After primary school I attended a Romanian high school called Mihail Kogălniceanu for two years. I was a very good student and in primary school I even got awarded a prize. Even though I wasn’t hard-working I was clever and quick to learn.
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Rosa Kaiserman
Even though the Jewish school was located nearby, my mother signed me up for a Romanian school, saying that we were living in Romania and I should learn Romanian.
The school was called Petru Răşcanu, and it was very close to our home. In this primary school the Jewish pupils had a separate teacher, who would come and teach Jewish Religion.
The school was called Petru Răşcanu, and it was very close to our home. In this primary school the Jewish pupils had a separate teacher, who would come and teach Jewish Religion.
At home we, the children, would talk Romanian and our parents Yiddish. They wouldn’t let us speak Yiddish, in order to learn to speak correctly Romanian. Even though the Jewish school was located nearby, my mother signed me up for a Romanian school, saying that we were living in Romania and I should learn Romanian.
There were many Jewish schools in Iassy, in almost each neighborhood, some of them even near our home. Only during the war, when we were kicked out of Romanian schools [7], the Jewish high school for boys and the one for girls were founded.
Romania
When we were little children we went every summer to Iacobeni, a commune near Vatra Dornei. [Iacobeni is situated at 19km north of Vatra Dornei.] We went there and wherever we could find a free place, we rented a room. Because of my brother and sister, who were tender and needed fresh mountain air, we went almost every summer.
Iacobeni was a very nice place: the Bistrita river, the mountains, the fresh air, the mountain flowers – it was very beautiful. Local people were stock raisers, or they rented rooms – these were their main activities. Some of them also sculpted wood cut from the forest.
They cut with a little knife different models on fir tree branches. They even taught us to make those engravings. There were woodhouses near the Bistrita river, and the train drove us high on the mountains overlooking the valley.
My dad couldn’t come with us on these excursions because of his shop keeping. Mom would go with us, and dad would come visit once a week. Knowing the time of my father’s arrival – usually on Sunday – we would eye the train in the distance.
We had relatives, much older than mom and well-off, who went to Dorna [Vatra Dornei]. We would take a carriage and drive from Iacobeni to Dorna, to visitour relatives – Iacobeni was a small resort and it got at times boring. It isn’t a resort anymore. On that time there were some baths there too, but we went there primarily for the air. Every summer till 1933. Then hard times followed, and we had financial problems. But in my childhood we were doing well.
Iacobeni was a very nice place: the Bistrita river, the mountains, the fresh air, the mountain flowers – it was very beautiful. Local people were stock raisers, or they rented rooms – these were their main activities. Some of them also sculpted wood cut from the forest.
They cut with a little knife different models on fir tree branches. They even taught us to make those engravings. There were woodhouses near the Bistrita river, and the train drove us high on the mountains overlooking the valley.
My dad couldn’t come with us on these excursions because of his shop keeping. Mom would go with us, and dad would come visit once a week. Knowing the time of my father’s arrival – usually on Sunday – we would eye the train in the distance.
We had relatives, much older than mom and well-off, who went to Dorna [Vatra Dornei]. We would take a carriage and drive from Iacobeni to Dorna, to visitour relatives – Iacobeni was a small resort and it got at times boring. It isn’t a resort anymore. On that time there were some baths there too, but we went there primarily for the air. Every summer till 1933. Then hard times followed, and we had financial problems. But in my childhood we were doing well.
All children on the Stephen the Great streetattended the same school and they were all friends. The boys from school would come and play with my brother. One of them told him: “You know, when I’ll grow older, I’ll marry your sister.”
This guy – his first name was Zalman, I can’t remember his family name – was killed by the Iron Guard [2]. He and his family moved to Galati; he was by then ten years old. We didn’t keep in touch anymore – we were children, we had a lot of friends around, so we forgot.
But I found out later that he was assassinated – my brother was 17/18 years old [in 1941-42], and his friend might have beenthe same age. Why? He was arrested because he participated in the Zionist society in Galati. He was transferred from a prison to another and got killed on the way. We found out about it just indirectly. But there is a museum in Bucharest, in one of the synagogues in Bucharest I once visited.
[Ms. Kaiserman probably refers to the Great Synagogue of Bucharest, from 1980 a museum hosting the exhibition entitled ’The Memorial of Jewish Martyrsof Romania’. – Editor’s note] That is why I know that he was killed; he passed for a fugitive, so he got killed. I read it in the newspaper at the Jewish Museum in Bucharest.
