Travel

Venezia Kamhi

Venezia Kamhi
Sofia
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Dimitar Bozhilov

After the political changes in Bulgaria of November 10, 1989, life became harder for my family. Everything we had built and fought for started to fall apart. I value Eastern Europe's opening to the world. History goes on. We had capitalism, then socialism, and now a democracy. Life goes forward, and that is how it should be. Changes are natural, but they are very hard for us.

My family background

Growing up

During the War

My family and life after the War

After 1989

My family background

My ancestors came from Spain two centuries ago. They belong to the Sephardi settlers’ group that came to the Balkan Peninsula in the 18th century. My paternal grandfather and grandmother lived in Sofia. My paternal grandmother and grandfather were born in Sofia. My mother's parents were born in Kiustendil, and so was my mother. My paternal grandfather, Mordohai Konorti, was born in the 1840s in Sofia, which was then under Turkish rule. I do not remember exactly what my father's parents' occupation was, because I was a little girl when my grandfather died in 1938. I do not remember my grandmother, Lucia Konorti, either; she died before I was born. She was born in the 1850s and was probably a housewife.

I remember my grandfather Mordohai sitting in the courtyard and reading big books in Hebrew. He used to give me 1 lev every Saturday to buy something for myself – he gave money only to me probably because I was his youngest granddaughter. He spoke Ladino and Bulgarian. He used to wear casual clothes. He didn't work at the time that I remember him.

We used to lay a big table every Saturday after Grandfather came back from the synagogue and the whole family used to gather around it. My mother, Regina Konorti, used to cook chicken soup, chicken with rice and traditional meat pastry. My grandfather used to perform the whole ritual for Pesach. Our neighbors loved to visit us for this holiday because my grandfather and my father were very good singers.

My father had a younger brother and a sister, Baruh Konorti and Buka Konorti. Baruh was a barber. He went to live in Palestine in 1926. He had a lot of difficulties there and he wrote many letters to my father asking for help. He had to leave Palestine and come back to Bulgaria in order to go to Israel in 1949; he settled in Akko.

My mother's parents were from Kiustendil. My maternal grandfather, Israel Lazar, was born in 1872 and died in 1945 in Sofia. He was a merchant. My maternal grandmother, Venezia Lazarova, was a housewife.

All my mother's relatives moved from Kiustendil to Sofia after my grandmother died. My older uncle Buko Lazar got married and gathered the whole family in a big house on Serdika Street in Sofia. This house belonged to an aunt of my mother's; unfortunately I do not remember her name. My older uncle lived there, together with his two brothers and two sisters. My mother also lived there before she got married. Later, everybody moved with his or her families to Israel. Only two sisters-in-law of my mother's kin remained in Sofia. My uncle Albert Lazar got married in 1940 and his daughter was born in 1943. Uncle Buko died in 1942. My youngest uncle, Nisim Lazar, got married in 1946 and he moved to Israel in 1948. Buko and Albert Lazar had a fruit shop. I think my grandfather in Kiustendil had been in that trade, and my uncles inherited that profession from him. Nisim Lazar was in the clothing trade, and Aunt Matilda was a housewife.

My father, Avram Mordohai Konorti, was born in 1900 in Sofia. He had studied in the Jewish school. He spoke Ladino, Hebrew, Bulgarian and a little Italian, because he had been a captive in Italy during World War I. He had a command of Hebrew and Bulgarian, spoken and written. My mother was illiterate. She learned to read and write when my brother and I started school. My father was a carter. He transported goods from the railway station to different factories and shops. I suppose that my mother and father got married in 1921-1922, because my brother was born in 1923. They didn't get married before the registrar; they had only a religious wedding.

My parents wore traditional European clothes. My father used to wear a jacket, trousers and an overcoat, my mother, dresses. There was nothing special about their clothes.

My father went to the synagogue, mostly on holidays. He dressed elegantly. He wore a hat, and he had a tallit. He used to take his Jewish prayerbook and go to the synagogue. We prepared the festive table before his return. The Jewish community wasn't that well organized at that time, as it is now. Then 5,000 Jews lived in Sofia. We are only that many in the whole country now. We had a Jewish community center, Bet Am, a school and a synagogue. The strict organization of Bulgarian Jews now is mostly a consequence of the small number of Jews in the country. The people want to feel Jewish, but, let us admit, step-by-step the Bulgarian population assimilated us.

Growing up

My first home was in the Jewish neighborhood in Sofia, on Dr. Zlatarev and Odrin Streets. The house was destroyed and now there is a block of flats on its place. My daughter lives there now. My father was born in that house. Half of the house belonged to my father and the other half to my aunt. The house itself was not big: a one-story brick house with one large room, one narrow corridor and a small room where my grandfather lived. We had an entry hall where my mother used to cook, and we also received guests there.

We had a big courtyard with a garden and hens. There were flowers in the garden, mostly. The hens lived in the corner of the yard and laid many eggs. We also had a goat whose name was Roska. I was very slim as a child and my parents were told I had to drink goat milk. That’s why they bought the goat. My father was a carter, so we had a horse and a special building for it. All the courtyards in the Jewish neighborhood were connected via small doors and we could go from one house to another without going out on the street. Even during the blockade in 1923 [a year of coups d'etat and curfew] people could go and visit their neighbors. The blockade was so strict in June 1923 that when my mother was giving birth to my brother, Mordohai Avram Konorti, on June 9 [coup d'etat when prime minister Alexander Stamboliiski was overthrown], soldiers came to verify that my mother really needed a midwife before they would let her come to our house.

There was electricity and water in the house. We used coal-burning stoves for heating. The mornings when I got up early for school were very pleasant. My mother used to get up earlier and fire the stove, and it was "roaring" and its light was blazing; it was lovely on the ceiling.

We lived in the Jewish neighborhood on the western side of Opalchenska Street. There were Bulgarians living together with us, of course, and we got along very well. When my mother left for Israel in 1949, she asked our Bulgarian neighbors to take care of me. They have always been very friendly and gentle with me. They used to call me Vizka. After my mother emigrated, they felt somehow obliged to take care of me, as I was not old enough to take care of myself alone. I was only 20 years old.

When I was a child, most Jews were merchants. Of course, they practiced other professions, too. My father, for example, was a carter; there were craftsmen, too. Jewish people belonged mostly to the middle class, but there were very rich people, too – factory owners, tradesmen with big shops. Most people had a good occupation until 1939 when the "National Defense Law" was accepted. After 1939, Jews did not have the right to own shops or have prestigious jobs, and that is when privation and limitations began. The National Defense Law was very harsh on the Jewish people.

There was a Jewish community in the neighborhood. The synagogue was on Osogovo Street. The Jewish school was also there. This building is a school once again and it is a bit larger now. There was a very small synagogue in the school. Many parties were organized in the school, and there was a lot of singing and dancing. This is where I heard the famous singer Mati Pinkas for the first time. I had seen her as a very young girl when she used to visit one of her aunts who lived on our street.

We observed Shabbat. We usually worked during the day, but in the evenings we observed Shabbat. Pesach was my favorite holiday. All the children in the neighborhood used to meet and play with walnuts. We used to arrange carnations and quinces, and they smelled lovely. We spent eight days enjoying a happy holiday. Our neighbors used to visit us on Pesach and everyone used to have their own table. Many younger families used to come to us as they did not know the Pesach ritual. At my house, Grandfather used to perform the whole ritual. My mother used to wash all the dishes with soda in a big cauldron every year before Pesach, and the dishes became really bright. She did that because my grandfather insisted – he was very religious. She used to do that every year – she cleaned everything and after that we brought matzah. During Pesach we used to eat only matzah for eight days, no other bread. After I got married, I did not observe those rituals that strictly anymore.

We used to celebrate Frutas – a holiday of fruits – which is also in the spring, after Pesach. On this holiday seven or nine kinds of fruits are mixed on a big plate. Afterward, we put the fruits in bags and gave them to children. My granddaughter also enjoys that holiday very much. Another holiday when we used to gather was Hanukah. We used to light eight candles on eight consecutive days: the first day, my grandfather lit the candle; the second day, my father; the third day, my mother; the fourth, my brother; and after him, it was my turn to light my candle.

I had a happy childhood. My parents got along very well and the atmosphere at home was calm. I got new shoes and clothes for every holiday. I remember that my father sent my mother and me to the town of Dupnitza to visit his brother, and that was my first journey by train – in the 1930s.

My family was wonderful. My father loved to sing, and he really sang very well. He, my brother and I used to sit on the bed in the bedroom on Sundays and sing songs from songbooks. My father sang songs in Ladino. The texts were very romantic.

I do not speak Hebrew. I have been to Israel five or six times, but I only know some 100 words. I did not study at a Jewish school. I don't know why I started at a Bulgarian general school directly. I graduated from Vassil Drumev primary school, which still exists now in Baltova vodenitsa. Afterward, I studied at High School No. 13 and I graduated night school. I have a very pleasant memory of my first teacher, Mrs. Darina Alexandrova, who came to live in our quarter and used to visit me even after my daughter was born.

As I did not have grandparents living outside of Sofia, I had to spend the holidays at home. In the 1930s, when I was a child, we used to amuse ourselves a lot by going to the Odeon theatre, which was then on Vaptzarov Square. I recall many beautiful weddings in the synagogue. There was an empty space next to our house and the children used to meet and play different games or perform theatrical recitations.

I was only 15 years old when my father fell very ill and was bedridden for a year and a half. My brother owned a brush workshop on Pozitano Street at that time. My father died of cancer. He left us very early.

My brother, Mordohai, is six years older than me. He was born on June 9, 1923. He studied brush-making in a craft school before World War II began. He did not graduate because we were interned outside of Sofia. He went for an exam after September 9, 1944, and he became a master and got the right to open his own shop. He left for Israel, together with my mother, in January 1949. My mother thought that was the way it should be: the mother should go with her son and he had to take care of her. I begged her to stay with me, but she left with him. My brother got married late, after my mother died. He was 40 years old then. Now he has a family and two daughters – each of them has three children.
 

During the War

On May 24, 1943, there was great unrest. Members of the Brannik organization appeared on horses in the town. They did not have any restrictions – they could beat and destroy, and we were very oppressed by them once Hitler started the war. At that time, Jewish young men gathered in the Central Synagogue and organized protests against the National Defense Law. I was a little girl, but my brother and my future husband took part in these protests. These were youth protests mostly; my father didn't take part in them. Right after that, we started to receive notes about the internment. According to these notes, we had to leave for Kiustendil; we had the right to take only 20 kilos of luggage. We started to get rid of our household belongings. The whole neighborhood brought their belongings out to the street to sell them and earn some money, and so did we.

We got the message to leave Sofia on May 24, 1943, and on the 25th-26th, we were already on our way to Kiustendil. There was not enough time to pack properly. We put only clothes and blankets into those 20 kilos of luggage. The officials sent us a message with the date and time we had to go to the railway station. People said we had to be assembled in different towns so that they could easily transport us to the Aegean region. The 11,000 Yugoslavian Jews who were deported there had died. Meanwhile, there were many protests by the Bulgarian public against the deportation of Bulgarian Jews to Poland. A great part of the population protested: religious organizations, the vladika [Bulgarian church leader], Petar Dunov [famous Bulgarian philosopher] who was very close to Czar Boris III. More than 50 members of the Parliament signed a petition against the deportation of Bulgarian Jews to concentration camps in Poland and that's how we were saved.

In Kiustendil, a friend of my mother's took us to her house; that was where we lived. My mother suffered from stomach aches and she was ill all the time, so we had to buy fresh milk for her. But at that time, we didn't have the right to buy even one liter of milk. One of our neighbors offered to buy one bottle from the milkman for us. The courtyards between the houses were separated by low fences, so she could easily pass it to us. She did not realize what could happen if somebody saw her. She took the bottle of milk and passed it to us. Brannik members saw her and came to our house. We did not even have an oven at home. We only had one small hotplate in the corridor, where my mother used to cook. The Brannik members rushed into the house and started to kick the hotplate and spilled the milk. They were very aggressive. Fortunately, this organization stopped after September 9, 1944.

We, the Jews, by God's law, have to help the other Jews. This is a mitzvah. If you have 1 lev only, you have to give it to the poor – never mind this is all you might have. You may give only 1 stotinka [the smallest Bulgarian coin], but you have to help the poor. That is how the Joint works now in Bulgaria – the rich Jews gather money to help the others. This is the core of the mitzvah, to help your fellow men. We do that in our Jewish organization. Tomorrow, for example, I will visit a sick woman. Usually we take 5 or 6 leva from the community funds and give them to the person in need. Every one of us donates 1 lev every three months for sick people, for birthdays and other occasions. I am the treasurer and I report at the end of the year.

At the beginning, when we moved to Kiustendil, we had food from the common cauldron, as did all the newcomers. It was in the Jewish school of the town, where we were settled first. After that we moved to my mother's friend's house. My mother was ashamed to go and get food from the cauldron because Kiustendil was her native town and everyone there knew her. My father also did not want to do that. My brother was often absent from home as he was sent to work somewhere else. I used to take my bag and saucepan and go to the Jewish school where they fed us with beans and potatoes. Life was really miserable in Kiustendil.

When I was a student in the first class, Czar Boris III's son Simeon was born. To mark the occasion all the students got excellent marks. [Six is the highest mark in Bulgaria.] Some even got seven! Another political matter we discussed in the family was Hitler's rise to power. After that, the Jews began to wear special badges. My parents thought that was a Jewish tragedy. When Bulgaria entered the Tripartite Pact – Rome, Berlin, and Tokyo – we started to fear for our lives. We had a foreboding that something terrible was going to happen, that we might not be here now. They were on their way to leaving for the crematoria.

I started to work very young. I began to work during school vacations. I started at a small hatter's shop. I went on working at a hatter's in Kiustendil. I studied the craft in my mother's cousin's shop. I did not like to sew in the beginning, but that became my profession for life. After we came back to Sofia, I started work at a tailoring factory named Osvobozhdenie [liberation] that was built by the Joint. Meanwhile, I studied at a night school. I married my husband, Josif Kamhi, in 1950– the year I graduated.

My family and life after the War

I met my husband in 1943 in Kiustendil, where we were interned. All the young Jews used to meet at the Jewish school in the town. We used to play volleyball or narodna topka and chat in the evenings. Despite the poverty and the persecutions, we managed to have our happy moments. We used to gather in one of the Jewish schools where many Jewish families were settled. Several families used to share one room equipped only with mattresses. We used to carry on philosophical conversations, discuss books. I had my first New Year's Eve without my family. We didn't have enough money then and everyone used to give whatever they could to prepare for the celebration – flour and other products. The girls prepared the meal. I had an admirer in Kiustendil who used to sing songs in Spanish and play the guitar. He used to call me "the goddess of my happiness." Since then, my friends started calling me "the goddess."

When we came back from Kiustendil to Sofia, our house in the Jewish neighborhood had been robbed. Even the windows were missing. I traveled 24 hours on my way back to Sofia alone on a freight train. I thought that my brother would meet me at the station, but he had misunderstood and waited for me on a different railway station. When I got off the train, it started to rain heavily. A carter saw me and offered to take me home. Our neighbors helped me to unpack my luggage. A friend of my mother's, who had already settled, sheltered me at first. In a few days we managed to reconstruct the house; we put in doors and windows and dried my wet luggage.

We started to study and work again. I kept in touch with my friends in Kiustendil. My husband and I got married in Police Department N1, opposite the Rila Hotel in the center of Sofia. My mother and brother had already moved to Israel and didn't attend the wedding. I did not go to Israel in 1949 because I already had a serious relationship with my future husband. I saw my mother and brother again in 1957 when I managed, with great efforts, to buy tickets and take my 5-year-old daughter to Israel with me. That was the last time I saw my mother.

My husband was born on June 29, 1926. My husband's parents were also Jewish. His father was a butcher and his mother was a housewife. His family’s house was on Pozitano Street. He was interned to Kiustendil, just like me. He had been in the concentration camp Kailaka in Pleven. There was arson in the camp. His mother saved him; she told him to run away immediately while she died in the flames. He tried to save her. He tried to pull her away when her long skirts got stuck between the beds. But the roof went down; melted asphalt poured down on her.

My husband studied in a Jewish school; after that he went to a secondary school for boys. He graduated after September 9, 1944. He studied in the mechanical and electrical technical institute in Sofia and became an electrical engineer. After he had graduated, he worked on many different projects. He has always been respected and highly esteemed by his colleagues. He worked on a project for the electrical installation of a factory in Cuba and he spent nine months there.

My husband and I were members of  the Revolutionary Youth Union [formed before the coup d'état of September 9, 1944]. We both thought we had progressive political convictions. Now I think that was a youthful aberration. We shared the same ideals, we lived in privation and worked hard, but gradually I concluded that all this was useless. We used to go on youth brigades every Sunday, we wanted to build a beautiful country, and we wanted Bulgaria to have successful industry. But it all has crumbled to nothing, and now I ask myself why we have wasted our lives that way.

My daughter Beti was born on July 13, 1952. I always tried to bring my daughter up in the "Jewish spirit" and I always encouraged her to have Jewish friends. She herself also wanted to be in a Jewish circle as we, her father and I, did. I have always lived in a Jewish circle. Ever since my childhood, I have had Jewish friends. My daughter and granddaughter have a much wider circle of friends than mine. The Jewish people were quite scattered at the time, so my daughter married a Bulgarian boy.

My aunt Matilda used to look after my daughter. Aunt Matilda was very religious. She observed all the Jewish rituals. Her husband used to go to the synagogue regularly. They both spoke Ladino and my daughter learned a little Ladino from them. Thanks to my aunt and uncle, I did not have to explain to my daughter what it means to be Jewish. I used to tell stories about our life during the war, to my granddaughter mostly. When my daughter was a child, I had to work so Aunt Matilda looked after her. Aunt Matilda even used to go to the meetings of the parents’ committee in my daughter's school.

I started work in the Osvobozhdenie factory after World War II; I worked there from 1945 to 1949. After that – from 1950 to 1955 – I was a librarian in the Jewish students' reading room. I worked as a dressmaker in the Zoya dressmaking factory from 1955 to 1958. Later I worked in a dressmaking establishment named Vitosha, from 1958 to 1968, and after that in the state company Texim until 1975. My next workplace was in the Center for New Goods and Fashion, Lada, and from 1980 to 1982, I worked in a design factory again. I left work in 1982 to look after my newborn granddaughter Anna. I retired later, because in 1982 I was still not at the age required for retirement.

Life became much calmer in the 1950s. Our salaries, homes and work became more secure. That is why I value that period so much. Whatever I dreamed of, I bought it. Now I cannot even think about that. Nowadays, I go short of even the smallest things. My profession, a dressmaker, is valued as “third category” labor; that is why I have a very low pension – only 68 leva. It is good that my husband gets more – 150 leva – so that we can make ends meet. I try not to bother my daughter, because I know that her life is not easy.

I was always afraid that something bad might happen to my relatives in Israel during the wars in 1967 and 1973. All my relatives live there. When I went Israel before, I had to go to the Swiss Consulate to get my tickets certified. I am very happy now that there is an Israeli Consulate in Sofia. I have been to Israel six times. The first time was in 1957, and the last time, in 2000. The last time, a friend of mine provided a whole apartment for my husband, my daughter and me. Every time I go there, all my relatives and friends come to visit us. They all are very friendly, and I feel surrounded with love and attention. I do not have enough money when I travel to Israel, so all my relatives there – my husband's and mine – help us. They even give us money for bus tickets.

People in Israel live with war. When I was there for the third time, the son of my best friend there was a soldier in the army. One day she saw a car of the Red Cross [Magen David Adom] driving to her house, and she ran out, very worried, to see if they had brought bad news about her son. That is how people in Israel live. They worry and fear that something horrible might happen to their children. People there are ready to give anything for their country. They believe in that! My two nieces have been soldiers in the desert for two years. We, the Jews, should have our own country! We are spread all over the world, but when we have our own country we feel safe. Otherwise we could be persecuted and humiliated everywhere. If I were persecuted in Bulgaria now, I would go to live in Israel because this is my land!

I did not have any trouble calling my brother, even during the wars in Israel. I phone him seldom now, as it is quite expensive for me. My brother calls once a month. Many friends and relatives also call us. They are my life and I always keep in touch with them. The war in Israel did not affect my life directly. Anyway there was a certain distant attitude to us because we are Jews. We couldn't organize any events spontaneously. We only had a formal Jewish community since 1989.

People revealed their Jewish origin depending on their profession and their position. For example, my husband's aunt worked in the military services and she had to refrain from pointing out her Jewish origin and saying in which countries her relatives lived. I myself had a very ordinary state job, and I didn't worry about talking about my relatives in Israel at all. My husband and I didn't hide the fact that we had relatives there.

I still observe all the Jewish holidays. I observe Christmas and Easter only when I go to visit my daughter's family; her husband is Bulgarian and they celebrate these holidays. I prepare Easter cakes every year. I live in Bulgaria, after all, and I do not want to feel different in this way. I have a special vessel to boil milk and a special baking dish for almond cookies. I use those dishes not because of religious reasons but for practical reasons only.

After 1989

After the political changes in Bulgaria of November 10, 1989, life became harder for my family. Everything we had built and fought for started to fall apart. I value Eastern Europe's opening to the world. History goes on. We had capitalism, then socialism, and now a democracy. Life goes forward, and that is how it should be. Changes are natural, but they are very hard for us. Parting is something that is very difficult. I was very happy when the Berlin Wall fell and many people could meet again. I know very well what parting means.

We have a special group within the Jewish community in Sofia where we learn Ladino once a week. We meet to read and talk in Ladino. We have a study group in Hebrew at the Jewish organization "Shalom" in Sofia. I don't go to these lessons because they only practice the language there and do not exactly study it. I visit the "health" club twice a week and I am a cashier there. We gather in the “third age" club on Saturdays. The leader of the club has many contacts in the cultural and artistic circles. He organizes different events for us: discussions, celebrations, singing, concerts. I am a very sociable person, and I love talking to people. That is why I attend all the events in the club. I am a member of the volunteer group in "Shalom" that takes care of the sick people in the community.

All the Jews who have very low pensions are supported by the Joint. This foundation helped build a factory that provided Jews with jobs immediately after the coup d'etat of September 9, 1944. The foundation also helped people go on holidays. I have been on holiday in Borowets.

I have met Russian Jews in the "health" club and they told me stories about how they were persecuted and terrorized. I remember how much we trusted Stalin; we thought he was an idol. We did not realize the truth. We were such idealists in the years between 1944 and 1953 that we believed him utterly and didn't realize he was a dictator. We only knew that he had borne the whole brunt of the war. Later we learned that he had built many concentration camps, everywhere in Russia and especially in Ukraine, and many Jewish people were killed there.

Bella Chanina

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

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

My family backgrownd

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family background

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Growing up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

During the war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After the war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Glossary:

1 Bessarabia

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

2 Great Patriotic War

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

3 Russian Revolution of 1917

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

4 Annexation of Bessarabia to Romania

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

5 Lermontov, Mikhail, (1814-1841)

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

6 Jabotinsky, Vladimir (1880-1940)

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

7 Keren Kayemet Leisrael (K

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

8 Annexation of Bessarabia to the Soviet Union

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

9 NKVD

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

10 Komsomol

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

11 Kolkhoz

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

12 Card system

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

13 Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’

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

14 Doctors’ Plot

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

15 Gulag

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

18 Kislovodsk

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

19 Item 5

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

20 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

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


 

Alexandra (Shifra) Melenevskaya

Alexandra (Shifra) Melenevskaya
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer – Sofia Shifrina

Alexandra Yakovlevna Melenevskaya is a very friendly person, she immediately wins your favour. She is short, has expressive and clever eyes and good sense of humour – she looks like a person who was very practical and energetic in her past, though at present her health status often lets her down. She lives in a two-room apartment with her adult son. It is necessary to nurse him, because he is an invalid (1st group of disability). Their apartment is small, but very cosy, family relations are most friendly, and Alexandra Yakovlevna appeared to be an excellent story-teller. I was surprised at her tenacious memory - how can she remember so long all the dates and details of past events, even if they did not concern her personally? It was very interesting to listen to her, and it seemed to me that she easily recollected hard times and terrible moments of her life. Only the next day she told me that she had not slept all the night after our meeting. This is how strong and endurant she is.

My family background

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family background
My grandmother and grandfather, the parents of my father, lived in Ukraine, in Meleni village – this is where my surname – Melenevskaya – came from. All inhabitants of this village were known under the name of Melenevsky. Irrespective of nationality – Ukrainians or Poles – all of them were Melenevsky. Everyone had such surnames in correspondence with the name of their village.

Samuil Melenevsky, the father of my father was born in 1851 and died in 1937. In our family he was called a Bluebeard – aged 43 (in 1894) he got married to my father’s mum when she was 18 years old, besides she was an orphan. Her name was Frida Melenevskaya, I don’t know the date of her birth and she died an early death in 1910s, but she had time to give birth to four boys. She lived a difficult life, my father’s father was hard to get on with and very self-willed. My father was born in 1895, I know a little about his childhood - all I know is that when they grew up, their father sent his four sons to work as malchiks. According to my father, he was sent to a furniture factory to make Viennese chairs.

My maternal grandmother’s (rusme001.jpg) (1870s-1942) and grandfather’s (rusme002.jpg) (1870s-1942) surname was Levin. Levins are considered to be people who bring religion to people (the name originates from the word Levite). They had a house, my grandfather – Yakov Levin - worked in a mill, my grandmother – Mindl Levina - was a housewife, she had 10 children, but only six of them were alive by the beginning of the war. My mum was their first child and she was born in 1895.

Yosif Levin, my uncle and my mother’s younger brother (1902-1980s) was born 7 years later my mother’s birth. Between him and my mum there were more children, but they died. After his birthday my mum was turned into a nurse, she coddled and babied him. My mum told me, that once she was sitting on the door-step near the door with Yosif in her arms, and my grandfather wanted to get out and pushed her accidentally. And this boy was fussed over very much – first of all because he was a boy, secondly because they went through so many deaths of previous children. So, my mum was carpeted. The memory of it remained with her all her life. Though my grandfather was very kind,  I think he gave my mum a swish.

In 1910s my mum Odel Levina (rusme003.jpg) married my father and changed her surname – she became Melenevskaya, and in 1921 my mum gave birth to a son, Ilya Melenevsky, my elder brother (rusme004.jpg). My father (rusme005.jpg) became a member of my mum’s family. Mother considered him to be an orphan. All sisters of my mum got to like him, and all his life he helped them as best as he could.

In 1921 when my brother was born, Petliura (1) appeared in the village. My mum and her neighbors secreted themselves in a cellar, because they were afraid to be found. By that time my brother did not reach the age of 1 year yet, he was nothing but a little child and suddenly he started crying. Then people who were sitting in the cellar offered my mum to strangle him (my mum told me), because his cry could announce their presence. But certainly, mum did not do it, thank God, Petliura did not find them and they survived.

I was born in 1926 in Volodarsk Volynsky (a city in Ukraine). In the same year my parents moved to Korysten of Zhitomir oblast (a city in Ukraine). They had a house there and where we lived in. I keep in my memory several episodes. Together with my brother we threw a ball over the roof, though I was a child I remember that he somewhat mocked at me, as a joke certainly. I also remember that my brother was ill with scarlatina and at night he was throwing up - my mum visited him in isolation hospital. And when she came home, she did not permit me to touch her, because it was possible to get the scarlatina infection from a third person - I have a quick remembrance of this episode .

In 1932 when Ukraine suffered from severe starvation, my grandmother and grandfather left for Crimea (Ukalnar railway station). They began working at a kolkhoz (a collective farm). Grandfather was already an elderly man and he worked at the water-melon plantation as a watchman, and my grandmother worked at the cheese dairy in this collective farm. It was a very rich Jewish collective farm called Lenindorf - only Jews worked there. So good vineyards they have planted there! The chairman of the collective farm was a very young man - he was very practical and thanks to him this collective farm was flourishing. And you see that they have arrived on an empty place and managed to organize so good collective farm! And for example he organized children for gleaning after harvesting. Children went for gleaning and put ears on special carts. I was a child, I also went there with other children, and after that they gave us melons and water-melons for work.

A German collective farm – Rote Shane – was situated near by. And by the way, these collective farms were good friends. They were so close to each other that there was almost no border between them. At that time there were many Germans in Ukraine, they also moved to Crimea to organize collective farm there, just like my grandmother and grandfather did. They were those Germans who lived in Ukraine and as a matter of fact escaped from starvation. And there they earned money, planted vineyards, water-melons and melons. They had plenty water-melons and melons, besides the collective farm possessed flocks of cows and a cheese dairy.

My grandmother had a cow; this cow was our foster-mother. I remember that our cow got ill – it ate up something wrong. The veterinary told, that the cow should be killed. Grandmother cried so much! It is interesting that the cow also cried. Its tears looked like hailstones. Probably its stomach gave it much pain, probably, it was poisoned by something when grazing.

My grandmother and grandfather made a small house for living of a former cattle-shed; they cut through a pair of windows. The floor was not wooden but made of daubed bricks - and there they lived for seven years, until the time when they left for Leningrad to live with their children. There was no synagogue in this collective farm, but as my grandfather was Levite, he prayed during every Jewish holiday, he put on his special clothes (something white) and a kippah and prayed. Old people came to his place; I remember it and I saw it. They came to him, because all holidays were celebrated at my grandfather’s - he was Levite, he belonged to Levites in some degree. I remember my grandfather specially dressed, praying, and everybody repeating after him. 

My grandfather and grandmother were remarkably kind. In the beginning of every summer their children came to them for vacation to have a rest and at the same time to help them earning trudodni (8) in the collective farm. I was taken there to spend summer with my grandmother and grandfather, to take fresh country air. Very often I went to my friends to play dolls, and grandfather and grandmother ran round the collective farm searching for me: where am I? After that my grandfather used to appear with a rod and usually said: «Now you will get disciplined with this rod!», and my grandmother covered me with her big body. So I never was disciplined this way.

By that time Ilya, my brother, was already 17 years old, when he came to the collective farm he mounted a horse and did not dismount all summer long. He also worked in the collective farm and liked it very much. He worked there also to help grandmother and grandfather to earn trudodni (8). There was no other way to earn money there.

In 1930 my father’s brother (he was a Red Army man of a certain military rank) and his wife moved to Leningrad, later they invited us to Leningrad. When I was about three years old (in 1930) all our family – my mum, daddy, my brother Ilya - moved to Leningrad, and we visited grandmother and grandfather in Crimea only in summer time until 1939, when they also moved to Leningrad.

In 1939 grandmother and grandfather also moved to Leningrad. They lived with the family of their senior son. His apartment was situated next to "Barrikada" movie theatre, at the corner of Nevsky prospect and Hertzen Street.

At first in Leningrad we lived at my aunt's, until we found a room near the Volkovsky cemetery as I remember, and then we found another room in Tverskaya street. When we lived near the Volkovsky cemetery, I was taken to a kindergarten and I immediately ran to play in a playpit. And the teacher, who admitted me to the kindergarten said to my daddy: «Well, she is still playing in a playpit!». I remember it. And later we moved to Tverskaya street (between Smolny and Tavrichesky garden) to a room in a six-room communal apartment (22 square meters). At that time my daddy fell ill with contagious tuberculosis. We lived in Tverskaya street for a long time.

Growing up

At the age of 6.5 I was sent to school. I already knew the multiplication table, I could read, but could write only with block-letter. I was admitted to school, it was my brother who brought me there. And at that time my mum took a job. I studied at school no. 12 (Smolninsky district), three pupils were sitting at every desk, because there were not enough schools. Later another school (no. 6) was built (at the corner of Krasnaya Konnitsa and Tverskaya Streets), and we were moved to this school.

In junior school I spent all my spare time at school. I used to come home, quickly made my home task - and went to school again. I was engaged in extracurricular activities. We had a pioneer room, different tasks, competitions. I also studied at art school, which was situated next to our house, and my mum did not know that I studied there. I went there myself, I showed them my drawings and they admitted me. But one day we were modelling something from clay and I cut my hand with a piece of glass, and then I gave up. I also studied to play piano (private tuition). At home we had a piano, but I did not want to play at home too much. Later I went to sing in a chorus in the Palace of Pioneers. In 1936 the Palace of Pioneers was opened and it was very difficult to get there for studying piano, so my mum sent me to the chorus, thinking that I would gradually pass to piano studies. At that time we were just able to make do. If we could have dinner and if we could have a piece of sausage with mashed potatoes or potatoes, the dinner was considered to be very good. We were just able to make do at that time and it was considered to be normal. At that time Torgsins (2) were still functioning. There my mum changed silver wine-glasses and forks from our home for money, to make our life a little bit easier.

In 1936 one floor of our school was occupied by Spanish children, they were brought from Spain. And our teachers taught both us and Spanish children. And near to school there was a two-storied building, where the Spanish children lived. At that time France was at war with Spain. They were wonderful, that Spanish children. Many of them stayed in Leningrad, some of them went back to Spain.

I remember that at school lessons I occupied the second desk. I was fond of mathematics. Leonid Zinovievich was our mathematics teacher, unfortunately I do not remember his surname. He also taught us at the Institute. We adored him. We studied by his tasks more than by textbooks. He liked me very much too, he always told: "When shall I get acquainted with your parents?". He called me "snub-nosed", I am not sure - am I snub-nosed? Anyway, he called me so.

Well, and at school I was a chairman of a pioneer group (rusme007.jpg), I always was a very active girl. I was very good in mathematics, I always prompted everyone, and Leonid Zinovievich shaked his ruler at me, forbidding. During the war Leonid Zinovievich got into anti-aircraft troops, he was a higher commander, and later after the war, he lived in Riga and taught mathematics at Nakhimov Naval School. At our school there was one good teacher more – Leonid Samoilovich – he taught us literature. He was a sort of absent-minded man, a Philisophy Doctor; he also gave lectures somewhere else except our school. He used to come into the classroom without his brief case and asked: "well, have a run around and look, where I left my brief case". It was not easy for me to write compositions at literature lessons, and he helped me, giving additional lessons. Our history teacher was very good too. We studied English language from the fifth form.

In 1930 I saw Sergei Mironovich Kirov (3) first-hand. When they were paving our street with asphalt, I remember, I took off my shoe and put my bare foot on this warm asphalt. Kirov was just passing by, and said: «It’s pleasant and warm, isn’t it?». I answered: «It is very pleasant». I remember this scene with Kirov in particular. I also saw him during his funeral in 1934, when they transported him from Smolny to Tavrichesky garden, where his coffin was put for farewell ceremony. We did not sleep, everyone was in our court yard, everyone was waiting for him being carried out from Smolny. It was impossible to get there – the same as during Stalin’s funeral ceremony: there were a lot of people in the streets. I even remember that at school a meeting was organized devoted to Kirov’s murder. In the morning they gathered us for a pioneer line and told us that he had been killed. On December 3 they took him away to Moscow, and at that time my brother (a son of my aunt, my aunt Ida, sister of my mum) was born – we lived with my aunt’s family. He was born in 1934 on December 3. And my aunt named him Miron in honour of Kirov, because everyone called Kirov simply “Mironych”, and not Sergei.

My mum turned up to work, when my brother had already been called up for military service. It happened when the war with Finland burst out in 1939. At that time he just entered the Institute. So, he left for army. Mother helped him pack his things and a bit later she turned up to work. As for me, in 1939 I was about 13 years old.

In 1940 my mum was arrested and imprisoned. She was called as a witness in the action against a bookkeeper (her collaborator), and she was released already in the war time. She was taken away from Leningrad. When she was released from prison, she got a job of seamstress right there, where she was exiled to (Nevyansk city in the Urals). My mum was a seamstress. She could sew underwear for men and women. My mum died in March 1942 because her health was exhausted. A woman, who lived in the same barrack with her, informed us about her death, she also informed us, that mother was released from prison because they had nothing on her.

Before the war I managed to finish 8 classes. And then the war burst out, almost all time of the siege  (4) we lived in Leningrad, and I often watched and extinguished falling fire-bombs, sitting in the garret with children of my age. Later, one day the bomb destroyed the internal wall of a house in my court yard, and everyone who lived on the first floor was killed. People who lived there, did not go to air-raid shelter, because they considered themselves to be protected (they lived under the arch), but the bomb fell down right there - directly downwards from above. All other floors crashed down upon this first floor. That day very many bombs were dropped down, almost each house in Tavricheskaya Street was destroyed. After that we moved to my aunt. Daddy found plywood somewhere and sealed the window, as after bombardment all houses lost windowpanes.

When the siege began, it was very distressing, I was hungry and stopped going to school. So, in 1942 I did not go to school, though it was open. I was starving and unable to go to school. My father lost 25 kgs. We slept very close to each other, and at night it often seemed that he was already dead. He was not enrolled because of contagious tuberculosis. He worked at the “Krasny Napilnik" factory in Obvodny embankment and left me alone in our municipal apartment, as he did not leave the factory for weeks. At that time I was 15 years old, and I lived alone in our large municipal apartment, all roomers of our apartment had already died by that time. Only one woman with a little girl (6-7 years old) still lived there. One morning I knocked at their door to take their food cards to help them receive bread. At that time people stood in line from 5 or 6 o’clock in the morning to receive their 125 grammes of bread (I received 125 g and my daddy - 250 g). By that time Bella (this woman’s name) did not leave her room any more, she grew weak. I knocked at their door, and nobody answered me. I entered their dark room (there was no electric light, everybody used oil-lamps) and saw Alya, that woman’s daughter lying on the bed beside her. Together with Alya we tried to wake her, but we found her dead. I took Alya with me and went to militia to inform them. I hoped to get militia’s assistance, but they refused. Then I found Bella’s relatives, who buried her. Friends took Alya away to the hospital named after Raukhfuss to treat her, but she died there very soon.

Half of our house was bombed out, and half of our windows were blocked up with plywood, we had toy stoves, and their chimneys were connected directly with fireplaces (our house had stoves-fireplaces – at that time there was no central heating). In the toy stoves we burnt everything we could find - I sawed chairs in pieces and burnt them. There was a small boxroom in the flat, where my neighbour kept boards (he was away for about 4 or 5 months). I took these boards and sawed them in pieces, because I was absolutely frozen. Daddy sewed valenki for me from felt, and I covered my head and hands with a blanket and walked along the streets. I walked this way: «I wish I could reach that drainpipe ...», - I spoke to myself. When I reached it, I stood still for a while. Then – the next drainpipe. When the bomb destroyed our house, I left for my aunt’s apartment (Miron’s mother), but I regularly visited our apartment. I crossed the Neva river (I went down to Neva near the Military Medical Academy), went up several meters and came to the apartment. We took water from the Neva River, I used sledge.

My cousin Miron (at that time he was 7 years old) and little Ilya (he was three years old) – children of Ida Levina (1908-1962), my aunt –– she also survived that terrible blockade time. My grandmother, Mindl Levina (1880s - 1942), and my grandfather, Yakov Levin (1880s - 1942) also stayed in Leningrad during the siege and died from starvation: grandfather died on March 3, 1942 and grandmother died on April 30 the same year. My aunt, Sofia Levina (1906-1942) died in July 1942. My uncle, Iosif Levin (1902-1980s) had a wife - my aunt Zina – she had a boy born in her first marriage. He died on December 15, he was about 15 years old. We used to be friends. His growing body did not endure the siege. Ella, their younger daughter, survived and together with Ella she was evacuated to Bashkiria, where we (together my daddy) also arrived in November 1942.

My uncle, my mum’s brother – Yosif Levin was a chief mechanical engineer at the factory of elastic technical products. In the beginning of March, after the death of my grandfather, Yakov Levin, he was in awful condition, because he could hardly bear starvation. They came to assist him in evacuation and carried him to the train carriage using stretcher. He was taken to Vologda (they were moved in carriages called «calf-sheds», because cattle had been transported in such carriages), and when their train reached Vologda (they were about 40 in it), most of them were taken out already dead. Only several people survived, and all of them were taken to a hospital. So, 2 or 3 months Yosif spent in the hospital of Vologda city. He sent no letters until summer, and we thought he had died on the way.

Ilya Melenevsky, my brother, who was called up in 1939, survived the war and returned home (to Leningrad) only in 1947, because after the end of the war his regiment was sent to Japan, in Manchzhuria. During the war we got no news about Ilya and only in 1945 we received a letter from him with a photo (rusme006.jpg) made in Mongolia, in a photographic studio. In this photo he is sitting at the table with a friend of his. On the back side of the photo he wrote: «There is nothing else to relieve the monotony here - sometimes we have to resort to cognac and champagne, though we dream about something else. Ilya. Moukdek. 1945».

During the war he was at Byelorussian at first, then at the 3rd Ukrainian and at the 4th Ukrainian fronts. Later, when Germans approached Ukraine, they retreated through Kerch, across that very strait, which is now talked over so much. And this is the way they fell back: at first my brother was a tankman, and later he became a driver of a «Willis» car. When retreating, he and his comrade (a guy from Eysk city) were ordered to take out all money from Kerch bank and hide it under water. While they were getting the money, while they were drowning it, our troops had already left Kerch. Then they unearthed two electrical poles, strapped them up and used them to sail acroos the Kerch strait to come up with their regiment.

On their way across the strait they were caught in a fishing net (the day before it was used by fishermen). Germans nipped at them, and our guys (several boats) got them out to save. And they saved them. But later our troops recaptured Kerch, and my brother found himself in Kerch again, and then they had to fall back from this city for the second time. Later he was at the 4th Ukrainian Front, in Romania and in Czechoslovakia. He finished war in Czechoslovakia. And that guy from Eysk they served together and sailed across that strait, was killed.

During the war

During the war I and my daddy knew nothing about Ilya. Absolutely nothing. Probably because there was no communication with Leningrad. And only after the end of the war when we returned to Leningrad and I entered the Institute, we suddenly received a letter from him from Czechoslovakia. By that time he got to know from our relatives in Kiev (capital of Ukraine) that we had survived and lived in Leningrad. He arrived in Kiev making a military business trip and visited Yosif Kipniss, my mum’s uncle at their apartment, where they used to live before the war. He entered their apartment and they rushed towards him, shouted, cried, embraced him – so delighted they were to see him and and so glad they were for my and for daddy’s sake. You know, we knew nothing about Ilya for many years and wrote about it to my uncle Yosif, so it was he who informed Ilya that we were in Leningrad and that we had already returned from evacuation.

