in a small house on the market square. Despite her age she was on her own. Independent. Grandma always pleaded our, her grandchildren’s, case to our father. I remember Grandma’s visits, I kept this memory about her, that whenever Father didn’t want to do something we asked for, she always backed us up: ‘I’ll tear your ears off’ – that’s what she used to say to him.

After 1918 there was confusion with last names. In the Austrian partition 1 religious weddings were recognized by the government, but after 1918 2 new laws were introduced, according to which the only valid marriages were those registered in the office of civil marriages. Religious marriages weren’t recognized, and children who came from relationships where parents had only a religious wedding, had their mother’s maiden name as their last name.

My parents got married in 1917 or 1918, before the liberation of Lwow 3. Father had his father’s last name then – Eilberg. But after 1918 it turned out that the religious wedding of the Grandparents wasn’t valid, and since Grandfather was already dead and couldn’t marry Grandmother again, Father had to go back to his mother’s maiden name – Nadel. Because my parent’s wedding wasn’t considered valid for some time, at school I had my mother’s maiden name – Hamer. Only when my parents’ marriage was legalized by the Polish government, my last name became Nadel. In the first years after the liberation [1918] these problems were common.

My father, Abram Aleksander Nadel, was a war veteran, his knee was injured, in fact his entire leg was unfit. He used to serve in the Austrian Army 4, but I don’t know under what circumstances he got that injury. Because of that he obtained a special trade license. Right after 1918 certain types of businesses were restricted to war veterans only. Father opened a store with colonial articles, on Jagiellonska Street in Lwow. He went bankrupt in the 1920s, when I was very little. It was during the times of depression caused by Grabski. [The interviewee is referring to the economic depression in Poland in 1925 that resulted in inflation, unemployment].

After the bankruptcy Father worked at a bank for a short period of time. He was an office worker, not at some high level, but as a war veteran he had some concession at work, slightly more favorable conditions. Later he worked at a grain company of his distant relative. The firm was called Klarberg and company – purchase and grinding of grain. They used to buy grain from peasants, lease mills, where the grain was ground. They delivered flour to various points, mainly to bakeries.

Father was of a rather gentle disposition, the only punishment he was ever able to give us was pulling our ear. He would grab the ear and pull it upwards. He was traditional, not conservative, but just a traditional Jew. He came from a very religious family. He followed the rules, didn’t work on Saturdays, used to go to the synagogue. At home he made sure the kitchen was kosher.

He wore different clothes on holidays from the everyday ones. On a regular day he would put on a dark sheepskin coat, sport style, and a hat. And on holidays he used to wear a special outfit, which was usually stored in the bedroom. It was a black bekesha and a hat. Bekesha was a black suit. A black, long, loose coat. It had a collar for sure, but I can’t remember if it was velvety. Because there were various bekeshas. It was a matter of wealth. And of how you wanted to look like. There were also ones for Hasidim 5: made of satin, long, elegant. I, as a child, didn’t pay attention to it. But I remember Father’s black suit for holidays.

Father had a beard, but didn’t wear side-locks. He had a lot of siblings, but, unfortunately, I don’t remember them at all. Not even their names. Very often, whenever there are prayers for the deceased in the synagogue, I would like to mention them, but I don’t remember their names, I can’t recall them.

Father used to go to the synagogue on Zolkiewska Street most often – we lived near by. It was a progressive synagogue. Father had a musical talent and on holidays he prayed as a cantor. Apart from the synagogue there were also small prayer houses – they were called shtibls – Father used to go there for seudah shlishit [Hebrew: third meal]. In Hebrew shalosh seudot means three meals. The first meal was on Friday night, the second one was the Saturday dinner and the third feast was that seudah shlishit which took place between the dinner and supper on Saturday. With herring. With vodka. There was darkness there. Only when stars came out, they could turn the lights on.

Everyone knew each other there. They would sit and sing niguns, traditional parts of psalms – I still remember some melodies. For us, kids, it was all fun, because we used to go and chase each other there in the darkness, under the tables, around the tables. We liked to get into trouble. In the evening Father would go to the synagogue or to the seudah shlishit. And I would go somewhere else. We used to go to the Wzgorze Lwowskie [Lwow Hill, a park complex on a hill in the center of Lwow].

There were also beis midrashes, otherwise called kloizes. They were places to pray, but besides praying, you could also sit in there and study the Talmud. My Father didn’t use to sit in beis midrash. He had a family, he had to work. Mainly those who didn’t have a job, didn’t have a business, would go there. Their poor wives usually worked to support them. Unfortunately, there were cases like that. Next to the beis midrash sometimes there was a shelter for the homeless, they used to warm up near stoves, sleep on benches.

Mother’s name was Cywia, her family name Hamer. She came from Scielisko Nowe, a small town near Lwow [ca. 15 km from Lwow]. She had three sisters and a brother. Two sisters lived in Lwow: Rachela and Malka, and one – Cutel, went to America right after World War I [1914-1918]. Uncle’s, that is Mother’s brother’s name, was Hersz – Herman. He was a progressive man. They used to call him Herman, only when they would call for him to read the Torah, then they would call him: Hersz Cwi.

Mom was a blond, but she used to wear a wig. She had a lot of work at home, since the family was large: seven children. I was the eldest child in the family. I had four brothers and two sisters. The second-born was Wilhelm [1920 – 1943], two years younger than me. Then there was Anszel [1922 – 1943]. When the fourth son was born, I asked to call him Szalem [1924 – 1943]. I suggested this name for him because at some point there were some misunderstandings between my parents, and Szalem means peace. After Szalem there was Michael – Michas [1926 – 1943]. Out of the two sisters, one, Cecilia [1932 – 1943], was the youngest in the family, and the second, Chana Anna [1923 – 1943], was between Wilhelm and Anszel, I think.

Cecilia’s name was similar to Mother’s name, but a bit different, because among Jews you don’t give a child the name of the closest members of the family for as long as they are alive. There were about two-year gaps between us. The boys went to cheder. The girls were home-schooled. Father mainly taught them to read in Hebrew. He taught them prayers and blessings. And Mother coached them in matters regarding women’s duties.

Wilek [from Wilhelm] was an awful rascal. He kept playing hooky. There were no cars then, just horse carriages. Wilek would get to know the coachmen, other rascals, and was happy when they let him drive such a horse cart, and happiest when they let him ride a horse. There were horrible quarrels about this hooky-playing at home. When Wilek finished elementary school, Father sent him to learn a profession, but in the end my brother went to a conservatory because he was musically talented. He had a superb strong voice.

I was born in Lwow on 15th July 1918. My name was Mosze, they used to call me Miszka, and I became Michal in the Soviet Army. I went to a private Hebrew school. That was for 4 years, after the 4 years I went to a regular, public elementary school.

Just like all my brothers I went to cheder as a child. Those were schools only for boys. My cheder was located on the street I lived on, on Peltewna Street. I lived near Teatr Miejski [Municipal Theater], and the cheder was on the other end of the street. It was the last house on Peltewna where the cheder was. I don’t remember the number, but it might have been 31. A short street, a regular house, two-storey, and with classrooms inside.

Grades weren’t called by age of the pupils, but by what was taught. [Division was based on the level of knowledge, not on age]. Of course it didn’t collide with education in the elementary school. The education in cheder started at the age of three years, and until the 6th year of age classes there ran from morning till evening. It was good, I think, because a young child grasps things differently and absorbs everything faster.

Later, when we went to elementary school, classes in cheder were in the afternoon. We started with the Hebrew alphabet, later we studied the Bible. After the 5th grade, we normally read the Bible. We used to learn it by heart. In the 6th or 7th grade, depending on a child’s abilities – we switched to the Talmud. That demanded more knowledge, more intelligence. Talmud was more difficult. The Mishnah was first, then the Gemara. That was the highest level.

The cheder was different from other schools in that there were no desks, just tables. Students sat on both sides. The melamed had his place at the top of the table, but usually walked around. And he taught. Each melamed had his own ways, his systems of teaching. One would want us to read individually, another wanted reading in chorus. Sometimes it happened that one would slap our hands with a ruler. Some of them happened to be better educated, more progressive – that depended on their character.

If somebody was particularly gifted, then after cheder, if he could afford it, he would go to a yeshivah. Usually you would start a yeshivah at the age of eleven, twelve. Depending on the talents of a student. In yeshivah there were no diplomas, certificates, like in other schools, but depending on your talents you would go up a level. Only at the end, if you passed certain exams, you would get a rabbinical diploma.

I went to cheder and elementary school at the same time. The first four years I went there. It was a private school, but had the rights of a public school, was organized by a religious party, ‘Mizrachi’ 6. We were taught normally in Polish, Hebrew language was as a subject, as well as Jewish history. Aside from those, all other subjects that were taught in public schools were taught in the cheder. After school we had lunch at home, a bit of rest and then off to cheder again at 3pm.

After the 4th grade I continued my education at a normal public school. It was located on Stanislawa Street. I remember: the Kon School it was called. But it was also rather a Jewish school. It was financed by Kahal, the Jewish community. There was no Hebrew there, only Polish.

I was a very good student. I remember, in elementary school, in the 6th or 7th grade I was even the top pupil in the class. But when the beautiful spring came, summer, then I used to play hooky. There were hills in Lwow, and Piaskowa Gora [Sandy Hill] between them, and we used to play ball there. And it would happen that we played hooky for one, two days, but once it went on for two weeks. In the end we were afraid to go to school. And I don’t know how it would have ended, but one day we played ball, and above us, on top of the hills, stands the religion teacher. A handsome man. ‘How’s the game, boys?’ I don’t know if he came to us on purpose, or whether it was a coincidence, but then it was all out, and we went back to school the next day. Other than that I think I was a good kid. A Lwow ‘batiar’ I wasn’t for sure [batiar: Lwow slang for rascal].

Celebrating shabbat

On Saturdays we didn’t use to rest like nowadays, because we had to go to the synagogue to pray. We, the kids, used to get cocoa or milk for breakfast. Then it was lunch, Kiddush again, and again blessing of challot. Cooking on Saturdays wasn’t allowed. There were some devices made of nickel sheet metal, and we would put it up on the stove and cover it with a blanket, we had a stove with a hearth. On Friday we would put a lot of coal in, so that the heat would stay until the next day and keep the food warm.

Mom used to begin to prepare Sabbath on Thursday. On Friday she would cook from the very morning. Depending on which week it was, she prepared various meals, either fish or beef, but we always had to have chicken soup. We weren’t allowed to buy dead fish. Fish had to be alive. We usually took carp. Because there are acceptable and unacceptable fish. The acceptable ones had to have scales and fins. Mom would buy such a fish on Thursday. She would put it in the water so that it could live till Friday. On Friday she’d hit it in the head with a hammer and she’d start the cooking.

First you would scrape off the scales with a special knife – it went very quickly. Then you would gut it. Some people used to throw out all the guts, others used to separately clean intestines and add them to a broth. For taste and its gelatin content. Of course you had to be careful so that the bile wouldn’t break. After scraping off the scales, you would cut the head off. And some again gouged the eyes out, others left them in, and then added the head to the broth. Then you would roll the rest of the fish in flour, add some salt and wait for the broth.

There was fish, onions and some carrots in the broth. Some used to add a bit of root parsley. The vegetables would cook for about 15, 20 minutes, and then the pieces of fish were added. Then again 15, 20 minutes under a lid – of course you’d add some salt, appropriately, sometimes you’d have it sweet, some people would add more salt and pepper, and others no pepper but sugar. I know that some people used to even add raisins. And, after 15 minutes you had to taste it. How does it taste? And add salt, pepper, sugar to taste – depending on how you liked it. Then you’d remove the pot from the fire so that the fish absorbed the taste of the broth. They you’d put the pieces of fish on a special plate, pour the broth on them, so that it would set into a jelly.

That was regular fish. But there was also gefilte fish – that was the whole ceremony. You had to, after the washing and cleaning, separate the skin from the meat. The meat was ground or chopped. Then you’d add some fine bread crumbs to that mass, and sometimes also some white flour. Season it. Then the stuffing was wrapped in the fish skin and boiled. Of course you’d add a bit of pepper, some salt, as you normally would to stuffing. And that was gefilte fish. That is, a stuffed fish.

Aside from that we had chicken soup for Sabbath. I have to admit, in passing, that I was always upset – because on Friday due to all that preparation there was no time to cook dinner, and Mom always made barley soup with rice. Now I like barley soup, the war taught me everything, but back then I hated it.

Then dusk came, the house had to be spotless clean, where we had hardwood floors, not finished but raw wood, they had to be dutifully washed. We were a semi well-off family, at times Mom had some hired help. Especially later, when she was sick, because she had problems with her lungs – at the time I didn’t understand it, but now I know she was hemorrhaging. In lungs or bronchi.

In any way, before dusk the table was covered with a white tablecloth, candleholders on top, wine, bread, challot – Father used to sit in front of the challot. There were as many candles as the kids in the house, plus two large ones. When the entire family got together, Mother would light the candles and say the prayer. At times she would cry. Then Father would bless everybody and we would go to the synagogue. The prayers there used to last for an hour at most. And when we came back home we had a prayer where Father would greet the family. For Saturday already.

Father would sit at the table, we would sit around and he would pour the wine. We usually had home-made wine. We didn’t buy it. Father used to make it himself. At home there was a huge bottle, where he would put raisins, sugar, water, and then he’d leave it so that it got strong. For a couple months. Then he would pour it into bottles through a gauze. And it was delicious. Strong. Your head would spin if you drank too much. Father would pour everyone a glass and would say the Kiddush. Everyone stood up and went to wash their hands. Then we’d all sit down and have our wine.

Father would take the cloth off the challot, hand it out, and say the prayer again. Mom used to bake challot at home herself. I liked watching her do it. And then we would start with the fish – everybody would get their part. We had vodka with the fish. The vodka was called Bongut. It was a 190 proof Bongut. Plain white vodka. Father used to buy it in regular stores. I don’t know if it was kosher, but nobody looked for kosher in vodka. At first Father drank it alone. When supper began, Father would first say the prayer with the grape wine, and all the kids had glasses and got some wine. And they also said the prayer after Father. We all stood up, said ‘Amen’ and then we all took a small sip. And when I was, I remember, 13 years old, I got half a glass of vodka. Those were small glasses.

After the fish there was chicken soup with noodles, after the soup we had meat. Later there was stewed fruit compote and various cookies. Sometimes we had guests late at night, and when we got a bit older, we used to go downtown. After the supper the kids would go downtown, and Mom and Dad stayed at home. Sometimes they would go together for a walk, too, especially initially, but later they wouldn’t, they were too tired. In fact, they mostly rested. Some people used to go to a ‘korso,’ a promenade. I used to go to Akiba 7, my scout organization.

Member of Akiba

My entire youth was concentrated around Akiba. Everything I did, one way or another conformed to the scout organization. Bene Akiba [Bnei Akiba] was a Jewish scout organization, organized by the same religious party as the school [Mizrachi]. In the school building there was even a special room for the scouts. Religious-nationalist youth belonged to it. And normally like in all scout organizations: scout uniforms, trips, badges, we learned orienteering, using maps.

When I finished that four-year school and I was already in another school, I used to go to Bene Akiba every day. Especially when I stopped going to cheder, I was twelve, thirteen, I used to go there every day, in the evening. I spent there and hour or two, because I had to be back home by 10pm. At 10pm there was a szpera, the gates were being closed [‘szpera’ – from German: ‘sperren’ – to lock]. So I absolutely had to be back at 10. That was Friday.

At some point I even was one of the organization’s leaders. Our unit was co-educational. After I graduated from public school, I decided to go to a vocational school, because that was the trend in the unit. We propagated the slogan ‘let’s be like all other nations.’ That is, let’s be a nation like all the other ones, let’s not be a nation of only merchants.

There was among us, friends, one girl, her name was Helena – we used to call her the beautiful Helena. We all had a crush on that beautiful Helena. I was almost 13. I was supposed to prepare for my bar mitzvah. That’s a big celebration, you have to know how to say various prayers, and you have to know a lot about the synagogue. Father paid one teacher who was supposed to prepare me, but I would, instead of going to the teacher, go out with friends to Chytra Gora [Crafty Hill]. It was really called Gora Stracenia [Execution Hill] – its name came from the fact that they killed four soldiers of the January Uprising 8, there was even a monument, but we called it differently.

We would meet in the place where once there used to be a sand mine, and only slag heaps were left there now. We used to jump up from those slag heaps, whoever jumped further. Helena would kiss the one who jumped furthest. A few times I jumped furthest, but then my other friend, Zafyk Goldfinger was better. In fact, they went out together, he and Helena, he was hers and she was his. He was a handsome, tall boy. Later he went to London to study. During the war he was in the English air force. He died.

As for my bar mitzvah, that’s the way it was like: It happened on Saturday, when I turned 13, it was probably on 15th August 1931. Because I was born, I think, on 15th August, but in Russia they made it 15th June. But among Jews, when it comes to bar mitzvah, we use the Hebrew calendar. It was kuf zayin Tammuz, the 27th day of the month Tammuz. So then, on the Saturday morning, I went to the synagogue. The entire family was there, friends as well. There is a bimah in the synagogue; during the prayer, the person reading the Torah called me out at some point. I got the tallit, said the prayer and read that verse by myself. After it finished they tossed almonds and various candy at me. Everyone congratulated to me. Afterwards there was a special dinner at home.

Religious life and zionism

My religion was really just about following tradition. We used to have discussions among us friends. Also about whether God exists or not. Opinions varied. We all had doubts. At that age you had doubts in general. I conformed to the religion, but not in a barbarian way, in a more humane way. As long as I was little I used to go to the synagogue with Father to pray, on holidays and always on Saturdays. Later, when I was 15, 16, I did it less and less. In the end I decided there is some higher power that controls the world without our knowledge. It definitely has no beard and no human shapes. It’s just a spirit. Because the Jewish religion sees God not in a human form, but in the form of a spirit. But later I had a depression, to be honest, when the war broke out, I decided that in reality everything is inconceivable.

For summer holidays we used to go to relatives, to a small town near Lwow, which was called Prusy [ca. 8 km from Lwow]. I could have been 14, 15 at the time. The last name of those relatives was Diamant and they were farmers, they had land in Prusy. We used to spend there a month or two – depending on the conditions. They had a huge farm. They also bred beautiful horses. I was fascinated by those horses. Other than that I also went to a scout camp once, we had a camp near Czortkow [ca. 120 km south-east of Lwow, today in Ukraine].

After I graduated from elementary school I went to a public vocational school. It was an Industrial Technical College. It was located at Snopkowa Street. It was a public school. There were really very few Jews there. Teachers were also mostly Polish. I went there for four years. We learned technical subjects: learned about materials, and also bookkeeping for the needs of a small company. There was also mathematics, physics. I wanted to become a mechanic, but I graduated as a metal technician. After finishing the school [1936] I received a special diploma. I was still young, to tell you the truth, I didn’t like work much. It was summertime, I wanted to go to Wysoki Zamek [Higher Castle, one of sites on the Lwow Hill], to go to a pool. I was also a sportsman.

I trained in track and field in Dror. Dror was a sports club. In Hebrew it’s the name of a bird, a swallow. It may also mean freedom, but in this case it was a club, ‘Jaskolka’ [Polish for swallow]. It was located where Execution Hill was. Before the hills there was a field, a stadium, we used to go there to train. Later I practiced boxing. It was a sports club, Hasmonea 9. It was known in Poland, especially when it came to soccer, they had been Polish champions for I don’t know how many years. In boxing too. So I trained in boxing, but not for long. I got hit in the nose once, and later, while I was protecting my nose, I got hit in the stomach. At the end I also practiced jujitsu, but I wasn’t a professional. And we played soccer. We had our own scouts’ team. I remember I played in midfield or in defense, because in soccer there is a close co-operation between midfield and defense.

I started working for real later, at Gasper’s. It was a bicycle and scale factory. At the beginning I worked at Neuman’s, a factory of precious metal products. We made tableware, silver – everything was handmade. We mostly worked with galvanization, with which we could cover silver with color. The production mostly went for export, to England. Aside from that we made some things by die cutting, for example spoons. It was called ‘sznyty’ in Lwow. First we’d cut it, then work on processing it. The salary at Neuman’s was very poor, the only thing that kept me there was hope that when I learn it, I’d have a profession.

My parents didn’t plan on going to Palestine, because of their health and finances. For such a large family to leave to Israel [Editor’s note: until 1948 – Palestine], we’d had to have strong financial backup. Father would have no existence there – he was an invalid, his leg was injured. But I was preparing to go to Palestine from the earliest years. We were to build kibbutzim there – back then Palestine was desert and swamps.

We had various brochures in Akiba, and we had discussions. We used to read, we read a lot. Newspapers, books, whatever we liked. Activists carried out propaganda. ‘Be like any other nation.’ Our slogan was ‘Let’s be kehol hagoim!’, ‘like other nations!’ Let’s have our own doctors, locksmiths, farmers. Because Jews in Poland dealt mostly with trade, handicrafts, craftsmanship. And there was intelligence. And we were saying ‘No.’ We should be locksmiths. We are supposed to build a country in Israel [Editor’s note: Palestine]. That’s why I quit high school and went to the industrial college. Even though my parents were very much against it. Mom dreamed about me becoming a doctor, Father wanted me to become a rabbi. But I thought differently.

One of us, Akiba activists, was Rabbi Fiszman – an activist of the international level. In the 1930s, I was 15 or 16 at the time, Fiszman came to Lwow for a Zionist organizations convention. I didn’t take part in that convention, because I was a bodyguard for Fiszman – me, Aldek and Lutwak. We were kind of stewards. We accompanied him everywhere, we even went to the hotel he slept in.

When it comes to the structure of the country, my group had religious and nationalist ideas. We were basing it on cannons you can find in the Bible, which has a lot of social rules, for example there is a law not to pick up from the borders of a field, because that’s for the poor. On the 7th day you cannot hire anyone – a Jew or a non-Jew – everyone’s supposed to rest. If someone had debts, after seven years the debt was annulled. There was a whole set of social rules in the Bible. We were basing our ideas on those rules, but taking progress and current conditions into account.

Our goal was to create an independent country. The main means were going there, buying out land and building kibbutzim. In Palestine there were about 450 thousand Arabs, no more, some of them were hired farmers, and some were nomads. A few wealthy sheiks – rich Arabs – owned land. There was a special Jewish organization there. Keren Kayemet Leisrael 10, they were collecting money from Jews all over the world to fund buying out the land. There was also Keren Hayesod 11, a fund for settling there, for building house complexes and so on. We never talked about military action. Other organizations might have been leaning more towards it, especially a revisionist organization, under the command of Jabotynski 12, they had a youth scout organization, called Brith Trumpledor 13. Betar wanted to have a country on both sides of the Jordan. They were buying land there. They used this slogan: ‘A man has two hands, and this one is mine, and that one is mine. And the Jordan has two banks – both this one and the other are ours.’

Various Zionist organizations didn’t keep in touch with one another. If we ever discussed political issues with each other, we did it only if we knew each other – if you knew someone, you’d discuss it with him. We knew each other from schools, we knew about each other. Each organization had its own idea about the country, we never talked about how it would function once the country existed. We all wanted to create the country, but how it was to be organized, everyone had a different idea. It was our dream to have a country, free as any other country, as all other nations. And we even used to sing songs.

I didn’t manage to go to Palestine – there were restrictions when it came to leaving. England imposed some limitations, we had to wait in line 14. Here, in the country, there were special places which prepared you for going to Israel, they were called hakhsharah 15. They were prepared you for the living conditions in Israel in kibbutzim. Hakhsharah were organized on farms, not only Jewish, sometimes those were Polish farms, which employed members of our organizations, usually students. The organization decided who would go to a hakhsharah. Akiba had arrangements with some farms, and used to send people there. Going through a hakhsharah gave you the possibility of obtaining a certificate for going to Palestine. I was at the end of the line, because there were older people than me, I was younger than them.

I spent three months on a hakhsharah, it wasn’t long, usually the stay lasted half a year, but I had a specific profession already then – I was a mechanic, I counted on specializing before going to Palestine. Our hakhsharah was co-educational. There were some contacts with farm owners and they hired our members. The work was normal, like on a farm. We got up like farmers – early in the morning, worked like farm-hands, like farm workers. We slept in the worst conditions – overall very primitive. We learned agriculture, worked on the farm. It was meant to prepare boys and girls for living in difficult conditions. Swamps and desert. Hunger and poverty. People right after graduating from high-school, before starting university and even during their studies used to go there.

In the evening we used to get together and sing by the fire, mainly songs made up by organizations. The lyrics were ideological, mainly that we’re going to Israel singing and joyful. Lots of songs like that, mainly in Hebrew. The most popular dance was hora 16. It had two variations, there was a wild hora and an ordinary hora. When dancing hora we all got together, held each others’ arms and danced in circles. In the wild hora, four people grabbed each others’ arms and danced faster and faster.

So there were some very patriotic songs and some more playful ones. We always had time for singing and dancing there. A patriotic one was for example this one: ‘Let the hands of our brothers preparing the land in Israel get stronger. Let them not lose their spirit but let them serve the nation with joy and happiness.’ That’s one of those patriotic songs. Then there was another one, actually it was more of a dance, because we used to dance the horas as well. ‘We will emigrate to Israel with joy and singing.’

Then there were these more playful ones, for example: ‘A straw hat, a torn up ‘rubashka’ shirt,’ because it was popular to wear these Ukrainian ‘rubashka’ shirts then, no collar, plain Ukrainian clothing, ‘This merchant – seller, is a bandit. He doesn’t want to give you credit. But don’t mind it, laugh out loud. Ha, ha! That’s the right advice. Leave everything and laugh in a wild voice. Ha, ha!’ That wasn’t one of our songs, but one sung by pioneers in Israel.

There was also this patriotic song: ‘I turn to Jerusalem, because hundreds of generations I’ve dreamed about you, about looking in the light of your face. Jerusalem. I’ve dreamed for hundreds of years to look in the light of your eyes. Jerusalem, light your light!’ And later: ‘I will rebuild you from the ruins.’ Those were patriotic songs. There were lots of them. If I started remembering…

During the war

In 1939 the war broke out 17. The Germans reached Lwow and stopped on the perimeter of the city, captured Execution Hill, they were pushed out of the station and the fighting lasted ten days. I have no proof, but I did take part in the defense of Lwow 18. In the Jewish unit of the scouts. There were several regiments. I remember 19, 26, 40… so these regiments went to the front and there were many Jewish men there, because that was a normal recruitment. Only so-called administrative, quartermaster units stayed. And they fought against the Germans in the city. Firemen, police, school scout regiments, and just young people: there were also very many Jews there. I remember that the recruitment headquarters was on Batorego Street. A lot of people went there, but they didn’t accept everyone, because they didn’t have enough weapons for everybody.

We volunteered to defend Lwow and we had an opposition point in the ‘Dublany’ Agricultural College. The center was in Polish, our hands, and the Germans were up on the hills from which they were shooting at us. After ten days of sitting in the shelters we heard, all of a sudden, that Russians are coming to aid us. They were saying the Soviet Army was entering in order to liberate those areas. We didn’t understand their real goals 19. The Germans issued a notice urging all civilians to leave the city in the southern direction, through Lyczakowska Street, because they were going to attack the city as a military target [Lyczakowska: the main street of the district in the eastern part of the city, leading to the city limits]. They decided to bomb the entire city, so they ordered the civilians to leave the city.

It was a tragedy. Some decided to leave the city; others decided that whatever happens, happens. I began going around, saying goodbye to relatives, to friends, because my family decided to stay – Father was handicapped, there were small children. We stayed in a shelter. At night – silence. Usually there was shooting at night – then silence, and in the morning a Polish soldier comes in and yells: ‘The war is over!’ Literally: ‘The war is over!’

It turned out that those who had access to a radio in their basements, heard that Russians announced on the radio that they are entering Poland to help their brothers. They, Russians, meant, of course, help for Ukrainians, liberation of Ukraine. But people didn’t understand. If they were entering the city, against Germans – they were allies. So when there was this silence and it was known that the Russians were coming, to those who had been expecting death, it was joy! And the Germans withdrew. You could still hear some far away machine gun shots.

After a few hours the Russian army marched in. They looked very disappointingly, they behaved very disappointingly. First of all, Polish uniforms, compared to theirs, looked very elegant, we looked like aristocracy. They, the Russians, were wearing some poor belts, not leather, but some canvas, and those big hats. And there were some Mongol units with them. And those guns on strings. Yes, I’m not kidding, many had them. They walked silently. People came out to greet them, and they started shooting. Over there, in Lyczakow, there were still opposition points, but usually everyone, both Poles and Jews, were treating them like saviors, because they imagined that the Germans entering the city would have been the worst possibility.

After some time the only ones happy about the Russians were small groups of communists. There weren’t too many communists in Lwow, most Jews belonged to either Zionist or Assimilators Organizations 20. Bund 21 was rather weak. That small group of communists – they were the only ones greeting the Russians happily. Most Jews knew it was a misfortune.

My father was 54 then, he was a fairly energetic man, but broke down completely. Totally. He even stopped going out on the streets. The barracks were near our house, and when they were walking around, singing their songs, he would shut the windows. He changed completely. He started suffering from depression. He didn’t believe in the end of the war, as people believed the war would end and Russians have come to help. Father thought the war would last, and the Russians wouldn’t be able to resist and wouldn’t want to leave. He knew the history of Russian revolutions [in 1905 and 1917], the history of communism, processes that took place there, and considered them barbarians. One of my uncles was imprisoned there, in the USSR and when he came back he also told us a lot about them. Mother was also very shaken. But at that time Mother was already very sick.

When the Russians entered Lwow, I was employed at Neuman’s. The factory was then state-owned and functioned as a workers’ cooperative. I worked there until October 1940, until I was drafted into the Soviet Army. They drafted men born in 1917, 1918, 1919 – there was nothing I could do about it, I had to go. It was 18th October 1940. That’s an important date, that was the Sukkot holiday. Just like now it is the Holiday of Booths. And I remember on the last day of Sukkot I was supposed to go to the drafting point. I was waiting for Father. Father was in the prayer house, and I was ready to say goodbye. I remember as if it was today, Father, Mother, they hugged me somehow, and Father gave me a prayer: ahl tirah mi-pahad pitom… Do not be overwhelmed by sudden terror. Because there used to be kosher food at our house. As a goodbye Father said: ‘You’ll be forced to eat everything there. Remember, life requires compromise, but when you eat pork, remember not to lick the bones!’ It was supposed to be humor. He went with me with Mother and my girlfriend at the time, Ania, whom I probably would have married if it hadn’t been for the war.

The drafting point was in the 5th High School in Lwow. They, the Soviets, made us volunteers. There was a big class in the school, a large table and Russian officers sat there, and some civilians, and on the left there was a female doctor with a scale. She measured the height and we had to stand in front of her naked, like the day we were born. She checked whether you had venereal disease. Can you imagine, a young boy, I was completely innocent, really. I was shocked, stressed.

I considered using one of the underground organizations, which dealt with moving people from Vilnius to Israel. Those scout, Jewish youth organizations took care of it. I didn’t go for 2 reasons. There were small kids at home, Father was depressed, he wasn’t able to do anything. Mother was sick – I couldn’t leave them alone. Father was 56 then, Mother was a year younger. Besides, I belonged to the group that organized those transports. We were afraid, that if I didn’t come forward, if I ran away, then they’d send them [the family] to Siberia 22 as uncertain elements. Lwow had the status of a border city and everyone considered an uncertain element, was deported to Siberia.

Ania and I met in that school scouting organization, Bene Akiba. She was also getting ready to go to Israel. Her parents even sent her to a dressmaking course. Special, esthetic dressmaking. So, how should I say, she wasn’t my fiancée, because we were too young, but we went out for walks, and we even kissed. It’s difficult for me to say today what I liked about her. She was a blonde, nicely built, active, fit. She was intelligent, bright, had a sense of beauty.

When the war broke out, I used to help her family. There was hunger. People were afraid to leave their houses. Everything was closed. But I had a way to get to some grocery articles. So I used to pick some up for them, too. And later she got depressed. Her parents knew that we liked each other, so they wanted her to stay in the shelter with us, with me. We went separate ways when I was drafted into the army, and she stayed at home. But we kept in touch. She even sent pictures when I was in the army. Ania died during the war. She was probably taken with my family. She is a nice memory to me today. And when we pray for the deceased, I always say a prayer for her, too.

Since I was a mechanic, I was sent to serve in the air force. They sent me to an air force base near Kursk [400 km east from Kiev, today in Russia]. Oh, what vicissitudes… how they transported us there, how we got there… that’d be a long story! And the conditions that were there… in the Russian army. Well, but we were young. At home, Mom used to cry when I had a sore throat, but there I simply never got sick.

When the war broke out in 1941 23 – we were in Kursk – our unit was supposed to move east. We were standing at the main train station, there was a huge disarray, chaos, lots of trains. Some of my friends from Lwow decided to wait for the Germans to come. None of us believed the Germans murdered so badly. It was June, there were grain fields around the station, they decided to go in the field and wait there for the transport to leave. They tried to talk me into it, but I said I was a soldier and I wouldn’t go. In the end three guys ran away: two Jews and one Ukrainian. When they were sitting in the grain, a horrible air raid began, fire broke out. They were certain our train had burned down, and when they got back to Lwow, they told my family that I had died. I am almost certain Father didn’t believe it.

There were 57 airplanes in our unit at that time. Fifty new ones and seven of an old type. In a few weeks all 50 were shot down. What turned out? That they were designed in such a way that the board shooter was in the field of fire of the airships. When they figured out what was wrong, they put the shooter in the tail of the plane. I was such a tail shooter.

In 1941 I was wounded during a German air raid on the airport. I had general injury, I was wounded with shrapnel – I had a damaged eye and I lost my hearing. I got to a field hospital in Chelyabinsk [city 1500 km from Moscow, to the east of the Ural Mountains], where they removed the splinter from my eye. Conditions in that hospital were such that I don’t even want to talk about them. I remember once we got as a treat some curds – not even half a glass. I stayed in that hospital for a few months. Maybe two, I don’t remember exactly. Then I returned to the unit. The Germans were shooting at our planes from nearby forests. Those were far-reaching bullets, but it was still far to the front, they were called DB3. They used to shoot at the most dangerous moment – during the take off of a plane – you can’t jump out or maneuver then, because the plane is falling down. Those are the worst moments.

They announced in the army the attack was an effect of sabotage, and they started picking out ‘uncertain elements’ from the units. Every day during the assemblies reports would come in, and you could hear: ‘Step out, step out, step out.’ I, like other Poles, was called out as well. Those who stayed were probably serving in the NKVD 24. They tried to recruit me as well, but my father had told me: ‘Remember, don’t get into any, absolutely any, espionage.’ And I listened to Father and wanted to avoid it at all cost. It was in the fall of 1941. There was tall grain standing in the fields. There was no one to harvest it, so it stayed. They sent us in the direction of the forests near Kursk.

There was a big army camp in the forests near Kursk, a large one, there were about 500,000 people there. They took us there. It was a training camp. Recruiters walked around with no shoes on, with nothing, and as soon as they got weapons, they went to the front. But that was the healthy element. We were kept there idle, nothing – we just sat there and ate. Other battalions trained, and we did nothing: there was only breakfast, lunch, supper – mediocre… We lived in dugouts and tents. It lasted for eight, ten days. In the morning, on our way to the canteen, we would hear Polish songs somewhere in the camp. We heard they were going to create a Polish army, that there are some Polish units in the camp. Others said we were going to be taken to Siberia.

In the end they removed us from the camp. We went to Kursk, to the train station, one company after another. We were many – about 1 000 people for sure. People who came from Lwow and surrounding areas. Mostly those uncertain elements. Everybody sang legion, shooter songs, they also sang the funeral march [Polish patriotic songs]. I think we stood on the train station in Kursk for a full day, there was no available railroad track. It was the time of general withdrawal from the west, railroads were busy, trains bombed. In the end they gave us a piece of lard and bread, and later put us into cattle cars. We went east, we ended up on the border of Siberia and Ural, on the Kyshtym station [100 km from Chelyabinsk].

