Travel

Angyalosi Endre

Életrajz

Angyalosi Endre feleségével, Klárival lakik egy belvárosi házban. Szép, világos, tágas szobában beszélgettünk minden alkalommal, felesége is részt vett a beszélgetéseken. Angyalosi Endre elképesztő vitalitással mesélt, minden történetet eljátszott, rengeteget énekelt a beszélgetéseink alatt. Jó és könnyed hangulatban telt az idő, még a fájdalmasabb, nehezebb témákról is egyfajta humorral beszélt. Elégedett ember benyomását kelti, aki mind a mai napig kocsival jön-megy a városban.

Az apai családom Erdélyből származik. Apám neve Angyalosi Béla volt, és ha jól emlékszem, 1905-ben született. Az apám részéről a rokonok őskeresztények voltak, és semmi több, amit tudnék róluk. Ez azért van, mert az apám hároméves koromban otthagyott minket. Gyakorlatilag nem foglalkozott velünk. Tartásdíjat sem fizetett. Mindig bujkált ide-oda az országban. Fodrász volt, és mint ilyen bárhol létezni tudott. A gyerekekkel akkoriban az árvaszék foglalkozott, és folyton kerestették, de nem lehetett kikutatni, hogy hol van. Leginkább még az anyai nagyapám kerestette. Egy nő testvéréről tudtam valami keveset, aki szintén Pesten lakott. Gyerekkoromban talán ha kétszer láthattam.

Lényeg az, hogy az apám és anyám Budapesten ismerkedtek meg, és itt volt az esküvőjük is, a Dohány utcai zsidó templomban.

Érdekes módon, mielőtt az apám megházasodott, és elvette az édesanyámat, nyilván a nagyszüleim követelésére, huszonegy éves kora körül áttért a zsidó hitre, és körülmetéltette magát. Azt már nem tudom, hogy az apám mennyire gyakorolta ezt a vallást, de nem valószínű, hogy gyakorolta egyáltalán. Az viszont biztos, hogy csak azért tért át, hogy elvehesse anyámat. Később, az otthagyásunktól számított körülbelül három év múlva, összesen hat év zsidóság után visszatért a római katolikus vallásra.