My uncle Yosif Kipniss had a son Grigoriy Kipniss (rusme008.jpg). When the war broke out, Grigoriy was called up to the army and several years my uncle and my aunt knew nothing about him, the same way as we knew nothing about Ilya for a long time. It happened that Grigoriy was taken prisoner, and when Germans drived a column of captives Grigoriy managed to escape. He rolled down into a ditch imperceptibly for guards and waited until the column passed away. So this is the way he escaped. He was picked up by natives – an old man and an old woman, they took him home and cured him. They also advised him to change his Jewish surname Kipnis – so, he became Kipnichenko. These old people kept him at themselves, fed and protected him, probably, they also had a son who was at war somewhere. Grigoriy started working at the railway station as Kipnichenko Grigoriy (he managed to get registered officially somehow, though Germans played the master everywhere).

Soon partisans got in touch with him. At their request Grigoriy procured some kind of documents while working at this station. These documents were named somehow in German, something like a certificate, used to be given to a person as an evidence of his registration. Thus he saved many people. One day there came some people from partisans and told him, that he had to leave for partisans, because Germans were going to take all people of his age away to Germany. So he was taken away to a partisans group, and after that he went on fighting as a menber of the partisan group.

When partisans came close to Kiev, Grigoriy was sent to patrol, because Kiev was occupied by Germans. And there he decided to visit his apartment. He found out that his apartment was occupied by a German henchman, who informed Germans, in Russian this sort of people are called “third ear”. Grigoriy had a scrap with him, promissed to come back and went to carry out partisans’ mission. Grigoriy’s former home help, Natasha, saw him visiting his apartment, and later she saw that henchman informing police about Grigoriy’s arrival and his promise to return. And as she adored Grigoriy, she hurried to meet him far away from his house to inform about police lying in wait for him. That was the way he was saved once again. Later their partisans’ group joined our front-line forces.

For a long time Grigoriy’s parents knew nothing about him and wrote letters just in case that somebody could respond or see Grigoriy. And when their partisans’ group went through Dnepropetrovsk (a city in Ukraine), Grigoriy visited apartment of his mum’s sister, but unknown people already lived there and they knew from letters that Grigoriy had been searched by his relatives. These people were glad to see him, as if he was their relative, and they informed him about the letters and gave him the address of his parents. Grigoriy wrote to his parents, informed that he was at front-line forces alive and in good health.

At that time we were already in Bashkiria, in evacuation, when we received a letter from Yosif Kipniss, my uncle, with joyful news that Grigoriy had been found alive. Later my aunt told, that she received a lot of letters of gratitude from people saved by Grigoriy.

Almost all time of the siege we stayed in Leningrad, but in November 1942 we were evacuated from Leningrad - they took us away across Ladoga Lake. We left for Bashkiria ("White Lake" railway station, Tobynsk village - 6 kms far from the station), which my aunt left for earlier. She had written a letter therefrom and was waiting for us there. So we also left for Bashkiria, where we spent 1.5 years till 1944, though the blockade of Leningrad was raised in the middle of 1943.

There, in Bashkiria, I finished school. When a schoolgirl, I joined Komsomol organization and became a secretary of the school Komsomol group (5). There I got acquainted with Nina, who studied in the same school and became my school-friend. Most of all I liked mathematics, and they did not teach English language at this school, only German. Therefore I studied English by correspondence, I had to go to my teacher in Krasnouralsk, which was situated not far away. I translated topics she gave me and went to see her for reporting. In Krasnousolsk my daddy got a job at glass-works. Some time I also earned additionally by sewing in Tobynsk. Nina Lavrova, my neighbour, mother of my school-friend tought me sewing. She was a dressmaker, and as we spent all our free time at their place, I got learned. When her customers came to try on dresses, she said: "Shura, go home" - because I said what I saw without fail – I pointed out places where the dress sat awkwardly or badly. But looking at her, I learned to sew and later in Bashkiria I earned money by sewing. I sewed dresses. For example, girls helped to tump potatoes, and I made dresses for them. Even when I studied in the Institute, I earned additionally by sewing – I made blouses. At that time it was difficult to buy this sort of things. But I did not get money, they gave me something else.

The war was not finished yet when we left there - in 1944. Daddy was sent on a business trip to a Leningrad suburb to a glass-works. Being in Leningrad, he visited our apartment and managed to get an invitation for us for return (at that time it was possible to return to Leningrad only on invitation). He came back to Bashkiria to help us moving to Leningrad. He took all of us: me, my aunt, Miron. Later daddy helped Nina to move to Leningrad, and she studied at the same Institute with me, and we were very good friends, and her mum loved me very much.

After the war

I finished school in Bashkiria as an excellent pupil and I got in the First Medical Institute without examinations. To tell the truth, at first I did not know, where to study. I wanted to enter the  Shipbuilding Institute. At that time the Shipbuilding Institute was situated near the Admiralty factory. I arrived there, but I lacked some necessary document, and I was told to come again the next day. I also visited the Architectural Institute, they told me to bring my drawings. The next day I went out to hand over documents to an Institute, but which one - I did not know. I was standing at the corner of Sadovaya Street and Nevsky Prospect and waiting for a tram to go to the Admiralty. And the tram was not coming for a long while. I decided to take the first tram I saw. And the first one to come was no. 3 – so I understood that I had to go to Petrogradskaya side where the Medical Institute was situated. My daddy wanted me to become a physician very much. So, I went to Petrogradskaya side and came to the Medical Institute. In 1944 all Institutes suffered from shortage of students, and the Medical Institute had already stopped receiving applications, so they accepted my documents only because I had finished school as an excellent pupil. "Well, if you have only excellent marks, you can pass in your documents" – they told me. So, I did it, came home and started crying: "Daddy, take away my documents, I do not want to study in the Medical Institute!".

But as it couldn't be helped, I went to the Institute. At that time it was difficult to get there: a lot of people everywhere, not enough transport. In order to reach Petrogradskaya side you had to find a place on footboard of a tram. And on my second day I arrived to the Institute having turned my ankle on my way. Again I sent my daddy to take away my documents, but he did not go. I missed a month of studies. And there, in the Institute, they chose me to be a monitor of the group in my absence. So I was a group monitor for five years, the girls were nice to me, so all in all I graduated from the Institute. When I finished the Institute, I had general speciality - at that time there were no particular specialities.

After graduation from the Institute, I got an appointment to Kazakhstan, to Karaganda city. My daddy died, when I was a four-year student. Certainly, if he was alive, they would not send me anywhere, because he was very sick. My daddy, Yakov Melenevsky (1895-1948) died suddenly from a heart attack in 1948.

So we together with Tatyana Tikhomirova, my institute-mate, were sent to Karaganda, in Shakhtinsky district of Karaganda, I worked there 4 years to the day. We lived in a hostel together with her. We lived in a barrack, but nevertheless we lived in a city, it was possible to go to a theater by car. There, in Karaganda guys from the Moscow Medical Institute worked, and we all got acquainted there. Tanya was sent to work in hospital as a general practitioner, and I was sent to a maternity home. The maternity home was also situated in a barrack. I became a gynaecologist. Near our maternity home the banished Vlasov military (6) were building a new one. In this city there lived people who were banished acording to clause 58 (a political clause of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation). For example, there was a person, who had invented fuel for space flights. By that time he was already unprisoned and worked as a drugstore director. There were so-called Karlags (Karaganda camps), where a lot of people were kept, and Vlasov military were kept there too. A friend of Chizshevsky worked as a coachman at our maternity home, and Chizshevsky (an inventor of Chizshevsky lamp, which had medical properties) was a stableman. When I worked there in election committee, there worked an English journalist – she was considered to be a spy. Even ministers were kept there.

A barrack is a one-storeyed house, long, with rooms and a corridor - we had our own large room. We cooked in the kitchen, and our cleaner heated the barrack. In our hostel there lived girls who worked at the mine. Toilet was outside the barrack. And across the street there was a Communist Party district committee and we used their toilet – it was a little bit cleaner. In the house there was water supply, but it gave not enough water. All inhabitants were frequently sick with dysentery, including me. When we made biochemical analysis of water, there were found as many microbes as in excrements. And this water fell down from the tap in drops. All night we collected water to use it in the day time.

So I worked in the maternity home 4 years. There were many women going to give birth, so we both assisted in delivery and operated, on the whole we worked normally and were happy – you know, we were young. Sometimes we gathered together, drank wine. Everyone considered us to be very good girls, but when we dragged heavy bags full of bottles empty of wine, people began to doubt, whether we were so good girls. We often invited guests, because we had the largest room, and everyone came to visit us - we lived in the center and really liked to act as hosts. Every holiday - New Year, the 1st of May – we celebrated in our room. In spite of all this, I wished to return home so much – sometmes at night I went to make a telephone call to my aunt Ida, and it kept me awake - I missed home very much, I wanted to get back to Leningrad.

I did not miss the sudden opportunity to return home. Our chief medical officer was going to give birth to her third child, she was going to leave, but it was necessary to repair our maternity home. She told me, that if I managed to arrange repair works in her absence, she would let me go to Leningrad. So, the chief medical officer left, it was necessary to repair the maternity home - but where to assist in delivery in case of repair? We tried to do it at home, but it appeared to be absolutely impossible. Midwifes came from home accouchements and complained that houses of Kazakh women were dirty, there was no water and it was absolutely impossible to assist in delivery normally.

And then I started visiting the Communist Party district committee every morning to ask the first secretary about temporary premises for our maternity home. Every morning I came to see him in his study and every day I explained him our problem. I asked him to put at our disposal a house, where we could work temporarily, until our maternity home was under repair. I explained him that it was impossible to assist in delivery at home. I promised that we would put the house in order by ourselves; we only did not want to assist in delivery at home. At last I managed. They gave us an empty house. A glazier was invited for glass-work. The girls whitewashed everything inside and repaired stoves. And we started working in this house temporarily converted into a maternity home. Everyone was tickled pink.

Among the operating personnel deported from Volga, Crimea, Ukraine there were a lot of Germans. They served at me as interpreters - in case a German woman who was not able to speak Russian came to the maternity home. Or girls, who worked before in the area where Kazakhs lived, and could speak Kazakh language, translated from Kazakh language if there was brought a bleeding woman in childbirth from home delivery. So, I fight against bleeding, the woman stays at my clinic, but she can not understand Russian. And those girls, who worked earlier in Kazakh villages, "worked" for me as interpreters.

This was the way I worked 4 years - from September 1949 till September 1953. However when Stalin died, I still was there, in Kazakhstan. At that time all of us were agitated with the so-called «Doctors’ case» (7). I was distressed about it very much, because it was necessary to operate much. Therefore since then, I started fulfilling every prescription myself, involving nobody else. We had perfect midwives; they were German women, deported from Crimea where they had finished a school for midwives. After leaving that school they signed a statement to marry never (it was required) and to devote their life to this noble work. They had neither husbands, nor children, and they were midwives of a high class. At first, when I confronted with difficult cases or pathology, they stood near by and prompted me what was necessary to do. As for me, I was still a girl, there was no specialization in the Institute, and I demonstrated slight knowledge. I remember that the «turn around the leg» they prompted me right during the childbirth - I did not know the way to do it.

At that time my acquaintances from the Communist Party district committe were forcing me to join the Communist Party, but I did not want it very much. It was not because I did not believe in the Party, but because they did not let Party members go home. If you are a Party member – please be sure to give your life as a sacrifice for the Party. And I wanted to be back home to Leningrad again. 
 
So I managed to finish repair of our maternity home, and the chief medical officer, Vera Philimonovna, let me go home. She told nobody about it. I did nothing but left for vacation and never returned. I was very grateful to her for her active help. We have been corresponding for a long time, and one day she came to visit me.

After my arrival to Leningrad, I found my brother Ilya living in the same room, in Tverskaya Street. We shared our room with him equally, put a wood partition, papered it, and I got registered already in my separate room, where I have been living for several years more. By that time my brother got married and Yakov Melenevsky, his son, was born.

Having made a look around, I started searching for a job. Not right away, but I managed to get a job in a maternity home of Zshdanovsky district (Shchorsa Street, 13). I worked there for a short time. Later I was suggested to work in maternity home of Kirovsky district (Oboronnaya Street, 35), where a T.B. prophylactic centre is now situated. Later a maternity home in Marshala Govorova Street was opened, and I worked there for 18 years. I left it only when Mikhail (my son) was already a school boy.

My future husband was introduced to me by my friends. A son of my mother’s friend was his coworker. They did it on purpose, because they were very upset that I was single. My husband, Nickolay Zaichik (1920-1994) studied at Jewish school for 3 years when he lived in Byelorussia (he was born in Ptich settlement, in Byelorussia) - there was no Russian school there. Probably therefore he was respectful to Jewish literature, he subscribed for a “Gimlein” magazine in Jewish language - by the way, he subscribed for it to support this magazine financially - he never read it.

He arrived in Leningrad to enter a technical school. We got acquainted, when he had already graduated from the Institute. I married late, and he married late too. There was a party devoted to November 7; there was a concert in the Cultural Centre for Firemen. We got acquainted with Nikolay, we danced much that evening - he was very good in dancing. It happened on the eve of a holiday, on November 5 or 6. There was a holiday next day, and he told, that he would come to visit me. And he came, really. I got prepared for his visit - I liked him very much. I set a good and sumptuous table. As a matter of fact, I had boyfriends, but I liked Nikolay very much. When he came, we had a lounge for a while, had a talk, and soon Nikolay left, explaining that he had to visit his relative in a hospital. He left and disappeared for two months till the end of December – he gave no telephone call. And only before the New Year day, several days before the holiday, Nikolay suddenly made a telephone call to the maternity home. He said he would like to meet me. I answered that in general I did not object, I was only afraid not to recognize him, because I had not seen him for a long time (that was my way to be sarcastic). Certainly, we met with him, and it turned out that he had been urgently sent away on a business trip to Sakhalin Island for these two months. At that time he worked in Giprorybflot (the State Research Institute for Fishing Fleet) and they put him out to sea for two months on board a fishing-boat.

We decided to meet at the corner of Nevsky prospect and Sadovaya Street. We had a walk in the center and agreed to celebrate New Year's Eve together in the company of his friend's colleagues. And on December 31 Nikolay came to my place, brought a lot of canned food – at that time it was unknown to us here in Leningrad. For the holiday I baked a pie with lemon and bought some tangerines. We met and went to New Year’s Eve party. We did not get a hearty welcome, we were acquainted with nobody, except Ludmila and Egor (Egor was Nikolay’s coworker) and we decided to leave. Nikolay arranged a car, Egor told the host that his wife was suddenly seized with headache, and excusing ourselves this way, we left for my place. And all the night long we celebrated New Year's Eve enjoying ourselves. In the morning I had to go for day-and-night duty to the maternity home, and Nikolay escorted me to the door.

Broadly speaking, this meeting was a key one for our acquaintance. We were going about with him for some time, and then we decided to arrange a wedding trip, before registering our marriage. We went to Pena Lake (Kalininsky oblast) - a midwife of our hospital lived there and invited us to visit her to have a rest. Nikolay was a true fisherman, and she told there was a lot of fish and smart mushroom places. And really, we had a very good rest there. And when we came back home, in September, we registered our marriage. That is why our family life started right before our marriage. Our friends were very much pleased with our marriage and on the day of our wedding (they were in the South of the country on the day of our wedding) they sent us a phototelegram with a playful congratulation with a series of unambigious drawings (rusme009.jpg). 

After wedding Nikolay moved to my room in Tverskaya Street, my son, Mikhail Zaichik was born there in 1963. And when Mikhail was 3 years old, Nikolay received an apartment order from Giprorybflot – an Institute, where he worked as a deputy chief engineer. At that time this Institute was situated somewhere in Apraksin Dvor and it got money for purсhasing a house in Gogolya Street. They moved all tenants of this house to other apartments, and this house in Gogolya Street became a property of Giprorybflot. But the administration officers of the Institute still had money in reserve and they bought apartments for those employees who waited for apartments for a long time. This was the way we received our present apartment. At present we still live in this apartment together with my son Mikhail after the death of my husband.

Unfortunately by now I lost many relatives. My brother Ilya died in Israel (he left for Israel in 1991), only my sister-in-law (a wife of my brother) is still alive – she is sick with cancer and undergoes chemotherapy. She lives in Israel.



Glossary:

1. Petliura, Simon (1879-1926): Ukrainian politician, member of the Ukrainian Social Democratic Working Party, one of the leaders of Centralnaya Rada (Central Council), the national government of Ukraine (1917-1918). Military units under his command killed Jews during the Civil War in Ukraine. In the Soviet-Polish war he was on the side of Poland; in 1920 he emigrated. He was killed in Paris by the Jewish nationalist Schwarzbard in revenge for the pogroms against Jews in Ukraine.

2. 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 of the country.

3. 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.

4. 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.

5. 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.

6. Vlasov military: Members of the voluntary military formations of Russian former prisoners of war that fought on the German side during World War II. They were led by the former Soviet general, A. Vlasov, hence their name.

7. 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.

8. Trudodni – a measure of work used in Soviet collective farms until 1966. A specific economic category caused by specific historical conditions of collective-farm manufacturing. Working one day it was possible to earn from 0.5 up to 4 trudodni. In autumn when the harvest was gathered the collective farm administration calculated the cost of 1 trudoden in money or food equivalent (basing upon the profit). It was used until 1966.

Milka Ilieva

Milka Samuel Ilieva
Ruse 
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Patricia Nikolova 
Date of interview: September 2004

Milka Samuel Ilieva is a cordial, sociable and calm person. Her restless spirit, however, was a witness to stormy and contradictory political and life turning events. Her sense of humor as well as her natural kindness have saved her many times from the despair that awaited her at every single step. So many nuances of the Jewish character and Jewish spirit are reflected in her life story, that it looks more like a screenplay than real life. That’s why her words are wise, precise and sincere. Her jokes keep hidden a lot of unarticulated grief and hidden bitterness. 

I’m a descendant of a Jewish family from the Sephardi 1 branch that came from Spain more than five centuries ago. As is well known, most of the Jews expelled by the Spanish Queen Isabella in the 15th century settled on the Balkan Peninsula 2. My ancestors had a similar fate. Unfortunately, I know almost nothing about my grandparents, because they died before I was born. And what’s more, I made the mistake of not asking my parents for details about them. However, I know that my parents, Ventura Samuel Mashiakh and Samuel Moshe Mashiakh, were born in Nis, Macedonia [Editor’s note: Nis is in today’s Serbia and Montenegro.]. They met in Nis and then the two families, Shamli and Mashiakh, decided to move together to Sofia. So it was in the Bulgarian capital that my parents got married, in 1910.

We were a merry big family of ten members. Eight of us were only the kids: five sisters and three brothers. Mois was the first, born in 1911, followed by Ester in 1913, then Albert in 1915, Nissim in 1917, Sara in 1920, Venezia in 1922, Jina in 1925 and lastly I was born in 1928. We lived poorly, I would say, but our life was very spiritual and amusing despite this. What’s for sure is that we never lacked a sense of humor.

My father was very religious, but we, the kids, didn’t manage to preserve this religious spirit. Our life made us atheists. Maybe this was because we lived in poverty and everyone in the family had to start working at a very early age. Our life was hard; we saw all the injustice around us and that provoked a strong social sense in us rather than a religious one. But at least when we were young we observed all the Jewish holidays with my father. He used to tell us a lot about them. We strictly observed the kashrut at home on Pesach, and on the eve of this great holiday, all of us used to help my mother with the big cleaning up. [Editor’s note: She probably means that they had a traditional kosher meal for Pesach and maybe other holidays too but didn’t observe the ritual rules for the rest of the year.] Nobody was allowed to bring bread home during Pesach. As a matter of fact, there were no religious books in Ivrit [Hebrew] at home. I have also no information on whether my father was a member of a Zionist organization, although he must have been a convinced Zionist. What’s more important, the Jewish rituals observed on high Jewish holidays made our family really united.

I’ll never forget how we used to celebrate Purim. There was a very nice song for Purim of whose origin I know nothing. The specific point about it was that every new stanza began with a letter in accordance with the order of the Hebrew alphabet. My sister Sara sang it marvelously. On Purim my father would always tell her, ‘Sarika, please, kerida… [‘dear’ in Ladino] and she would start singing. The feeling was remarkable. I remember visiting Sara in her kibbutz during my last journey to Israel in 1990. I cannot recall the name of her kibbutz. Her job was to patch up clothes on a machine and the people loved her. So we, the three sisters, went to see her. I remember she lived in a small neat room; she also had a toilet and office in her room. Well, I went to her and asked her, ‘Sister, please, sing the first stanza of our favorite Purim song.’ She was 80 then. When she started singing something happened to me. I rushed out of the room in tears; I just couldn’t stop crying. I remember we were a very warm, united, extraordinary family.

After my mother gave birth to me, she got paralyzed from rheumatism. She sat on a chair and was no longer able to stand up. Then they decided to ‘sell me’ to some rich relatives of my mother, her cousins. In those days it was routine for the poor and fertile Jewish families to give one of their children, usually the youngest one, to a relative childless family. In exchange, the well-off family offered financial support to the poor one. As far as I know they were trading with clothes. Since my mother was paralyzed, a woman had to come to wash and swaddle me. My brother Nisso [Nissim] helped her do that. He was eleven years old then. Once he came back from school and saw a car in front of the house. Let me mention that it was 1928. Automobiles weren’t a usual thing to see even in the capital. Right at this moment, they were preparing the baby’s napkins at home to give me to these people.

My brother entered and shouted, ‘Mother! What’s that car doing here?’ Are you going to separate us? Don’t give Milka away! I’ll fill my pockets with pebbles and I’ll break this car’s windows, mind you…’ And he started filling his pockets with pebbles. And it was exactly what my mother had waited for, ‘We will not give her, go away, that’s it!’ That’s how she abandoned her decision.

Another curious fact is that all the children from my family studied in Bulgarian schools. It was only me who studied in the Jewish school, because my parents had decided firmly to send me to Israel, where my father’s sister planned to adopt me. It was a normal thing in the Jewish families then; if some of the relatives are childless, the next of kin, who have many children, give one of theirs to them so that the childless family may bring it up as their own. I was the youngest and because of that, they decided to give me to my father’s sister. This never happened, though.

My maternal grandparents were Avram Shamli, and I don’t know my grandmother’s name. I know really nothing about them. Most probably, they were poor. My paternal grandparents, however, Moshe and Venezia Mashiakh were well off. I know that they set up a sugar processing plant when they emigrated to what was then Palestine in 1930. They produced chocolate sweets there. That’s all I know about them.

My mother was something like a martyr for me. She took great care of us, but we were eight children in the family. Although she was illiterate she always knew how to be kind to us, how to bring us up, what to feed us, so that we would be healthy. She was strict about cleanliness despite the poverty in which we lived. It was easy for an infection to spread, as we were many people in the family. She would take us to public baths at least two times every week, either to the one on Slivnitsa Boulevard in our district, or to the central public baths near the city’s central market hall. Wednesdays and Fridays, just before Sabbath, were the bath days. We had to wash our hands, legs, necks and faces every time we entered the house. My sister Sarika [Sara] often bathed us in a washtub in the yard on Wednesdays. My mother had her do this and she took it as a very important obligation. She used to rub us to death, as if we were as filthy as pigs. That raised bursts of laughter. 

I remember market days in Sofia very well. On the eve of Sabbath, on Fridays, I would always accompany my mother when she set off to the market. I’m speaking of Georgi Kirkov 3 market that’s still functioning in the [then] Sofia residential district Iuchbunar 4. [Today this market is called ‘zhenskia Pazar,’ meaning ‘woman’s market.’ It is the central open market of Sofia.] For me it was the greatest pleasure in the world. My mother liked shopping for long hours; she also loved bargaining with the sellers. Then I helped her bring the products home. All the sellers were my favorite. The mere abundance of vegetables, oranges, tangerines, and everything made me feel happy. 

As I’ve already mentioned I can’t recall anything about my father’s parents. I only know that when they moved from Nis to Sofia they built a huge house for my parents. So, the whole family – the eight kids, my parents, and my father’s parents, lived together in this house. Our house was situated in the poor Jewish district Iuchbunar near Bet Am 5 and the [Great] Synagogue 6. We lived on Odrin Street, while the Jewish school was nearby, at the corner of Osogovo and Bregalnitsa Streets. The yard of our house was also big. We didn’t breed animals but we had a bungalow there that we let out. My eldest brother lived there for some time when he got married, just before the Law for the Protection of the Nation 7 was introduced. Our house was really big, according to the criteria of the time. If we look at it now, it’s just a normal two-storey building.

There were three rooms on the ground floor, and a wooden staircase led to the upper floor where there were two rooms: a bigger and a smaller one. All the eight kids slept in the big one. The smaller one was for my parents. My parents slept in one bed, my brothers in two beds and we, the four sisters, had two mattresses, each of us had a special place one after the other according to our age. Directly on the floor. My place was at one of the ends of the mattresses, since I was born last. And because it was difficult for me to get sleep, I often crept into my parents’ room and I slept underneath their bed. Usually, everyone got up early in the morning, and began to look for me. Finally, they understood I liked sleeping underneath my parents’ bed. I must have been five or six years old then.

I remember that we used to read a lot at home. And we always sang when we went to bed, when we got up, when we felt bad, when we were happy – we always sang. We had arranged our own family choir; there were ten of us after all. We sang in two parts. The second part was of course for men, and we, the women sang the first part. I remember, for example, that my eldest brother was a tenor. My sister Sara was an incredible soprano and could have had a professional career in music, if she had had the opportunity. The others were altos. My parents also took part in our singing. So, without any exaggeration our choir sounded beautiful.

I remember that in our yard a big and picturesque willow grew. During summers, my family used to install a table below the tree and we had our meals there every day. And when we finished with the food, we cleared the table and started singing the most beautiful songs we knew. We sang in Ladino and in Bulgarian. We sang [Bulgarian] folk songs: ‘Kito, girl’ and the now so-called ‘old city songs’ which were in fact modern Bulgarian chansons, called ‘Bufoon’s song.’ We also sang traditional [Ladino] Jewish songs: ‘Adio kerida’ [Goodbye darling], ‘Ande stavne amor?’ [Where are you my love?], ‘Nigna sos de basha djente’ [Girl, you are of an inferior birth], ‘Ken me va tomar a mi?’ [Who is going to marry me?], etc. Of course, my mother knew many songs in Ladino. Mind you, my parents were from Nis, so they knew also many Macedonian songs. [Editors note: Nis is located in Serbia, not in Macedonia.] From Macedonian ones, my favourite was ‘Zapali se Shar Planina’ [The Shar Mountain Started Burning], especially when my mother sang it.

These days I have discovered a hidden, inherited talent in me. I need to hear a song only once to remember it. Every spring, when Pesach was nearing, my mother used to beat out all the carpets, brush and wash everything. She had the furniture taken out, leaving only a table and a chair in the house so that she may reach the ceiling more easily. And she herself painted it. From as young as I can remember, I used to stay around to help her. I carried a bucket of paint, dipped the brushes and then handed them to her. And she would sing all the time. I would remember all her songs. She used to sing as much in Ladino as in Macedonian dialect.

This talent of mine was, however, as much an advantage as it was a disadvantage. I remember Uncle Avram who liked playing tricks on the people around him. He earned his living by making flypapers. Uncle Avram knew that I remembered every song from the first hearing and once decided to play a trick on me. He called me to teach me, say, a very beautiful song. I was quite small and quite enthusiastic about all that. I was eight or nine years old then. He started singing a ribald song and I didn’t know what it was about, ‘Lies down Lola under the quilt, what to say I know not of.’ I came back home and still being at the door I started singing it, content that I had just learned it. My brother, who had never beaten me all my life, slapped me in the face immediately. I got scared and started crying, ‘What’s that for? Why are you beating me?’ And he said, ‘You shouldn’t sing everything you hear from Uncle Avram!’ And he was right. At the same time, my sister Vinka [Venezia] sang an old chanson, it was a popular tune of the time, ‘I live to lo-o-o-ve…’ - very popular it was. And so I started singing it at the top of my voice the following day, ‘I li-i-i-i-ve to lo-o-o-ove.’ It was ridiculous.

The songs I knew in Ivrit I’d learned in Hashomer Hatzair 8. We used to sing a lot there, too. There was a very nice song. It began with, ‘O, ani-i-i itayavti, itaya-avti-i-i…’ We were taught to sing polyphonic music so that it sounded really beautiful. We were divided into two groups. When the first group, consisting of boys, started singing alone the whole first stanza and in the moment when they began the second stanza with a slightly different melody, the second group joined, starting from the beginning and singing simultaneously with the first one. And it always turned out very nice. I remember us singing songs like: ‘Ine ma tov uma naim shevet achim gam yachad’ [literally from Ivrit: ‘how nice and cozy it is, brothers, staying together’], or: ‘Sham baerev…’ [From Ivrit: ‘There, in the evening…’], and so on. It was a wonderful time.  

It wasn’t by chance that I mentioned Hashomer Hatzair. When I was as young as seven, I was a member in this Jewish youth organization. I remember very clearly that as early as 1935 Hashomer Hatzair looked after the poor kids, among whom I was, too. We were all from the poor Jewish neighborhood of Iuchbunar. Our fathers were workmen. We studied at the Jewish school where we received free coats and shoes because of our poverty. We were supported economically there, while in Hashomer Hatzair the help was spiritual. And this was more important. They helped us grow up as personalities. This organization gave a meaning to my life. They not only recommended us what to read, I’m speaking of literature with very high artistic values, but also excellently entertained us with games stimulating the sense of unity in our community. Besides, the older boys and girls played the violin for us, so that we could get acquainted with music. For example, the well-known musician Klara Pinkas often played the violin for us.

We studied astronomy as well. And when we turned twelve we started studying Horel’s ‘Sex Question’ [It was then the most popular and highly respected reading for adolescents.] and let me say, not in separated groups of boys and girls, but all together. To put it in other words, they taught us to be friends, and to be united. It often happened that we gathered all our money, about a lev or two per child, and ‘ahot’ [sister in Hebrew] Karola, the girl who was looking after us, she had to make sure we observed the required discipline and she also taught us, distributed them: ‘This is for cinema, this for sweets, and this is for ‘Shkembe Chorba’ [tripe-soup, non-kosher].’ We all loved this Oriental meal.  

All my friends then were Jewish girls, whom I was with at the Jewish school and Hashomer Hatzair: Mati Yomtov, Sarika Shamli, Dora Benvenisti and others. Afterwards they left for Israel and since then we have met by chance, well advanced in years, and we have even made out who was who. But back in my childhood years, I was always with them. We had a favorite game called ‘semanei derekh’ [literally from Ivrit: ‘traffic signs’]. We walked in Borisova Garden, the big park in Sofia’s suburbs [today this park is in the city center] separated in groups. The first group had to start before the second one, they walked and from time to time they had to put some signs, for example arrows made out of twigs, to show the direction, or they made some kind of a funny obstacle. Or they improvised a swastika, again made of twigs that meant ‘danger.’ And the ‘danger’ turned out to be a puddle for instance. Or they drew a square and a number in it with chalk. If the number was ten for example the second group had to seek for something hidden at a distance of ten steps from the square. We sought, sought and finally found pink sweets wrapped in a paper.

We often went to the Byalata Voda area, which is on Vitosha [a mountain near Sofia]. We were scouts there. We were separated into two groups: boys and girls. And we arranged fantastic competitions. We ran with our legs in sacks. Liko [Eliu] Seliktar was irreplaceable as an organizer of these games. We were taught how to light a fire in open nature, how to cook and so on. My childhood was absolutely calm. Up to the moment when the Germans invaded Bulgaria and the Law for the Protection of the Nation and the Law for the Protection of the State were introduced.

My father was a brush-maker. He made special shoe brushes and brushes for clothes. In fact, he did the hard work of the brush-making handicraft. When I was a child, I often saw him drilling holes in a board with a drill, where the threads were to be fixed after that. And this board was very thin and delicate and a single false movement could have broken it. But he was a master. I know that the owner of the workshop for brushes on Nis Street, where my father worked, was called Persiodo [Precious]; he was а Jew, too, but I can’t remember his first name now. That’s why he paid my father a substantial amount. His daily wage was 100 levs. Every day at lunchtime, when I was back from school, I carried to my father the meal that my mother had prepared for him. I took home the empty dishes and he would give me his wage to take home to my mother and always gave me a lev. These simple things made every day a holiday for me.

Apart from being a great master, my father was also a very good man. He never slapped any of his children. And he sang beautifully. I adored him. Every day when he came back home I used to wait for him with a basin filled with hot water, because he worked standing all day long and his legs got swollen. I always expected him eagerly and when I saw him approaching with five loaves of rye bread in his hands I rushed and gladly grabbed the bread. After that we used to go to my parents’ room on the second floor. There my father dipped his legs into the hot water and I washed them for him. I was a young child then. This procedure was repeated every single day. I loved him very much, and he loved me, too.

I lost my father very early. He died on 31st December 1939. The reason for his death was that he had a lot of stress then. My sister Ester was to get married. She had match-makers who had found her a boy. In those days, however, it was a big problem for Jewish girls to get married. Every Jewish girl had to have a trousseau, a big trousseau, let me say. But a girl also had to have dowry. And we were poor. My father loved my sister so much that he bought her a ‘Singer’ sewing machine [a very popular one for its time; German sewing machine], he made her a big trousseau and gave her 30,000 levs in dowry, which was a huge amount of money then. And that brought him to ruins. He had taken a loan from ‘Geula’ bank and when the policies started to arrive, he got sick. They threatened to throw out our belongings into the street, take our house and so on. His anxiety created a tumor in his stomach. They told him it was non-malignant, but he had to undergo an operation. And he didn’t want to. So that’s how he passed away. When my father died and the policies continued coming, my sister exchanged her wedding ring at a pawnshop for some money to pay at least the first policy. From then on we lived in complete poverty, especially during the Law for the Protection of the Nation, but somehow we stoically coped with everything. 

I remember very well the Sofia Jews’ demonstration in protest to the government’s decision for interning us 9. It was on 24th May 1943 10. At that time I was already 15 years old, but I was not a member of the Union of Young Workers 11, in contrast to my sister Jina, who was. Well, on this day I was just walking down Klementina Square with my sister Jina when we met acquaintances from the Jewish community. They informed us that they were going to organize a manifestation addressed to King Boris III 12 and against his decision for our internment. After that, the whole Jewish community gathered in the synagogue. And our procession started from there to Klementina Square. We reached Father Paisii Street, near Bet Am. And suddenly mounted police appeared in front of us. A severe scrimmage followed while we, the kids, fled away in all directions. I remember that I started running from Father Paisii Street and I stopped as far as Osogovo Street, in the Jewish school. Then I hid with a friend of mine. The police started visiting the Jewish families, from house to house, and they arrested all the Jewish men. Not before long, they interned us. 

Our internment was painful. We were each given the right to carry with us only 30 kilograms of luggage. We left for the railway station in order to catch the train to Shumen, where we were to be interned. It was my mother, Vinka, Jina and me. The other two sisters, Ester and Sara, had already been married: in Stara Zagora and in Sofia respectively; while my brothers were sent to forced labor camps 13. When we arrived in Shumen, several hundreds of Jews, we among them, were accommodated at the local school’s gym-hall. And a commune cauldron of food was installed there.

In that confusing situation, we were sitting desperately, my mother, my sisters and I, in the gym-hall’s crowd, when Vinka, who was 20 then already, took the initiative and said, ‘Mum, we won’t live here.’ And we started asking for lodgings. So we came across some Turks who lived near the Tumbul mosque [the main mosque in Shumen, built in 1744, also the largest in the Balkans]. It was just opposite the local Jewish school. Well, these Turks told us they could accommodate us in one of their rooms upstairs. We were six of us in that room: my mother, we, the three sisters, and one of my mum’s cousins with her daughter. We immediately started looking for jobs. We had to dig, wash, clean and all that stuff. We quickly registered ourselves at the Jewish community in the town, where they prepared a list of people like us who wanted to work. So, through the Jewish community we were sent to a ranch of 200 hectares of land. It was situated in the village of Panayot-Volovo. The owner was Ivan Praznikov. Both my sister Jina and I worked there. We dug, harvested and did all kinds of agricultural work there. My elder sister became a seamstress.

After 9th September 1944 14 we finally came back to Sofia. Then I was already 17 years old. We lived in absolute poverty. We found our house overgrown with weeds and grass. The doors and windows were levered out. The furniture had been robbed. A gaping house. We looked at each other and started crying frantically. We were only the three of us. As we were crying, Vinka said, ‘There’s no use in crying. Let’s get things moving.’
We started tearing up the weeds. We cleaned the yard, but the problem was where we were going to sleep for the night. My mother had brothers in Dorbunar [literally from Turkish: ‘Four wells’. ‘Dort’ stands for four, while ‘bunar’ means well, but in every day life people usually don’t pronounce the ‘t’.], a residential district neighboring Iuchbunar. They had come back to Sofia from their internment before we did. And they told us, ‘Until you submit the documents to have the house restored and get help from the municipality, come and stay with us.’ We stayed for a while with our uncles. The house got restored quite quickly in fact; doors and windows were installed. We whitewashed the house, disinfected, cleaned everything and moved in. We gathered our entire luggage in a single corner, because we didn’t have any furniture, we didn’t even have beds. We slept on quilts on the floor.

Just before our internment, my first and second sister, Ester and Sara, who already had their own families, had been working hard. There was a special kind of home-employment for women then. My third and fourth sisters worked for a textile factory. I worked with them. I sewed buttons on shirts, a multitude of shirts every day, so that eventually I didn’t even look at the button’s holes; I knew them by heart. I could finish 60 shirts a day. My third sister got married in Ruse. Vinka’s husband Shlomo was in a forced labor camp during the internment, but he fled to Shumen, where he met my sister and they got married after 9th September 1944.

My brothers succeeded in getting married to the women they loved. In contrast to my sisters, let me say. My elder brother married Olga; his love from the school years. In the beginning, they lived with us. My second brother’s wife’s name is Ani; she lives in Israel. Her father was a grocer; they lived in the Jewish neighborhood, near our place, at the corner of Opalchenska Street and Stamboliiski Boulevard. My younger brother married the girl he loved, also from his childhood. They lived in a bungalow attached to our house in Iuchbunar in Sofia.

Shortly after 9th September 1944 I got married, too. It happened that I had an arranged marriage with an ex-political prisoner; his name was Sason Panizhel. He was a nephew of my sister’s mother-in-law. Once he went to visit his aunt and then he happened to see me there. They arranged a marriage for us and I accepted only because I wanted to get rid of that poverty. My co-existence with him lasted for three years [1945-1947] and it turned out to be real hell.

He took me to Ruse. Yet during the first week, I realized what I was in. But I was still an innocent child brought up with books. I idealized everything. I cried all the time; I just couldn’t stop. Soon my daughter Tinka was born in 1947, and because of her I managed to put up with this nightmare for three years. Our house in Ruse shared the same yard with Dragomir Assenov [a well-known Bulgarian writer of Jewish origin]. Besides, we lived with my husband’s mother, Estel Panizhel, who was close to my mother. His sister was a friend of my sister’s; in Sofia we lived near each other. I lived with him and was in incessant fear. He had acquired some habits in prison that I couldn’t stand. 

Sason’s mother was a martyr. And his father wasn’t a good man. I remember him as a very perverted person. And he had passed his perversion to his son. For him, a woman was just a tool for satisfying primary instincts. I was disgusted. Besides, he even reached out his hands to harm me. During that time his cousin, Luna Djain, and I became friends. She often told me, ‘How can you put up with him?’ and I answered, ‘What can I do? Where can I go?’ My parents and my sisters and brothers had all immigrated to Israel by then. And I had nobody in Sofia. Where could I go? Then Luna said to me, ‘You can come and stay with me.’ We lived close to her place then. And one evening when the situation became extremely unbearable, I decided to run away. Just as I was: in a nightgown.

Of course, the situation worsened. At first, he didn’t want to get divorced. He used to go to the kindergarten to pick up our kid. He used it as a lure to make me come back. I was terrified and I let my daughter stay at their place, but I tormented myself with this. I would go to him to ask for my kid, he would let me in, lock the door, beat me, and then chase me away bleeding. Of course, the kid witnessed these scenes and also got disgusted with her father. Luna asked me, ‘Leave him, leave him alone for three days and you’ll see, he can’t handle it with this kid. Why are you going there? Want to get beaten again?’ I was obstinate, though. And everything happened again and again. One day I decided to listen to Luna’s advice. I went there neither the first day, nor the second, and on the third day he came shouting, ‘Take this tag with you, it’s yours!’ That’s what I wanted to hear. And it was over. Afterwards I lived in an even worse condition with my daughter, in complete poverty. We had only my salary as a typist for a living, which was not high at all. At least, I always had some butter to spread on a slice of bread for her.

In 1952 I met my second husband, Georgi Iliev. The same year I found a job with the Regional Council. Georgi worked there, too. He was single and I was in the process of getting divorced. What I liked about him was that he was serious and modest. We got married in Ruse in 1953. Some very big troubles followed on the part of his relatives. The reason was that I was divorced and had a child. His relatives had the mentality of villagers and couldn’t put up with this. Even his father, who had been sent to Germany as a very qualified professional, he worked in the local locomotive plant, said after he came back, ‘It doesn’t matter if she’s divorced; she has a child. But she’s a Jew!’ However, I knew what a wise Jew should do. I stayed silent and waited. I thought this was their viewpoint. I couldn’t press my position on them.

Many years passed before we went to visit them. Until the day my husband’s uncle, who was studying law in France, came back to Bulgaria. He came to visit us. Our son was still a baby then. We sat at the table and started talking, and we talked for long hours, we talked sincerely to each other. He told me a lot of things about France. I don’t know what he said to his sister, my husband’s mother, but after two days she rang the doorbell. I invited her as if we had last met two hours ago. So, step by step they started to invite us to visit them. 