From Kyshtym we went on foot about 15 kilometers into the woods. There was a lake there. In the deep forest it turned out that we were a special battalion, a so-called spec-battalion, with military discipline, any disobedience was punished with a shot to the head. We were commanded by Russians. They considered us spies and traitors. Our military ranks were disregarded. I was of a senior rank then, that was more or less a sergeant, but it meant nothing there. Those Russians – they abused us. They were criminals. There was a rule in Russia that a criminal doesn’t go to the front – they stay at the back. Only those with no criminal record went to the front. 
What was it like in that camp? We got off in the forest, they made us walk on foot tens of kilometers, in the end we ended up in some grass, who knows where. It was tough. It was late fall. There was already snow, freezing temperatures, at the beginning we slept on the bare ground. Later we dug dugouts ourselves, everything from scratch. Our task was to build a railroad to Kyshtym. They found graphite deposits in those forests. And they started to mine it. A factory was supposed to be built there.

When we got there, there was nothing around. We started some fire and built dugouts. Some of us were digging holes, others were cutting trees. A dugout’s walls and the top were covered with wooden beams, branches and undergrowth placed on top, and then all that was covered with soil. It was fairly warm inside. But moist. It was terribly wet out there. We had small metal stoves, we called them ‘fishes.’ They were in the shape of a prism lying on a side, the chimney went through the roof. There was a lot of fire wood, since we lived in the forest. During a day those who were sick and couldn’t go to work took care of the fire.

The food was very meager. Once, when some inspection from Moscow was supposed to come, they started feeding us all of a sudden. They gave us ‘galushki’ then – that’s Russian, those were noodles made of black flour. We all got sick then, because they gave us a lot of it, full bowls, and our stomachs weren’t used to eating then. We usually got up at 5am and marched to the canteen a couple kilometers away from the camp. They would give us cabbage broth… well, there were a few cabbage leaves floating in it. The cook also had a pot from which he would give us a spoonful of oil. That’s what the food was like.

In the morning we also used to get a daily portion of bread. The bread was moist, made of that dark flour – they said there was more bran, potatoes, than flour. And now you had a problem: should you eat it all at once, or break it into three parts; some people ate it all at once, others hid it somewhere in the dugout to have something after work. Some others took a pot and cooked the bread in salty water. The bread would swell up, and you could fill yourself up with it, but it ended up with swelling. And they were tall sprightly people. They used to bring us lunch to work, to the forest. It was usually the same cabbage broth, sometimes we had dried fish. The fish was very hard, it was quite difficult to eat it. I always said we’d get used to it.

We were furious. When we fought in the war, we had distinctions, here we were degraded, dishonored, brought down to the rank of a regular soldier. Our commanders were bandits. The temperature went below -45 degrees C, and they brought us there in summer clothes. After some time donkey jackets, hats and boots arrived, but those thugs sold them. Criminals. We didn’t believe a word they said. We thought they would loose the war. We wondered where we’d withdraw: to Manjuria, to China? But we didn’t believe they would win the war – no way. No one believed it.

There were a few Jews among us. They had a Jewish calendar. One day we heard that Yom Kippur falls on a certain day. I decided not to eat. Because to us it’s a day of a very strict fast. I wanted to do it to honor my parents. I said I was sick. I didn’t get up from bed in the morning, they brought me bread from the kitchen, but I didn’t eat. In the camp, when someone didn’t eat, that meant he was very sick. The commander came to me: ‘What’s up?’ I said, ‘I don’t know.’ They made me walk to the hospital point – about 10 kilometers from our camp. A shack made of bare stones. It was terribly cold in there. There was one doctor, a medic really, and one orderly – Franciszek, a Pole, who liked me. And that medic wasn’t a bad man either, an older man. The only medicine he had – no matter what you were sick with – he dyed your back with some brown liquid and gave you an aspirin.

I stayed in the hospital for about five or six weeks. After two weeks my temperature dropped down to 35 degrees C, I was very weak. Then they signed me out because there was a rule – ‘no fever – go back to the camp.’ I remember there was a snow storm on that day. I started walking towards the camp, but then that Franciszek called, ‘Hey, stop!’ It turned out he convinced the medic I should stay. And so I stayed in the hospital again.

After some time I returned to the camp. It was terribly freezing again. I took a shortcut through a lake. Night. Taiga, wolves howled. It was extremely windy on that lake. Once I got to the camp, I was sick again. I was shivering in the dugout. They didn’t take me to the forest the next morning. Some people they used to take by force, but they didn’t take me. I lied in bed at the camp then. I dried my bread on the stove and sliced it. Then I would put the slices around me, no one had any doubts I was very sick, I had so much bread around me.

Once the battalion commander came up to me and started asking whether I had any family in Russia, they wanted to get rid of me. But I had no one, so I stayed. There were a few of us sick, there were also a few marauders. Just like at Svejk’s [Josef Svejk, a Czech literature hero: a dim-witted and good natured dealer of dogs from Prague, who, due to ill fate, is sent to war]. There was one guy at the camp – Fryderyk and another one from Lwow, I don’t remember his name. At night we would sit around the stove, they would lean against the wall, one would play a mandolin, the other sang. This is when I heard the song ‘This is why I miss summer’ for the first time, it was a very popular song, but I didn’t know it then. There were some other songs, too, but this one was the favorite one. My memories are often tied to songs. Or to sunshine.

Once in a while a sanitary vehicle used to come with clean underwear. What did it mean – clean?! They would put all dirty clothes into one steam boiler. The steam was never hot enough, so after washing – it was even worse. Not everyone got dirty to the same extent… some would get more dirty, I can’t say, but once they put everything into the same boiler. Then everyone had it even. But we got used to even that.

And one more thing: despite the conditions in the camp, people were somehow surviving in our group. We weren’t dying there. There was one suicide, a young man hanged himself in the forest. Another one died – fell through a hole into the frozen lake – because we used to fish and catch crawfish in holes in the lake to have some more food. But until the time I left nobody from the group died of emaciation.

Not far from us there was a camp of the Estonian battalion. Estonians, large men, because Estonia was wealthy before the war. They used to call us the army of Saint Kinga because we were very small, I was 1,71 meter tall and was one of the tallest [St. Kinga: a patron of the poor and unfortunate]. And those were huge men, and they were dying in masses. They must have had other needs that their organisms couldn’t take it.

When the Germans were near Stalingrad 25 in the summer of 1942, all forces had to be mobilized to the front, a telegram came to our camp that all military specialists should be sent back to Chelyabinsk. There were many specialists, but the commanders wanted to get rid of those weakest, those worst ones. Because there was no use for them. And I was a specialist, so they picked me. I could have gotten out of it. Guys were trying to talk me into it, but… it’s the war and there was no place for me there. So I went to Chelyabinsk and to an air force unit from there. I wasn’t able to serve in the air force, but as an air force specialist I was assigned to PARM. PARM stands for a Mobile Air Mechanic. We had a tent and a bus, and in that bus there was a turning lathe and other tools needed to fix planes. I think we were 15 people there.

In PARM I found out that the Wasilewska Army 26 was being created. Well, first there was Anders’ Army 27, but we didn’t know anything about it. Just some gossip, reached us. And we had no way of getting out of the camp. Only when we were back in the normal army, we had access to information. A Polish army was supposed to be created in Riazan [ca. 200 km south-east of Moscow]. We started writing rapports asking for relocation. There were huge difficulties.

In the end they moved us to a rallying point in Chelyabinsk. After a few days it turned out that we were about to be sent not to a Polish, but to a Russian unit. Then we started to rebel. Heniek Poringier was the leader of the protest. They arrested that Poringier and two others, and they thought they’d break us this way, but they didn’t. The news about us got to Wanda Wasilewska. We put our foot down. In the end an order came in and they finally sent us to the Polish unit. First we went to Moscow, and from there were supposed to be sent to the Polish unit.

In Moscow I met a Polish soldier for the first time. It was a huge joy for us, to see a man in a Polish uniform. It was Franek. There were so many Franeks before the war! He was surprised we were wearing Russian uniforms, and we started telling him why and what, and he bought us beer. We were surprised there was beer. We thought things like that didn’t exist in the world. And in Moscow there was beer and… later we found out that for commanders there was even some cognac.

The second night we spent at the Kursk train station, on stone floors, wrapped in greatcoats – one end under the head, the other under the legs, so that it was warmer. In the morning – suddenly a loud noise and from the speakers we heard a Polish fight song. Such a beautiful melody. The ceiling was very high at the station, and it really made an impression, it could really get you up. We checked in at the command, they gave us documents and a military permit to the unit in Chelm [150 km north of Lwow]. It was fall 1944.

We were supposed to go from Moscow to Minsk and then to Chelm. But we decided to go to Kiev and Lwow. It was desertion, but it was all chaos then, a mess. We spent three days in Lwow because everyone wanted to visit various places. There was martial law in Lwow then. It meant that Lwow was seized by Russia [then USSR], but Ukrainians were terrorizing everyone wherever they went. I went to my house, but didn’t find anyone. The house was there, but some Russian lived there. The door was locked. And later I was afraid to go there. I met one Jewish family that survived. Apart from them, everyone died 28. Only that one family from the neighborhood was saved, and it happened in an interesting way.

It was a deeply orthodox family. Father with a beard and so on. Before the war they had a textile store. The son had passed the high-school exams – his name was Richter, he was such a mama’s boy. Most of us were sportsmen, rascals, and he was a mama’s boy. He was never active, only thought about the high-school exams. When the war broke out he escaped from the camp on Janowska Street. The same one my brother was in. He ran away to the partisans. And later he showed up one day in an SS uniform and took his entire family out of the camp. I would have never believed if somebody had told me that before the war, that he would be capable of something like that. He took his family to the forests in the Volyn area, to partisans. I don’t exactly know what groups those were, Russian, Ukrainian, or some mixed ones, but his entire family survived. I learned about my family’s fate from them.

There was widespread distrust. I went to their place, they were afraid of me, they thought I may be in the NKVD. They didn’t even offer tea. But they told me everything they knew about my family. When the Germans were catching people in a raid, my family used to hide in canals, but one day a janitor gave them away, and the Germans took them. They took them on a tram-car platform, most likely to the camp on Janowska Street 29. I don’t know what happened to them. They used to send some people immediately for annihilation, others were selected for labor. So I don’t know, maybe they went straight to Belzec 30. But I do know what happened to Wilhelm and Michas.

Wilek, as I already said earlier, was a bad rascal as a young boy, and used to hang around with coachmen, which turned out useful when he got to the camp. He worked as a coachman. He also got help from friends from the sports club Hasmonea that we both had belonged to. People were trying to talk him into escaping from the camp. In the end he decided to do that, and began preparing documents and looking for a place for himself and for the youngest one – Michas. When everything was almost ready, one day he came home from work and the youngest brother was gone. And then he decided to stay in the camp.

I learned about all that from that Richter. Because throughout the entire war I had no news, Soviets told us that the Germans were murdering, burning, setting up camps. We couldn’t imagine that a civilized nation could murder an entire society in cold blood. My father spent a lot of time in Vienna, he had surgery there, and he was full of admiration for the German culture. We had German books at home, and so on. I understood that it could have been some onslaught, dissolute mob murdering people, pogroms, but to murder people in such a planned way? We thought it was Russian propaganda. Because they told us things like that on talks.

I also went to the house where Ania, my girlfriend, used to live. They told me they had taken her and her entire family away, only one sister, some younger one, escaped. Her house was near the hill called Execution Hill. That sister hid in the bushes there, lived there. Sometimes she would come to houses, and they gave her a piece of bread or something… and then she disappeared. She either died somewhere there, or they took her. So, everyone died.

Before leaving Lwow and going to Lublin I went to the Jewish Committee 31, located in Lwow in the same synagogue my Father used to go to. They took over some place that Jews coming back from forests, from camps, could go to in order to let them know they were alive. Because there were such after-the-war searches for people. And they also helped by giving food. Those were offices of registration and aid. I though that maybe I’ll find out something about my family. They had no information about them, they only gave me a list of people from partisanship asking me to give it to a colonel in Lublin [city ca. 200 km north-west from Lwow] 32. Colonel Kahane was the main rabbi in the Polish Army before the war, he even taught me religion at school once. So I delivered him that list. Because, instead of going to Chelm, I went to Lublin.

We were several people, maybe 11 or 12, that left Moscow then. Our commander had an envelope where he kept all our documents. When we were in Lwow and found out what was happening in Poland, our commander gave us the documents back and told us we were free to do whatever we thought appropriate. Most of us were not in favor of communism. Some decided to go into forests, others somewhere else. I decided to go to the unit in Lublin, even though they were trying to talk me out of it, especially since anti-Semitic accidents were happening often in the army then. There were deaths. There was, for example, a man, a sergeant, from Bialystok I remember, he got time off to see his family and apparently they shot him there.

It was the worst when you met people from the NSZ 33, but in other places it was tough as well. I never experienced it myself, but I heard about many incidents, and I also saw a lot. I remember for example when in Lublin, in a night rest point for demobilized soldiers, on 13 Browarna Street, they threw Jewish disabled war veterans off the top bunk beds. Because in barracks there were bunk beds, and a stone floor between them. So there were a couple of war veterans there, with no legs, high on those beds, they were asleep, and people from the NSZ threw them down onto the floor. I was there, I heard it, but couldn’t do anything. It was dark, night, everyone’s asleep, and all of a sudden you heard screams…

In Lublin I arrived at a rallying point located at a former death camp on Majdanek 34. I got to a training battalion. I could have gone much higher since I had pilot’s papers, but I wanted to go to the front then. I wasn’t able to fly, so I hid the pilot certificate, and I still have it until this day. I showed them documents saying I am an aviation specialist and went to the training unit.

I was very upset during the stay at Majdanek. Bones scrunched under your feet. I remember a Polish sign chiseled on the wall in the kitchen: here this and that, I don’t remember the name right now, killed 30 something people hitting them in the head with a hammer. There were stoves, bones, stacks of clothing… huge mountains of children’s clothing – all that was there. I will never forget the New Year’s Eve, or maybe it was Christmas Eve, I can’t remember right now. The weather was awful, windy, and the soldiers sang Christmas carols, drank, enjoyed themselves. They sang and that was a horrible experience to me. Graves all around them, and they were having a good time. I will never forget it.

I was moved from Lublin to Przemysl [town ca. 180 km south of Lublin], and then to Cracow to an Officer School. One night a group of Germans came to our area from Slovakia. I was hit with tiny shrapnel, I fell on the ground and was run over by a military vehicle, a heavy Studebaker – an American vehicle, weighing ten tons. That’s no joke. The Germans were gone, they escaped. Our cars were nearby, they took me there wrapped in a blanket. When they touched me – horrible pain, terrible. The doctors said my pelvis and lower vertebrae were broken in eight places. The spinal cord was damaged. My abdomen was open. After the surgery they couldn’t put me in a cast. Peritonitis developed. I was on morphine all the time. After some time I got pneumonia in both lungs. Every single one of these illnesses was enough to kill. I have documents for all that.

It was February or March 1945. I still had fever, I was really just waiting for death in the hospital. There was a young man from Lwow among us, a petty thief or something like that. They said he shot his finger only to get to the hospital. He was our good spirit. He would steal food from the nuns who took care of us. One night I felt really bad. That guy brought me a white tablet then. I passed out and was unconscious after it, but woke up in the morning and then there was a breakthrough. Everything went away. The fever went down, I started to improve. The doctor told me not to thank him: ‘God, providence, your organism –maybe that helped, but not medicine. Medicine was helpless here’ – he said.

For a long time afterwards I couldn’t remain standing up. I got around in a so-called tram-way. I folded a blanket several times and slid on it on the floor – the floors were polished. Once a new doctor came by, an officer released from a camp. He saw me how I was riding on the blanket and asked, ‘What’s that circus?!’ I said, ‘No, professor, it’s a tram-way, not a circus.’ And he said, ‘Circus! Go back to your room!’ He came by after a day or two and said, ‘Sit up. Stand up.’ I said I couldn’t, because I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t. Then he gave me his hand and I got up. Straight. I was shocked. He told me to stand up several times a day and look out the window. I started doing that.

I began walking with crutches, then with a cane. When I was able to walk, I went to the Jewish community in Cracow. It turned out there was a certain kibbutz operating there. Young people who returned from Soviet camps studied there. There was Hebrew language, they were preparing to go to Israel. I started visiting them, they got to like me. They were young kids, and I was a military man, and I also knew Hebrew, so I was a huge attraction to them.

Half a year passed. From Cracow they sent me to a military health resort in Kudowa [Kudowa Zdroj, 290 km south-west of Cracow]. I started climbing mountains. I never told anyone about it. I had Lwowian blood. After these walks I couldn’t move for two days, but after those two days, on the third one, I would walk again. I was a free man, I wore a uniform, I could go wherever I wanted to. It was close to the border with the Czech Republic.

I discovered an illegal transport point to Israel in an empty plane factory 35. Entire families, candidates waiting for an opportunity of going to Israel lived in barracks there. They had a place to sleep, food, and they waited there. They had no rooms or apartments, just common areas. The authorities knew about it, but turned a blind eye to it. It was in their interest that those people leave. Israel was getting ready to go to war then. An illegal Jewish army fought with the English. And Russia was interested in meddling in. Russians sent their agents there. They thought they’d have their country there, at least some influence. I went to those barracks often. There were young people there, but they didn’t have ideological consciousness. They had to be made aware of things. So I would tell them about our ideas from the scout organization. It wasn’t official. We met in small groups, quiet meetings, I talked to them, informed them how it was.

Marriage and children

From Kudowa they moved me to a hospital in Busko [Busko Zdroj – health resort, ca. 80 km north of Cracow]. In Busko, thanks to baths and treatments, I started walking without a cane. I couldn’t believe it myself. I returned to Cracow and I had no cane on me anymore. Then my acquaintance with my future wife began. I met her in the hospital. She took part in the Warsaw Uprising 36, she was from Warsaw. Her name was Stanislawa Auerbach, but in the documents her last name was Kulda. Kulda was her last name from the occupation. She had several [names], Kulda, Ostojska, various ones. Stanislawa was her real name.

She was two years younger than me. She came from Warsaw. She was the daughter of a Jewish doctor. She was born in 1924, in a particularly assimilated family. She couldn’t even speak Yiddish. She took her high school exams before the war. They wanted to send her to a diplomatic school – she was very bright – but, of course, that was out of the question since the war broke out. Right after creating the Warsaw ghetto 37 she crossed over to the Aryan side. When the Germans moved them to the ghetto, her parents moved her to their relatives. I met those people as well. They lived in Zoliborz, a Polish family of teachers. The husband, as an officer, was murdered in Katyn 38. And the wife and the son lived there in teachers’ housing. And my wife stayed there. Her family remained in the ghetto. None of them survived.

She lived in various places on the Aryan side. She worked as a help, as a nanny. She was in the AK 39. First in the Combat Association. That teacher had a three-bedroom apartment. They were poor. She rented one bedroom to some Ania. And it turned out that she belonged to the staff of the People’s Guard 40. Things were getting complicated, because Stacha [short for Stanislawa] carried messages for the AK and also cooperated with people in the AL. She wasn’t a member, but was just helping them. She hid weapons in the basement, brought them some newspapers.

In this apartment there was also Spychalski [Marian Spychalski (1906-1980), a communist activist in the Polish People’s Republic] and Celina, his assistant. And Stacha used to help them. She hid guns and passed information the AK obtained from abroad though their channels. Her code name was Slawka. She received the Cross of the Valorous from Spychalski for that period and later another Cross of the Valorous distinction for the period of the uprising [Cross of the Valorous – Polish military decoration, also given to civilians cooperating with an active army]. She took part in the uprising normally, in the AK. She was severely wounded and ended up in field hospitals. These are such stories, good for a movie, and nobody would believe it happened in real life.

She was most afraid the AK would consider her a spy. But she did it all in a good faith. After the war she got distinctions from both sides. But she was afraid to live in Warsaw. She was afraid they would accuse her. Those from the AL, when they found out she was active in the AK, were shocked. She didn’t want to risk it and didn’t want to go back to Warsaw. During the uprising she was wounded – her entire leg was shattered, gangrene started. Friends from the AK moved her to a hospital in Cracow; the Germans allowed for moving badly wounded to Cracow.

In the Cracow hospital there were several patients, Jewish soldiers. It was a very interesting group, second in command was Captain Barabasz. They were somewhat cured then. When in Israel there was the liberation war [1948] they decided to leave the hospital and go to Israel. I wanted to go with them. During that time Stacha was in the resort in Kudowa. We weren’t married then, she was just my girlfriend. I went to say goodbye to her. We went to a park in the morning. I told her that right now it would be difficult for me to leave. It was a beautiful summer day. We sat on the bench, there was nobody around. We said goodbye and I left.

When I walked a few meters away, I wanted to look at her one more time. I turned around and went back to a spot from which I could see her. Stacha was sitting and crying. It was for me… I was really touched by that. I was probably worried she might commit suicide. Alone, on crutches – she walked on crutches then. I knew she had been counting on me, hoping for a steady relationship. I looked for a bit more and went away. I didn’t go back to her. I went to Cracow and said, ‘Unfortunately I can’t go with you. Maybe some other time, but now I can’t.’ They left without me. I even know that they sent a letter to the commander: ‘We’re sorry, we fought for Poland, but now Israel needs us.’ I went back to my girlfriend. We got married, in a military marriage office, still in the hospital, but I could already walk then. We slept in a hotel that night. Friends, witnesses, hired a horse carriage for us.

Later we had to become independent. I was afraid to go back to being a civilian. I had no house. I wrote to Warsaw then, to the army commanders that I am right now a war veteran, unable to carry out active duty, I am an aviation specialist, and would like to remain in the military as a non-combat professional. It was a treat to them, because the Russians were taking their officers back then, their specialists, and there was no one to take their places. They wrote back for me to come to Warsaw. They offered me a job either at the Okecie airport or in Pruszkow in the army headquarters, but my wife was afraid of going back to Warsaw [Okecie airport – Warsaw airport; Pruszkow – a town 15 km southwest of Warsaw]. She had trauma. Trauma about those ruins, because she lost all her friends there, but also she was afraid she could get the death penalty [accusation of being a spy because she was a member of the AK and active in the People’s Guard]. So I turned both offers down.

There was one Russian major – Martynow, when he heard about my dilemma – I told him that my wife was sick and needed special conditions, calm – he told me to come to him, because there was a resort there. It turned out there was an air base near Lodz. A colony, village, Boleslawow, near Wisniowa Gora. And there were villas there, so good living conditions. So I agreed to that.

So my rehabilitation looked like this: I had to get up every day at 6am, run to the train, there was a special train for workers, then march 2 kilometers to the unit. Winter, snow. Maybe it was good, because I started believing in my strength again and became a normal person. That lasted until spring of 1947, until the referendum 3xYES 41.

They announced a state of emergency in the Polish Army. Everyone was sent to the barracks. I went to the commander then, his name was Turczko, and I said that my wife was expecting, she was sick, and we lived in a house with no sewage system and heating. I asked him to release me from the service, so that I could provide my wife conditions for existence. He refused and I deserted. Without a permit, without any agreement, I went home. And I waited. I knew they would come for me.

At least a week passed, they took me from my house with guns. I ended up in a garrison arrest on 21 Pomorska Street. I got sick there from sitting on a stone floor for several days, and I got to a hospital again. I didn’t go back to the army. I spent about a month at the hospital, my wife was in her last months of pregnancy. At night I would leave the hospital illegally, I would help her and go back at dawn. When they released me, we were homeless, without a job, my wife sick with an open wound, in her last months of pregnancy, that was my doom.

I went to the Jewish Committee, because I still hoped someone from my family had survived. They asked me what I did, and so on, and offered me a job. Near the Committee there was a cooperative bank for helping immigrants returning from Russia, from partisanship. They would get a loan with a bill of exchange guarantee. I was placed in a cell filling those bills of exchange out. But I was so weak after being in the hospital and all that, that I was simply falling asleep. I really was disabled. I was falling asleep at work. I had to go to the toilet to wash my face, so that I could see those damn bills of exchange that I was filling out. I became a burden to them. And apparently they couldn’t get rid of me differently, because they couldn’t lay me off as a disabled war veteran, or maybe they didn’t want to lay me off – they suggested I go to a university. They were just admitting to universities, to the first year to even out the level, I got a scholarship of 3000 zloty.

I didn’t believe I was suited for studies – no contact with books, nothing for years, and here there were young boys right after high-school exams, but my wife kept convincing me: ‘Listen, Sailor manages, and you wouldn’t’? Sailor was my friend from the army, we called him that because he used to serve in the navy. And yes, he was a bit dumb. So, I got convinced and took a course. I finished the introductory studies with a very good grade. I could go to university. I wanted to become a doctor most, but I realized that with my handicap I wouldn’t be able to. The Law Department in Lodz had this advantage that you didn’t need to go to classes and seminars, you only had to take exams. So I chose law, which I liked the least. But it turned out… I don’t know, maybe it was life experience, or maybe… I was very well read before the war, in any way, I passed all my exams with B’s and A’s.

While I was still a student, they announced at the department recruitment to the public prosecutor’s office. I got in. I was the favorite student of the famous professor of criminal law – Schaff. I kept on studying and I was at an applicant’s level. I was particularly good. Problems started when I refused working for the government. Because when I finished university, ministries started recruiting. They were getting their representatives ready in the ministries, to prepare graduates for them. They wanted to have new staff, not still the pre-war ones. At the last department they were looking for employees for the Ministry of Justice, courts, prosecutor’s offices and safety 42.

They called us for interviews. My turn came – they were happy, they offered me a job – I said I couldn’t do it. ‘But why – you have experience. We need people like you. You’ll have a beautiful future.’ I told them I was sick and I couldn’t even wear a belt, not to mention a gun. ‘But you won’t need to wear a belt… you’ll be a civilian.’ They made it clear that I would be getting one paycheck from them, and another from some other department. I was fighting like a lion and they kept attacking that yes, that they need people like me… and when nothing was helping one of them said – ‘I wouldn’t want to use the work obligation order [a document issued in the People’s Republic of Poland, based on which an employer had the responsibility to hire an employee for a given position, in order for the employee to be able to pay off the debt to the state taken for education] we’d rather you decided yourself.’

It was 1952 or 1953. When I heard about the obligation to work, I was stunned. I said I was a disabled war veteran and I don’t fall under work obligation orders. When he heard it he knew he couldn’t do anything to me, but I began having serious problems finding a job. The black list began following me. [Mr. Nadel suggests the safety office blocked his access to jobs, because he had refused co-operation.]

My wife worked in companies as a cashier. She was also a disabled war veteran. We had a child then already – our son was born in 1947, in May. His name is Aleksander. After my father. I kept looking for a job, collecting ads from newspapers, writing I was a war veteran and as such, according to the law, I had priority among others with the same qualifications. I would receive answers that they already hired someone, or they wouldn’t answer at all. I looked for a good few months. And only later I discovered that for all those positions you had to be accepted by the UB. And, apparently, they didn’t approve of me. I waited for a year, I had a really horrible financial situation.

Finally, thanks to the help of Dean Fortecki, I was accepted for a position, an internship as an attorney. Later they assigned me to court number 11. Nothing special, a regular court downtown. I worked there for almost three years. I was a permanent apprentice – I used to get the worst cases. They always give the worst jobs to interns: ‘Let him loose, he’ll be a good attorney.’ I had a very small salary. I stayed in there until the exam, I passed it well, and had problems finding a job again. There weren’t any private chambers then, only attorney associations and I had to wait to be assigned to an association. Probably all associations were afraid of me. Maybe they thought I’m from the safety office. Fortunately, they learned to trust me in the association I worked in. I stayed with them until 1964.

But I still had to look for another job. I needed a larger income for my family, because my earnings, as for an attorney, were small. I found a job as a legal adviser first in PSS [National Grocers’ Cooperative], then in 1959 in ORC [Installment Sales Center]. ORS gave credits for various purchases: clothing, furniture… it was very hard work. Very unpleasant conditions, because I dealt with huge loans, but it was a very good practice for me. Very difficult matters, business, recoveries.

In 1968 43 our son, Aleksander, was a tall handsome boy. They used to call him a sheriff. 1.86 meter tall, he danced beautifully, sang beautifully. He didn’t belong to the party, no. He studied at the 2nd year of medicine in Lodz at the Medical Academy. When student strikes 44 began, he was made a delegate of the Department of Medicine. Because he was so outgoing, made contacts easily. Fortunately some professors at the department were decent and one of them warned him he was going to be arrested.

Olek [short for Aleksander] had a passport, he was going to leave for the holidays. I can’t remember where to now. He got on a train and went to Copenhagen. He stayed there. We were supposed to join him, the whole family. We had been planning to go to Israel, but I was so upset about him leaving that I got a heart attack. And there was no way I could go anywhere in these conditions. Olek also wrote that was out of the question, they would upset me on the border… so I stayed here.

Aleksander had a girlfriend at the university in Poland. After two years, when Olek was already in the 5th year of Medicine in Copenhagen, she went to him, pretending that it was just on a trip, and stayed there. They got married. But she didn’t want to seek political refugee status, because she had parents in Poland and didn’t want to break contacts with the country. She was a Christian. If she had applied for refugee status, she would have had a chance to go study, receive a scholarship, and help in Denmark. But she didn’t want that, so she had nothing to live off. Olek decided to go to work, so that she could finish studying, and then he’d go back to university and finish his degree. But he never went back to his studies. She graduated. He started working as a taxi driver to earn a living. For himself and for her. And then he saved some money or took a loan, bought his own taxi and started his own transport company. He has some income.

Slawek [short for Slawomir] was born in 1954, on 22nd July, a nationalist. [Mr. Nadel nicknames his son this way sarcastically, because of the date his son was born. 22nd July – the National Holiday of Revival of Poland. It was the most important Polish holiday in the period of the People’s Republic of Poland]. He finished his studies in Lodz, in the Department of Medicine. Now he is a doctor in Lagiewniki [district in Lodz]. He works at the internal diseases ward. He was supposed to be a cardiologist, but didn’t like feudal relationship in the hospitals. He’s very well liked.

He wasn’t raised in the tradition, he doesn’t know Yiddish, but he knows who he is. He is aware he’s Jewish. Nowadays, out of curiosity, he reads some books. He’s interested in Jewish history, culture. He knows some rituals, but… I admit there’s a lot of my fault there. After the Holocaust, after so many Jews were murdered in Poland, I was afraid such periods may come back and I wanted him to be as far away from it as possible.

We got a permit to visit our son for the first time in 1973. It was a short visit. In the meantime my wife stayed in Copenhagen and I went to Israel. My son got me the visa. [During that time the diplomatic liaisons between Poland and Israel were broken. Poles could obtain visas to Israel in Israeli embassies in other countries]. In Israel I saw many friends. One of them, Icchak Rafael, was even the minister of religion. He had a PhD in Judaism. Once we used to go to the same school and belonged to the same organization, Akiba. He changed his last name, before the war his name was Icchak Werfel. We met in Tel Aviv in a super elegant hotel, where he was meeting people from the Diaspora.

He offered to find me an apartment in Jerusalem. A three-bedroom apartment, a job on the Mizrachi bank. He said, ‘I can give you that much. You know Hebrew, it’ll be easy for you. We’ll place you in an Ulpan 45 with your family, you’ll have a salary, everything. It’ll be easy for you, you know the language, it’s just a matter of learning new words, terminology.’ So, the plan was to stay and bring my family. Two or three days before leaving we went on a trip to Rishon Lezyon. It was extremely hot and I fainted. I passed out, the doctor said, ‘You must not live in Israel.’ I had to go back. That’s how my adventure ended, unfortunately. Or fortunately.

Recent years

I have three grandchildren. One from Slawek and two from Olek. Maciek, Slawek’s son, is 14 right now and attends high-school in Lodz. Kuba comes from Copenhagen, but studies in Warsaw. He is finishing medicine. And there’s also Misiek. He’s also from Copenhagen. He is, I think, on the 1st or 2nd year of Computer Science.

My sons weren’t raised in the Jewish tradition, but they were interested, and still are interested in Jewish history. I know and I noticed that they know the history really well. It’s a different matter with the grandchildren. The older son, when he settled in Copenhagen, influenced by friends, got closer to the Jewish tradition. He doesn’t know Jewish or Hebrew, but had a bar mitzvah and circumcisions for his sons. So Kuba and Misiek are circumcised, but at the moment everything is foreign to them anyway. But formally they are Jewish. We have a very good contact with each other.

I was professionally active until 1993. From the moment I started getting the pension, I still worked half time, and I was slowly closing the other jobs, first in Technical Gases in 1983. In PKO and PSS I remained until 1993. I would have continued working, but I had to be at home more because of my wife’s illness.

My wife died on 18th April 2002. She had surgery. That leg, all the time. Wounds kept opening… Then she was sick, we don’t really know with what, she probably had a stomach tumor. She was suffering for two years. She’s buried at the Jewish cemetery. I suspected there would be no life for me. 56 or 57 years we were together, married. I can’t find myself until this day. I was sick, I went to hospital twice, but the younger son visits me, and so it slowly goes… I also started going to the community, I’m socially active. Once I was active on the board for disabled war veterans, but now I can’t due to my health. And I started going out on Saturdays, Fridays. So that I am among people, make contacts. For many years I was the president of the community, now I am vice-president. I resigned, I didn’t feel strong enough to keep doing it.

I’m not sure why I agreed to give you this interview. I agreed reluctantly, I have to admit. The only thing that convinced me was that it’s for the future generations. And maybe I’m counting that if I get a copy, my children will finally have a keepsake. They know very little about me. I remember many things, but I never sat down to segregate, write down what’s important and what isn’t. There’s so much of it it’s difficult to sort out? Besides, I can’t express myself at all. Just here, for the first time…

Glossary:

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 Poland’s independence, 1918

In 1918 Poland regained its independence after over 100 years under the partitions, when it was divided up between Russia, Austria and Prussia. World War I ended with the defeat of all three partitioning powers, which made the liberation of Poland possible. On 8 January 1918 the president of the USA, Woodrow Wilson, declaimed his 14 points, the 13th of which dealt with Poland's independence. In the spring of the same year, the Triple Entente was in secret negotiations with Austria-Hungary, offering them integrity and some of Poland in exchange for parting company with their German ally, but the talks were a fiasco and in June the Entente reverted to its original demands of full independence for Poland. In the face of the defeat of the Central Powers, on 7 October 1918 the Regency Council issued a statement to the Polish nation proclaiming its independence and the reunion of Poland. Institutions representing the Polish nation on the international arena began to spring up, as did units disarming the partitioning powers' armed forces and others organizing a system of authority for the needs of the future state. In the night of 6-7 November 1918, in Lublin, a Provisional Government of the Republic of Poland was formed under Ignacy Daszynski. Its core comprised supporters of Pilsudski. On 11 November 1918 the armistice was signed on the western front, and the Regency Council entrusted Pilsudski with the supreme command of the nascent army. On 14 November the Regency Council dissolved, handing all civilian power to Pilsudski; the Lublin government also submitted to his rule. On 17 November Pilsudski appointed a government, which on 21 November issued a manifesto promising agricultural reforms and the nationalization of certain branches of industry. It also introduced labor legislation that strongly favored the workers, and announced parliamentary elections. On 22 November Pilsudski announced himself Head of State and signed a decree on the provisional authorities in the Republic of Poland. The revolutionary left, from December 1918 united in the Communist Workers' Party of Poland, came out against the government and independence, but the program of Pilsudski's government satisfied the expectations of the majority of society and emboldened it to fight for its goals within the parliamentary democracy of the independent Polish state. In January and June 1919 the first elections to the Legislative Sejm were held. On 20 February 1919 the Legislative Sejm passed the 'small constitution'; Pilsudski remained Head of State. The first stage of establishing statehood was completed, despite the fact that the issue of Poland's borders had not yet been resolved.