Az akkori törvények értelmében a fiúgyereknek az apa vallását kellett követnie Miután apám abban az időben már ismét római katolikus lett, de a bíróság az anyámnak ítélt, feltehető, hogy bosszúból ragaszkodott ahhoz, hogy mi keresztények, római katolikusok legyünk [lásd: vallásváltoztatás]. A Bajza utcában laktunk, nem messze a Szent Család templomtól [VI. kerület, Szondi u. 1931-ben épült Fábián Gáspár tervei szerint késő-gótikus stílusban. – A szerk.], és az akkori tisztelendő együtt sajnálkozott a szegény zsidó nagyszülőkkel, hogy a gyerekeknek katolikusoknak kell lenniük. Előírta az árvaszék [Az árvaszék elnökből, legalább két ülnökből és jegyzőből álló hatóság volt, határozatainak végrehajtása a szolgabírák és községi elöljáróságok kompetenciájába tartozott. Ülései nyilvánosak voltak, határozatait szótöbbséggel hozta, és indokolni volt köteles. Rendezett tanácsú városokban elnöke a polgármester volt. – A szerk.], hogy keresztény szellemben kell nevelni minket, és jelesnek kell lenni hittanból. A zsidó nagyapám foglalkozott is velünk, az akkor már gaj [gój] gyerekekkel, hogy jelesek legyünk a római katolikus hittanból. Minden vasárnap templomba kellett járnunk. A Szent Család templom öt házzal volt arrébb. Csakhamar első gyónók [A katolikus egyház és az ortodox egyházak hét szentséget ismernek el, ezek egyike a bűnbánat szentsége, amely a következő elemekből áll: (a) a bűnbánó részéről a bűnök (önkéntes) megvallása – meggyónása – négyszemközt a papnak és a jóvátételre irányuló szándék; (b) a pap részéről a föloldozás, amely a bűnöket eltörli. A pap a bűnökért elégtételt (imádság, böjt stb.) ró ki. A bűnbevallás során elhangzottak gyónási titkok. A katolikus egyház kötelezően előírja az évente egyszeri gyónást. A gyónás színhelye rendesen a gyóntatószék. – A szerk.] és -áldozók lettünk [Áldozás – a katolikus egyházakban az Oltáriszentség vétele (szintén a hét szentség egyike) és így Krisztussal való egyesülés (communio) rendesen a templomban a mise alatt. Az áldozás (eucharisztia) szertartása liturgikus módon megismétli Jézusnak a kenyérrel és borral kapcsolatos, az utolsó vacsorán elhangzott szavait és cselekedeteit. Az eucharisztia a keresztény életbe bevezető három beavató szentség egyike (a másik kettő a keresztség és a bérmálás), így a hívő életében nagy jelentősége van annak, amikor először részesül a szentáldozásban. A kereszténység kezdeti időszakában a megtérő egyszerre részesült mindhárom beavató szentségben, a katolikus gyakorlatban azonban három időpontra váltak szét. Az elsőáldozásra 6–10 éves korban kerül sor. Megelőzi egy alapszintű hitoktatás (célja, hogy az elsőáldozásra készülő fogalmilag különbséget tudjon tenni a közönséges és a Krisztus testévé átváltoztatott ostya között), valamint az első gyónás. Az elsőáldozás hagyományosan nagy pompával jár, amelyet rendszerint családi ünnepség követ. A gyerekeket az esküvőihez hasonló ruhákba öltöztetik, a mise végeztével pedig a szülők és keresztszülők megajándékozzák őket. – A szerk.]. Én bérmálkoztam is. A bérmálkozás a Bazilikában volt. Serédi Jusztinián, az akkori bíboros érsek bérmált [Serédi Jusztinián (1884–1945) – római katolikus főpap, jogtudós. 1927 novemberében a pápa püspökké és esztergomi érsekké, decemberben bíborossá nevezte ki. Lásd még: a magyarországi keresztény egyházak és a holokauszt; keresztény egyházak és a zsidókérdés. – A szerk.]. Nem csak engem, hanem a többi gyereket is. Jelképesen pofon ütött minket, amely hozzátartozott a szertartáshoz. A bérmanevem Jozefusz lett [A megkeresztelt hívő a bérmálás során részesedik a Szentlélekből. A keleti rítusokban rögtön a keresztelés után szolgáltatják ki, a latin rítusban akkor, amikor a felvevő már megérti a bérmálás jelentését, vagyis ma a felnőttkor küszöbén. Általában a püspök szolgáltatja ki (a homlok megkenése a krizmével /olaj/ és kézrátétellel). A bérmálás megerősíti az egyházhoz tartozás kötelékét, szintén egyike a hét szentségnek. – A szerk.]. (A zsidó nevemre sajnos nem emlékszem, pedig az is volt.)

Anyám édesapját Schultheisz Kálmánnak hívták, 1877-ben született Zsámbékon [Zsámbék – nagyközség volt Pest-Pilis-Solt-Kiskun vm.-ben, 1891-ben és 1910-ben egyaránt 4200 német és magyar lakossal. – A szerk.], és hatvanhét éves korában halt meg 1945-ben, Budapesten. Vízvezeték-szerelőnek tanult, és ha éppen volt munkája, akkor azzal foglakozott. A nagyapámnak volt még két testvére is. Az egyik Százhalombattán élt [Százhalombatta – nagyközség volt Fejér vm.-ben, 1891-ben 1100, 1910-ban 1600, 1920-ban 1500 magyar és szerb lakossal. – A szerk.], és Izidornak hívták, a másik Törökszentmiklóson lakott, és a Lajos nevet kapta [Törökszentmiklós – nagyközség volt Jász-Nagykun-Szolnok vm.-ben, 1891-ben 18 800 (55% római katolikus, 40% református, 4% izraelita, 1% evangélikus), 1910-ben 25 100 lakossal. Volt ipariskolája, a 20. század első évtizedeiben polgári iskolája, több nagy téglagyára és malma, valamint ekegyára. – A szerk.]. Megjegyzem, hogy köztük nagyapám volt a szegény ember.