Years passed and my mother-in-law died. She didn’t suffer for long; she passed away within a day. It was 1963. The old man remained alone. My father-in-law sold his house and he had to come to stay with us until we had an apartment built. My father-in-law was born in one of the neighboring villages to Ruse, Chervena Voda, which was very riotous after 9th September 1944. In that village the local inhabitants started to make fun of him. They used to tell him, ‘Well, well, Ilia, what happened at the end? A Jewish daughter-in-law, and God knows what else, but a Jewish daughter-in-law is going to look after you, as it turns out.’ And he said, ‘I hadn’t known her. She’s decent. She’s not like us.’ That’s how he spread the fame of me in that village. I looked after this man for 20 years.

My daughter Tinka has two daughters: Rossitsa and Tanya who suddenly decided to leave for Israel after 10th November 1989 15. After my granddaughters immigrated to Israel, my daughter also went there. She has been there for ten years already and lives in Bat Yam. Her second daughter moved to Tel Aviv, while her elder daughter came back to Bulgaria. Rossitsa’s children are called Adam born in 2003 and Maya in 1997. Her husband’s name is Zoar, an Arab Jew, and an intelligent boy.

My son Iliycho [Ilia] Georgiev Iliev was born in 1953 and finished his secondary education at the Ruse music school. We knew he had the talent for music, but we didn’t expect that he would get addicted to music. This way he outlined his own fate. After that, he graduated from the Conservatory [in Sofia], specializing in violin. There he met his wife, Svetla Nikolaeva Toteva, who was also born in Ruse. She’s a cello player. Between 1980 and 1992 they were both members of the [Ruse] Opera orchestra. Then a Brazilian impresario came to the Ruse Opera; I don’t know how he persuaded them, but in 1992 twelve members of the orchestra decided to leave for Brazil to strengthen their orchestra there. Off they went and it’s now twelve years I haven’t seen them. That’s what I feel heavy at heart about. In fact, Iliycho went first and two years after him, his wife and two children, Milena and Nikolay, went to join him. They gave birth to a third child there: Victor. 

I have been to Israel seven times. The first time was in 1982 when I went alone. My second visit took place in 1986. From 1989 on, I have traveled to Israel once every three years. I’m impressed that it becomes more and more beautiful there. I like the people, too. My brother-in-law is a Sabra. [Literally cactus fruit in Hebrew, Sabra became the name for the native Jewish inhabitants of Israel. The self perception of Israelis is of the cactus fruit, that is rough and thorny outside and warm and sweet inside.] A wonderful person. Every morning he smiled at me, saying, ‘Miluka kerez kadiyko? Uno Kadiyko? [From Ladino: Milka, would you like a cup of coffee? A coffee?] And he prepared for me a special coffee from selected sorts. His name was Herzel Karmel. He was my sister Jina’s husband. I married before her, even though according to the tradition it was her turn to get married since she was elder than me. He was head of the municipality’s transport department. He was our cousin; his and our fathers were brothers. However, as we know, marriages between Jewish cousins are allowed. As a matter of fact, his surname was Mashiakh. But the people in Israel made fun of this so much that he decided to officially change his surname to Karmel. [‘Mashiach’ means ‘Messiah’ in Hebrew.]

I have experienced every possible misadventure: internment, ghetto, poverty, anti-Semitic regulations, disgraceful yellow star 16, curfew, and so on. So I celebrated 9th September 1944 as liberation. However, I can’t say I accepted 10th November 1989 as liberation, too. Before this date, there were a lot of things I liked. For example, there was more freedom to speak of your ethnical origin; at least, this is my opinion. Less antagonism. More economic safety and social stability. Before, there was a certain category of people, ‘active fighters’ against fascism. They received this date with hostility. Before that, they felt themselves as aristocrats, but this date dispelled their halo. I have never been an ‘active fighter.’ And I didn’t feel any hostility. I can’t say conditions of life changed for me, because I was already a pensioner when the democratic changes in Bulgaria took place. 

I retired in 1983. Until then I worked in the Human Resources Department at the Agriculture and Mechanical Engineering Institute in Ruse. I was at a very good self-dependant position and after that I started receiving a nice pension. I had another 15 years length of service before that. So my total length of service runs to 35 years, although I started working as young as a child during the Law for the Protection of the Nation.

The events that took place in Bulgaria after 10th November 1989 didn’t fascinate me. I’m for the tolerance. I never argue with friends in the organization [Milka is speaking of the local Jewish organization in Ruse called ‘Shalom’]: if one supports the Union of Democratic Forces or the Bulgarian Socialist Party, I’m simply not interested in that. Just the other way about. I try to respect other people’s opinions. My sister, who came back to Bulgaria for a while after 10th November 1989, listened to what people were commenting then and told me, ‘Milka, the people here are mad!’ Herzel and I vote with different bulletins. He’s for the conservatives and I’m for the liberals. But should we argue about that at home?’ I think this is the right way of thinking.

Glossary 

1 Sephardi Jewry

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

2 Expulsion of the Jews from Spain

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

3 Kirkov, Georgi Yordanov (1867-1919)

Bulgarian journalist, poet. One of the founders of the Bulgarian Socialist Party, which was established in 1903.

4 Iuchbunar

The poorest residential district in Sofia; the word is of Turkish origin and means ‘the three wells’.

5 Bet Am

The Jewish center in Sofia today, housing all Jewish organizations.

6 Great Synagogue

Located in the center of Sofia, it is the third largest synagogue in Europe after the ones in Budapest and Amsterdam; it can house more than 1,300 people. It was designed by Austrian architect Grunander in the Moor style. It was opened on 9th September 1909 in the presence of King Ferdinand and Queen Eleonora.

7 Law for the Protection of the Nation

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

8 Hashomer Hatzair in Bulgaria

‘The Young Watchman’; A Zionist-socialist pioneering movement established in Bulgaria in 1932, Hashomer Hatzair trained youth for kibbutz life and set up kibbutzim in Palestine. During World War II, members were sent to Nazi-occupied areas and became leaders in Jewish resistance groups. After the war, Hashomer Hatzair was active in ‘illegal’ immigration to Palestine.

9 Internment of Jews in Bulgaria

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

10 24th May 1943

Protest by a group of members of parliament led by the deputy chairman of the National Assembly, Dimitar Peshev, as well as a large section of Bulgarian society. They protested against the deportation of the Jews, which culminated in a great demonstration on 24th May 1943. Thousands of people led by members of parliament, the Eastern Orthodox Church and political parties stood up against the deportation of Bulgarian Jews. Although there was no official law preventing deportation, Bulgarian Jews were saved, unlike those from Bulgarian occupied Aegean Thrace and Macedonia.

11 UYW

The Union of Young Workers (also called Revolutionary Youth Union). A communist youth organization, which was legally established in 1928 as a sub-organization of the Bulgarian Communist Youth Union (BCYU). After the coup d’etat in 1934, when parties in Bulgaria were banned, it went underground and became the strongest wing of the BCYU. Some 70% of the partisans in Bulgaria were members of it. In 1947 it was renamed Dimitrov’s Communist Youth Union, after Georgi Dimitrov, the leader of the Bulgarian Communist Party at the time.

12 King Boris III

The Third Bulgarian Kingdom was a constitutional monarchy with democratic constitution. Although pro-German, Bulgaria did not take part in World War II with its armed forces. King Boris III (who reigned from 1918-1943) joined the Axis to prevent an imminent German invasion in Bulgaria, but he refused to send Bulgarian troops to German aid on the Eastern front. He died suddenly after a meeting with Hitler and there have been speculations that he was actually poisoned by the Nazi dictator who wanted a more obedient Bulgaria. Most Bulgarian Jews saved from the Holocaust (over 50,000 people) regard King Boris III as their savior.

13 Forced labor camps in Bulgaria

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

14 9th September 1944

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

15 10th November 1989

After 35 years of rule, Communist Party leader Todor Zhivkov was replaced by the hitherto Prime Minister Peter Mladenov who changed the Bulgarian Communist Party’s name to Socialist Party. On 17th November 1989 Mladenov became head of state, as successor of Zhivkov. Massive opposition demonstrations in Sofia with hundreds of thousands of participants calling for democratic reforms followed from 18th November to December 1989. On 7th December the ‘Union of Democratic Forces’ (SDS) was formed consisting of different political organizations and groups.

16 Yellow star in Bulgaria

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

Suzi Sarhon

SUZI SARHON
Istanbul
Turkey
Interviewer: Yusuf Sarhon
Date of interview: January 2005
 

Suzi Sarhon is a very kind-hearted 78-year-old housewife who is always ready with a smile.  She has devoted her whole life to looking after her family, children and grandchildren, always supporting them in their hour of need both physically and psychologically.  She is a very active woman but her activities have been cutailed in the last few years because of her heart problems.  Suzi Sarhon can get along with practically anyone, as she is sincere, affectionate and understanding.  That is why she is liked by everyone she meets.  She lives in a flat at an apartment building in Gayrettepe with her husband.  She spends certain days of the week meeting her friends to play cards and chat.

My family background

Growing up

During the War

After the War

Glossary

My family background

My father’s father, Avram Danon, was from a very good family.  They were 3 siblings but I do not know anything about them.  I do not know what my grandfather did for a living.  He was a well-educated and talkative person.  He was quite tall apparently.  He had died a long time before I was born so I do not have much information about that side of the family except that they were very religious.  As I never met my father’s father, I do not really know how he used to dress. I was told that they were quite well-off and that they used to speak French and Ladino.

My father’s mother, Sultana Danon had 4 siblings but I do not know their names.  This grandmother died of cholera.  I do not know when and where, but apparently there was a kind of epidemic and she died.  My grandfather then remarried (I do not remember the name of his second wife) and had another son called Beno Danon.

My father’s side of the family was from Istanbul.  I do not know exactly where they lived, but it might have been in Ortakoy because my father was from Ortakoy [a district where Jews used to live on the European side of the Bosphorus].

My mother’s side of the family had all come to Istanbul from Salonica.  The whole family on that side was from Salonica.  I know that they arrived in 1910, but I do not know why they moved here.  I do not have much information about them except that they were very religious, just like my father’s side of the family.

My mother’s father, Hayim Benmayor, (I do not know his birth or death dates) was a very nice man.  He was from the best of families.  When I say “the best of families” I mean “rich and educated”.  They were quite a big family.  He had two other siblings about whom I know nothing.  Hayim Benmayor studied in Salonica because he was born there.  He was a well-educated man and quite talkative.  He was tall and dressed very fashionably in clothes that were the highest fashion of the time.  I do not know what he did for a living.  My mother’s side of the family spoke French and Greek because they had all been born and raised in Salonica.  They all spoke Greek perfectly.

I never got to know my mother’s mother, Sara Benmayor (nee Faraci).  She was a sick woman.  She had a very high degree of diabetes and went blind consequently.  She had 3 more siblings but I do not know anything about them.  My grandmother used to wear long-sleeved dresses of her time.  She used to wear jewelry and had a “kolana” [Ladino term for “long gold chain”] which laterbecame my mother’s.  She would wear her jewelry when she went out to go somewhere; not that they would go on outings very often.  They had a lot of family, cousins, sisters, brothers, and they would gather in one another’s homes.  One other thing I remember about grandmother Benmayor is her going into a depression after her son Jak Benmayor went to the USA to settle there.  She died when she was 52-53 years old. 

When my mother’s father, Hayim Benmayor came from Salonica they settled in Bakirkoy [an old Jewish district on the European side of Istanbul].  My mother and her brothers, Avram, Mishel, Jak and Daniel all grew up there.  When my grandfather came from Salonica, he bought 4 houses there. 

The houses had wells in their gardens.  There was no tap water then and they used to get their water with a pump from the wells.  According to what my mother told me, they had two maids in their home, so I guess they were quite well-off.

My mother’s side of the family was quite religious. They practised all the Jewish traditions.  They bought kosher meat for example.  Then when Pesah [Pesach] came, they would change all the kitchenware.  They did all this for a very long time.  They used to go to the synagogue every Friday.  The Jewish religious holidays were celebrated at home.  When they lived in Bakirkoy, my grandfather was the president of the synagogue there.

My mother’s family had very good relations with their neighbours.  The neighbours were Jewish, too.  There were a lot of Jews in Bakirkoy.  They used to call this district “Makrikoy”.  The Greeks who lived there used to say that “Makrikoy” meant “little village”.  The name later changed into “Bakirkoy”.

My mother and her brothers grew up in Bakirkoy, then the years went by.  My eldest uncle, Alber Benmayor went to Germany on business and he lived there for years.  Then some years after my grandmother had died, my grandfather went to live with his son in Germany.  My uncle bought a beautiful house in Germany, a house with 6 floors.  He was in the razor blade business. He had a factory.  My uncle, Alber Benmayor, (I don’t know his birth date) died in Istanbul in 1951.  He was married to Lidya Benmayor and had a son, Mario Benmayor.  Mario was born in Germany in 1929 and came to Turkey when he was 8 years old.  Here he studied at a British school [probably English High School for Boys]. 1  We did not use to frequent them.  His father had a textile business in Mahmutpasha [a business district in the Euopean side of Istanbul].  When my uncle died, Mario took over the business but he was not successful and quit.  Then I remember he went into the automobile spare parts industry.  He married a Christian German girl here, and had 2 sons but I don’t have any more information as we did not use to see them.  I think Mario died recently.

During the holidays, they gathered within the family and would visit each other in their homes.  There were a lot of cousins, big families on both sides.

My father Jozef Danon, I don’t know his date of birth, was born in Istanbul.  My Dad was a very good man, and he did a lot of good deeds for people.  His sister, Viktorya Danon (I don’t know her birth and death dates) married Rober Schilton and went to live in Bursa.  A few years later, they returned to Istanbul.  I do not have much information about her.  I just know that she was older than my father and that my father sent them sacks full of food because their economic situation was not very good.   My father looked after both our family and hers.  He was always doing good to people in need.  He exhausted himself trying to help people.  He was also a member of one of the charity organizations of the Jewish community, called “Sedaka u marpe” [charity and healing].  He used to take a lot of things there, like hats.  I distinctly remember him taking them hats, I don’t know why or what they were doing with those hats but hats it was.  He worked very hard for this organization of the community and tried very hard to help. 

My father was a very talkative person.  He was skillful and hardworking.  I remember, when we went to my uncle’s (my mother’s brother) for the New Year celebrations, it was my father who prepared the table and organized the food etc...

On Sundays my father would set the table beautifully and he would make us all coffee with milk and call us to the table.  He would do all that so my mother would not get tired; not because she was ill or anything, just because he loved her so.  He would prepare everything and then he would say: “Come on Tutuni, the table is ready”.  My father called my mother “Tutuni” instead of “Fortune”.

My father had a hardware shop.  He was the only one then; there were no other hardware shops around.  He used to do a lot of business with Anatolia and his business was very good.  We were very well-off.  I grew up with a nanny and we had a maid, too.  Unfortunately my dad died in January 1936.  I was 9 at the time.  He had a heart disease.  In fact, when he and my mother got married, he already had heart problems.  He was not very young when he got married.  I used to see him feel uncomfortable and open the window to get some fresh air.  He would breathe deeply to relieve his distress.  “What’s the matter, Jozef?”, my mother would ask him at those times and he would reply, “Oh, nothing, it’s nothing”.  He wouldn’t tell her anything.  He just exhausted himself running around for other people.  One day he had a heart attack.  The doctor warned him: “Mr. Danon, you will not bend down to even tie your shoes, let your children tie your shoes.  Don’t tire yourself and don’t go out”.  But in the meantime my father’s business was not going well because he used to gamble with his friends and neighbors every night till morning.  He ruined his business in that way.  He and my mother would have fights about this gambling of his.  He would even go to neighbors in our apartment and not come back for hours on end.  In that way, the shop and the business was ruined.  When he died, he had a lot of money owed to him because he had sold a lot of goods to a lot of people but we did not know anything about the business and how were we to find those people?  So we couldn’t collect any of those debts.  No one came forward and said anything.  He had a lot of clients in Anatolia and they all disappeared.  If we, the children, had been older, then we could have followed and dealt with these problems but we were all so very young and we did not have anything.

My father had 5 siblings: 2 brothers, Izidor, Sami; and 2 sisters, Viktorya and Sara from my grandfather’s first wife and another brother, Beno, from my grandfather’s second wife.  Beno still lives.

Izidor left Turkey (I don’t know when or why) and went to settle in the USA.  He married someone there and had a child but we never had a lot of information on him.  After long years, he came here once to see us.  Apparently he had a hotel, a gambling hotel, in Las Vegas.  He had one son only.

When Viktorya Danon got married, she became a Schilton.  Her husband’s name was Rober Schilton.  Rober was of Italian nationality and he came from Bursa.  They got married in Bursa, then they came to Istanbul and lived in Tunel [a popular neighborhood in which the Jews lived].  When I was a little girl, I used to go to my aunt’s a lot.  I liked Rober Schilton very much.  He used to work at an insurance firm.  Their economic situation was not very good but he was a very good man.  They had 4 children: 2 girls, Sara and Suzi; and 2 boys, Alber and Sami.

My father’s other sister, Sara Danon married another of the Schiltons but I do not remember his name.  She married a brother of Rober Schilton’s.  They lived in Paris and had 3 children, with the same names: Alber, Sami, Suzi.

I do not remember anything about the other brother, Sami.

I do not know when the last brother, Beno was born.  He grew up and got married and had a son, Albert Danon.  He lives in Istanbul, in Sisli.  I do not have any other information about him.

We mostly visited my aunt Viktorya with my mum and dad.  I would see Beno there when he came for the holidays to visit my aunt.

My mother, Fortune Danon, (I don’t know when she was born), was born in Salonica.  She came to Istanbul when she was 13.  My mother was a quiet person, she did not speak too much.  She spoke Greek very well and French, too.  She had studied in Greek in Salonica.  Then here, she studied in French, I don’t know which schools, maybe there was a French school in Bakirkoy.  Her French was very excellent.  She was very intelligent. 

She was not a very authoritarian mother.  She raised us all with great economic difficulties after my father died.  After being really well-off with maids and nannies, it was douby difficult for her to raise 4 children.  She did it all on her own.  My uncles also helped of course, moneywise.  My grandfather (mother’s father) had 4 houses in Bakirkoy, 4 houses for each of his 4 children.  When my grandfather went to Germany to live with his son, he rented out those houses.  When my father died, my grandfather was no longer alive.  My mother had 2 brothers in Germany and they immediately wrote to her and said: “we do not want our share of the rents of the houses”.  The brother who was living here said the same thing and they made it possible for my mother and us to live on these rents.  She would go to Bakirkoy every month to collect the rents, and the tenants would sometimes give her the money and sometimes not.  My uncles in Germany would send her money from abroad, too until Hitler came.  When Hitler came, they came back here.  I do not remember exactly when they came back but it must have been a little before the war.

My mother had 4 brothers:  Alber, Mishel, Jak and Dani (Daniel), all of them born in Salonica.  Two of them, Mishel and Alber Benmayor lived in Germany until Hitler came. 

Alber Benmayor had gone to Germany when he was 16.  He studied there, then he started a business.  He opened a razor blade factory there. Then when he came back he lived very close to our house in Kurtulus.  Here he opened a jersey cloth factory.  He was quite well-off.  He had a son, Maryo Benmayor.  Maryo was 8 when they came to Turkey.  Here he studied at the English High School 1 and then at Robert College 2.  I do not know what he did after that.  My uncle Alber died here in Istanbul in 1950.

Mishel was also born in Salonica of course, like all the others.  I do not know when, but he also went to Germany when he was very young both to study and then to do business.  He was in business with his older brother Alber and then came back here when Hitler came.  After the war was over, he went to Paris.  There he married a woman whose surname was Behar and whose first husband had been killed by the Germans.  He went in to the textile business in Paris.  He died in Paris, but I do not know when.

My other uncle, Jak Benmayor got married here and then went to Los Angeles with his wife.  I do not remember when he went or who his wife was.  We were told he had 2 daughters.

My fourth uncle, Daniel lived in Istanbul and married an Italian girl called Emilia Kilkus.  They did not have any children.  He was in business with her father.  I think they had a hardware shop.  Later on, when the business did not go well, he took his share and left.  He bought two flats with that money and lived on the rent of those flats.  He did not work.  Daniel died in 1957.

Both my father and my mother studied in French.  In those times, most people studied in French.  My parents’ mother tongue was Ladino, they learned Turkish later on but they could never speak it like we did.  My father was alittle better but my mother spoke very little Turkish.  She spoke Greek, French and Ladino.  My parents spoke Ladino with each other.

My parents met through a matchmaker but I do not know the details.  They never told me anything about it.  Just that the matchmaker proposed my mother as a very eligible young woman of very good family.  Then they got married, I do not know when or where.  They probably got married at the synagogue, I don’t know.  After the wedding they lived at a house opposite Pera Palas [a very old and famous hotel in Tepebasi, very close to the Grand Rabbinate in the European side of Istanbul].  My father’s business was in Tahtakale [a business district in the European side of Istanbul].

My father always wore suits and his shoes had laces always.  They were some kind of boots with laces.  He also wore a hat called “republique”. [top hat] But before that, the men used to wear the fes 3 before Ataturk 4 and his reforms 5.  My mother had kept my father’s fes, with which he used to go out.

My mother used to read a lot.  That is why there used to be a lot of books in our home.  She used to read books in French, all sorts of books.  After my father died, she started reading books about diseases.  She got obsessed with illnesses, heart diseases, other diseases.  She would read these all day long and would not go out.

Growing up

I was born in the house opposite Pera Palas, but then they moved to a house in Tunel.  I was too young to remember when.  When you went into that house, there were 3 rooms downstairs, you went up a flight of stairs and there were 2 more rooms and then you went up again and it was the attic.  It was a beautiful house but quite tiring.  We had a big stove downstairs and another one upstairs.  We used to sit upstairs, near the stove and watch the people coming and going in and out of the underground, and others getting on and off the tramway, because Tunel was the last stop.  We used to entertain ourselves watching all these people.

We did not have a garden.  We could not have a pet because my mother did not like pets and would never permit such a thing.

I remember my father bringing home some fruit like dates.  I can’t remember its name now.  He brought those and then hung them.  My brothers and I would go and pick the fruit before it was done.  They weren’t dates but some yellow fruit.  They would hang them and then they would dry and we would eat them.  When they were done they got red.  We would eat them before they got red.  My father would hang them at a place that got a lot of sunshine.  I thought they were called “ziruelikas” [a Ladino word meaning “plums”] but they weren’t.

My mother used to do the shopping.  She would go to the open market to do her shopping.  There would be sellers who came to the door of course, but she preferred to go to the open market.  Sometimes she would take me and my brothers, too and we would carry everything back.

My parents were religious but not fanatical.  They did all the Jewish holidays and never did anything on Saturdays.  On Saturdays, we would either sit down and read books or go and visit my aunt.  They were careful with kasherut.  They did not go to the synagogue every Friday; just on the holidays or when somebody got married or for funerals. My mother also had the “loksa”.  She had these beautiful special kitchenware for Pesah [Pesach].  When Pesah was over, these would be put into a special chest used only to keep the “loksa”.  Then when my father died my mother did not have the will to go to all this trouble and she left all this.

Neither my mum nor my dad were members of any political party or any social or cultural organization.  Just my father worked as a volunteer at the charity.

My family had Jewish neighbors now and again.  There were a lot of Jews in Tunel.  When I was 5 or 6 we moved to Osmanbey [a district in the European side of Istanbul].  Thre were Jews there, too.  We had Jewish neighbors there, too.  My father used to go and play cards with them.  There were 2 Jewish families at that apartment.  One family was called Behar, the other I don’t remember.  They all used to play together, either at their homes or at ours, but more often than not they would go and play outside, where I don’t know.  My mother did not go because she did not know how to play cards.

My parents are buried in the Jewish cemetery in Ulus [a district in the European side of Istanbul].  They were buried with a religious ceremony.  And of course there was a rabbi and a hazan [chazzan] at the funeral.  The sons of the family sang the Kadish and I always do their “meldado” [yahrzeit] every year.

I had 3 brothers, 2 older than me and one younger.

My brother Alber was born in Istanbul in 1917.  He had meningitis when he was 5. One day he was visiting our grandmother (my mother’s mother).  He was jumping on the cushions and then he hit his head on something.  My grandmother put him to sleep and he slept till morning.  When he woke up, he couldn’t speak.  My Dad took him to the doctor, and the doctor said: “you will not tire this child; he will start to speak very slowly”.  After a couple of years, we had a cousin in Tunel, Viktorya Danon, my father asked her: “Please, let Albertiko come to you for a while, you have cats”.  So Alber went to stay with her for a while and indeed he started to speak there.  He did not go to school.  There were teachers who came to the house to teach him French.  He would beat the teachers, he was sick really.  He actually started to speak when he was 10.  What a pity, because when he was little he was one of the smartest kids ever.  Now, the doctors tell us not to put a child to sleep if he takes a fall or hits his head etc...  But my grandmother did not know that.  When my grandfather came home that night she even told him: “Please, Hayim, do not make any noise, Albertiko took a fall” and she had him sleep till morning.  And he got meningitis.  But later on, he grew up and he even did his military service for 2 years.  Then, when my uncle came back from Germany and opened his jersey factory, he took Alber to the factory where he worked until my uncle died in 1951.  Then he went to work for the Kastro family as an office boy and retired from that job.  Then when my mother died, we took him to the Old People’s Home 6 in Haskoy.  He lived there for 10 years, then took a fall and died in 1999.
  
Vitali was born in Istanbul in 1922.  He studied primary school and the secondary school until my father died.  He was 14 when my father died, and had to start working.  He worked for a florist in Osmanbey near our home, and brought home some money.  He would take flowers to clients.  Later on he worked at a big shop in Beyoglu [very famous district, otherwise called “Pera”, in the European side of Istanbul], called “Galeri Kristal” as salesman.  They sold glassware and crystalware there.  When he was 14, Vitali met an Armenian girl called Adirne Donaloglu, who lived in Ferikoy [a district between Osmanbey and Kurtulus, where a lot of non-Muslims, especially Armenians used to and still live].  They fell in love and later got married.  The families did not want this marriage of course but while Vitali was doing his military service, he came on leave once and they got married secretly, by civil marriage only of course.  The families did not know but I did because Adirne was my friend.  They had two daughters, Linda and Rita.  Linda was born in 1949 and Rita in 1954.  They studied in state schools. Linda married an Armenian, Simon Kokyan and she became Armenian, which means she became a Christian.  They had two daughters as well, Karolin and Karin.  Rita, on the other hand, married a Moslem boy, Emin Kaplan and she converted and became a Moslem.  They had a son called Akin.  Vitali died in Istanbul in 1982.  His wife, Adirne, died many years before him, I don’t remember exactly when.

My third brother Sami was 1.5 years younger than me.  We grew up together and we were in the same school.  After he finished primary school, my mother sent him to Saint Michel [a French Catholic high school in Osmanbey].  I do not know why, but he did not finish St. Michel.  Then he started working and later he opened a perfume shop with a partner.  Then he got married.  He married Fortune Algazi.  They had two children, a girl, Sara and a boy Yasef.  Sara was born in Istanbul in 1956.  I do not know where she studied but she got married in her early twenties.  Then after 18 years of marriage, she got divorced.  She never had any children.  Yasef was born in Istanbul in 1962.  He also got married and then divorced.  He has a daughter.  My brother Sami always worked in the same job.  Then he had heart problems and then one day, one Friday in 1989, he was coming home from Sirkeci [a business district in the european side of Istanbul] in a taxi and he had a heart attack and died in the taxi.  The following day was the Bar-Mitzvah of my grandson, Izel and we were preparing for that.  It was a terrible time for me. On the one side I was grieving for my brother and on the other side there was the happiness of the Bar-Mitzvah of my only grandson.  It was a terrible clash of emotions.  On the Saturday night, we celebrated the Bar-Mitzvah among the family members but it was entirely spoiled for me.

None of my brothers are alive today.

My parents were going to have another sibling actually.  When we were living in Tunel, I was 5 at the time, my mother got sick.  She got the flu and was coughing terribly.  We had a Jewish maid and she gave her the wrong medicine.  Instead of the cough syrup the doctor had given her, she gave her an enema to drink!  She did not realize it was the wrong medicine and my mother was 8 months pregnant at the time.  The medicine killed the baby inside her.  My mother screamed for 3 days and 3 nights.  There were no gynaecologists then.  My father called the midwife.  The midwife said the child had died inside anyway and then she made my mother give birth like a normal birth.  They pressed on her tummy and made her give birth.  She was in such a lot of pain.  I cannot forget her screams for days after that.  If the baby had lived, she would have been 5 years younger than me.  They were going to name her after my mother’s mother, too.  She died because of the maid’s mistake.  In spite of this, the maid continued to come and work for us.

I was born in an apartment building called “Gul Apartimani” [Rose Building] opposite Pera Palas, in Tepebasi in 1927.  My mother kept a record of all the births.  At that time people could get their identity cards whenever they wanted, not like now, that you have to leave the hospital with a birth record paper. Then, children were born, and after a while they would go and get their identity card.  I got my sister’s identity card.  I had a sister who was born before me in 1925.  She was born on 7th July.  She died when she was 13 or 14 months old from some sort of illness.  My mother told me she had died when she herself had been one month pregnant to me.  Then when I was born, they gave me that other one’s identty card but my mother recorded my birth in one of her books: “Suzi. Elle est née 24 janvier 1927” [in French: “Suzi: Born on 24th January 1927”].  There was no need to get another identity card.  No one checked anyway.  Her name had been “Sultana”, so I got that name as well.

We moved to Tunel from Tepebasi when I was very young.  We lived on the top floor of an apartment building.  We had both electricity and tap water as far as I remember.  I also remember the tram.  There were trams on the roads but I do not remember any cars.  The roads were asphalted then.  There were big stones.  No cars.

There were a lot of Jews in Tunel then but we did not have much contact with them because our family was quite extensive and we usually met with them.  The Jews would usually gather in Sishane [very near the Galata Tower].  They used to speak in Ladino in the streets.  There were fisherman, street sellers etc... who would shout in Ladino in the streets.  There were people of every trade; hat makers, shoemakers etc...  My father had a cousin, Viktorya Danon, who had a big shop (I don’t know where) where she sold and repaired paintings.

My mother raised me.  At first I had both my Mum and my Dad.  I had a governess and a maid.  The governess would teach us French, had us play games and taught us poetry.  The governess would teach and the maid would do the cleaning and the housework, that’s how it was then.  The governess was Jewish and she left in the evening.  We used to sleep with the maid. 

We had all the Jewish traditions in our home when we were kids.  Kipur, Roshashana [Rosh Hashanah] were great celebrations in our home.

There was a synagogue in Tunel then, before coming to the Neve-Shalom synagogue.  [It was opened in 1923 in the location of the previous Apollon cinema. Although it was officially called the Knesset Synagogue people kept on refering to it as the Apollon synagogue.] It does not exist any more. [it was completely burned down in a fire in 1941] I don’t remember what it was called.  Well, haham, hazzan, shohet, they all existed then.  When my sister was stillborn, my father went to the synagogue to have a rooster sacrificed, in case something else terrible happened to the family. 

The day we liked best was Roshashana [Rosh Hashashanah].  It was the new year and my mother bought us new clothes and we would wear our new clothes.  We had new and clean shoes and we would all dress up.  We would have a very good breakfast that  morning and we knew it was Roshashana [Rosh Hashanah].  There would be a lot of guests.  My mother’s cousins would come, my aunt (my father’s sister) would come to visit.  Or we would go and visit them.  We were a big family.

Apart from Yom Kippur and Roshashana, we also celebrated Pesah [Pesach] and “beraha las frutas” [Ladino term for Sukkoth].  My mother would do a lot of cleaning before the holidays.  We even painted the house before Pesah.  Even I did some painting in the house before Pesah. 

When I was a young girl, a friend of mine and I would go to the Sisli Synagogue 7  at Yom Kippur.  We would go near the time it would be finished.  We went to see who was at the synagogue.  We went up to the women’s place and watched the people.  I don’t remember my friend’s name, but she lived near us and we would go to the synagogue on foot of course.  We rarely took the tram.  Not if we could walk.

My father first sent us to some sort of preschool.  The law that said we had to study at a Turkish primary school 8 had not started yet.  So Vitali and I went to St. Benoit for a couple of years.  There were nuns at this school and I had a round cap.  Then the law was passed and I went to the state school called “44. Ilkokul” [44th Primary School] in Bomonti [a district very near Osmanbey].  There weren’t many private schools then.  All my brothers and I studied in that school.  Of my classes, I liked Turkish best of all.  We also had history, geography and citizenship classes.  It was inetersting because we would learn about all the things that Ataturk had done.  The I went to the “Arts and Crafts School” where I learned sewing and household management.

There was a teacher I did not like in primary school.  Why didn’t I like her?  Well, it was like this: in our school they used to give lunch to the poor kids.  One day, there were chick peas for lunch.  I asked for some and they gave me a plate but I saw some stones in the food.  I told my friend: “the people here are very dirty”.  She immediately went and told this to the teacher whose name was Nahide.  “Sultana said this about you”.  So the teacher called me and asked me what the problem was.  I said it was nothing but from that day on she disliked me.  We would go out into the garden and if anything fell or was dirtied she called me to pick things up or cleans things up.  Then when we were in fifth grade, we had finishing exams [to get primary school diploma].  This teacher asked me the most difficult questions so she could flunk me but my own teacher did not let her do that.  He protected me and I passed.

We had music and gym classes, too but no language classes.  I did not feel any antisemitism on the part of my teacher or my friends.  There were very few Jews in that school, most of them were Turks.  I had some very good friends among them.  I remember one girl called Remziye for example.

What I most remember of those days were the military parades, special national days and independence days [Turkish Independence Day].  9 We would go to Taksim square on 29th October or 23rd April [The Turkish National Assembly and Children’s Day] 10 to see the parades.  I had even memorized the marches.

The most colorful memory I have of my childhood was having seen Ataturk himself in the flesh.  I saw him in Florya [a sea side resort on the European side].  My uncle Daniel used to take me to the beach in Florya.  As my uncle and his wife did not have any children, they loved me very much.  And my mother, as the kids were very naughty, would say, “please come and get Suzi” and I woıuld go to my uncle’s.  His wife would dress me in beautiful clothes and I would stay with them.  In the summer, they would take me to florya to swim.  We used to hire a cabin and spend the day swimming.  Ataturk had a house in Florya then and we would see him.  One day, when I was 7, we saw him walking on the beach.  He was dressed beautifully.  He had a little girl with him, I think it was his adopted daughter, Ulku.  She was very sweet.  I used to see her there, too.  Anyway, I went to him and gave him my hand.  He shook my hand and said “my dear child”.  This was quite a memory.

I had many greek friends outside school.  We were very very good friends.  After Osmanbey, we moved to a house in Kurtulus when my father died.  My uncle wanted us to live close to him.  I continued to go to the same primary school because there were no schools in Kurtulus then.  We used to walk from Kurtulus to Bomonti [a ten-minute walk].  I had wonderful friends in Kurtulus and I learned to speak Greek perfectly from them.  We often went to each other’s homes.  I remember one of my friends’ parents had a pharmacy and we would go to the pharmacy to help when they were open one night every week.  The pharmacy was close to our home.

My best friends were Greek.  There was Zorka, for example.  They lived in my uncle’s apartment.  There was a big vacant lot at the end of the Kurtulus Street where we played ball, jumped ropes and had a good time.  The Greeks were so lively, we would often hear music coming from the hand organ.  After we finished our homework, we would go out together or play with dolls at home.  One of my friends had a piano and we would go to her house to listen to her playing the piano.  They were rich, that’s why she had a piano. 

I have many meories from the times I spent at my uncle’s home.  For example, I remember that my uncle’s wife’s brother, Atilyo Kilkus and his wife (I can’t remember her name now) had had a baby.  The name of the baby was Romano.  There were 10 years’ difference between us. So when I went to stay with my uncle I would play with little Romano.  The 14 months later Covani was born. They lived in my uncle’s apartment, too.  So I was with them all the time I stayed at my uncle’s and I stayed with them a lot.  They used to call me “Suzika”.  They loved me very much.  Romano and Covani Kilkus were of Italian nationality.  Romano Kilkus was born in 1937 and Covani Kilkus in 1938.  Both of them studied primary school in the French Catholic school called “St. Esprit”, then they went on to St. Michel for secondary and high school. [French Catholic School]  Romano worked for a Jewish businessman and Covani was in household appliances spare parts business.  Neither of them is alive today.

Another nice memory from Kurtulus is my friendship with the famous singer Ayten Alpman [Turkish jazz singer].  We met through a fried who introduced us and we became friends.  I was 15 at the time.  We went out together and she used to sing.  We used to go to each other’s homes a lot.

Apart from this, we didn’t usually eat at restaurants when we went out but there used to be a cafeteria called “Hay-Layf” [High Life] beside the Tan Cinema in Pangalti [a district very close to Osmanbey and Kurtulus on the European side of Istanbul]; and my brother and I used to eat cakes there.   We liked that place a lot and we went there a lot. 

When we wanted to go to a place we usually took the tram.  There were trams in Kurtulus.  We got on trains a lot as well when we went to Florya with my uncle.  Apart from these I do not really remember there being any cars.  My uncles did not have cars.   The first time I got into a car was when I got into my husband’s car in 1949.

During the War

During the Second World War, we used to cover our window panes with dark blue blinds.  The alarms went on when night came and everyone would go into their houses and cover the windows and nobody would go out.  No light could be seen from the outside because the blinds we put were very dark.  We were also asked to turn the lights really down so no light could come out.  In those days, they sold everything with certificates.  My poor brother Alber would get into long queues to buy bread, margarine, sugar etc...

We heard what was done to the Jews in Europe afterwards.  During the Holocaust in Europe we did not notice any rise in antisemitism here in Turkey.  When my uncle Michel came back from Germany, he told us about the terrible treatment of the Jews in germany.  As he was of Turkish nationality, they did not do anything to him.  The Turkish consul told him: “you had better leave as soon as possible; I will give you a passport as you are of Turkish nationality and you must get away immediately”.  My uncle came back in 1938, just before the war started.

During the war, the Wealth Tax 11 did not affect me or my family.  We did not have any shops or anything.  Uncle Michel was taxed but I don’t know how much.  He had a shop in Eminonu [a business district in Istanbul] then.  No one else from my family was taxed.  But of course, a lot of people were taxed quite alot of money. My uncle Daniel was called for the 20 military classes.  12   They took him but none of the others. 

After the War

I remember the 6-7 September 1955 events. 13  That day, my elder son Sami  was at his grandmother’s (my husband’s mother).  My husband had gone to pick him up.  By the time they came home, the streets were full of looters and people attacking shops and houses.  I remember them coming home terribly frightened.  Our landlord was Greek then.  It was an apartment building of two storeys.  The landlord and his family lived upstairs.  They came down to us, terribly frightened.  Also there were two Greek grocers at the corner of our street.  When there was a shortage of sugar or coffee these would not sell anyone these goods.  So now, that day, the angry mob came to these shops and threw all their coffee and sugar into the streets shouting: “Hey, Kocho, no coffee eh?!”  The poor men hid in the basements of their shops.  Kurtulus was in a terrible state.  We stayed at home quite afraid.  Then it stopped.  Everywhere was ruined.  After that all the Greeks in Istanbul started to run away, to Greece most of them. 

Then I remember this policy of “Citizen, speak Turkish”.  We actually needed to speak Turkish.  14 They used to call us “Jews”.  For example, when we walked in the streets, they used to say: “Don’t speak in ‘the jewish language’, speak Turkish”. [The word for Ladino in Turkish was for long years “yahudice”, meaning “language of the Jews”].  Then, when we studied the primary school in Turkish, we were able to speak in Turkish after that.

When we lived in Osmanbey, there was a “donme” 15 family from Salonica, who lived above us.  They were “Selanikli”s [from Salonica: meaning donmes] but they converted to Islam and became Turkish.  They spoke Ladino very well.  My mother knew them well but I don’t remember their names.  I only remember that they and my mother used to speak in Ladino. 

My husband, Izak Sarhon, was born in Ortakoy, in 1914.  His mother tongue is Ladino and he speaks French, too.  My in-laws were very nice people.  I met my husband through an acquaintance.  That person told us there was somebody (my husband) so and so and when we said “OK”, we met at the Hay-Layf café in Pangalti.  My uncle and my brother Vitali came, too.  We saw each other for the first time there.  We chatted a little, then we ate something and then he left.  Then, the person who introduced us went to talk to his father and they said “OK”.  Then his father called my uncle and they talked about what was necessary to talk about [probably about the dowry], and then they said “OK”.  Then Izak came to visit us one evening and then we got engaged in 1948.  We got engaged in my home.  My uncles, my in-laws, and my sister-in-law all came to my home and we had a family dinner.  There were a lot of flowers.  My in-laws brought me a ring.  And my family gave my fiancée a gold watch as a present.  Of course, the fact that my fiancée was Jewish was an important factor in our decision for marriage.

In 1949, one week before the wedding, we had our civil marriage ceremony in Tunel .  The civil marriage was at the registrar’s hall and it was quite crowded.  I wore a tailor-made suit and my husband wore a dark suit.  My witness was my uncle Daniel and my husband’s witness was a cousin of his mother’s, the lawyer Selim Danon.  After the ceremony we went to my father-in-law’s house and there was a kind of cocktail.  There were about 30-40 people present.  We talked and listened to music on the radio, there was nothing else in those days. 