3 Battle for Lwow, 1918

On the night of 31st October 1918 a Ukrainian unit (until that time functioning as a part of the Austro-Hungarian Army) under the command of Dmitr Vitovskyj intercepted all main buildings in Lwow, seizing control over the city. In the morning of 1st November fights with Poles began. After several days of fierce battles in which civilians, among them students and Polish scouts, participated, the line of the front was formed: the western part of the city was in Polish hands, the eastern in Ukrainian. On 20th November a unit of the Polish Army under the command of Colonel Michal Karaszewicz-Tokarzewski came to the rescue from Cracow to Lwow, and after a day of fighting the Ukrainians were forced to leave the city. The Lwow defense, and especially its young participants, called ‘Lwow Eagles,’ were worshiped in interwar Poland.

4 KuK (Kaiserlich und Königlich) army

The name 'Imperial and Royal' was used for the army of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, as well as for other state institutions of the Monarchy originated from the dual political system. Following the Compromise of 1867, which established the Dual Monarchy, Austrian emperor and Hungarian King Franz Joseph was the head of the state and also commander-in-chief of the army. Hence the name 'Imperial and Royal'.

5 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.

6 Mizrachi (full name

The 'Mizrachi' Zionist-Orthodox Organization): A political party of religious Zionists, which was created in order to build a Jewish nation in Palestine, based on the rules of the Torah. The name comes from the words 'Ha-merkaz ha-ruchani', that is 'spiritual center.' It was created in Vilnius in 1902 as a branch of the World Zionist Organization. In 1917 Mizrach broke off from the Organization as a separate party. Headed by Joszua Heszel Farbstein, other activists included Izaak Nissenbaum and Icchak Rubinstein. The Mizrachi party cooperated with the Zionist Organization in Poland, supported the program of national-cultural autonomy, took part in parliamentary and local self-government elections. Mizrachi also created its own school organization Jawne and youth organization Ceirej Mizrachi (Mizrachi Youth) and He-Chaluc ha-Mizrachi (Mizrachi Pioneers), later Ha-Poel ha-Mizrachi (Mizrachi Worker). Mizrachi's influence was strongest in southwestern Poland. After WWII it was the only religious party which was allowed to operate. Dissolved in 1949.

7 Akiba - Hanoar Haivri

Zionist youth scouting organization founded in Cracow in the early 1920s, subordinate to the Zionist Organization. Its program was moderately right-wing; it advocated the dissemination of the Hebrew language and Jewish religious tradition, which it considered a key element of the national identity. The first Akiba groups left for Palestine in 1930. In 1939 the organization numbered 30,000 adherents in Europe and Palestine. During WWII it was active in the resistance movement. Armed Akiba units took part in campaigns in Cracow (1942) and in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising (1943). After the war it did not resume its activities in Poland, but continued to operate in Palestine until the foundation of the State of Israel (1948).

8 The Kingdom of Poland

(Other names: the Congress Kingdom, Congress Kingdom of Poland): founded in 1815 by a decision of the Congress of Vienna. It extended throughout the lands of the Kingdom of Warsaw with the exception of the Poznan and Bydgoszcz provinces and the city of Cracow. It had an area (until 1912) of 128,500 km2 and a population of 3.3m in 1816 and 10m in 1910. The Kingdom of Poland was a monarchy linked by a personal union with Russia, with the tsar as king. It had a Polish Sejm (diet), government and army, but was not permitted to conduct its own foreign policy. The constitution, though formally liberal, was systematically violated. The Kingdom of Poland was a center of the Polish liberation movement. In 1830 the November Uprising broke out; following its failure the Kingdom of Poland ceased to be a separate state and was henceforth to be an integral part of the Russian Empire. After the January Uprising in 1863 the Kingdom was stripped of its separate identity altogether. In official documents the name 'the Kingdom of Poland' was replaced with the expression 'the Country along the Vistula.' In the second half of the 19th century the country was subjected to intensive Russification. In 1915 it was occupied by German and Austrian forces; the occupation lasted until November 1918. After 1918 the lands of the Kingdom of Poland became part of the independent Poland.

9 Hasmonea Lwow

Jewish sports club founded in 1908 by Adolf Kohn. One of four Lwow league clubs in the interwar period. For two seasons its soccer section played in the league, coming 11th in 1927 and 13th in 1928. The club also boasted a strong boxing section (H. Grosz and F. Strauss were vice-champions) and table tennis section (A. Erlich). The athlete Irena Bella Hornstein of Hasmonea competed for Poland in 1937-1939.

10 Keren Kayemet Leisrael (K

K.L.): Jewish National Fund (JNF) founded in 1901 at the Fifth Zionist Congress in Basel. From its inception, the JNF was charged with the task of fundraising in Jewish communities for the purpose of purchasing land in the Land of Israel to create a homeland for the Jewish people. After 1948 the fund was used to improve and afforest the territories gained. Every Jewish family that wished to help the cause had a JNF money box, called the 'blue box.' Now these boxes are known worldwide as a symbol of Zionism. In Poland the JNF was active in two periods, 1919-1939 and 1945-1950. In preparing its colonization campaign, Keren Kayemet Leisrael collaborated with the Jewish Agency and Keren Hayesod.

11 Keren Hayesod

A Jewish financial fund (Palestinian Construction Fund) set up in London in 1920 by the World Zionist Organization to collect financial aid for the emigration of Jews to Palestine. The money came from contributions by Jewish communities from all over the world. The funds collected were transferred to support immigrants and the Jewish colonization of Palestine. It contributed towards establishing big national companies: EL-AL airlines, ZIM shipping line and Bank Leumi.

12 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.

13 Betar

Brith Trumpledor (Hebrew) meaning Trumpledor Society; right-wing Revisionist Jewish youth movement. It was founded in 1923 in Riga by Vladimir Jabotinsky, in memory of J. Trumpledor, one of the first fighters to be killed in Palestine, and the fortress Betar, which was heroically defended for many months during the Bar Kohba uprising. Its aim was to propagate the program of the revisionists and prepare young people to fight and live in Palestine. It organized emigration through both legal and illegal channels. It was a paramilitary organization; its members wore uniforms. They supported the idea to create a Jewish legion in order to liberate Palestine. From 1936-39 the popularity of Betar diminished. During WWII many of its members formed guerrilla groups.
14 HIAS (Hebrew Immigration Aid Society): Founded in New York City by a group of Jewish immigrants in 1881, HIAS has offered food, shelter and other aid to emigrants. HIAS has assisted more than 4.5 million people in their quest for freedom. This includes the million Jewish refugees it helped to immigrate to Israel (in cooperation with the Jewish Agency for Israel), and the thousands it helped resettle in Canada, Latin America, Australia, New Zealand and elsewhere. As the oldest international migration and refugee resettlement agency in the US, HIAS also played a major role in the rescue and relocation of Jewish survivors of the Holocaust and of Jews from Morocco, Ethiopia, Egypt and the communist countries of Eastern Europe. More recently, since the mid-1970s, HIAS has helped Jewish refugees from the former Soviet Union. In Poland the society has been active since before 1939. After the war HIAS received permission to recommence its activities in March 1946, and opened offices in Warsaw, Bialystok, Katowice, Cracow, Lublin and Lodz. It provided information on emigration procedures and the policies of foreign countries regarding émigrés, helped deal with formalities involved in emigration, and provided material assistance and care for émigrés.
15 Hakhsharah: Training camps organized by the Zionists, in which Jewish youth in the Diaspora received intellectual and physical training, especially in agricultural work, in preparation for settling in Palestine.
16 Hora: The best-known folk dance of pioneers in Eretz Israel. The dance is chiefly derived from the Romanian hora. Hora is a closed circle dance. Israeli dance is an amalgam of the many cultures and peoples which settled in Palestine, and then Israel. The original sources were Eastern European styles, Arabic and Yemenite.

17 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.
18 Soviet capture of Lwow: From 12th September 1939, Lwow was surrounded by the German army. General Wladyslaw Langner was in command of the defense. On 19th September the Soviet troops attacked from the east. The Germans began evacuation, as in line with the Ribbentrop-Molotov pact Lwow was to belong to the Soviet occupational zone. The representatives of the Red Army began talks with the city authorities. On 21st September a tentative capitulation agreement was reached. On 22nd September around 1pm the Soviet army entered Lwow. The taking of the city was relatively nonviolent. Polish soldiers lay down their arms. Several lynches happened, the victims were particularly Polish policemen. In the poverty-stricken districts and among the Jews and Ukrainians demonstrations were organized in support of the new authorities.
19 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.

20 Assimilators in Poland

supporters of assimilation, among Jews – a movement for adopting the Polish culture. They rejected Zionism and Yiddish culture, they treated religion as the basis for their Jewish identity: they considered themselves to be ‘Polish of the Moses religion.’ Activists of the assimilation movement concentrated around newspapers, created organizations, and in the end political parties. The movement was especially strong in the 2nd half of the XIX century. The first organization of the supporters of assimilation of Polish culture in Galicia (Agudas Achim) was founded in 1882. In Warsaw the assimilation followers were centered around the magazine Izraelita published in 1866-1912. For a very long time, since 1871 until 1926, assimilators dominated in the Warsaw Jewish religious commune. Their head representative was Ludwik Natanson. It was similar in the Cracow commune, where the president was Szymon Samelsohn. In Galicia, academic and youth assimilators’ organizations were being created starting in 1907. In 1919 assimilators’ organizations from Warsaw, Lwow and Cracow were combined to form a Union of Jewish Poles from All the Polish Lands. Their work, however, didn’t have a significant influence on the development of the Jewish national movement and was a subject of severe criticism. In the period between the wars traditions of the assimilators’ movement were maintained mainly by youth organizations: the ‘Zjednoczenie’ [Union] Academic Society, Association of Polish Youth of Jewish Origin ‘Zagiew,’ Berek Joselewicz scout units. Assimilators were present in community authorities in only a few cities, for example in Lwow.

21 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.

22 Deportations of Poles from the Eastern Territories during WWII

From the beginning of Soviet occupation of eastern Poland on 17th September 1939, until the Soviet-German war, which broke out on 21st June 1941, the Soviet authorities were deporting people associated with the former Polish authorities, culture, church and army. Around 400,000 people were exiled from the Lwow, Tarnopol and Stanislawow districts, mostly to northern Russia, Siberia and Kazakhstan. Between 12th and 15th April as many as 25,000 were deported from Lwow only.

23 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.

24 NKVD

(Russ.: Narodnyi Komissariat Vnutrennikh Del), People's Committee of Internal Affairs, the supreme security authority in the USSR - the secret police. Founded by Lenin in 1917, it nevertheless played an insignificant role until 1934, when it took over the GPU (the State Political Administration), the political police. The NKVD had its own police and military formations, and also possessed the powers to pass sentence on political matters, and as such in practice had total control over society. Under Stalin's rule the NKVD was the key instrument used to terrorize the civilian population. The NKVD ran a network of labor camps for millions of prisoners, the Gulag. The heads of the NKVD were as follows: Genrikh Yagoda (to 1936), Nikolai Yezhov (to 1938) and Lavrenti Beria. During the war against Germany the political police, the KGB, was spun off from the NKVD. After the war it also operated on USSR-occupied territories, including in Poland, where it assisted the nascent communist authorities in suppressing opposition. In 1946 the NKVD was renamed the Ministry of the Interior.

25 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.

26 Wasilewska, Wanda (1905-64)

From 1934-37 she was a member of the Supreme Council of the Polish Socialist Party (PPS). In 1940 she became a deputy to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR. From 1941-43 she was a political commissary in the Red Army and editor of 'Nowe Widnokregi.' In 1943 she helped to organize the Union of Polish Patriots and the Polish armed forces in the USSR. In 1944 she became a member of the Central Bureau of Polish Communists in the USSR and vice-chairperson of the Polish Committee for National Liberation. After the war she remained in the USSR. Author of the social propaganda novels 'Oblicze Dnia' (The Face of the Day, 1934), 'Ojczyzna' (Fatherland, 1935) and 'Ziemia w Jarzmie' (Earth under the Yoke, 1938), and the war novel 'Tecza' (Rainbow, 1944).

27 Anders’ Army

The Polish Armed Forces in the USSR, subsequently the Polish Army in the East, known as Anders' Army: an operations unit of the Polish Armed Forces formed pursuant to the Polish-Soviet Pact of 30th July 1941 and the military agreement of 14th July 1941. It comprised Polish citizens who had been deported into the heart of the USSR: soldiers imprisoned in 1939-41 and civilians amnestied in 1941 (some 1.25-1.6m people, including a recruitment base of 100,000-150,000). The commander-in-chief of the Polish Armed Forces in the USSR was General Wladyslaw Anders. The army never reached its full quota (in February 1942 it numbered 48,000, and in March 1942 around 66,000). In terms of operations it was answerable to the Supreme Command of the Red Army, and in terms of organization and personnel to the Supreme Commander, General Wladyslaw Sikorski and the Polish government in exile. In March-April 1942 part of the Army (with Stalin's consent) was sent to Iran (33,000 soldiers and approx. 10,000 civilians). The final evacuation took place in August-September 1942 pursuant to Soviet-British agreements concluded in July 1942 (it was the aim of General Anders and the British powers to withdraw Polish forces from the USSR); some 114,000 people, including 25,000 civilians (over 13,000 children) left the Soviet Union. The units that had been evacuated were merged with the Polish Army in the Middle East to form the Polish Army in the East, commanded by Anders.

28 Lwow Ghetto

Created following an order of the German administrative authorities issued on 8th November 1941. All Jews living in Lwow, that is approx. 120,000 people, were resettled to the ghetto. During a selection which was conducted by the German authorities most elderly and sick persons were shot to death before the ghetto was formally created. Many Jews were employed in workshops producing equipment for the Wehrmacht or the Luftwaffe. Some of them were also employed in the German administration outside of the ghetto. Since March 1941 the Germans imprisoned Jews in the Janowska forced labor camp and also deported them to the extermination camp in Belzec. Some residents died during mass street executions in the area of the ghetto called Piaski. The Great Liquidation Action in the Lwow ghetto lasted from 10th to 23rd August 1942. It is estimated that some 40,000 Jews were deported to the Belzec extermination camp. Some young men were sent to the Janowska forced labor camp. Approx. 800 people were taken to the Auschwitz extermination camp.

29 Janowska Road Camp

It was set up in Lwow in October 1941. One part was the SS accommodation and the prisoners' barracks (people later sent to the extermination camp in Belzec were held here), and the other part housed production workshops. Created as a labor camp for Lwow Jews, it became an extermination camp. Jews from Eastern Galicia were brought here. Owing to a real threat of an armed uprising, the Germans liquidated the camp in a lightning campaign on 20th November 1943. Only a few people managed to escape.

30 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.

31 Central Committee of Polish Jews

Founded in 1944, with the aim of representing Jews in dealings with the state authorities and organizing and co-coordinating aid and community care for Holocaust survivors. Initially it operated from Lublin as part of the Polish Committee of National Liberation. The CCPJ's activities were subsidized by the Joint, and in time began to cover all areas of the reviving Jewish life. In 1950 the CCPJ merged with the Jewish Cultural Society to form the Social and Cultural Society of Polish Jews.

32 Polish authorities in Lublin in 1944

On 22nd July 1944, in Lublin Chelm the Polish Committee for National Liberation (PKWN) announced the assuming of power in Poland. The Committee was founded two days earlier in Moscow, was an organ completely dependent on Stalin and dominated by communists. A manifest published by PKWN described a temporary system of power in Poland. The function of a Parliament was assumed by the National Council - also dominated by the communists' joint representation of left-wing organizations. PKWN was the only executive authority and could issue decrees with a power of laws. It began creating local administration, at first in the form of national councils, later bringing back the institutions of voivodes and prefects. PKWN also began organizing Milicja and local Offices of Public Safety (political police). It also commanded the People's Army, created by combining the Polish division of the Red Army and the underground army (communist People's Army and Polish units of Soviet partisanship). On 31st December 1944, the PKWN was converted into the Temporal Government and considered by the Soviet Union to be the only authority in Poland.

33 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.

34 Majdanek concentration camp

Situated five kilometers from the city center of Lublin, Poland, originally established as a labor camp in October 1941. It was officially called Prisoner of War Camp of the Waffen-SS Lublin until 16th February 1943, when the name was changed to Concentration Camp of the Waffen-SS Lublin. Unlike most other Nazi death camps, Majdanek, located in a completely open field, was not hidden from view. About 130,000 Jews were deported there during 1942-43 as part of the 'Final Solution.'. Initially there were two gas chambers housed in a wooden building, which were later replaced by gas chambers in a brick building. The estimated number of deaths is 360,000, including Jews, Soviets POWs and Poles. The camp was liquidated in July 1944, but by the time the Red Army arrived the camp was only partially destroyed. Although approximately 1,000 inmates were executed on a death march, the Red Army found thousand of prisoners still in the camp, an evidence of the mass murder that had occurred in Majdanek.

35 Bricha (Hebrew

escape): Used to define illegal emigration of Jews from European countries to Palestine after WWII and organizational structures which made it possible. In Poland Bricha had its beginnings within Zionist organizations, in two cities independently: in Rowne (led by Eliezer Lidowski) and in Vilnius (Aba Kowner). Toward the end of 1944, both organizations moved to Lublin and merged into one coordination. In October 1945, Isser Ben Cwi came to Poland; he was an emissary from Palestine, representative of the institution dealing with illegal immigration, Mosad le-Alija Bet, with the help of which vast numbers of volunteers were transported to Palestine. Emigration reached its apogee after the Kielce pogrom in July 1946. That was possible due to the cooperation of Bricha with Polish authorities who opened Polish borders to Jewish émigrés. It is estimated that in the years 1945-1947, 150 thousand Jews illegally left Poland.

36 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.

37 Warsaw Ghetto

separate residential district for Jews in Warsaw created over several months in 1940. On 16th November 1940 138,000 people were enclosed behind its walls. Over the following months the population of the ghetto increased as more people were relocated from the small towns surrounding the city. By March 1941 445,000 people were living in the ghetto. Subsequently, the number of the ghetto's inhabitants began to fall sharply as a result of disease, hunger, deportation, persecution and liquidation. The ghetto was also systematically reduced in size. The internal administrative body was the Jewish Council (Judenrat). The Warsaw ghetto ceased to exist on 15th May 1943, when the Germans pronounced the failure of the uprising, staged by the Jewish soldiers, and razed the area to the ground.

38 Katyn

Site in Western Russia where in April and May 1940, on the orders of Stalin and the Politburo the NKVD murdered some 4,400 Polish officers, prisoners of war from the camps in nearby Kozielsk. Similar crimes were committed in the neighboring Starobielsk and Ostashkovo. In all, the Russians murdered well over 10,000 officers of the Polish Army and the Polish State Police, and civil servants. When in 1943 the German army discovered the mass graves, they released news of them to public opinion. The Soviet propaganda machine, however, continued to claim for almost the next 60 years, that the murders had been committed by the Nazis, not by Russians. The Katyn crimes came to represent the falsity in Polish-USSR relations, and the word 'Katyn' was censored until 1989.

39 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. 

40 People's Army (Armia Ludowa, AL)

Polish military organization with a left-wing political bent, founded on 1st January 1944 by renaming the People's Guard (set up in 1942). It was the armed wing of the PPR (Polish Workers' Party), and acted against the German forces and was pro-Soviet. At the beginning of 1944 it numbered 6,000-8,000 people and by July 1944 some 30,000. By comparison the partisan forces numbered 6,000 in July 1944. The People's Army directed the brunt of its efforts towards destroying German lines of communication, in particular behind the German-Soviet front. Divisions of the People's Army also participated in the Warsaw Uprising. In July 1944 the Polish Armed Forces (WP, Wojsko Polskie) were created from the People's Army and the Polish Army in the USSR.

41 Referendum in 1946

A referendum conducted in Poland on 30th June 1946. Voters had to answer three questions: whether they wanted to abolish the Senate (higher Parliament chamber), whether they wanted an agricultural reform and nationalizing of industry, as well as whether the western Poland border should be on the Odra and Nysa Luzycka Rivers. Conducting the referendum was a proposal of the communist party. Its purpose was to test social moods, but mainly to postpone the Parliament elections and test methods of results' falsification. The communist authorities conducted huge propaganda calling to vote 3 times 'yes.' The legal anti-communist opposition, the Polish Peasants' Party (PSL) called to vote 'no' to the first question. The referendum results were falsified. Officially 68% answered 'yes' to the first question, 77% to the second, 91% to the third. According to the later diagnosis of historians the published results were at least twice as high as the actual ones.

42 Office for Public Security, UBP

Popularly known as the UB, officially established to protect the interests of national security, but in fact served as a body whose function was to stamp out all forms of resistance during the establishment and entrenchment of communist power in Poland. The UB was founded in 1944. Branches of the UBP were set up immediately after the occupation by the Red Army of the Polish lands west of the Bug. The first UBP functionaries were communist activists trained by the NKVD, and former soldiers of the People's Army and members of the Polish Workers' Party (PPR). In many cases they were also collaborationists from the period of German occupation and criminals. The senior officials were NKVD officers. The primary tasks of the UBP were to crush all underground organizations with a western orientation. In 1956 the Security Service was formed and many former officers of the UBP were transferred.

43 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.

44 Students’ protest in March 1968

on 4th March 1968 the Minister of Education decided to expel from Warsaw University two students: Adam Michnik and Henryk Szlajfer. A few weeks earlier these students gave a French press correspondent an account of the militia breaking up a demonstration on 1st February. The demonstrators were youth protesting against a ban of the staging of the play Dziady (a strongly anti-Russian drama from the 19th century) in Teatr Narodowy (National Theater). On 8th March 1968 students organized a rally in the courtyard of Warsaw University. They passed a resolution demanding restoration of student rights to Michnik and Szlajfer, as well as annulling legal action against the arrested demonstrators from 1st February. During the rally units of militia and so-called workmen activists came into the courtyard and started beating the students with truncheons, breaking up the rally. The next day a demonstrating solidarity rally was conducted at the Warsaw University of Technology, and was also attacked by the militia. In the following days such rallies were organized in several large academic centers. About 1600 among the detained students were expelled from the universities, 350 arrested, many young men drafted into the army. Those professors from Warsaw University and other higher education facilities in Poland, who showed solidarity towards the students, were laid off work.

45 Ulpan

Word in Hebrew that designates teaching, instruction and studio. It is a Hebrew-language course compulsory in Israel for newcomers, which rapidly teaches adults basic Hebrew skills, including speaking, reading, writing and comprehension, along with the fundamentals of Israeli culture, history, geography, and civics. In addition to teaching Hebrew, the ulpan aims to help newcomers integrate as easily as possible into Israel's social, cultural and economic life.

Szegő Andorné

Életrajz 

A szellemileg friss, hatvanévesnek kinéző, nyolcvanéves özvegy Szegő Andorné szép, rendezett lakásban él. A mai napig felfoghatatlan számára, hogyan lehetett elpusztítani 600 000 magyar zsidót, és emlékeiben ma is elevenen él annak a több száznak a története, akit személyesen is ismert.

Anyai dédszüleim, Fried Sámuel [1859–1944] és felesége [1864–1924] Tiszaszederkényben éltek [Kisközség volt Borsod vm.-ben, 1891-ben és 1910-ben 1600, 1920-ban 1400 lakossal. – A szerk.]. Ott születtek a gyerekeik: Sándor, József, Vilmos, Vilma, Berta és nagyanyám, Fried Gizella. A dédszüleimnek földje volt, és gazdálkodtak. Nem tudom, mekkora föld volt, de ellátta őket. Ezenkívül volt egy szatócsboltjuk, ahol mindent lehetett kapni, de az már életük későbbi szakaszában. Minden évben elmentünk hozzájuk egy napra, mert meglátogattuk a nagyanyám sírját, aki 1915-ben, harminchárom éves korában halt meg. Ezek a látogatások három-négy éves koromtól az utolsó, Auschwitz előtti évig zajlottak. A dédszüleim háza hagyományos parasztház volt, tornáccal, onnan nyílt a konyha, és a konyhából kétoldalt két szoba. Földes padló volt. A bolt a ház elején volt, hozzáépítették. Nagy udvar volt, az udvaron szénaboglya, volt kocsiszín, istálló, rengeteg állat. Volt kocsijuk, és voltak lovak, volt egy tehén, és csirkék, libák szaladgáltak az udvaron.

Dédanyám korábban meghalt, és dédapám Berta nevű lányával élt együtt. Berta férje, akit Beris bácsinak hívtak, az 1930-as években kiment Amerikába. Borzasztó szegénység volt akkor ott egész Szabolcs megyében, és Beris bácsi úgy határozott, hogy kimegy Amerikába, összeszed egy házravalót, és akkor külön tudnak költözni a szülőktől. Négy évig volt kint Amerikában, nyelv nélkül, szakma nélkül. Bekerült egy ruhatisztító műhelybe, és egy pincében vasalt reggeltől estig. Megvakult ebben a szörnyű munkában, úgyhogy vakon jött haza, szinte pénz nélkül. És amíg kint volt, addig sem küldött haza pénzt. Házat nem tudtak venni. Berta néni élete végéig dühös volt rá, hogy ilyen marhaságot csinált, hogy otthagyta őt két gyerekkel. Aztán őt is elvitték Auschwitzba, mert addig még élt. A fiuk, Adus (Adolf) munkaszolgálatos lett, senki nem tudja, hol pusztult el. Volt még egy lányuk is, Ilonka, ő pedig a kisgyerekeivel került Auschwitzba. Így pusztult el az egész család, így múlt el Tiszaszederkény. Szegény Zajdi, így nevezték dédapámat, életében nem mozdult ki [Tisza]Szederkényből, neki ott rengeteg dolga volt. Volt egy morotva, oda kiment, megfogta az aznapi halat, akkor az is megvolt, szóval Tiszaszederkény volt a világ legjobb helye. Amikor megkezdődött a deportálás, egyszerűen nem akarta elhinni, hogy vele ez megtörténhet, hogy össze kell szedni a batyuját, és el kell mennie. Mondta a lányának: „Berta, mondtam már neked, hogy adjál száz pengőt a bírónak, hogy hagyjon békén. Nem megyek ki a házamból.” És ezt ismételte szegény eszelősen, hogy száz pengőt kell adni a bírónak.

Pedig jó viszonyban éltek a szomszédokkal. Amikor a Bábi [dédmama] temetése volt, az egész falu kijött. Az asszonyok fekete ruhában énekelték a zsoltárokat. Az egész falu gyászolta. Akkor még így együtt élt a falu. Az egyik adta ezt, a másik adta azt, segítettek egymásnak aratáskor, szóval teljes jogú polgárok voltak, nem volt semmi olyan, hogy ők zsidók vagy nem zsidók. A szomszédok ápolták Bábi sírját, csak szépet és jót mondhatunk róluk. Péntek este becsukódott az ajtó, mert akkor gyertyát gyújtottak [lásd: gyertyagyújtás], és a szombat csak az övéké volt, az a falutól el volt zárva.

Gyerekeik a környező falvakban éltek, és hazajártak. Fried Vilmos Miskolcon élt, ott volt halkereskedő. Fried Sándor Szakáldon élt, gazdálkodott, szőlője volt [Szakáld – kisközség volt Borsod vm.-ben, 1910-ben és 1920-ban nem egészen 500 főnyi lakossal. – A szerk.]. Fried József Mezőcsáton élt, de Nemesbikken bérelt földet, és azon gazdálkodott [Mezőcsát – járásszékhely nagyközség volt Borsod (1920 után: Borsod, Gömör és Kishont) vm.-ben, 1891-ben 5200, 1910-ben 5500, 1920-ban 5800 lakossal (járási szolgabírói hivatal, járásbíróság); Nemesbikk – kisközség volt Borsod (1920 után: Borsod, Gömör és Kishont) vm.-ben, 1891-ben 100, 1910-ben és 1920-ban 1100 lakossal. – A szerk.]. Vilma Örkényben élt, azt hiszem, szatócsboltjuk volt [Örkény – nagyközség volt Pest-Pilis-Solt-Kiskun vm.-ben, 1891-ben 2200, 1910-ben 4700, 1920-ban 5600 lakossal. – A szerk.]. Fried Endre Tiszapalkonyán élt [Tiszapalkonya – kisközség volt Borsod vm.-ben, 1891-ben 1600, 1910-ben 1700, 1920-ban 1600 lakossal. – A szerk.], szatócsboltja volt, ahol a petróleumtól kezdve a dianás kakasig mindent lehetett kapni. Mindenki Auschwitzban végezte.

Egyetlen család menekült meg, Fried Sándorék. Szerén néni volt a felesége. Volt két lányuk, Ilonka és Gizi és egy fiuk, Pisti. Ilonka hozzáment Taub Dumihoz, aki fogtechnikus volt. Taub nagy cionista volt, ő volt a Mizrachi vezetője Miskolcon. Miskolc nagy cionista város volt, három cionista egyesület is volt. Taub nagyon agilis volt, nem csak a szája járt, tett is. Szlovákiából, Kassáról és környékéről akkoriban rengetegen szöktek át, és mindenkinél megvolt Taub címe. Aki megérkezett, az először náluk állt meg. Akiket elkaptak, és fogva tartottak, azoknak Taubék minden nap vittek ebédet, intézték a papírokat. Ennek révén ők sokkal jobban értesültek voltak, mint az átlagos zsidók. Nem egy álomvilágban éltek, hogy a magyar zsidókkal ilyesmi nem fordulhat elő. Akik náluk megfordultak, elmesélték, hogy mi történt velük, és hogy ez vár rátok, ne várjátok a sült galambot, tegyetek érte, hogy életben maradjatok. Ez motiválta az én Ilonka unokatestvéremet is, és ennek köszönhetik, hogy életben maradt a család.

Amikor Ilonka férjét behívták munkaszolgálatra, Ilonka állapotos volt a gyerekkel, ezért a szüleihez költözött Szakáldra. Ilonka nagyon szép fekete asszony volt. A németek bevonulása körüli időkben, amikor a fia három éves volt, vagy még annyi se, szőkére festette a haját, és Miskolcon keresztény papírokat szerzett. A keresztény papírokkal fölment Pestre, a fiát Szakáldon hagyta. Kivett egy albérleti szobát egy katonatiszt családjánál mint erdélyi menekült. Szereztek neki munkát egy varrodában. Szerzett keresztény papírokat a testvérének, Gizinek is. Közben Fried Sándort munkaszolgálatra vitték, Szerén néni és Ilona kisfia Szakáldon maradt. Innen vitték őket Mezőcsátra, a gettóba. Az idő szaladt, már Gizi is Pesten dolgozott keresztény papírokkal, és még mindig nem tudták, hogy a gyerekkel mi lesz. Azon már nem is gondolkodtak, hogy mi lesz a szüleikkel. Egy nap hírt kaptak Mezőcsátról, hogy rövidesen viszik el a zsidókat a gettóból. Ilonka a varrodában olyan kapcsolatba került egy kolléganőjével, hogy el mert mondani neki mindent. Megkérte, hogy menjen le [Mező]Csátra a hasonló korú gyerekének a papírjaival, és hozza el az ő kisfiát. Az asszony vállalta. Leutazott [Mező]Csátra, bement a gettóba, és kihozta a kisgyereket. Szerén néni maradt. Sokáig kellett várni az állomáson a vonatra, és hogy, hogy nem, a gyerek visszaszökött ettől az asszonytól a gettóba. Az asszony újra bement a gettóba, megtalálta a nagymamát és a gyereket. Mondta a nagymamának, hogy ki kell kísérnie őket, mert másképp nem tudja a gyereket elvinni. Szerén néni felvette a fekete berlinerkendőjét, és semmi változtatás nem kellett, ő ilyen volt, egy öreg parasztasszony. Sikerült nekik kijönni a gettóból. Úgy látszik, Mezőcsáton még nem őrizték olyan komolyan. Bejött a vonat, és a gyerek nem engedte el Szerén néni kezét, így ő is felszállt a vonatra. A Keletiben volt az igazoltatás, csak ez volt a rémség. Szerén nénihez a fekete berlinerkendőjében hozzá se szóltak. A nőt és a gyereket igazoltatták, a papírok rendben voltak. Így menekült meg ez a család. A katonatiszt családjánál laktak, aki el hitte, hogy ők erdélyi menekültek. Szerén néni nem is nézett ki zsidónak, olyan volt, mint egy szakáldi parasztasszony. Csak a gyereknek kellett tudni egy dolgot, hogy nem szabad pisilnie soha mások előtt, és egy nevet kellett megtanulnia. És ez az okos kisgyerek végig fantasztikusan jól csinálta, nem történt semmi baj, és megélték Pesten a felszabadulást. Sándor bácsi is visszajött, és visszajött Pisti is. Egyedül Ilonka férje, Taub nem jött vissza.

A háború után Ilonka az első gyerekalijával kiküldte a fiát. Egyedül egy ötéves gyereket, vagy még annyi sem volt. Aztán alijázott Gizi. Ilonka még várta vissza Taubot. Aztán megjött az utolsó hír, hogy hol lőtték agyon. De még mielőtt folytatom Ilonka sorsát, el kell mesélnem valamit. Az egyik Kassa melletti faluból menekült fú, Zalmi, szintén megkapta Taubék címét, de Miskolcon élt a nagybátyja is. Zalmi egy szót sem tudott magyarul. Németül tudott és szlovákul. Amikor átjött, először a nagybátyjához ment a kis motyójával. A nagybácsi mondta, hogy nem maradhat ott éjszakára, mert őt figyelik, és ő ezt nem reszkírozza meg. Késő este volt, a várost nem ismerte, magyarul nem tudott, nem mert elindulni. Bebújt a kutya óljába, és ott aludt. Másnap elment Taubékhoz. Taubék persze befogadták, és ott bújtatták. Voltak még hárman szlovákok. Ez a Zalmi lett eztán Ilonka második férje, és együtt alijáztak 1947-ben vagy 1948-ban, illegálisan. Szerén néni és Sándor bácsi legálisan mentek ki. Ilonka és Zalmi sokáig Cipruson voltak, mert nem engedték be őket. Aztán egy idő múlva mehettek. Amikor a gyerek megtudta a nagynénjétől, Gizitől, hogy jön az anyja, kijött a kibucból, és elment Tel-Avivba, Gizihez, aki egy háznál cselédeskedett. Úgyhogy ő már ott várta az anyját. A hajóhoz egy kibuc küldött teherautókat. Elindult velük a teherautó, és karambolozott. Zalmi mentette meg Ilonka életét, mert a nagy ütközésből kirántotta, de már egy kicsit beléjük kapott a láng. Ilonkának megégett az egész arca, leégett a szempillája. Zalminak nem történt semmi baja. Ez volt a megérkezés Izraelbe. Ilonkát egyenesen vitték a kórházba, és a gyerek ott látta újra az anyját, gézbe csomagolva. De aztán kialakult az életük, Zalmi először valami Tel-Aviv melletti gyárban dolgozott, ott kaptak lakást, egy hosszú, barakkszerű épületben. A vécé olyan messze volt, hogy biciklivel mentek. Ennek ellenére, aki megérkezett Miskolcról vagy Kassáról, az mind náluk töltötte az első éjszakákat. De ez őket nem zavarta, nagy cionisták voltak, itt minden szép és jó, eljöttek Magyarországról, velük ez soha többet nem fordulhat elő, és építik az országot. Zalmi Kassán kereskedelmi iskolát végzett, és Izraelben egy idő múlva hites könyvszakértő lett. Haifán éltek aztán, született egy közös kislányuk. Ilonka csak a gyerekeket nevelte, és szép, boldog életet éltek. Zalmi négy éve halt meg, Ilonka pedig már a kilencvenedik felé közeledik. Még mindig a család közepe, van vagy húsz unoka, harminc dédunoka. Húsvét előtt beszélgettünk, és mondta: lesz széder, de én már nem tudok elmenni, mondtam nekik, hogy rendezzék meg. És tudod, mit csináltak, úgy határoztak, hogy itt, nálam rendezik meg a szédert, engem beültetnek a párnáim közé a fotelba, mert Ilonka nélkül a család nem széderezik. Mert Ilonkának hívja az egész család, nem nagymamának.