This guy – his first name was Zalman, I can’t remember his family name – was killed by the Iron Guard [2]. He and his family moved to Galati; he was by then ten years old. We didn’t keep in touch anymore – we were children, we had a lot of friends around, so we forgot.
But I found out later that he was assassinated – my brother was 17/18 years old [in 1941-42], and his friend might have beenthe same age. Why? He was arrested because he participated in the Zionist society in Galati. He was transferred from a prison to another and got killed on the way. We found out about it just indirectly. But there is a museum in Bucharest, in one of the synagogues in Bucharest I once visited.
[Ms. Kaiserman probably refers to the Great Synagogue of Bucharest, from 1980 a museum hosting the exhibition entitled ’The Memorial of Jewish Martyrsof Romania’. – Editor’s note] That is why I know that he was killed; he passed for a fugitive, so he got killed. I read it in the newspaper at the Jewish Museum in Bucharest.
On my birthday,children were invited over, sweets and fruits were served, they ate and played. As birthday gift you could get on that time a flower, a book, nothing big. I remember my father vividly… he loved mea lot. He would buy me a present early – a toy, a game, something – and then hide it on the cupboard, so that I couldn’t get there.
On my birthday he would take it from there and bring it to me. I got games like: Loto, domino. Not games like chess, they were children’s games. We would play then together. Loto can be played by four. Everyone had a cardboard with random numbers written on it.
In a bag were the numbers – I think 70 or 80 numbers. Numbers would be picked in turn from the bag and the one who had it on his cardboard would take it. For example someone would take number two from the bag. The one who had it on his cardboard would say: “Give it to me, because I have the two.” And the one who completed the first his cardboard was the winner of the game. That was Loto.
On my birthday he would take it from there and bring it to me. I got games like: Loto, domino. Not games like chess, they were children’s games. We would play then together. Loto can be played by four. Everyone had a cardboard with random numbers written on it.
In a bag were the numbers – I think 70 or 80 numbers. Numbers would be picked in turn from the bag and the one who had it on his cardboard would take it. For example someone would take number two from the bag. The one who had it on his cardboard would say: “Give it to me, because I have the two.” And the one who completed the first his cardboard was the winner of the game. That was Loto.
From three to seven years I attended the Jewish kindergarten. It was called Gan Ailadin. I remember just one thing about that time. We used to get crayons for our drawings. And I would sit near my brother on a little desk. He drew once something extraordinary. I asked him what it was he had drawn and he told it was a well. My other sister went to another neighborhood kindergarten, to Trei Ierarhi.
In his youth, dad used to go to a synagogue called the Tailor’s Synagogue, because of his father, who was a tailor and who went there. When the synagogue was destroyed [3], the number of the Jews shrunk, and all other synagogues were destroyed, he went on the Kahane synagogue on the Stefan cel Mare Street.
This was the only synagogue which remained safe for several years. It was pretty big, with a large yard. They used to organize there the weddings. Eventually this synagogue was destroyed too and they built apartment houses in its place.
This was the only synagogue which remained safe for several years. It was pretty big, with a large yard. They used to organize there the weddings. Eventually this synagogue was destroyed too and they built apartment houses in its place.
My father liked to observe all these customs and all the prayers. He used to wake up at 5 o’clock in the morning, he washed his hands, his face until half past five. He didn’t drink anything. Then he went to the synagogue. He arrived there at 6 or 7 o’clock. Every day.
Then he came home and had a warm tea. Be it summer or winter. He went to pray even in the evening. People used to go to work during daytime, but he managed somehow even during the Ceausescu era [6] to go on Saturdays to the synagogue instead of going to work.
Afterward, when he remained home alone – my mom had died by then – he used to sit on a chair on the terrace we had in our apartment on the Saint Sava street and read all day long in the prayer book. And he couldn’teven see that wellanymore. I think he knew the prayers by heart, but he skimmed the book anyway.
In an autumn, after my father paralyzed, Morica, a friend of mine and once my Hebrew teacher came along and I asked him: “Pay attention, what is my dad saying? Does he tell it right? Because he tells things by heart in Hebrew.” After the brain congestion these things still remained in his memory.
In his youth, dad used to go to a synagogue called the Tailor’s Synagogue, because of his father, who was a tailor and who went there. When the synagogue was destroyed [3], the number of the Jews shrunk, and all other synagogues were destroyed, he went on the Kahane synagogue on the Stefan cel Mare Street.