One week later, on a Sunday, on 10th July, I got married at the Zulfaris Synagogue 16 in Karakoy at 6:00 p.m.  I don’t know why we got married so late in the day, probably because there was no other free hour.  I bought my wedding dress from a shop, I did not have it made especially for me.  On that Sunday morning, we got up early.  My uncle and his wife, my friends, all came to my house.  The hairdresser also came and did everybody’s hair.  Then we got dressed.  At 10 minutes to 6 we went to the synagogue all together.  My cousin Sami Schilton gave me away and he and my mother got on the “teva” with me.  I also had a little bridesmaid and an older one who accompanied Sami Schilton later on.  After the wedding ceremony, we went to my husband’s parents’ house.  We changed there and then went to the Belvu Hotel [the turkish version of the french expression “Belle Vue”].  We did not have a party that night.  We stayed at that hotel for 4 days.  It was raining hard all the time so we spent the whole of the 4 days inside the hotel.  We did not go out.  Then we went to Caddebostan [this district on the Asian coast of Istanbul used to be a summer resort.  It is now a residential area.].  We rented a house for the summer.  Our friends also rented a house and we spent the whole summer together having fun.

When I got married, my husband was in the import-export business. He had a place in Karakoy [a business district in the european side of Istanbul].  The business did not go well, so after a while my husband started working at the shop of my cousin Alex Samuel.  This was a cloth business and my husband was a clerk there.

We had 2 sons.  The first, Sami, was born in 1951; and the second, Yusuf, was born in 1958.  Both were born in Istanbul.

When they were young, we used to speak French with our children.  However, when they reached the age of 6, we started speaking Turkish with them.  They were going to go to a turkish school so we did not want them to have problems at school with the language.  At that time we spoke only French in the family and that’s the language they heard, not Turkish.  So then we had to revert to Turkish when their time to go to school came.

We had a Greek neighbor who lived below us at the apartment building we lived in and they had a daughter the same age as my son Sami.  They used to play together and Sami had even learned how to speak Greek from them.  I used to take the kids everywhere, to the cinema, the theatre everywhere, with other children and their mothers of course.

Every summer we went to Caddebosta for the summer.  There we would hire a boat and go swimming with the kids.  When we came back, we went back home in a horse carriage.  We had a lot of friends.  I can give you their names as far as I remember: Ceni Jak Rutli, Esti Mordo Peres, Zelda Yomtov Behar, İzi Süzet Levi.  They were very intimate friends.  We were a big group and during the day we went swimming together.  Then in the evening we would meet again with the kids.  The children would play together, we would prepare food and eat all together.  Sometimes we would go out.  My husband had a car and we would go for rides.  We were together with our friends every weekend.  And when summer came, we would all rent houses near one another so we could be together all the time, both during the week and at weekends.  During the day we would go swimming and in the evening we would either go to the cinema or gather at one house.

When the children grew up a little, we sent them to the Mahaziketora. [Talmud Tora]  In summer, they would go to the Mahaziketora in Caddebostan, and in winter they would go to the one in Sisli.  We wanted them mto learn about their religion, especially before their bar mitzvahs.  After the lessons, there were quite a lot of activities at the Mahaziketora, like games and dancing.  They would stay for those activities as well.  Then both my sons went to the Jewish youth clubs.  Sami was a member of the “Kardeslik” [“brotherhood”] club in Kurtulus, and Yusuf was a member of the Dostluk [friendship] club in Osmanbey.

We raised our children according to the Jewish traditions.  They knew all the holidays and they started fasting at Yom Kippur when they were very young.  I used to take them to the synagogue whenever it was festival time, so that they could see and learn.  At Simhat Tora for example, they used to take the Sefer Tora’s out, and there were alot of songs, and I would take my sons so they could watch all this.

My father-in-law was very religious.  We went to their home whenever there was a holiday and we kept all the traditions.  On Shabat, we did the “hamotsi”, drank wine, did the prayers, and at Pesah we read the Agada two nights.  All this was celebrated at my father-in-law’s house.

We celebrated Sami’s bar mitzva both at the synagogue and at home.  He made a speech both at the synagogue and at home.  It was a beautiful bar mitzva.  There were 90 guests in our home afterwards.  We had a big house.  We had musical instruments, and a big feast with waiters.  Sami had an accordeon teacher who brought all sorts of instruments, especially percussion instruments.  We had a lot of fun with those instruments.

My younger son, Yusuf, did not want to have a lot of fuss.  So he had his “tefillin” ceremony on a Thursday morning and then we came home.  Again there were waiters and a lot of sweets and cakes for the guests, but he did not want to make a speech or have another ceremony on the Saturday morning at the synagogue.  So we just had the Thursday morning ceremony for him.

I learned how to cook from my mother and my friends.  There are certain very traditional Sephardic dishes that I like making very much.  The one I like best is “tomatoes filled with cheese”.  I used to cook those and they would like it at home.  Then we would make tomatoes again, this time filled with meat and cooked with a lot of sugar.  Also we have “almodrote de berendjena” [baked aubergines].  You take the aubergines, boil and peel and then squeeze them.  Then you add white cheese, “kasher” cheese [Turkish name for kosher yellow cheese, popular among both, Jews and non-Jews], a little bread, a little flour and an egg.  You mix all this and put it in an oven dish and bake it.   Then we have “bulemas”.  You take the “fila” dough, put cheese in long strips of the fila, then roll the strips into rose shaped “bulemas”.  You put them all on an oven tray, put grated cheese and egg yolk on them and then bake them.  Then there are the “bumuelos” for Pesah.  To make bumuelos, we soaked 3-4 matzot, then squeeze the water out.  We add one egg for each matza and a little salt.  We mix all this and then fry little balls of it in the special bumuelo pan.  They can be eaten with powdered sugar afterwards.

We had Jewish friends in Kurtulus and we saw them frequently.  During the week we used to play cards.  The husbands played poker and the wives played “relance” [a card game where the aim is to make sequences of at least three cards and finish the cards in your hand].  All our friends were Jewish.  They were all very good people of good families.  We also used to go to the cinema or theatre as a group as well.  When summer came we would often go to Buyukdere [a district on the Bosphorus, near the Black Sea] and swim.  I would say we had a “medium” social life.

My elder son, Sami, finished his secondary school at “Tarhan Koleji” [a private Turkish school founded in 1959 by Turkish statesman and educator Mumtaz Tarhan] in 1967.  He then went to Israel to study high school there.  It was fashionable those days; everyone was sending their kids to Israel to study.  Sami also wanted to go, so we sent him and he left with a few of his friends.  He went to study electronics there.  He studied for one year but he was not happy because they taught him not electronics but carpentry.  So after a year, he came back.  He finished the lycée at Tarhan Koleji.  Then later, he was able to get into university and he studied economics at the Iktisadi Ticari Ilimler Akademisi [Economics Academy in Osmanbey].

My sons grew up, they became young men, they had friends, they came they went.  My elder son, Sami married Ceni Levi in 1974.  In 1976 they had a son called Izel.  Izel studied in the Jewish High School 17.  He did not go on to university.  He did his military service and since he came back he has been working in the textile business.

In 1980, my elder son had a daughter called Sandy.  She finished “Kadikoy Kiz Lisesi” [private Turkish high school on the Asian side of Istanbul].  Then she studied tourism and hotel management at the University of Istanbul.  She has been working at the Swiss Hotel since she graduated.

My younger son Yusuf studied at the Saint Benoit [French Catholic high school] school.  He also started studying Economics at Istanbul University 18 but he couldn’t finish it because there was a lot of terrorism at the universities at that time 19.  So he went to do his military service.  In 1992, he married Karen Gerson and in 1996 they had a daughter called Selin.  Selin studies at a private primary school where she learns both turkish and english.

The foundation of the state of Israel had made us very happy.  I remember being very happy that morning when we heard the news and nothing else.  We never thought of doing our aliya there because we were content here.  Of course we had friends and family who went and settled in Israel.  My husband’s aunt, Fani Saranga for example was one of the first to go and settle in Israel with her family.

We do not have too many relations with the jewish community today; what I mean is, we are not members of any club or organization.  We try to follow our religious traditions and go to the synagogue at weddings, funerals, bar mitzvas and less frequently during the holidays.

Our children are not as religious as we used to be, nor have they raised their kids in the traditional way, but we have not had any conflicts about this with them.  We did not interfere.  Today, it is our children who gather the family and do family dinners.  We are tired and can’t do it any more.

We still meet with friends once a week.  I meet with my women friends: Jinet Behar, Zelda Matalon, Hayat Kubilay, Suzet Molinas, Margo Arditi and Zelda Behar.  We have been seeing each other for the last 20 years and we still go on.  We used to see each other outside the card playing days too but we can only meet once a week nowadays.  My husband also meets his friends for poker once a week.  When we come together as couples, the men play poker and the women play bridge.  That is all really.

We used to go on holidays until 3 years ago.  We went to places like Marmaris [a seaside resort on the Aegean], Ayvalik and Sarmisakli [seaside resorts on the Marmara].  We haven’t been able to go for the last 3 years because basically there is no one to go together with.

In the 1986 Neve-Shalom massacre we were at home and heard the news on TV 20.  We felt terrible and were extremely sad of course.
 
We got terribly upset when we heard the 2003 bombings, too 21.  We heard that on TV too.  We were really scared.

When we are alone with my husband we speak Ladino; with our friends we speak both Turkish and Ladino, but with our children we speak Turkish only.

Glossary

1 English High School Boys

  Founded in 1905 in the district of the Galata Tower by the British Consulate, primarely to provide comprehensive education for the children of the British colony in Istanbul.  In 1911, Sultan Mehmet V gave the British Embassy a 5-storeyed wooden building in Nisantasi for exclusively schooling purposes.  The school gained the status of high school in 1951 and also became coeducational.  In 1979 it was nationalized and renamed as Nisantasi Anatolian Lycee.
2  Robert College: The oldest and most prestigeous English language school in Istanbul, since the mid 19th Century providing education to the elite of Turkey as well as other countries in the region. Robert College, was born in 1863 in the village of Bebek by the Bosphorus, when Christopher Robert approached Cyrus Hamlin with his desires and found a receptive audience. Hamlin, an American schoolmaster, had been running a school, a bakery and a laundry in Bebek at the time. Robert was a wealthy American industrialist desiring to establish in Turkey a modern university along American lines with instruction in English. These two men, an educator and a philanthropist, successfully collaborated to found Robert College.Until 1971, it included two campuses: the actual  Robert College exclusively for boys and the American College for Girls.  In 1971, the American College for Girls and the Robert College boys school united and co-education started under the name of Robert College at the previous American College for Girls campus. On the same date, the Turkish government took over the boys campus, which  became Bogazici University (Bosphorus University). Robert College and today’s Bogazici University were and still are the best schools in Turkey.  Through the years, these schools have had graduates in the top positions in Turkey’s business, political, academic and art sectors.


3   Fez

Ottoman headgear. As a part of the Imperial Prescript of Gulhane (a westernizational 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 was widely used by the Ottoman population, regardless of religious affiliation, afterwards.  In the Turkish Republic it was considered backward and was outlawed in 1925 by the Head Law. In the Balkan countries fez was regarded an Ottoman (Turkish) symbol and was dropped after gaining independence.

4   Ataturk, Mustafa Kemal (1881-1938)

Great Turkish statesman, the founder of modern Turkey. Mustafa Kemal was born in Salonika; he adapted the name Ataturk (father of the Turks) when he introduced surnames in Turkey. He joined the liberal Young Turk movement, aiming at turning the Ottoman Empire into a modern Turkish nation state and also participated in the Young Turk Revolt (1908). He fought in the Second Balkan War (1913) and World War I. After the Ottoman capitulation to the Entente, Mustafa Kemal Pasha organized the Turkish Nationalist Party (1919) and set up a new government in Ankara to rival Sultan Mohammed VI, who had been forced to sign the treaty of Sevres (1920), according to which Turkey would loose the Arab and Kurdish provinces, Armenia, and the whole of European Turkey with Istanbul and the Aegean littoral to Greece. He was able to regain much of the lost provinces and expelled the Greeks from Anatolia. He abolished the Sultanate and attained international recognition for the Turkish Republic at the Lausanne Treaty (1923). Under his presidency Turkey became a constitutional state (1924), universal male suffrage was introduced, state and church were divided and he also introduced the Latin script.

5   Reforms in the Turkish Republic

After the establishment of the Turkish Republic (29th October 1923) Kemal Ataturk and the new Turkish government engaged themselves in great modernization efforts. Fundamental political, social, legal, educational and cultural reforms were introduced in the 1920s and 30s in order to bring Turkish society closer to the West and shape the republican polity. Ataturk had abolished the Sultanate earlier (1922); in 1924 he did so with the Caliphate (religious leadership). He closed down the dervish lodges, the turbes (tombs of worshipped holy people) and forbade the wearing of traditional religious costumes outside ceremonies. According to the Hat Law the traditional Ottoman fes was outlawed; surnames were introduced and the traditional nicknames were outlawed too. International measurement (metric system) as well as the Gregorian calendar was introduced alongside female suffrage. The republic was created as a secular state; religion and state were divided: the Shariah (Islamic law) courts were abolished and a new secular court was introduced. A new educational law was created; the institutes of Turkish History Foundation and Language Research Foundation were opened as well as the University of Istanbul. In order to foster literacy the old Arabic scrip was replaced with Latin letters.

6 Old People’s Home in Haskoy

Known as ‚Moshav Zekinim‘ in Hebrew and ‘Ihtiyarlara Yardim Dernegi’ (Organization to Help the Old) in Turkish.  It was opened in 1972 by the initiation of the Ashkenazi leadership in the building formerly housed an Alliance Israelite Universelle school and a rabinical seminary. Some 65 elderly members of the Jewish community currently reside in the home.

7   Sisli Beth-Israel Synagogue

  Founded in the 1920s by restoring the garage of a thread factory.  The first weddings took place in the early 1940s.  In the 1950s, with the demographic movements of the Jewish populations from Galata towards the Sisli area, the need to have a larger synagogue became prominent.  Two architects, Aram Deregobyan and Jak Pardo designed the project.  The new enlarged synagogue started its services in 1952.

8   Law of Primary Education

  As a part of the Reforms in the Turkish republic the ‚Law of Education‘ was passed in 1931, according to which compulsory primary education in Turkish was introduced, and consequently all non-Turkish primary schools were outlawed.  The Alliance Israelite Universelle schools were closed and all other foreign schools started their education only after 5th grade, after  primary school in Turkey.

9   Turkish Independence Day

  The Turkish Republic was founded on 29 October 1923.  Every year 29 October is celebrated as the Turkish Independence Day.  There are military parades, student parades, concerts, exhibitions and balls.  29 October is also a national holiday.

10   National Sovereignty and Children's Day

National day in Turkey. Kemal Ataturk dedicated April 23, the Sovereignty Day to the future generation. It was on this day in 1920 that, during the War of Independence, that the Grand National Assembly met in Ankara and laid down the foundations of a new, independent, secular, and modern republic from the ashes of the Ottoman Empire. Ever since "Sovereignty and Children's Day" is celebrated annually. It is celebrated at each school by performances and the children‘s representatives replace state officials and high ranking bureaucrats in their offices. On this day, the children also replace the parliamentarians in the Grand National Assembly and hold a special session to discuss matters concerning children's issues.

11   Wealth Tax

Introduced in December 1942 by the Grand National Assembly in a desperate effort to resolve depressed economic conditions caused by wartime mobilization measures against a possible German influx to Turkey via the occupied Greece. It was administered in such a way to bear most heavily on urban merchants, many of who were Christians and Jews. Those who lacked the financial liquidity had to sell everything or declare bankruptcy and even work on government projects in order to pay their debts, in the process losing most or all of their properties. Those unable to pay were subjected to deportation to labor camps until their obligations were paid off.


12  The 20 military reserve classes: In May 1941 non-Muslims aged 26-45 were called to military service. Some of them had just come back from their military service but were told to report for duty again. Great chaos occurred, as the Turkish officials took men from the streets and from their jobs and sent them to military camps. This was done in case the non-Muslims allied themselves with the enemies in case Turkey entered the war. They were used in road building for a year and disbanded in July 1942.


13   RICHARD

PLEASE KEEP THIS ENTRY FOR THE GLOSSARY EXACTLY AS IT IS.  THE ITEM YOU SENT ME IN THE 03 FILE HAS GRAVE MISTAKES AND DOES NOT MAKE SENSE.

Dear Karen, please pont out where zou find the mistakes in the rewritten glossarz and I will look into this. Please understand thai it is also important to keep glossaries as short as possible and straight to the point. the entrz on this pogrom is not to explain the historz of forced assimilation in turkey, mazbe we can write one on that too when it comes up, neither would we want to mention nothing about the armenian issues (in line with our agreement).

First of all the date has been entered wrong!!! It is not 1925 but 1955, so basically we want to mention political events that led to that date not get stuck in the 1920s. Karen

I would suggest you identifzing the ‚grave mistakes‘ in the shortened and edited entry and I will correct them. Please understand that glossaries are especially sensitive issues as they are the ‚objective‘ part of our work, therefore have to be as objective and also compact as possible. I am looking forward to the suggestions. Thanks a lot.

The 6th – 7th September 1955 events:  The basic policy of the first years of the Turkish Republic was to “turkify” all its citizens, demanding that they have a common history, culture and language.  The government knew that this was not easy to do with the non-muslim citizens.  With the events in 1915 with the Armenians, and the population exchange (Greeks with Turks) in 1924, there were barely any non-muslims left in Anatolia.  The government then turned its eye towards Istanbul, which hosted a large number of non-muslims, especially Greeks.  In the minority report written by the government, it was suggested that Istanbul be cleansed of all Greeks.  The catalyst in realizing this aim came with the problems that arose in Cyprus.  On 6th September, Istanbul awoke to the news in the papers about Ataturk’s house being bombed in Salonica.  This was not true, but the rumour became the spark that lit the rioting, looting and rape that followed.  It was later realized that most Greek houses and businesses had been marked beforehand.  Of course, other non-muslims got their share of the looting and destruction, too in the general frenzy.  All in all the result was: 3 people dead; 30 wounded; 1004 houses, 4348 shops, 27 pharmacies and laboratories, 21 factories, 110 restaurants and cafés, 73 churches, 26 schools, 5 sports clubs and 2 cemeteries were destroyed; 200 Greek women were raped.  A great wave of immigration occurred after these events and Istanbul was cleansed of its Greek population.

14 RICHARD

I HAVE REWRITTEN THIS ENTRY SO PLEASE CHANGE IT IN THE FINAL FILE.  THE CHANGES YOU MADE DID NOT EXPLAIN THE SITUATION CLEARLY.

Dear Karen, part of my job is to edit glossaries and make sure they are compact, short but contain all important information and written in an objective way, if possible in line with contemporary english language historiography. I do edit glossaries from all countries (holding an MA in Balkan History I have some insight to the isses I think). If you feel I am putting something wrong please let me know I promise I will make all necessary changes but I can not leave glossaries unedited as this is a part of my work as editor.

I would prefere you pointing out with all those glossaries zou do not agree with the problematic points and I promise, I will look into them and make changes in the next update, but I can not see putting unedited entries on the new update. Can you do that with both problematic ones and send them to me in a separate file? Thanks.

Citizen, speak Turkish policy:  In the years 1930’s – 1940’s, the rise of Turkish nationalism had the Turkification of the minorities as its goal.  The community that was mainly aimed however, were the Jews, with whom the Turks did not have a history of enmity.  The Salonican Jew Moise Cohen (1883-1961), who had been in close touch with the Young Turks in his home town in the years preceding the restoration of the Constitution, took the old turkish name Tekinalp and led a campaign among his fellow Jews to encourage them to speak only Turkish to integrate them fully into Turkish life declaring that “Turkey is your home, so you should speak Turkish”.  In the major culture however, the policy of “Citizen, speak Turkish” was seen as pressure put on minorities to speak Turkish in public places.  There was no law to enforce this but it was more of a social pressure to make sure everyone learned how to speak the language of the new country.  There was a lot of criticism and verbal attacks and jeers on those who did not comply with this social rule.

15 Donme

Crypto Jews in Turkey. They are the descendants of those Jews who, following the example of Shabbatai Tzvi (leader of the major false messianic movement in the 17th century), converted to Islam. They never integrated fully into the Muslim society though and preserved various distinctions: they married between each other, performed services in distinct mosques and buried their dead in separate cemeteries. Up until the Greek annexation of Southern Macedonia (1912, First Balkan War) they lived in Salonika and were relocated to Ottoman territory (mainly to Istanbul) with most of the rest of the Muslim population later.

16 Zulfaris Synagogue/Museum of Turkish Jews

Located in the previous Zulf-u arus street (meaning Bride’s Long Lock, today the street is called Perchemli Sokak which means Fringe Street) This synagogue, recorded in the Chief Rabbinate archives as Kal Kadosh Galata, is commonly known as Zulfaris Synagogue.  The word is derived from the former name of the street in which it is located:  Zulf-u arus, which means Bride’s Long Lock.  Today the street is called Perchemli Sokak which means Fringe Street.  There is evidence that this synagogue preexisted in 1671, when Haim Kamhi was Chief Rabbi, as the foundations date from the early 15th century Genovese period.  However, the actual building was re-erected over its original foundation, presumably in the early 19th century.  In the 1890’s, repair work was carried out with the financial assistance of the Camondo family and in 1904 restoration work was conducted by the Jewish community of Galata, presided over by Jak Bey de Leon. (source: www.muze500.com)


17 The Jewish High School:  In the 1920s/1930s, the Jewish community supported  Beyoglu Jewish Lycée was opened by the Bnai Brith in 1911 and taken over by Ashkenazi leader David Marcus in 1915 to replace the Alliance schools which had been closed by the French government because of the war.  Turkish was the language of instruction.  Hebrew studies were de-emphasized as a result of the 1932 law which forbade religious instruction in all Turkish schools.  The Beyoglu Jewish Lycée, which was located in Sishane near the Galata Tower is now located in its new location in Ulus [near the Jewish cemeteryin the modern part of Istanbul] and has taken the name “Ulus Ozel Musevi Lisesi”, meaning “Private Ulus Jewish Lycée”.

18 Istanbul University

  The University of Istanbul is one of the oldest universities in Europe (founded in 1453), and the oldest in Turkey. It was modernised by Kemal Atatürk in 1933. It has sixteen faculties on five campuses, the main campus being in Istanbul. It has a teaching staff of 2,000 professors and associates and 4,000 assistants and younger staff, and 60,000 undergraduate and 8,000 postgraduate students. Its graduates form the main source of academic staff for the Turkish university system, as well as providing a very large number of Turkish bureaucrats, professionals, and business people.
19  Terror at Turkish universities: In the period of 1975-1980 extreme tension arose between the so-called leftist and rightist fraction of the student body. The fight was about whether or not to make the Turkish Republic a religious Islamic state (leftist position) or preserve the secular nature (rightist position). There were further fights within the leftist fraction too, between the communists and socialists. University education turned into chaos already in 1975: instruction almost stopped, and many students were scared to attend classes, as there were a great number of murders. The only university that was able to continue with instruction was Bosphorus University, mainly because all of its student body was basically leftist. It took five years for the government to finally pacify the situation by a military coup in 1980.

20   1986 attack at the Neve-Shalom synagogue

  In September, 1986, Arab terrorists staged a terrorist attack with guns and grenades on worshippers in the synagogue, killing 23. The Turkish government and people were outraged by the attack. The damage was repaired, except for several bullet holes in a seat-back, left as a reminder.
21  2003 Bombing of the Istanbul Synagogues: On 15th November 2003 two suicide terrorist attacks occurred nearly simultaneously at the Sisli and Neve-Shalom synagogues. The terrorists drove vans loaded with explosives and detonated the bombs in front of the synagogues. It was Saturday morning and the synagogues were full for the services. Due to the strong security measures that had been taken, there were no casualties inside, however, 26 pedestrians on the street were killed; five of them were Jewish. The material loss was also terrible. The terrorists belonged to the Turkish branch of Al Qaida.


 

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.

Ella Perlman

Ella Perlman
Riga
Latvia
Interviewer: Ella Levitskaya
Date of interview: July 2005

Ella Perlman gave this interview at the Rahamim Social Center in the Latvian Society of Jewish Culture 1 after a choir rehearsal. Ella has been with this choir for over ten years. She is a petite lady with nicely cut, grayish hair. Ella is very genial and friendly. She has a charming smile brightening up her face. I felt like I’d known her for years, when talking to her. Ella is very elegantly dressed. She makes her own clothes. Her clothes, jewelry and make-up are well-matching. She looks young for her years. Although Ella has poor health, including heart problems and the related complications, she leads an active life. She sings in the choir, takes part in various Jewish activities, goes to the synagogue, attends a sports club in the Latvian Jewish community and goes to exhibitions. Ella is a good conversationalist and a very interesting person. She radiates optimism. Ella told me she was lucky to have met so many good people in life. Is it not that her very presence makes people better?

My family

Attitude to judaism

During the war

After liberation

Marriage and children

Life after the fall of communism

Glossary

My family

My father’s family came from Jelgava [about 50 km from Riga], a town in Latvia. My grandfather’s name was Zalman Greenfeld. He was born in Jelgava in 1875. All I know about my grandmother is that she was my grandfather’s first wife. In this marriage they had two sons. My father, Hershe Greenfeld, was born in 1900, and his younger brother, given the Russian name of Max [see common name] 2, was born in 1902. If my memory doesn’t fail me, his Jewish name was Mendl.

My grandmother died very young, soon after Max was born. After the required period of mourning my grandfather remarried and moved to Liepaja [about 200 km from Riga]. My grandfather’s second wife Ella, whose name I was given, raised my grandfather’s children. My grandfather had three other wives after my grandmother’s death, but none of them lived long, somehow. My grandfather was a tailor. I don’t mean to say that he was like those many tailor guys in Jewish towns, having to alter clothes several times. No, he was a real good tailor. He made new clothes for his wealthy clients.

Liepaja was a Jewish town within the Pale of Settlement 3. Its population was Jewish and German, for the most part. The Russian and Latvian population was smaller. The majority of the Jewish population were craftsmen, but there were also Jewish lawyers, doctors and tradesmen. There were many wealthy Jews in Liepaja. They owned houses, shops and stores. There was a synagogue and a Jewish cemetery in Liepaja. Residents of the town communicated in German, for the most part, even when Russian was the state language.

My grandfather was religious. I believe all Jews, irrespective of their wealth or skills, belonged to the Jewish culture. The wealthy and the poor alike observed Jewish traditions, went to the synagogue and celebrated Jewish holidays. My father’s family also observed Jewish traditions. They celebrated Sabbath and Jewish holidays at home, went to the synagogue and followed the kashrut.

My father and his younger brother studied in cheder. They also finished a Jewish general education school. Then they went to study for a vocation. My father became a barber’s apprentice, and later he worked in his tutor’s barber shop. Max studied the jeweler’s profession. He became a very skilled jeweler, and even opened his own shop. They both lived in Liepaja.

My mother’s family lived in Jaunjelgava [about 80 km from Riga], a small town in the north of Latvia. During the tsarist regime Jaunjelgava was located within the Pale of Settlement and there were many Jews living there. I didn’t know my maternal grandfather. His name was Zalman Westerman and he came from Jaunjelgava. This is actually all I can tell you about him.

My grandmother, Haya Westerman, was born in Birzai [about 100 km from Riga], Lithuania, on the border with Latvia. My great-grandmother died at childbirth, and my grandmother was raised by her relatives. I don’t know how my grandmother happened to get to Latvia where she met my grandfather. Perhaps, their marriage was prearranged, and my grandmother moved to Jaunjelgava after the wedding.

They were a religious Jewish family and observed all Jewish traditions. My grandfather owned a bakery and an inn where rafts men were customers. They rafted wood down the Daugava River. My grandmother helped him with cooking for the customers. 

There were six children in the family. My mother’s sister Sheine was the oldest. Then came Yakov. Liebe was the third child in the family. My mother Hana was born after her. I don’t know Mama’s exact birth date. All I know is that she was born in the late 1890s. There was also a boy, born after Mama. Mama told me he drowned in a well in infancy. The last child was Dora. I don’t know what kind of education Mama, her brother and sisters got. I think it might have been a Jewish elementary school. At least, they knew sufficient Hebrew to read a prayer. They spoke Yiddish in my mama’s family.

My grandmother and grandfather were religious. They celebrated Sabbath and Jewish holidays at home. My grandfather went to the synagogue on Sabbath. Yakov joined him, when he reached the proper age. On Jewish holidays the whole family went to the synagogue, including my grandmother and the daughters. They strictly followed the kashrut. I guess this was the common Jewish way of life in Jaunjelgava. In such small towns Jews followed traditions and, living in small communities, knew each other well.

When World War I began, the tsar ordered the deportation of Jews from the Baltic Republics, including Jaunjelgava, to Russia. The tsarist government had no big trust in Jews. Mama and her family were deported to Penza [Russia, about 600 km from Moscow]. Her older sister Sheine was married to Hershe Shmakovich, a Jewish man from Riga, at the time, and they had two daughters: Taube and Sara. Mama helped her to take care of the children. My grandfather died in Penza in 1915. They stayed in Penza for three years, and when the revolution began in Russia [cf. Russian Revolution of 1917] 4, the family managed to return to Latvia. They decided against going back to Jaunjelgava, and settled down in Riga. After the revolution the Pale of Settlement was cancelled, and Jews were allowed to live in any towns or cities they wanted.

My father also moved to Riga about that time. He saved some money, sufficient for opening his own barber’s shop. My father was hoping to have a good business in a bigger town, but unfortunately, it didn’t work that way. He may have been a skilled barber, but he was a poor businessman. He went bankrupt a few years later. My father went to work for Borowskiy, who owned a barber’s shop, and did much better than before.

During World War I Mama’s brother Yakov Westerman volunteered to the front. He served in the Latvian army and fought for the independence of Latvia, which was established in 1918 [cf. Latvian independence] 5. Yakov was awarded an Order of Lačplesis, also called a Bear Order, for his courage on the battlefield. This was an honorable award. There were only few awardees in Latvia, and they were much honored. In 1935 my uncle was awarded a plot of land in a mountain forest for his service to Latvia.

Grandmother Haya remarried. She had known her second husband, Mendl Gordon, before she married my grandfather. Gordon also came from Birzai. He was very much in love with my grandmother. When he heard she was engaged, he went to America looking for a better fortune. I don’t know how he was doing there, but when he heard from an acquaintance of his that my grandmother had become a widow, he went to Riga to propose to her. Mama told me that all the children were convincing Grandmother to give her consent to this marriage. Gordon was a good and kind man, and they all liked him. Besides, Grandmother was not that old to yield to grief.

Mama was a shop assistant, and my father did his shopping in this store. He must have liked her, coming to the store more and more often. They got to know each other and got married in 1924. They had a traditional Jewish wedding. Mama told me that Grandfather Zalman Greenfeld and Papa’s younger brother Max attended their wedding. After the wedding my parents rented an apartment. Mama quit her job after getting married.

I was the first child in the family. I was born in the maternity department of the Jewish hospital in 1926. My sister and both brothers were also born in this hospital. I was named Ella after my paternal grandfather’s second wife, who raised my orphaned father and his brother. My sister Joheved was born in 1928. In 1933 my brother Ber was born. His Russian name was Boris. My youngest brother Lipman was born in 1937. We still have a little silver spoon that was given to Lipman, when he was born. His name was engraved on it.

Boris had his brit milah at home. This was a big ceremony, and my father invited his friends and acquaintances. When Lipman was born, Mama had to stay in hospital a little longer, and Lipman had his brit milah in the hospital. I remember that many people attended the ceremony, including Borowskiy, my father’s employer. He was a nice and intelligent man. His wife was a dentist at the Jewish hospital Bikkur Holim 6.

My younger brother didn’t live long. When he was three months old, Mama had mastitis. She had to go to the hospital, and so did Lipman. The hospital was quite at a distance from home, and Mama had to change trams. Lipman caught a cold on the way. It developed into pneumonia. When Mama was released from the hospital, she still went there to look after my little brother. She fed him from a bottle. Once Mama returned home very happy. She said Lipman had a good appetite and should be recovering, but that very night he felt worse and the doctors failed to rescue him.

After Lipman died, we moved into the house where Mama’s sister Dora, her family, and Grandmother with her husband Gordon, whom we loved dearly and called ‘Grandfather,’ lived. Dora’s husband, Robert Haitman, who was born in Riga, was a foreman at the chocolate shop of a confectionery factory in Riga. Dora used to work at this factory before getting married. In 1927 Dora’s son Meishe was born.

I loved Grandmother Haya dearly, and often visited her. I remember playing with my cousin Meishe. They always had a chocolate bear on the table. The factory employees were given a big discount on factory products and Uncle Robert often brought chocolates home. Grandmother told us fairy tales and read stories from the Bible. We spoke Yiddish at home and learned German and Latvian playing with children in the yard.

Our apartment was on the fifth floor of a five-storied house. We had three rooms, a big living room and a kitchen, one children’s room, and there was also one little room where relatives and guests stayed during their visits. Mama’s sister Liebe and her family lived in the apartment on the same floor. Liebe’s marital name was Monchnik. Liebe’s husband Mikhl Monchnik was a shoemaker. Liebe was a cook at the canteen in the Jewish school. They had four children: the older daughter Fani, the sons Zalman, Abram and the younger Motl, who was almost the same age as me.

Mama’s older sister Sheine also lived in Riga. Besides the older daughters Taube and Sara she had two sons: Menahem, born in 1922, and Zalman, born in 1924. Sheine was a housewife. Her husband and older daughters worked. Uncle Hershe was a butcher, Taube was a dressmaker, and Sara worked at the confectionery. Menahem, the older son, died from tuberculosis, when he was in his teens. Zalman was an active Zionist 7, and immigrated to Palestine in the early 1930s.

My father’s brother Max Greenfeld, his wife Gusta and daughter Meriam also lived in Riga. Max was a well-to-do jeweler, and the family was wealthy. Max always gave us jewelry that he made himself on my mother’s, my sister’s and my birthday. I remember a nice silver chain with a magen David that I received from my uncle. I always wore it.

In the mid-1930s Dora and her family moved to Palestine. Their daughter Sara was born one year before they left. In Israel their son Alik was born. After Dora left, my grandmother and grandfather moved in with us. Life was hard: the family was big, and only my father worked and provided for the family. My parents and all children shared one room, my grandmother and grandfather lived in another room, and we had tenants renting the third room from us. These tenants were people coming to Riga looking for a job. We always had two to three tenants. This was our additional income, however small the amount was. It goes without saying that we only had Jewish tenants. When we, the children, grew older and could no longer share one room, my grandmother and grandfather found an apartment on our street. We visited them every day, and Grandmother was always happy to see us. 

Attitude to judaism

Our family observed Jewish traditions. On Friday morning Mama made food for two days. She baked challah and rolls for Saturday, and left a pot with chulent in the stove to keep hot till the following day. In the evening Mama and Grandmother, at the time when she was still living with us, lit candles and prayed over them. Then the family sat down to dinner. There was challah, chicken broth and gefilte fish on holidays.

We followed the kashrut, and Mama even kept utensils for meat products and those for dairy products in different cupboards not to be mixed. We also had separate utensils for Pesach. They were only used once on this holiday and then stored in the cupboard till the time came again. If special utensils were not enough, additional ones needed to be koshered. Mama had a big zinc plated tub, where utensils were put and water and ash was placed. They were kept there for some time before they were boiled. After this procedure utensils could be used at Pesach.

The apartment was thoroughly cleaned before Pesach. Breadcrumbs were collected. I remember Grandfather Gordon looking for chametz, sweeping them into a wooden spoon with a goose feather. Then they were wrapped in a cloth and burned in the kitchen stove. We had a black cast iron stove and the pipe connected to the chimney. Mama used to buy thin wood log bundles from a Jewish vendor. The thin logs were less expensive. After burning the chametz we could get the Pesach dishes and cover the table with a white table cloth. We only ate matzah through all the days of the holiday. There was not a single breadcrumb at home on Pesach. Mama and my aunt cooked a lot of delicious food on a holiday. They always made beigelech, aingemahtz, that is, radishes cooked in honey, and imberlach, a delicacy of carrots with orange zest. On Pesach they always made beetroot kvas. There was also gefilte fish, chicken broth and matzah puddings with eggs.

We also had seder at home. Grandmother and Grandfather visited us. Aunt Liebe and her family also visited us at times. My father and grandfather, wearing white clothes, reclined on cushions [Editor’s note: according to the Jewish tradition the eldest man in the family, the one who conducted the seder, was supposed to recline on something soft (usually pillows were used for that), which was the embodiment of relaxation and exemption from slavery]. My grandfather conducted the seder. He broke matzah into three pieces, and hid one between the cushions. One of the children was to steal this piece of matzah, and then request ransom for it. My brother posed the four traditional questions to my grandfather.

There was a dish with all traditional Haggadah products: bitter greeneries, salt water, horseradish and grated apples. On Pesach all drank red wine, and the children also had a little wine poured into their little wine cups. A big glass of wine was placed in the center of the table for Elijah the Prophet. We recited prayers and sang Pesach songs.

We also celebrated other Jewish holidays at home. On Yom Kippur we always conducted the kapores ritual, using money instead of live chickens. Later the money was given to the synagogue for the poor. My parents fasted 24 hours according to the rules. The children were allowed to skip fasting, but we always asked Mama to allow us a half-day fasting. We were eager to feel like real Jews. On Rosh Hashanah Mama cut apples and served them with honey.

On Sukkot we had meals and prayed in the sukkah in the yard. Most tenants in our house were Jews. They made a stationary case for the sukkah in the yard, and it took no time to make a sukkah from tree branches and decorate it with flowers and ribbons. There was a table and chairs placed inside, so that all tenants could use it. On Chanukkah Mama lit another candle each day in the chanukkiyah, which was her dowry. On Chanukkah all guests of the house gave small change to the children. The total amount was sufficient to buy sweets or a little toy.

On holidays our parents always took us to the synagogue. We particularly liked the Simchat Torah holiday. It was a joyful and merry holiday. We had special flags, and each flag was stuck into an apple. I always felt excited, when the Torah was taken out. I still have this feeling.

Besides Jewish holidays, we also celebrated our family members’ birthdays and our parents’ wedding anniversaries. We also visited our relatives. When there were going to be many guests, we had celebrations in Aunt Sheine’s apartment. They had a big apartment, and our large family got together there. We were very close. We all loved our grandmother and supported her. Yakov, my parents and Mama’s sisters gave Grandmother monthly allowances. It was just occasionally that I heard about it. They didn’t do it ostentatiously, but they honored their parents and always supported them.

The boys had their bar mitzvah, when they turned 13. It was a big ceremony. A boy was told to approach the Torah for the first time at the synagogue, and then he put on tefillin and tallit. Since that moment he was considered to be a grown up man, and could take part in the minyan like adult men. In the evening there was a party for friends and relatives. I attended the bar mitzvah of my cousins Zalman Shmakovich and Zalman Monchnik. Even my father’s sister, living in Johannesburg, [South] Africa, visited Zalman Monchnik’s bar mitzvah. I was told to read the excerpt from the Torah about the destruction of the temple in Israel. I was ten years old, but I remembered this moment for the rest of my life.

The Jewish life in Riga was rather active. There were a few Jewish publishing houses issuing a number of newspapers and magazines. The Jewish boys, who wanted to earn some money, rushed to publishing houses to take newspapers to sell them. They even competed in who was selling more. There were books in Yiddish and Hebrew. There were Jewish hospitals, elderly and ill people’s shelters and children’s homes. There was a Jewish vocational school where children from Jewish families could learn a vocation for free.

There were a number of charity societies. I remember a courier collecting donations for poor brides coming to our house. Girls were given money to buy a wedding dress and pay the wedding party expenses. Some organizations collected second-hand clothes and shoes for the poor. There were many Jewish stores. In some stores needy people could pay for things in installments with no interest charges. There were many good things done for the poor.

There were small and big Jewish stores. I remember two haberdashery stores in our street. One owner was a man and the other owner was a lady. When the man saw a customer heading to his competitor’s store, he would start pulling him/her by his/her sleeve to his store. Shop assistants from a clothes store on Mariyas Street appealed to pedestrians: ‘Come in and keep buying! You’ll get a discount!’

There were a few Jewish schools in Riga. Some taught in Yiddish and others taught in Hebrew. We went to the school where subjects were taught in Yiddish. The son of the rabbi of Rezekne [a city 242 km east of Riga] was the director of this school. We started school from a preparatory class. My aunt Liebe worked as a cook at this school. My cousin brothers and sisters also studied in this school, and we used to go to school together in the morning. This was a general education school, but we also studied religion and traditions and had Hebrew classes. I can still remember the Hebrew I studied at school. I can read, though I do not understand all words. We had to say a prayer before classes.

At school we received textbooks free of charge, and also, had free lunches. Aunt Liebe was a terrific cook, and we liked the food at school. I was a lively girl. I liked classes of physical education most of all. I was thinking of becoming a teacher of physical education, when I grew up. I was very fond of exercises on rings and bars. Every other day my school friend Basia Solomon, four classmate boys and I went to the Maccabi [World Union] 8 gym where we had gymnastics classes. We had a school uniform. My school friend’s grandfather made uniform berets for the school. It was a black velvet beret with a white ribbon on one side. We wore these berets shifting them to one side a bit. My younger brother wanted a beret, and my parents ordered one for him, though he didn’t go to school yet.

We had celebrations at school. We had no classes on Jewish holidays, but we had parties on children’s holidays. School children gave concerts, and our parents attended them. There was a buffet and games. I also remember the song festival. This holiday was celebrated in Latvia in spring. Choirs from all over the country arrived in Riga and gave concerts in the park on the bank of the Daugava River. School choirs also gave concerts. Our school choir also took part in this holiday. Vendors were selling sweets, rolls and toys. At school we received files with coupons, for which we could get these treats for free. The expenses were covered by the Jewish community. I also remember vendors selling hot dogs. They were pork sausages, and at school the coupons for hot dogs were removed, so that none of us got tempted by this non-kosher food. We had kosher sausages with us. Aunt Liebe made a cranberry drink that we also took with us. The last song festival for schoolchildren took place in spring 1941.