Fried Gizella, a nagyanyám hozzáment a nyíregyházi Weiszberger Hermanhoz, és elköltöztek Mezőkeresztesre, mert Herman ott kapott hittantanári állást [Mezőkeresztes – Borsod (1920 után: Borsod, Gömör és Kishont) vm.-i nagyközség, 1891-ben 4400, 1910-ben 4500, 1920-ban 4300 főnyi lakossal. – A szerk.]. Ott született négy gyerekük: Lenke, az anyám 1905-ben, Rózsi 1911-ben és két fiú, akik korán meghaltak. Az egyik az első világháborúban, a másik valamilyen betegségben. A nevüket nem tudom. Herman nagyon vallásos ember volt, a végzettsége jesiva bóher lehetett, sőt meréne ráv volt, nem tudom, hallott-e erről a fokozatáról a vallástudománynak. A meréne ráv, aki különösen ismeri a Talmudot [„Meréne = tanítónk. Kiváló talmudisták egyházi címe, amit a rabbik adományoznak.” „Merénemeráv = tanítónk, a rabbi.” – Magyar–jiddis szógyűjtemény, Blau Henrik és Láng Károly szerk., Pápa, 1941. – A szerk.]. Napi foglalatossága volt, hogy reggel elment a templomba, és este is elment a templomba. A kettő között végezte a dolgát. Gyönyörű írása volt, sokat olvasó, elmélyedő ember volt.

Valamikor az első világháború előtt, 1912-ben vagy 1913-ban Salgótarjánba költöztek. A salgótarjáni lakás az Óvoda téren volt. Két szoba, konyha, spejz. Se fürdőszoba, se vécé. Két hosszú ház volt, benne egymás után a lakások. Az egyik sorban volt a Gombó-féle pékség, és abban két család lakott, a másikban sorban négy család, és a két hosszú ház között valami udvarféle, ott jöttek be a kocsik a pékséghez.

Gizella nagyon életrevaló, ügyes asszony volt, és mivel Mezőkeresztesen igencsak szegényesen éltek ebből a hitközségi fizetésből, és mivel Salgótarjánnak abban az időben olyan híre volt, hogy ott jól meg lehet élni, elmentek, és a nagymama nyitott egy zöldségüzletet. A nagypapa pedig kapott egy mesgiáh állást. A mesgiáh állás azt jelentette, hogy a mészárszékben a marhának azt a részét, amelyik kóser, először ki kellett rejnigolni. És ha ő erre rátette a pecsétet, hogy rejnigolt és kóser, az eladható volt [A négylábú állatok hátsó részében fut végig az ún. „gid hánáse” (ülőideg vagy szökőin), amelyet Jákob angyallal vívott harcának emlékére nem szabad elfogyasztani. Ha ezt az inat szakszerűen eltávolítják az állat hátsó feléből, akkor a maradékot meg lehet enni, de az áskenáz országokban nagyon kevesen tudják, hogyan kell az inat eltávolítani. Emiatt pl. Magyarországon is inkább az volt a szokás, hogy az egész hátsó részt eladták a nem zsidóknak. Mindazonáltal ha valaki ért a szakszerű eltávolításhoz, akkor a hátsó rész maradéka kóser. – A szerk.].

Gizella korán, harminchárom éves korában meghalt. Ez úgy történt, hogy Hanukára mindig hazament a szüleihez. Ez a makkegészséges fiatalasszony a vonatúton úgy megfázott, hogy tüdőgyulladást kapott. Mire megérkezett, belázasodott. Gondolták, megfázott, majd elmúlik. Negyvenkét fokos láza lett, és két nap alatt meghalt ott, Tiszaszederkényben. Akkor halt meg, amikor a dédapám meggyújtotta az első hanukagyertyát. Úgyhogy másutt a Hanuka mindenhol örömünnep, nálunk mindig úgy kezdődik, hogy most halt meg Giza, és meggyújtjuk a gyertyát. A zöldségüzlet Gizella halála után megszűnt.

Hermannak gyorsan meg kellett nősülnie, mert ott volt a négy gyerek. Visszament Nyíregyházára, és ott ajánlották neki Malvin nénit, aki a testvérével, Helénkével együtt eljött Salgótarjánba. Talán unokatestvérei lehettek, mert őket is Weiszbergernek hívták. Nemsokára Herman katona lett, és még hadifogságban is töltött egy vagy két évet. Malvin néni és Helénke, mind a ketten női fűzőkészítők voltak. Két varrógépet hoztak hozományba. Nagy szerencséjük volt, hogy az OTI szerződött velük gyógyfűzőkészítésre. Sokáig ők voltak Salgótarjánban az OTI gyógyfűzőkészítői. Sokat dolgoztak. Nappal a gyerekek és a háztartás, éjszaka pedig ment a varrógép. Ebből a második házasságból már nem lett gyerek. Aztán Herman, Malvin és Helénke Auschwitzban végezte.

Nagyapám nagyon vallásos volt. Ortodox, kóser konyhával, amit Malvin néni vitt. Anyám azért nem volt parókás, de az élet szombaton leállt [lásd: szombati munkavégzés tilalma], minden ünnepet megtartottunk. Rózsi nagynénémnél hasonlóképpen. Ők sem voltak abszolút ortodoxok, de apuka miatt – így hívták a nagyapámat – muszáj volt. Például télen korán jött be pénteken a szombat, és olyankor az üzletük még tele volt vevővel, a kalapokat sem fejezték még be a műhelyben. Négy órakor félig lehúzták a redőnyt, hogy úgy lássék, hogy mindjárt zárnak. A nagyapám indult a templomba, és végigzörgette a redőnyöket, hogy „Rózsi, son sabesz”. És akkor megnyugodva továbbment, mert most már biztos be fogják zárni az üzletet. A péntek esti vacsora szent volt, mindenki ott volt az Óvoda téri lakásban. A széder is mindig itt volt. Ebből 1945 után semmi nem maradt meg. Anyunál annyi, hogy gyertyát gyújtott minden péntek este. De a szombatot már nem tartotta, a konyha sem volt kóser, sőt, sertéshúst is evett. De volt széder, és volt jam kiper [Jom Kipur] és volt rasa sone [Ros Hásáná]. Az anyukám az évi szabadságát mindig ezekre az őszi ünnepekre vette ki. Amikor különköltöztünk, akkor is mindig megtartottuk anyunál. Mostanában én vagyok a családból a legvallásosabb. Szédert tartok, és rasa sonét. Minden maszkernál [lásd: mázkir] ott vagyok a templomban és nagyünnepeken a Hegedűsben [Az újlipótvárosi egykori Csáky utcai templomkörzet zsinagógájáról van szó, amelyet egy imaszobából Baumhorn Lipót alakított át 1927-ben. – A szerk.]. Gyertyát gyújtok pénteken, de kóser konyhát nem viszek. A gyerekeim már gyertyát sem gyújtanak. De azért öntudatos zsidók lettek. Mindkettőnek zsinagógában volt az esküvője, az egyiknél a Rabbiképzőben Scheiber rabbi volt [lásd: Scheiber Sándor], a másiknál a Dohány utcai zsinagógában Schőner [Schőner Alfréd volt egy időben a főrabbi a Dohány utcai zsinagógában. – A szerk.]. Minden évben együtt megyünk le Salgótarjánba az auschwitzi évfordulóra. Jönnek az unokák is.

Anyám mindig emlegette, hogy ameddig anyuka élt, addig nekünk mindenünk megvolt. Jóban volt a mostohájával, Malvin nénivel is, aki nagyon jó asszony volt, de a gyerekek szeretnek egy kicsit pimaszkodni a mostohával, a második feleséggel. Talán azt gondolják, hogy ezzel illik adózni az édesanyjuknak. Talán azt gondolják, hogy nem szabad annyira szeretni, mint amennyire szerethették volna. Mert a lelkét kitette ez a Malvin néni. Hát engem ő nevelt, és nem tudtam olyan rossz lenni, hogy ne szeressen.

Amikor a nagymama meghalt, anyám tíz éves volt, és polgáriba járt. Mindegyik gyerek négy polgárit [lásd: polgári iskola] végzett. Ez nagyon fontos volt a nagyapámnak. Anyám a polgári elvégzése után tulajdonképpen otthon volt, ő látta el az apját, mosott, vasalt, főzött, intézte Rózsi ügyeit, ő volt az anya helyett anya. Rózsi a négy polgári után szakmát tanult, női kalaposságot, ott, Salgótarjánban. Singernénél tanult, akinek otthon volt a kalapműhelye. A férje pedig a Singer varrógépgyárnak volt a megbízottja, ott volt egy lerakata. Igen bohém ember volt, az egész család ilyen összevisszaságban élt. Singernénél mindent kellett Rózsinak csinálnia, csak éppen kalapot nem, arra nem nagyon ért rá Singer néni, hogy arra is tanítsa. Anyám többször elment megnézni, és rájött, hogy Rózsi itt soha nem fogja megtanulni a kalapkészítést, mert inkább mosogat, meg mos, meg vasal, részt vesz a család ellátásában. Egy év után anyám úgy határozott, hogy Rózsi ezt nem csinálja tovább. Fogta Rózsit, és fölhozta Pestre. Valami rokonnál lakott, és Pesten kitanulta a kalaposságot. Anyám és én mindig feljöttünk a filléres vonattal megnézni Rózsit, hogy rendben vannak-e a dolgok. Nekem akkor ez óriási szenzáció volt, hogy jöttünk a filléressel Pestre. Egyébként semmire nem emlékszem, csak a vonatra. Rózsi kitanulta a szakmát, visszajött Salgótarjánba. Megszerezte a mesterlevelet, és úgy határozott, hogy senkinek nem lesz az alkalmazottja, hanem önálló lesz, és megnyitja a saját üzletét. Akkor már járt Weisz Gyulával. Gyula szülei már nem éltek, csak egy nővére, Weisz Sári [Kilovits Jánosné] és egy fiútestvére, Jenő, aki a világ legnagyobb szélhámosa volt. Dobos volt egy zenekarban, de megbízhatatlan, pont az ellentéte Gyulának. Szegény Gyula egész életében őt támogatta, és őmiatta szégyenkezett. Gyula úgy kezdte, hogy minden hétfőn kirakodóvásár volt Salgótarjánban, hétfő volt a vásárnap, és volt egy standja, ahol cipőpasztát és mindenfélét árult. Közben futballozott az STC-ben, nagyon jóképű és szorgalmas fiú volt. Hamarosan megnyitotta az üzletét, egy férfi divatáruüzletet. Az is nagyon jól ment. Ő volt a Márfia férfi kalap lerakata, az egy nagynevű kalapos volt akkor, ő csinálta a legjobb nyúlszőr kalapokat. Ez azt jelentette, hogy Salgótarjánban máshol nem lehetett Márfia kalapot kapni.

Szóval Rózsi, amikor elhatározta, hogy önálló lesz, felment Pestre, a Király utcában megkereste Gross nőikalap-nagykereskedőt. Rózsi szép nő volt, remek fellépése volt, elmondta, hogy megnyitja [Salgó]Tarjánban az üzletét. Gross úr lejött [Salgó]Tarjánba, megnézte az üzlethelyiséget az üres polcokkal, és megbeszélték az első szállítmányt. De pénze nem volt Rózsinak, hogy három nagy doboz kalapot kifizessen. Gross úr ugyanis utánvéttel küldte, nem csak úgy, hogy majd fizet. Egy napon szólt a postás, Forgó bácsi, hogy Rózsika, megjött az utánvétes csomag, viszem a kalapdobozokat. Jó, Forgó bácsi, hozza. De azt még nem tudta, hogy fogja kifizetni. Gyula éppen jött megnézni Rózsit, és Rózsi kérdezi: Gyula, van nálad pénz? – Van. – Ki kell váltani ezt a csomagot. Váltsd ki, majd visszaadom a pénzt. A postás hozta a dobozokat, és megtelt az üzlet kalapokkal. Megnyílt a műhely is. Akkor még úgy volt, hogy a lakás első részében volt az üzlet, és hátul volt a műhely. Elindult a kalapszalon. Most az ember arra gondol, hogy Salgótarjánban kalapot árulni, micsoda botorság. De akkor mindenki kalapot hordott, nem volt idény, mert volt nyári kalap, téli kalap, kalap temetésre, misére, úrnapjára. Aztán még megszerezte a GFB női harisnya és habselyemáru árusítási jogát is [GFB – Guttmann–Fekete Budapest – az 1924-ben alapított Guttmann–Fekete harisnya- és kötöttárugyár termékeit 1927-től jegyezték GFB védjeggyel. A termékeket az egységes, modern berendezésű, tetszetős kirakatú Pók üzletekben árusították, az első ilyet 1931-ben nyitotta Fekete Jenő Budapesten, a Rákóczi úton. – A szerk.]. Később aztán már nem csak utánvéttel kapta a kalapot Grosstól, hanem bizományba. Rózsi mindig tudott fizetni, sosem volt inszolvens. 1935-ben összeházasodtak, mert Gyula nem olyan volt, hogy a feleségnek a tűzhely mellett a helye, épp az tetszett neki Rózsiban, hogy olyan talpraesett. Gyorsan jómódba kerültek.

Később a nagyapám halkereskedéssel kezdett foglalkozni. Olyan halkereskedő lett, hogy a lakás mellett az udvarban felállított egy fabódét, ez lett a halüzlet. Minden héten hozatott két kosár halat, az egyiket a hortobágyi halastóból, a másikat az apatini halgazdaságból. Csütörtök este érkezett meg a hal jég között. Péntek reggel nekikezdett a halat felbontani, kipucolni és felszeletelni. Volt vagy hat macskánk, azok ilyenkor ott álltak körben. Aztán jöttek a szomszédok, a sok szegény ember, az egyik három szelet halat vett, a másik négyet. Mire végzett, soha nem gyűlt össze annyi pénz, amennyit a halgazdaságoknak kellett fizetni a halért. Mindig Rózsi nagynéném pótolta ki. Amikor elfogyott a hal, akkor nagyapám feladta a pénzt, és leült levelet írni, hogy jövő hétre mit kér. Ez mind nagy elfoglaltság volt. Gyönyörű írása volt, és igyekezett szép stílusban írni. Emlékszem egy levélre, ami a hortobágyi halgazdaságtól jött, hogy „Kedves Weiszberger Úr! Csak arra kérjük, hogy kevesebb szóvirágot használjon, mert szeretnénk megérteni, hogy mit rendel”. Ezenkívül templomba járt, és a Talmudot tanulmányozta. Értelmes, érdeklődő ember volt, de újságot például úgy olvasott, hogy átment Weisz Gyulához a kiolvasott újságért, és elhozta. Gyulának járt a „Magyar Nemzet”, „Az Est” és a zsidó újság, az „Egyenlőség”. A család nőtagjai nem olvastak újságot, csak ő. A nők inkább könyvet olvastak. Könyv ugyan nem volt otthon, de az Ipartestületnek volt egy könyvtára, minden csütörtökön lehetett menni és cserélni. Az a könyvtár mindig tele volt a szomszédainkkal és a város zsidóságával. Négy-öt könyvet minden csütörtökön hazavittek az emberek, és olvastak. Volt könyvespolcunk, de ott a nagyapám könyvei voltak, Talmud könyvek meg ilyenek.

Anyámnak volt egy nagy szerelme, akinek már a menyasszonya volt, de a család úgy határozott, hogy hozomány kell, mert a családnak valami fatelepe volt, de azt akarták, hogy az ifjú pár önállósítsa magát. A Fried család megígérte, hogy összeadják a hozományt. Már kitűzték az esküvőt is. Tiszaszederkényben volt egy ilyen családi megbeszélés a hozomány összeszedéséről, és anyu éppen ott aludt a nagyszüleinél. A fiúk kérdezték, hogy ennyi pénzt honnan szedünk össze. Mire azt mondta a dédanyám, hogy nem baj, meg kell ígérni, legyen meg az esküvő, és utána a hozományt úgy adjuk oda és akkor, ahogy van pénz. Ezt meghallotta az anyám, mert még nem aludt. Másnap kijelentette, hogy ő így nem megy férjhez, hogy megígérik a hozományt, ami nem létezik. Visszaküldte a jegygyűrűjét azzal, hogy már nem szereti. Szóval ilyen szép tutsekannás történet kerekedett belőle [Tutsek Anna (1865–1944) – író. 1894-től a „Magyar Leányok” c. képes hetilap szerkesztője. Különösen a női olvasóközönség polgári rétegeiben voltak olvasottak erkölcsjavító célzattal írt konzervatív szemléletű írásai (Viola története /regény/, Cilike /regénysorozat/ 1904–14). – A szerk.]. Anyám ebbe szinte beleőrült, mert nagyon szerette ezt az embert. Aztán húszéves korában hozzáment Ungerleider Bélához, akivel sádhen hozta össze. Tulajdonképpen a Fried család hozta össze, mert az a környék, Mezőcsát, Tiszaszederkény, az egész kile ismerte egymást. Tudták, hogy ott van egy nőtlen fiatalember, itt van egy eladó lány. 1925-ben összeházasodtak, és anyu odaköltözött Mezőcsátra, ahol bérelt lakásban laktak.

Mivel az apám meghalt 1929-ben, egyéves koromban, az anyám hazajött Mezőcsátról Salgótarjánba egy fillér nélkül. Minden pénzt elvitt az apám betegsége. Sőt, amit anyám haláláig mesélt: az Ungerleider családtól egy gyönyörű fehér, zománcos Kalor-kályhát kaptak nászajándékba, és amikor anyám eljött, az Ungerleider nagyanyám azt mondta, hogy nem viheted el, Lenke a Kalor-kályhát. Ők nem tudnak minket segíteni, menjen haza az apukájához. Szóval így jött el az anyám meztelen fenékkel Mezőcsátról. Soha semmi kapcsolatunk nem volt velük, még a születésnapomról sem emlékeztek meg. Annyi volt a kapcsolatunk, hogy minden évben elmentünk Mezőcsátra az apám sírjához, és akkor meglátogattuk a nagymamát és az ott élő sógornőket, sógort. Nagyapám már nem élt, apám halála után két évvel meghalt, a nagyanyám egy szomorú asszony volt. Az évi egyszeri látogatások úgy zajlottak, hogy először odamentünk hozzájuk. Volt egy nagybátyám, az apám testvére, aki mindig ragaszkodott hozzá, hogy kikísérjen minket a temetőbe. Az első világháborúból egy olyan betegséggel jött haza, hogy ment öt lépést, és akkor meg kellett állnia, elvégzett néhány gyakorlatot, hogy puskát kézbe, cél, tűz, puskát vállra, és közben mondta is a vezényszavakat, aztán mintha semmi nem lenne, mehetett tovább. Nagyon féltem tőle. Különben semmi baja nem volt, megnősült, lett három szép lánya. Etelka néni, a felesége varrónő volt. Szóval ezek az évenkénti mezőcsáti látogatások nem voltak nekem örömteli látogatások. Egyszer nyaraltam nagyanyámnál egy hétig, de nagyon rosszul éreztem magam. Amikor már súlyos beteg volt a nagymamám, és Pesten volt kórházban, akkor az édesanyám felküldött egy slepperrel. Volt vagy nyolc slepper Salgótarjánban. Ezeknek az volt a foglalkozása, hogy a reggeli gyorssal feljöttek Pestre, és nyolc-tíz kereskedőnek hoztak-vittek csomagokat. Szóval én is egy ilyen slepper-csomag voltam, akit tízévesen elvittek a nagyanyámhoz a kórházba, és többet nem találkoztunk.

Szóval visszaköltöztünk Salgótarjánba, az Óvoda téri lakásba, ahol anyám a gyerekkorát töltötte. Nagyapámmal, Malvinnal és Helénkével összesen öten laktunk itt. Rózsi már elköltözött. A hitközség azonnal felajánlotta, hogy segélyt adnak, de anyám ettől teljesen megrettent. Neki segélyt! Úgy határozott, hogy neki pénzt kell keresnie. Volt egy barátnője, Grünné Klein Irén, akinek fodrász- és manikűrszalonja volt Salgótarjánban. Ő volt a legjobb barátnője. Anyu elment hozzá, hogy Irén, nekem semmi mást nem olyan könnyű megtanulni, hogy azonnal pénzt keressek, mint a manikűrözést. Kérlek, taníts meg manikűrözni. Irén megígérte, de amikor anyám először odament, Irén azt mondta, hogy Lenke, meggondoltam magam. Miért neveljek én konkurenciát magamnak? Ne haragudj, nem tanítalak meg. Anyám mégis megtanult manikűrözni, azt már nem tudom, hogy kitől. Megvette a kistáskáját a szerszámokkal, és elkezdett házakhoz járni. Először csak az ismerősök, aztán terjedt a híre, mert rém ügyes kezű volt. Reggel elindult nyolc órakor, és este hétig járt házról házra, és manikűrözött. Ötven fillér volt egy manikűr. De ezenkívül mindent csinált. Díszpárnát montírozott. Ahogy ő mondta: az ő erszényéből sose fogyott ki a pénz. Ő tartotta el a családot, mert közben megszűnt a fűzőkészítés, az OTI nem szerződött tovább. Anyám csak dolgozott, dolgozott, és soha nem éreztem, hogy szegények lennénk. Mindig jól voltam öltöztetve.

Anyám soha nem fogadott el segélyt a Nőegylettől, sőt. Minden hétvégén, péntek este elővette a pénztárcáját, és megszámolta a heti keresetét. A heti keresetéből tíz százalékot betett a márberneszbe. A márbernesz egy sötétkék persely volt, ami minden zsidó házban volt [A minden zsidó házban megtalálható kék színű fémpersely a Zsidó Nemzeti Alap, a Keren Kajemet Lejiszrael (KKL) perselye volt. Lásd ott. Volt egy jiddisül „mátnbeszészernek” nevezett persely, amit a templomok falába építettek be, ide névtelenül lehetett a szegények segítésére szánt pénzt bedobni. Természetesen az sem kizárt, hogy az otthoni és „márbernesz” névvel illetett persely egy kék persely volt. Lásd még: jótékonyság kötelezettsége. – A szerk.]. A márbernesz egy zsidó alapítvány volt, és az így összegyűlt pénzt szétosztotta a még szegényebbeknek. Tehát nem ő kapott segélyt, hanem ő adott.

Még az a kis intermezzo is volt közben, hogy följelentette őt Weisz Gyula sógora, hogy iparengedély nélkül dolgozik. Neki is fodrászüzlete volt, nála is manikűröztek, de Lenke nagy konkurencia lett. Ez aztán szállóige lett a családban: örök hálával tartozom Jancsinak, hogy följelentett, mert ha akkor nem váltom ki az ipart, talán még évekig retteghetek, hogy ipar nélkül dolgozom, és még hány büntetést kellett volna kifizetnem. De anyám nem csak manikűrrel foglalkozott. Mindent vállalt, amit csak lehetett. Lejött Salgótarjánba egy cég perzsaszőnyegeket árulni. Nem sok sikerrel. Az anyám összeakadt velük, és mondta, hogy ő árulná a szőnyeget. Mivel [Salgó]Tarjánban ő járt el manikűrözni a nagyságos asszonyokhoz, mindenkit ismert. Ő összehozta az üzletet, és jutalékot kapott. De nem pénzt kért, hanem perzsaszőnyeget. Így maradt a deportálásunkkor ott három vagy négy perzsaszőnyeg. Aztán volt olyan, hogy kis alabástromdarab és a közepén egy fénykép. Jött egy utazó, anyám ezzel is összeakadt, és akkor neki árulta ezeket. Salgótarjánban mindenkinek volt ilyen alabástromba ültetett fényképe. Ebből is kapott százalékot.

Közben lett egy új partnere, Herskovics Ödön, aki a biztosítótársaságnál dolgozott. Nagyon jól megvoltak. Anyunak megszépítette a napjait, mert nem csak manikűrözött reggeltől estig. 1933-34 körül úgy határoztak, hogy összeházasodnak. Nagy volt az öröm, a család is készülődött. Új ruha, új cipő, ridikül. Úgy volt, hogy Pesten lesz az esküvő. Följöttek a reggeli gyorssal, és nem volt vőlegény. Herskovics Ödön eltűnt. Eltűnt a munkahelyéről, eltűnt a városból. Meggondolta magát, mégsem akart házasodni, és ezt az egyszerű módját választotta. Már csak a háború után hallottuk, hogy valahol munkaszolgálatosként agyonlőtték.

Aztán anyám a háború után hozzáment Gutfreund Antalhoz. Antal bácsiéknak fűszerüzletük és kocsmájuk volt Salgótarjánban az üveggyárral szemben, a saját házukban, ahol a feleségével és három lányával élt. Mind Auschwitzban végezték, a gázkamrában. Antal bácsi karpaszományos zászlósként vonult be a munkaszolgálatra, de aztán azt ott hamar letépték róla. Az utolsó állomása Mauthausen volt, onnan vánszorgott haza. Anyám sokáig ápolta, aztán 1946-ban hozzáment. A kocsmát és a boltot közben kifosztották, egyedül az adósok könyve maradt meg, amiben minden hónapban fel volt írva az üveggyár és a Hirsch-gyár munkásainak a tartozása.

A legkorábbi emlékem az ötéves születésnapom. Erre azért emlékszem, mert a szomszédban lakott a zsidó Gombó Eszter, aki velem egyidős volt, és egyforma fehér kis konyhakredencet kaptunk, ilyen bababútort. Ez fényűző, nagy ajándéknak számított. Ami gyerekkoromban jó volt, hogy rengeteg gyerekkel voltam körülvéve. Ezek ott az udvarban lakó gyerekek voltak, és a legjobb barátnőm Partényi Mandi (Mária) volt, az óvónő lánya. Ő nem volt zsidó. Mi az Óvoda téren laktunk, és két sarokkal arrébb volt a Régiposta utca, amit Zsidó utcának hívtak, ott csak zsidók laktak. De az Óvoda téren is csak zsidók laktak. Az Óvoda tér mellett futott az Erzsébet utca, egy rövid utca, ott is csak zsidók laktak. Ott voltak az üzletek. A salgótarjáni zsidók egy csomóban laktak, bent a város közepén. Ott voltak az üzleteik, és az üzletek mögött a lakásaik. Minden műhely ezekben a hosszú udvarokban volt, mert nem csak kereskedők voltak a [salgó]tarjáni zsidók, hanem rengeteg iparos volt. Volt bádogos, villanyszerelő, pék, fogtechnikus, minden szakma képviselve volt. Sőt, volt két acélgyári munkás is.

Ezen a két barátnőmön kívül volt még vagy hat barátnőm, azok mind zsidók voltak. Igazán a zsidó barátnők voltak az én világom. Ez egy vallásos város volt. A salgótarjáni főutcán harminckét üzletből harmincegy zárva volt szombaton. Az az egy Melihercsik cukorkaüzlete volt, aki nem volt zsidó. Így nevelődtem, együtt voltak az ünnepeink, mindent együtt csináltunk.

Másfél évet jártam óvodába, a nagycsoportba. De ez se volt nekem olyan zökkenőmentes. Ezt a Partényi nénit mint óvó nénit nem szerettem. Fogtam magam, s megnéztem az acélgyári óvodát, hogy az milyen. Már egy hete az acélgyári óvodába jártam, amikor anyuék még nem tudták, hogy már átiratkoztam oda. Óvodásként, egyedül, önállóan ott hagytam a Partényi néni-féle óvodát, és elmentem az acélgyáriba, ami elég messze volt tőlünk, legalább ötszáz méterre. Egyszer kerestek az óvodában, és akkor az óvó néni mondta, hogy már egy hete nem látott. Persze hogy miért nem szólt át a kerítésen már egy nap múlva, azt nem tudom. Talán örült, hogy eggyel kevesebb. Az acélgyári óvodában nagyon jól éreztem magam, és onnan mentem az elemibe. Ez állami elemi volt, mert a zsidó elemi, nem tudom, miért, megszűnt, mire én iskolába mentem. Maga az iskolaépület a volt zsidó iskola volt, a város közepén. Egy húszas létszámú osztályban volt hat zsidó gyerek.

A harmadik elemit nagyon szerettem, mert a tanítónő fölkeltette az érdeklődésemet. Akkor nagyon jól is tanultam, harmadikban tiszta egyes voltam [A második világháború előtti oktatási rendszerben az „egyes” volt a legjobb osztályzat. – A szerk.]. Soha többet nem voltam tiszta egyes. Negyedikben már nem ő volt, és azt nagyon untam, nem is voltam olyan jó tanuló. Azért elvégeztem az iskolát, mert értelmes gyerek voltam. Nem kellett velem tanulni, de nem is ért volna erre rá senki. Amikor befejeztem, jött a polgári. Az fel sem merült, hogy gimnáziumba menjek, mert már nagyon kevés zsidó gyereket vettek föl [Szegő Andorné 1938-ban volt 10 éves, ekkor kezdhette volna a középiskolát. De „1939 őszétől kezdve … miniszteri rendelettel bevezették az osztályonkénti 6 százalékos kvótarendszert az újonnan beiratkozó zsidó tanulókra vonatkozólag. Ettől függetlenül is, s ezt megelőzőleg a keresztény egyházak (különösen a többségi katolikus egyház) felügyelete alatt működő középiskolák kapui fokozatosan bezárultak a zsidó jelentkezők elől” (Karády Viktor: Felekezetsajátos középiskolázási esélyek és a zsidó túliskolázás mérlege, in „Zsidóság és társadalmi egyenlőtlenségek /1867–1945/”, Replika Kör, Budapest, 2000, 234. oldal). – A szerk.]. Aki elkezdte, még befejezhette, de felvenni már nem nagyon vettek.

Az állami polgáriban öt pengő volt a havi tandíj. Anyu ragaszkodott hozzá, hogy mindent ő fizessen. Ilyet nem fogadtunk el Rózsitól. Gesztenyepürét meg új ruhát igen, de tandíjat nem. A polgáriban jobban éreztem magam, mint az elemiben. Huszonöt fő volt az osztálylétszám, és öten voltunk zsidók. Nagyon jó magyartanárnőm volt, aki nagyon megszerettette velem. Ez úgy sikerült, hogy az első feleletem egyes lett, és ez meghatározta az egész továbbit. Partényi Mandi is velem járt, és a zsidó lányok közül volt még két nagyon jó barátnőm, a Schweitzer Márta és a Netzer Piroska. Aztán jó volt az önképzőkör. Osztálytársam volt az a Várkonyi Ágnes is, akiből történész lett. Akkor már rájöttem, hogy tanulnom kell, és tudni kell. Jó rendű tanuló voltam, olyan kettes, csak matematikából volt néha hármasom.

Nyáron volt a városi strand, ahova kijártunk, de oda nem túl sokat. Nekem volt egy másik baráti köröm is a Karancs utcában, nem messze tőlünk. Ott is hasonló házak, hasonló légkör és hasonló nívójú családok. Például Fischeréknél volt egy kétszoba-előszoba-konyhás lakás, amiben hét testvér élt, plusz a szülők. Ennek a lakásnak volt egy hátsó udvara bokrokkal, ami csak a miénk volt, és ott csodálatosakat játszottunk. Oda járt a környék összes gyereke. Olyan jól éreztük magunkat, hogy boldogtalan lettem volna, ha nekem el kell menni nyaralni. Anyám, amikor éppen arra vitte útja, mert ment valamelyik kuncsafthoz manikűrözni, beszaladt, megnézett, és kérdezte Fischer nénit, hogy mit csinál az én lányom itt egész nap, hogy ebédelni is alig akar hazajönni. Főzőcskéztünk, körjátékok voltak, színházat játszottunk.

A szomszéd ócskavas-kereskedő volt, ahova a cigányok hordták az ócskavasat, és mindig letettek egy biciklit. Ahogy letették, Mandival együtt kértük, hogy tessék kölcsönadni. És itt tanultunk meg felnőtt biciklin. Aztán 1942-ben megkaptam életem első biciklijét. Mandi már előbb kapott egy gyönyörű, nikkelezett biciklit. Akkor már kirándulásokat is csináltunk, Losonc volt a legmesszebbi kirándulásunk, ami harmincvalahány kilométer. Határ nem volt, mert már miénk volt a Felvidék [lásd: első bécsi döntés]. Később saját kezűleg kellett a biciklit leadni a rendőrségen, talán 1944 elején, mert zsidónak nem lehet biciklije [lásd: „Zsidórádiók” és „zsidóbiciklik”]. Adtak valami papírt is róla, hogy átvették. Hú, micsoda szívfájdalmam volt az!

Tudtam korcsolyázni is, csatos korcsolyám volt. Két korcsolyapálya volt: volt a városi jégpálya és az acélgyári. De az acélgyáriba zsidó nem járt. Az acélgyáriak egy antiszemita társaság volt. Nem tudom, miért alakult ez ki, pedig az Acélgyárat zsidók alapították [Nem tudjuk, kire gondol Szegő Andorné. A későbbi Acélgyár elődje, a Salgótarjáni Vasfinomító Rt. 1867-ben alakult meg (Andrássy Manó /1821–1891/ alapította), és 1881-ben jött létre a Rima-Murányvölgyi Vasművelő Egyesület és a Salgótarjáni Vasfinomító Rt. egyesülésével a Salgótarján-Rimamurányi Vasmű Rt. A vállalathoz tartozó salgótarjáni acélműben kovácsolt kéziszerszámokat gyártottak, majd vasöntöde létrehozására került sor. – A szerk.], sőt egy zsidó birtokos ingyen adott parcellákat az acélgyári munkásoknak, hogy ott építkezzenek. Szóval a városi jégpályára jártunk, de nem csak mi, gyerekek. Hét órakor bezártak a zsidó boltok, és az összes fiatal zsidó segéd, kereskedő ott korcsolyázott kilenc óráig. Jó hangulat volt ott. A jégpálya üzemeltetője, Nagy Jóska is zsidó volt. Tele volt a pálya, szólt a zene, fiúk voltak, lányok voltak, szerelmek szövődtek, mi kellett még, jól érezték magukat az emberek.

A Radó vándorszínház járta az országot, és minden szezonban Salgótarjánban is töltöttek egy hónapot [Talán Radó Béla (1876–1973) társulatáról van szó. – A szerk.]. Ott minden előadást megnéztünk, anyám ezért is manikűrrel fizetett. Moziba is jártunk. Minden vasárnap délután a baráti kör húsz fillérért moziba ment. Nem a szülőkkel, hanem csak a gyerekek. A mozival kapcsolatos élmény, hogy Péter Mancika, a pénztáros egyszer csak főhatóság lett a pénztárban, és mondta, hogy na, ti, lányok most jöhettek utoljára. Jövő hét vasárnaptól már zsidók nem jöhetnek. Így búcsúztunk el a salgótarjáni Apolló mozitól. Zenei élet Salgótarjánban nem volt, hangverseny sem volt. Zenét így nem is tanultam, nyelvet is csak az iskolában. Németet.

Életemben egyszer nyaraltam: Mezőcsáton a nagymamámnál egy hétig, de alig vártam, hogy hazajöjjek. Egyszer voltunk nyaralni Görömbölytapolcán. Rózsiékkal mentünk egy szállodába, ahol kóser koszt volt, de akkor jött Gyurika foga, és két éjszaka úgy üvöltött, hogy nem lehetett tőle aludni, és a tulaj megkért, hogy menjünk el, mert hazamennek a vendégei. Ezenkívül Mátrafüreden nyaraltam egyszer, ahol volt egy gyereküdültető hely, és anyám befizetett két hétre, mert abban az időben nagyon sovány voltam, és rosszul ettem. De ott jól éreztem magam, és meg is maradtam. Anyámnak az volt a mániája, hogy minden évben megröntgeneztetett, mert az apám tüdőbajban halt meg.