This was the only synagogue which remained safe for several years. It was pretty big, with a large yard. They used to organize there the weddings. Eventually this synagogue was destroyed too and they built apartment houses in its place.
My father went to the synagogue till he was 93 years old, barely seeing and almost deaf… I convinced him not to go anymore in the mornings, for it was cold and rainy, and in the evenings I used to walk him to the synagogue and then back home.
Then he came home and had a warm tea. Be it summer or winter. He went to pray even in the evening. People used to go to work during daytime, but he managed somehow even during the Ceausescu era [6] to go on Saturdays to the synagogue instead of going to work.
Afterward, when he remained home alone – my mom had died by then – he used to sit on a chair on the terrace we had in our apartment on the Saint Sava street and read all day long in the prayer book. And he couldn’teven see that wellanymore. I think he knew the prayers by heart, but he skimmed the book anyway.
In an autumn, after my father paralyzed, Morica, a friend of mine and once my Hebrew teacher came along and I asked him: “Pay attention, what is my dad saying? Does he tell it right? Because he tells things by heart in Hebrew.” After the brain congestion these things still remained in his memory.
In his youth, dad used to go to a synagogue called the Tailor’s Synagogue, because of his father, who was a tailor and who went there. When the synagogue was destroyed [3], the number of the Jews shrunk, and all other synagogues were destroyed, he went on the Kahane synagogue on the Stefan cel Mare Street.
This was the only synagogue which remained safe for several years. It was pretty big, with a large yard. They used to organize there the weddings. Eventually this synagogue was destroyed too and they built apartment houses in its place.
My father went to the synagogue till he was 93 years old, barely seeing and almost deaf… I convinced him not to go anymore in the mornings, for it was cold and rainy, and in the evenings I used to walk him to the synagogue and then back home.
Romania
There is another custom, before Yom Kippur, when a bird is sacrificed. I remember it from my childhood. For the girls there was a single chicken, for my brother there was a cockerel, for my father a rooster and for mom a hen. The bird was rotated above the head – my dad did it for us – and a prayer was said.
Afterwards the birds were brought to the Chacham to be slaughtered. One bird was offered to a poor family, which didn’t have anything to eat for the holiday. I didn’t like this custom. I kept asking myself, what did that bird do wrong to be sacrificed for me? There was nobody around to rotate de birds after the death of my father. These customs slowly get lost.
Afterwards the birds were brought to the Chacham to be slaughtered. One bird was offered to a poor family, which didn’t have anything to eat for the holiday. I didn’t like this custom. I kept asking myself, what did that bird do wrong to be sacrificed for me? There was nobody around to rotate de birds after the death of my father. These customs slowly get lost.
The most important thing for Pessah was the big cleaning. Including the drapes. Radiating cleanliness. The drapes were washed with a special brush, and then ironed, in order to kill all viruses. The dishes were cleaned scrupulously. On Pessah we had special dishes and cutlery, which were deposited in the loft.
Actually they were normal dishes like the usual ones, but we used them only on Pessah. But before bringing them down, during the big cleaning the other dishes were cleaned. There was a special dresser for the Pessah dishes.
For example, you had things in the house, like in any other household, flour, noodles, rice – chametz for the whole year. They were listed on a sheet of paper, the list was brought to the synagogue, and somebody gave an approval to be able to keep them until after Pessah.
They were put in a place, where you weren’t allowed to use them. For the Pessah flour and for the matzos there was a separate place, kept untouched the whole year. But these things have been a tradition here, in Moldavia, in Poland, maybe in Bessarabia too. In Israel they don’t observe this tradition anymore.
There was also a ritual, which was for me rather amusing. So, you had to clean the house in such a waythat even the smallest bread crumble disappeared. You had to wash, to clean, to shake out everything. After that, a day before Pessah, my father used to go with a pieceofbread, and put in different places bread crumbles.
On the window sills, in as many places as possible, in order to sanctify the place. After that, he went with a goose feather, a wooden spoon, said a prayer and gathered these bread crumbles in the wooden spoon, then enwrappedthem with a piece of white cloth and tied it.
The second day he took it intothe yard, dug a hole and burnt the wooden spoon with the bread crumbles – which meant that he burnt the chametz, that is,all that was fermented. For example, if the first Seder was Friday, he put and gathered the bread crumbles Thursday evening, and Friday morning at 10 o’clock he would burn them.