My sister and I helped our mother about the house. In the morning Mama told me what I was to buy at the market after school. I always went to the market, when Mama did, and she showed me how to choose the products to buy. I knew the best vendors to buy meat, sauerkraut or vegetables from. The vendors also wanted to sell the best they had to the children, for them to have no problems at home about whatever they bought. On my way home I used to stop to look at the house being constructed nearby. Workers climbed steep ladders with a board loaded with bricks on their back. Looking at this house nowadays brings back the memories of those days. 

On Saturday my parents didn’t do any work at home. On Sunday Mama usually did the laundry. My father’s customers, who wanted a shave or a haircut at home, made his additional earnings. In the summer, Sunday was a day off. Sometimes my father and the children went to the beach on the Daugava River. He was a good swimmer and taught us to swim. Mama also went with us every now and then.

During summer vacations Aunt Liebe went to work as a cook in the summer camp for young people in the vicinity of Riga. Young people had training in agricultural activities, preparing to move to Palestine. This was a camp of Betar 9, an organization for young people. Aunt Liebe’s sons also stayed in this camp in the summer, and we visited them on Sundays. All children went to camps in the summer. All Jewish organizations for young people had camps: Betar, Maccabi and Hashomer Hatzair 10. They were called children’s colonies.

We went to the colony at the Riga seashore. Everything was very well organized. We were assigned to units. Each unit had a tutor and teachers. If the weather was agreeable, we went to bathe in the sea in the morning. We had a big basket with sandwiches with us. We were not even hungry enough to eat them. After the swim we had lunch back at the camp, and then it was time for an afternoon nap. Those, who didn’t feel like taking a nap, were allowed to read a book quietly. After this nap time we had afternoon tea and went to the forest where we picked flowers and berries and played. Then we returned to the camp and had classes. We recited poems, drew and did handicrafts. When we didn’t go for a walk, we played or went to the gym. It was fun.

I remember Hiva and Gerta, the teachers. Hava taught us to embroider, knit and sew. I liked it. Once, my brother, my sister and I fell ill with mumps in the camp. We were taken to the special medical quarters, where the camp doctor looked after us until Mama came to take us home. When we recovered, we were allowed to stay another month in the camp to compensate for the days of our illness. So, we lived a good life before the establishment of the Soviet regime [cf. Annexation of Latvia to the USSR] 11, a much better life than what was described in the Soviet mass media later.

Hitler came to power in Germany in 1933, but then I was too young to have any understanding of what was going on. All I remember is that in the late 1930s a boat with Jewish refugees from Austria and Germany arrived in Latvia. No other country wished to accept them. President Ulmanis 12 accepted all Jewish refugees, and also, issued Latvian passports to them. Therefore, I’m rather critical of the statements that strong anti-Semitism was demonstrated during the rule of Ulmanis. Would an anti-Semite help Jewish refugees? No, he would have sent them to die in fascist Germany without giving it much thought.

I don’t think Jews lived badly during the rule of Ulmanis. My distant relative’s husband took part in the war for independence of Latvia, like my uncle. He died in 1938, and the government had a gravestone installed on his grave. ‘To a defender of Latvia’ was engraved on the gravestone. Jews and non-Jews, veterans of the war for liberation, were buried in the same way then.

I remember Soviet troops coming to Riga in 1940. My cousin was in hospital at the time, and I went to visit him. On my way back I saw tanks on the streets of Riga. The faces and clothes of the tank men were dust-covered. The tanks drove slowly, and boys ran after them climbing on their armor. People threw flowers to the tank men. People had no concerns about the annexation of Latvia to the Soviet Union. All they knew about life in the USSR was what they read in newspapers or heard on the radio.

Besides, before these events, President Ulmanis had addressed the people with the appeal to stay quiet. He finished his speech saying, ‘Stay where you are, and so will I.’ However, he didn’t keep his position for long. The Soviet regime arrested and killed Karlis Ulmanis, but this was still ahead of us, and nobody could tell what it was going to be like. We believed the Russians would protect us from German invasion. I remember how upset I was about not knowing the Russian language.

Shortly after Latvia was annexed to the USSR, election to the Seim [Latvian Parliament] took place, and the communists came to power in Latvia. There was a ban on any other party. All political leaders of pre-Soviet Latvia and many Jewish religious activists were arrested in the course of the first year of the Soviet power. Most of them perished in Stalin’s camps [cf. Gulag] 13. However, the life of our family didn’t change, except that my parents received Soviet passports instead of their Latvian passports that they had before. My father kept working in the barber’s that no longer belonged to its previous owner. Mama was a housewife, and we studied at school. This was a Jewish school, only the new regime appointed a Jewish communist woman to be the new director. Religious classes were cancelled and the prayer before classes was no longer allowed.

We became pioneers [cf. All-union pioneer organization] 14 at school. We didn’t quite understand what this was all about, but we knew this was the right thing to do at the time. There was a Palace of pioneers established and I went in for gymnastics there. I was doing well and became a member of the Latvian team to participate in the children’s sports event in Moscow in summer 1941. However, this was not to happen due to the war.

Many of my father’s clients were Soviet officers. My father could speak some Russian, and maybe for this reason they preferred him to other barbers. My father told us what they had talked about. We found their views weird. They were shocked by the plenitude of goods in our stores, while we found this only natural. If there is nothing in a store that means that the store is bankrupt. They were surprised there were continuous exhibitions in our parks and they were free for the most part. The officers’ wives believed embroidered and laced night gowns to be evening gowns that they wore to parties at the Officers’ House. This may sound funny, but this was true. Officers had money in the Soviet Union, but they could hardly buy anything for this money. This was the first time in their life that their wives saw what night gowns might be like.

During the war

My father heard on the radio about the attack of Germany on the Soviet Union on 22nd June 1941 [cf. Great Patriotic War] 15. Mama, remembering the escape of Jewish refugees to Latvia, insisted that we left promptly. She used to say that the annexation of Latvia to the Soviet Union gave us a chance to survive by fleeing to the rear of Russia where the German army couldn’t reach us. My father was more optimistic about the situation, saying that Germans had already been in Latvia in 1915, and did no harm to the Jews. He was sure that the Germans were only going to fight the Bolsheviks 16, and had nothing against the Latvian population. However, he didn’t really argue with Mama.

Many of our relatives shared my father’s opinion. Taube, Mama’s sister Sheine’s older daughter, immigrated to Palestine in the 1930s. She got married there. Her marital name was Psafka. When Taube got pregnant, she came to her mother in Riga. She stayed another year in Riga before she went back to Palestine with her son. Shortly before the war Taube visited her parents again. She was with her son. Sheine’s other daughter Sara was single and worked as a shop assistant in a store. Sheine’s family bluntly refused to go. Sheine’s husband’s parents stayed in Riga during World War I. They were telling people how loyal Germans were to Jews. They were sure that however hard Germans persecuted Jews in their own country, this wasn’t going to be the case in other countries.

My father’s brother Max didn’t want to leave Riga either. He was a skilled jeweler and was sure that he was going to do much better, when the Germans came to Latvia. Mama’s brother Yakov and his wife also decided to stay. Grandmother Haya and her husband Gordon refused to evacuate. They said they were too old to move elsewhere, and they feared evacuation much more than staying in Riga and the fascist regime. Only Mama’s older sister Liebe agreed with Mama and believed it was best to leave Riga.

Meanwhile, we were still in Riga. Grandfather Zalman Greenfeld, who came from Liepaja to visit his sons in Riga, died before the Germans came to the town. He was buried at the Jewish cemetery in Riga. Bombings began two days after the war began. They were most frequent at nighttime, though the Germans used to drop bombs during the day, too. The air warning was on and we had to go to the bomb shelter. There were a few Jewish families living in our house. One was Rabbi Katz and his family. The owner of the house was a Jewish man. There were two Latvian tenants: the janitor of the house and a tenant, whose surname was Kalnynsh.

One night we didn’t go to the bomb shelter. My cousin was ill and couldn’t go with us, and we didn’t want to leave him alone. However, we didn’t stay in our apartment either. We spent the night in our neighbor’s apartment on the first floor. That night we saw two young Latvian guys wearing military uniforms in the yard. They were looking into the windows on the first floor. They were probably looking for Jews. Then they climbed into Kalnynsh’s apartment through the window, and we knew it was time for us to escape.

In the morning we went to the railway station to get train tickets. At first we were thinking of going to Moscow where we had distant relatives, but there were no tickets available. We went back home, packed our luggage and went back to the railway station. Aunt Liebe’s family and Aunt Sheine’s younger son Zalman went with us. There was a train at the platform, but no boarding was announced. We decided to board the train anyway and take whatever there was ahead of us. Nobody asked us for tickets. Some time later the train started without any announcement of departure. We were lucky to leave Riga a few days before German forces occupied it.

We left on 28th June. We had little luggage to travel light. Fortunately, 28th June was a cold and rainy day and Mama told us to wear warm coats. This served us well later. Mama had some extra underwear and a change outfit for each of us. She also took rings and earrings that Uncle Max, Father’s brother, had given us. He gave my sister and me golden earrings on the occasion of finishing elementary school. Also, I had earrings from my grandmother. Mama had some jewelry as well. We had gold and silver, but we had lost our home. My father had a small suitcase packed with his instruments. He said that as long as he had his instruments we were not going to lack food. Even on the train he had clients that wanted a shave every day. I don’t know whether he charged them or not.

There was a severe air raid in Pskov, and a bomb hit the last carriage of our train. We were told to board freight carriages. Air raids were frequent. When German planes were there, the train stopped and all passengers scattered hiding around. The most critical hardship was lack of water. It’s far more difficult to have no water than to have no food. When the train stopped people rushed looking for a puddle or a pond. We sucked this water in through handkerchiefs.

I had never left Latvia before. When our train crossed the Russian border, and when we were already in Belarus, it was enough to look out of the window to know that we were no longer in Latvia. How different Russian villages were from Latvian ones! Those were half-ruined huts, overrun with weeds, and what huge contrast they made to tiny cottages and well-groomed farm fields in Latvia. It was very sad to leave Latvia without knowing, when we were going to see it again.

I don’t remember the name of the village we lived in through the first few months in evacuation. I remember a big, sooty hut where a woman and her many children lived. We were accommodated in her house. Two young guys from Jaunjelgava joined us on the way. Their surname was Mikhlson. They were accommodated in the house with us. I remember Mama and Aunt Liebe making bread in the oven.

Sometime in September our men were recruited to the Soviet Army 17. They were my father, Mikhl Monchnik, Liebe’s husband, their older son Zalman, my cousin Zalman Shmakovich and the Mikhlson brothers. There were only women and children left. However, our men returned. When recruitment officers found out they were Latvian, they were sent back. [Editor’s note: The Soviet regime did not trust those who lived in the areas that were annexed to the USSR. In particular, it restricted their freedom of movement. They were not supposed to be close to the border to prevent them from escaping from the country].

The news spread across the village promptly, and we felt the hatred toward us. We were forced to leave the village. The locals were saying that our men bought off their release from the army, when their husbands and sons were dying at the front, having no money to pay. My parents realized that the situation was dangerous and decided to go to Penza, where Mama’s family lived during World War I. We managed to catch a train in that direction, but we never reached Penza. Uncle Mikhl got off the train, when it stopped, to buy some food and missed the train. We had previously agreed that if one of us missed the train, the others were to get off at the next station and wait. The next station was Perm [about 1100 km from Moscow]. We stayed in the evacuation point in Perm waiting for Mikhl, and it took us quite a while, until finally we were sent to the kolkhoz 18 Shirokiy Log, Badyn district, Perm region. We took a boat going down the Kama River, went as far as Osa, where we crossed the river and got to the kolkhoz village on horse-drawn wagons.

When we were crossing the river on a boat, my father’s suitcase with the instruments fell into the water, and my father was very upset. He hoped very much to support us doing his job. However, when the chairman of the village office heard that my father was a barber, he found a hair-cutting machine and gave it to my father. My father could work now. Uncle Mikhl was a good shoemaker, and he also had sufficient work in the village.

We worked in farm fields. We came from a town and were no good at farm work, but we learned how to work with reaping hooks or manage the horses. I remember Mama and me working at the cropping, harvesting crops and then making sheaves. We had scratches from the straw, they were sore and painful. After the harvesting we were sent to work with a threshing machine. Mama threw sheaves into the threshing machine, and I led the horses in circles to keep the threshing machine working. Then we worked at a big, wooden fanning machine.

Every morning we covered a few kilometers to get to work. I went to the stables to get the horse and go to the threshing machine. I led the horse by the bridle rein, when one day I thought, ‘Why not ride the horse?’ I tried to climb on the horse’s back, when it hit me on my stomach with its hoof. Fortunately, it was not too bad. However, since then I feared going to the stables, and asked somebody to take the horse out of there before I took the bridle to ride the horse. When the field work was over, I learned spinning. Some villagers kept sheep and brought me sheep wool. I spun the wool, dyed the yarn and learned to knit. I received food products for my work.

Mama worked at the kolkhoz barn yard. She shoveled the grain to keep it from rotting. The crew leader was a kind woman. She knew how hard it was to provide for a big family. The villagers were Tatar people for the most part, but Luba, the crew leader, was Russian. After work she told Mama to put grain into her mittens to cook it for the children at home. We starved and ate anything we could. When a horse died, it was not buried. It was cut into pieces, and villagers cooked them to eat.

The first spring in the village was particularly bad. The three of us picked sprouts growing through the snow. Mama made soup from them. It was just this grass and water. We didn’t even have salt. This soup caused much pain in the stomach. It was impossible to eat it, but we couldn’t help eating it. At least, it filled the stomach for some time.

We had to do something. I saw beggars coming to the village, and villagers gave them something. My brother and I went to other villages. Beggars in Russian villages begged saying ‘for Christ’s sake’ crossing themselves. I knew it was sinful for Jews to cross themselves, but then we would have got nothing, if we didn’t. We begged saying ‘for Christ’s sake’ and crossing ourselves, and in the evening I prayed begging the Lord to forgive my brother and me for this sin. The Lord did forgive us and helped us to survive.

Life improved after this spring in 1942. In the spring we were given a plot of land to make a vegetable garden. The soil was loamy, but it wasn’t too bad to grow vegetables. The carrots were so big; I’ve never seen carrots this big ever since. Growing vegetables took a lot of effort, but there were so many vegetables that they were sufficient to get us through the winter. We had potatoes and onions, made sauerkraut in barrels and pickles. We picked mushrooms in the woods and dried them for the winter. We feared hunger no longer and felt more confident.

At first we were accommodated in the house of a local tenant, but later we were accommodated in a vacant house. There was more space for us, but now we had to think about the wood to heat the house. The temperatures dropped to minus 50. I went to the woods to cut trees. I cut a tree, chopped it up and took it home on sledges. We made plank beds, and when it was too cold, we slept on the Russian stove 19 bench.

We heard that the Latvian division 20 was established. My cousins and the Mikhlson brothers went to the military office. They were recruited to the army. My father was over the military age and volunteered to the Labor army 21. Aunt Liebe and her family moved to Badyn, the district town 25 kilometers from our village. There were four of us left: Mama, my sister Joheved, my brother Boris and I. Life was hard, but we knew there was nobody to help us and we had to take care of ourselves. Mama baked bread in the Russian stove. She made brew in a tub, and then made dough. Then she had to bake the loaves. There was a special wooden shovel to put the loaves into the stove and take them out of there. We had heavy cast iron pots that we could only handle with special holders. It was hard to learn things about living in the village, but when we did, things started improving.

Mama was a good housewife. She even used potato peels to make soup. There were many bird cherry trees around. We dried the berries, milled them into powder, and Mama made jelly drink from it. We used everything we had at hand. However, there was no rescue from hunger. Joheved was a weak and sickly girl. She was constantly ill and kept coughing. Mama was concerned about her developing tuberculosis. Fortunately, we had neighbors that had evacuated from Leningrad. It was a family. The husband was a party activist, and was appointed the second secretary of the district party committee in the district town. He helped Mama to make arrangements for my sister to go to the children’s health center for evacuated children from Leningrad. The children were provided with food, medications, and there was a school at the center. 

There was no school in our village, and we had to cover a few kilometers going to school in another village. We had no shoes. My brother wore birch cortex baste shoes. We didn’t have any cloth to give him to wrap his feet and he had his feet rubbed sore and had to stay home. We treated him with whatever we had at hand, but it didn’t work. I had to take my brother to the local medical office where the doctor’s assistant treated him. That man from Leningrad that helped Mama to make arrangements for my sister to go to the health center suggested that Mama sent my brother to the children’s home where he would be provided with food and could go to school. My brother didn’t stay there long. All the children had lice. The food was far from being good. The personnel of the children’s home stole food products from the children.

My brother ran away from the home and told the story to our acquaintance from Leningrad. The audit confirmed everything he said. The employees involved in violations were punished, but my brother bluntly refused to go back to the children’s home. He said he’d rather starve with us than go back to the home. He was given valenki boots [warm Russian felt boots] in the children’s home, and now he could go to school in the district town. I couldn’t attend school. I had to go to work to help my mother provide for the family.

My brother and I shepherded the kolkhoz cows. We were promised to be given milk for our work every day, but they didn’t keep their promise. I was afraid of milking cows. Cows might kick or hit you with their horns. There were a few goats in the herd. My brother used to hold them while I milked them. My brother and I drank some milk, and brought the rest of it home. Probably, if it hadn’t been for this milk, we wouldn’t have survived. 

Occasionally Mama visited Aunt Liebe in the district town, and they visited us at times. Uncle Mikhl was a shoemaker. Their older daughter Fani was a skilled dressmaker. Before Latvia was annexed to the Soviet Union she worked for the wealthy owner of a garment store. Her master sent her to Paris to purchase fabric and latest designs. During the Soviet regime Fani continued working in the garment store. She made clothes for local customers. Their older son Zalman was in the army. Their middle son Abram was retarded due to meningitis in infancy. He was not subject to military service. Their younger son Motl, who was the same age as me, fell ill with pleurisy, when we were in the kolkhoz. He needed medications and good food, and Fani worked from morning till night to provide these for him. She didn’t have good food herself, giving whatever she had to her brother. When Fani became too weak, she was taken to hospital where they determined she had tuberculosis. She managed to bring her brother to recovery, but nobody could help her. There were no medications, good food or warm clothes.

Then another sorrow hit the family. Uncle Mikhl, while working at the shoemakers’, talked to other employees, and once he mentioned that life in Latvia had been much better before the Soviet times. Somebody reported on him and he was arrested. There were investigations and then a trial. Fani died on the day of the court sitting. My uncle was sentenced to five years in the Gulag. Motl was regimented to the army, and my aunt was left there with Abram. Liebe sent Abram to talk to us and convince us to move to the district center. Mama was reluctant to leave the kolkhoz. We already knew people and they knew and supported us. They were Tatars, for the most part. We learned to speak some Tatar. We also knew our ways with getting food. We grew vegetables and had goat milk.

However, Mama did want to give Aunt Liebe a hand, and we decided we should move in with them. Abram and I went to the town, and Mama and the younger children were supposed to join us later. The kolkhoz promised to provide them with a wagon. Abram and I were to walk 25 kilometers to the town, but this wasn’t the worst thing about getting there. It was in spring, and the flood had washed away the bridge across the river. I had to cross the river as deep as above my waist, and the water was ice cold. The Lord helped me and I didn’t fall ill.

A few days later Mama, my sister and brother arrived. We had to start our life from scratch. Mama and I worked at the local factory. In winter we tousled the wool that made the material for making felt boots. In summer Mama worked as a janitor at the factory. Life was very hard. Abram cut wood at the lumber storage. He suggested I went to work with him. We went to the wood where he cut trees, and I was to pull them to the road. The snow was deep and the tree trunks were heavy. This was hard work. It was more difficult than cutting those trees. In summer we went to work at our vegetable garden. We had to cover 25 kilometers to get there. At times we were lucky when somebody gave us a ride on a wagon or in a tractor. When the weather was agreeable, we stayed overnight in the woods near the vegetable garden.

I remember a postman walking along the streets in Badyn at night. The women ran out into the streets and stood stock still wondering if he would pass by or bring them a letter or a death notification. We also looked forward to letters from the front. Zalman sent two or three letters before we received a notice that Private Zalman Monchnik had perished in action near Leningrad in November 1942. Motl sent his last letter from Poland in 1944. He wrote that the Germans were retreating, the Red Army was chasing the enemy away and the war would be over soon. We never heard from him again. No letter or death notification.

My father also wrote us letters. After serving some time in the Labor army he volunteered to the front. He wrote brief letters, but at least we knew that he was alive. This gave us hope. We kept writing letters to our relatives in Riga, but never heard back from them. We tried to search for them through the evacuation bureau, but they responded they were not in their records. We had no information about them, but we were hoping for the better.

My cousin brother Abram also received a subpoena to the army. He wasn’t fit for military service, but he had to prove this and had to go to the medical commission. He had to go to another town some 90 kilometers from our district center. My aunt was very concerned about this trip, since he was her only surviving child. I accompanied Abram to the town. The trip took us a few days. We stayed with Tatar families overnight. The medical commission acknowledged that Abram wasn’t fit for military service. Abram and I went back home.

We kept track of the news from the front. When we heard that the Soviet forces reached Latvia, we rejoiced. We hoped that it wasn’t going to be long before we could return home. On 9th May 1945 we heard on the radio that Germany had capitulated and the war was over. Everybody was happy, greeting each other, but this happiness was mixed with sorrow and tears for those, who never lived to see this day. We were waiting for news from my father, hoping to go back home together, but there was nothing from him. We finally left, hoping that my father would find us.

There were other tenants living in our apartment. They had no information about our family. Fortunately, our former neighbor Kalnynsh was still there and he knew about our relatives. Kalnynsh told me that my father was alive, though he was an invalid. He was severely wounded in his leg in battles for Latvia. After the hospital my father returned to Riga and spent a night at the Kalnynsh apartment. He left the morning after, telling Kalnynsh that he wanted to be no burden to his family.

Kalnynsh also told me that my uncle Hershe Shmakovich returned from the [Riga] ghetto 22 and lived in his apartment. We went to see my uncle. He was there alone. His family had died in the ghetto. He was also in the ghetto with his family, including his daughter Taube and her two-year-old son, who had come from Palestine to visit the family. Sara, Hershe’s second daughter, was killed by Latvians before the Germans came to Riga.

Uncle Hershe was in the ghetto. Able-bodied men were separated from women, children and old people. Prisoners of the ghetto were killed in the Rumbula forest 23. They were to walk there, and if somebody fell exhausted they were killed on the way. The Germans needed specialists. They needed food, clothes and needed people to fix those. They were in need of shoemakers, tailors and barbers. My uncle was one of them. My uncle worked as a butcher. He didn’t only cut meat, but also made sausages and smoked meat. He was also the best at making salt meat. I’ve never had such delicious salt meat as he had made. He made salt beef for holidays. He took brisket meat and tongue, rubbed them with salt and garlic and added some saltpeter to make it pinkish.

These workers were kept in separate quarters that were guarded. They were taken to work on trucks. Later they were kept in the Salaspils 24 camp for some time, and from there they were taken to a ‘Dulag’ in Liepaja from where prisoners were sent to concentration camps in Germany. [Editor’s note: ‘Dulag’ is an abbreviation of the German word ‘Durchgangslager’ meaning ‘transit camp.’]

The prisoners of the ‘Dulag’ were liberated by the Soviet Army in Liepaja on 8th or 9th May 1945. My uncle told me about this day. Prisoners were allowed to move around the camp without restriction, but then, when the Soviet Army was already near Liepaja, there were many more armed guards in the camp. Somebody told my uncle that when the Russians broke through to the town, the Germans were going to kill the inmates of the camp. My uncle knew it was time to escape. He ran to the kitchen where Latvian cooks worked and asked them to shelter him. They were probably afraid of the Germans and the Russians and told him to go away.

My uncle ran into the basement of a wooden hut in the camp quarters. The basement was filled with water, but Hershe was too scared to leave it. He stood in the water as deep as up to his throat a whole night. He got so weak before morning that he was almost fainting. He thought he was going to drown in this basement. He went out of the basement and saw a soldier wearing a camouflage uniform. He asked him, ‘Are you our soldier?’ The soldier replied that he was a Soviet soldier and gave my uncle a cigarette. Hershe was safe.

The Germans didn’t have time to kill the other inmates of the camp and they were also liberated by the Soviet army. My uncle and Zalman Shmakovich, who served in the Latvian division, were the only survivors of their family. Zalman demobilized in 1946 and returned to Riga. Grandmother Haya and her husband Gordon died in the ghetto. My father’s brother Max Greenfeld, his wife Gusta and their daughter Meriam were in the ghetto and then killed in the Rumbula forest.

My mother’s brother Yakov Westerman’s sons Zalman and Nohum left Riga with other Jewish guys. They managed to get to Russia and volunteered to the front. They were wounded, but they survived. Zalman lived in Riga for the rest of his life, and Nohum immigrated to Israel in the 1970s. He has passed away [in the year 2000]. Yakov and his wife died in the Riga ghetto. Other Jewish tenants of our house were also killed. The majority of the Jewish population of Riga was killed by the Germans.

My uncle was the only tenant in his apartment. He wanted us to stay with him. He lived in one room, gave Aunt Liebe and her family one room, and then we stayed in another room, and his friend Iosif Perlman stayed in a little room that was meant for housemaids. Iosif, like my uncle, was taken to the ghetto to work for the Germans. 

We found my father at a home for invalids in the vicinity of Riga. I went to see my dad. When I saw him, taking an effort to walk, I hugged him and started crying. I asked him why he didn’t write us and told him that we were happy that he survived, even if he was badly injured, but he was alive and that was what mattered. I spent two days with my father. The personnel was kind to me. I had meals at the canteen and I was allowed to stay there overnight, before my father and I could go home.

Uncle Hershe got married. He met his second wife Gita after the war. Gita lived in Riga before the war. She was married and had two children. She evacuated with her children, when the war began, and her husband went to the front. In evacuation Gita heard that her husband was dead. She had lost her husband, and my uncle had lost his family during the war. They got married, and Gita and her children moved in with my uncle. She was a nice lady and we became friends with her.

After liberation

We were very poor and even starved at times. My father received a low pension of an invalid and Mama didn’t work. I was the only one to work, but I had no vocation. Since my father was an invalid of war, the chairman of the district social security office helped me to get a job at the invalids’ garment shop [cf. artel] 25, making shirts for men and children. Each employee was responsible for a single operation. I sewed cuffs on sleeves. It wasn’t too hard, but this job required accuracy and attention. It didn’t take me long to learn. This wasn’t the best paid job, but then each kopeck counted. I joined the Komsomol 26 in this shop.

I was eager to study. I had finished six grades of the Jewish school before the war. There were no Jewish schools left after the war. They became Russian schools. My Russian was poor. I learned to speak it during evacuation, but I could hardly write in it. So, instead of going to the seventh grade, I had to go to the fifth grade of a Russian evening school. My sister and brother also went to the fifth grade, and so it happened that we were in the same grade, with the only difference that they went to the daytime school.

I liked school. My favorite subject was mathematics. I was the first to solve any problem in my class. My teacher of mathematics always praised me. History was very difficult. I had problems remembering dates. My sister and brother finished eight grades of the Russian general education school. My brother also went to a music school. He went to the class of brass instruments at the Palace of pioneers. My brother’s music teacher recommended my brother to go to the music school. Boris learned to play the clarinet and the piano. I studied two years and had to quit school after getting married.

Sometime later I quit work in the invalids’ shop and became an apprentice at the garment factory. It didn’t take me long to learn the profession. A very nice lady was the forewoman of the shop. She had no children, and treated me like her daughter. She cooked at home and brought me lunches. The factory provided free lunches to its employees. In fall, employees helped farmers with the harvest. This was a good time. We were young and went to swim in the Daugava River or had dancing parties after work.  

After the war we observed Jewish traditions. However difficult life was, we celebrated all Jewish holidays at home according to the rules. There was no place to buy matzah, so we made it ourselves, and later we accepted orders from others. My uncle and his wife Gita, our family and Iosif Perlman were involved in the process of matzah baking. We made plain matzah or egg matzah. People brought us flour and eggs and then came back to pick their matzah. Mama and Gita made the dough and this was the most difficult part. Someone rolled the dough, someone made little holes with a wheel and another person was responsible for the baking. Each person was responsible for an operation. We had our clients for whom we made matzah for years.

Mama also made special wine for Pesach for our family and for others. This took a lot of effort. My brother always helped her. First he had to beat raisins in a bag that he hit with a stick. Mama had special cloth bags for this purpose. Then these raisins were placed in bottles, and the bottles were left for fermenting. When the wine was ready, it was to be filtered several times through special paper filters. The wine turned out delicious, and our clients were very happy with it. Nowadays special wine for Pesach is sold in stores, and I can assure you that Mama’s wine was no worse.

We started preparations for the holiday in advance. Gita worked and came back home late. Mama and Aunt Liebe spent their days cooking. We were a big family and needed lots of food. They made gefilte fish, forshmak from herring and beetroot kvas drink. There were no sweets in the stores, and Mama and Aunt Liebe made pomerantzn. This required a lot of effort. They cooked ground carrots with sugar, watching it to keep it from burning, added ginger, cinnamon, zest, honey, raisins and eggs. When sugar turns into caramel, the mass is scooped onto a dish and cut finely when it gets dry. It took a lot of time, but it was worth it. I used to make it for my daughters. They also made strudels and puddings. We did our best to make it a holiday.

We also celebrated Victory Day 27 on 9th May. This was the biggest holiday for all of us. If it hadn’t been for the Soviet Army, there would have been no survivors, and we knew it well. On Jewish holidays we went to the synagogue. Of course, the Soviet authorities didn’t appreciate such activities. It was common knowledge that party members weren’t supposed to attend the synagogue. It became known at work and they were sure to have problems. As for common people, this was no problem. Only two of eight synagogues in Riga operated after the war. One of them was also closed sometime later. On holidays there wasn’t an inch of room inside and outside the synagogue. Soviet holidays were just additional days off for us. We celebrated them at work and went to parades. We couldn’t help going, since the management wouldn’t have given us bonuses, and they made up a significant part in our family budget. 

When we returned to Riga, we continued correspondence with Mama’s sister Dora, who was living in Palestine. We sent her cards before holidays or wrote letters. They wrote to us about life in Palestine. My cousins wrote me how they were building this country, bringing soil onto the bare, stony slopes to plant trees on them. They planted eucalyptus trees on swamps, draining them and turning them into fruitful land. They wrote about the attacks of the Arabs and told us about their friends that were killed. It goes without saying that we were very happy, when in 1948 Israel was officially recognized.

Marriage and children

I knew my uncle’s friend Iosif liked me. He was the same age as my father, born in 1901, and I thought he was an old man. However, some time passed and my relatives and Iosif’s relatives started telling me to marry him. Life after the war was very hard, and I knew it would be less difficult, if I had a husband like him. Of course, I was thinking of having a younger husband and having more in common with him, but circumstances forced me to sacrifice my youth and marry Iosif Perlman, who was 25 years older than me.

I didn’t regret it. Iosif was a good husband. He cared about me and helped me with everything. He went shopping with me, didn’t allow me to carry heavy things and stood in lines to buy food. There were always lines in Soviet stores. He was a very kind and caring man.

We got married in 1948. We had a chuppah in my uncle’s apartment and had a traditional Jewish wedding. Mama and my aunt did their best cooking. We only invited our relatives, but there happened to be a lot of them. We celebrated our wedding and then lived together in the little room in my uncle’s apartment.

Iosif was born in the town of Saldus [100 km from Riga], Latvia, in 1901. His father’s name was Leizer Perlman, and his mother’s name was Braine. I don’t know what his father did for a living, but his mother was a housewife. There were seven children in the family. I don’t remember his older brother’s name. He moved to Palestine in the late 1910s. Then there were the daughters, Sofia and Mary, sons Henrich, Benno, Zvi and my future husband, Iosif, the youngest in the family. Their family was a religious Jewish family. The boys studied in cheder till the age of 13, when they had their bar mitzvah. All the children finished a gymnasium.

During the tsarist time Sofia and her father moved to Moscow, Russia. Sofia was going to enter [Lomonosov] Moscow [State] University 28, and her father went with her to support her there. However, they had no opportunity to return to Latvia due to the revolution in Russia, when Latvia became an independent state in 1918. Residents of Soviet Russia weren’t allowed to travel to Latvia or even correspond with their relatives [as it was dangerous to keep in touch with relatives abroad] 29. They stayed in Moscow and didn’t see the rest of their family before 1940, when Latvia was annexed to the Soviet Union. Iosif and his brother Henrich went to visit them there. My husband’s older brother Zvi and his family moved to Africa in the 1930s. Benno and Henrich were married and Mary got married as well. Henrich wife’s maiden name was Yakobson. Their daughter was born in 1933, and in 1936 they had a son.

Iosif was regimented to serve in the Latvian army after finishing the gymnasium. He told me that soldiers lived in barracks, but Jewish soldiers were allowed to go home on Saturday. After the army he entered the Electric Engineering Faculty of Riga University, where he studied radio equipment and telecommunications. In the summer students had practical training at enterprises. Iosif had his training at the Union radio factory in Riga for two years in a row. The factory produced radios and telephone equipment. Iosif finished the university course, but he never defended his diploma. However, he was a good specialist and had a relevant job.

When the war began, Iosif’s family didn’t want to evacuate. Henrich, his older brother, went to the Territorial Army, and from there he joined the Latvian division. The rest of the family ended up in the ghetto: Iosif’s mother, his sister Mary and her family, Henrich’s children, Henrich’s wife and two children and Benno and his family. Iosif’s father, Leizer Perlman, died in Moscow in 1941, shortly before the war began. He was buried in the Vostriakovskoye Jewish cemetery in Moscow. The rest of the family have no graves. There is only a memorial at the place where they were shot.

Iosif was taken to the Salaspils camp, and some time later he was sent to a work camp where he met my uncle Hershe. Iosif did electric engineering work in the camp: he installed telephone lines, electric wires and radio communications. I know little about this period in his life. The memories were too hard, and he didn’t talk much about this period. He told me a little bit, when we went to the memorial opening ceremony at the former Salaspils concentration camp area. When Iosif returned to Saldus from the camp, he heard that his family had been killed. He didn’t want to stay in his empty family house and moved in with my uncle. His older brother Henrich survived at the front and returned home. He heard about the tragic end of his family and went to his sister in Moscow. Henrich died in 1958, and was buried near his father Leizer’s grave in the Vostriakovskoye cemetery. 

Our first daughter was born in 1949. We gave her the name of Bertha, and her Jewish name is Braine after my husband’s mother, who had died in the ghetto. We were still living in this little room of about six square meters. There was no space even for a child’s bed, and our daughter slept on a chair. When my brother was regimented to the army, we put our daughter’s bed in my parents’ room. My maternity leave lasted one or two months. I wanted to nurse my little baby, and I quit my job. I went back to work, when my daughter turned three.

I went to work as a knitter at the Mara knitwear factory. Our shop specialized in gloves. I was to knit fingers on the knitting machine. My sister also went to work there. Our Jewish identity didn’t affect our employment. I’m sure this was an issue for doctors, engineers or key managers, but this fact didn’t matter for workers. However, after the war anti-Semitism was apparent. Even in the streets people could curse or hit a Jewish person, or even call him/her ‘zhyd.’ This wasn’t expressed by the Latvians, but by the Soviet people that had moved to Latvia after the war.

Routinely anti-Semitism was particularly strong shortly before Stalin died, during the period of the Doctors’ Plot 30. It was clear that this campaign was directed against Jews. There were rumors that Jewish people were to be deported to Birobidzhan 31 in Siberia. This might have been the case, if Stalin had not died in March 1953. Many people cried after him, but for the most part they were those who had come from the Soviet Union. Latvian people weren’t so emotional about it. Of course, they didn’t express how they actually felt about this, but in truth, neither my relatives, nor I felt any sorrow. We remembered life in Latvia before its annexation to the USSR, and the comparison was not in favor of the Soviet regime.

In 1954 my second daughter was born. We named her after my grandmother Haya-Genia, and her Russian name was Yevgenia. We called her Zhenia affectionately. I didn’t quit work after she was born. I left breast milk with my mother to feed her. Mama also took the baby for walks. However, some time later I realized I had to look for a new job. We worked in shifts at the factory, and this wasn’t very convenient. I went to work as a seamstress at the garment shop. I was to sew on sleeves. This was a difficult task, but I managed all right.

My husband and I observed Jewish traditions. We spoke Yiddish and Russian at home, and our daughters knew both languages since early childhood. I wanted my daughters to speak their own language. So many Jews, particularly those, who came from the USSR, couldn’t speak their language. I’m very proud of knowing how to read, write and speak Yiddish. Speaking your own language is so much joy!

We celebrated all Jewish holidays at home. Our daughters knew everything about each holiday and what was to be cooked. I understood they might not apply this knowledge in the future, but I thought they had to know things. On Yom Kippur we fasted. Even when I was pregnant and breastfed the babies, I fasted. The Jewish law allows ill people and pregnant women to refrain from fasting, but I wanted to follow the rules.

My sister and brother lived with us. My brother was good at music and wanted to continue his musical education after school, but life was hard, and he had to go to work. However, he played at the amateur orchestra in the evening and practiced playing at night. He was recruited to the army and served on the Soviet/Chinese border where he played in the regiment orchestra. He had one leave during his service. After his service in the army, Boris returned to Riga and went to work. In 1957 he married a Jewish girl from Riga. Her name was Ada. She was born in 1936. They had a traditional Jewish wedding with a chuppah at home. Their older daughter Tsilia was born in 1959, and Tatiana, Taube in the Jewish manner, was born in 1963.

My sister Joheved married Semyon Katz, a Jewish man, in 1955. Their only son Zvi was born in 1961. After a short while she divorced her husband. She worked and raised her son, and we provided her with assistance. When my brother and sister got married, they moved out. My husband, my daughters and I stayed with my parents in our apartment. We all gave money to our parents. This is the way it should be.

My father died in 1956. We buried him at the Jewish cemetery in Riga according to Jewish traditions. After he died, Mama felt worse and worse. We were hoping she would recover, but this was not the case. My husband arranged for her to go to a health center, but she only felt worse there. I took Mama back home. Sometime later her doctor said she needed an operation and had to go to the hospital. I quit my job and spent all the time by her bedside.

After the surgery the surgeon told me that they saw they could do nothing to help my mother, when they cut her open. Mama didn’t know about it. She was sure the surgery was a success and she was going to recover. I spent all nights beside her, watering her lips, when she asked for water. When Mama was released from hospital, she was feeling much better. She used to sit in the park for a long time.

After my father died, Mama received a small pension. She didn’t have to pay for her food eating with us, but she needed pocket money to buy some sweets or even have a new dress made for her. She had known her dressmaker since before the war. My brother and I gave her allowances, so that she could enjoy little things. She died in 1963. We buried her beside our father’s grave. 

In 1957 my aunt Liebe and her family moved to Israel after her husband returned from the Gulag. Emigration to Israel wasn’t allowed in the Soviet Union, but Jews could go there from Poland. Aunt Liebe’s husband Mikhl Monchnik came from Poland. The family was allowed to move to Poland. From there some time later they moved to Israel. Her son Abram was married. His older daughter Tsilia was born in the late 1940s, and his younger son was born in 1950. They all live in Israel. My aunt and her husband have passed away, and my cousin already has great-grandchildren. We corresponded with my aunt and she sent us pictures. At that time we could never believe that they would be able to visit us.

My sister and her son also moved to Israel around the late 1960s. A couple of years later my brother and his family also moved to Israel. It took them some time to settle down there. Joheved was a manicurist, and her son studied. They liked their new life. My brother went to work at the leather goods factory and his wife also found a job. Their daughters received an education and got married. They are doing well. In 2001 Taube, my brother’s younger daughter, died. She left two children, the younger of them was under one year of age.

I was thinking of moving to Israel as well. I knew our daughters would have a good future and prospects there. I was also young enough to start life from scratch. My sister sent us an invitation letter. Only relatives could invite the rest of their family to justify the departure. This was called ‘for the purpose of reunification of families.’ However, my husband couldn’t finally make up his mind. He agreed to what I was telling him, that we were to be all right, but he didn’t dare to make this step. He was afraid that if we were refused the permission for departure, we wouldn’t be able to find a job here. He was also concerned about living in a new country. He was afraid of everything. Perhaps, it was his age, or maybe it was the impact of the ghetto and concentration camps that made him so uncertain. So we delayed and delayed our departure till we stayed in the USSR for good.

My husband was well-respected and valued at work. He was the chairman of the trade unions and he was responsible for distribution of lodgings and tickets to resorts. We shared a little room all together. My husband’s enterprise was building a house for its employees and I asked my husband to apply for an apartment. He replied that there were other people having no place to live whatsoever. Other people were receiving apartments, but we stayed in this little room. The only thing my husband did for us was that he obtained tickets to pioneer camps for our daughters. Nobody could make him ask for something for himself. He would have rather died than asked for benefits for himself. This was what he was like.

I took another job. I went to work as a presser and then a seamstress at the knitwear shop. There was a choir in this shop and I joined it. I liked singing since I was a child, even though I’ve never studied singing. I’ve always sung Jewish and Latvian songs. I’ve preserved this love of singing.

My husband and I did our best to raise our daughters to know they were Jewish. They knew Yiddish, Jewish traditions and religion. They studied in a Russian general education school. My older daughter didn’t want to continue her education after finishing the tenth grade. She went to work. She became an apprentice at the stock factory. She worked there before getting married.

Our daughter married Andris Tzelmale, a Latvian man. My husband was very upset about Bertha’s future marriage. Of course, we wanted her to have a Jewish husband, but this wasn’t the main thing about the marriage. There are good and bad people, and it’s also true about Jewish people. What mattered about my daughter’s choice was that she was happy. I’m happy that my daughter made the right choice. My son-in-law has made a good husband and a caring father, and also, he’s treated my husband and me well. He is always willing to help and support me. I love him dearly. Whatever has happened in my life, I’ve met great people. I am grateful to God for this.