Hozzánk közel Salgóbánya volt, egy bányászfalu és Zagyvaróna. És ezen a két helyen a Gescheit család, Samu bácsi és a felesége, Elza néni minden nyáron kivett két-három szobát ilyen kis parasztházakban, összegyűjtöttek egy csomó gyereket, akikért fizetni kellett, és ott töltöttünk két-három hetet. Nekünk ment a teljes baráti körünk. Ez volt vagy háromszor-négyszer. Azt hiszem, anyu ezt lemanikűrözte, nem pénzzel fizetett. Anyunak voltak ilyen lemanikűrözős dolgai.

Partényi Mandival végig jó barátságban maradtunk. Ő belenőtt a családunkba. Minden péntek este nálunk vacsorázott, jó volt a hangulat, jól érezte magát nálunk. Gyertyagyújtás, nagyapám megérkezik a templomból, és megbencsolt, megáldott [lásd: áldások] bennünket. Mandi ugyanúgy meg lett bencsolva minden péntek este. Az lett a rögeszméje, hogy azon a héten, amikor meg lett bencsolva, jól fog felelni. Az anyja nem túlságosan örült ennek, de nem tiltotta. Az óvónőnek már volt valami társadalmi rangja, és inkább azt szerette volna, ha a lánya a tanító vagy az orvos gyerekeivel játszik. Persze nem is tilthatta volna meg, hogy zsidó gyerekekkel játsszon, ugyanis meghalt a férje, egyedül nevelte a két lányát, és állandóan hitelbe vásárolt a zsidó kereskedőknél, főleg azoknál, akiknek a gyerekei hozzá jártak. Mandival imádtuk egymást, és sokat  bicikliztünk együtt. Én is jártam hozzájuk. Volt egy lugas az udvaron, ott tanultunk. Jól éreztem magam náluk, a mamája kedves volt hozzám. A Partényi néni vénlány nővére volt a tanítónőm az elemiben, első osztályban. Jött 1942 és 1943, és amikor megszólaltak a légvédelmi szirénák, mindig átkiabált az udvaron, hogy Zsuzsa, menjetek a légópincébe, mert bombázás lesz. De nekünk nem volt hova menni, mert a kijelölt helyünkön, a Bauman-udvarban a légóparancsnok kijelentette, hogy zsidók ebbe a pincébe nem jöhetnek. Partényi néniék nem mondták, hogy menjünk át az ő pincéjükbe, csak átkiabált, hogy bombázás lesz.

Pedig harmonikusan éltek együtt [Salgó]Tarjánban a zsidók a nem zsidókkal. Amikor például a templomot avatták, 1906-ban, egy hétig tartó ünnepséget rendeztek, amire eljött a főispántól kezdve mindenki, aki a megyében és a városban számított. Az emberek együtt éltek, és jól érezték magukat együtt. [A Pásztor Cecília szerkesztésében 2003-ban megjelent „Salgótarjáni zsidótörténet. Általános és középiskolások számára” c. kötet adatai szerint a salgótarjáni zsinagógát 1901-ben kezdték építeni, és 1902-ban avatták föl. A mór stílusban emelt épületet 1964-ben lebontották. – A szerk.]

Először a polgári iskolában ért atrocitás. Talán tizenkét éves lehettem, és volt egy padtársam, akivel nagyon jóban voltam. Salgóbányáról járt be. A hittan úgy zajlott, hogy mi, zsidó gyerekek kimentünk az osztályból, és a tanáriban tartották a zsidó hittant. Hozzájuk pedig jött a tiszteletes úr, mert az osztály nagy része keresztény volt. Az egyik ilyen hittanóra után visszajöttem, leültem a helyemre, és Magda nem szólt hozzám. Mi van veled, Magda?, kérdeztem. Azt mondja, haragszom rád. – Miért? – Ti öltétek meg a Jézuskát. – Mit mondasz, Magda? – Most mondta a Lőrincze tiszteletes, hogy ti öltétek meg a Jézuskát. És én ezt nem tudom megbocsátani.

A másik: a Nyilaspártnak vagy Hungarista Pártnak [lásd: nyilasok] nyílt egy irodája az Acélgyárnál. Az Acélgyár egy külön város volt a városban. A városból ugyan kiesett, de építettek egy kolóniát, ahol a gyári munkások laktak. Viszonylag jó lakások voltak. Szóval megnyílt az irodája a nyilasoknak, és akkor elkezdett élni a városban ez a párt. Megjelentek a falfirkák, hogy zsidó nem jöhet be a sétányra. A gyerekek is rákaptak erre, utánunk szaladtak, csúfoltak, megverlek, te zsidó. Egyszer sétáltunk a főutcán a barátaimmal, mert akkor az volt a szokás, hogy sétáltak az emberek, és jött szembe velünk Gajdos százados úr. Amikor közel ért hozzánk, elkezdett ordítani, hogy ezek a zsidók még a járdán sétálhatnak. Lepofozom őket. Egy másik jelenet, talán 1943-ban lehetett, a postára mentünk az egyik kalapossegéddel pénzt feladni. Tömeg volt, ott mindig várakozni kellett, és egyszer csak egy nagy ordítozás, Klemen Aranka, a Klemen mészáros lánya elkezdett ordítani, hogy még zsidók itt föladhatnak pénzt. Még ide bejöhetnek a postára?!

Volt vendégünk is ebben az időben. Eperjesen élt egy fiatal orvos a családjával. Volt egy hároméves kislányuk és egy tíz-tizenkét éves fiú, Pista. 1941-ben a fiút eljuttatták Salgótarjánba, mert itt élt az anyja első férje, Szilárd Emil, aki a fiú apja volt, nekünk nagyon jó barátunk. Az Eperjesen maradtak Kamenyec-Podolszkban végezték [lásd: Kamenyec-Podolszkij-i vérengzés]. A gyerek nálunk mindennapos vendég volt, igyekeztünk mindent megtenni, hogy ne érezze a szülei hiányát. 1944. március tizenkilencedike [lásd: Magyarország német megszállása] után az apja felvitte a gyereket Pestre, egy távoli rokonhoz. Attól kezdve semmit nem tudtunk róla. Aztán a rendszerváltás idején volt a Várban egy rendezvény, zsidó–keresztény párbeszéd. Anyámmal feljöttünk rá Salgótarjánból. Anyám beszédbe elegyedett a mellette ülő férfivel, és mondta neki, hogy Salgótarjánból jött. Erre a férfi megkérdezte, hogy hívják. Megmondta a nevét. Mire a férfi: Lenke néni, nem ismer meg? Ő volt az a Pista gyerek. Túlélte Pesten a háborút, az első alijával Izraelbe ment, és Juda Lahav néven újságíró lett.

Amikor polgáriba jártam, egy nap úgy nézett ki, hogy hazamentem az iskolából, gyorsan megcsináltam a leckét, és mentem Rózsihoz, az üzletbe. Az én nagy szerencsém Rózsi volt. Rózsi már jómódban élt, szép lakásuk volt egy gyönyörű, újonnan épült kétemeletes, Bauhaus stílusú sarokházban, és én életem nagy részét tulajdonképpen ott töltöttem. Az a ház akkor szenzáció volt Salgótarjánban. Sajnos azóta lebontották. A földszinten volt Rózsi üzlete, mellette Gyuláé, és amellett még egy. A lakásuk a második emeleten volt, három szoba, hall. Az első emeleten volt a tulajdonos lakása, Schönberger Gyuláé. Rózsiéknál már volt fürdőszoba, ott fürdött az egész család. Én minden nap. Addig otthon fürödtem. Az anyám olyan tisztaságmániás volt, hogy minden reggel fürdenem kellett. Hat órakor behozták a teknőt a konyhába, alig fért el, mert a konyha kicsi volt, a nagy fazékban fürdővizet melegítettek, és ha esett, ha fújt, nekem fürödnöm kellett. Az egész család reggele annak jegyében telt, hogy Zsuzsinak fürdeni kell. Így én minden reggel megfürödve mentem iskolába. Amikor meglett Rózsiék fürdőszobás lakása, megszűnt a teknő, és a fürdés átkerült estére. Rézhengeres vízmelegítő volt, amit be kellett előtte fűteni. Volt egy mindenes, a házvezetőnő, egy nagyon rendes zsidó asszony, ő fűtött be. Úgyhogy a mellett a borzalmas negyed mellett, ahol laktunk, ez is jutott nekem.

Anyunak volt egy mániája: a matrózruhát évente nem Salgótarjánban vette, hanem feljött velem Pestre, a Sütő utcában volt a gyermekruhabolt, és ott vette meg, A kabátomat pedig Benesovszkinál. Ettől mindig el volt ájulva az egész hitközség, hogy Lenke, hát miért nevelsz te ilyen igényeket a lányodba. Anyám mindig azt mondta, hogyha belenevelem az igényt, akkor erre mindig igénye lesz, és meg is szerzi. Úgyhogy ezt csak bízzátok rám. Szóval én ilyen kétlaki voltam, félig a szegénységben, a szegények között éltem, de már volt egy kiút, a fürdőszobás gyönyörűség, és Rózsi, aki imádott engem: minden szépet és jót megadok ennek az árvagyereknek.

Rózsi kényeztetett, saját gyerekeként szeretett. Később lelkiismeret-furdalásom is lett ebből, mert akkoriban eltávolodtam anyutól. Nagyon keveset voltunk együtt, és minden, ami nekem az életből jó volt, az Rózsinál történt. Rózsinál volt egy rökamiém, rádióm – otthon nem volt rádió. Megtanultam, hogy gesztenyepürét akkor lehet enni, ha kedvem van. Otthon húsz fillért csak vasárnap lehetett kiadni erre. Anyám kicsit féltékeny is volt Rózsira. Rózsinál tanultam meg az igényesebb életet, hogyan kell jól öltözködni, ott tanultam meg olvasni, könyvet venni. A társaság értelmes volt, okosak voltak, szellemesek voltak, és ebbe ott úgy belenőttem. Megtanultam, hogy legyen egy elképzelésem arról, hogy akarom leélni az életemet, milyen társaságom legyen. Már tízéves koromban karácsony és húsvét előtt két hétre kimaradtam az iskolából, mert a Rózsi és a Gyula üzletében segítettem, sőt még a kalapműhelyben is. Nem csak árultak kalapot, hanem kalapátalakítás is volt. Az emberek elhozták a régi kalapokat, ránéztem, hogy alakítható-e, egyben van-e még a tomp, vagy már ki kell dobni. Rózsinak volt hat alkalmazottja, három segéd és három tanulólány. Nagyon jól éreztem magam az üzletben, ilyenkor azt is elfelejtettem, hova járok iskolába. Anyámtól megtanultam, hogyan kell dolgozni, Rózsitól pedig azt, hogyan kell kereskedni és élni a megkeresett pénzzel. Rózsiék egyik barátja, Burger Laci mindig azt mondta anyámnak, hogy neked hiába beszélek. Te egy szolgalélek vagy. Aki már tíz éve belenyugodott abba, hogy manikűrözni járjon, azzal nincs mit beszélni. De a lányod talán még fog tudni valamit hasznosítani abból, amit itt hall.

Rózsiéknak nagyon jó társaságuk volt. A nők minden este römiztek. Szigorúan hét órára ott kellett lenni mindig Rózsinál. Mindenki ott lakott a Fő utcán, a centrumban, egymástól egy lépésre. Mindenki elvégezte a dolgát, letette a gyerekeket. Kártyázás közben mindenről szó került, ami aznap történt. Legjobban az estéket szerettem Rózsinál, hallgatni, hogy mit beszélgetnek. Úgyhogy én mindig mindent tudtam, és volt egy mondás is, hogy „Zsuzsi csupa fül, vigyázzatok!”. Ilyenkor megbeszélték a pletykákat, ki kivel mikor és hol, aztán az életünkben jelentkező egyre több problémát, aminek mindig az volt a vége, hogy ez velünk nem fordulhat elő. Beszélgettek az újonnan megjelenő könyvekről. Olvastak Nyírő Józsefet, Leslie Howardot [Nem tudható, kire gondolt Szegő Andorné: ezen a néven csak a magyar származású angol filmszínész (1893–1943) ismeretes. – A szerk.], Cronint [Archibald J. Cronin (1896–1981) – népszerű angol író volt, az „Ezt látják a csillagok”, „A mennyország kulcsa” és a „Réztábla a kapu alatt” írója. – A szerk.], Sinclairt, Jókait, Kosztolányit. Volt ott egy szellemi mag, pár diplomás fiú, akik nyelveket beszéltek, követték a politikai eseményeket, volt lemezgyűjteményük. Rózsi engem tulajdonképpen felszippantott, mert csak ott éreztem jól magam. Ezzel szemben állt a Weiszberger-féle miliő, az Óvoda utcai lakás: mindig csak dolgozni, mert téged fel kell nevelni; ehhez elő kell teremteni a pénzt; soha senkitől nem fogadunk el semmit. Ott az esték úgy zajlottak, hogy a két Singer varrógép a szoba közepén, és a Weiszberger nagymamák varrtak.

1942-ben, a polgári után leszerződtem kalaposinasnak Rózsihoz három évre. De addigra már majdnem mindent tudtam. A segédlevelet viszont már nem tudtam megszerezni. 1944. március tizenkilencedike után jöttek haza Pestről többen, és mesélték, hogy mi történt. Salgótarjánba nem vonultak be a németek. Az üzletet már áprilisban át kellett adni, Gyula már nem volt itthon, munkaszolgálatos volt, Rózsi és én csináltuk a leltárt. Három vagy négy napig tartott. Három kereskedő vette át, Dombi Andor, Magyar Lajos és Fülöp Sándor, akik mind zsidó kereskedőknél tanulták ki a szakmát.

Aztán jött a sárga csillag, ami borzalmas volt. Még azt is utáltam, hogy volt keresztény osztálytársaim tüntetően belém karoltak, hogy ők nem szégyellik, hogy velem végigmennek az utcán. Itt nem volt csillagos ház, hanem májusban csináltak három gettót. Az egyik az Óvoda téren, oda jöttek Rózsiék is, akiknek ki kellett költözniük a lakásból, a másik a Zsidó (Régiposta) utca, a harmadik a Pécskő utcai. Kérdezik mostanában, hogy ugye segítettek a szomszédok, vittek ennivalót. Nem hoztak semmit. Volt egy fűszeres, Simonffy Dénes a Karancs utcában, akinek elég gyengén ment az üzlete. Valahogy engedélyt szerzett arra, hogy a gettóba behozhatott édességet. Bejött két nagy kosárral, telerakva édességgel, és tízszeres áron árulta. Azt a fruttit, ami tíz fillér volt, egy pengő tízért adta. Nem kenyeret hozott, nem vajat vagy zöldborsót, hanem édességet, és eladta tízszeres áron.

Teltek a napjaink az Óvoda téren, és egyik nap az óvodába beszállásolták azt a munkaszolgálatos századot, amelyik előkészítette nekünk a bányaistállót. Megcsinálták a latrinát, telehordták szalmával a fekhelyünket, elvezették a lovakat. A polgári iskolában pedig elkezdett működni a csendőrség. Oda bevitték a város gazdagabb polgárait, hogy mondják meg, hova ásták az aranyukat. Jöttek Rózsiért is. Három vagy négy napig volt bent. Tormás zsákba kötötték a fejét, hogy mondja meg, hol van az aranya. Az utolsó napon azt mondták, hogy addig verik a talpát, amíg meg nem mondja. Például a pásztói Ábrahám Pál terménykereskedőnek úgy verték szét a talpát, hogy hordágyon hozták be az istállóba, mert többet nem tudott lábra állni. Akkor Rózsi elővette a Gyurika képét, és azt mondta, nézze, ez a gyerekem, nincs senkije, mert az apja kint van a fronton. Magának kell majd gondoskodnia róla, hogy ezt a gyereket valaki felnevelje. Nem tudom, hogy ez hatott-e, de visszavehette a cipőjét, és három nap múlva kiengedték. Amikor kijött, azt mondta, hogy Zsuzsi, nekünk végünk van. Én olyanokat tapasztaltam meg a csendőrségen, hogy elképzelni nem lehet. Ezt nem fogjuk túlélni.

Aztán egyik nap, reggel négy órakor ordításra ébredtünk, hogy szedjük össze a holminkat, indulunk a bányaistállóba. Nem szóltak előre, hogy másnap indulunk. Készüljünk össze. Németet itt nem is láttunk, csak csendőrök voltak. Valahonnan hoztak még egy század csendőrt, mert csendőrség volt Salgótarjánban, de az kevés volt. Mire összekészülődtünk, addigra a Gombó-udvar közepén felállítottak egy sátrat, és csak ezen keresztül lehetett kimenni. Ebben a sátorban volt egy szülésznő és karpaszományos egyenruhában Nagy Antal igazgató-tanító, aki negyedik elemiben volt a tanítóm. A szülésznő felnyúlt a nőkbe, hogy nem rejtettek-e el valamit, Nagy Antal pedig megnézte, hogy van-e még rajtunk lánc vagy valami más elveendő. Rajtam volt a karórám, amit a tizenharmadik születésnapomra kaptam. Az nagy kincs volt akkor. Nagy Antal lekapcsolta a kezemről az órát. Zsuzsám, mondta, ezt te nem viheted magaddal, mert erre rendelet van, hogy zsidónak nem lehet órája.

Elindultunk a bányaistálló felé, előttünk három csendőr, utánunk három csendőr. Így vonultunk végig Salgótarján utcáin, aminek eddig polgárai voltunk, ahol éltünk, sétáltunk. Megérkeztünk, bementünk az istállóba, megmutatták, hogy egy lóhelyre hány ember kerül. Amikor jöttek újabb emberek, mert a környező falvakból is mindenkit ide hoztak, a visszacsatolt Felvidékről is, Rimaszombatról, Fülekről, már csak a szárító padláson volt hely, ahova létrán kellett felmászni. Segítettünk nekik, de a padláson koromsötét volt, nem lehetett látni, hova kell lépni. És hőség. Körülnéztünk Márta barátnőmmel, és észrevettük, hogy a padlásablakok be vannak szögezve kátránypapírral. Akkor Mártával kivertük ezeket a kátránypapírokat, amik leestek az utcára. Így lehetett látni, és lett levegő. Ám nemsokára jött föl két csendőr, hogy ki verte ki a kátránypapírt. Mert az utcára nem nézhetünk ki. Jelentkeztünk, hogy mi. Közölték, hogy ezért büntetés jár. Végül a büntetés az lett, hogy amikor a bevagonírozás volt, június tizenharmadikán, nem mehettünk a többiekkel, hanem ki kellett takarítanunk az istállót, és a liszteszsákokat meg mindent, ami ottmaradt, fölrakni a kocsikra.

Két hét múlva elérkezett a bevagonírozás napja, és még emlékeztek arra, hogy mi nem mehetünk. De azért elkísértük a családot a kapuig. A nagyapám szájában ott volt a hosszú pipa. Olyan szenvedélyes pipázó volt, hogy a hosszú pipa, ha égett, ha nem, mindig a szájában volt. A kapunál egy csendőr odajött: Na, te vén zsidó, ez a pipa neked már nem kell. Kikapta a szájából, és a földhöz vágta.

Délután négy óra volt, mire sikerült összetakarítani az istállót, és mi is elindultunk. A vagonsor már állt. A csendőrök egy zsidót jelöltek ki, Grünwald Dezsőt, hogy a rendet fenntartsa, mindenki beszálljon. Közben megérkezett egy hordágyon Lusztig Dezsőné nyolc hónapos terhesen. Lusztig Dezső volt a város orvosa, aki mindig talpon volt, mindennel hozzá mentek. Annyit el tudott intézni, hogy a felesége ne jöjjön be a gettóba, se az istállóba. Betette a bányakórházba, hogy ott majd megszüli a gyereket, és elbujtatják. De valaki följelentette. Anyámék nem szálltak be a vagonba, ameddig ki nem értünk. Megmondta ennek a Grünwald Dezsőnek, hogy csak akkor fog beszállni, ha mi is ott vagyunk. Így mégis egy vagonba kerültünk. Hetvenen voltunk egy vagonban. Az egész város kint volt a bevagonírozásunknál. Egy patak folyik a vasútállomás mellett, és ott állt a város a patak partján, mint egy népünnepélynél, és nézték. Gondolom, már alig várták, hogy elfoglalhassák azt a lakást, amit kinéztek, vagy elvihessék azt a holmit. Senki nem szaladt oda vízzel, nem akart elkapni és hazavinni egy gyereket, nem akartak segíteni, csak néztek. Volt egy ügyvéd, Varga Béla, ott sétált végig a csendőrökkel a vagonok mellett. Olyan szép látvány volt ez az ő szemeinek, hogy nem volt rest otthagyni az irodáját, és itt sétált. Ott volt a vagonban Szalvendi ügyvéd, Gádor ügyvéd, akik a legjobb ügyvédek voltak Salgótarjánban. Neki ettől szebb látvány nem lehetett, látni a nagynevű ügyvédeket, akiket az egész vármegyében ismertek, akikhez képest ő egy nulla volt. Úgyhogy neki ez volt élete legszebb napja, hogy a berácsozott vagonban láthatja Gádor ügyvédet és Szalvendi ügyvédet.

Elindultunk a kisállomásról, és megálltunk a nagyállomáson. Már esteledett. Megszólalt a sziréna, hogy légitámadás. Lekapcsolták a mozdonyt, elvitték, elmentek a csendőrök, bennünket pedig otthagytak a lelakatolt vagonokban. Amikor lefújták a légiriadót, visszajött a mozdony, visszajöttek a csendőreink, és elindultunk. Még az is történt, hogy berakták egy vagonba a munkaszolgálatos századot is, pedig ahhoz semmi közük nem volt, az a honvédséghez tartozott. A századosuk éppen Pesten volt valamiért. Amikor visszaért, és meglátta az üres óvodát, intézkedett, és a vonatunkat megállíttatta Hatvannál. A százados motorbiciklivel rohant a vonat után, és Hatvannál kiszállíttatta a munkaszolgálatosokat. Ha néhány órát késik, akkor már túl vagyunk a határon, és ők is jöttek volna Auschwitzba.

Utólag a könyvtárban próbáltam a „Munka” című [salgó]tarjáni jobboldali újságban kikeresni a mi deportálásunkat. Nem találtam semmit, úgyhogy ennek a lapnak nem volt hírértékű Salgótarján ezerkétszáz polgárának a deportálása.

A vagonokról és erről a háromnapos utazásról már sokan és sokat meséltek, ezt nem részletezem. Még csak annyit, hogy útközben Krakkóban megállt a szerelvényünk, és a szomszéd vágányon egy vagonban lengyel munkások voltak, akik németül átkiabáltak, hogy „Ne menjetek tovább! Szedjétek föl a vagon deszkáit, szökjetek, ahogy tudtok!”.

Megérkezett a vagon délelőtt, a leszállás maga volt a borzalom. A kanadások [lásd: Kanada Auschwitz-Birkenauban], már régóta ott lévő foglyok voltak arra kiképezve, hogy ilyenkor fel kell ugrani a vagonokba, és mindenkitől elvenni, amit lehet, megmondani, hova álljanak. Ezek közben már mondták, hogy a gyereket adjátok a nagymamáknak. A brotzsákokat (kenyérzsák) letépték a nyakunkból. Ebbe otthon anyám belekészített aszpirintól kezdve csokoládéig mindenfélét. Nem hittünk a szemünknek, csak úgy sodródtunk. Minden pillanatok alatt lezajlott, és már ki is volt ürítve a vagonunk. Mondták, hogy a csomagjához senki ne nyúljon, mert ezt kocsi fogja utánunk vinni. Összeverődött a család, fogtuk egymás kezét, hogy el ne kallódjunk a nagy zűrzavarban. Akkor elkezdődött a szelektálás, az is gyorsan ment. Mi, akik együtt akartunk maradni, egy sorban álltunk, mert úgy gondoltuk, hogy a család biztosan együtt maradhat. A szelektálásnál egyedül engem küldtek át a dolgozók csoportjához. Anyu utánam ugrott. Mengele megállította, hogy mi van. Az a lányom, mondta, mert gondolta, hogy ezt biztos akceptálják. Különben tökéletesen beszélt németül. Mengele meghökkent, és megkérdezte, hogy te tudsz dolgozni. Anyám harminckilenc éves volt, jól nézett ki. Hogy én tudok-e dolgozni? Nézze meg a kezem, világéletemben dolgoztam. Erre odalökte anyámat hozzám. Így maradt anyu életben. A többiek, nagyapám, nagyanyám, a nyolc hónapos állapotos Hédi [Burger Lászlóné, szül. Kilovits Hédiről van szó, Weisz Gyula unokahúgáról, vagyis nővérének a lányáról. Férje Rimaszombatból Salgótarjánba települt fogtechnikus volt. – A szerk.], az ő anyósa, és Rózsi a gyerekkel, mindenki ment a gázba. A németek mondták, hogy senki ne akarjon az egyik csoportból a másikba átszaladni, este úgyis mindenki találkozik.

Erről, hogy adjátok a gyerekeket a nagymamának, egy kicsit többet szeretnék beszélni. Három nap után leszálltunk a vagonból. Ez az utazás már szörnyen megviselte a gyerekeket. Víz nélkül, élelem nélkül, a rettenetes szag, a rettenetes hőség. Föl se állhattak, nemhogy játszani nem lehetett, semmit nem lehetett. Ezek a kisgyerekek addig az anyjuk ölében ültek, és most odaadják egy nagymamának, aki nem biztos, hogy olyan közel állt ehhez a gyerekhez. Aztán ezzel a nagymamával még álltak a gázkamra előtt, hogy sorra kerüljenek. A gyerek kibírhatatlan lehetett, az anyja után ordított, a nagymama nem tudta, hogy mit csináljon a gyerekkel. Aztán bementek a gázba, hogy tizenöt perc alatt megfulladjanak. Mesélték, akik azon a lyukon benéztek, hogy mozognak-e még, jöhet-e a következő, hogy azok az anyák, akik nem adták át a gyereküket, úgy fonódtak vele össze, hogy nem tudták szétválasztani őket. Ezek után zsidó heftlingekkel szedették ki őket, és tették a lapátra a krematóriumban. Amióta gyerekeim, unokáim, dédunokáim vannak, elképzelem azokat, akik odaadták a gyereküket a nagymamának, hogyan tudtak tovább élni, és még verekedni a konténernél egy pohár vízért.

A táborban meztelenül sorba kellett állni, mindenkinek lenyírták a haját. Két aufseherin [Aufseherin (német): felvigyázó, őr a lágerban. – A szerk.] és két heftling [Heftling (német): fogoly. – A szerk.]. Előttem volt Bauman Magda, aki szép volt, elegáns, és különlegesen szép haja volt. És akkor a heftling belenyírt a közepébe, ami engem nagyon megrázott. Pedig hát ez semmi volt ahhoz képest, ami később történt. Megérkeztünk a zuhanyozóhelyre, ahol a csapból víz folyt, nem gáz. A fürdés után mindenki kapott valami rongyot. Egy órával ezelőtt még emberi külsőnk volt, most ott álltunk lekopaszítva és rongyokban, és elkezdett esni az eső. Még akkor sem akartuk elhinni, hogy ez megtörténhet. Nemrég még alig vártuk, hogy vége legyen a vagonútnak. Majd dolgozni fogunk, és megoldódik minden. Itt már láttuk, hogy ebből soha nem lesz már semmi, és ez volt a végső megsemmisülésünk. Elindítottak az esőben egy három kilométeres útra, pillanatok alatt hideg lett. Amikor három nappal ezelőtt beszálltunk a vagonba, harminc fok volt. Birkenauba vittek. Ez egy új tábor volt, még nem volt idő mindent befejezni. Ezrével vagy ezerötszázával betereltek a barakkokba, ahol az ablaknak még csak a kerete volt, üveg nélkül, és a hatalmas hodály teljesen üres volt. Mondták, hogy itt töltjük az éjszakát. Ezt úgy lehet elképzelni, mint amikor a barmokat egy akolba behajtják, mert ott semmiféle lefekvési lehetőség nem volt. Mindenki leült, [salgó]tarjániak a [salgó]tarjániakkal, [balassa]gyarmatiak a [balassa]gyarmatiakkal. Gondoltuk, hogy ez csak egy átmeneti dolog. Nem volt átmeneti, ez sosem változott. Én akkor éjszaka belázasodtam. Reggel négy órakor megszólalt a blockältester [Blockältester (német): barakkparancsnok – összekötő a lágerfőnök és a foglyok között, felügyelő a foglyok közül. – A szerk.], a szlovák Babi: „Fölkelni, zahlappel.” És így zajlottak a napjaink, hogy hajnali háromkor vagy négykor ébresztő, és kezdődött a zahlappel [Zahlappel (német): létszámellenőrzés. – A szerk.]. Az volt a legfontosabb, hogy ott egyenes, ötös sor legyen, és állni órákig, amíg meg nem érkezett az az SS-aufseherin, aki ötösével leszámolt minket. Egy idő múlva megérkezett a feketekávé. Mindenkinek volt valami ütött-kopott zománcos fazék, edény, bögre, amit a megérkezéskor vettek el a foglyoktól, ebbe beletöltötték, és az ötös sor első embere ivott, majd hátraadta. Akkor mást nem kaptunk. Ott semmit nem kellett csinálni, csak lézengtünk. A barakkba egész nap nem lehetett bemenni. A borzalmak akkor következtek, amikor elkezdődött a hasmenés, a fölfázásos betegségek. Éjszaka, akinek már ez a szörnyű hasmenése volt, ki se tudott menni a latrináig. Víz nem volt a B lágerben, ahol voltunk, mert oda még nem vezették be. Ezres tömegek víz nélkül. Mosakodási lehetőség az volt, hogy közvetlenül mellettünk volt egy mocsár. Időnként a blokova adott egy pléhvödröt az ötös sorban az elsőnek, és ő lemehetett a mocsárba, és hozhatott egy vödör zavaros vizet, és abban kezdődött a mosakodás. A sor végigmosakodott felül, utána alul. De nem minden nap, hanem alkalomszerűen, hogy el ne fogyjon a mocsár. Iváshoz minden második nap egy lajtos kocsi hozott vizet, amit kiengedett egy óriási rozsdás konténerbe. Azt megrohanták az emberek, mert két nap után már borzalmas volt a szomjúság. Óriási verekedések, lökdösődés. Ez is volt egy kis elfoglaltság. Különben egész nap csináltuk a semmit. Auschwitz elmondhatatlan. Érezni kellene a szagát, a klórt, a krematórium füstjének a szagát, a latrinát, ez úgy gomolygott.

Babi, a blokova már két éve volt ott. Volt egy szobája a barakk végében, és volt ágya. Ő intézte a mi életünket. Ő sípolt reggel, ő csattogtatta az ostorát, ő intézte az appeleket, a kávé kiosztását, a dörgemüze kiosztását. Ezt ugyanúgy ettük, ahogy a kávét ittuk az ötös sorokban. Időnként az orrunk alá dörgölte, hogy mi még a Váci utcában sétáltunk, amikor ők, szlovák zsidók már itt voltak [1942 tavaszán érkeztek meg Auschwitzba az első zsidó nők, 16–30 év közötti lányok és asszonyok Kelet-Szlovákiából. – A szerk.]. Nézzétek a kéményeket, anyátok és gyerekeitek már elszálltak. Ha túl akarjátok élni, egyetek meg mindent. Ez a Babi annyi keserűséget okozott nekünk. Pofozkodott, az ötös sornak szépen kellett állni. Nem is volt már ember két év Auschwitz után. Nem is lehet rajta csodálkozni. Anyám úgy gondolta, hogy valahogy a kegyeibe kerül ennek a Babinak, és felajánlotta, hogy montíroz neki egy párnát. Babi adott neki két selyem hálóinget, és abból csinált egy ilyen rolni párnát. Elkészült a rolni párna, Babi dicsérte anyámat, hogy „acene, goldene hand” (neked arany kezed van), mert ez a Babi jiddisül beszélt, és adott anyunak két szelet margarinos kenyeret, és megkapta a bádogvödröt, hogy lemehet vízért a mocsárhoz, és abban egyedül megmosakodhat. Elindult a vízért, közben elkezdett esni, és ha esett, akkor csúszott ez az agyagos talaj. Már majdnem visszaért a vízzel, amikor elcsúszott, és kiömlött a víz. Még egyszer nem engedte le.

Valika barátnőm bekerült ápolónőnek a kórháznak nevezett barakkba. Ott volt, amikor behozták Böhm Arankát, Karinthy Frigyes feleségét. Ő már őrült volt, és egyenesen ide hozták. Valika mesélte, hogy állandóan csak azt hajtogatta, hogy ő Karinthyné, a nagy író özvegye. És egyszer csak megjelent Mengele, aki Arankának évfolyamtársa volt Bécsben, az egyetemen. Ismerték egymást személyesen. Aranka nekiesett Mengelének, megpofozta, szörnyű jelenet volt. Mengele gúnyos mosollyal és elégtétellel nézte, hogy a gyönyörű Böhm Aranka itt vergődik előtte. Még aznap elvitette őt a gázba.

Birkenauban, ami egy női láger volt, férfi csoportok csak akkor jöttek át, ha valamit csinálni kellett. Egy nap átjött egy húszfős csoport, a latrinát üríteni. Tőlük tudtuk meg, hogy a táborukban volt egy felszólítás, hogy az orvosok álljanak ki. Minden orvos kiállt, kaptak egy rudat a két végén vödörrel, és ők jöttek át a latrinát kipucolni. Ehhez kellett az orvosi diploma.

Sokszor szelektáltak, szinte másnaponként, és sokáig nem sikerült bekerülnünk a munkára kiválogatott csoportba. Ez a szelektálás borzalmas volt. Azt jelentette, hogy meztelenül körbe-körbe kellett járni, és pálcával rámutattak, hogy ez ide, az oda. Volt egy olyan betegség, hogy a vitaminhiánytól elkezdett az emberek szája megdagadni, és kirepedt. Erre valami fehér kenőcsöt adtak. Az ilyen szájúakat másnap rögtön kiszelektálták a gázba.