If there was bread in the house until 10 o’clock, you were allowed to eat it, but not after 10 o’clock. And you weren’t allowed to eat matzos as well, until Seder night. That whole day long we ate only eggs and baked jacket potatoes.
Even the table cloth was different, it was not the usual one. We put a white unsized table cloth. In those times clothes were sized in order for a cloth to look smooth. You couldn’t wear the collars, the blouses and the skirts without sizing them. A boiled size was prepared from corn flour or wheat flour.
It was made in a large wash basin. The flour was put in first, then the boiling water was poured and mixed with a stick. The washed and rinsed clothing was put in there to stiffen the fabrics. These garments will look completely different when ironed. On Pesah the table cloth had to be an unsized one, that is without flour.
There was a lot of work to do. But I helped my mother every time through the years, and especially in her later years, when she got old and wasn’t able to do things as usual. I was so tired on Pesah evenings… because we had also guests for Seder, and there was a lot of dish washing to do afterwards…
The Seder evening is on Pesah’s eve. On this special event you aren’t allowed to eat bread; you eat only matzos. But the Seder dinner is an usual one: with fish, meat, soup, matzos, compote, fruits. There was also a nut pie. The cake wasn’t bad at all, and you are allowed to bake it not only on Pesah.
That’s how it’s made: from 10 eggs the egg-white is whipped with ten spoonfuls of sugar. The yolk is added afterwards. 12 spoonfuls of walnut and ¾ spoonfuls of matzos flour is mixed with this content.
A griddle is greased with oil and the content is poured into it. Because you weren’t allowed to use any milk I whipped some more egg-whites for the top decoration. Once I added to the whipped egg-whites an orange, lemon juice and lemon peel. The orange was red, but the cream was green. I don’t know how it could have happened. So without any milk, sour cream, or butter.
On Seder we recalled the exile of the Israelites out of slavery from Egypt led by Moses. The same story is told each year. My father told it in Yiddish. I understood Yiddish. The children would ask the four questions. First my brother. He was the youngest, but he was very proud because he could ask the question.
A separate glass of wine was for the angel, who would come and taste the wine. My mom was scared and used to ask me: “Rosa, please go and open the door!” I had to protect my mother; she was afraid to open the door, so I had to go and open it, keeping at the same time my eyes on the glass of wine to see if a drop would miss. Then my mother would move the table and say: “See, he came and drank”. Afterwards I closed the door.
Among the special Passover dishes there were some special small glasses for us, the children. My brother had a small cup. I had a small tin – I loved it a lot and kept it a long time, but eventually it broke too ; it was made of glass and had a handle. In that tin dad poured for me the wine.
The wine had to be kosher too, that is it had to be prepared in special receptacles by special people. During the war you couldn’t find wine even two weeks before Seder, so mom prepared it from raisins. Adding water and sugar the raisins would ferment. The result would be a good, strong, sweet, very good wine.
The usual matzos were put in afikoman. The afikoman was a peculiar table cloth in which a piece of bread was enwrapped. My dad did this with utmost seriousnessand then hid it. Dad wrapped it, hid it, we found it and he had to ransom it with a sum of money.
We were modest and didn’t ask for much money, but my father got infuriated, because he couldn’t gain any money on Pesah and argued with us to give him the afikoman without paying. But it was some sort of farce. After getting it back, he said a prayer, and divided the matzo among us.
At the end of the Seder we sang a song. But the children usually fall asleep until this part of the celebration. It was a sort of story: “And the lamb drunk the water, and the wolf ate the lamb, and the fire burned the wolf, and the water extinguished the fire…”. It sounded very nice and it had also a melody.
Actually they were normal dishes like the usual ones, but we used them only on Pessah. But before bringing them down, during the big cleaning the other dishes were cleaned. There was a special dresser for the Pessah dishes.
For example, you had things in the house, like in any other household, flour, noodles, rice – chametz for the whole year. They were listed on a sheet of paper, the list was brought to the synagogue, and somebody gave an approval to be able to keep them until after Pessah.
They were put in a place, where you weren’t allowed to use them. For the Pessah flour and for the matzos there was a separate place, kept untouched the whole year. But these things have been a tradition here, in Moldavia, in Poland, maybe in Bessarabia too. In Israel they don’t observe this tradition anymore.