A két testvére jómódú volt. Mind a kettőnek szatócsüzlete volt. A százhalombattaiak még harminc hold földet is birtokoltak. Mint gyerek elég sokszor voltam Százhalombattán, és rendszeresen nyaraltam ott. Valójában nagyon szerettem ott lenni. Volt tíz-tizenkét tehenük, más állatokat is közvetlenül ismerhettem meg. A szatócsüzletben sok mindenfélét árultak. Emlékszem, volt egy nagy mákdarálójuk, és időnként azzal vacakolgattam-játszogattam. Élveztem a nagy átmérőjű kerék pörgését.

Ez a család elég vallásos volt. Ám hogyan és miként élték ki vallásosságukat, azt nem tudom. A péntek estéket megtartották, a bolt szombaton zárva volt [lásd: szombati munkavégzés tilalma], de kóser háztartásuk nem volt. Az Izidor családjában négy felnőtt gyerek volt, három lány és egy fiú. Csak egy lány nevére (Rózsi) és a fiúéra (Imre) emlékszem. Érdekes, hogy egyikőjük sem volt házas. Később mindegyikük a zsidóüldözés következtében halt meg. Deportálták őket, és senki nem jött vissza közülük. Mindezt onnan tudom, hogy amikor néhány éve lent voltam Százhalombattán, az ottaniak elmesélték.

Ahol én töltöttem a nyarat annak idején, az a régi – jóval kisebb – Százhalombatta volt. Ma is úgy nevezik az ottani lakosok, hogy régi Százhalombatta. Engem persze nem az új, hanem a régi érdekelt. Ahogy ott mentem, mendegéltem, voltak nénik, akik szóba elegyedtek velem, mert látták, hogy egy városi öltözetű, idegen ember halad az utcán, s akkor én mondtam nekik, hogy nagyapám testvére lakott itt a háború előtt, és gyerekként rendszeresen nyaraltam náluk. „Ki az?” – kérdezték. „A Schultheiszék” – válaszoltam. „Jaj, az Izidorék?!” – mondták. És akkor egy idős néni, aki emlékezett rájuk, a lehető legjobb véleményt mondta róluk, ami nekem is nagyon jól esett. Valójában tőlük tudtam meg, hogy elvitték őket, és azt is, hogy miként hajtották ki a faluból a családot.

A nagymamámat lánykori nevén Weiner Rózának hívták. Ő 1880-ban született Dömösön [Dömös – nagyközség volt Esztergom vm.-ben, 1891-ben 1300, 1910-ben 1500 lakossal. – A szerk.], és 1958-ban halt meg Budapesten. Egész életében háztartásbeli volt. Aztán hogy négy vagy hat elemit végzett-e, azt nem tudom. Egy hétgyerekes család gyereke volt. Az ő családja vallásos zsidó család volt. Ennél sokkal többet nem tudok, mert én személyesen csak keveset ismerhettem közülük. A testvérek neveit tudom, és azt is kikutattam, hogy melyikük mikor született. Etel 1871-ben, Cecília 1874-ben, Mór 1877-ben, Ida 1878-ban, Aranka 1887-ben, Jolán 1889-ben született. Mindannyian Dömösön születtek. Etel, Ida és Aranka néni Auschwitzban halt meg. A többiek részben a háború előtt, részben utána. A nagy családot dédapámnak, Weiner Ignácnak a vendéglője tartotta el. A dédmamám neve Stern Johanna volt. A dédapám 1846-ban született Nagyorosziban [Nagyoroszi – nagyközség volt Nógrád vm.-ben, 1891-ben 2000, 1910-ben 2300 lakossal. – A szerk.], és Dömösön halt meg 1919-ben. A dédanyám 1843-ban született Kecelen [Kecel – nagyközség volt Pest-Pilis-Solt-Kiskun vm.-ben, 1891-ben 6000, 1910-ben 8200 lakossal. – A szerk.], és 1928-ban halt meg Dömösön. Többet nem tudok róluk. Ezeket az adatokat is csak hosszas munka után sikerült kiderítenem.