Bertha and Andris have three sons. The oldest, Arvid, was born in 1972, the second, Philip, was born in 1977, and Robert was born in 1985. Our older grandchildren have finished their studies and go to work. The younger one is finishing the gymnasium this year and will decide what he wants to do. Young people have great opportunities. I’ve helped my daughter to raise her children. This is a hard job. I love my grandchildren, and they love me.

Our younger daughter Yevgenia entered the College of Commerce after finishing eight grades of the gymnasium. She studied well, and after finishing her studies she was offered a job in Riga during the job distribution [cf. mandatory job assignment in the USSR] 32. She worked as senior shop assistant and liked her job. She married a Jewish man. She also kept her maiden name, Perlman, after getting married. In 1988 her daughter was born. She gave her the name of Hana after my mother. My granddaughter’s Russian name is Anna.

They lived with us. We spoke Russian with our granddaughter, but when we wanted to talk in confidence, we switched to Yiddish. So it happened that our granddaughter could understand and even speak Yiddish before going to school. We sent her to a Latvian school. My daughter thought that if the girl was going to live in Latvia, she had to know the language and history of the country. When my daughter decided to move to Israel, Anna went to the fourth grade of a Jewish school. Before moving to Israel she had a good command of Hebrew. It was a good start. Now Anna can speak fluent Hebrew. 

Life after the fall of communism

At first I didn’t care about perestroika 33. I wasn’t interested in politics and didn’t believe the promises made by Soviet politicians. Then I saw that many things in our life were changing for the better. There was openness and newspapers wrote about the things that could have been only mentioned in a whisper and to close people before. During the Soviet rule there was a ban on religion. During perestroika the authorities stopped persecuting people for religious rituals. People could go to the synagogue or church without fear. The most joyful event for me was that we were allowed the opportunity to correspond with relatives and friends living abroad and there was no censorship, and we were also allowed to travel to other countries. I always wanted to go to Israel and I always knew that it could never become true. I prayed to God that He give me a chance to see Israel, and maybe my prayers have reached Him. 

I’ve been to Israel twice. It’s a wonderful country. I made my first trip there in 1996. My brother’s wife was to turn 60, and I wanted to be there on this day. When our plane was approaching Tel Aviv and I saw the country through the window, I couldn’t hold back the tears of joy. This was probably the biggest joy in my life. I stayed a month that time. I went on tours all over the country.

I’ve been to all places I read about in the Torah and the Bible. I was in Kesar where I saw the huge amphitheater with stone seats. I was in the Rotshield Park and I was amazed that all the text on signs was written in English, Hebrew and the Braille script for blind people. I was amazed at how they care about blind people and other people with physical handicaps. There are access ramps for paralyzed people moving in wheel chairs. One can tell that the country takes care of its residents, and this was a new and happy thing to know. I was given a tree leaf in the park and I brought it home. It is very dry, but it reminds me about those happy days.

I also visited Israel another time, when my daughter was already living there. I’m sorry I can’t go there again. On 18th January 2006 my granddaughter Anna will turn 18, and I would like to be with her on this day. However, my health condition keeps me from traveling. I follow the events in Israel. Unfortunately, our country is surrounded by enemies, and citizens of the country face danger every day. I always pray to God to give peace to this beautiful country, and to ensure that the people of Israel are wealthy.

Another good thing started during perestroika. The Jewish life began to revive, and this was very important for me. The Latvian Society of Jewish Culture, which was actually a Jewish community, was established. From the first days we knew how we needed it. There is a Jewish choir at the community, and I went there the moment I heard about it. Many people there didn’t know the language or Jewish songs. We had to recall the rhymes and search for them step by step, and we also sang the tunes for the accompanier to pick up the tune, until finally our choir generated a rather sufficient repertoire. We give concerts in the community, tour Latvia and have good receptions everywhere.

I went to Liepaja with the choir. This is the town of my childhood and my father’s home town, and also, my grandfather lived here. Then I went there for the second time. I attended the opening ceremony of the memorial to the Jewish victims. The memorial is grand and beautiful. In the community I found a book with the names of Jewish victims. There are quite a few people with the Greenfeld surname. They must be my father’s relatives. I counted eleven relatives, who died in Liepaja during the Holocaust. I didn’t know them, and their names don’t ring a bell to me, but they were all Greenfeld: Wolf, Mendl, Esther, Lumen, Rosa, Izia and others.

In 1991 the Soviet Union fell apart, and all former Republics, including Latvia, became independent countries [cf. Reestablishment of the Latvian Republic] 34. I have no regrets about the breakup of the USSR. Each country should live as is best for its people. I think that in the Soviet Union we all lived like in a huge shared [communal] apartment 35, where everything happened as Moscow dictated.

Why does Russia complain that Russians are persecuted in Latvia? They came here uninvited, and they forced the Baltic countries to be annexed to the USSR, and now they oppose the requirement that Russians have to study the Latvian language. How can it be otherwise? Can they live in the country without knowing its language? They should have no bad feelings about the fact that each country wants to have its own apartment and life, and it does not appreciate uninvited guests.

However, I don’t agree with the aggressive nationalism directed against anybody, who is different than you are. Once I was in a bus with my neighbor. She moved to Latvia after the war. She had lived in Belarus and was in captivity in Germany during the war. She doesn’t know Latvian and she will probably never learn it, considering her age. We spoke Russian and one passenger commented loudly, ‘You’re in Latvia, and you are supposed to speak Latvian here.’ I replied that we were free to speak any language we chose. He shifted his attention to me and told me rudely to get out to Israel. I replied that I would go when and where I wanted, and that I didn’t need his permission and that his hands were in Jewish blood up to his elbows, if he dared to say this to me. I felt hurt.

I speak good Latvian and I think I am supposed to know the language of the country I live in, but was this of such significance for my father and my relatives, who gave away their lives and health to protect Latvia from fascists? I think this is a sensitive issue and it requires a flexible approach. But what is important is that one shouldn’t judge people and not look for enemies.

In the early 1990s my husband started feeling ill and weak. He couldn’t go out and stayed at home reading the Torah. When I had to go out, I left food for him. I had to care about him, as if he were a child. I bathed and fed him and helped him to put on his clothes. I wouldn’t have managed, if my daughter and son-in-law hadn’t helped me. He died in August 1997, two months before his 96th birthday.

However, there is a record of his story. Shortly before my husband died a journalist from Moscow visited us. She videotaped my husband’s story about his life in the ghetto and concentration camps for the Spielberg Fund [USC Shoah Foundation Institute for Visual History and Education], to have it for future generations. After my husband died we received a videotape of my husband’s interview from America. My older grandson made copies of this video for us.

We buried my husband at the Jewish cemetery in accordance with the Jewish tradition. Our rabbi conducted the ceremony. The men gathered for a minyan requiring at least ten men. We made an engraving on my husband’s gravestone in three languages: Hebrew, Yiddish and Latvian.

I’ve lived alone after my husband died. My older daughter Bertha, her husband and sons often come to see me. My friends visit me. I participate in the Jewish life in Riga, and I find it very interesting. I go to the synagogue every day. It’s become a necessary thing for me. I’ve made quite a few friends in the community. I have friends in the choir, in the gym and those I talk to, when we get together with our rebetzen. I often see her. She is a wonderful lady. She’s arrived here from Israel with her son and husband. We recently celebrated the 10th anniversary of their life in Riga, Latvia. She tells me stories about the history and traditions of the Jewish people. She’s established the ‘Jewish Mom’ society. She invites Jewish people from all over the world. We discuss whatever Jewish news we’ve read in newspapers and share all kinds of news. Thanks to this society I read Jewish newspapers and magazines from France and the USA.

When our rebetzen heard that I could read in Yiddish, she gave me a magazine. I read each and every page of it and found it very interesting. Our rebetzen made arrangements for me to have this press delivered to my home. Once I knew that a Jewish magazine was published in France, I wrote to this magazine in Paris, and they also arranged for me to receive it at home. I enjoy reading these newspapers a lot. They write about the life of Jews all over the world. I’ve read in these newspapers that nowadays many non-Jewish Americans study the Jewish language. It’s the same here. There are non-Jewish students at the Department of Judaic Studies at the Latvian State University. I’m very happy about it. The more people learn the Jewish history and Jewish traditions, the less anti-Semitism will exist. This is what I believe.

I look forward to our choir rehearsals. Each meeting is a holiday for us. Old and ill people sing in the choir, but when they start singing, they look young and happy. One lady in the choir is blind. She is 86, and her daughter takes her to the choir rehearsals. The daughter also sings in the choir. Both have beautiful voices. Both attend all rehearsals. Some of those I started singing with have passed away. Old age and diseases have no mercy. However, we are like one family. We visit and support people, if they fall ill. We also remember the deceased ones. When I visit my husband and parents’ graves, I also bring flowers to put them on the graves of our deceased choir members. Many of them had no relatives left to visit their graves.

The Rahamim social center supports me a lot. They pay my heating bills during the heating season. They also provide medications that are very expensive here. I also have medical insurance for free. The synagogue bought me two trips to the recreation center. I had free treatment and massages there. This is all very important, considering that my pension is not sufficient to cover all expenses. It’s also very important for me to know that I’ve not been abandoned and that there are people remembering and caring about me.

I observe Jewish traditions at home. We celebrate Jewish holidays in the Jewish community, but I also celebrate them at home. I go to the synagogue and then my daughter, her husband and their sons visit me, and we sit at the festive table. I light candles and pray on Friday.

I read a lot about the Holocaust. It’s scary to read about it, but I believe, people should know and remember, or it may be repeated in the future. On 4th July we go to the memorial at the place where fascists burnt the choral synagogue with many Latvian Jews inside. This is the day of mourning and memory. Old people and young people come there. The memory goes from generation to generation.

Glossary:

1 Latvian Society of Jewish Culture (LSJC)

formed in autumn 1988 under the leadership of Esphiк Rapin, a cultural activist, who was the director of the Latvian Philharmonic at the time. Currently LSJC is a non-religious Jewish community of Latvia. The Society’s objectives are as follows: restoration of the Jewish national self-consciousness, culture and traditions. Similar societies have been formed in other Latvian towns. Originally, the objective of the LSJC was the establishment of a Jewish school, which was opened in 1989. Now there is a Kinnor, the children’s choral ensemble, a theatrical studio, a children’s art studio and Hebrew courses in the society. There is a library with a large collection of books. The youth organization Itush Zion, sports organization Maccabi, charity association Rahamim, the Memorial Group, installing monuments in locations of the Jewish Holocaust tragedy, and the association of war veterans and former ghetto prisoners work under the auspices of the Society. There is a museum and documentation center ‘Jews in Latvia’ in the LSJC. The VEK (Herald of Jewish Culture) magazine (the only Jewish magazine in the former Soviet Union), about 50,000 issues, is published by the LSJC.

2 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.

3 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 percent 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.

4 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.

5 Latvian independence

The end of the 19th century was marked by a rise of the national consciousness and the start of national movement in Latvia, that was a part of the Russian Empire. It was particularly strong during the first Russian revolution in 1905-07. After the fall of the Russian monarchy in February 1917 the Latvian representatives conveyed their demand to grant Latvia the status of autonomy to the Russian Duma. During World War I, in late 1918 a significant part of Latvia, including Riga, was taken by the German army. However, Germany, having lost the war, could not leave these lands in its ownership, while the winning countries were not willing to let these countries be annexed to the Soviet Russia. The current international situation gave Latvia a chance to gain its own statehood. From 1917 Latvian nationalists secretly plot against the Germans. When Germany surrenders on 11th November they seize their chance and declare Latvia's independence at the National Theatre on 18th November 1918. Under the Treaty of Riga, Russia promises to respect Latvia's independence for all time. Latvia's independence is recognized by the international community on 26th January 1921, and nine months later Latvia is admitted into the League of Nations. The independence of Latvia was recognized de jure. The Latvian Republic remained independent until its Soviet occupation in 1940.

6 Jewish hospital Bikkur Holim

established by the community with the same name. It existed in Riga since the late 19th century. In 1924 Ulrich Millman and the Joint funded construction of a hospital where they provided assistance to all the needy, not just Jews. The hospital consisted of three departments: therapeutic, surgery and neurology. Director of the hospital was Isaac Joffe, director of Riga’s health department in the early 1920s. Doctor Vladimir Minz, one of the most outstanding surgeons, was head of surgery. He was the first surgeon in Latvia to operate on heart, brain, and do psychosurgery. Fascists destroyed the hospital, its patients and personnel in summer 1941. Doctor Joffe perished in the Riga ghetto in 1941, Professor Minz perished in Buchenwald camp in February 1945.

7 Revisionist Zionism

The movement founded in 1925 and led by Vladimir Jabotinsky advocated the revision of the principles of Political Zionism developed by Theodor Herzl, the father of Zionism. The main goals of the Revisionists was to put pressure on Great Britain for a Jewish statehood on both banks of the Jordan River, a Jewish majority in Palestine, the reestablishment of the Jewish regiments, and military training for the youth. The Revisionist Zionists formed the core of what became the Herut (Freedom) Party after the Israeli independence. This party subsequently became the central component of the Likud Party, the largest right-wing Israeli party since the 1970s.

8 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.

9 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.

10 Hashomer Hatzair

‘The Young Watchman'; A Zionist-socialist pioneering movement founded in Eastern Europe, Hashomer Hatzair trained youth for kibbutz life and set up kibbutzim in Palestine. During World War II, members were sent to Nazi-occupied areas and became leaders in Jewish resistance groups. After the war, Hashomer Hatzair was active in ‘illegal' immigration to Palestine.

11 Annexation of Latvia to the USSR

upon execution of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact on 2nd October 1939 the USSR demanded that Latvia transferred military harbors, air fields and other military infrastructure to the needs of the Red Army within 3 days. Also, the Soviet leadership assured Latvia that it was no interference with the country’s internal affairs but that they were just taking preventive measures to ensure that thi9s territory was not used against the USSR. On 5th October the Treaty on Mutual Assistance was signed between Latvia and the USSR. The military contingent exceeding by size and power the Latvian National army entered Latvia. On 16th June 1940 the USSR declared another ultimatum to Latvia. The main requirement was retirement of the ‘government hostile to the Soviet Union’ and formation of the new government under supervision of representatives of the USSR. President K. Ulmanis accepted all items of the ultimatum and addressed the nation to stay calm. On 17th June 1940 new divisions of the Soviet military entered Latvia with no resistance. On 21st June 1940 the new government, friendly to the USSR, was formed mostly from the communists released from prisons. On 14-15th July elections took place in Latvia. Its results were largely manipulated by the new country's leadership and communists won. On 5th August 1940 the newly elected Supreme Soviet addressed the Supreme Soviet of the USSR requesting to annex Latvia to the USSR, which was done.

12 Ulmanis Karlis (1877 – 1942), a prominent Latvian politician, born to the family of a land owner

Ulmanis studied agriculture at the ETH Zurich, Switzerland and at Leipzig University, Germany and then worked in Latvia as a writer, lecturer, and manager in agricultural positons. Ulmanis was one of the principal founders of the Latvian People's Council (Tautas Padome), which proclaimed Latvia's independence from Russia on November 18, 1918. A constitutional convention established Latvia as a parliamentary democracy in 1920. Ulmanis was the first Prime Minister of a Latvia which had become independent for the first time in 700 years. He also served as Prime Minister in several subsequent Latvian government administrations during the period of Latvian independence from 1918 to 1940. He also founded the Latvian Agrarian (Farmer's) Union. On May 15, 1934, Ulmanis as Prime Minister dissolved the Latvian Parliament Saeima and established executive non-parliamentary authoritarian rule In 1936 Ulmanis unconstitutionally merged the office of President and Prime Minister in his own person. Although the U.S. State Department had information at that time that the Soviet Union had agreed to exile Ulmanis to Switzerland, he was in fact arrested by the Soviets and deported to points unknown. His fate was only learned in the post-Gorbachev era. Ulmanis is now known to have died in a prison in Krasnovodsk in the present Turkmenistan during World War II.

13 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.

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 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.

16 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.

17 Soviet Army

The armed forces of the Soviet Union, originally called Red Army and renamed Soviet Army in February 1946. After the Bolsheviks came to power, in November 1917, they commenced to organize the squads of worker’s army, called Red Guards, where workers and peasants were recruited on voluntary bases. The commanders were either selected from among the former tsarist officers and soldiers or appointed directly by the Military and Revolutionary Committy of the Communist Party. In early 1918 the Bolshevik government issued a decree on the establishment of the Workers‘ and Peasants‘ Red Army and mandatory drafting was introduced for men between 18 and 40. In 1918 the total number of draftees was 100 thousand officers and 1.2 million soldiers. Military schools and academies training the officers were restored. In 1925 the law on compulsory military service was adopted and annual drafting was established. The term of service was established as follows: for the Red Guards- two years, for junior officers of aviation and fleet- three years, for medium and senior officers- 25 years. People of exploiter classes (former noblemen, merchants, officers of the tsarist army, priest, factory owner, etc. and their children) as well as kulaks (rich peasants) and cossacks were not drafted in the army. The law as of 1939 cancelled restriction on drafting of men belonging to certain classes, students were not drafted but went through military training in their educational institutions. On the 22nd June 1941 Great Patriotic War was unleashed and the drafting in the army became exclusively compulsory. First, in June-July 1941 general and complete mobilization of men was carried out as well as partial mobilization of women. Then annual drafting of men, who turned 18, was commenced. When WWII was over, the Red Army amounted to over 11 million people and the demobilization process commenced. By the beginning of 1948 the Soviet Army had been downsized to 2 million 874 thousand people. The youth of drafting age were sent to the restoration works in mines, heavy industrial enterprises, and construction sites. In 1949 a new law on general military duty was adopted, according to which service term in ground troops and aviation was three years and in navy- four years. Young people with secondary education, both civilian and military, with the age range of 17-23 were admitted in military schools for officers. In 1968 the term of the army service was contracted to two years in ground troops and in the navy to three years. That system of army recruitment has remained without considerable changes until the breakup of the Soviet Army (1991-93).

18 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.

19 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.

20 Latvian division

Latvian rifle division 201 was formed in August/September 1941. The formation started in the Gorohovetski camps in the vicinity of Gorky (present Nizhniy NOvgorod), where most of evacuated Latvians were located. On 12 September 1941 the division soldiers took an oath. By early December 1941 the division consisted of 10,348 people, about 30% of them were Jews. 90% of the division commanders and officers were Latvian citizens. In early December 1941 units of the Latvian division were taken to the front. From 20 December 1941 till 14 January 1942, during the Soviet counterattack near Moscow the division took part in severe battles near Naro-Fominsk and Borovsk. The casualties constituted 55% of the staff, including 58% privates, 30% junior commanding officers. Total casualties constituted about 5700 people, including about 1060 Jews.
21 Labor army: it was made up of men of call-up age not trusted to carry firearms by the Soviet authorities. Such people were those living on the territories annexed by the USSR in 1940 (Eastern Poland, the Baltic States, parts of Karelia, Bessarabia and northern Bukovina) as well as ethnic Germans living in the Soviet Union proper. The labor army was employed for carrying out tough work, in the woods or in mines. During the first winter of the war, 30 percent of those drafted into the labor army died of starvation and hard work. The number of people in the labor army decreased sharply when the larger part of its contingent was transferred to the national Estonian, Latvian, and Lithuanian Corps, created at the beginning of 1942. The remaining labor detachments were maintained up until the end of the war.

22 Riga ghetto

established on 23 August 1941. Located in the suburb of Riga populated by poor Jews. About 13 000 people resided here before the occupation, and about 30 000 inmates were kept in the ghetto. On 31 November and 8 December 1941 most inmates were killed in the Rumbuli forest. On 31 October 15 000 inmates were shot, 8 December 10 000 inmates were killed. Only younger men were kept alive to do hard work. After the bigger part of the ghetto population was exterminated, a smaller ghetto was established in December 1941. The majority of inmates of this ‘smaller ghetto’ were Jews, brought from the Reich and Western Europe. On 2 November 1943 the ghetto was closed. The survivors were taken to nearby concentration camps. In 1944 the remaining Jews were taken to Germany, where few of them survived through the end of the war.

23 Rumbula forest

the location where Latvian Jews, inmates of the Riga ghetto and Soviet prisoners-of-war were shot is in the woods near the Rumbula railway station. At the time this was the 12th kilometer of the highway from Riga to Daugavpils. The drawings of common graves were developed. There was a ramp made by each grave for prisoners to step into the grave. Soviet prisoners-of-war were forced to dig the graves to be also killed after performing their task. The total number of those killed in Rumbula is unknown. The most accurate might be the numbers given in the report of the police commander of Latvia, who personally commanded the actions in Rumbula. He indicated 27 800 victims in Rumbula, including 942 from the first transport of foreign Jews from Berlin, executed in Rumbula on the dawn of 30 November 1941, before execution of the Riga ghetto inmates. To hide the traces of their crimes, special units of SS Sonderkommanden 1005 opened the graves and burned the remains of victims in spring and summer 1944. They also crashed burnt bones with bone crashing machines. This work was done by Soviet prisoners-of-war and Jews, who were also to be executed. In the 1960s local activists, despite counteraction of authorities, made arrangements at the site of the Rumbula burial. They installed a memorial gravestone with the words ‘To the victims of fascism’ were engraved in Latvian, Russian and Yiddish.

24 Salaspils

The biggest concentration camp in Latvia, located on the railway line near Riga. All together over 53,000 people from various countries were killed there. The killed were placed in pits in several layers, occupying about 2,600 square meters. Inmates were also used as workers at the peat bog, lime factory and others. Today, there is a memorial and the museum ‘Road of Ordeal’ on the spot of the former concentration camp.
( http://www.logon.org/_domain/holocaustrevealed.org/Latvia/Latvian_Holocaust.htm )

25 Artel

a cooperative union of tradesmen or producers involving shares of overall profit and common liability.

26 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.

27 Victory Day in Russia (9th May)

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

28 Lomonosov Moscow State University, founded in 1755, the university was for a long time the only learning institution in Russia open to general public

In the Soviet time, it was the biggest and perhaps the most prestigious university in the country. At present there are over 40,000 undergraduates and 7,000 graduate students at MSU.

29 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.

30 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.

31 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.

32 Mandatory job assignment in the USSR

Graduates of higher educational institutions had to complete a mandatory two-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.

33 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

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

34 Reestablishment of the Latvian Republic

On 4th May 1990 Supreme Soviet of the Latvian Soviet Republic has accepted the declaration in which it was informed of the demand to restore independence of Latvia, and the transition period to restoration of full independence has been declared. The Soviet leadership in Moscow refused to acknowledge the independence of Lithuania and initiated an economic blockade on the country. At the referendum held on 3rd March 1991, over 90 percent of the participants voted for independence. On 21st August 1991 the parliament took a decision on complete restoration of the prewar statehood of Latvia. The western world finally recognized Latvian independence and so did the USSR on 24th August 1991. In September 1991 Latvia joined the United Nations. Through the years of independence Latvia has implemented deep economic reforms, introduced its own currency (Lat) in 1993, completed privatization and restituted the property to its former owners. Economic growth constitutes 5-7% per year. Also, it’s taken the course of escaping the influence of Russia and integration into European structures. In February 1993 Latvia introduced the visa procedure with Russia, and in 1995 the last units of the Russian army left the country. Since 2004 Latvia has been a member of NATO and the European Union.

35 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.
 

Anna Dremlug

Anna Dremlug
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Nika Parhomovskaya
Date of interview: November 2003

Anna Matveevna Dremlug is a small, thin and young-looking woman, who, despite of her eighty years of age, keeps on being active and optimistic.

She lives in a three-room apartment in one of the new city districts together with her husband and a dog called Mika.

She can’t see well and wears very strong glasses; still she currently takes care of the house. That’s why the apartment looks clean and cozy.

Guests, knowing the way she cooks (I must say that it was the most delicious home-made food), come here both on holidays and on weekdays too...

Аnna Мateveevna tells me about her relatives with great pleasure, she is ready to share any information, that she knows about her oldest ancestors, and she gives me ancient photographs without any hesitation.

  • My family

I know very little about my maternal grandparents. I can say only that, possibly, my maternal grandfather and grandmother lived on the territory of the Jewish Pale of Settlement 1 and my mother Ghindah Zusevna Alperovich, nee Bogorad, or Zinaida Zakharovna, as it was written in her passport 2, was born in Gorodok [small town in Belarus, 50 kilometers north of Vitebsk]. That was quite a remote, out-of-the-way place; however, many Jews lived there. Then her family moved to Staraya Russa [Novgorod province, 300 kilometers south of St. Petersburg].

My mother’s father Zusya Bogorad or Zakhar, as it was written in his passport, was a craftsman, and he owned a small lemonade and soda factory. Staraya Russa was a spa place, so they sold their soda and lemonade in the recreation parts of the town. My mother’s parents had fourteen children: Anna, whose Jewish name was Chaya, Bronya, Lev, Solomon [Samuel], Tatiana, Elisabeth, Zinaida, Maria, Bertha, Ida, Semen and three more children, who died in childhood. All of them, when they grew up a little, worked at the factory: girls washed dishes and guys helped Granddad.

They had their own wooden house with a mezzanine. The house wasn’t preserved, I guess. And there was a shed near the house, where the factory was situated: two big cans with kvass [soft drink made of bread] and soda, storages of cranberries in tubs and two baths to wash the bottles.

I don’t know where my grandfather was from, or where he met my grandmother, Zlata Iztkovna Bedereva. I know very badly the history of my maternal grandfather. He died, when I was only two years old, in 1925. And his date of birth is unknown. My mother told me that his wife Zlata ruled the place and business, and he, probably, closed his eyes on quite many things, and obeyed her. They spoke mainly Yiddish in the family, but they knew Russian too.

I spent much time communicating with my maternal grandmother, and she loved me very much. She was a very strict woman, though. Mother told me that she managed their factory on her own, and guys, when they went to sell the lemonade, tried to overcharge her. And she watched very carefully, how many bottles she sent, and if she noticed that something was wrong, the guys were punished.

Granny tried to give an education and a vocation to all of her children: Aunt Maria was a dressmaker, Aunt Bertha made hats, she was a milliner, and my mother learned how to knit on a special stocking machine.

Grandmother often came to see us in Bologoye [300 kilometers south of St. Petersburg]; she also liked to take me to her place in Volochek [Vyshniy Volochek, small town 350 kilometers north of Moscow]. Grandmother died on Praygka River in Leningrad, in 1948, when she was 86. She had a strong sclerosis. They buried her in the Jewish cemetery [the only Jewish cemetery in Leningrad is the Preobrazhenskoe cemetery].

My dad’s father, David Abramovitch Alperovich, was born in 1856. I don’t have any information about his brothers and sisters. It seems, he had a brother called Michael, who stayed to live on the territory of Poland after the [October] Revolution 3. After World War II his son Jacob together with his children came to see us in Bologoye.

My father’s mom, who died very early of some heart disease, was called Anna or Chaya; they named me after her, in her honor. Then Grandfather married for the second time. The second grandmother, named Itka Semenovna, was of the same age as Grandfather’s elder son, she was something like thirty years younger than Granddad, but the children liked her very much.

Grandfather was a peasant, a serednyak [a representative of the middle class, as ‘seredina’ means ‘middle’ in Russian], he lived in the village of Lipsk, Begoml district, which was situated in Borisov uezd [in Russia they divided regions into small parts, called ‘uezds.’ Begoml town, 150 kilometers north of Minsk, is a part of the Vitebsk region in Belarus today.] Grandfather had eleven children. In 1905 his elder children from the first wife left for America [after the Revolution of 1905 4 many Jews emigrated from Russia to the USA or Palestine]. Grandfather had an only daughter Maria – at home they called her Mura – from his second wife.

The family lived in an ordinary peasant house, divided into two parts: the summer part and the winter one. The summer one was cold, and there was only one room in it. At the same time, there was a Russian stove 5 in the winter rooms. Grandfather’s bed, closed off with a pink curtain, stood beyond the stove. There was no electricity, and the well was in the yard. Everything they grew, they ate, and nothing was sold. There was no garden in the usual sense, only the kitchen garden, and the only animals they had were a cow and a horse. After the Soviet power was established, my grandfather was among the first peasants to join the kolkhoz 6. He didn’t go to the army.

The Alperovichs always were friends of Belarusians. Mother told me that when I was born, Belarusian peasants came to congratulate her and brought some self-made fabric for nappies.

Grandfather wore tallit. And he had tefillin too. No doubt, that he and Grandmother Itka followed Jewish traditions. I remember, the way I helped them to bake matzah when I was a schoolgirl. But when we went into evacuation we found out that he wasn’t such an Orthodox Jew. While we were travelling in heated goods van, Mother made us sandwiches with lard and onions.

Grandfather asked us, ‘Children, what tasty things do you eat?’ We replied, ‘Grandfather, this is bread with lard.’ – ‘Ah, it smells very nice.’ – ‘Grandfather, just try it.’ He hesitated and then said, ‘We [the Jews] can’t eat pork.’ – ‘Don’t worry, Grandfather.’ And finally we gave him some sandwiches. Later, when we came to Chuvashia [an autonomous republic in the central Volga region] he bought two small pigs and began to eat pork heartily.

Grandfather and Grandmother Itka moved to Bologoye just after Aunt Zhenya married our neighbor Naum Abramovich Dik, a dentist. It happened in the early 1930s, because they didn’t want to stay in Begoml, for they were old and didn’t have enough forces to keep the house. After all, all their children left Lipsk and they wanted to live near their children and grandchildren.

During the evacuation they went to Chuvashia, to Tarkhany [small village in the south of Chuvashia]. First, we lived there all together: my grandparents, my mother and my sisters, my aunt and her daughter, my cousin. Then they stayed in Tarkhany together with Aunt Zhenya, and we left for another village after I got a job in a kolkhoz. We all came back home in 1943.

I, just like my father, was born in Lipsk, not far from Begoml in Borisov uezd, which is now in Belarus. Then my mother went back to Staraya Russa, and in the mid-1920s we moved to Valdasi [small town in Novgorod district, 300 kilometers west of St. Petersburg]. I don’t remember anything about our life in Valdasi. The only thing I remember is: when Sophia, my middle sister, who is three years younger than I am, was born, we went to the hospital.

I remember the black hat of Aunt Bertha and that it was raining. Bertha, my mother’s sister, lived in Valdasi together with her husband, a Communist. She was a housewife then, I think.

In 1930 we moved to Bologoye. We lived there in an ordinary wooden house with two floors. The owner, Naum Abramovich, lived on the second floor, and we rented one of the apartments on the first floor. We lived in that house till the Great Patriotic War 7 began. And even later, in 1948, after Dad came back from the front, my parents bought a quarter of that building.

There was a small garden in front of the house. In general Bologoye was a green town, with its nice park and public garden.

We had neither a synagogue, nor a rabbi. We didn’t even have a shochet. When Grandfather came over from Belarus he ate only kosher food, and it was necessary to kosher the chicken, so my mother especially went to the local shochet in Vyshniy Volochek to do so. And later she said she would go to Volochek, but Father koshered the chicken himself – in principle, he knew what to do.

There still were some Jews in Bologoye, but not a lot. My friend Rebecca Alpert was a Jew; her father was a dressmaker. The school headmaster Mark Evseitch and his sisters, the Parmit family – their grandfather was a metalworker, I think – and Raya, the hairdresser, lived not far from us. After World War II the family of my father’s cousin arrived too: he, his son and two daughters.

And our milliner was a Jew – from the Kalach family, if I’m not mistaken. There was also the Finkelshtein family; I studied together with Bertha Finkelshtein at school. Well, there weren’t many Jews in our town in total, maybe, about one hundred people. And the town was a small one. All Jews knew each other and communicated with one another, since they all lived nearby.

Everyone had his own business: for example, Aunt Maria Alperovich, my father’s cousin Jacob’s wife, was a bookkeeper; she worked in ‘Kalinintorg’ [the regional selling union], Uncle Jacob himself was employed at the meat processing and packing factory, and Mark Evseitch was the school headmaster. There were Jewish office workers, someone worked as pharmaceutical chemist in the drugstore, and another one was a seller. 

My father Matvey Davidovich Alperovich was born in 1898. Among those children, who stayed – those, who didn’t leave for America – Father was the oldest one, his sisters Zhenya, Rachel, Ghitah and step-sister Maria were younger than him. He didn’t communicate a lot with his American relatives, but even after the October Revolution Father’s sister Zhenya wrote to them 8. I don’t know anything about their lives over there: neither what they were, nor where exactly they lived. However, I recall that we received their parcels: they sent us food and some fabrics.

We also received letters in Yiddish, and Father read them together with Aunt Zhenya – they both knew Yiddish and could write it. Of course, Yiddish was their mother tongue, but at home Father spoke both languages: Russian as well as Yiddish. He wasn’t a religious person, not at all. I can’t recall that he would observe Sabbath or pray. Perhaps, he had some Jewish education, but he never told me if he studied in cheder, or in a regular elementary school. I can’t even say what kind of education he got; maybe, they had no schools in Begoml district? 

Father’ sisters wrote to those brothers and sisters, who left for America, mainly to Sarah and Olga. Today Olga’s children live in Canada. When Larissa, Ghitah’s daughter immigrated to Canada, she visited them. One of Olga’s children happened to be an architect: he has his own office, and they aren’t poor. Another one of my father’s sisters, Rachel, left for Canada in 1926. My aunt lived in Toronto, Canada, and had her own dry cleaner.

In Soviet times she came to Leningrad [today St. Petersburg, called St. Petersburg before WWI and Petrograd during WWI] twice – in the 1950s and 1970s – with a tourist voucher. Aunt Zhenya even got permission to live with her sister in ‘Pribaltiiskaya’ Hotel, and they, of course, didn’t go around much, they mostly talked. When she came for the second time, she stayed in ‘Astoria’ [one of the oldest and most expensive hotels in Leningrad]. Then she went to Moscow, where she stayed at the ‘Ukraine’ Hotel.

My mother lived in Moscow at the time, and we went to visit Rachel. I saw her only there, for when she went to Leningrad, I didn’t go to the meeting: I was scared, my husband worked in the Navy College, he was connected with sailing abroad, we spoke and decided that it doesn’t make any sense to risk so much.

My mother was born in Gorodok in 1900. I don’t know, when her family moved to Staraya Russa, but, it seems to me, that happened around 1913; mother told me a story about some London aunt, who wanted to take them to her, but then Jews were allowed to live on Russian territories in honor of the Romanov dynasty’s 300th anniversary [in 1913 in Russia they celebrated the 300th anniversary of Romanovs’ rule], and they decided to stay.

I guess, they believed in some better future as the authorities allowed them to live in Russia, not far from the capital and to run their business. Probably, they just didn’t want to emigrate and leave their Motherland and hoped that everything would be all right for them in Russia.

At school my mother was a friend of some Russian girls. And apparently her name ‘Ghindah’ wasn’t in use, everyone called her Zina [short for Zinaida], and so it happened to be the same in the future. Her brothers and sisters were close friends, they all played and studied together, and Tatiana, one of the elder children, ruled this small group. The two of them slept in one common bed.

Here I should tell you more about them. Anna was one of the oldest siblings. She was born in the early 1890s, but I don’t remember what she did for a living. I know exactly that she lived in Toropets [small town in Kalinin district] and had four children: two sons and two daughters. One of her sons became an assistant to the public prosecutor.

One of the brothers, Lev, was born in the early 1890s too. He was the only one, who followed in his father’s footsteps, for he worked in the lemonade and soda industry. He was employed at a factory in Leningrad district, and from Staraya Russa he moved to Pavlovsk [town near Leningrad, summer residence of Russian tsars]. He had three sons, I remember that Samuel worked with medical equipment and Isaac was a colonel, head of department in the Academy of Transport Troops.

Bronya, another elder sister of my mother, was a dressmaker, she lived in Bologoye too. Tatiana was born in 1897, Mother said that she was ‘literate’; she worked in a shop, then in some personnel department. She was married to Abram and had two children: Zusia was killed during World War II, and her daughter Emma became a doctor. Finally she moved to Kolpino [town near Leningrad] and died there in the 1970s.

Semen, the youngest brother, was born in 1904 and died in 1965; he managed a store, worked as a shop assistant, and lived in Vyshniy Volochek and Leningrad. He had a nice wife, Esphir, and two daughters. As I guess, he was Grandmother’s favorite and she lived at his place often.

I also remember that Maria, the next sister, was born in 1901, and she was a dressmaker too. First she lived in Toryok [small town 250 kilometers north of Moscow], then evacuated to Chuvashia, and finally, after the Great Patriotic War, found herself in Kiev. She had two daughters: Elizabeth, who graduated from the Pedagogical University, and Eugenia, who immigrated to Germany and now lives there.

I know very little about my mother’s other two siblings: Elizabeth, who was born in 1899 and died in 1927, and Samuel, who died in the early 1920s from typhus. Elizabeth died, when I was a little girl. I don’t know why, but I remember her very well in her blue dress with white dots. And as for Samuel, he died even before my birth.

Aunt Ida was born in 1903 and died in 1986; she was a bookkeeper. From Staraya Russa she moved to Okulovka [small town in Novgorod district, about 400 kilometers from Moscow]. Her husband, Uncle Boris, was a nepman [small owner, businessman, called after the NEP 9], later he was arrested, but they didn’t shoot him. Sometimes we went to visit them, even then [in the 1930s] they had a housekeeper, they were much richer than we were, and sold some manufactured goods. Later they moved to Leningrad. Ida and Boris had a son, who left for Germany. I never liked him and them either.

Mother’s sister Bertha was born in 1902 and died in 1988. She worked as a sales assistant and at a factory, lived in Valdasi and Leningrad. Bertha was married to David Ilkovsky, who was one of the first Komsomol 10 members. In the 1920s he was an active member of the Communist Party, but later they arrested him too. And they were opposites: nepmen Ida and Boris and Komsomol guys Bertha and David.

They argued till their death, which one was right. However, my father was more of a friend of Uncle David, and we communicated a lot with them both. They had a wonderful daughter called Nelya; I was great friends with her.

Mother never told me stories about her brothers and sisters, but I saw them often and communicated a lot with most of them. My parents had friendly relations with many of their brothers and sisters. Mother communicated with Tatiana, who, just like us, during World War II was evacuated to Chuvashia, more than with others.

My parents got to know each other during the Civil War 11. My father was in the army; he served in a sanitary company. Their sanitary train went to Staraya Russa; Father went for a walk, found a place, where they sold kvass, and went inside the house. Mother washed the floors; she interrupted her work, washed her hands and gave him some kvass. So they met, and began to talk.

Then, together with his unit, he left, but they continued to write to each other. And, after he was demobilized from army, Mother went to Belarus, to that village called Lipsk. There they registered their relations in 1922, but the large Jewish wedding happened in Staraya Russa later, some time in 1923, even after my birth. Probably, they didn’t organize the wedding in Belarus, because they didn’t have the money to afford it. And my maternal grandparents were richer than the paternal ones, and maybe Mother asked her parents to help her with a big celebration.

The point is that after my birth my mother decided to go back home to Staraya Russa to stay with her parents: she was bored in Lipsk because she came from a town, wore town clothes and, apparently, was a coquette, and Lipsk happened to be a small peasant village, where nothing was going on. Then Father came to Staraya Russa too. I suppose, it could have been in late 1923 or around that time.

A couple of years later, in 1926, they moved to Valdasi, where Mother’s sister Bertha lived together with her husband. There Father got a job as a regular employee in Prom cooperation [so-called Industrial cooperation, state unit of stores and small businesses]. We left Valdasi, when I was six, and my sister Sophia was around three, that is, in 1930. Then we settled in Bologoye, where we rented an apartment from a dentist: two rooms and a kitchen.

There was electricity and a radio in the house, but we had to bring the water from outside. The kitchen was very cold, and there was a great demand for firewood to warm it up. 

Father was the director of ‘Koghsyrie’ – a small organization, part of Prom cooperation, where peasants from neighborhood villages brought animal skins. A man responsible for raw materials worked there too, together with my father, who, as a matter of fact, only admitted the skins. The job was very poorly paid, we lived very modestly. We had neighbors, who worked at the railway and got better rations [food help for state employees 12] than my father. We mainly bought food and stuff at the market, then we got a goat, a pig, chicken, and, for some period of time, even a cow, so we managed somehow.

Mother was unemployed: children on her hands, and no place to work. She hated her profession as a knitter, sewed only stocks and scarves from time to time, but, apparently, she didn’t like to sew at all. I recall that once Mother came and said, ‘They sell cream crepe de Chine. I want to buy it for a blouse.’ And then Sophia and I took out our savings and went to Aunt Zhenya to get some money too, and finally bought this fabric for Mom.

Father wasn’t a Komsomol member, however in 1938 he joined the Communist Party – maybe, not on his own initiative, I think, they made him join. At that time Stalin’s terror 13 had begun already, and it was less dangerous if you were a Communist, especially for Jews.

Once in their life my parents went on vacation with a voucher – Father got this voucher as a civil servant: before World War II, when they just built the Belomorsko-Baltiyskiy Channel [connecting the White Sea with Lake Onega, was built in the 1930s, political prisoners actively participated in its creation]. And we stayed at home – we never spent holidays all together, never ever in our lives, we just didn’t have such an opportunity.

Then Father went to a recreation center in Eysk [small town in Krasnodar district] at the Azov Sea coast before World War II. He also went to Moscow, when the VDNH [Exhibition of People’s Economic Achievements] was just opened. And mainly they spent time in Bologoye, there was a lake, and we went for walks to Putyatin garden, and organized dances in the evenings.

There were some books at our home, but not very many. We only had a small bookshelf with books. I think those were the usual books: Soviet fiction, Russian classics, and no religious books for sure. Father mainly read the newspaper, but I don’t remember which one, maybe, the local one, as in Bologoye, certainly, there was a local newspaper.

Father read more, Mom less – she started to read later, when she was free of children. Then she began to read avidly, borrowed books from neighbors, and later, when she moved to us – after the death of her second husband in the 1970s, she moved to Leningrad and lived with me and my husband – she read the ‘Leningrad Pravda’ [meaning Truth in Russian; main city newspaper, the official press issue of the local Communist Party], and ‘Izvestia’ [News; all-Russian newspaper, established in the 1920s].