There was also a ritual, which was for me rather amusing. So, you had to clean the house in such a waythat even the smallest bread crumble disappeared. You had to wash, to clean, to shake out everything. After that, a day before Pessah, my father used to go with a pieceofbread, and put in different places bread crumbles.
On the window sills, in as many places as possible, in order to sanctify the place. After that, he went with a goose feather, a wooden spoon, said a prayer and gathered these bread crumbles in the wooden spoon, then enwrappedthem with a piece of white cloth and tied it.
The second day he took it intothe yard, dug a hole and burnt the wooden spoon with the bread crumbles – which meant that he burnt the chametz, that is,all that was fermented. For example, if the first Seder was Friday, he put and gathered the bread crumbles Thursday evening, and Friday morning at 10 o’clock he would burn them.
If there was bread in the house until 10 o’clock, you were allowed to eat it, but not after 10 o’clock. And you weren’t allowed to eat matzos as well, until Seder night. That whole day long we ate only eggs and baked jacket potatoes.
Even the table cloth was different, it was not the usual one. We put a white unsized table cloth. In those times clothes were sized in order for a cloth to look smooth. You couldn’t wear the collars, the blouses and the skirts without sizing them. A boiled size was prepared from corn flour or wheat flour.
It was made in a large wash basin. The flour was put in first, then the boiling water was poured and mixed with a stick. The washed and rinsed clothing was put in there to stiffen the fabrics. These garments will look completely different when ironed. On Pesah the table cloth had to be an unsized one, that is without flour.
There was a lot of work to do. But I helped my mother every time through the years, and especially in her later years, when she got old and wasn’t able to do things as usual. I was so tired on Pesah evenings… because we had also guests for Seder, and there was a lot of dish washing to do afterwards…
The Seder evening is on Pesah’s eve. On this special event you aren’t allowed to eat bread; you eat only matzos. But the Seder dinner is an usual one: with fish, meat, soup, matzos, compote, fruits. There was also a nut pie. The cake wasn’t bad at all, and you are allowed to bake it not only on Pesah.
That’s how it’s made: from 10 eggs the egg-white is whipped with ten spoonfuls of sugar. The yolk is added afterwards. 12 spoonfuls of walnut and ¾ spoonfuls of matzos flour is mixed with this content.
A griddle is greased with oil and the content is poured into it. Because you weren’t allowed to use any milk I whipped some more egg-whites for the top decoration. Once I added to the whipped egg-whites an orange, lemon juice and lemon peel. The orange was red, but the cream was green. I don’t know how it could have happened. So without any milk, sour cream, or butter.
On Seder we recalled the exile of the Israelites out of slavery from Egypt led by Moses. The same story is told each year. My father told it in Yiddish. I understood Yiddish. The children would ask the four questions. First my brother. He was the youngest, but he was very proud because he could ask the question.
A separate glass of wine was for the angel, who would come and taste the wine. My mom was scared and used to ask me: “Rosa, please go and open the door!” I had to protect my mother; she was afraid to open the door, so I had to go and open it, keeping at the same time my eyes on the glass of wine to see if a drop would miss. Then my mother would move the table and say: “See, he came and drank”. Afterwards I closed the door.
Among the special Passover dishes there were some special small glasses for us, the children. My brother had a small cup. I had a small tin – I loved it a lot and kept it a long time, but eventually it broke too ; it was made of glass and had a handle. In that tin dad poured for me the wine.
The wine had to be kosher too, that is it had to be prepared in special receptacles by special people. During the war you couldn’t find wine even two weeks before Seder, so mom prepared it from raisins. Adding water and sugar the raisins would ferment. The result would be a good, strong, sweet, very good wine.
The usual matzos were put in afikoman. The afikoman was a peculiar table cloth in which a piece of bread was enwrapped. My dad did this with utmost seriousnessand then hid it. Dad wrapped it, hid it, we found it and he had to ransom it with a sum of money.
We were modest and didn’t ask for much money, but my father got infuriated, because he couldn’t gain any money on Pesah and argued with us to give him the afikoman without paying. But it was some sort of farce. After getting it back, he said a prayer, and divided the matzo among us.
At the end of the Seder we sang a song. But the children usually fall asleep until this part of the celebration. It was a sort of story: “And the lamb drunk the water, and the wolf ate the lamb, and the fire burned the wolf, and the water extinguished the fire…”. It sounded very nice and it had also a melody.
On Hanukkah candles are lit every evening, beginning with the eve of the holiday. We generally use white candles, not yellow ones – but on Hanukkah only yellow candles are lit. There is an eight arms candle holder, where the candles are put.