A hét testvér közül kettőt ismertem jobban: Aranka nénit és Ida nénit. Aranka néni férje keresztény volt, de ez Aranka nénémet nem zavarta. Ő megtartotta a zsidóságát az Ida nénivel együtt. Ida néni is férjhez ment egy Klein Miksa nevű férfihez. Nekik azonban nem lett gyerekük. A két özvegyen maradt testvér (mindkettőjüknek meghalt a férje még a háború előtt) külön házban lakott. Az Aranka nénié és az Ida nénié a mai napig is létezik. Olyan stabil ház volt az egyik, hogy most is egy posta működik benne. Egy elég nagy és komoly házra emlékszem magam is. A nagymamám testvéreivel a kapcsolattartás kizárólag abban állt, hogy minden évben mi mentünk Dömösre. Ott is ugyanolyan sokszor nyaraltam, mint Szászhalombattán. Még két testvérre emlékszem, a Móric bácsira és a Jolán nénire.

Az anyai nagyszüleimnek két gyereke született: 1904-ben Laci és 1906-ban az édesanyám, Etel. Épp az idén lenne száz éves. 1970-ben halt meg. Nem tudom, milyen iskolákba jártak. Annyit tudok, hogy az anyám paplanvarrónő lett, és egész életében reggeltől estig dolgozott a Pluma Paplangyárban. Akkor ez egy elég híres gyár volt Pesten. Vágó nevű volt a tulajdonosa, aki egy zsidó származású férfi volt. Egyébként a távoli rokonsághoz tartozott. A gazdagabb rokonsághoz. Ezért anyámnak sose kellett félnie attól, hogy elbocsátják. A gyár a Vígszínház mellett volt, egy óriási pincében. Ott kárpitosmunkákat is csináltak, nemcsak paplanokat. Géppel varrott paplanok is voltak. Szerettem oda járni. Anyámnak vittem ebédet. A távoli rokonainkkal nem nagyon volt kapcsolatunk, hacsak annyi nem, hogy időnként elmentünk a Netti nénihez, aki ennek a Vágónak volt az anyukája. Ott nagyon jó kakaót meg finom kajákat lehetett enni, olyat, amit otthon sosem. Lehetett érezni a jómódot rajtuk s a lakásukon is. Nagyanyám csodálatos díszpárnákat készített nekik, és vitte a Netti néniékhez.

Anyám testvére, Laci kereskedősegédnek tanult, de ezt ő világ életében semmibe vette. Érdekes módon 1929-ben, amikor én megszülettem, ő akkor ment ki Párizsba. Festőművész lett. Grafikus és festőművész. Ott fejlesztette ki magában, és abból is élt. Le is telepedett Párizsban. Nem tudom, milyen iskolát végzett, de az, biztos, hogy képzőművészeti iskolát nem végzett. Ennek ellenére nagyon jó dolgai voltak. Mindvégig levelezett az itthoniakkal, és végül 1943-ban hazajött. Ő baloldali ember volt, bár túlzottan nem exponálta magát, de azért lehetett tudni róla. Amikor Laci hazajött, dolgozott mindenfélét, de festeni nem festett. Ám nem tudott lemondani erről, és nagyon sok képet csinált később is, ami a mai napig a gyerekénél megvan. Nagyon jó dolgokat festett, elsősorban portrékat csinált. Későn nősült meg. A felesége, aki a nagynénim, fiatalabb, mint én. Egy fiuk született, a Patrik. A Lacinál a zsidónak élés abban fejeződött ki, hogyha bármikor szóba került a zsidó mivolt, akkor ő nyíltan a zsidóság mellett állt ki. Ő ezt szinte mindenütt még fitogtatta is, hogy milyen zsidó. Közben ő is csak a nagyobb ünnepeket tartotta meg.