Augusztus végén aztán sikerült bekerülnünk a munkába menők közé. Átvittek az A lágerbe. Ott már volt víz, nem a földön aludtak, hanem priccsen. Bevittek egy zuhanyozóba, és kaptunk világos szürke zsávoly ruhát és facipőt. Aztán kivittek a sínek mellé, és ott kellett várni. Közben kaptunk ebédet, tejbegrízt. Közben beesteledett, eltelt az éjszaka, és másnap reggel lettünk bevagonírozva. Az út másfél napig tartott, közben se enni, se inni nem adtak. Megérkeztünk Ravensbrückbe, ami egy elosztó láger volt. A láger tömve volt, a barakkokba már senkit nem tudtak elhelyezni, ezért ilyen kör alakú sátrakat állítottak föl, de ott sem volt hely. Két napig álltunk a ravensbrücki kapu előtt, ahol a föld fekete szénporral volt felszórva. Estére már nem bírtuk, leültünk, és ott aludtuk végig az éjszakát ebben a szénporban. Az arcunktól a lábujjunkig és a szép új ruhánk fekete lett. Másnap délelőtt bementünk, a zuhanyozóba kerültünk, megmosakodhattunk meleg vízzel. Könnyen moshattuk a fejünket is, mert kopaszok voltunk. Bekerültünk egy barakkba, ahol négyemeletes priccsek voltak. Végre priccsen aludtunk, nem a földön. Itt töltöttünk tíz napot, amíg ki nem igényeltek minket dolgozni. Ez a barakk, ami nekünk első pillanatra a mennyország volt, úgy volt tele bolhával, hogy söpörni lehetett az ágyról. Majd megettek a férgek minket. Az appelek között kóvályogtunk, nézelődtünk. Mindenféle náció volt, franciák, belgák. Megismerkedtünk egy francia kislánnyal, aki konzervatóriumba járt, és amikor megtudta, hogy magyar vagyok, elfütyülte nekem a Liszt rapszódiát. Ott is le kellett vetkőzni, körbejárni, kaptunk valami injekciókat, nem tudom, milyet. Pár nap múlva kikerültünk a barakkból egy sátorba, ott megint a földön aludtunk. Egyik reggel jött a hír, hogy ez a sátor elindul, megyünk a vasúti sínekhez. Négyszázunkat odavittek, és ott vártunk a vagonra. Közben névsorolvasás volt. Nekünk anyuval az volt a problémánk, hogy amikor Auschwitzból eljöttünk, az első százat pont ott vágták le, ahol Ungerleider Zsuzsi végződött. Így más vagonba kerültünk volna. Anyu mellett ott kesergett valaki, akit így a testvérétől választottak el. Gyorsan nevet cseréltünk, én Weintraub Kató lettem, ő pedig lett Ungerleider Zsuzsi. Ez elég sok bonyodalmat okozott, mert sokáig nem hallgattam a Weintraub Kató névre. Végre megjött a vagonunk, és elvittek a Siemens gyárba. Akkor is vagy két napig mentünk a vagonnal, és megérkeztünk Neustadt bei Coburgba [Neustadt bei Coburg – Észak-Bajorországban van, a buchenwaldi koncentrációs tábor egyik altábora volt itt, ahol a Kabel- und Leitungswerke AG-nál dolgoztatták a foglyokat. – A szerk.], pontosabban a városon kívül volt felépítve egy barakktábor, a gyár mellett. Attól kezdve emberi életünk volt. Egy szobában harminchárman voltunk, kétemeletes priccsek voltak. Volt egy kályha, és volt három vízcsap, és egyszer egy héten lehetett a zuhanyozóba menni. Kaptunk overált, már kezdett emberi formánk lenni. Két műszakban jártunk a gyárba, reggel hattól este hatig vagy este hattól reggel hatig. Ez egy kábelgyár volt, nekem az volt a munkám, hogy a hibás kábeleket javítottam. Az eltört vagy kilyukadt gumírozást forrasztottam be. Ha reggel hatra mentünk, akkor öt órakor volt ébresztő, aztán zahlappel, aztán a konyhában megkaptuk a teánkat és indulás. Napról napra egyre jobban mentünk tönkre, mert alig ettünk, de dolgoztunk. Az éjszakai műszak borzalmas volt. Akkor nappal aludhattunk. Mi anyámmal egymással szemben dolgoztunk, és egyszer elaludt. Én nem is vettem észre. Jött az aufseherin, és egy hatalmas pofonnal ébresztette föl szegény anyámat.

1944 szeptemberétől 1945. április tizenhatodikáig dolgoztunk a Siemens gyárban. Akkor evakuálták a tábort. Gyalogmenetben indultunk. Két hétig mentünk, aztán valahol útközben felszabadultunk. Négyszázan voltunk, és három vagy négy SS-katona és négy aufseherin kísért minket. Mindig ott szálltunk meg, ahol ránk esteledett, vagy erdőben, vagy pajtában. Hideg április volt. Étel nem volt, amit találtunk, marharépát a földeken vagy bármit, azt ettük. Ha beértünk egy faluba, beszöktünk a házakba, és ami ott volt, azt elvettük. Anyu beugrott az egyik házba, a konyhában egy gyerek ült, és krumplit hámozott. Senki más nem volt a konyhában. Anyu fogta a fazekat a krumplival, és kihozta. Már negyedik napja mentünk, épp egy pajtában aludtunk, amikor másnap reggel anyu nem tudott lábra állni. Az a lehetőség volt, hogy félreülhetett, de akkor agyonlövik. Majdnem egy napig vittem anyut a hátamon. A fogolytársaim segítettek, amennyit tudtak. Az SS-ek elnézték, hogy így visszük anyut. Egy évvel azelőtt még nem nézték volna el. Este megint pajtában aludtunk, és másnap reggel anyu lábra tudott állni.

Amikor jöttek a repülők mélyrepülésben, akkor be kellett rohanni az erdőbe. Az egyik ilyen alkalommal hárman, a rimaszombati barátnő, anyu és én az erdőben maradtunk. Úgy határoztunk, hogy nem megyünk tovább a menettel. Majdnem egy napot mentünk az erdőben, amikor egy országúthoz értünk. Elindultunk rajta kopaszon, facipőben, éhségtől kóvályogva, egyszer csak egy úttorlaszhoz értünk, mögötte négy SS-katona. Már nem tűnhettünk el. Mit csináljunk? Eddig mindent megtettünk, hogy életben maradjunk, itt már nincs mit tenni. Odaértünk, és megszólalt az anyám németül: „Mondja meg, legyen olyan kedves, hogy itt átmehetünk, vagy lemenjünk az árokba, és úgy kerüljük meg?” Az SS-ek nem hittek a fülüknek, és meglepetésükben azt mondták, hogy kerüljük meg, és úgy menjünk tovább. Bementünk a faluba, bementünk a bürgermeisterhez [Bürgermeister (német): polgármester. – A szerk.], hogy adjon valami szállást. Egy parasztcsaládhoz küldött, és ott beköltöztünk az istállóba. Négy vagy öt napja voltunk ott, amikor megérkeztek az amerikaiak. Lobogott a falu a békétől és a fehér zászlótól. Minket bevittek az iskolába, a tornaterembe. A faluban több ilyen hozzánk hasonló menekült volt. Enni adtak, konzerveket adtak. Nem tudtuk, hogy mit kezdjünk magunkkal. Csak azt tudtuk, hogy vágytunk haza. Mi, ezek az idegenszívűek, tele voltunk a haza iránti sóvárgással.

Az amerikaiak mondták, hogy ne menjünk vissza, és elmondták a lehetőségeinket, hogy Amerikától kezdve a világ bármelyik részébe mehetünk. Aki nem akar maradni, az átmegy a demarkációs vonalon, átveszik az oroszok, és ők intézik a továbbiakban a sorsunkat. Ez óriási kérdőjel volt, hogy hazajönni vagy menni, ahova akarunk. Anyám azt mondta, hogy először hazajövünk, megnézzük, hogy ki maradt meg. Nem lehet így elmenni a világba, hogy haza ne jöjjünk. Megcsináltuk életünk nagy marhaságát. Elindultunk. Mentünk néhány kilométert, ott volt egy sorompó, ahol két orosz katona álldogált. Akkor hallottuk először, hogy davaj. Összegyűlt ott pár száz zsidó nő. Nem volt teherautó, nem szállítottak, nem gondoskodtak rólunk. Csak egy transzport voltunk, akik nekik csak gond. Az első este elérkeztünk egy legelőig, és mondták, hogy itt kell töltenünk az éjszakát. Ezt már megszoktuk, de legalább volt egy pokrócunk. Ez a rét egy orosz kaszárnya mellett volt, onnan portyáztak a környékre, és élték a felszabadító hadsereg életét. Ez az éjszaka felért Auschwitzcal. Jöttek a katonák részegen, fölemelték a nőket, nézték, hogy mamuska vagy nem mamuska, és aki megtetszett, azt vitték be a kaszárnyába. Ezeket a kiszolgáltatott, agyongyötört, Auschwitzot megjárt lányokat. Anyu becsomagolt egy pokrócba, és három öregasszony rám ült. Ők voltak az öregasszonyok, akikhez már nem nyúltak. Mellettem volt szegény Widder Anikó, aki egyedül volt. Amikor felkapta a katona, elájult. A katona azt hitte, hogy meghalt, a földhöz vágta, és továbbment. Így úszta meg Anikó. Reggel kezdtek visszaszivárogni ezek a szerencsétlen vérző nők. Anyám azt mondta, na gyerünk, lányom, induljunk ketten. Bementünk abba a városba, Tausba [?], ami ott volt. Kóvályogtunk az üres utcákon, és kiértünk a pályaudvarra. Ott már tudták az emberek, hogy mi történt a réten. Ránk néztek, és rögtön tudták, hogy kik vagyunk. Segítettek a vonatra szállni.

Megérkeztünk Prágába. Prágában minden vonatot vártak az állomáson fiatalok, egyetemisták. Megterített asztalokkal és mindenféle földi jóval, ami akkor kapható volt. Lehetett kezet mosni és enni. Meg volt szervezve, hogy tíz embert visznek ide, tíz embert oda. Mi egy olyan csoportba kerültünk, akiket fölvittek a Hradzsinba, egy olyan épületbe, ami arra volt berendezve, hogy fogadják a heftlingeket. Két hétig karanténban, megfigyelés alatt voltunk, és ez alatt az idő alatt tejben-vajban fürösztöttek. Ott lettünk újra emberek. Egyik nap jött valaki összeírni, hogy ki akar Svédországba menni. Anyu megint úgy határozott, hogy előbb hazamegyünk.

Vonatra ültünk, és elmentünk Pozsonyba. Ott megint vártak, szállodába vittek, körülszerettek minket. Pár nap múlva indultunk Budapestre. Megérkeztünk 1945 júniusában. Az út két napig tartott, se vizünk, se élelmünk nem volt. Pest úgy várt minket, hogy egy vödör vízből száz pengőért kaphattunk egy bögre vizet. Senki nem várt minket. Megjöttetek? Minek jöttetek? Ezt éreztük. Valami végtelen szomorúság ült a lelkünkre. Aztán valahonnan előkerült valaki a DEGOB-tól, és az elvitt minket a Bethlen térre. Ott megint sorba álltunk, de semmi nem volt megszervezve. Összetalálkoztunk egy [salgó]tarjáni ismerősünkkel, aki Pesten lakott, és ő elvitt magához. Egy háromszobás lakása volt, és az a három szoba tele volt már visszaérkezett [salgó]tarjáni foglyokkal. Négy vagy öt nap múlva elindultunk Salgótarjánba, és megérkeztünk június tizenötödikén. Többen mentünk, anyu, Gottlieb Ili barátnőm, akivel Pozsonyban találkoztunk össze, és még három-négy lány. Nem várt minket senki, se vízzel, se ebéddel. Elmentünk az Óvoda téri lakásunkba, ami természetesen el volt foglalva. Elmentünk a Rózsi lakásához, amit már elfoglalt doktor Filarszky Nándor orr-fül-gégész, aki mellettük lakott, és áttörette a két lakás közti falat, egyesítette a két lakást, így lett neki egy hatszobás lakása. Egy magyar orvost ez megillet. Anyu fölment, és mondta Filarszkynak, hogy mi itt fogunk aludni, legyen szíves, menjen vissza a lakásába. Átadta és beköltöztünk.

Kezdtek hazaszállingózni azok a gyerekek, akiknek senkijük a világon nem maradt, se anyjuk, se apjuk, se testvérük. Anyám úgy határozott, hogy mindenki nálunk fog lakni, amíg rendezi a sorait. Így beköltözött hozzánk vagy tíz-tizenkét ember. A városnak eszébe sem jutott, hogy rendezze a mi életünket. Egy gesztus, hogy itt ehettek. Hogy a csontsovány gyerekeket valahol nyaraltassák. Szinte tudomást sem vettek rólunk. Akkor vettek tudomást, ha ment valaki, hogy szeretné visszavinni az asztalát. Én ezeket a cirkuszokat, hogy visszakérni a dolgainkat, rettenetesen utáltam. Különben nem úgy tudtuk meg, hogy mi hol van, hogy elkezdtük járni a házakat. A szomszédasszony jött el mindig megmondani, hogy ki vitte el a szekrényünket, kinél van a konyhabútorunk. Ennek kapcsán jut eszembe Aczél György, akit Rákosi Sátoraljaújhelyre küldött ki, mert nagy volt az antiszemitizmus, amit az váltott ki, hogy szerettek volna bemenni a lakásukba. És akkor Aczél György azt tanácsolta, hogy ne kérjétek vissza a hokedlit, és akkor nem lesz antiszemitizmus. Így megoldotta a problémát. A barátunk, Hoffmann doktor egy nagyon okos ember volt. Neki is megmondták, hogy kinél vannak a dolgai. Hoffmann Bandi odament, és a bölcs nyugalmával elkezdte sorolni, hogy mit kér. Az ember mondta, hogy igen, de mindent elvittek az oroszok. Erre Bandi papírt és tollat vett elő. Tessék megmondani, hogy ez hányadikán volt, és ki volt az oroszok parancsnoka. Erre az ember megijedt, és mindent visszaadott.

Hogy abban az időben mit ettünk, miből főztünk, azt nem tudom. Egy idő múlva anyu nyitott a Rózsi üzletében egy vegyeskereskedést. Volt ott légyfogótól kezdve méteráruig minden. Áruért Pestre járt. De hogy miből utazott, és miből vett árut, azt nem tudom. Én hosszú ideig semmit nem csináltam, és nem is akartam csinálni semmit. Nekem csak az volt a fontos, hogy megfürödhessek, egyedül lehessek, és jól lakhassak, és kimehessek a Kálváriára, hogy szabadon sétálhassak bárhol, hogy találkozhassak azokkal az emberekkel, akik minket tönkretettek, akiknek megmutathattam, hogy mégsem sikerült, amit szerettetek volna. Gajdos századossal akartam találkozni az utcán, és most már nem parancsolhat le a járdáról. Sikerültek ilyen találkozások, de nem volt olyan nagy élmény, mint amilyennek elgondoltam Auschwitzban, a latrinán görnyedve.

Találkoztam Partényi Mandival, aki a legjobb barátnőm volt. Az történt, hogy Rózsi odaadta az anyukájának, Ili néninek a gyűrűjét és a hozzávaló aranyórát, amit Gyulától kapott. Értékes darab volt mind a kettő. Amikor megjöttünk, Ili néni egy kicsit zavarban volt. Elmesélte, hogy a vejükkel, aki bányamérnök volt, elmentek Nyugatra, és ott valami bányavárosban élték át a háború befejezését, majd hazajöttek az időközben megvett gyönyörű salgótarjáni villájukba. Mi vártuk anyuval, hogy visszaadja a gyűrűt és az aranyórát, de elmondta, hogy elvették tőle az oroszok. Mi tudtuk, hogy ez nem igaz, és ez rányomta a bélyegét a kapcsolatunkra. Azt sem kérdezte, hogy mi történt velem, én pedig magamtól nem mondtam. Azt sem kérdezte, hogy mi történt Gyurikával, akit imádott, mindig azon veszekedtünk, hogy ki sétáltassa.

Amikor például elmentem anyuval a szobabútorunkért, akkor a háziak elmesélték, hogy vitték el az utolsó disznójukat, hogy mit műveltek az oroszok, hogy ők mennyit szenvedtek. Hát én meg nem akartam elmesélni Auschwitzot. Mi nem idegenszívűek, hanem kihűlt szívűek lettünk.

Százhúszan jöttünk vissza Salgótarjánba az ezerkétszázból. Amikor már huszonhárman visszaérkeztek, úgy határoztunk, hogy elmegyünk a templomba, és ott képletesen süvet fogunk ülni a halottakért. Egyórás süvet ültünk, és mindenki zokogott.

Ez után a rossz kezdés után sem merült fel: jó, „először hazajöttünk”, megnéztük, de most el innen! Nem tudom, hogy miért maradtunk. Pedig akkor már a cionisták szervezték a fiatalokat. Salgótarjánba is jött egy sliách, aki 1946 tavaszán fölvitt Pestre fiatalokat, akiknek csináltak valami képzést, háromhetes bentlakásos kurzust [lásd: cionizmus 1945 után Magyarországon]. Az első nyaralásom is egy ilyen cionista nyaraltatás volt. Akkor voltam életemben először a Balatonon, és akkor tanultam meg úszni. Egy sátortábort csináltak Felsőörsön. Csodálatos két hét volt. Volt velünk egy sliách, Gideon, aki Palesztinából jött, és megpróbált életet verni belénk.

A férjemmel, Stein Andorral Salgótarjánban ismerkedtem meg. Bandi eredetileg balassagyarmati, ott is járt gimnáziumba, de érettségizni már csak 1945 után érettségizett. Ugyanis az édesapja, aki bőrkereskedő volt, tönkrement, és felköltöztek Újpestre, ahol az édesapja tímár lett a Wolfner bőrgyárban [lásd: bőrgyárak Újpesten], ő pedig nem folytatta a gimnáziumot, hanem az Egyesült Izzóban dolgozott, a laboratóriumban. Ezenkívül vízilabdázott az UTE-ban [UTE – Újpesti Torna Egylet, 1885-ben alakult sportegyesület. A klub fölfejlesztésében jelentős szerepe volt Aschner Lipótnak (1872–1952), aki az Egyesült Izzólámpa és Villamossági RT vezérigazgatójaként jelentős sportmecénási tevékenységet fejtett ki a 20. század húszas-harmincas éveiben. – A szerk.]. A nővére szintén az Egyesült Izzóba került, az anyukája pedig otthon vállalt igazító varrásokat. A szülei és a nővére a három gyerekével Auschwitzban végezte.

Bandit 1941-ben vagy 1942-ben behívták katonának, de gyorsan átminősült munkaszolgálatosnak. Az erdélyi Turjaremetén [Ung vm.-ben lévő kisközség volt. – A szerk.] volt, ahol utat építettek, egy borzalmas században. Két bajtársát, akik meg akartak szökni, úgy végeztek ki, hogy a századnak körbe kellett állnia az akasztófát. Turjaremetéről Vácra került, ott nem tudom, mit csináltak. Valamikor 1944 végén félig vonaton, félig gyalog Mauthausenbe hajtották őket, ahol a Zeltlagerbe került. Három-négy óriási sátor volt, egy-egy sátorban több ezer ember. Innen 1945. február végén gyalog Günskirchenbe hajtották őket. Útközben a kísérő SS-ek a fáradtságtól leállókat azonnal fejbe lőtték. Günskirchenben félig kész, ajtó, ablak és padló nélküli barakkokba zsúfolták őket, ahol még leülni sem lehetett. Naponta több százan haltak meg, nem győzték temetni. Az élők egyetlen feladata az volt, hogy állandóan tömegsírokat ástak, és temették a halottakat. 1945. május ötödikén az amerikaiak felszabadították a tábort. Másnap útra kelt, és négy nap múlva egy Wels környéki tanyáról eszméletlen állapotban, negyvenfokos lázzal, flekktífusszal beszállították a welsi kórházba [A flekktífusz vagy kiütéses tífusz – magas lázzal és fejfájással járó fertőző betegség, főleg a ruhatetvek terjesztik. – A szerk.]. Innen körülbelül hat hét múlva a welsi alpenjäger laktanyába került, ahol az amerikaiak menekülttábort rendeztek be. 1945. június végén részben gyalog, részben vonaton elindult haza. Megérkezett Újpestre. Apját elvitték, nővérét a három gyerekével elvitték, anyját elvitték. Élt Pesten egy nagybátyja, egy Schirmann nevű ügyes üzletember, aki azzal foglalkozott, hogy a Salgótarján környékén kitermelt tűzifát fogadta Vizafogón, és eladta a kiskereskedőknek. Bandi megkereste a nagybátyját, anyja testvérét, hogy mit csináljon. Nem volt túl kedves ember, mindig távol tartotta magát a családtól, nem rajongott azért, hogy Bandi nála kezdje az életét. De eszébe jutott, hogy Bandi nem nála fogja kezdeni, hanem állást kínált neki Salgótarjánban, ennél a fakitermelő cégnél. Így Bandi lekerült [Salgó]Tarjánba, így ismerkedtünk meg. Aztán nagyon gyorsan úgy határoztunk, hogy összeházasodunk, és 1946 karácsonyán össze is házasodtunk.

1947-ben másodszor is voltam a Balatonon. A salgótarjáni Sauer patikusnak volt egy villája Balatonalmádiban, a Lilóka-lak, a lányuk, Lili után elnevezve. Lili felajánlotta nekünk, hogy menjünk le, a villában senki sincs, nem is látták még, hogy néz ki a háború után, és ott nyaralhatunk. Elfogadtuk, de úgy gondoltuk, hogy ebben a jóban a többieknek is részt kell venniük. Lementünk, borzalmas állapotokat találtunk. Lejött még négy vagy öt barátnőm, ki férjjel, ki baráttal, és ott töltöttünk három hetet. Közben lelátogattak [salgó]tarjáni barátaink is. Ez alatt a nyaralásunk alatt történt, hogy elmentünk ebédelni egy már működő étterembe. Megterít a pincér, és az evőeszközökön horogkereszt volt. Látom, hogy Schweitzer Márta barátnőmet elönti a méreg, odahívja a pincért, összekapja az abroszt, és hátradobja az egészet. Néz rá a pincér, mire Márta azt mondja: „Tudja, uram, mi zsidók vagyunk, az egyetlen keresztény közöttünk Gross úr, és mi nem tudunk enni horogkeresztes evőeszközzel.” Gross úr akkor már Gáti úr volt, de visszazsidósodott, mert csak közöttünk érezte jól magát.

Anyuékkal együtt laktunk a volt Rózsi-féle lakásban, de addigra már az idegenek szétszéledtek. Négyen voltunk, mert 1946 közepén anyu és Antal bácsi is összeesküdtek. Bandi a fakereskedésben dolgozott, én anyuéknak segítettem, jártam föl Pestre áruért. Előző este el kellett indulni, Hatvanban kiszállni, és ott aludni. Már voltak szálláshelyek, amelyek fogadták a kereskedőket, akik Pestre indultak föl. Hajnalban kelni, mert akkor indult Pestre a vonat. Ott bevásárolni, és este ugyanígy két nap alatt hazaérni.

Egy idő múlva úgy határoztam, hogy ezt nem akarom tovább csinálni. Nem bírtam az alkalmazotti létet, és azt akartam, hogy Bandi se legyen tovább alkalmazott. Úgy határoztunk, hogy kiváltjuk a tűzifaszállításra a papírt. Elkezdtünk kijárni Mátranovákra, megvettük a tűzifát az erdőtulajdonosoktól. Egy héten egy vagont tudtunk Pestre küldeni, és ebből már megéltünk. Bandi volt a kitermelésnél, én pedig ültem az állomáson, fogadtam a szekereket, amik hozták a fát. Ott lemértem, kifizettem, és fel a vagonra. A fakereskedés Bandi nevén ment, papíron én továbbra is anyuék boltjában voltam. Persze azért áruért továbbra is én mentem föl Pestre, mert nem kellett állandóan az állomáson ülnöm, csak amikor hozták a szekeresek a fát. Ez aztán 1949-ben megszűnt, nem engedték tovább, elvették az iparunkat. Anyu üzletét is államosították, még leltárt is csináltak [lásd: államosítás Magyarországon]. Azóta sem értem, hogy ezek a leltárok hova lettek, és ki adja vissza az elvett áru értékét. Anyu akkor boltvezető-helyettes lett egy ruhaüzletben. Ezt csinálta nyugdíjaskoráig.

Anyu és Antal bácsi belépett a pártba, mi nem. [Salgó]Tarján kis Moszkva lett. Előtte pedig [Salgó]Tarján a legnagyobb nyilas fészek volt. Mi pedig mindenkit ismertünk, aki decemberben lefeküdt nyilasként, és januárban fölébredt kommunistaként. Én úgy gondoltam, hogy nem leszek egy pártban ezekkel. Nem is lettem.

Bandi elhelyezkedett a Bányaépítő Vállalatnál, ami később Nógrád Megyei Magasépítőipari Vállalat lett. Először a számlázásra került, aztán szállítási osztályvezető lett, aztán anyagosztály-vezető. Közben elvégezte a Számviteli Főiskolát. Nagyon jó szeme volt, precíz volt. Ha már két napja kerestek a könyvelésen négy fillért, akkor Bandi bement, és megmutatta, hol a négy fillér. Osztályvezetőként ment rokkantnyugdíjba, ötvenkilenc éves korában.

Én a Rózsi és Gyula régi üzletében megnyitott nagy Röltexben kezdtem dolgozni. Mind a ketten „Kiváló dolgozó”-k voltunk, kaptunk plecsniket. De nem sokáig csináltam, nem bírtam a kötöttséget, Rózsi belém nevelte, hogy sose légy alkalmazott. És akkor 1954-ben önállósodtam a kötödémmel. Kiváltottam az ipart, háziiparra, amit csak kézzel csinálhatok. A kötőgépem nem működhetett motorral. Ellenőrizték is, hogy tényleg olyan gépem van-e. Ez sok hátránnyal járt, mert a gyerekeim miattam voltak „egyéb” származásúak [A háború után is létezett a származás szerinti diszkrimináció jelensége. A felsőoktatásban az MSZMP KB Politikai Bizottságának egy 1963. április 2-án kelt határozata szüntette meg. Egyébként – ha hivatalosan nem is – de informálisan működött a (munkás, paraszt, értelmiségi, egyéb) származás szerinti kategorizáció a középiskolák esetében is (a középiskolai tanári naplóban számon is tartották). Sok más között az „egyéb” származás is (ide sorolták többek között a kereskedő szülők gyermekeit vagy például a háború előtt magántisztviselő szülők gyermekeit is) továbbtanulást vagy a kívánt irányban/intézményben továbbtanulást nehezítő vagy megakadályozó tényező volt. Lásd még: osztályidegen. – A szerk.]. De megteremtettünk mindent a gyermekeinknek, azt, amire mi csak vágytunk. Diplomát kell szerezni, nyelveket kell tudni. És ezt a gyerekeinknél meg is csináltuk. Gyuri elvégezte a fogorvosit, Ági elvégezte a bölcsészkart és az ő családjában is mindenki diplomás lett.

Egyszer, még 1955-ben felhívattak minket az ÁVO-ra [lásd: ÁVH]. Kérdezték, hogy milyen összejövetel volt nálunk tegnap este, mert minden csillár égett. Szemben volt velünk a szakszervezet székháza, és onnan feljelentettek. Ez úgy bennem maradt, hogy azóta is előbb leengedem a redőnyt, mielőtt meggyújtom a csillárt. De túléltük, nem kerültünk börtönbe, és remek polgárokat neveltünk. De hallom, mostanában megint túlsúlyban vagyunk.

1971-ig laktunk a Rózsi-féle lakásban, és akkor városrendezés címén lebontották. Építettek a helyébe egy Otthon Áruházat. Anyu és Antal bácsi már 1957-ben elköltözött, amikor Gyurika megszületett. Amíg együtt laktunk, nem voltak cirkuszok, de én Antal bácsit nem szerettem. Ő se bírta nekem megbocsátani, hogy visszajöttem, az ő három lánya meg elpusztult. Szóval, amikor már túl sokan lettünk, akkor ők vettek egy két és félszobás szövetkezeti lakást. Mi a szanáláskor a centrumban egy panelházban kaptunk egy másfél szobás lakást. Az volt a szerencse, hogy Ági már Pesten járt egyetemre, és csak hárman voltunk.

Szóval 1953-ban kötős lettem, főleg pulóvereket kötöttem, méretre, megrendelésre. Tehát nem kereskedőnek adtam át, hanem annak, aki majd hordta. Hoztak anyagot, és én méretre megkötöttem. A Rózsi-féle lakásban a konyhából nyílt egy cselédszoba, az lett a műhely. A konyhában vettem méretet, és ott próbáltunk. A kötést attól tanultam meg, akitől a gépet vettem. Bandi egyik kollégájának volt a felesége. De nem sokáig dolgoztam ezen a gépen, mert tudtuk, hogy van olyan, hogy síkkötőgép, és az kellene, mert azon lehet rendes dolgokat csinálni. Körülbelül másfél év múlva, 1955 végén vettünk egy síkkötőgépet. Az is kézzel ment, mert nekem háziiparra szólt az engedélyem. Használtan vettük Pesten, és részletre fizettük. Már nem emlékszem, hol ismerkedtünk meg ezzel a kötőssel, akitől vettük, lejött Salgótarjánba, és egy nap alatt megmutatta, hogy kell rajta kötni. Bandi előbb tudta, mint én, nekem már ő tanította meg.

Akkortól kezdve nem csak méretre, rendelésre dolgoztam. A barátnőm, Cilike is ugyanúgy kiváltotta az ipart, és elkezdett dolgozni, azzal a különbséggel, hogy ő árusította is. Kevesebbet kötött, és inkább kijárt a heti piacokra, és átvette az én árumat is. Ez egy nyolcas síkkötőgép volt, ami vastagabb árut tudott kötni, és tudtuk, hogy szükségünk volna egy tízes gépre is, hogy igazán szépet tudjunk kötni. Körülbelül tíz év múlva kimentünk Nürnbergbe, egy Krautheim nevű kereskedőhöz, aki használt gépeket árult. Ott már minden motorizált és lyukkártyás volt, ezt a gépet kinőtték. Ennek a Krautheimnek a nevét és címét olyasvalakitől tudtuk meg, aki már vett tőle gépet. Nem emlékszem már arra, hogy mennyibe került, de biztosan nem hetven dollárba [Szegő Andorné arra utal, hogy az 1972-ben bevezetett, egyéni utazáshoz használható turistaútlevélhez a Magyar Nemzeti Bank az éves turista-ellátmányi valutakeretből – az IBUSZ adminisztratív közreműködésével – három évenként 70 dollárt biztosított. Lásd: kék útlevél. – A szerk.]. Ott ki kellett fizetni, és ő feladta. Itt meg vámot kellett érte fizetni, bár hivatalosan ez ajándék volt. Szerencsénk volt, elnézték, és nem kérdezték, hogy ki és miért ajándékoz nekem egy gépet. És akkor nagyon nekiálltunk dolgozni, Bandi is minden szabadidejében ezt csinálta.

Én már nem jártam semmilyen további iskolába, amit magamba szívtam, azt autodidakta úton. Az igényem megvolt, ez már megalapozódott kislány koromban. Például Karsai Elek, aki hetente lejárt Salgótarjánba és művelődéstörténeti előadásokat tartott. Azon mind ott voltunk. És ott nagyon jó társaság jött össze. Később is, a háború után olyan társaságunk volt, hogy minden megjelent könyvet megvettünk, elolvastunk és megbeszéltünk. Színházba feljártunk Pestre. Az anyám barátnője, Koltai Rózsi a Madách Kamara Színház pénztárosa volt. Csak föl kellett neki telefonálnunk, és volt jegyünk. Nem ingyenjegy, de például a „Hamlet”-re nehéz volt szerezni. A fölmenetelt mindig összekötöttük Ili barátnőm férjének vagy az én férjemnek valamilyen hivatalos útjával, úgyhogy csak a színházjegy meg az én útiköltségem került pénzbe. Akkor még együtt laktunk anyuval, a gyerekeket rá lehetett hagyni. Salgótarjánban részt vettünk minden művelődési ankéton. Nagyon akartunk tudni.

A tízes gép már nem fért el a lakásban, úgyhogy azt anyuék lakásának a félszobájában helyeztük el. Bandi kötött a tízes gépen, én a nyolcason. Aztán Bandi 1980-ban rokkantnyugdíjas lett, és attól kezdve csak kötött. Az úgy történt, hogy Mikuláskor hoztuk fel a gyerekeknek a mosott és vasalt ruhát, kaját. Hideg volt, csúszott az út, hátulról belénk szaladt egy autó, és Bandinak mind a két lába eltört. Akkor megcsináltattuk, hogy a gép motorral működjön, és Bandinak már csak a gombot kellett nyomogatnia. Volt nyolc emberünk is, aki dolgozott nekünk. Munka után varrtak.

Közben, valamikor a hatvanas években lett egy kis boltom, tulajdonképpen egy fabódé volt a piac sarkán. Ebben anyu árult, és Antal bácsi is besegített. Később a piac helyén felépült a Vásárcsarnok, ahol üzleteket alakítottak ki, és ott kaptunk egy üzlethelyiséget. Innen mentünk a városközponti üzletbe a társammal. De akkorra már abbahagytam a kötést, és divatáruüzletet nyitottunk. 1997-ben eladtam a társamnak a fél üzletet, teljesen felkötöztünk Pestre, és attól kezdve nyugdíjasként éltünk. Aztán Anyu meghalt 1993 novemberében.

Balatonfüreden egy társasházban van egy lakásrészünk az 1970-es évektől. Amikor ráértünk, ott nyaraltunk. A hatvanas években Bandi vállalatától mindig kaptunk beutalót is Siófokra, Zamárdira, télen Galyatetőre, ahol Bandi és a gyerekek síeltek. Külföldre társasutazással mentünk: Párizs, London, Bulgária, Jugoszlávia, Olaszország, Jalta. Még Amerikában is voltunk, Izraelben pedig kétszer. Az első autónkat, egy Moszkvicsot 1961-ben vettük [lásd: autóellátottság Magyarországon 1950–1990]. Azután lett egy Lada, majd 1972-ben egy használt Renault. A rendszerváltás után vettünk egy használt Nissant, az volt az utolsó kocsink.

1955-ben Steinről Szegőre magyarosítottunk a gyerek miatt. Valahogy úgy éreztük, hogy ezzel lezárunk mindent, ami megkülönböztet. A héten beszéltem Izraelben élő barátnőmmel. Kérdezte, hogy te is mindig arra gondolsz. Igen, hatvannégy éve történt, de amikor jön a tavasz, nem tudok neki igazán örülni, mindig az jut eszembe, hogy mi volt éppen ezen a napon 1944-ben. És ahogy jönnek a napok és hetek egymás után, csak arra tudok gondolni.

Susanna Breido

Susanna Breido
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Ludmila Lyuban
Date of interview: June 2002

Susanna Aronovna Breido is an elderly woman of 78 years of age. She is not tall, rather slim, with a high forehead, made higher by a slightly receding hairline.

Her hair is gray; she is dressed rather modestly and walks slowly. She hardly ever leaves her home and reads with a magnifying glass.

She lives alone in a three-room apartment with a lot of books and family pictures on the walls. The abundance of thick magazines [‘Znaniye,’ ‘Novy Mir’ etc.] amazes the visitor.

These are magazines of past years; they are piled up near the walls, almost reaching the ceiling. She answers my questions gladly.

She collected information about her relatives even before her participation in this program. She remembers a lot of them and keeps several big picture albums.

She was a teacher of the Russian language and literature, so her speech is correct, as if she dictated an interview to her pupils, narrating in an entertaining and inventive way.

She is a very nice, well-disposed and hospitable woman.

  • My family

My name is Susanna Aronovna Breido. I was born in Leningrad [today St. Petersburg, known as St. Petersburg until 1914 and Petrograd during WWI] in 1924. I had a chance to see my paternal great-grandfather Yerukhim Breido while he was still alive. He was born in the town of Polotsk [today Belarus] in Vitebsk province in 1826.

When I was born he was already 98 years old; he lived to the age of 106. He was a Polish Jew by birth. He was a craftsman, a household chemistry expert: he made ink, shoe polish, skin ointment, various cleaning products and so on. Formulas of chemical compositions were handed down through generations. Judging by these formulas, our ancestors traveled to England through Spain, to Germany from America and to Poland from Germany.

My father was especially interested in this subject. Looking at the ancient formulas, which reached our times in manuscript, he asserted that our ancestors on Breido’s line reached Polotsk and Vitebsk from Poland. I don’t know when exactly my great-grandfather moved to St. Petersburg from Polotsk, but I heard from my relatives that being a craftsman with a business of his own he obtained a permit in the second half of the 19th century from the Petersburg Crafts Board for residence in St. Petersburg with his family 1. My grandfather and my father obtained such permits later, as they were in the same craft.

My great-grandfather Yerukhim Breido was married twice and had children in both marriages. He had five children in his first marriage, four sons and a daughter: Grigory, [1850s-1915], Israel [1850s-1928], Rakhmil-Chaim-Ber-Leib, my grandfather [1860-1942], Tsiva [Belenkaya after marriage]; there was another son, whose name I don’t know; he left for the USA in 1915.

According to some information my great-grandmother’s name was Khvolos. I don’t know my great-grandfather’s second wife’s name. Grandfather Chaim took offence at his father Yerukhim because he ‘rewarded’ him with a stepmother when he already had children of his own, so he didn’t keep in touch with this second family for some time.