On the eve the first candle is lit, on the second day the second one, on the third the third one, on each evening one more. The candles are lit from another small candle, called Shamash.
My father used to light the first candle, said a prayer in Hebrew – I didn’t understand what he prayed. I had the honor to light the second candle – because it was my birthday. Hanukkah used to be most of the times the day of my birthday. After that mom lit the next candle, and after her the other children.
In our home we put the candle holder on the table, in America they put it on the window – I’ve read about it in a story. It was put on the table, the candle were lit, and then they put it on the window.
I think we even got some Hanukkah money when we were young, but we didn’t know on what to spend it, we didn’t know the value of money. Later the roles changed and I began to offer my parents money.
On the eve the first candle is lit, on the second day the second one, on the third the third one, on each evening one more. The candles are lit from another small candle, called Shamash.
My father used to light the first candle, said a prayer in Hebrew – I didn’t understand what he prayed. I had the honor to light the second candle – because it was my birthday. Hanukkah used to be most of the times the day of my birthday. After that mom lit the next candle, and after her the other children.
In our home we put the candle holder on the table, in America they put it on the window – I’ve read about it in a story. It was put on the table, the candle were lit, and then they put it on the window.
I think we even got some Hanukkah money when we were young, but we didn’t know on what to spend it, we didn’t know the value of money. Later the roles changed and I began to offer my parents money.
Then the war came and after the war everything else was over, including the customs which no longer all of them observed. I used to make only hamentaschen and bring them to school, where I was working.
I was to bring beverages too – mom used to make some very fine maraschino. The cherry stones were macerated for ten days with sugar, after that they were boiled, and blended with alcohol – it was an extraordinary liquor.
I was to bring beverages too – mom used to make some very fine maraschino. The cherry stones were macerated for ten days with sugar, after that they were boiled, and blended with alcohol – it was an extraordinary liquor.
Purim is celebrated first of all with those triangular cakes, hamentaschen. And what cakes my mother baked! Hamentaschen is a recipe with ten eggs. But they were never enough! We had to make it with twenty eggs. The recipe is written, I also have it. Seven egg yolks, three eggs – this is for the dough. It is made with oil only, and not with cream or butter.
The seven egg whites that remain are used to make a sort of white cake. That is how we called it. The egg whites are beaten into a thick foam and mixed with a cup of sugar, flour, Turkish delight, raisins and exotic fruits. The mixture is then placed in greased trays and put in the oven. When done, the white cake is cut into slices, like a normal cake.
My mother would make also a sort of Roulade with honey, and filled with nuts, cocoa and jam. It was like a Strudel, filled with nuts, not with cheese. It seems to me it was a little bit like Baklava, but without the syrup.
This is how it is made: the dough is made of water, flour and salt, without yeast this time. It should be very well battered and beaten on the table – maybe you’ve heard of this. Afterwards it is set aside to rest, covered with a heated pot.
After an hour or so, the dough is laid over a white table cloth, covered with flour. Then that dough is softly rolled with the rolling pin, then put in the middle of the table and rolled the size of the table. Sometimes it would get even bigger than the table, and the margins were then cut out.
This rolled dough is very thin, like a cigarette paper. Even if it was torn a little, it was patched with some dough. After that the dough is spread with walnut blended with sugar, cherry jam, perfumed Turkish delight – on that time the Turkish delight had a rose taste, vanilla taste, according to the color.
Oh, and the pieces of butter spread on the whole table. Than this dough is taken with the table cloth and rolled like a turn-over, then cut in portions and baked in the oven. It was delicious! The butter melted, the sugar melted too and mingled with the walnut… But nobody makes this cake anymore.
On Purim they used to send sweets, cakes, especially to the poor people and to the relatives. This tradition is observed even today. For example, I don’t observe it, but I get sweets from others. My mother used to send cakes, too. Friends used to come to our house: my brother’s friends from his school, my friends and our neighbors. We used to work a whole week to prepare that many cakes.
There were also carnivals. Musical groups, called Klezmer, used to sing in every yard and go from door to door – they performed a specific kind of music, and most of them were Gypsies. But they played Jewish music – they had an ear for that –, and they learned Jewish songs by singing from door to door.
They had a group – a cymbal, a violin, and they sung also with their voices –, they sung and got sweets and money. When we were young, we used to disguise ourselves.