Anyám családja, ahol magam is nevelkedtem tulajdonképpen kevésbé volt vallásos, mint azok, akik minden ünnepet és szokást betartottak. De a zsidó tudatot, a zsidó létet őrizték. Nagyünnepeken elmentek a zsinagógába, a Dohány utcába. Néha én is elmentem. A nagyanyám mindig azt mondta, hogyha szóba került, hogy kóser vagy nem kóser: „Nekünk nincs arra pénzünk, hogy kóserek legyünk” [lásd: étkezési törvények].

A nagymamám minden pénteken gyertyát gyújtott [lásd: péntek esti gyertyagyújtás], utána vacsora volt. Természetesen a nagy zsidó ünnepeket mind megtartotta [lásd: nagyünnepek]. Több imakönyvünk is volt otthon. Volt egy fehér zacskó, amelyben benne volt a nagyobb ünnepek imádkozásaikor használt ruhadarab, amit úgy is hívtak, hogy kétli [kitli]. Egyszínű fehér, de azt sose tudtam, és nem is kérdeztem, hogy mire való. Voltak benne kábé másfél centi vékonyságú bőrszíjak [tfilin], és úgy emlékszem, hogy a nagyapám rátekerte a kezére, amikor valami nevezetes ünnepnap volt. E napok nevét sem tudom. Ilyenkor ezt tekerte magára, és imádkozott is. Sőt félrehúzódott, és akkor a nagyanyám mindig mondta: „Hagyjátok nagyapátokat!”

A nagypapa nem dolgozott egy helyen. Tehát úgy, hogy reggel bemegy, este hazajön. Időszakosan volt csak munkája. Volt egy rokonféleség, olyan távoli rokon, akinek az Elemér utcában volt egy bádogosműhelye. Emlékszem, hogy ebbe a bádogosműhelybe járt el időnként.

Én a Nefelejcs utcában születtem, 1929-ben. Nem sokáig laktunk ott, csakhamar elköltöztünk. Bár egy rendes egyszobás, összkomfortos lakás volt, de nem bírtuk fizetni, és ezért kerestünk egy másikat. Ekkor kerültünk a Bajza utcába, a Podmaniczky utca és a Szondi utca közötti részre, a Bajza utca 40-be. Természetesen bérlakás volt. Egy körfolyosós házban középen laktunk, s az első lépcsőn közlekedtünk [Vagyis nem a cselédeknek fenntartott szűkebb, a házak hátsó fertályán lévő ún. cselédlépcsőn. – A szerk.]. Ez egyszobás lakás volt összkomfort nélkül, hideg-meleg víz a „falon” – ahogy hülyéskedésből mondani szoktam. Egyébként nem volt vizes a lakás. A folyosó egyik részén volt a vécé, és mindenkinek kulcsa volt a saját vécéjéhez. Jóban voltunk mindenkivel a házban, sőt az egyik első emeleti lakó lett a keresztapám-keresztanyám, mikor átkeresztelkedtünk.

A lakásunkban egyszerű bútoraink voltak. Az ágyban egyikünk nagyapámmal, másikunk meg anyámmal aludt. Aztán cseréltünk, mikor, hol. Tehát volt a két ágy, előtte a sezlon, és vagy anyámnál aludtam, vagy a nagyapámnál. Jobbadára a nagyapámnál. A nagymama egyedül aludt mindig. Ő vitte a háztartást. Ő tulajdonképpen egy igen rendes, karakán asszony volt, de olyan, hogy ő töltötte be a családfői tisztet is. Ő rendelkezett mindenről. A nagyapám jófejű, olvasott ember volt, és nagyon szerették a házban is, ahol a szomszédos lakók „így a Schultheisz bácsi, úgy a Schultheisz bácsi” emlegették. De a családban a nagyanyámnak volt vezérhangja. Németül tudtak mindketten, de csak ritkán beszéltek egymás között. Ha valami olyasmit akartak mondani, amit a gyerekek nem kell hogy tudjanak, akkor jött a német: „Nicht vor dem Kind” [Ne a gyerek előtt!] bevezetéssel kezdtek németül beszélni.