I remember my great-grandfather Yerukhim from the time when I was five or six years old. He wore a moustache, a full beard, divided into two parts, and a skullcap. By that time his second wife had already died. I visited him with my father, we brought him lunch, which Grandfather Chaim sent, and it happened on holidays when Father didn’t work.

I remembered very well my great-grandfather’s wonderful benevolence and deep respect for any person, even for such a small one like I was. He was the only relative who didn’t call me Susanna but Rasel, the name my parents really wanted to give me when I was born. I thought Great-grandfather mocked me and teased me.

When I asked him why he did so, he explained to me that my name was ‘hidden’; that I wasn’t given the name of Rosa because there was already a Rosa in the family, my sister Rakhil; but I was given the possibility to be the ‘flower queen,’ not in the Sinai valleys, but Sinai sea valleys, to be the white lily. Every conversation with him ended with friendly jokes.

When he spoke Hebrew with my father and discussed complicated stories, which were obscure for me, he translated something for me every two-three minutes, because he thought that a child shouldn’t be left in the dark. I couldn’t acquire a better lesson as a teacher-to-be. His influence on my father was great.

Once I asked my great-grandfather why his other grandchildren didn’t visit him. He replied that the grandchildren paid homage to him but his work didn’t interest them and my father was the only one he could talk to heart-to-heart.

He told my father that he had to get back to the comments he had done earlier on the Talmud, because life had forced him to reconsider everything all over again. They talked a lot about the history of various nations and religions. It seems to me now that it was what is called kabbalism. Kabbalists have to know the history of various nations as well as the history of their own faith. They never mentioned in their conversations that people choose their destiny and their time. 

My great-grandfather was an Orthodox Jew, he observed all the Jewish traditions and prayed a lot. He taught that if one found oneself in a foreign country, in a non-Jewish society, one should never express disrespect for the traditions of the other nations, as this makes one disrespectful of oneself; though one should know very well and stick to one’s own traditions. Of course, my father told me all this when I grew up, because at the time when I was in touch with my great-grandfather, I was too small to understand such things.

However, I remember how children from a Jewish boarding school and a school on Vassilyevsky Island [district of Leningrad] came to us for lunch every Friday and Saturday, called my great-grandfather rebbe Yerukhim, sometimes rebbe Yerukhim Polotsky, and the word ‘rebbe’ means ‘teacher.’

Great-grandfather Yerukhim was very sick at the close of his life; he suffered from dropsy and didn’t get up from bed. He lived with his grandson from his second marriage, a revolutionary sailor, who didn’t really show respect for his grandfather. Mother told me that the sailor shaved Grandfather’s moustache and beard off before he died, in order ‘not to have trouble with that later,’ as he said. But Yerukhim, who was affectionate and friendly with everyone, forgave him that outrage. My grandparents were exiled from Leningrad at that time and lived in Novgorod. Father was in exile in Siberia.

Great-grandfather died in Leningrad in 1932. He was buried near an old office, a red brick building near the synagogue. But owing to reforms and reconstructions, which took place later, his grave was lost. When we returned from Novgorod in 1939, we weren’t able to find Great-grandfather’s grave.

My paternal grandfather, Rakhmil-Chaim-Ber-Leib Breido, was born in Polotsk in 1860. He had a ‘weak heart’ from birth, as they called it at that time; and he suffered from ‘breast pang’ fits, which is now called stenocardia. That is why he was given so many names – it was considered that it would help to ‘cheat death, if it comes to take him away.’ They called him Chaim at home. He was a successor of his father’s craft and worked at the chemical workshop.

Chaim married Rivka or Riva Galyorkina in 1880. Grandmother Riva was born in 1860 in Polotsk into the family of a First Guild Merchant 2, Irma Galyorkin, my great-grandfather. Great-grandmother’s name was Mira; her maiden name was Sverdlova. It was a very well off family.

Irma Galyorkin owned a glass factory in Novka between Polotsk and Vitebsk, a lot of land with vegetable gardens in both cities, a whole block of profit houses in Polotsk, various stores, etc. However, my great-grandfather, a merchant, seemed not to be delighted with the marriage of his daughter Riva and provided only a cereals store as her dowry. Grandfather Chaim’s family lived from hand to mouth and, as I was told, the ‘younger sons always wore the cast-off clothes of the elder children.’

Grandmother Riva had probably had no education, but she was very thrifty and independent. She cooked perfectly and her food was most delicious on Jewish holidays. To all appearances she was one of the elder Galyorkin children and also ‘gave orders’ in her own house later on. Matriarchy was very well pronounced. Grandfather Chaim, a very good-natured person, obeyed my grandmother. She kept the household and brought up the children.

She was in command of the children too; she had six of them, besides two daughters, who died as babies. Five sons: Samuil [1881-1944]; Grigory [1882-1944]; German [1887-1959]; Aron, my father [1889-1944]; Isaac [1897-1933] and a daughter, Tsylya [1894-1961]. The four elder sons were born in St. Petersburg, Isaac and Tsylya in Polotsk, where Grandfather Chaim decided to move, after he took offence at his father, when the latter married for the second time. Grandfather Chaim’s family returned to St. Petersburg when my father was eight. 

Grandfather Chaim proceeded with his craft. Subsequently my father Aron became his successor and his brothers assisted him. Grandfather was an official owner and holder of the Breido Brothers Chemical cooperative 3. In 1931 the cooperative was shut down based on an accusation of using hired labor.

Father worked at the Breido Brothers Chemical cooperative until 1930. Grandfather Chaim was the owner and Father was the chief administrator, who managed everything. He was dealing with the watches [duty teams], kept the accounting and held negotiations with the suppliers and customers.

Though he could communicate perfectly with various people, he didn’t like to deal with the purchasing issues, he never had this streak, this capability. However, he was the only one who dealt with the formulas and was a remarkable expert in that field. They rented space for the cooperative. Jews and Russians worked in the cooperative. If there was even the slightest opportunity to help someone, Father did that immediately.

On 15th January 1931 the workshop was shut down, Father was accused of using hired labor, regardless of the fact that members of the cooperative received a certain share payment, and at the end of the year the profit was distributed between all of them; besides, Father and his brothers worked from early morning till late at night. But no one was interested in this.

They were ‘bourgeois’ for the authorities and they were to be ‘dispossessed’ as kulaks 4. Grandfather as an old man was exiled to Novgorod, to the ‘101th kilometer,’ he was deprived of his rights for three years. [Editor’s note: For any of several reasons the Soviet government did not allow people, who were exiled, to live closer than 100 kilometers to big cities. Novgorod was considered a big city.]

The brothers were exiled to other cities. Father was arrested as the principal, put into the famous Leningrad ‘Kresty’ prison and later transferred to ‘Butyrka’ [Butyrskaya Prison in Moscow]. Someone informed my mother about the time when Father was to be transferred and together with us, children, she went to see him. Soldiers with dogs surrounded the train; it was impossible to talk to Father, we could only see him. When we came home, our neighbor, a Jew, came to us, brought a picture of his wife together with our little Ada [the interviewee’s youngest sister], and tore it to pieces in front of us. Thus we became a family of an ‘enemy-bourgeois.’ 

In Novgorod Grandmother and Grandfather rented a room in the house of the Belenky family, who were cantonists 5. I still remember their Novgorod accent. The Belenky family was also Jewish, however, being cantonists and baptized, they had more civil rights. My grandparents returned to Leningrad in 1939. I met them when they were people of pension age.

Grandfather, as well as his father, wore a moustache and a beard and a skullcap. Grandmother didn’t wear a headscarf as many other Jewish women did, but remained bareheaded. Grandfather was sick most of the time and didn’t visit the chemical workshop any more. He handed over all his knowledge to my father, though they had to seek advice from him regarding formulas, especially when new compositions were invented.

My father’s parents were Orthodox Jews, Yiddish was their mother tongue and they spoke only this language with each other. However, Grandfather also knew Hebrew. I remember that he always sat in the room with his prayer books. He was sent somewhere; then he came back and continued his prayers. All Jewish traditions were observed in the family. I remember how Grandmother was washing and cleaning the dishes endlessly; they only ate kosher food.

All relatives celebrated Jewish holidays at my grandfather’s. Up to 30 people gathered there. Grandfather lived with his daughter’s family in a big apartment one floor above his daughter. Grandfather checked that everything was according to the rules: prayers, candles lighting, all ceremonies. This was so in Leningrad, as well as in Novgorod. Grandfather attended the synagogue and in Novgorod he prayed in some chapel, where ten Jews [that is, a minyan] gathered for praying. Grandfather Chaim, unlike his father, had no interest in any other religion; he thought that Jews should by all means preserve their religion and traditions, that is why he was strongly against mixed marriages.

Grandmother Riva supported her husband with regard to traditions. She died in 1940 of pneumonia. She, as many Galyorkins, had weak lungs, but suffered from such a form of tuberculosis, which allowed her to live up to the age of 80. She was buried at the Jewish Preobrazhensky cemetery in Leningrad. The funeral was carried out according to the Jewish rite.

Grandfather Chaim died at the beginning of the winter of 1942 in Leningrad, which was besieged by the Germans. He starved, in spite of the fact that his daughter Tsylya, with whom he lived, tried to provide some food for him. She sold her belongings, but it wasn’t enough. It was certainly not possible to keep kosher during the blockade 6, as there was nothing to eat at all. Grandfather died of dystrophy. It was really difficult to bury him. Albert, Grandfather’s younger son Isaac’s son, knocked up not a coffin, but a plywood case, which fell into pieces when it was pulled downstairs from the third floor. Tsylya’s husband Lyova Katznelson dragged Grandfather’s corpse on a piece of plywood to the Preobrazhensky cemetery, paid off the cemetery attendant with Grandfather’s bread [that is, his daily ration 7] and buried him there.

I know little of Grandfather Chaim’s brothers and sisters. His brother Israel Breido left for Palestine in the 1920s. In 1927 Israel wrote to my father and invited him to Palestine, saying that there were all the conditions for setting up a workshop. However, Father refused flatly, saying that this country was his only home and this was where he belonged. Later on Israel liquidated all his business in Palestine and moved with his family to South Africa, to Johannesburg. He purchased some kind of a store there and strenuously invited [his nieces] to come to his place. However, very soon, literally in several months, an accident happened: he was run over by a car and died. Thus none of us left for Johannesburg, it wasn’t meant to be.

Great-grandfather Yerukhim had more children, but I know something only about Grandfather Chaim’s stepbrother Isaac, who was born in 1889, the same year my father was born. At first he worked at the Breido Brothers cooperative, but later they had a fight and he quit. He married a Russian woman and converted to Russian Orthodox Christianity. His name was changed to Alexander Zaozersky and my parents and other relatives terminated all relations with him. However, when he died at the end of the 1940s/beginning of the 1950s, his wife called my mother and invited her to the funeral service in the church. She said that her husband, before he died, spoke only the Jewish language [i.e. Yiddish] in delirium and she hadn’t understood a word. Mother replied that she should have invited her then, so that she could have translated. Mother didn’t go to the burial service.

The narration about Grandmother Riva’s brothers and sisters should start with her sister Rakhil Galyorkina, who was my maternal grandmother. So, my parents were cousins. There were several such marriages in their family. It was done for the purpose of preserving the family capital within the family. But sometimes they really fell in love, as in such a big family they met each other often.

My grandmother Rakhil Strunskaya [nee Galyorkina] was born in Polotsk in 1870. Her husband, my maternal grandfather, Aba Strunsky, was a Polish Jew. He was born in 1869, but I don’t know in which town. He was a cabman, driving passengers who arrived in Polotsk, especially those who came by night trains. The owner of the horses was a merchant, Irma Galyorkin. During the daytime Aba played the violin, he was one of the best violinists in Polotsk. He played at weddings and funerals, both rich and poor.

Grandfather Aba’s elder brother was a civilian in the Tsarist Army. He hit an officer with a bottle on the head because he called him a ‘dirty Jew.’ In order to avoid the punishment, he had to be secretly transported to America in a ship’s hold. I don’t know anything about my grandfather’s other brothers and sisters.

The Galyorkins could have hardly liked their younger daughter’s husband, as he came from a totally different environment. As dowry, Grandmother Rakhil got the house where her family lived. They had three children: Braina [1895-1975], Moishe-Zalman [1890-1906] and Dina, my mother [1898-1983]. My grandmother Rakhil died in 1899 when she was very young, only 29 years old. She had consumption. She infected her husband Aba, her son Moishe and her elder daughter Braina with tuberculosis.

When his wife died, Aba called on his parents for assistance. His father and my great-grandfather, was a ‘forest controller’ as they called it, though I don’t know what exactly his responsibilities were. Two years later Aba died of tuberculosis. The Galyorkin brothers immediately turned out his parents from the house and took the children into their families. Before Aba’s parents lived with his family in the same house.

My grandmothers Rakhil Strunskaya and Riva [Breido] had five brothers: Leib [1842-1930s], Lipa [1860s-1920s], Isaac [1844-1915], Moisey [1846-1938] and Don [1850-1921]. Leib Galyorkin lived in Vitebsk. He was a First Guild Merchant, a wholesaler, just like his father. He had seven children: daughters Dina [1892-1967], Temma [Emma, 1882-1964], Chaya-Rokha [Anna, 1880-1944], Maria [1883-1976] and sons Girsh [Grigory, 1880-1919] and Rafail [1885-1919]. As a merchant, Leib had the right to educate his children, both in Russia and abroad.

Emma obtained high school education; Maria graduated from the Medical Institute in Derpt [today Tartu, Estonia]; Girsh and Rafail got technical education and Anna graduated from two universities: Sorbonne [France] and Bern [Switzerland]. They were certainly all Orthodox Jews until the Soviet power came.

Leib Galyorkin’s daughter, Anna Lvovna [she was Lvovna according to the passport, as her father’s name Leib was translated into Russian as Lev] was born in 1880 and was a revolutionary in her youth. She had a sham marriage with a famous social democrat, Iosif Solomonovich Blumenfeld. Documents about his life and activity are now kept in the Museum of History in the Peter & Paul’s Fortress in St. Petersburg. He was born into the family of a rabbi in Odessa.

He was a prominent revolutionary, Plekhanov’s follower 8, and had to hide, as he was persecuted for using false documents; he used various names. He was the organizer and typesetter of underground printing-houses of the RSDRP [Russian Social-Democratic Labor Party], a delegate to the First RSDRP Congress, the organizer of the printing-house where the ‘Iskra’ newspaper was printed.

Anna was the revolutionary Chicherin’s fiancée before she met him.  She married Blumenfeld fictitiously in order to get a dowry from the Galyorkin family, which was used later on to set up the Iskra printing-house. She took the printing equipment from Russia abroad. The wedding took place in Paris in the 1900s. She remained friends with Iosif Solomonovich until the end of their lives, but they never lived as husband and wife.

Our family preserved a warm relationship with Iosif Blumenfeld, especially Father’s brother Grigory: they were Party comrades; my father and he also assisted each other. Iosif married other women in 1924 and in 1925. When Iosif Blumenfeld was fired, my uncle gave him a job as an accountant at the cooperative. My father employed Boris Smelnitsky, the violinist, as a guard. Mother was indignant, ‘Boris is playing chess again with Isaac in his office, and who is going to be responsible if something gets lost? If it were your personal workshop you wouldn’t have tolerated that, but it isn’t. If he’s the guard, he has to guard.’ Mother recalled that conversation later.

Anna Lvovna Galyorkina didn’t get married for the second time. She worked as a teacher in Lonjoumeau [France] in a school of professional revolutionaries in the 1910s. After returning to her motherland in the 1920s she worked in a library of the Leningrad Polytechnic Institute and later became a pensioner, got awards and had a good state pension. She lived with the family of her niece Bella, her brother Girsh’s daughter. They were taken from besieged Leningrad in 1942 to Balashikha near Moscow, where their relatives lived. Anna Lvovna died there of cancer in 1944.

Her younger brothers Girsh and Rafail worked at the glass factory of their uncle Lipa Galyorkin in Novka. They perished there in 1919 during a pogrom. Rafail was never married. Girsh’s wife was left with four children: Bella [1905-1980], Abram [1907-1966], Sophia [1903-1990] and Mendel [1911-1949]. The eldest, Bella, was 14 years old at that time. Bella worked as an accountant in trade. She got married and had a daughter, Anna.

Bella’s brother Abram was a construction engineer, during the war 9; he served in the field-engineering forces on the Leningrad frontline. He found himself in a brigade, which made mass graves using explosives at the Piskaryovsky cemetery. Each grave was for 1,000 people. When one grave was full, they started a new one. Everybody who participated in that digging was later on assigned to various frontlines. They were told, ‘Hitler shouldn’t know about our losses.’ Abram died after the war.

Their other brother Mendel was also in the war, he was a medical attendant and was taken prisoner when wounded. He was blond with blue eyes and didn’t look like a Jew, so no one gave him away. The Germans sent Mendel to forced labor in Germany, where he worked at a farm. The landlady of the farm, a German, knew that he was a Jew but didn’t give him away to the authorities, though there wasn’t much use of his work, as he was very weak after the wound and often fell sick. After the war he was transported to the Soviet Union but died in 1949.

Leib’s brother Lipa Galyorkin inherited a glass factory from his father in Novka, a small town between Polotsk and Vitebsk. Lipa had a technical education; he re-organized the factory and purchased new equipment. ‘Novka’ became the largest glass factory in the province. About 700-800 non-Jewish workers, taken on from neighboring villages, were employed at the factory before the Revolution 10. They were all provided with accommodation: a special compound was constructed for them near the factory. After the revolution he remained its General Manager, a management was formed out of the employees, though the positions of engineers were held by Lipa’s relatives and other Jews, who obtained education abroad: in England, Germany and Switzerland.

Workers who were dissatisfied with that condition arranged a pogrom in 1919, having asked a ‘Green’ gang for help 11. The Reds and the Whites 12 were at war with each other and there were also the so-called Greens, who put together armed gangs, for example, the famous bandit Makhno 13, and plundered the population. The bandits killed Jews and robbed their houses. Eleven members of the Galyorkin family perished in that massacre, including Leib’s sons, Girsh and Rafail. Lipa himself was in Petrograd at that time and avoided death.

When he returned home and, approaching Novka, found out about the pogrom, he went to Vitebsk, where his elder son Irma worked as the head of the Revolutionary Militia. The militiamen came to Novka but it was too late. The investigation revealed that the factory committee initiated the pogrom. It contacted the gang in advance; the local citizens drew up lists of Jews and participated in robbing their houses. The workers’ leaders didn’t make it a secret and at the meetings openly called for getting rid of the Jews. It is difficult to say why no measures were taken in order to prevent the massacre.

The court hearing took place in the Vitebsk province military-revolutionary committee for 18 days. Fifteen of the accused were sentenced to execution by shooting; others were convicted for various terms of imprisonment. However, the All-Union Central Executive Committee Presidium reversed this tribunal resolution in January 1920 and released the accused.

It was a heavy blow for Lipa. He considered himself guilty of what had happened and committed suicide, having drunk acetic acid. His elder son Mendel began to work at the factory instead of him. He was later on exiled for that to a camp in Siberia and perished there. Lipa had four other sons: Isaac [1899-1990], Yeremey [1900-1983], Lasar [1907-1942] and Israel 1910-1989]. Lasar perished on the front, Yeremey also was in the war together with his wife Maria. He was a medical officer. Their son Rafail perished near the town of Belaya Tserkov in Ukraine.

Another brother, Isaac Galyorkin, lived in Polotsk. From his father Irma Galyorkin he inherited land, vegetable gardens, profit houses in Polotsk and owned a distribution market for his goods. However, when he shipped cabbage to Petersburg in railroad carriages, they said that his profit was small, but he got the right to be in any city, visit Riga, Petersburg, educate his children, i.e., it was done not for the sake of money but for the sake of these rights.

Isaac brought up my mother from the age of four after her parents had died of consumption. He was married twice. He had two daughters from his first marriage, Dina and Mira. His second wife had a daughter of her own. Anna, Leib Galyorkin’s daughter took Dina to St. Petersburg. Dina passed exams and entered Bestuzhev courses [an academy for women in the Russia Empire established by the Society of Progressive Intellectuals.]. However, after that she had a fit and was considered mentally ill and she returned home.

That is why Isaac Galyorkin didn’t provide for my mother’s education – he believed that it could make one go mad. His daughter Mira didn’t get any education either; her father took her from school after the fourth grade. Mira married her cousin Abram Sverdlov; they lived in Klimovichi in Belarus. When the war broke out they got evacuated across the Urals. Isaac was at the Leningrad frontline and survived. After the war Mira and her husband returned to Klimovichi, but later moved to Isaac in Leningrad.

Moisey Galyorkin lived with his family in the village of Shumilino between Polotsk and Vitebsk. He brought up my mother’s sister, Braina, who was six years old when her parents died. But soon after that an accident happened. Braina was placed on a hot stove after a bath and got badly burnt. After that Lipa Galyorkin took her in. He provided her with a very good gymnasium [high school] education later on.

Moisey Galyorkin had three other sons and a daughter: Nota, David [1880-1942], Samuil [1885-1942], Irma [1887-1955] and Gita [1891-1965]. David and Samuil perished during the siege of Leningrad. Samuil’s son Sleima and David’s son Zalman perished on the front in 1942. Zalman’s wife Sonya, a teacher, evacuated pupils from school # 166 14, where I studied, from Leningrad, but they found themselves on territory occupied by Germans. She perished together with her two small children in a mobile gas chamber. Irma Moiseyevich survived the blockade and took part in the defense of Leningrad.

Nota Moiseyevich was evacuated over the Urals together with his wife and daughters. Relatives of his wife, Emma Wulfovna Fridman – her brothers with their wives and children – were shot by the Germans in Shumilino in 1942. Nota’s son Yakov was in the war and reached Berlin. He is a disabled war veteran. Together with his son Nota, Moisey was procuring cattle. Nota was my mother’s fiancé for some time, until my father took her away to Petrograd in 1917. Gita Moiseyevna married her cousin German Breido, my father’s brother.

My father Aron-David Chaimovich Breido was born in St. Petersburg in 1889. Soon after his birth the family moved to Polotsk. At a certain age he went to cheder, though he studied there for one and a half years only. When the family returned to St. Petersburg in 1897, he didn’t study at official institutions. He began to work at an early age, as did his brothers. At first he worked as a ‘boy’ at the ‘Brichken & Robinson’ confectionary. At the age of eleven he became an apprentice at his father’s handicraft shop.

He mastered the high school course on his own, with the help of Grandfather, Great-grandfather and a large number of books, which he read and ordered later on. He was even allowed to indicate in formal papers that he obtained high school education, though he never took any exams anywhere. Father was a very capable person, he had an exceptional photographic memory, and if he had studied, he could have achieved a lot. He was chosen by Grandfather from childhood to continue with the family business, though he didn’t have a special chemical education, but he was a wonderful, self-taught person. 

I don’t know how Father came to ‘Tolstoyism,’ but since the age of 16 he was a member of that free philosophical society, he visited the great writer Lev Tolstoy 15 in Yasnaya Polyana and received one or two letters from him, which were destroyed later on, when the Tolstoyans were persecuted. Father became a vegetarian since that time: he never ate either fish or meat, or eggs. He was an Orthodox Jew, but he was interested not only in studying religion, but also in the issue of life and death, as well as in other philosophical issues, since his youth.

The theory of ‘non-resistance to evil by force’ by Lev Tolstoy was very congenial to him. There were people of various national groups among the Tolstoyans, including a lot of Jews. This theory didn’t contradict the Jewish religion; its main thesis was the absence of violent pressure on a personality. In a way it agreed with the Jewish religious teaching.

When World War I broke out in 1914, the Tolstoyans arranged a Petrograd Municipal Medical-Nutrition Detachment, which set up nutrition stations for starving people and a mobile surgery hospital at the Western frontline. My father was a member of that detachment and worked as a corpsman at that hospital, which was situated in the village of Voleyka near the town of Molodechno in Belarus. Father was an employee of the Russian Red Cross Society, which was headed by Yekaterina Peshkova, the wife of the famous Soviet writer Maxim Gorky 16. Father knew her very well. Working at the hospital, he reflected a lot on the fate of the Jewish people and kept a diary, which I read as a grownup. Here are some excerpts from that diary:

“…The fascination and sorrow I feel for the Jewry are not comprehensible for Russians. I would love to have the freedom and faith in myself, which Brother Alexander has [Russian Orthodox Priest], but I will never give up my belonging to the Jewry, until there is this universal faith, love and freedom. I would give away my head, rather than agree to change the ‘Jew’ in my passport to ‘Russian Orthodox,’ the same for my children… I noticed how my sense of Jewish belonging effaces itself among those who are close to me in faith; and how I speak about the Jews with a shade of pride and dignity among those who humiliate them.

I will be a staunch Jew among those who persecute and oppress Jews in any way; but in an environment where there is no such persecution and where there is equality in the eyes of God, I will be equal… I feel that being a Jew, I am most of all bound to the sufferings of the Jews. I like this faith, ancient and clear of any idols; I continue to love it, to understand it, to place it as the foundation and to reveal more future in it than past; something the Jews nurtured in their heart and did not give away to the market of outside books, 100 times deeper and more than is known of them. Their covert teaching of Kabbalah is too early for our century…”

Father was recorded in the wagon train as a civilian as he had an army service delay for ten years based on bad eyesight – he had progressive myopia. He worked at the hospital between 15th December 1914 and the end of 1916. When gas was used on the frontline, 100 Tolstoyans signed the ‘Appeal to Soldiers and Officers’ about the necessity to put an end to that monstrous and senseless slaughter. The signers were arrested. Father was in bed sick with purulent pleurisy and wasn’t arrested, but they didn’t want to keep him on the frontline, as he was a Tolstoyan.

They ordered him to go to the Polotsk Military Affairs Management, where the issue about the extension of his release from military service was to be considered. But it was an excuse, not the reason. He was to go to Polotsk because he, as all Jews, was ascribed to the Jewish Pale of Settlement and was considered a petty bourgeois of the Polotsk District.

Notwithstanding all solicitations from the frontline, Father was sent away from the frontline in 1916, though combats took place and there was a lot of work at the hospital. He was transferred from Polotsk to Petrograd hospital for examination, after that to Vitebsk hospital for after-examination, and finally, he was taken away from the frontline. [Editor’s note: The authorities suspected Jews of pro-German sentiments and removed them from the frontline and deported those who were living there.] Father got acquainted with my mother in Polotsk and in 1917 he took her with him to Petrograd, to his mother, who was her aunt.

My mother, Dina Abelevna Breido [nee Strunskaya] was born in Polotsk in 1898. She became an orphan at the age of three, was separated from her brother and sister and brought up by the family of Isaac Galyorkin, her uncle. She didn’t get any education, but she was taught to read and write. She was also taught how to sew, cook and do household work. She was physically strong, she could ride a horse, work in the garden, climb trees and liked to give orders since childhood, as she had an independent nature. When my mother met my father, she was engaged to Nota Galyorkin, her other cousin, Moisey Galyorkin’s son; but she left with Father gladly and, as she said, ‘never regretted that for a single moment in her life,’ in spite of my father’s difficult fate.

My parents got married in 1918 in Leningrad. They had a traditional Jewish wedding and a lot of guests came. When they started to live together, Mother read a lot and Father selected books especially for her, in order to fill the gaps in her knowledge. They lived in a separate apartment, but always close to Grandfather Chaim and Grandmother Riva. Mother was always among her relatives, as there were many relatives working together with my father at the chemical workshop. Everybody sympathized with and pitied my mother, always took into consideration her wishes, because she had a hard childhood. She felt herself totally free by my father’s side as he never interfered in any household issues. His business as a man was to procure firewood and the like, but all the other problems in the house were solved by my mother.

We had matriarchy in our family. No one disturbed Mother and no one ‘pressed’ her. Grandmother Riva was not only her mother-in-law, but also her aunt, her mother’s sister. Grandfather Chaim never hurt a fly in his life. Father loved his parents very much. On his way from work he visited them first, and then went home. This made Mother mad, but she couldn’t change the system. Father considered that Mother was younger and could survive any worries more easily than his old parents.

All in all, my parents lived in friendship. The most horrible swearword used in our family was the word ‘fool’; it was impossible to hear any harsh or rude word from them. It wasn’t possible either to swagger, to swank or to show off in our house, as my father despised it. Considering their material condition, they lived very modestly, though it was considered that the children had to be dressed decently and, what was most important, they had to get a good education.

There were three children in our family: Rakhil [Rosa, 1920-1995], Ada, and I, born in 1924. We also had a brother called Aba, who was born in 1927. My parents dreamed about a boy, a son. He was born a handsome and healthy baby, but he was infected with flu at the maternity ward. The flu created complications in his lungs, since every member of our family had weak lungs. He began to suffer from asthma fits, had to breathe oxygen and died at the age of six months. It was a heavy blow for my parents. After that baby another daughter was born, my sister Ada [1929-1975].

Father was deprived of the universal suffrage for five years and exiled to Turukhtansky territory in Siberia. He was convicted based on Article 59 – ‘economic counter-revolution.’ At first he lived in the village of Vereschagino, later in Baklanikha and worked as an accountant in the ‘Soyuzpushnina’ Department [enterprise specialized in growing fur animals and procuring fur]. There was a big Jewish colony and a Tolstoyan commune in Siberia. Jewish Tolstoyans met my father with warm clothes when they found out that he was to arrive. Later, when he had to be examined by a commission which reconsidered his case, and he was kept at the transit prison in Krasnoyarsk, the Tolstoyans sent for my mother and she managed to see Father for a whole week, living at these Jews’ place.

The commission determined that it wasn’t worth it to deport my father, but they didn’t release him either. He was sent with the last ship to the North down the river Yenisey. Most likely the decision concerning the reviewing of my father’s case was connected with the persecution of the Tolstoyans, because my father’s brother Isaac Breido was also summoned for the review of his case. Though he was not a Tolstoyan, he had the same last name and patronymic name as my father; the other brothers and sisters took different patronymics: his brothers were ‘Yefimovich’ and his sister was ‘Lvovna.’ It was done simply because they wanted so, there was a complete mess with documents at that time and one could write down whatever one wanted.

When the arrests of Tolstoyans started in Leningrad and the Tolstoyan Makarov was ‘accidentally’ run over by a tram [he was pushed under the tram], his wife and daughter came to us and told my mother that we had to take out everything from my father’s belongings which related to the Tolstoyans. The collected works could be left, if no one could be discredited through them.

When Mother remarked that Father wouldn’t be sent farther, since he was already in Siberia, she was told, ‘Not only Aron will be murdered, but also you and your children will be exiled to Siberia, whole families are exiled.’ Mother destroyed pictures and 18 pages of my father’s diary, which he kept in 1916 when he worked as a corpsman at the hospital. But our home didn’t get searched.

When my father was arrested, Mother had to find a job, so we had a day nanny, a Russian called Manya. Those who needed registration 17 in Leningrad gladly went to work as nannies. Since a nanny couldn’t manage both Ada, and me I had to go to a kindergarten. Mother worked as an ice-cream vender and at the Club of Sovtorgsluzhaschikh [Soviet Commercial Workers]. When there was no nanny, she worked at home, sewed gloves on a sewing machine; she also knitted mittens, as we had a knitting machine at home.

To be able to send parcels to my father she sold various things and books, of which we had a lot. Mother couldn’t pay as much attention to my education as to that of my elder sister Rosa, who learned German, music, drawing; we had teachers who visited us at home, a whole group of children of the same age were present at the lessons. I didn’t have anything of the kind because our circumstances had changed.

Father was released in the summer of 1934. He left for Novgorod, where Grandfather lived, because it was easier to obtain rehabilitation there, which he did get in October 1934. But after that ‘Part II’ started. After Kirov was killed in December 1934 18, the authorities began to exile from Leningrad the families of those who were inconvenient for them.

Mother with us, children, was exiled to Novgorod at the beginning of 1935. We were called ‘the family of the deprived’; we were unreliable. By that time my younger sister Ada was five years old and Rosa and I went to school, she was 14 years old and I was ten. Father reckoned that Rosa should stay in Leningrad. ‘All the rest will be able to return using our room, i.e., one room in our old apartment’, Father said.

Our parents thought that one of the reasons for our family’s misfortunes was our apartment, which Father reconstructed from a college assembly hall together with an engineer named Anderson. It was done after I was born. Since I was very small and weak, doctors advised them to take me to the summerhouse immediately and to change our apartment with windows facing north for a different one, a lighter and more spacious one.

When Father was arrested in 1931, we had six rooms in Smolninsky district in the center of Leningrad: Father’s office, a dining room, a children’s room, a bedroom, a servants’ room and a room where Mother’s sister Braina lived. The Militia department, located across the street, claimed that apartment, but they didn’t succeed. In 1935 our living space was a matter of interest to the house manager, that is, the administrator of the building. He came from Don and he needed rooms for his relatives.

By that time one of the rooms in our apartment was used by the family of Chernyavsky, children of my father’s friends; another was occupied by the Tikhvin family; and the third room was used by Braina, so we had two rooms left. Father wanted to leave Rosa in one of the rooms. He called Venaver, Yekaterina Peshkova’s assistant at the Political Red Cross [which organized revolutionaries’ activities and was shut down in 1937] and together with the help of their organization they succeeded in obtaining a written permission of the Prosecutor’s office for the children, that is, us, to stay. But only my elder sister Rosa stayed. Mother took little Ada with her and I was taken temporarily to Uncle Grisha’s family, because I was sick.

I went to my school for a short time. Eleven children out of 41 remained in our class, all the rest belonged to families of exiled people; but our teacher gave references to all of us, stating that we finished the school year, though I think, she took an enormous risk. Rosa lived in Leningrad between the age of 14 and 19; she received help from our relatives and children from a Jewish school, who had earlier come for lunch at our place on Saturdays and Sundays. Father was right, not only did we return to Leningrad through this room, but also our relatives who had been exiled before us.

The Tolstoyans always helped each other. When Father was exiled to Novgorod, he got assistance from Molochnikov, the person closest to Tolstoy, who created the museum of the writer in Novgorod. Molochnikov provided Father with a place in his shed, where Father immediately started a chemical shop. When we came to Novgorod, Father worked at ‘Vkuskhimprom’ [gustatory chemical industry] enterprise. He also helped needy people.

For example, he fictitiously took on Tatiana and Natalia Gippius, sisters of Zinaida Gippius [whose mother was Russian and father, Gippius, was German, 1869-1945], one of the most important representatives of the ‘Silver Age’ period of Russian Literature. She was a poetess, a prose writer and playwright and was married to the famous man of letters Merezhkovsky. They emigrated from Russia in the 1920s. The sisters certainly didn’t do any hard work in the cooperative, but they were on the legal list, which saved them from starvation and persecution by the authorities.

My parents were very hospitable and provided meals and shelter for anyone who came to us. I remember Mother telling Father: ‘You wear the same tolstovka and canvas shoes all the year round, and you give money to print cheap and free literature for people.’ These books were printed by the ‘Middleman’ publishing house, which was headed by Molochnikov and Chertkov. We had a whole pile of books of that publishing house.

I remember Novgorod very well, especially the trip to my parents’ place. For the first time I went by train alone, it took me six hours. I visited my grandparents in Novgorod before, but somebody always accompanied me. Aunt Emma, the wife of my father’s brother Grigory Breido, gave me a big paper bag of candies for the trip, so on the way I felt like a real grownup and very independent. I studied very well at school in Novgorod, notwithstanding the fact that I fell ill very often. I was the class monitor and taught those who lagged behind.

My friends were of different nationalities, but none of us paid attention to it at that time. The population of the town was 120,000 people; half of them were exiled citizens, so no one avoided me based on that characteristic. I felt that I was a very valuable person.

At first we rented a room, later the cooperative gave my father an apartment in its building, since he was a foreman, the head of the shop and the first Stakhanovite [winner of a socialist competition at the work place] in town. It was a wooden two-story house, located on the bank of the Volkhov River. There were uninhabitable premises on the first floor and the second floor was occupied by the families of two heads of the shop. The apartment had a stove stoked with firewood, but there was a bathroom and a water supply system. I even had a little room near the kitchen, reconstructed from a small pantry, with an area of three square meters.