I remember when I was still young, I used to draw a face on a sheet of paper, cut out the nose, the mouth and the eyes, paint it someway, hide it then somewhere under the drawer and awaited dad’s home coming. And when he came I put the mask on, so that he shouldn’t recognize me. I was so convinced, that I pulled his leg. I was certain.
Just imagine: who could have been disguised in our home? Well, childhood is beautiful. Generally I disguised myself like that. We didn’t go from door to door, but other disguised people used to come by. Butonly whenwe were still young, after that they didn’t do it anymore, for Jews weren’t allowed to leave the house.
The seven egg whites that remain are used to make a sort of white cake. That is how we called it. The egg whites are beaten into a thick foam and mixed with a cup of sugar, flour, Turkish delight, raisins and exotic fruits. The mixture is then placed in greased trays and put in the oven. When done, the white cake is cut into slices, like a normal cake.
My mother would make also a sort of Roulade with honey, and filled with nuts, cocoa and jam. It was like a Strudel, filled with nuts, not with cheese. It seems to me it was a little bit like Baklava, but without the syrup.
This is how it is made: the dough is made of water, flour and salt, without yeast this time. It should be very well battered and beaten on the table – maybe you’ve heard of this. Afterwards it is set aside to rest, covered with a heated pot.
After an hour or so, the dough is laid over a white table cloth, covered with flour. Then that dough is softly rolled with the rolling pin, then put in the middle of the table and rolled the size of the table. Sometimes it would get even bigger than the table, and the margins were then cut out.
This rolled dough is very thin, like a cigarette paper. Even if it was torn a little, it was patched with some dough. After that the dough is spread with walnut blended with sugar, cherry jam, perfumed Turkish delight – on that time the Turkish delight had a rose taste, vanilla taste, according to the color.
Oh, and the pieces of butter spread on the whole table. Than this dough is taken with the table cloth and rolled like a turn-over, then cut in portions and baked in the oven. It was delicious! The butter melted, the sugar melted too and mingled with the walnut… But nobody makes this cake anymore.
On Purim they used to send sweets, cakes, especially to the poor people and to the relatives. This tradition is observed even today. For example, I don’t observe it, but I get sweets from others. My mother used to send cakes, too. Friends used to come to our house: my brother’s friends from his school, my friends and our neighbors. We used to work a whole week to prepare that many cakes.
There were also carnivals. Musical groups, called Klezmer, used to sing in every yard and go from door to door – they performed a specific kind of music, and most of them were Gypsies. But they played Jewish music – they had an ear for that –, and they learned Jewish songs by singing from door to door.
They had a group – a cymbal, a violin, and they sung also with their voices –, they sung and got sweets and money. When we were young, we used to disguise ourselves.
I remember when I was still young, I used to draw a face on a sheet of paper, cut out the nose, the mouth and the eyes, paint it someway, hide it then somewhere under the drawer and awaited dad’s home coming. And when he came I put the mask on, so that he shouldn’t recognize me. I was so convinced, that I pulled his leg. I was certain.
Just imagine: who could have been disguised in our home? Well, childhood is beautiful. Generally I disguised myself like that. We didn’t go from door to door, but other disguised people used to come by. Butonly whenwe were still young, after that they didn’t do it anymore, for Jews weren’t allowed to leave the house.
When the Sukkoth was over, we would go on the banks of the Bahlui River, who flows through Iassy, and we would take some pebbles out of the pockets and throw them into the water, so as to symbolize getting rid of your sins. Only men were entitled to go. Only father went. My brother never went.
Romania
Leonid Mariasis
I was called Leon at birth. This name was written in the registry book of all Jews of Bendery town. Later I had the name of Leonid written in my passport. This name is more Russian and I’ve lived the rest of my life with it. Later it was officially proved that these are two identical names.
I was born in the town of Kebena, Rumania. Kebena was a Rumanian name of the town. When in summer of 1940 it became part of the Soviet Union the town was given its old Turkish name of Bendery. This was a multinational town were Jews, Moldavians, Rumanians, gypsies, Russians and Ukrainians were good neighbors. There were no national conflicts and everybody was minding his own business. There was a cathedral, a Christian church and a synagogue in the central square and everybody was free to go to a church of his choice.
My father Shabsa Mariasis was born in 1897. He was a businessman during the Rumanian times. He owned a petroleum storage depot and stores. He was a wealthy man.
My grandfather was very kind. He called us “Meine kind” – “my children” in Yiddish. My grandfather spoke Yiddish in his house and so did his family.