Nem voltak otthon saját könyveink, de én mégis rengeteget olvastam. Kaptam kölcsön. Rengeteg ponyvaregényt is olvastunk. Járt nekünk a mindennapi „Friss Ujság” [1896–1944 között megjelent független politikai napilap, az első, a parasztság és a kispolgárság részére kiadott ún. „néplap”. Példányszáma meghaladta a százezret. – A szerk.]. Játékaink viszont nem nagyon voltak, arra külön nem költöttek. Csak egyetlenegy játékra emlékszem – agyaggolyókra. Ez egy fő szórakozás volt. A házbeli meg nem házbeli srácokkal lementünk az utcára, és golyóztunk. Akkor nem volt ilyen forgalom, mint ma, tehát veszély nélkül golyózhattunk a járda mellett.

Az ünnepeink egyik eseménye volt minden héten a péntek este, a gyertyagyújtással. A többi ünnepről nem nagyon tudok. Egy ünnepre azonban emlékszem, ez az Újév, a Rásesoné [Ros Hásáná]. Ettünk mézet és almát [Ros Hásánákor szoktak kenyeret és egy szelet almát mézbe mártani, hogy ezzel biztosítsák az édes új évet. – A szerk.]. És persze voltak a születésnapjaink. Érdekes módon, a mi családunkban, eltérően a szomszédos, keresztény családoktól, ahol a névnap a megünneplendő, nálunk sosem volt ünnepelve. Nálunk mindig a születésnap volt az igazi esemény. A karácsonyt is megtartottuk, de fenyőfánk nem volt. Valószínűleg nem azért, mert nem tartották egy zsidó családban a karácsonyfát odaillőnek, hanem nem adtak ki rá pénzt. Ez egészen biztos. Jó kaja viszont volt. Természetesen a bejgli. Pészahkor, szédereste maceszgombóc is volt. De hogy pontosan hogy is volt, azt nem tudom. Nem is emlékszem, csak arra, hogy valamit magyarázgatott a nagyapám.

Nekem az egész gyerekkorom egy nagyszerű élmény volt. Én ugyanis gyerekszínész voltam. De hogyan is lettem ez? Fogalmam sincs. De az biztos, hogy a nagyanyám által. Anyám dolgozott, nagyapám ilyesmivel nem törődött, hát maradt a nagyanya. Tehát valahogyan a nagyanyám tudhatta, hogy hova kell menni ez ügyben. Először meghallgattak, amikor valamit előadtam, és ott rögtön a színtársulatba fölvett Kincses bácsi, a Meseszínházába. Ez olyan név volt akkor, mint egy picivel később a Lakner bácsi-féle gyerekszínház [Lakner Artúr, azaz Lakner bácsi Gyermekszínháza – gyermekszínészekből álló társulat – 1926 és 1943 között működött. A Magyar Színháztörténeti Lexikon megemlíti a Kincses László irányításával működő Belvárosi Gyermekszínpadot, amely 1928-ig működött, és említést tesz egy Meseszínház nevű gyermekszínházról, amelyet Szili Kovács László igazgatott. Ez 1931–32-ben állt fenn. Kincses bácsi-féle Meseszínházról nem találunk adatot, de A HUEAN026. sz. kép szerint 1933–34-ben létezett ezen a címen: Kincses bácsi Meseszínháza.  – A szerk.]. Éppen öt éves voltam, amikor már igen aktívan bekerültem. De már ezt megelőzve is voltam gyerekszínész. Gyakorlatilag olyan három és fél, négyéves koromtól majdhogynem folyamatosan. Ezt igazolandó, ma is megvannak még az akkori kis plakátok, röpcédulák. A család kenyérkeresői tehát kik voltak? Anyám meg én. És azt, hogy én is családfenntartó vagyok, a szüleim kifejezetten éreztették is velem. Becsültek gyerek létemre. Jó ruhákban jártam stb. Az biztos, hogy az Endikének mindene megvolt [„Endy” – „Angyalossy Endy” – ez volt a „művészneve” a színlapok és igazolványok tanúsága szerint. – A szerk.]. Nagyanyám mindig mondta: „Endike, az színészgyerek.”