Father often went for a walk with me in Novgorod and showed the monuments to me. We visited the Tolstoy Museum and the churches. I remember very well that almost all churches were transformed into vegetable storages or stables at that time 20. Apparently the synagogue was also shut down, as both Father and Grandfather went to pray to someone’s house, where the Jews gathered in a minyan. Father prayed a lot at home too.

My father was an Orthodox Jew. In Leningrad, when I was small, he took me to the synagogue on Staronevsky, near Bakunina Street, and to the Big Choral Synagogue. He said that one should know how to pray and know what our nation is asking from God. Father often attended the synagogue, and when some of our relatives died, he attended the synagogue throughout the whole [mourning] year. Mother kept the fast with him, celebrated all Jewish holidays, though I never saw her pray and she didn’t attend the synagogue. Father began to pray even more when he returned from Siberia, after his contacts with the Jewish community there, which preserved all foundations and national traditions.

In Novgorod Father prayed in my room and I could hear everything he said. There was barely enough space between the table and the bed. He kept boxes there [tefillin], which he put on his forehead and his arm, and tallit but he didn’t always wear it. I asked him once why he didn’t pray like Grandfather. I said, ‘Grandfather always uses the same words in his prayers, and you always say different words. Why?’ Father replied, ‘I pray and thank God for the worthy and useful deeds, that I managed to perform during the day; for what He inspired me with; for His permission to help the others. I ask Him to forgive me for something that I could have done but didn’t want to do or wasn’t able to do. I pray about this every day, that is why the words in my prayers are different.’ His prayers were a peculiar verbal diary with the analysis of his thoughts and deeds.

He didn’t force me to be religious, he said that everybody should solve the issue on one’s own, one could only advise someone else and no one had the right to point the way to someone else. If I became a member of the pioneer organization 20, I shouldn’t do something that was not supposed to be done by pioneers. He thought that I would grow up and understand everything myself. However, he always very gladly and comprehensively answered my questions, regardless of the subject of the questions, whether I asked about religion or about life in general, for example the theory of ‘non-resistance to evil by violence.’ I even argued with him. He said, ‘It doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t resist evil. You should resist evil, but not by way of violence.’ I objected, ‘You tell me that evil doesn’t obey the rules of the good. So how can you prove that something is evil?’ Or I asked him, ‘Father, how can God see what an ant, an elephant, a fox or people of different nationalities are doing at this certain moment on Earth?’ And Father replied, ‘God knows who to watch at any given moment.’ What could I say against it?

Father was a very erudite person; he was called a ‘walking encyclopedia’ not without a reason. He read a lot and went to the Public Library very often. Those he communicated with were cultured people, but he could very easily and reasonably talk to them, as he had enough knowledge in the field of literature, history and the present time, let alone special chemical knowledge.

When he returned from Novgorod for a consultation with a famous professor of chemistry from the Technological Institute, the latter was amazed at the level of his knowledge and advised him to seriously consider scientific work in the field of chemistry, in spite of the fact that Father was 45 years old at that time. I respected my father very much. The level he set for himself in life was accessible only to him. But it was easy to be by his side and one wanted to resemble him.

All Jewish holidays were celebrated in our family, and everything was done according to the rules, both Grandfather and Father kept an eye on it. Father didn’t observe Sabbath; it wasn’t possible, as everybody worked. But he always said that ‘God needs not the form, but the content and the faith of a man.’ There was seder on Pesach, and the Haggadah, which told about the Exodus of Jews from the Egyptian slavery, was read. There were special Pesach utensils and traditional meals on the festive table. Everything was cleaned before the holiday; we never ate bread on Pesach but matzah instead. We didn’t go to get it at the synagogue; we made it at home.

On Rosh Hashanah we also had traditional meals and a big round challah on the table. Chanukkah was a holiday of joy and cheerful games. Every evening eight days in a row a candle was lit on the chanukkiyah; we heard the story of the rebellion of Jews against Greeks, we heard about the Temple, about its consecration and about the miracle with the oil pitcher. Children got sweets and money, the so-called Chanukkah gelt. I remember that everybody had their own piggy bank, where we put the coins we received as presents. When the piggy bank was opened, the money was used to buy presents for relatives.

Everybody had fun and played the fool on Purim. Mother made ‘Haman’s ears’ [hamantashen] – triangular cookies with poppy-seeds. The history of the holiday, the story of Esther, Mordechai and Haman was of course told. So we knew the history of our nation since childhood, the Jewish history of 4,000 years. No one needed to be afraid of appearing worse than someone else; even if somebody said that you were a person of second rank. On the contrary, one could be proud of one’s nation and its history.

All our relatives got together on holidays. My parents kept a very close relationship with their brothers and sisters, though Mother’s brother Moishe-Zalman died at a very early age. After the death of his parents he was sent to learn the shoemaking craft in Petersburg, but his health deteriorated there and he died of consumption at the age of 17 in Polotsk.

Mother’s sister Braina was also sick with tuberculosis, but it was benign. She finished the gymnasium, worked as an accountant and lived with us most of her life. At first my parents sent her money, because she couldn’t find a job either in Polotsk or Vitebsk. Later they took her in. After the Revolution she worked in Smolny and belonged to the category of those who ‘sympathized with the Revolution’. Braina was a sick woman, she had poliomyelitis and she limped. Later she also developed a mental disease but it was in a neurological boundary stage, so she was able to work. She worked either at home or at the workshop as a day instructor. She died at the age of 80.

My father’s five brothers had a hard fate. Father’s eldest brother, Samuil Yefimovich Breido, started to work at the age of 13 as an assistant at the chemical workshop. At the age of 21 he was enlisted into the Tsarist Army and served at first in St. Petersburg. Later he participated in the war with Japan [1904-1905], was demobilized and married Vera Rivkina from a wealthy Jewish family – her father owned a factory. In 1922 they returned to Petrograd. Their younger son Isaac was around two years old at that time. Samuil worked as a carpenter, as a tea agent, later at the chemical workshop with my father, dealing with supplies. Samuil was exiled to Samarkand [today Uzbekistan] in 1931 based on Article 59 [economic counter-revolution]. Since he wasn’t considered chief at the workshop, he, unlike my father, was exiled without incapacitation, like the other Breido brothers. He returned in 1934 and died in 1944 in evacuation in Ufa. He educated all his four children.

Father’s second brother, Grigory [Girsh] Yefimovich Breido, worked either as a lathe operator or as a metalworker apprentice at the ‘Arsenal’ plant. Later he acquired the highest class qualification in this profession. He was a social democrat [Mensheviks wing] 21, ‘Arsenal’ delegate to the Duma; held the position of Deputy Chairman of the Central Military-Industrial Committee in the Duma. He was great friends with Alliluyev, Stalin’s wife’s brother; they were neighbors. He accepted stocks of weapons together with the famous revolutionary Krasin. He was in prison more than once, before and after the Revolution. He married his cousin Emma Lvovna Galyorkina, Leib Galyorkin’s daughter. They had three children: Victor, born in 1910, Ima, born in 1912, and Tsylya, born in 1914.

After the Revolution Grigory Breido became disappointed in the changes that took place and together with his friend Iosif Blumenfeld dropped out of the Party, left for his wife’s motherland and worked at the glass plant in Novka. He survived miraculously the pogrom that happened at the plant, as he was in Petrograd on business together with his uncle Lipa, the plant manager. Grigory’s wife and children were saved by the Russian nanny, who hid them at her relatives’ place.

In 1931, when Grigory’s parents and brothers were exiled from Leningrad, he was included by his revolutionary friend, who held an important position at that time, into the delegation that was to visit the tractor plant [CTZ] in Chelyabinsk in the Urals. That helped him to avoid further persecution. He organized a mechanical workshop at the CTZ in Chelyabinsk. However, it didn’t save him from the 1937 ‘repressions campaign’ [the so-called Great Terror] 22, when he was arrested and exiled to the camps near Solikamsk as an ‘enemy of the people’ 23. It is not inconceivable that Stalin ‘got him’ for his friendship with Alliluyev, because no solicitation on the part of the old revolutionaries worked. He was jailed based on Article 58 [political counter-revolution] and he died in the camps in 1944 24. In 1954 he was rehabilitated posthumously 25. His wife and children were not persecuted and stayed in Leningrad.

My father’s third brother, German [Yeremey] Yefimovich Breido, had a weak health from birth: congenital heart [valvular] defect and bad eyesight [progressive myopia]. His parents considered that he wouldn’t be able to work at the chemical workshop and sent him to Finland to be apprenticed to a tailor. However, on his return home he never worked as one, but assisted his brothers Aron and Samuil at the workshop. He never showed any interest in politics.

He married his cousin Gita Moiseyevna Galyorkina and had two sons: Mark [Morduchai], born in 1913 and Albert [Aba], born in 1918. In 1931 he was exiled to Voronezh without incapacitation and returned to Leningrad in 1934. During the war he was in evacuation in Ufa with his family. His children got university education. German proceeded with the business of his brother Aron, who had died. German Breido died in 1959, Gita Moiseyevna died in 1982 and they were buried at the Jewish cemetery.

My father’s sister’s name was Tsylya Lvovna Katznelson. Her husband Lev [Lyova] Israilevich came from a family of rabbis from the clan of David. He wasn’t religious though. He finished college and was a pharmacist by occupation, but he worked in the advertisement business, he also advertised the household chemical goods produced by the Breido Brothers. Lev Katznelson participated in the construction of Belomorkanal [All-Union Communist Construction in Siberia], which was constructed by convicts. He was doing administrative work there. He also worked as an administrator at the workshop of the famous Leningrad prison Kresty.

My father didn’t like many of Lyova’s actions, but when Lyova dragged Grandfather’s body on a piece of plywood to Preobrazhensky cemetery in the winter of 1944, Father said that God might forgive Lyova for his sins for such a deed. The Katznelson family lived together with my grandparents, Tsylya’s parents, in one apartment. Tsylya had a sight disability, so she didn’t study and worked at the cooperative of the blind. They stayed in besieged Leningrad during the war. They had three children: daughters Mira and Vera and son Israel. Tsylya died in 1961 of a heart attack and was buried at the Jewish cemetery.

Father’s younger brother Isaac [Ichke] Chaimovich Breido was a member of the Bund 26 and later joined the anarchists. He worked at the chemical workshop of the Breido Brothers, but not together with my father. Isaac had a weak health, which is why he worked in tooth powder production. In 1931 he was exiled to a free settlement in the town of Shadrinsk in Archangelsk region, the severe weather conditions of which had a bad effect on his health. In 1933 all the Tolstoyans were jailed. Uncle Isaac had no connection with the Tolstoyans, but his patronymic was ‘Chaimovich,’ just like Father’s. Maybe someone messed something up, but no one wanted to clear up the details, so Isaac was summoned to be transferred to Kresty prison for the review of his case. He didn’t reach Leningrad but died in the transit prison. He left behind a son called Albert, who was born in 1927.

My father’s brothers had different personalities. Grandfather Chaim, as well as my father, never forced his opinion on anyone; he considered that everyone had to make their own decisions concerning religion, occupation, participation in revolutionary activities and party membership. That is why Grandfather’s sons differed from one another: my father was religious and belonged to the Tolstoyans; his brothers didn’t distinguish themselves by being too religious; at the same time Grigory was a revolutionary and was declared an ‘enemy of the people’; German was never interested in politics; Isaac was a member of the ‘Bund’ and later an anarchist. However, they all tried to provide an education for their children and lived in friendship with each other.

  • Wartime years

The further destiny of our family developed in the following way. I returned to Leningrad from Novgorod together with my mother in 1939. Father came back a little earlier, in 1938, and began to work in Pushkin, which was called Detskoye Selo at that time. Iosif Blumenfeld arranged everything. There was this dormitory where it was possible to set up a chemical workshop, and this is what they did. Father quickly got registered in Leningrad and after that we could also come back. Father worked at the Leningrad Industrial Combine and combined this with other jobs, simultaneously working at other places, consulting and setting up business.

When the war broke out, he worked in Novaya Derevnya and on Suvorovsky Prospect. They produced cleaning products for wood and metal, skin ointment, waterproof hunters ointment, photoelectric cells, sealing wax, ink, stamp ink, all of it was required on the frontline. It was difficult to get raw materials in besieged Leningrad; Father knew cellars where the craftsmen kept useful materials, so workshops were set up closer to those material storages and thus it was possible to supply the frontline. Father was busy with this work during the blockade, when he was not in hospital with exacerbation of tuberculosis and was able to plod somewhere.

The work he did was hard even for a physically healthy man. A cauldron with mastic, shoe polish or skin ointment weighed no less than 80 kilograms. It was very difficult to stir this thick hot paste, having practically just one lung. Besides, it was harmful to compose chemical compounds and dyes. Twice he was brought on a sleigh from Novaya Derevnya through the whole city, because he collapsed right in the street.

I remember my last conversation with Grandfather Chaim, when we spoke about my father. It happened in 1942; Grandfather sat close to the so-called ‘burzhuika,’ the small stove, and was warming his hands. He said, ‘People can be divided into three categories: in the first are those for whom what is mine is mine, but what is yours is also mine; in the second category are those for whom what is mine is mine and what is yours is yours; and finally, most generous and reliable are those for whom what is yours is yours and what is mine is also yours. Your father belongs to this last category.’

Our relatives sent letters to us, persuading us to evacuate, but we couldn’t do that, because at the end of 1941 a misfortune happened to my elder sister Rosa. She finished school in 1938 and entered the Medical Institute, and was transferred to the fourth year of studies before the war. When the war broke out, she started to work as an anesthetist at a children’s hospital and at the same time she continued her studies at the Institute. In October 1941 a little girl was dying of diphtheria at the hospital and Rosa began to make artificial ventilation for her ‘mouth to mouth’ and sucked out the diphtheria coat.

I don’t know what happened to that girl afterwards, but Rosa fell sick with a serious type of diphtheria. She was put in the infectious diseases hospital and the doctors struggled for her life for one and a half months. She was given injections of anti-diphtheria serum four times, but the amount destroyed part of her brain. She was discharged from the hospital with a diagnosis of ‘organic brain damage’ and she remained handicapped till the end of her life.

At first she worked at home and at the chemical workshop, finished courses of nurses/dietitians [nutritionist specialist] in 1943-1944 and worked in a hospital in the regular preventive and medical attendance service, but after a severe fit she got into the hospital and never worked after that. Later on she was placed into a psychiatric hospital time and again for 13 times.

I finished nine grades of high school before the war and on 26th June 1941 I entered a six-month nurses’ course. We studied theory one day, and on the next day were on duty in the hospital. However, in two and a half months the courses were shut down, since all young men were taken away to the frontline. Besides being on duty at the Central Garrison Hospital, I also worked as a nurse/registering clerk at the health post in ‘Krasny Shveinik’ factory and ‘Krasny Pechatnik’ printing-house in Moscow district. Every other 24 hours I was able to spend a night at home.

In January 1942 I was to accompany the wounded across Lake Ladoga 27, but I fell ill with double pneumonia and recovered only in May. I was sent to an anti-epidemiological detachment, as I wasn’t fit for military service. The task of the detachment was to collect children who were left without parents, take away the dead bodies of citizens from apartments, attics, laundries, staircases and streets, and to deliver those who had fever to hospitals. We were given two weeks to accomplish the task.

I managed to see the real ‘face’ of the war and the siege during that period and it was dreadful. We delivered the children to a children’s home on Zayachiy Island. Dead bodies were taken to the crematorium. The number of children and dead bodies collected was secret information. We were able to find out about it only 40 years later; but at that time everybody reported on his own job only to his own manager.

The next task was Lagoda, where we deployed a tent hospital in order to arrange a barrier for infection. I was on duty in the hospital and studied at the surgeon nurses’ courses. In October 1942 all staff from the aerostatic regiments was sent to the frontline under the order of Zhukov 28. We hung sandbags when the aerostat descended and took them off when it had to ascend. However, in November 1943 I found myself in the hospital again because of a heart disease. When I was discharged I walked with difficulty and worked at a different detachment. Besides my work at the accounting service I also worked as a clerk and phone operator until January 1944. 

After the siege was lifted I was transferred as a phone operator to the antiaircraft-artillery regiment headquarters. I was a Komsomol organizer 29, which is not an elected post, but an appointed one in the army. We guarded the Levashovsky airdrome. At the end of 1944 I got into hospital again with a tuberculosis exacerbation and was demobilized afterwards. The doctors told my mother that I wouldn’t survive until spring 1945, but they were wrong, I appeared to be ‘enduring.’

My younger sister Ada was twelve years old when the war broke out. She fell ill right after Rosa [with severe typhus], recovered, but felt bad for some time and was very weak. Both Rosa and me stayed sick at home. Ada had to go to the market every day and carry water together with Father, since the pipes burst during the first winter. So many deaths were around… such burden appeared to be above her strength. She couldn’t cope with it and tried to commit suicide. She was saved, but Mother took her to work at the workshop, so as to keep an eye on her all the time.

Our family survived the blockade with difficulty. In 1942 Grandfather Chaim died of dystrophy, Father was more dead than alive: he was very sick, he had only one lung left, lost 36 kilograms and looked like a real skeleton, but he lived to see the lifting of the siege and even up to August 1944. When he died, he was buried according to the Jewish rite. Men said prayers at the synagogue, where women weren’t allowed in, and did everything properly. He was buried at the Jewish cemetery. One Belarusian said the following words at his coffin, which I still remember, ‘One can live a life in various ways. Life is a book. A book may be thick, but when you read it, nothing remains in your memory. And it may be a thin paperback book, but you will remember each page and each line all your life. Such was Aron’s life.’ This was my father.

The terrifying blockade time remained in the memory of everyone who survived it. I had horrible nightmares for a long time. I remember how I went home from work, turned to 6th Sovetskaya Street, and saw that the building, in which my classmate Igor Raisky lived, was gone. The place where it had been located was cordoned off as a spot of a direct bomb hit. I knew that my classmates, who were accepted to the sea cadets’ school, were to have a celebration of the event there at that time. They were all killed. There was a lot of crushed glass around and it was one block away from my house. I came home with gray temples.

Memory keeps various things. I remember: There was a three-day line for bread. People didn’t leave their place in the line, they only replaced each other. There was an interruption in production at the bread-baking plant because of the lack of water. A truck loaded with piled-up dead bodies from the Sverdlov hospital morgue went by. A dead body of a naked girl with long loose golden hair stood at the side of the truck, reminiscent of the Summer Garden statues. Everybody standing in line was deeply shocked. Once I was walking home, counting the corpses I saw, which were carried either on a piece of plywood or on a sleigh. I counted 19. Why was I walking and counting? Now I can’t explain that ‘blockade state’ to myself.

Before the attack on Vyborg ‘Katyushas’ were zeroed in, some military men were finding targets, measuring the distance to it for the future combat. A group of mortar men, aged 40-45, stood near the headquarters dugout where I worked as a clerk. They were talking and preparing for the combat. Suddenly there was a casual volley and then nothing was left, only a piece of scorched ground. I still can’t calmly listen to famous poet Mezhirov’s poems: ‘Artillery hits its own people: undershoot, overshoot, undershoot.’

After the combat two tanks pulled over at the dugout. I remember the remains of ground intestines on the tracks. The tankers went to get water and with buckets of water washed off what was recently their own and foreign soldiers. They were doing it busily, calmly, but how to live with that later on? There were a lot of deaths around and the feeling of fear was always there. However, the shelling and bombing didn’t cause external panic, they merely killed the nerves. Not only the living conditions on the frontline of the city-front, but also continuous internal feeling of danger turned us, yesterday’s schoolchildren, into grownups.

There was a notice on the door of our apartment: ‘We exchange everything for food.’ Prices for various goods at that time were as follows: wedding ring – 2 kilograms of bran; Grandfather’s clock – we asked for 2 kilograms of millet, but were given 1.5. One kilogram of bread cost 500 rubles and a junior grades’ teacher’s salary was 475 rubles. A soldier’s pension for the second category of disability was 42 rubles. There were people who came to look at the stuff, then told us that they didn’t like anything and took something with them – they just stole it. But there were also those, who were ready to help at any time. The siege showed us who is who.

Once a person came to us to buy the Schroeder concert piano. He offered us to evaluate the instrument and promised to bring us rice, millet and other food products one to two times per month for this price. He promised to pick up the piano after he paid the entire amount. He visited us for a year regularly, paid the total amount, but never picked up the piano. We were at a loss.

Everything cleared up later: when that man visited us again, he asked us to sell the piano to somebody else, and give him half of the money, because his son had got into a car accident, he was a driver for an air crew commander. That commander perished in the accident. The son was under trial and they needed money for an attorney. It appeared that the man had German relatives, but he hid it, in order not to do any harm to anyone, because the country was at war with the Germans and he felt partly guilty for his nation.

When his son was on the front this man swore to help some family to survive the siege. And he did save us by bringing us food during a whole year. His son returned from the front and now we had to save him. Mother tried to give him the total amount, which we got from the sale of the piano, but he took only half of it and said that if it hadn’t been for his son’s accident, he would have never come to see us again. 

In summer 1944 my fatally ill father decided to summarize all household chemical compound formulas, which he created during his whole life, in one copy-book. He created them using the experience of various countries, nations, our expert chemists, combining those, which were already known and inventing substitutes for the materials which weren’t available.

More than 300 products were manufactured by him or with his help in Leningrad under the most difficult conditions of the blockade. But he was able to write down only 30 formulas including detailed production technology, using short intervals between the hospitals.

Absolute blindness, high temperature and, finally, total immobility didn’t allow him to accomplish this task. He preserved a clear consciousness and started to dictate the formulas to his daughter Ada. She wrote them down into small notebooks, seven by five centimeters. Thus she wrote down around 50 formulas. Father left these formulas to my mother, so that after his death she would continue the family business with our other relatives. Father continued to take care of the people around him till his last breath.

If I talk about all our relatives, the following picture appears. Out of those 57 members of the Breido-Galyorkin family, whom I knew, 30 were on the front, and two were civilians, not based on the draft but volunteers. 21 perished. Ten perished on the front, three in the mobile gas chamber, four in besieged Leningrad and three in evacuation after they were transported from Leningrad, being sick. Nine became disabled on the front. All those, who came back from the front, have been awarded.

30 were awarded medals ‘For the Defense of Leningrad.’ These figures prove the absurdity of some people’s statements, pronounced sometimes even from the high tribune, about Jews who weren’t in the war but stayed deep in the hinterland. Our small people displayed real courage and heroism in this war.

My mother loaded herself with a huge burden during the blockade. She worked and took care of all the sick people. She could divide a small piece of bread into three parts, without touching Father’s portion; since everybody was sick, she sold everything she could and exchanged it for bread. Soya-based milk was distributed at the chemical workshop; it could also be exchanged for bread. Mother wasn’t able to save my physically weak father, however, if it hadn’t been for her, we, her children, would have died too. We all worked to the best of our abilities in this time, which was difficult for both the country and the city. We were all awarded medals ‘For the Defense of Leningrad.’

  • After the war

After the war Ada and I continued our studies. She went to school and I signed up for elementary school teachers’ courses following my regiment commander Pyotr Alexeyev’s advice. He told me that I should be a teacher, since I could ‘listen and hear,’ but the medical commission wouldn’t have allowed me to enter the full-time department at the Pedagogical College because of my tuberculosis, but there was no such restriction at the courses. At the end of our studies we were automatically transferred to the Pedagogical College, and after graduation I entered the part-time department at Leningrad Pedagogical Institute, the Faculty of Literature. At the same time I worked at a school in junior grades.

After graduating from the Institute in 1952 I continued to work at the same school in senior grades, teaching Russian language and literature. It was the biggest girls’ school in the city: 2,000 girls. I worked there for 19 years. When our Head of District Education became headmaster of a prestigious school where English was studied seriously, he offered me a position in that school.

However, by that time we had already moved into a separate apartment in a different district of the city and it was difficult for me to go to work so far, so I decided to look for a job in a school nearby. He said, ‘They won’t take you’, knowing that I was a Jewess. And he turned out to be right. I was accepted and on the next day I heard, ‘We are sorry, but this position is taken already.’ It happened because I was Jewish, so I went to work in the school he invited me to and I worked there until 1983. I still keep in touch with my former pupils.

My sister Ada had a tragic fate. At first everything went rather well for her. She had a real gift for languages, mathematics, biology and other sciences. She finished school with a golden medal [i.e. with distinction] and entered the Faculty of Biology of Leningrad State University in 1948. There were a lot of candidates and only few were accepted. It was very difficult to enter, especially for Jews, as anti-Semitism could be felt and Jews weren’t popular at the University 30.

Almost every student was a medal winner. Starting from the first year she began to simultaneously study at the Medical Institute in order to properly master anatomy and physiology. She graduated from university as a physiologist in 1953. It was at the height of anti-Semitism, but she was a very gifted person and proved herself at the sub-faculty with her works and was accepted to the post-graduate department.

As a student she married her university mate. Oleg Grigoryevich Kusakin was Russian. In 1953 their daughter Yevgeniya was born. Ada had bad kidneys, the birth was premature and very hard, the baby was taken out with the help of forceps and this process lasted for two hours. It is now known that after 45 minutes of brain being ‘starved’ of oxygen during the delivery irreversible effect occurs, which leads to severe mental diseases.

It wasn’t known at that time. When it was found out that the baby had organic brain damage, Oleg insisted that she was given away to a special institution, but my mother and Ada didn’t agree. When Zhenya was six years old, Oleg deserted his family. Certainly it was a heavy blow for Ada. Oleg left for Vladivostok.

After defending her Ph.D. thesis in 1957, Ada began to work as a biochemist at the Institute of Cytology. In 1975, a day before defending her thesis for a Doctor’s degree, she committed suicide. There was preliminary defense, academicians and friends arrived. No one expected it. Of course she was very excited and chain-smoked, which didn’t happen before, but there were a lot of reasons for that: a hopelessly handicapped child; a mentally diseased sister; an unhappy private life; worries connected with the trial over a good friend of hers, a famous Soviet human rights-defender, Sergey Adamovich Kovalyov; natural agitation before the defense of the thesis. And she couldn’t stand all this strain. They had six people in their department with medical education, who had a very good attitude toward her, but no one noticed that she was in an absolutely abnormal, psyched-out state. They apologized later to my mother and me.

After Ada’s death, my mother fell seriously ill. She died of cancer in 1983. Two handicapped people were left with me, Rosa and Zhenya, who couldn’t be left alone and without supervision. I had to quit my job and retire. Rosa died in 1995, Zhenya died in 1996. When they died I felt void and without any incentive to live.

  • Recent years

I was never married, but it wasn’t a sacrifice to my sick relatives. A close friend of mine was murdered on 5th May 1945 in Berlin. We agreed to meet on the first Saturday after the war in Leningrad at the corner of 5th Sovetskaya Street and Grechesky, but the encounter didn’t happen… many girls of my generation didn’t get married as their real and potential fiancés perished in the war.

Besides, I had a personal reason. I suffered from hereditary diseases. The type of tuberculosis that I inherited from my father [which he inherited from his mother] wasn’t hazardous and contagious for people around me, but my children would have most probably inherited it. My friend Yakov knew it and he wasn’t afraid of it, but I couldn’t take this risk with anyone else.

At present I live alone and stay in almost all the time. I get a pretty decent pension [more than 3,000 rubles = $100. Average pension in Russia is no more than 40 USD], as a teacher with 37-year experience, war and blockade veteran, so this money is enough for me to live on. An employee from Sobes [social security agency] visits me, purchases food for me with my money. ‘Hesed Avraham’ 31 offered assistance to me, but I refused, since I think that there are a lot of Jews in ward of Hesed, who need help much more than I do.

Events that take place now in Israel certainly upset me. I watch the news on TV, listen to the radio and worry for the citizens of Israel, because real war is happening there and I know very well what it means. Besides, my relatives, my former pupils and Jews just like me, live there. I grieve about them; it isn’t a foreign country for me. But what is most important, there seems to be no way out of the existing situation. And it is now possible to see ‘Death to Jews’ posters in the streets [in Russia], which really brings sad thoughts.

Despite the Orthodoxy of my father and grandfather, neither me, nor my sisters grew up in a religious way. Of course the Soviet ideology, Soviet school and institute affected us. We grew up as atheists. Father died early and Mother wasn’t religious. She tried to celebrate Jewish holidays after the war, lit the Chanukkah candles, cooked traditional Jewish meals as far as possible, but there was no one to say prayers and keep an eye on the observance of the ceremonies.

We lived in a communal apartment 32 at that time together with Russians, but it wasn’t them, but the Jewish neighbors who made rows. The most quarrelsome was a Ukrainian Jewish woman from Kiev, who yelled every time that Mother lit the candles with what she claimed were her matches, which was certainly not true. There was another Jewish family that was also very unpleasant, especially the wife, who informed against her friend during the hard years of the Stalinist repressions. [For Soviet people the word ‘repression’ carries a heavy political connotation and is associated with Stalin in the first place.] But there was also another Jewish family, who were very nice and cultured people.

So it’s not the nationality, but the person her or himself that is important. After the war anti-Semitism reappeared, but those who preached it were people of low culture, regardless of their position. Really cultured Russian people, whom I met during my life, were never anti-Semitic. In my opinion the cultural level of those hooligans, who nowadays place anti-Semitic posters in Moscow, is at its lowest.

  • Glossary:

1 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.

2 First Guild Merchant

In 1824 a First Guild Merchant [there were also merchants of Second and Third Guild] was supposed to pay 2,200 rubles for a Guild Certificate and between 75 and 100 rubles for a special ‘store ticket.’ He was allowed to be engaged in ‘domestic and foreign wholesale trade with various Russian and foreign goods and commodities in any place,’ he was permitted to ‘own ships and other vessels, stores, factories and plants – except for distilleries.’ He was also allowed to ‘transfer funds to Russian and foreign cities, to discount bills and other banking business in general.’ Merchants of lower Guilds had fewer opportunities.

3 NEP

The so-called New Economic Policy of the Soviet authorities was launched by Lenin in 1921. It meant that private business was allowed on a small scale in order to save the country ruined by the Revolution of 1917 and the Russian Civil War. They allowed priority development of private capital and entrepreneurship. The NEP was gradually abandoned in the 1920s with the introduction of the planned economy.

4 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.

5 Cantonist

The cantonists were Jewish children who were conscripted to military institutions in tsarist Russia with the intention that the conditions in which they were placed would force them to adopt Christianity. Enlistment for the cantonist institutions was most rigorously enforced in the first half of the 19th century. It was abolished in 1856 under Alexander II. Compulsory military service for Jews was introduced in 1827. Jews between the age of 12 and 25 could be drafted and those under 18 were placed in the cantonist units.

The Jewish communal authorities were obliged to furnish a certain quota of army recruits. The high quota that was demanded, the severe service conditions, and the knowledge that the conscript would not observe Jewish religious laws and would be cut off from his family, made those liable for conscription try to evade it. Thus, the communal leaders filled the quota from children of the poorest homes.

6 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.

7 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 cancelled in 1947.

8 Plekhanov, Georgy (1856-1918)

Russian revolutionary and social philosopher. He was a leader in introducing Marxist theory to Russia and is often called the 'Father of Russian Marxism'. He left Russia in 1880 as a political refugee and spent most of his exile in Geneva, Switzerland. Plekhanov took the view that conditions in Russia would not be ripe for socialism until capitalism and industrialization had progressed sufficiently. This opinion was the basis of Menshevik thought after the split in 1903 of the Social Democratic Labor Party into the Bolshevik and Menshevik factions. After the outbreak of the Revolution of 1917, he returned from exile. Following the triumph of Lenin he retired from public life.

9 Great Patriotic War

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

10 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.

11 Greens

Members of the gang headed by Ataman Zeleniy (his nickname means 'green' in Russian).

12 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.

13 Makhno, Nestor (1888-1934)

Ukrainian anarchist and leader of an insurrectionist army of peasants which fought Ukrainian nationalists, the Whites, and the Bolsheviks during the Civil War. His troops, which numbered 500 to 35 thousand members, marched under the slogans of 'state without power' and 'free soviets'. The Red Army put an end to the Makhnovist movement in the Ukraine in 1919 and Makhno emigrated in 1921.

14 School #

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

15 Tolstoy, Lev Nikolayevich (1828-1910)

Russian novelist and moral philosopher, who holds an important place in his country's cultural history as an ethical philosopher and religious reformer. Tolstoy, alongside Dostoyevsky, made the realistic novel a literary genre, ranking in importance with classical Greek tragedy and Elizabethan drama. He is best known for his novels, including War and Peace, Anna Karenina and The Death of Ivan Ilyich, but also wrote short stories and essays and plays.

Tolstoy took part in the Crimean War and his stories based on the defense of Sevastopol, known as Sevastopol Sketches, made him famous and opened St. Petersburg's literary circles to him. His main interest lay in working out his religious and philosophical ideas. He condemned capitalism and private property and was a fearless critic, which finally resulted in his excommunication from the Russian Orthodox Church in 1901. His views regarding the evil of private property gradually estranged him from his wife, Yasnaya Polyana, and children, except for his daughter Alexandra, and he finally left them in 1910. He died on his way to a monastery at the railway junction of Astapovo.

16 Gorky, Maxim (born Alexei Peshkov) (1868-1936)

Russian writer, publicist and revolutionary.

17 Residence permit

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

18 Kirov, Sergey (born Kostrikov) (1886-1934)

Soviet communist. He joined the Russian Social Democratic Party in 1904. During the Revolution of 1905 he was arrested; after his release he joined the Bolsheviks and was arrested several more times for revolutionary activity. He occupied high positions in the hierarchy of the Communist Party. He was a member of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, as well as of the Political Bureau of the Central Committee. He was a loyal supporter of Stalin. In 1934 Kirov's popularity had increased and Stalin showed signs of mistrust. In December of that year Kirov was assassinated by a younger party member. It is believed that Stalin ordered the murder, but it has never been proven.

19 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.

20 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.

21 Mensheviks

Political trend in the Russian Social Democratic Party. The Menshevik Party was founded at the 2nd Congress of the Russian Social Democratic Party in 1903, when the Party split into the Party of Bolsheviks and Mensheviks. The latter were in the minority when the issue of election to the party leadership was discussed. Mensheviks were against giving full authority to the Central Committee of Bolsheviks, although they admitted the inevitability of a socialist revolution and dictatorship of the proletariat. The Mensheviks did not acknowledge the October Revolution. They believed Russia was not mature enough for socialism. In 1924 the Mensheviks ceased to exist.

22 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.

23 Enemy of the people

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

24 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.

25 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.

26 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.

27 Road of Life

It was a passage across Lake Ladoga in winter during the Blockade of Leningrad. It was due to the Road of Life that Leningrad survived in the terrible winter of 1941-42.

28 Zhukov, Georgy (1896-1974)

Soviet Commander, Marshal of the Soviet Union, Hero of the Soviet Union. Georgy Zhukov was the most important Soviet military commander during World War II.

29 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread 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.

30 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.'

31 Hesed

Meaning care and mercy in Hebrew, Hesed stands for the charity organization founded by Amos Avgar in the early 20th century. Supported by Claims Conference and Joint Hesed helps for Jews in need to have a decent life despite hard economic conditions and encourages development of their self-identity.

Hesed provides a number of services aimed at supporting the needs of all, and particularly elderly members of the society. The major social services include: work in the center facilities (information, advertisement of the center activities, foreign ties and free lease of medical equipment); services at homes (care and help at home, food products delivery, delivery of hot meals, minor repairs); work in the community (clubs, meals together, day-time polyclinic, medical and legal consultations); service for volunteers (training programs).

The Hesed centers have inspired a real revolution in the Jewish life in the FSU countries. People have seen and sensed the rebirth of the Jewish traditions of humanism. Currently over eighty Hesed centers exist in the FSU countries. Their activities cover the Jewish population of over eight hundred settlements.

32 Communal apartment

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