During the family gatherings on holidays my grandfather said a prayer. I believe he was a very religious man, but I was too young to care then. He always wore a kippah at home and left home wearing a hat and long black jacket. He often went to the synagogue. I loved to visit him at Hanukkah when he had some money saved for me. This is the only holiday that I remember.
She always wore a snow-white apron and a white kerchief on her head. My grandmother was religious. She got some education at home, which was not much. However, she knew all prayers very well and she went to the synagogue with my grandfather on holidays. Jewish women came to ask her advice on various matters before and after the war. Every Friday my grandmother lit candles, said prayers and it all seemed a solemnity to us, children.
My father Shabsa Mariasis, born in 1897, was the most successful of all grandfather’s children. He was quite an intelligent man. He finished the Russian grammar school and got involved in commercial activities. He was a success and in the 1930s he already owned a petroleum storage depot and several stores. He was Chairman of the Commercial Council in Bendery. He led a very active public life and supported many people financially. He was a Zionist. He was for a Jewish state. He believed that Jews had to live together. He believed that only a strong Jewish state could stand against anti-Semitism.
As far as I remember, all members of our family were religious. They observed all Jewish traditions, Jewish holidays and fasting. They didn’t impose their beliefs on the children. The children were raised democratically in the family. My father mainly prayed at home. On holidays he and mother went to the synagogue. My father had his own seat there. I remember when I grew up my father took me to the synagogue at Yom-Kipur. And when they were making a round with the Torah, they gave me a small Torah and I made the round there. There were two synagogues in Bendery: one for the rich and one for the poor. We attended the synagogue for the rich. This was a bigger synagogue, very richly furnished and decorated. It had golden candle stands and Hanukkiah, beautiful fancy dishes, soft comfortable chairs and a huge silver tsdoka (collecting box) for charity contributions at the entrance. The contributions were generous and big. I know that all Jews in Bendery went to the synagogue. I remember the rabbi greeting the Jews at the synagogue with a holiday.
In 1919 my father met the daughter of a rich businessman Mikhel Patlazhan. Her name was Perlia and she was 19 years old. She was born in 1900. She finished the grammar school for girls in Kishinev. She was a very pretty girl and they had a rich Jewish wedding in 1920. They had a wedding party in Kishinev and then, when my father took his young wife to Bendery they had another wedding party. Before the wedding my father and grandfather Patlazhan developed a tnoim (a written engagement agreement. It includes information about the dowry, presents, etc.). It was customary for rich people.
My mother’s father Mikhel Patlazhan born in Kishinev in 1872 was a wealthy man. He owned a few houses and he leased apartments. I think he finished cheder. He observed Jewish tradition when they were in no conflict with his business. If he had business on Saturday, he did it instead of celebrating Sabbath. He wore no beard and smoked on Saturday. But still my grandfather went to the synagogue on big holidays like Purim, Pesach, Yom-Kippur and Hanukkah.
Pynia and Grandfather Mikhel Patlazhan perished in 1941 when fascists came to Kishinev.
My mother Perlia Patlazhan was born in Kishinev in 1900. My mother, however, remembered the pogrom in 1903. She was only 3 years old. But she remembered how one of her relatives in Kishinev was blinded. She remembered these horrible things and told me the story mentioning some names, but I don’t remember them.
My mother studied music, like her sisters, and there was a teacher to teach the girls Yiddish, their “mother tongue” and Hebrew. My mother studied at the Goldenberg private Russian grammar school for Jewish girls.
My father built a good one-storied building. There were just few two- or three-storied buildings in Bendery at that time. There was a big yard near the house that served as petroleum storage depot. There were huge underground tanks for petroleum. We occupied 5 rooms in the house; children’s rooms, a dining room, a living room, a bedroom and a hallway. It was a beautiful house in the center of the town not far from the railway station. There were few other apartments in our building that were on lease. Our apartment was very nice. We had a very nice apartment. We had lovely dishes, tablecloths and furniture from Vienna. There was no electricity in Bendery until 1930 when the power plant was built. So, we used kerosene lamps before. However, my father bought a power generator. It was a luxury in Bendery and people came to take a look at the wonderful machine. There were primus stoves in the kitchen. We had a Jewish cook. There were women to do the cleaning and washing. They were not necessarily Jewish. My nanny Katia was not Jewish. My only memory of her is when I once cut her summer dress with scissors.