Volt a Bethlen téren egy színház. Ez a színház olyan volt, mint kicsiben a Vígszínház. Ugyanaz az elhelyezés. Egy nagyon jó színház volt [Bethlen téri Színház (Bethlen tér 3.) – 1929 és 1937 között működött, előbb Bethlen téri Színpad néven (konzorciális alapon szervezett színházi vállalkozás), majd Bethlen téri Színház néven. (1933-ig az egyik főrendező Kellér Dezső volt.) A színházban eleinte kabarét játszottak, majd 1932-től háromfelvonásos színdarabokat. (A társulat tagjai közé tartozott Erdélyi Mihály, Csortos Gyula, Sulyok Mária is.) A műsorban egyaránt szerepeltek zenés vígjátékok, bohózatok, irredenta szellemű színművek és zsidó témájú darabok. 1937 elején a Bethlen téri Színház bezárt, a helyiség moziként működött tovább (Magyar Színházművészeti Lexikon). – A szerk.]. Mindig úgy mondták, hogy Meseszínház. Itt rengeteget léptünk fel. De sokat voltunk vidéken is. Valószínű, hogy jól csinálhattam a dolgokat, mert amikor az igazgató, ebben az esetben a Kincses bácsi válogatott, mindig engem küldött reklámozni. Később a Ragály bácsi, aki a Ragály Elemér papája, meg a Róna bácsi, aki a Róna Viktor papája volt, és gyerekszínházuk volt. Én is játszottam ott mindegyiknél, mert folyton beválogattak. Mindig engem vittek vidékre. A színházi műsorok és a moziműsorok előtt bemondták, hogy ez meg ez a gyerekszínész és társulat jön, akkor én kijöttem, és leadtam a számomat. Sokféle témájú számunk volt. Komplett szöveg, ének és tánc. Megírta Pálmási Olivér, aki egy jó nevű kísérő zongorista, zeneszerző volt [Valószínűleg Pálmás Olivérről (1902–?) van szó, filmzenét szerzett az 1930–40-es években. – A szerk.]. Mi pedig leadtuk a számokat. Fantasztikus egy dolog volt, mert sikerült felkelteni az érdeklődést a gyerektársulat iránt.

A legszebb emlékem 1942–1943-ban volt, amikor a „Három a kislány”-t [H. Berté (1857–1924) operettje Schubert műveinek fölhasználásával. – A szerk.] adtuk elő, és én voltam benne Schubert Ferenc zeneszerző. Abszolút főszerep, hiszen az ő életéről szól. Ezzel is végigmentünk szinte az egész országban, óriási nagy sikerrel. Én nagyon szerettem színészkedni. A szereplés a mindenem volt! Egyszerűen így születtem.

A Szinyei Merse utca és Kmetty utca sarkán lévő iskolába jártam elemibe. Négy elemit végeztem itt, és utána polgáriba [lásd: polgári iskola] mentem. Gimnáziumba a nagyobb költségek miatt nem mehettem. A Nagymező utcai polgáriba mentem. Oda két évig jártam, mert onnan elköltöztették az iskolát a Rottenbiller utcába, ahol most is iskola van. A Rottenbiller utcában sem voltunk sokáig, mert a Felsőerdősor utcába mentünk át. Végül is én a Felsőerdősorban végeztem.