Anyway, she developed a passion for reading. But back in Bologoye we had a neighbor who loved to read so much, that my mother even reproached her for it: ‘The dinner isn’t readу, the children haven’t eaten yet, but she sits there and reads!’

My mother was a very friendly and convivial person. And so was Daddy. They both had nice voices, they both sang songs. On Soviet holidays, such as 1st May, for example, when everyone gathered, Father sang both Jewish and Ukrainian songs.

It is hard to say what kind of relations they had. Mother thought that Father was unfaithful to her. I don’t know if she was right or not, but sometimes she was jealous for no reason. I recall such an incident: in Bologoye some Jewish family lived not far from us, and the wife, apparently, liked my dad and invited him to some birthday party. Father bought a box of sweets and hid it somewhere in the house, but Mom found the box, and there was a big scandal.

As a matter of fact, I liked my father very much, maybe, even more than my mother. Sometimes, in my childhood I was more on his side, it seemed to me that Mother wasn’t right about him. Probably, I should have understood her too: she didn’t have any interests: she didn’t work and had to talk to people, who, possibly, were much less interesting, than she wanted them to be.

Our neighbors in Bologoye were mainly Russians; there weren’t a lot of Jews in town. My parents had friendly relations both with our neighbors and relatives. On holidays we met with the family of my father’s cousin, his sister, grandfather and grandmother. He didn’t communicate much with his work colleagues. Mother had very good relations with my paternal grandparents. They never lived together, but they were our frequent guests. If Dad didn’t go to Grandfather, Mother always said, ‘Motya – short for Matvey, Dad’s name at home – you should go and see your father.’ She baked cakes for them, and sent them presents from time to time.

Father suddenly died in 1956 from some form of cancer. I lived in Leningrad and was a doctor, so my mother called me and said that he was sick. I asked them to come. So they came at the very beginning of 1956, the first days of January. I took him to Mechnikov hospital, one of the best in Leningrad, but the doctors couldn’t understand what was going on. They said that he had cancer only after his death. So we buried him at the Jewish cemetery, the same one where my Granny was buried, and most of her children later on.

After Father’s death Mother stayed to live in Bologoye until my younger sister Lilia graduated from school and went to Leningrad to study. Later someone introduced her to Lev Moiseevich Tylkin, the brother of Aunt Ida’s second husband [mother’ sister, who married for the second time, after her husband died]. He lived in Moscow and was a widower. Mother sold her apartment in Bologoye, moved to Moscow and together with her new husband built a one-room ‘cooperative’ there [in the USSR apartments weren’t private, the state decided itself where citizens should live].

My mother had a very interesting life in those years, she liked this person and his friends, they had nice neighbors, who were much more interesting and intellectual people than the ones she had to communicate with in her previous life. They read many books, played cards and came to visit their numerous pals and neighbors. However, Lev Moiseevich died sometime around 1976, and it was necessary to decide where Mom would live. We wanted her to go to my younger sister in Vladimir [regional center, 200 kilometers from Moscow], but Mother wanted to move only to Leningrad. As a result, she exchanged her Moscow apartment and moved to us.

  • Childhood and young years

In my childhood, when I went to Staraya Russa to see my grandmother Zlata, she made me pray before breakfast, and I refused:

– Granny, I’m not an old woman, I won’t pray.
– So, I won’t give you cacao.
– I don’t need any…

I was a very little girl, I was five. And my grandmother prayed.

I also remember that once they sent me to Grandmother after I got typhus. My parents lived very poorly, and at my grandmother’s in Vyshniy Volochek life was a bit easier. So we went for a walk and I noticed a doll with no head lying in a ditch. We took the body, washed it, bought a head and made a real doll – my first real big doll ever!

I don’t remember Volochek itself because I was very little, I was only six, but I remember that Granny liked me more than all her other grandchildren. When she came to visit, she always asked Mother to let me go with her. She liked tasty things herself, that’s why she always put some sweets or chocolates under my pillow. I slept in her room, and they had three rooms, and a hall, and a kitchen.

There was a garden and a small courtyard. The building was in the center of the town. It was a two-storied wooden house, and Semen rented the second floor. He lived there together with his wife Esphir and his mother, my Granny. I liked to go there because I liked Grandmother and also because they lived much better than my own parents.

I never went to a kindergarten; my mother raised me and my sister herself. Later, when already a schoolgirl, I often went to pioneer camps 14. I started school, when I was eight. I studied at the school #11 15, which was called ‘eleventh railway.’ There were only three schools in town: ours, twelfth railway and the ordinary one. Our school was the state one, but the railway union supported it.

For example, we traveled to Leningrad on holidays and vacations. Our school was a very good one, I think; it was the best one in town. We had good teachers – the only one I could complain about was our literature teacher, who was very young, had just graduated from the Institute – and we got a good education.

Our school was located in a wooden building, actually two buildings, connected with a corridor. It was situated in the very center of the town, on one of the main streets. We had a special hall for sport activities, the school provided all kinds of faculties. During the Technical Education lessons we made shelves and sewed things. We had wonderful New Year’s Eve celebrations, and there was a big fir-tree standing in the middle of the school hall.

I recall with pleasure both the pioneer camps and military games: we had to find a hidden flag and so on. At the pioneer camps military games were popular. They had to prepare the youth for defending their Motherland, usually children were separated into two teams, put on different uniforms and were ‘fighting.’ Their goal was to find the headquarters of the enemies and to take their flag.

I took part in amateur talent activities; we had a wonderful theater studio, and our Physics teacher managed it. So I was the main star over there, I played the leading roles. We performed ‘Poverty is No Crime’ [a play by A.N. Ostrovsky (1823-1886): Famous Russian playwright, author of more than fifty plays, both social and historical] and I played the main role. There were evenings of amateur talent activities at the local Palace of Culture [a kind of recreation center], there was a good House of Pioneers. Also, when they organized evenings of amateur talent activities, I recited poetry to musical accompaniment.

I recall my childhood with great pleasure, not paying attention to all the difficulties. We had always been at the very center of life, not paying attention to the fact that we were Jews. And we had friends and were dating. We were friends of the Parmit brothers; they were Jews and all three of them were murdered during World War II. The brothers played different musical instruments, first mandolins and then violins. I had friends only among my schoolmates. We danced: in summer in the railway club and on the territory of the Putyatin garden. We danced foxtrot, tango and waltz. We had optional dancing lessons at school.

Besides, we had a very good Music teacher, Grigory Vikentievitch Uspensky. He told us a lot about music and composers. I started to take some additional music lessons: there was a piano at my Aunt Zhenya’s, but it was standing in a very cold room, which could be hardly warmed up, and it was almost impossible to practice, so I stopped doing this.

I liked our Geography teacher Galina Konstantinovna and our Chemistry teacher too. He always said, ‘Nobody knows Chemistry so well as to get an excellent grade, I know it well enough to get a four [out of five].’ I remember also, that we had a very good Physics teacher, Anna Semenovna Ossipova. Her brother came from Leningrad once for New Year’s Eve, when we performed ‘Poverty is No Crime.’

He invited me for a dance and started to make me compliments, he said that I should apply to the Theater Institute. I was burning to do that and before World War II, I wrote to GITIS [the State Institute for Theater Arts in Moscow], I even got a booklet with rules of admittance from there.

Daddy, of course, tried to dissuade me from it: ‘To be an actress, you need to be beautiful.’ And I replied, ‘Father, I’m not ugly.’ And my boyfriend Valery Buchinsky – he was killed in World War II – tried to dissuade me too. And then the Great Patriotic War came: we had the graduation party in June, on 17th June 1941, and the war started on 22nd June.

However, my friend Rebecca and I were in the last grade and we decided to enter the Philological Faculty of Leningrad University and even had a chance to send them some of our documents. I don’t remember why we chose that particular faculty, probably, we thought that it was great, because it was connected with literature. At first Rebecca and I studied in different classes. And I don’t know remember why, but I had some argument with my friend Valentina Egorova, maybe, we liked the same guy, maybe it was something else.

In any case, I felt such loneliness… The depression started, I needed some support, and I spoke to Rebecca, and then I moved to her class. And we agreed to apply to one institute and to prepare for entry exams together: Rebecca was very accurate, she could manage her time well, and I needed to have someone with such a character nearby. Of course, I had all excellent marks too, and studied well, but I wasn’t self-disciplined enough.

Rebecca and I participated in our school Komsomol bureau [the ruling Komsomol organ], and once they decided to edit a statement about paying for studies, and we told everyone about our resentment. Then they called us up just to this bureau and gave us a dressing down, and said that there was no need to talk.

It seems, at the beginning of the 1930s in Bologoye they organized something like a prayer house, men gathered there, and my father went there too. However, as a matter of fact, my parents didn’t follow Jewish traditions at home, they mainly celebrated Soviet holidays, and Father wasn’t a religious person, not at all. At school we didn’t study Hebrew, and there was neither a cheder nor a yeshivah in town. Our Dad had a bar mitzvah for sure, but they didn’t organize any bat mitzvot for us. We spoke Russian at home, sometimes putting in separate Yiddish words.

Of course, Grandmother Zlata kept the Sabbath. I recall one funny episode. In Volochek they had a housekeeper, but she was off on Saturday, and it was necessary to warm up the samovar: to pour in the water, then put coal, and light a match. Grandmother walked around and shouted: ‘Shabes [Sabbath] how can I warm up the samovar, how can I warm the samovar?’ I said, ‘Let me warm it up, you only have to take it down and put it on the floor, and I will put in the water.’

I took a pot, put the water in and said, ‘Granny, you now raise the samovar.’ Basically, I made her do almost everything on her own. Of course, she celebrated Sabbath and, I think, although I don’t know this for sure, that she was a religious person till her death. And the Alperovichs observed Jewish traditions too. I know that Grandfather prayed, but I don’t know, if he did it till his death.

I remember that I liked it very much when Grandmother Itka, Father’s stepmother, invited all our relatives to hers before Pesach and they baked matzot. They rolled out the dough on such huge, soft desks; then they put it with the very long oven fork into the Russian stove. I was so impressed by this performance! Of course, they had Pesach celebrations and, probably, conducted seder dinners, but I can’t recall any of those holidays. I told you the story of baking matzah, because I really loved the whole process and it’s such a bright memory that I simply can’t forget it!

We didn’t feel any particular anti-Semitism. Once at school they called me ‘zhidovka’ [kike], and that was a boy, who was in love with me later. His name was Monka [Edmond] Rogovich and he was Polish. There was a special class meeting, where they discussed his behavior.

We celebrated holidays the same as now: gathered with relatives, ate tasty food and talked. We went to demonstrations on 1st May, or on October Revolution Day 16 –they were held on the football field – and sang songs. Usually we celebrated all holidays in school, and I was the main boss over there. We sang pioneer songs at demonstrations, but I don’t remember exactly which ones.

My sister Sophia – Sarah Alperovich, in her passport – was born on 25th May 1926; we lived in Valdasi. As a matter of fact, she was a madcap; she’d better been a boy, not a girl. She would play with boys, run and fight; Sophia never was calm, never sat still and always hurried somewhere. She was a worse student than I, but, after graduation from school, she came to Leningrad and entered the Faculty of History in ‘Gertzenovsky’ [the Pedagogical Institute, named after Gertzen (Hertzen), Russian revolutionary, writer and philosopher].

Anyway, she didn’t finish the Institute as she got married. Her husband Alexander was a sailor, and they sent him to the North, to Polyarny [small settlement at Kola Bay], and she departed together with him. Then he served in Dikson [port city on the Kara Sea], Magadan [regional center located on the Sea of Okhotsk], Vladivostok [big city in the Far East], Nakhodka [port city situated on the Japanese Sea, 100 kilometers from Vladivostok], and they never came back to Leningrad.

They have two children: Boris and Olga, who both live in Vladivostok. Some time ago, Olga’s daughter’s got married, and Sophia has grandchildren now. In spite of the fact that my husband is Russian, and Sophia’s husband is a Jew, she doesn’t identify herself as a Jewish woman any more than I do. Sophia’s son Boris is married to a Russian, his son is married to a Russian too, and Olga was married to a Russian, and her daughter too. So all of them are Russified.

Vladimir, the son of my nephew Boris, graduated from the Law Faculty of Vladivostok University; he got married while a student. Recently, together with his young wife, who is a lawyer too, he moved to Moscow to get some additional education. Perhaps, they will stay to live there. Sophia calls us often, we write letters to each other, and I have many photos from Vladivostok in our family album.

Lilia [Matveevna Danilova], my other sister, was born on 19th February 1941. Mother wasn’t a very young woman, she was 41, but Dad wanted a boy. So they decided to keep the child, when she got pregnant. We had already grown up and thought of leaving home, and they didn’t want to stay alone. I remember why they called her Lilia. There was one Jewish family in Bologoye, the parents and three daughters.

One of them, Lilia, was a real beauty, and when I looked at her I got jealous. In her honor I named my sister Lilia: she was dark and I believed that she would be as beautiful. Lilia grew up mainly in Dad’s absence, without a father: she was four, when Dad came back from the front in 1945. And then, while she studied in the ninth grade, Father died. She was less lively than we were. Mother always said, ‘Why is Lilia so sad?’ And she asked us, me and Sophia, ‘Why are you so beautiful, and I’m not like you?’

Later Lilia went to Leningrad, finished college, and got a job assignment to Vladimir 17. She met her husband, an ordinary Russian guy, at some dance. Thank God, they have lived together for forty years. They have two children and grandchildren already too. All of them immigrated to America; they live near Los Angeles. First her elder daughter Svetlana went to America.

She got married to a Jew from Odessa called Vladimir. They are great friends, he makes good money, and Svetlana gave birth to two children. Then Lilia, her husband and their younger daughter Elena together with her husband moved to California too. They left a year or two ago. We keep in touch; my sister continues to write and calls often. I have good relations with both my nieces too.

  • During the war

On 19th October 1941 we left for evacuation in goods wagons. My mother and sisters and I went on the upper deck, and Grandfather with Grandmother on the lower one. They gave us some food at certain stations and in certain wagons: bread and something else. We went under bombings, because we left after the Germans took Kalinin [today Tver, regional center 175 kilometers from Moscow]. They bombed the railway rolling stock in front of us, and we stopped very often.

Before we departed, Mother made flannel-wool dressing gowns for us, and we all had knapsacks with documents. Mother said, ‘My daughters, you run and I’ll manage somehow with Lilia.’ Lilia was four months old, when World War II started, and seven months, when we departed for evacuation. Finally, we happily arrived in Chuvashia on 7th November 1941. The Chuvash people [a Turkic ethnic group, living mainly on the Middle Volga] met us.

They were fine fellows; they welcomed us in a very friendly manner and hosted us well. They came to take us on the sledges, then guided us to the village, put us up in their houses. The Chuvash didn’t speak Russian, and we, naturally, didn’t know any Chuvash. The only way to communicate with them was by using gestures. They placed us with some illiterate peasants – an old woman, her daughter-in law, and the little boy, whose father went to the army, but we learned Chuvash quickly.

At first they employed us at the motor-transport station and I became a weigher. It was a night job, and it was very cold, Mother muffled me in ‘valenki’ [traditional Russian felt boots] and a sheepskin. We used all winter clothes that we had taken with us. We sold Father’s clothes – he had a ‘bekesh’ [short sheepskin] – as it was necessary to buy food. After I found a job, I got a food ration.

Then, my pal Sarah Sigal, who repatriated to Israel later on, worked as a head bookkeeper in ‘raizemotdel’ [regional land department] and invited me and Sophia, one of my cousins, to be accountants. We even learned about external courses for accountants, and I applied for those courses. Later they moved us from Tarkhany village to a village, where I was employed as an accountant. We got a separate house over there, while our grandparents stayed in Tarkhany. We bought a goat, a couple of pigs, some chickens, and organized our own husbandry.

We returned from evacuation by train, in regular passenger wagons. I don’t remember if we had to pay for the tickets. And there was some Moscow couple in front of us, so Mother asked them to accompany me in Moscow. That’s why I dropped off in Moscow and spent a whole day there. I had to do that because we had a ration, and my mother wasn’t sure that we could get food at home in Bologoye. So she decided that I’d better try to do that in Moscow.

I don’t remember, if I got any food or not, but I think Mother risked a lot, leaving her daughter alone. I have no idea how we kept the connection with my father. Maybe, we wrote him a letter. Perhaps, he knew our address in Chuvashia, because when we left for evacuation, he was in the Home guard; he went to the front a little bit later.

So we came back home in 1943, in March, just after the Stalingrad Battle 18. Bologoye was destroyed, but not completely, most of the houses were intact and only some were bombed. Our house was preserved, and our family lived there till Dad’s death.

When we came back from evacuation to Bologoye, our neighbors were very glad to see us. Some of them didn’t even leave; they lived under the bombing, made kitchen gardens everywhere, and ploughed up where it was possible. The evacuation, apparently, wasn’t obligatory. However, we certainly wouldn’t have survived: we were not afraid of hunger as much as of the Germans that could have come to kill all Jews. 

I wanted to study very much, but we – my sister and I – got typhus and spotted fever just after we came back home in 1943. And it was necessary to get some food wherever and however possible, so Mother and Grandmother Itka began to fry fish and bring it to the trains [Bologoye is a large railway station]. Later they found a little bit of wheat somewhere and started to bake pies and cakes and meet the trains. Not only my mother was baking, other women did the same.

Fortunately, during the Holocaust almost all of our family survived: my sisters, mother and father. However, my cousin Zusya, the son of my mother’ sister Tatiana, was killed near Leningrad. On my father’s side only Dad fought, and on my mother’s side Uncle Isaac was a colonel of railway troops. The husband of Aunt Bertha was arrested in 1938 [during the period of the Great Terror]; she was exiled too.

That meant that both the war and the concentration camps, thank God, passed them by. Besides, her husband David Ilkovsky was a Communist, he graduated from the High Party School 19 in Moscow, and I never heard any ‘anti-Sovietchina’ [speeches against Soviet power and Communist order] from him.

  • Later life

In 1944 I went to Leningrad to apply for the Medical Institute. My friend Rebecca, who had entered the Philological Faculty earlier, during the evacuation, advised me against entering this faculty: ‘It is necessary to read a lot, and you have poor eyesight. Now after the war, there are plenty of injured, you should go to the Medical Faculty, and you’ll always have a piece of bread, and it’s a useful job.’ I obeyed her, entered with no exams – I had an excellent school leaving certificate  – and they even wanted to admit me to the Dentist Faculty, but I decided to apply for the medical one. That one was also in Leningrad.

The Dentist Faculty was situated on the street named after Peter Lavrov [one of the oldest streets in the city, today it has its pre-Revolution name Furshtatskaya], in a very beautiful building. And I went to the 7th November [day of the October Revolution] Ball. My hair had grown a little, girls helped to curl it, using pieces of paper and so I had a new haircut. I had my mother’s shoes; Father had bought her those shoes just before the war: they were very beautiful, gray, with high heels, and a net, something like open-toe sandals. Mom gave me those shoes and a piece of the gray crepe de Chine, from which they sewed a ‘sun-flared’ dress in the atelier on Gorky Street.

I also went to the New Year’s Ball in the Teachers’ House. There were light effects, balloons and mirrors. I, after all, danced very well; I even got a prize for dancing some years earlier, while studying in Bologoye. There were mainly girls in our Medical Institute, and from time to time, we got together with some college, for example, the highest Technical Engineering College, and organized dance evenings. At the Institute I had both Jewish and Russian pals, we got on very well and arranged gatherings for many years. The last time we met, was forty years after our graduation.

I studied at the Medical Institute for four years. Part of that time I lived on the campus of that Institute, and later I got married and lived at my husband’s, and then my son was born, and I had to take a year’s pause. Then, after I came back, I had to pass two extra exams, for the Institute changed its status and turned to a Sanitary-Hygienic one.

The first year after my graduation and diploma I didn’t work, but then I was sick of staying at home, and they sent me to the sanitary epidemiological station of Dzerzhinsky district, where I was head of the school sanitary department. [Editor’s note: Such sanitary epidemiological services existed in all parts of the city, they controlled the cleanness and hygiene in different organizations.]

After World War II none of my relatives left the country. And where could we go? To America? With no money? And there was no Israel at the time. And they didn’t discuss the foundation of the state of Israel 20, and I can’t even recall when I learned about it. 

When I studied in the third year of my Institute, in 1946, Father bought a voucher to the health resort ‘Shirokoe,’ which was lucky from all points of view. They put me in a club, called ‘monkey place.’ And my future husband, Valentin Dremlug, lived just opposite – at the so-called ‘blue dacha 21.’ After I arrived, he said, ‘One more monkey has come to the monkey place.’ The next day, in the morning, I went to the dining room, raised my eyes and saw a puny man walk before me. I passed him and paid no attention. After breakfast I went back and saw him again. He stopped and said, ‘Excuse me, are you staying here too? Do you live in the club? Did you come a long time ago? I see you for the first time.’ That was the very beginning. I stayed in this health resort for two weeks, and he left a bit before my holidays came to an end.

Then he went to Leningrad, and I came back to Bologoye. And we made an agreement that he would meet me at the railway station. I arrived in Leningrad, walked a little and saw that everyone was meeting people with flowers. Of course, like a provincial girl, I was trying hard to find the biggest bouquet; however, he wasn’t among the ‘big bouquets.’ I found him finally just near the railway station building with a small bouquet in his hands. Well, so we met, he took me to my campus on Kirillovskaya Street, gave me the flowers: there were red pinks and asparagus, a very elegant bouquet for those times.

And so we began being friends, and then, in November he proposed to me, although we knew each other for three months only. We got married in January 1947. First there was a wedding without any registration, and then we went to ZAGS and registered our relations. [ZAGS: ‘Signing-up the acts of civil conditions’ – the state establishment, where marriages, divorces, births and deaths are registered.]

My father didn’t like my husband at first, not because he wasn’t Jewish, but due to the fact that he wasn’t a tall and strong man. He even blamed my mother, who went to Leningrad to check my choice before the wedding took place. But later they had good relations, and we never had any troubles because of his nationality.

His mother’s parents were peasants, and his father’s parents were craftsmen. Apparently, all his ancestors were Russians, but my mother-in-law told me that her grandfather was a Nikolai soldier 22, a baptized Jew. I don’t know if that is true, probably, she just wanted to say something pleasant to me.

His father Valentin was responsible for electricity in Peterhof Palace [summer residence of Russian Emperors, built in the 1720s on the orders of Peter the Great], he sailed with the tsar on ‘Shtandart’ [famous ship, which the last Russian tsar used to sail on]. And till his very death in 1940 he was an electrician at the Russian Museum, at the Ethnography Museum, and, I think, even in the Winter Palace [Tsar Palace in Petersburg, after October Revolution of 1917 and until today the State Hermitage].

My husband’s mother Lidia Alexandrovna was a florist. She graduated from the Genetics Faculty of Leningrad University and developed new, different sorts of flowers. She worked on the so-called control-experience station in Pushkin [one of the Leningrad outskirts, got its name after the poet Alexander Pushkin, before October Revolution of 1917 used to be called Tsar Selo, or Tsar Village].

My husband Valentin entered the Hydrography Institute even before World War II but he didn’t have a chance to graduate. He passed his finals in Krasnoyarsk [big city in Siberia]. After the war finished, he went to get a PhD degree in Leningrad; in 1949 he fulfilled his academic program and got a job as the head of a sub-faculty. He worked in the Highest Arctic College until his retirement in the 1980s. He was assistant professor there and he held lectures.

Our son Igor was born in December 1947; he lives in Leningrad. He followed in his father’s footsteps: he was involved in ocean research and went on expeditions. Igor, of course, always knew that he is a Jew, that his grandparents were Jews. I don’t know for sure, when or how he learned it. I remember only that once he came home and said, ‘Mom, you don’t know the Jewish language yourself and didn’t teach me either.’ However, theoretically, we didn’t have any reasons to teach him the language, or the traditions, which I didn’t know myself. He didn’t ever suffer from the fact that he was a Jew, because, when he turned sixteen, he got a passport, where it was written that he was Russian 23.

After perestroika 24 he left science, and now he is involved in insurance business. He has a son, Anton. Igor was married twice: his first wife Natalia, the mother of his son, is half-Jewish, like him. She is an architect, and she lives in Petersburg not far from us. His second wife Irina was an engineer, and after perestroika she was involved in insurance business too. She is Jewish, and they went to Israel some years ago. He said that this trip changed his life and he wants to go to Israel one more time. He lives together with his second wife and their beloved cat, Mars, in her apartment in one of the new districts of the city.

As for Stalin, I remember the following incident. Zhenya, my father’ sister, went to Leningrad and stayed at our place. And suddenly she noticed that a picture, which I liked very much, a picture of Stalin holding a girl, hung next to my son Igor’s bed. And she said, ‘How come you put this monster near your child’s bed?’ I was surprised, but I took the picture off. And after Stalin died [in 1953], I cried, and we all cried. Later, of course, we began to understand what was going on.

When the Doctor’s Plot 25 started, I worked at the sanitary epidemiological station and we had quite a few Jews over there. Only two Jews remained: the main epidemiologist and I. All the others were dismissed on grounds of staff reduction. And among them was the head, Rosenshtein, who came to me and said, ‘Anna Matveevna, please write a letter of resignation to free the working place.’ You see, they threw him out because there ‘were no vacancies.’ And my husband also said, ‘Leave your work, you won’t be so nervous anymore.’ Anyway, in 1952 I resigned and didn’t go to work for a couple of years. My husband earned enough, and I didn’t want to suffer from anti-Semitism. When the situation stabilized and changed for the better, I began to work again.

But, to be frank that was the only situation, when I experienced anti-Semitism: never ever, never again did something bad happen to me because I’m a Jew. They never oppressed and never insulted me. I lived in a Russian family, among Russians and worked where there were both Russians and Jews.

And then, thanks to the protection of my husband’s pal Jacob Katznelson – by the way all of Valentin’s friends, are Jews – I started to work at the State Institute of Examination of People’s Working Abilities, in the department in charge of finding jobs for people with special needs. Later the director of the clinic department advised me to write a dissertation. I was interested in people suffering from heart-vascular diseases and chose the topic of ‘Finding a job for people with myocardial infarct’: I studied heart-vascular pathologies, made an experiment on the Kirov factory [one of the largest metallurgical factories in whole country] and completed the dissertation in January 1971.

After I turned 55, I became a part-time employee in a clinic, where I worked till 1981, when we moved to our new apartment. Here I got a part-time job in polyclinic #51; I became a social researcher in the rehabilitation department and worked there for ten years. So far I have quite an impressive work experience.

Since my husband was a famous scientist – he continues to work, and the local papers write articles about him – we didn’t have a bad life, maybe lived in better conditions than many others. First we had a big apartment in the very center, and later, in 1981, we moved to our new three-room apartment, where we still live today. We could afford a trip to the Black Sea or to a sanatorium.

When our son was little, we rented a dacha in Zelenogorsk [small village near Leningrad, on the shore of the Gulf of Finland] and in the late 1980s we got a plot of land. We built a summerhouse there and I grow fruits and vegetables and flowers there too, and that dacha takes up all our free time. In summer we spend weeks over there.

My husband was very keen on his work. Even at home he spent a lot of time writing articles and doing scientific research, but I can’t say that he is a typical scientist, he isn’t lonely, he has many friends and pals. And we were meeting our friends very often, we went to visit them and invited them to our place. I always loved cooking and inventing new dishes. When we gathered with our friends and relatives, we always played cards.

My mother died in 1987 in Leningrad. In her last years she suffered from some heart disease. She was buried in the Jewish cemetery.

As for the changes, I consider that all that happened was very good. I see both the fall of the Berlin Wall and the opening of the Eastern block as positive developments. Life changed completely, in all directions, after 1989. But the most important is that I went to Israel, and that was truly a great event in my life. I learned many new things, talked to people, who live over there. I saw wonderful temples, unique architecture.

I learned how Jews pray, how they spend their time, the way they work and what clothes they wear. I tried some Jewish meals and some fruits, which I had never eaten before. Above all, I was impressed with the Israeli nature. And of course, I compared their lifestyle to ours, and found that our lifestyles are quite a bit different. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough money for me to go there together with my husband. They invited him too, and he wanted to go.

In principle, I don’t take an active part in the local Jewish community life because of my age and health conditions. I would go to ‘Hesed Abraham’ 26 with great pleasure to attend interesting evenings and meetings, if my health allowed. For example, when I could, I went to the Big Concert Hall ‘Oktyabrsky’ [concert hall in the center of St. Petersburg] for the Jewish New Year, once I went to the Jewish songs concert together with my son and his family. When there is something Jewish on TV, my husband always calls me.

Some time ago I read Golda Meir’s 27 book. She was completely right, I think. She was right that she helped to build the state of Israel, and she changed the attitude toward Israel in the world, due to her activities Israel became stronger and more powerful. But it’s horrible, that they are still fighting. But this Golda was a great woman!

Earlier we didn’t celebrate any Jewish holidays, even though I celebrate all holidays. I celebrate holidays, not paying attention to their meaning or ‘nationality.’ For me it’s just a reason to meet relatives and friends and to cook tasty meals, and to talk and play cards and so on. And now I don’t celebrate Jewish holidays because I don’t know exactly how to celebrate and what to do. But my cousin came some time ago from Israel, and we celebrated Rosh Hashanah together. 

We get food packages and congratulations for the holidays from ‘Hesed Abraham.’ My husband, Valentin Valentinovich, always gets congratulation cards on Victory Day 28, and received a postcard on his 85th birthday.

Did we have any friends among Jews? I have only one friend, Rebecca, while my husband Valentin Valentinovich had many friends, both Jewish and Russian. All my colleagues, with whom I’m in touch, are Russians. We didn’t choose our friends because of the national factor. 

Talking about our relatives, I have frequent contacts with my sisters and cousins. Especially with Nellie, Svetlana, Ludmila and Alya – I write to her, as she lives in Klin [small town 70 kilometers north of Moscow]. I hear less from Inna, who left for Germany. She is from another circle; all her friends and pals are involved mainly in selling goods. 

Of course, I didn’t maintain relations with all my relatives: for example, Aunt Ida, I didn’t like her too much, and we met mainly at funeral ceremonies. But I loved Aunt Laylya [Esther Borisovna Bogorad], Uncle Semen’ wife, very much, more than him, more than her daughters. So, as a matter of fact, I choose friends not because of their age, or nationality, or even family connections, I choose friends because of their spirit. 

  • 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 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.

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 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.

5 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.

6 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.

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 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.

9 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.

10 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.

11 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.

12 Card system

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

13 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.

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 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.

16 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.

17 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.

18 Stalingrad Battle

17th July 1942 - 2nd February 1943. The Southwestern 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.

19 Party Schools

They were established after the Revolution of 1917, in different levels, with the purpose of training communist cadres and activists. Subjects such as 'scientific socialism' (Marxist-Leninist Philosophy) and 'political economics' besides various other political disciplines were taught there.

20 Creation of the State of Israel

From 1917 Palestine was a British mandate. Also in 1917 the Balfour Declaration was published, which supported the idea of the creation of a Jewish homeland in Palestine. Throughout the interwar period, Jews were migrating to Palestine, which caused the conflict with the local Arabs to escalate. On the other hand, British restrictions on immigration sparked increasing opposition to the mandate powers. Immediately after World War II there were increasing numbers of terrorist attacks designed to force Britain to recognize the right of the Jews to their own state.

These aspirations provoked the hostile reaction of the Palestinian Arabs and the Arab states. In February 1947 the British foreign minister Ernest Bevin ceded the Palestinian mandate to the UN, which took the decision to divide Palestine into a Jewish section and an Arab section and to create an independent Jewish state. On 14th May 1948 David Ben Gurion proclaimed the creation of the State of Israel. It was recognized immediately by the US and the USSR. On the following day the armies of Egypt, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Iraq, Syria and Lebanon attacked Israel, starting a war that continued, with intermissions, until the beginning of 1949 and ended in a truce.

21 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.

22 Nikolai's army

Soldier of the tsarist army during the reign of Nicholas I when the draft lasted for 25 years.

23 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.

24 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

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

25 Doctors’ Plot

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

26 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.

27 Golda Meir (1898-1978)

Born in Kiev, she moved to Palestine and became a well-known and respected politician who fought for the rights of the Israeli people. In 1948, Meir was appointed Israel's Ambassador to the Soviet Union. From 1969 to 1974 she was Prime Minister of Israel. Despite the Labor Party's victory at the elections in 1974, she resigned in favor of Yitzhak Rabin. She was buried on Mount Herzl in Jerusalem in 1978.

28 Victory Day in Russia (9th May)

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

Irina Golbreich

Irina Golbreich
Riga
Latvia
Interviewer: Ella Levitskaya
Date of interview: July 2005

This interview with Irina Golbreich was conducted in the social center of the Jewish community of Riga 1. The community has become a second home for many people. This is what Irina said, speaking from her heart. Irina is not too tall. She has curly, chestnut-brown hair. Her face wears the expression of shyness and kindness. Perhaps, for this reason many people call her affectionately Irochka. Irina worked as a school teacher and I’m sure her students were lucky to have her as their teacher. Irina is a soloist of the Jewish choir at the community. She’s been with the choir since 1994, when it was established. I’ve been at a concert of the choir and I was very much impressed. The choir sang Jewish songs, and they sang through their heart. The choir is like a family, and each of them feels like a member of the family. This family helped Irina to go through the dramatic loss in her life, when her husband died a year earlier.

My childhood and family

During the war

After the war

Life in the free Latvian republic

Glossary

My childhood and family

My father’s family lived in Daugavpils [150 km from Riga], Latvia. My grandfather Naum Mikhelson was born in Daugavpils. I don’t know his date of birth. I don’t know my grandmother’s name or where she came from. My grandfather was a grain dealer, and my grandmother was a housewife. The family was big. My grandmother had twelve children, and ten of them survived. I knew five of them besides my father. My father Boris [common name] 2, Jewish name Ber, Mikhelson, was the youngest child. He was born in 1904. I don’t know the dates of birth of his brothers or sisters. I only remember their names. My father’s brothers were called Leib and Isaac Henrich, and his sisters Yevgenia, Alexandra and Emma. They lived in Riga, and I happened to know them. They must have had Jewish names as well, but I don’t know those. My father may have told me about the others, but I don’t remember anything about them.

I traveled to Daugavpils only once, and I can’t describe the town. My father told me there was a large Jewish community in the town. There were a few synagogues, a cheder and a Jewish cemetery.

My father’s family was very religious. My grandfather had a beautiful voice. He was a chazzan at a synagogue in Daugavpils. The family observed all Jewish traditions. The family celebrated Sabbath and all Jewish holidays. My grandfather and his sons went to the synagogue on Saturday, and on holidays the whole family went to the synagogue. The sons studied at the cheder, which was mandatory for Jewish boys. At 13 the sons had their bar mitzvah, the coming-of-age ceremony. My father’s family spoke Yiddish.

All children received secular education. I know no details, but they must have studied at the gymnasium [grammar school]. At least, my father did. After finishing it he entered the Agricultural Faculty of Riga University. He moved to Riga and rented a room. Anti-Semitism in Latvia was strong at the time. One lecturer told my father that he might study at university and graduate from it, but there was little chance he would find a job. Perhaps, his words affected my father so that he never finished his studies. He quit university and took a course for amateur radio engineers. After finishing the course he went to work as a radio engineer. Besides repairing radios, he also modified them.

My father’s brothers also moved to Riga. It was easier to find a job in a bigger town. Leib and Henrich were shop assistants and clerks. They were single. One of my father’s sisters finished a course for medical nurses. She specialized in obstetrics. She worked as an obstetrician nurse at the Jewish hospital 3 in Riga. She was well valued at her work. Alexandra was single. Emma and Yevgenia were housewives after getting married. They had Jewish husbands. I remember Emma’s marital name. She was Rozhevskaya. My father’s other brothers and sisters moved to other towns and countries. My father told me that one of his brothers, a dental technician or a dentist, lived in London. This is all I know about them. My father’s parents died in the late 1920s or early 1930s. They were buried at the Jewish cemetery in Daugavpils.

Yakov Rozenblit, my maternal grandfather, came from Odessa 4, southern Ukraine. He had graduated from Odessa University before getting married. He was a chemical engineer. He must have been very intelligent, if he managed to get a higher education in Russia, being Jewish. There was a quota for maximum five percent Jewish admission 5. My grandfather must have had many merits to have overcome this barrier.

My grandmother Henrietta came from Riga. I don’t know how they met, but they did and got married. I know that after getting married they lived in Odessa for some time. Their three children were born in Odessa: Mama’s older brother Solomon, sister Esphir and my mama Rachil, born in 1905. Mama told me her family moved to Riga after World War I, probably before the Soviet Russia officially recognized the independence of Latvia 6. In Riga they lived with my great-grandfather. I don’t know whose father he was. Mama told me that my grandfather and great-grandfather wore black clothes and had beards.

My great-grandfather was deeply religious. My grandfather and grandmother were not so fanatically religious, but they observed Jewish traditions. They celebrated Sabbath and Jewish holidays at home. On holidays they went to the synagogue. The children received primary Jewish education. At least, they knew Jewish traditions and religion. However, the family focused on secular education. My grandfather believed that only an educated person could become successful. He arranged for it that his son and daughters had higher education. They were all very cultured. My grandfather had a big library, and the children studied music and foreign languages. They often went to theaters and concerts. They spoke Yiddish, German, as many people did in Riga, and a bit of Russian.

Solomon, the oldest son, graduated from the Law Faculty of Riga University. Esphir and Mama studied at the Conservatoire. Esphir was a violinist, and Mama was a pianist.

In 1920 Latvia gained independence. There wasn’t as much anti-Semitism there as in tsarist Russia, and the Jewish quota was cancelled.

I don’t know what caused my grandmother Henrietta to move to Lithuania, where she had some relatives, in the 1920s, while Grandfather Yakov and Uncle Solomon moved to the Soviet Union. Anyway, my grandmother and grandfather separated. My grandfather Yakov and Uncle Solomon moved to Moscow. Solomon went to work as a lawyer. He married a Jewish girl from Moscow. In 1926 their daughter Yudith was born. My uncle and his family lived in Leningrad for some time, but then they moved back to Moscow.

My parents corresponded with them. They wrote each other with long intervals until finally this correspondence came to a complete end. Later I found out that the Soviet regime didn’t appreciate its citizens having relatives abroad or corresponding with them 7. Apart from everything else, Latvia was a bourgeois country, and this correspondence might have had sad consequences for my uncle. Fortunately, he managed to avoid repression [Great Terror] 8 in the Soviet Union in the 1930s and in the postwar years.

My aunt Esphir also left Latvia. I knew about her from what Mama told me and also, from her letters and pictures that she had sent before the war. She moved to Paris, France, where she got married and had a son. His name was Michel. She divorced her husband, and her son stayed with her. 

After finishing the Conservatoire, Mama worked as a teacher at a music school. 

My mother’s cousins, my grandmother’s sister’s children, also lived in Riga. Mama and her cousin sister were very close and often visited each other. My father and mama’s cousin brother [Boris] were also friends. My father often visited his friend, and so my parents met at the home of Mama’s cousins. Their surname was Genkin. My parents got married in 1930. I don’t know if they had a traditional Jewish wedding. My father’s parents had passed away, and Mama’s parents had moved away. My parents were not too religious. However, I have no information in this regard whatsoever.

My parents rented an apartment. This house is still there. It wasn’t destroyed during the war. This was where I grew up and from where we evacuated. My father was a foreman at the Kolibri knitwear factory in Riga. Mama was a music teacher. I was born in 1934, and I was the only child in the family. I don’t know why my parents gave me the name of Irina. Mama never told me, and I never asked. There is no one left to tell me now.

Our family spoke Russian in my childhood. Russian is my mother tongue. When my parents didn’t want me to understand the subject of their discussion, they switched to Yiddish. They didn’t teach me Yiddish. When I was born, Mama took maternity leave for some time to breastfeed me. Later she went back to work. I had no nanny. Perhaps, my parents couldn’t afford it. My father’s sisters Emma and Yevgenia were more than willing to take care of me having no children of their own. Mama took me to one of them before going to work in the morning and picked me up after work. My aunts took me to the town park, read me fairy-tales and played with me. Later my parents hired me a Latvian nanny. She was a very kind woman. I was attached to her. She spoke German, and I picked up German pretty soon. She stayed with us till my parents sent me to a private kindergarten. Our tutors spoke Russian and German with us. I didn’t attend the kindergarten all the time. At times I stayed with my father’s sisters.

My parents were not religious. They didn’t celebrate Jewish holidays. My father didn’t go to the synagogue. My father’s older sisters observed Jewish traditions, and we visited them on Jewish holidays. However, I guess, for my parents this was more of a tribute to family traditions, rather than attachment to Jewish traditions. We also celebrated our birthdays in the family. I remember this.

My parents took a great interest in life in the Soviet Union. My father often listened to radio programs about the Soviet Union and read all relevant newspaper articles. He told Mama and me that the Soviet Union was the country of equality and fraternity, where all ethnic groups, however small they were, had equal rights, and there was no oppression, and that the very idea of the country was in internationalism. These were attractive ideas, and my parents believed in them. I was just a child, and the Soviet Union was like a fairy-tale country where all dreams came true.

My parents also talked about Germany. Mama, in particular, hated the Fascist regime. She said that Germans, formerly a very civilized nation, turned into beasts killing and torturing people that were different from them. Mama often talked about Germany after it attacked Poland 9. I didn’t care about Germany at the time. It was far away, and I was sure it had nothing to do with our country.

In 1939 military bases [Annexation of Latvia to the USSR] 10 were established in Latvia. I have dim memories of this period of time. All I remember is that Mama organized a music club for the children of the Soviet Consulate employees. Mama was eager to visit her father and brother in Moscow. She requested the Consulate’s approval of her trip, but they refused her. Mama had no idea why.

In 1940 Latvia was annexed to the USSR. I remember how the Soviet forces came to Riga. There were tanks and trucks with the military wearing Soviet uniforms, moving along the streets. People standing on sidewalks greeted them, waving their hands and throwing flowers. My parents and I also went there. I was shouting greetings with the others and waved my hands at the passing tanks and trucks. I remember the feeling of admiration generated by the powerful capacity of the Soviet Army 11.

My parents were for the annexation of Latvia to the Soviet Union. They never joined the Party, but they believed that life would be better in Soviet Latvia, that discrimination would be eliminated, and people would be equal and free. They were not alone in their faith. However, I don’t think our life was different during the Soviet regime. We lived in the same apartment, and my father worked at the same factory, which already belonged to the Soviet people. I went to the same kindergarten. There were no improvements, but things were not getting worse either.

Some time later some disastrous and bizarre events started happening. However, they didn’t affect our family, though some of our relatives suffered from them. The first one was Mama’s cousin Boris Genkin. After Latvia was annexed to the Soviet Union, he went to Moscow to visit his relatives. He spoke poor Russian and had an accent. He was arrested on the charge of espionage. The investigation was prompt, and the trial lasted no longer than some minutes. Boris wasn’t even given the floor in court. He was convicted for espionage and sent to the Gulag 12.

His elderly parents, Grandmother’s sister, and her husband, had no idea where their son was for a long time. Then it was their turn. They were wealthy and owned a two-storied house. Actually, this was all the property they had. They were forced to leave their home, and on 14th June 1941, when deportation 13 of enemies of the people 14 from Latvia began, they were sent into exile to Siberia.

Their daughter was married. Her family name was Dembo, and she lived with her husband. She and her family were not affected by these actions. We couldn’t understand how two old people could be enemies of the Soviet regime? How could they pose a threat to it? People couldn’t understand things about the deportation, and this made it even more frightening, but at least, people knew about it, while Mama only got to know about Boris after the war, when we returned to Riga.

During the war

On 22nd June 1941, the war 15 began. The radio announced that Hitler’s army violated the Non-Aggression Treaty 16 and crossed the border of the USSR. My father listened to the radio and then told Mama what he had heard. Mama was busy doing routine things at home. My father told her that the Soviet Union was a big and strong country, and that the Red Army would beat the Germans in no time. I remember these words. My father had an indisputable authority with me, and I was sure that Mama had no grounds for worry.

German Air Forces started bombing Riga. It was particularly bad at night. I remember the banshee howl. We dressed in haste, running to the air raid shelter in the basement of the house across the street from our house. For the most part, there were old people, women and children in the shelter. Men stayed outside to put out fires from the bombs. Then there was all-clear banshee, and we could go home. At times we had to run to the air raid shelter two or three times per night. Somehow I remember night air raids. This was an enigmatic show with some kind of gleaming balloons in the sky.

Mama insisted that we evacuated. She knew that the Germans were killing Jews and was very scared. My father, on the contrary, was quite optimistic. He comforted Mama, telling her that if the Red Army had been successful fighting against German forces in Poland, they would have no problem defeating them in their own land. Mama didn’t give up. On 20th July Mama’s former student called us, telling us that there was some vacant space in her car, and we could join her to leave. My mother failed to reach my father at work. She also called my father’s sisters and brothers trying to convince them to join us, but they refused. They believed that the Germans were not as bad as the Soviets and were resolute about staying. None of them survived. They perished in Riga during the German occupation. I don’t know if they were killed in the Riga ghetto 17 or in the Rumbula forest 18.

Mama packed in haste, took Alexandr Dembo, her cousin’s son, and we left not knowing where we were heading. On our way we picked up some other people, and had to throw out some suitcases to vacate some space. All we had with us was what fit in the patchwork fabric bag. She knew that she could only take what she could carry herself. We reached Valka [on the Latvian-Estonian border] where I saw a German plane with a swastika on its wing for the first time in my life. It was flying low. I was told it was a bomber. It dropped bombs near the railway station. Fortunately, it didn’t destroy the railroad track, and we managed to catch a train. There were only three carriages, but all we cared about was getting out of there.

Mama was worried about my father, who stayed in Riga, fearing that we wouldn’t find him. Later we found out that my father evacuated shortly after we did. He left for Cheboksary a few days before the Germans occupied Riga. My father was 36, when the war began. In Cheboksary my father decided to volunteer to the front instead of waiting till he was regimented. The military office sent him to the Latvian division 19.

The three of us reached Rostov of Yaroslavskaya region [about 1200 km from Riga]. In early winter the Germans advanced significantly, and we had to move on. The children’s home of Rostov was also to evacuate to the rear of Russia. Mama knew she wouldn’t be able to support two children, and she sent Alexandr to the children’s home. He had a chance to survive there.

In Rostov we rented a room from an elderly couple. Our landlord often reminded us that we had to move on, because the Germans were advancing. Once Mama asked him why they intended to stay, and he replied that they were Russian, and the Germans would do them no harm, while we had to leave, being Jews. Of course, these discussions had their effect, and also, many families were leaving Rostov. We headed to the Ural. We arrived in the village of Ailino of Cheliabinsk region [about 3000 km from Riga]. The Germans never reached Rostov, and we could have stayed, but who could have known that then…

Life in Ailino was very hard. It was a small village with few streets, and old shabby huts. Many people evacuated there, and it was hard to find any accommodation. It took us some time before Mama managed to find accommodation. It was a house with two rooms. The landlords were in one, and another room was divided into two parts with a big Russian stove 20. There were two families living in them. One was a woman with two daughters, and the other woman had a son and a daughter. All children were older than me. These women’s husbands were at the front. The hut was packed, and looking back, I don’t really know how we managed there. The winter was cold, and none of us had blankets. All of us, eight people, slept on the stove bench. It was large, but not wide enough for eight people. The children stayed there during the daytime. We had no warm clothes till Mama somehow managed to get two cotton wool coats.

There wasn’t enough food. Mama couldn’t find a job. She had 200 g bread coupons 21 issued to the unemployed. It was just one slice of bread. It was bread with sawdust in it, underbaked and heavy. This was all the food we had. There were potatoes, cereals and milk sold at the market, but we had no money or clothes to trade for products. We were starving. It was hard till a Russian boarding school evacuated to Ailino. Its director sympathized with Mama and hired her as a tutor or an attendant. She was provided with some food there. Anyway, Mama tried to leave whatever food we had to me, and all she had was boiled drinking water. She developed dystrophy and was swelling.

Some time later Mama was allowed to take me to the boarding school. We were allowed to accommodate there. It solved two problems that we had: food and accommodation. The food we were provided with was rather miserable. We were given some skilly and cooked cereal. The children were weak, and the school suffered from epidemics. Many children were dying. I fell ill with measles. I stayed in hospital for a long time. After I was released from hospital I caught pneumonia. There were no antibiotics or any medications whatsoever available. Mama was told there was little chance that I would survive. Mama spent all her free time with me. I survived, and Mama decided we should move to a town where she could have more opportunities to find a job. We moved to the town of Satka in Cheliabinsk region.

My father found us when we were still in Ailino. He met a woman from Riga in Cheboksary, and she had corresponded with another family staying in Ailino, who wrote her that Mama and I were in the village. My father started writing to us from the front. We received these triangle letters with a field mail censorship stamp on them. There were no envelopes or stamps, the letter itself was folded into a triangle, and the address was written on the blank side. It was strange that the mail worked, and we received letters regularly. We knew that my father was in the Latvian division, but we didn’t know the location. Mama and I listened to the radio and knew that there were casualties in the Latvian division. We were so happy to receive another letter from my father. It meant that he was there and safe.

Life in Satka was far better than in Ailino. This was a small industrial town. There was Magnezit, a huge plant, manufacturing fire-proof bricks and fire-proof materials for blast furnaces. It owned a few kindergartens for the children of employees of the plant. Mama went to work as a music teacher in a kindergarten. She taught children music, singing, conducted a choir and prepared concerts in the kindergarten. Mama liked this job. I went to the same kindergarten. I was eight and had to go to school, but Mama told me she would teach me herself, and there were three meals provided in the kindergarten. This was a sufficient argument for me after the hunger in Ailino, though I was looking forward to going to school. We shared a room in the kindergarten with Mama’s colleague, who also had a daughter. The girl and I were the same age.

In 1943 my father joined us. He was wounded in his leg at the front. His bone was fractured, and the sinews were torn. He was provided with first aid in the field hospital and then sent to a rear hospital. My father stayed in a few hospitals and had several surgeries. He developed gangrene, and the doctors were thinking of amputating his leg. My father was at death’s door, but fortunately, the doctors helped him. His leg was shorter and curved, but he didn’t lose it. My father was strong and healthy, and he managed it well. However, he was demobilized from the army. A medical commission acknowledged that he wasn’t fit for further military service. He joined us and life became better.

My father went to work at the Magnezit plant. I don’t remember what kind of job he had. Veterans of the war were well-respected at work. My father was promoted. Mama and I were the family of a veteran. We received coupons for clothes and also, received a shared three-room apartment 22. There was a family in each room. Besides our family, there was a single woman in one room and a Jewish family from Poland. Their surname was Schtasberg. The father was raising three sons, whose mother had died. The neighbors got along well. Local residents were also good to us, and we felt quite at home.

In September 1943 I went to the first grade of the local Russian school. There were four to five pupils, evacuated from their home town, in each grade. There were five in my class, and two of them were Jewish like me. This was the first time I felt I was different from others. Our teachers treated us all right, but some of my co-students demonstrated that I was Jewish and different from the others. Local children had straight hair. I had curly hair and I was continuously teased. I wouldn’t say there was anything hostile about it. We played together a lot, but every now and then someone blabbed something indicating that I didn’t belong there. Besides, this only happened at school. My neighbor children and I got along well. I don’t know whether my parents faced any anti-Semitism. At least, they never mentioned it in my presence.

Another thing I remember about our life in Satka is that my father went to a village and brought a lot of cabbage. My parents cut it with long knives, and I was to add salt to it. We made a big barrel of sauerkraut and placed it on the balcony. It turned out very delicious. We also treated our neighbors and acquaintances to it.

I heard about the end of the war incidentally on 8th May 1945. I was passing through a yard where the children were playing and shouting, ‘The war is over! The war is over!’ I rushed home to tell my mother and our co-tenant lady. They just thought it was another children’s talk, but the next day the end of the war was announced on the radio. We had a black radio dish in the kitchen. It was never turned off. Everybody was happy that the war was over and we could go back home.

After the war

My father was the first to go to Riga to arrange some accommodation for us. Mama and I waited till my father notified us that it was time for us to come home. We went via Moscow and stayed there a few days to visit Mama’s brother Solomon and my grandfather. Uncle Solomon and Grandfather had not seen Mama for a long time, and they had never met me before. The reunion was very emotional. My uncle met us at the railway station, and we went to his home where we met his wife and daughter. The adults couldn’t stop talking after having not seen each other for so long. My uncle’s wife and her daughter, who was a few years older than me, spent much time with me. They showed me around Moscow. There was much destruction, but the city was beautiful, anyway. A few days later we left for Riga.

My father received a nice four-room apartment in the center of the town. Some time after we arrived, he was told that four rooms for one family were way too much, and that the authorities were planning to accommodate another family with us. At that time Mama’s cousin Dembo’s family returned from evacuation in Siberia. Mama had given them information about their son, and his mother found him at the children’s home and took him with her. He was in evacuation with his parents. They were staying with us looking for an apartment, but when Mama heard that there was another family to be accommodated with us, she decided that it was better to have her cousin living with us rather than some strangers whom we didn’t know. The Dembo family needed an apartment anyway, and Mama had them registered as tenants at this address 23.

This was how they stayed with us. Each family had two rooms, and we shared the kitchen, bathroom and the fore room. We got along well. Alexandr studied at an art school and became a good artist in due time. My parents went to work. Mama worked as a piano teacher at the music high school. She worked there till she retired. My father worked as a foreman at the factory.

When we returned to Riga, my parents heard about the terrible destiny of my father’s family, who perished in the ghetto. I don’t think mass media disclosed this information about the Riga ghetto, mass shootings of Jews in the Rumbula forest or the Kaiserwald concentration camp 24 during the war. At least, my parents had not heard about it until after we returned to Riga. They were so distressed and shocked. My grandmother Henrietta, who was living in Lithuania after my grandfather had moved to Moscow, also perished. She was one of many Jewish people, whom the Fascists exterminated shortly after they invaded Lithuania.

Mama’s sister Esphir survived. She stayed in Paris after the German army occupied France. Her son Michel was in the French army. My aunt’s French neighbors gave her shelter during the German occupation. They saved her life. Perhaps, a number of people knew she was hiding there, but they never gave her away to the Fascists. After the war my aunt stayed in Paris. Her son Michel returned from the front. Unfortunately, a few years after the war he died tragically in a car accident.

This is all the information I have about my aunt. We didn’t correspond with her. Latvia was a Soviet republic, and residents of the USSR faced severe risks corresponding with their relatives living abroad. There were persecutions after the war as well, and it was dangerous to correspond with people from capitalist countries. The very fact might have been sufficient evidence for a conviction for espionage.

Now people often say that in 1940 the Soviet Union occupied Latvia and that this was a military crime. However, I do think that for many Latvian Jews this happened to be their rescue, since if Latvia hadn’t belonged to the Soviet Union when the war began, Jewish families wouldn’t have evacuated to Russia, which was a chance to survive. We would have stayed in Latvia as well and would have shared the destiny of those Jews, who didn’t want to evacuate and perished.

Also, after we returned to Riga, we learned that extermination of Jews was not merely the fault of the Germans. Latvian residents also had their share in what was happening. I studied in a Russian school. There were Russian, Jewish and Latvian students at school, but I faced no expressions of anti-Semitism at school.

My parents didn’t observe any Jewish traditions after we returned to Riga. They were not religious before, and when Latvia was annexed to the Soviet Union, the Soviet authorities struggled against religion 25 and national traditions. We celebrated Soviet holidays at home: 1st May, 7th November 26, Victory Day [on 9th of May] 27, 8th March, International Women’s Day. We also celebrated New Year and the birthdays of members of our family.

The attitude of my parents towards the Soviet regime changed. Feeling rather optimistic in 1940 and believing that our life would improve, after deportation in 1941 they probably started wondering whether what they believed in was true. The majority of those who were deported were women, old people and children. How could they possibly be enemies of the Soviet rule? Were the Genkin, two old people, who died from life hardships and severe climate in exile in Siberia, enemies of the people? I believe this was when my parents’ attitude started changing. After the war they were no longer adamant supporters of the Soviet rule. Postwar events only strengthened this attitude of theirs. However, we had no choice and there was no alternative to adjustment to the Soviet rule.

In 1948 the period of trials against cosmopolitans 28 started in the USSR. Of course, it wasn’t so massive in Latvia, but there were occurrences of this kind. My father’s friend Boris Peker lived in the same house where we lived. They often met and talked. One day my father heard that Boris was arrested by the NKVD 29. My father was very concerned. He had many books about the history of the Jewish people. The Soviet regime also intended to exterminate the national self-consciousness, besides struggling against religion. So this kind of literature was banned. I remember my father burning these books. He told me to discuss this with no one. He also explained that the Soviet authorities didn’t only forbid reading these books, but also, it wasn’t allowed to keep them at home. It was dangerous to discuss politics, dangerous to tell jokes. Everything was dangerous.

Boris Peker was released after Stalin died [1953]. He visited us, and I remember my parents asking him what the charges against him were. He replied that at interrogations he was asked whether he was acquainted with a rabbi. I don’t remember the name of the rabbi. His interrogators also asked Boris whether he was involved in the activities of an anti-Soviet society, and whether this society had relationships with any foreign organizations. Boris said that these questions made him laugh, and this reaction must have clearly indicated that he wasn’t involved in any such activities. However, he was kept in jail for quite a while. This had an impact on his health condition. He used to be a strong man before he was arrested, but after he was released he suffered from severe hypertension for the rest of his life.

The period of the Doctors’ Plot 30 was also rather disturbing. It didn’t affect our family, but there was the feeling of growing anti-Semitism. Mama’s cousin was a children’s otolaryngologist. Once she told me that some parents refused to show their children to her, and when she asked them about the reason, they explained that Jewish doctors were writing out wrong prescriptions on purpose. This was stupid, but my aunt was very much upset. My parents had nothing to do with medicine, but they were very unhappy about what was going on.

I studied in a Soviet school where I became a pioneer 31 and joined the Komsomol 32. For me Stalin was an idol like for many other Soviet children. I took seriously everything the newspapers wrote about Stalin: ‘Friend, teacher and chief…’ I believed this was true. Stalin was an integral part of our life. There were his portraits everywhere, posters with Stalin’s quotations. He was everywhere, and had a total presence in our lives.

After finishing school I passed entrance exams to the Faculty of Natural Science and Chemistry of the Riga Teachers’ Training College. I was worried about my results since Jews were not quite welcome at higher educational institutions at the time, but I passed my exams successfully and was admitted to college. A few of my co-students were also Jewish. Our lecturers didn’t make any distinctions between their students. Their attitude toward us was objective. There were a few students, who didn’t conceal their bad attitude towards the Jewish people. This was undoubtedly the influence of their families and family education. They were Latvian students and some were newcomers from the USSR. However, the common attitude toward us wasn’t bad.

In March 1953 Stalin died. This happened when I was already a student. We were told to gather in the conference hall for the mourning meeting. I was sobbing and so were other students and lecturers. It was a tragedy for me. I sincerely didn’t know how we were going to live on without our wise chief. At this time uncle Solomon from Moscow was visiting us, and I kept saying, ‘What’s going to happen? How are we going to live on without Stalin? Who will rule the country? My uncle tried to comfort me, but it was a waste of effort. The world seemed to have collapsed and be lying in ruins.

After the Twentieth Communist Party Congress 33, where Khrushchev 34 spoke about Stalin’s crimes, the world collapsed for the second time. I believed Khrushchev, since everything he talked about had happened before our eyes. It was just like a veil had been cast on our eyes and we couldn’t shake it off. We didn’t dare to compare the facts and think about this. However, this was the biggest disappointment I had in my life, the disappointment in the idol.

Upon my graduation I received a job assignment 35 to the general education school of the Marta collective farm near Riga. This area belongs to Riga now. I lived at home and took a bus to work. I worked as a teacher of natural science and chemistry for a year before I was offered a job in Riga. I worked in this school till I retired. I wouldn’t say that everybody treated me well. People are different. However, I faced no anti-Semitism at work.

I got married in 1957. I met my future husband Aron Golbreich through his aunt, who was Mama’s friend. Mama had met her before the war. Aron was born in the town of Beshenkovichi, Vitebsk region, Belarus, in 1921. It was a Jewish town, one of many in Belarus. Aron’s father’s name was Solomon, and his mother’s name was Hena. The family had four children, and Aron was the youngest. I didn’t know the others. Aron had finished school before the war. He was going to continue his studies at college. Aron and his brothers were recruited to the army. Aron was the only survivor. His parents perished, when Fascists occupied Beshenkovichi.

Aron’s only relative, his aunt, lived in Riga with her family. She was a dentist. She convinced Aron to move to Riga. He graduated from the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics of the Riga Teachers’ Training College and worked as a teacher of physics and mathematics at school. His aunt suggested to my mother that they introduce him to me. She told Mama he was a nice guy. Mama asked my consent, and I said I didn’t mind. Why not? I liked Aron, and I think Aron liked me as well. We started seeing each other and some time later he proposed to me.

We had a common wedding. Jewish weddings were not popular at the time. It’s different nowadays. When Latvia became independent 36, Jewish traditions were restored, and nowadays there are many Jewish weddings arranged. It was different at our time. Besides, Aron was a party member. He joined the Party in the army at the front, and he couldn’t have had a Jewish wedding even if he had wanted to.

In 1958 our only son Alexandr was born. My husband wanted to give him the name of Solomon after his deceased father, and call him Sasha affectionately. I was against it. Giving him the name of Solomon in those years meant destining him to continuous teasing by Russian and Latvian children. So, I said that if we were going to call him Sasha then why didn’t we give him the name of Alexandr? So we did.

Our family was no different from many other families. My husband and I went to work. Our son went to school. The job of a school teacher takes much time and effort, and we spent less time with our son than we wanted to. Our son took a liking to reading. Perhaps, it helped him to compensate for the lack of his parents’ attention. When my parents retired, they could spend more time with Alexandr, and he liked visiting them. We spent summer vacations at the Riga seaside. We also liked traveling across the USSR. Sometimes we visited my relatives in Moscow. My grandfather died in the late 1950s. My uncle Solomon and his family always gave us a warm welcome.

Alexandr was good at mathematics and exact sciences. He had the highest grades in these subjects at school. Our son studied well. He took part in various Olympiads in mathematics and physics, and was awarded prizes. Before finishing school, Alexandr knew where he wanted to continue his education. He entered the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics of Riga University. This happened during the period of Brezhnev’s rule 37, a hard period for Jewish people, when anti-Semitism was demonstrated at the state level and the authorities took no efforts to conceal it even for decency purposes. Perhaps, my son’s numerous diplomas he had been awarded at the Olympiads helped him to avoid entrance problems, at any rate he successfully passed his exams and was admitted to Riga University. As a student, our son was also involved in scientific activities.

Upon graduation from university our son was issued a job assignment to the Institute of Organic Synthesis in Riga. He was a scientific worker [research fellow]. Later he wrote and defended a candidate’s thesis 38. In Soviet times scientific work was funded by the state, and this funding was sufficient. My son had good perspectives at work. He had authority and was involved in a number of scientific developments.

After the breakup of the Soviet Union [in 1991] Latvia became independent, and it no longer focused on scientific developments. Scientists were underpaid, and often their salaries were delayed. The funding of new developments was terminated, there were no budget allocations for the necessary equipment. Many scientists, including Alexandr, started looking for jobs abroad. Alexandr worked in Germany for six months, and six months in France before he moved to America in 2000. He promptly adjusted to life in America and found a job that he likes. He lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. He calls me two to three times a week. We have long conversations. My son tells me what happens in his life and asks me how I am. Alexandr is a very caring and loving son. Unfortunately, he has no family of his own.

In the 1970s large numbers of Jews were moving to Israel. This was actually the only possibility for the Soviet Union to move to another country. Many of our friends and acquaintances left at that time. We knew they were leaving to have their children grow up free people, having their rights respected, to never know the feeling of being treated as people of the second or third rate. These people were moving to their historic Motherland. This was a brave move on their part. We knew it, but we did not dare to make this move. We supported those who were leaving. Things were not easy for them. Authorities took every step and effort to make their life complicated.

We corresponded with our friends in Israel and were happy for their successes. None of them regretted taking this decision. We were probably very inert. It was difficult to take this decision and to make this decisive step in life. Besides, my parents were old and suffered from hot weather. I couldn’t leave them, or take them with us where they would suffer from the hot climate, and I would be to blame for their suffering and would be able to do nothing about it. So we stayed.

However, we never lost interest in watching news from Israel. During the Six-Day-War 39 and the Judgment Day War 40, we watched the course of military actions and were worried about Israel. We were on the side of Israel, and felt happy about its military successes. The official Soviet mass media deployed a wide-range anti-Israeli campaign calling Israel an aggressor and invader. The bigger Israel’s victories were, the stronger the hysteria was.

There were other sources of information besides Soviet radio programs. We listened to the Voice of America 41 and other Western radio stations. This was not appreciated, but there was hardly one Jewish family that didn’t listen to these radio broadcasts. To eliminate interferences, my father adjusted the circuit in the radio and the broadcasting quality improved

I wish I had visited Israel and seen this beautiful country. However, this dream was not to come true. It was impossible to travel before perestroika 42, and later, when it became possible, we didn’t have enough money. Besides, I wasn’t that healthy. 

I was enthusiastic about perestroika at first. I had a hope that these promises of a better life would not remain mere promises and that life would change. There was finally some freedom of speech, and people were no longer afraid of the all-powerful KGB 43. There was freedom of the press, and people didn’t have to listen to foreign radio stations any longer. Our newspapers published everything one would want to read about.

Also, people were allowed to travel and no longer needed the approval of district party committees, correspond with their friends and relatives living in other countries and invite them to visit us. People resumed their freedom of religion. There was no longer a ban on religion, and people had the freedom of choice. For those, who were born in Latvia and remembered life in Latvia before it was annexed to the USSR, this was a return to normal life, though for those who were born in the USSR and never knew a different life this was something new and different.

These changes brought optimism and faith in the future. It’s a pity the outcome was different from what we expected. Our standards of living were impetuously dropping, prices of necessary food products and goods were growing dramatically and the shelves in stores were empty. Many people were complaining about life. This finally resulted in the breakup of the Soviet Union. Perhaps, this was historically justified and inevitable, but I wish this country still existed. It was a powerful state that could resist any aggression while now our countries are small and isolated and are unable to defend themselves.

Life in the free Latvian republic

It goes without saying that I didn’t like everything about the Soviet Union. Our rights and freedoms only existed on paper. They were stated in the Constitution, but we could never enjoy them in real life. However, the ideas were good. If the Soviet Union had followed the Constitution, the basic law in any country, rather than the guidelines of the Communist Party, our life would have been very different. I think, they should have preserved that great and powerful state and changed whatever impeded our life. It would have been good.

During perestroika the Jewish life in Latvia began to revive. In 1988 the Jewish cultural society was officially registered. In recent years it has significantly grown and strengthened. Jews finally felt themselves to be Jewish. My husband Aron returned to Jewish life. He read many books about the history of the Jewish people and their religion. Aron knew Hebrew in his childhood. He restored his knowledge to read the Torah and prayers. Aron went to the synagogue on Sabbath, and on Jewish holidays he and I went to the synagogue together.

We observed Jewish traditions at home. On Friday evening I lit candles and prayed over them. On Saturday my husband went to the synagogue. I stayed at home, but I did no work at home. I left whatever chores I had for Sunday. On Saturday my husband and I read aloud and visited our friends or went for a walk. We celebrated Pesach, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Chanukkah and Sukkot, the biggest Jewish holidays, at home. We just couldn’t follow all traditions strictly, but we did our best.

Mama died in 1987. We buried her at the Jewish cemetery in Riga. However, we didn’t arrange a Jewish funeral. In 1993 we buried my father beside Mama’s grave. My husband died in 2004. His funeral was a traditional Jewish one. This was my husband’s wish, and I followed it.

In 1991 Latvia became independent. I think there are positive and negative factors in it. Let me start with the negative ones. During the Soviet rule, pensions were sufficient to cover all the necessary expenses. We could pay our bills and buy sufficient food. Even small pensions were sufficient to live on them and save some money for summer vacations, clothes and medications, while current pensions are hardly enough to cover utility costs. It’s impossible to live on the remaining amount.

Jews are fortunate to have the Jewish community covering some of their expenses. It delivers food packages. Poor people are provided meals in the community on Saturday. The community provides necessary medications, covers some utility expenses, particularly heating costs during the cold season. I can’t imagine how I would manage, if it were not for the community. It’s not only about all the provisions. We have the community, the place where we can come and feel at home. This is very important for all people, but it has a particular significance for older and lonely people. I met many friends in the community, and it helps me to bear my loneliness after my husband died.

We celebrate Jewish holidays and birthdays in the community. Knowing that someone is thinking about you is very important. Newspapers and magazines are too expensive for many of us, and the community provides these. Our community does much to keep the memory of all Jews, who perished in Latvia during the Holocaust. There were gravestones installed at the locations of mass shootings of victims of Fascism, and also, there is an on-going search of such locations.

Anti-Semitism still exists, even with independence in Latvia. I face it every now and then. However, the most important thing is that there is no governmental anti-Semitism. Routinely anti-Semitism can be managed. Our community takes an active part in it. The facts of expressions of anti-Semitism become known and talked about, and this means that the community protects us.

There are two choirs in our Jewish community. One is Shofar, and the second one is Rahamim. The Shofar members are younger, and Rahamim is attended by older people like me. I joined the choir in 1994. Since then the choir has become a part of my life. We sing Jewish songs in Yiddish and Hebrew. Only few singers know the languages, and the others, like me, just learn the words off by heart. All members of the choir are fond of Jewish music and Jewish songs, and this common activity has made us friends. Our choir is one big family. We need each other and we care about one another.

The Rahamim social center, with Hana Finkelstein at its head, provides significant assistance to our choir. We have a room for rehearsals, and the center also took care of costumes for our concerts. We sing in the community, and our choir is also welcomed at the Jewish communities in other Latvian towns. We tour the country, and always many people come to listen to our songs. We sing for them, and we know that they need our songs. When I sing, I see the enlightened expressions in the audience. I know that what we do is very important. This gives me additional strength.

Glossary:

1 Latvian Society of Jewish Culture (LSJC)

formed in autumn 1988 under the leadership of Esphiк Rapin, an activist of culture of Latvia, who was director of the Latvian Philharmonic at the time.  Currently LSJC is a non-religious Jewish community of Latvia. The Society’s objectives are as follows: restoration of the Jewish national self-consciousness, culture and traditions. Similar societies have been formed in other Latvian towns. Originally, the objective of the LSJC was the establishment of a Jewish school, which was opened in 1989. Now there is a Kinnor, the children’s choral ensemble, a theatrical studio, a children’s art studio and Hebrew courses at the society. There is a library with a large collection of books. The youth organization Itush Zion, sports organization Maccabi, charity association Rahamim, the Memorial Group, installing monuments in locations of the Jewish Holocaust tragedy, and the association of war veterans and former ghetto prisoners work under the auspice of the Society. There is a museum and document center ‘Jews in Latvia’ in the LSJC. The VEK (Herald of Jewish Culture) magazine (the only Jewish magazine in the former Soviet Union), about 50,000 issues, is published in the LSJC.

2 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.

3 Jewish hospital Bikkur Holim

established by the community with the same name. It existed in Riga since the late 19th century. In 1924 Ulrich Millman and the Joint funded construction of a hospital where they provided assistance to all needy besides Jews. The hospital consisted of 3 departments: therapeutic, surgery and neurology. Director of the hospital was Isaac Joffe, director of Riga’s health department in the early 1920s. Doctor Vladimir Minz, one of the most outstanding surgeons, was head of surgery. He was the first surgeon in Latvia to operate on the heart and brain, and do psychosurgery. Fascists destroyed the hospital, its patients and personnel in summer 1941. Doctor Joffe perished in the Riga ghetto in 1941, Professor Minz perished in Buchenwald camp in February 1945.

4 Odessa

The Jewish community of Odessa was the second biggest Jewish community in Russia. According to the census of 1897 there were 138,935 Jews in Odessa, which was 34,41 percent of the local population. There were seven big synagogues and 49 prayer houses in Odessa. There were cheders in 19 prayer houses.

5 Five percent quota

In tsarist Russia the number of Jews in higher educational institutions could not exceed five percent  of the total number of students.

6 Latvian independence

The end of the 19th century was marked by a rise of the national consciousness and the start of national movement in Latvia, that was a part of the Russian Empire. It was particularly strong during the first Russian revolution in 1905-07. After the fall of the Russian monarchy in February 1917 the Latvian representatives conveyed their demand to grant Latvia the status of autonomy to the Russian Duma. During World War I, in late 1918 the major part of Latvia, including Riga, was taken by the German army. However, Germany, having lost the war, could not leave these lands in its ownership, while the winning countries were not willing to let these countries be annexed to the Soviet Russia.  The current international situation gave Latvia a chance to gain its own statehood. From 1917 Latvian nationalists secretly plot against the Germans. When Germany surrenders on November 11th, they seize their chance and declare Latvia's independence at the National Theatre on 18th November 1918. Under the Treaty of Riga, Russia promises to respect Latvia's independence for all time. Latvia's independence is recognized by the international community on 26th January 1921, and nine months later Latvia is admitted into the League of Nations. The independence of Latvia was recognized de jure. The Latvian Republic remained independent until the Soviet occupation in 1940.

7 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 a concentration camp or even sentence them to death.

8 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.

9 Invasion of Poland

The German attack on Poland on 1st September 1939 is widely considered in the West to be the date of 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.

10 Annexation of Latvia to the USSR

upon execution of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact on 2nd October 1939 the USSR demanded that Latvia transferred military harbors, air fields and other military infrastructure to the needs of the Red Army within 3 days. Also, the Soviet leadership assured Latvia that it was no interference with the country’s internal affairs but that they were just taking preventive measures to ensure that this territory was not used against the USSR. On 5th October the Treaty on Mutual Assistance was signed between Latvia and the USSR. The military contingent exceeding by size and power the Latvian National army entered Latvia. On 16th June 1940 the USSR declared another ultimatum to Latvia. The main requirement was retirement of the ‘government hostile to the Soviet Union’ and formation of the new government under supervision of representatives of the USSR.  President K. Ulmanis accepted all items of the ultimatum and addressed the nation to stay calm. On 17 June 1940 new divisions of the Soviet military entered Latvia with no resistance. On 21st June 1940 the new government, friendly to the USSR, was formed mostly from the Communists released from prisons. On 14-15th July elections took place in Latvia. Its results were largely manipulated by the new country's leadership and Communists won. On 5th August 1940 the newly elected Supreme Soviet addressed the Supreme Soviet of the USSR requesting to annex Latvia to the USSR, which was done.

11 Soviet Army

The armed forces of the Soviet Union, originally called Red Army and renamed Soviet Army in February 1946. After the Bolsheviks came to power, in November 1917, they commenced to organize the squads of worker’s army, called Red Guards, where workers and peasants were recruited on voluntary basis. The commanders were either selected from among the former tsarist officers and soldiers or appointed directly by the Military and Revolutionary Committy of the Communist Party. In early 1918 the Bolshevik government issued a decree on the establishment of the Workers‘ and Peasants‘ Red Army and mandatory drafting was introduced for men between 18 and 40. In 1918 the total number of draftees was 100 thousand officers and 1.2 million soldiers. Military schools and academies training the officers were restored. In 1925 the law on compulsory military service was adopted and annual drafting was established. The term of service was established as follows: for the Red Guards- two years, for junior officers of aviation and fleet- three years, for medium and senior officers- 25 years. People of exploiter classes (former noblemen, merchants, officers of the tsarist army, priest, factory owner, etc. and their children) as well as kulaks (rich peasants) and Cossacks were not drafted in the army. The law as of 1939 cancelled restriction on drafting of men belonging to certain classes, students were not drafted but went through military training in their educational institutions. On the 22nd June 1941 Great Patriotic War was unleashed and the drafting in the army became compulsory for all. First, in June-July 1941 general and complete mobilization of men was carried out as well as partial mobilization of women. Then annual drafting of men, who turned 18, was commenced. When WWII was over, the Red Army amounted to over eleven million people and the demobilization process commenced. By the beginning of 1948 the Soviet Army had been downsized to 2 million 874 thousand people. The youth of drafting age were sent to the restoration works in mines, heavy industrial enterprises, and construction sites. In 1949 a new law on general military duty was adopted, according to which service term in ground troops and aviation was three years and in navy- four years. Young people with secondary education, both civilian and military, with the age range of 17-23 were admitted in military schools for officers. In 1968 the term of the army service was contracted to two years in ground troops and in the navy to three years. That system of army recruitment remained without considerable changes until the breakup of the Soviet Army (1991-93).

12 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 somewhat improved.

13 Deportations from the Baltics (1940-1953)

After the Soviet Union occupied the three Baltic states (Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania) in June 1940 as a part of establishing the Soviet system, mass deportation of the local population began. The victims of these were mainly but not exclusively those unwanted by the regime: the local bourgeoisie and the previously politically active strata. Deportations to remote parts of the Soviet Union continued up until the death of Stalin. The first major wave of deportation took place between 11th and 14th June 1941, when 36,000, mostly politically active people were deported. Deportations were reintroduced after the Soviet Army recaptured the three countries from Nazi Germany in 1944. Partisan fights against the Soviet occupiers were going on all up to 1956, when the last squad was eliminated. Between June 1948 and January 1950, in accordance with a Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Council of the USSR 52,541 people from Latvia, 118,599 from Lithuania and 32,450 from Estonia were deported under the pretext of ‘grossly dodged from labor activity in the agricultural field and led anti-social and parasitic mode of life’. The total number of deportees from the three republics amounted to 203,590. Among them were entire Latvian families of different social strata (peasants, workers, intelligentsia), everybody who was able to reject or deemed capable of rejecting the regime. Most of the exiled died in the foreign land. Besides, about 100,000 people were killed in action and in fusillade for being members of partisan squads and some other 100,000 were sentenced to 25 years in the camps.

14 Enemy of the people

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

15 Great Patriotic War

On 22nd June 1941 at five 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.

17 Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact

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

18 Riga ghetto

established on 23rd August 1941. Located in the suburb of Riga populated by poor Jews. About 13 000 people resided here before the occupation, and about 30 000 inmates were kept in the ghetto. On 31st November and 8th December 1941 most inmates were killed in the Rumbula forest. On 31st October 15 000 inmates were shot, on 8th December 10 000 inmates were killed. Only younger men were kept alive to do hard work. After the bigger part of the ghetto population was exterminated, a smaller ghetto was established in December 1941. The majority of inmates of this ‘smaller ghetto’ were Jews, brought from the Reich and Western Europe. On 2nd November 1943 the ghetto was closed. The survivors were taken to nearby concentration camps. In 1944 the remaining Jews were taken to Germany, where few of them survived till the end of the war.

18 Rumbula forest

the location where Latvian Jews, inmates of the Riga ghetto and Soviet prisoners-of-war were shot is in the woods near the Rumbula railway station. At the time this was the 12th kilometer of the highway from Riga to Daugavpils. The drawings of common graves were developed.  There was a ramp made by each grave for prisoners to step into the grave. Soviet prisoners-of-war were forced to dig the graves to be also killed after performing their task. The total number of those killed in Rumbula is unknown. The most accurate might be the numbers given in the report of the police commander of Latvia, who personally commanded the actions in Rumbula. He indicated 27 800 victims in Rumbula, including 942 from the first transport of foreign Jews from Berlin, executed in Rumbula on the dawn of 30th November 1941, before execution of the Riga ghetto inmates. To hide the traces of their crimes, special units of SS Sonderkommando 1005 opened the graves and burned the remains of victims in spring and summer 1944. They also crushed burnt bones with bone crushing machines. This work was done by Soviet prisoners-of-war and Jews, who were also to be executed. In the 1960s local activists, despite counteraction of authorities, made arrangements in place of the Rumbula burial. They installed a memorial gravestone with the words ‘To the victims of Fascism’ engraved in Latvian, Russian and Yiddish.
19 Latvian division: Latvian rifle division 201 was formed in August/September 1941. The formation started in the Gorohovetski camps in the vicinity of Gorky (present Nizhniy Novgorod), where most of evacuated Latvians were located. On 12th September 1941 the division soldiers took an oath. By early December 1941 the division consisted of 10,348 people, about 30 percent of them were Jews. 90 percent of the division commanders and officers were Latvian citizens. In early December 1941 units of the Latvian division were taken to the front. From 20th December 1941 till 14th January 1942, during the Soviet counterattack near Moscow the division took part in severe battles near Naro-Fominsk and Borovsk. The casualties constituted 55 percent of the staff, including 58 percent privates, 30 percent junior commanding officers. Total casualties constituted about 5700 people, including about 1060 Jews.

20 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.

21 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.

22 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.

23 Residence permit

The Soviet authorities restricted freedom of travel within the USSR through the system of residence permits 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 eight square meters to themselves.

24 The Kaiserwald concentration camp

Kaiserwald was an old German name of the Mezapark area of Riga. In summer 1943 Himmler ordered to eliminate all camps in the east, exterminate all inmates who were unable to work, and take the rest to another concentration camp. In summer 1943 prisoners from Polish concentration camps started building the camps. The 'Riga-Kaiserwald' had 29 'Ausenlagers'; the sorting out took place in the central camp. The male inmates who were able to work were sent to clear fields from mines. In August and September 1944, when the Soviet armies advanced to the Baltic countries, some inmates were sent to the Studhoff camp near Gdansk, and about 400 inmates were sent to Auschwitz. The rest were executed on 2nd October 1944 during elimination of the camp. From Studhoff the inmates were taken to various camps.  The ally armies rescued them from extermination. At the most 1 000 Latvian Jews taken to Germany lived till liberation. The total of 18,000 Jews were exterminated in Kaiserwald during the Great Patriotic War.

25 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 Protestant and Roman Catholic priests disappeared behind KGB walls.

26 October Revolution Day

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

27 Victory Day in Russia (9th May)

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

28 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. ‘Cosmopolitan’ 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’.

29 NKVD

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

30 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.

31 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.

32 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, it could accept uninitiated young proletarians, whereas party members had to have at least a minimal political qualification.

33 Twentieth Party Congress

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

34 Khrushchev, Nikita (1894-1971)

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

35 Mandatory job assignment in the USSR

Graduates of higher educational institutions had to complete a mandatory two-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.

36 Reestablishment of the Latvian Republic

On 4th May 1990 the Supreme Soviet of the Latvian Soviet Republic accepted the declaration, in which it was informed of the desire to restore independence of Latvia, and the transition period to restoration of full independence as then  declared. The Soviet leadership in Moscow refused to acknowledge the independence of Latvia and initiated an economic blockade on the country. At the referendum held on 3rd March1991, over 90 percent of the participants voted for independence. On 21st August 1991 the parliament took a decision on complete restoration of the prewar statehood of Latvia. The western world finally recognized Latvian independence and so did the USSR on 24th August 1991. In September 1991 Latvia joined the United Nations. Through the years of independence Latvia has implemented deep economic reforms, introduced its own currency (Lat) in 1993, completed privatization and restituted the property to its former owners. Economic growth constitutes five-seven percent per year. Also, it’s taken the course of escaping the influence of Russia and integration into European structures. In February 1993 Latvia introduced the visa procedure with Russia, and in 1995 the last units of the Russian army left the country. Since 2004 Latvia has been a member of NATO and the European Union.

37 Brezhnev, Leonid, Ilyich (1906–82)

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 a 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.

38 Soviet/Russian doctorate degrees

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

39 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.

40 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.

41 Voice of America

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

42 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

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

43 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.
 
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