Az iskolával összeegyeztetni a színészkedésemet csak egy tizenkét kilós libával lehetett. Kellett a liba egyszer-egyszer, hogy beírják, rendben van az évem, s megkapjam az osztályzatokat. Hogy a libát az osztályfőnöknek adta nagyanyám vagy talán az igazgatónak? Nem tudom. Fogalmam sincs. De az biztos, hogy libát kellett adni néhányszor. A nagyapám pedig mindig azt mondta, hogyha ez a gyerek meg tudja tanulni a sok oldalas szövegkönyveket, akkor azt, amit az iskolában feladnak, szintén meg tudja tanulni. És tényleg így volt. A nagyapám átvette velem a leckéket, megnézte, kikérdezte és kész. Nem volt semmi probléma. Én nem játszottam meg a színészgyereket, miközben mindenki tudta, a tanár is, a tanárnő is. Én nem éreztettem sehogy sem. Természetes módon viselkedtem.

Az öcsém, Laci 1931-ben született. Elemi iskolát végzett. A Lehel utcai iskolába járt, és ott fejezte be a nyolc általánost [Ez 1945 körül lehetett. Ekkor már voltak itt-ott nyolcosztályos általános iskolák. Lásd: nyolcosztályos általános iskola. De ha már szakmát is a háború előtt szerzett, akkor valószínűleg hatosztályos népiskolába („elemi iskola”) járt, és utána tanoncként szerzett szakmát. – A szerk.]. Utána villanyszerelő lett, de már csak a háború után kezdett el dolgozni, karbantartó villanyszerelőként. Évtizedeket volt a honvédségnél, onnan is ment nyugdíjba. Nős volt, de nem lett gyerekük. Én általában egy hónapban egyszer biztos, hogy elmegyek hozzá. Ő nemigen jön hozzánk. Itt lakik, Pesten.

Gyerekkorunkban én állandóan a fellépésekre jártam, ő pedig otthon maradt. Ám volt olyan is, amikor kérte tőlünk a rendező, hogy hozzunk még gyerekeket, akkor biztos, hogy az öcsémet is vittem. Tehát felléptettem. „Ezt az öcskösöm is megcsinálja” – mondtam. És meg is csinálta. A nagyanyám vitt mindig a fellépésekre. Ő öltöztetett. Persze az édesanyám is megnézett, ha tehette.

Visszatérve a saját sorsomra… Az elemiben nem számított, hogy ki a zsidó és ki nem. Nem is volt róla szó. A polgáriban, a Felsőerdősorban már előjött, hogy ki zsidó, ki nem. Tudniillik akkoriban zsidóosztályokat csináltak, amit belső rendelet írt elő. Én nem kerültem zsidóosztályba, mert engem az osztályfőnököm, Gelsi László, aki egy nagyszerű ember volt, a keresztény osztályba osztott bár tudta, hogy a nagyanyámék és anyámék részéről őszsidó vagyok. Végül is én magam római katolikus voltam, és ezért maradhattam a római katolikus osztályban. Közben a zsidógyerekeket az á-ból és a b-ből, egy zsidó c osztályba tették át.

Engem a zsidó sors foglalkoztatott olykor-olykor. Leginkább akkor, amikor a nagyszülőket is foglalkoztatta. Különben az, hogy én keresztény vagy zsidó vagyok, azért nem fordult meg bennem, mert mint vallást nem gyakoroltam egyiket sem. Én tudtam a kereszténységet vinni az iskolában az otthoni zsidóság mellett. Emlékszem anyám mondatára: „Jaj! keresztény lett az Endi, és még a kis Laci is!” Erre mindig azt mondta nagyanyám: „Ne törődj vele, a Krisztus is zsidó volt!” Ezzel nagyanyám elintézte ezt a dolgot.

Mivel én a keresztény osztályban maradtam, ez azt is jelentette, hogy leventefoglalkozásokra kellett járnunk [lásd: levente-mozgalom]. Nagyon lényeges dolog lett később, hogy én levente lettem. A zsidókat ugyanis nem leventéknek hívták, hanem kisegítő előképzős ifjúnak. A leventeség azzal járt, hogy nekem leventeigazolványom volt, ami azt is jelentette, hogyha bárhol, bármikor igazoltattak, akkor a leventeigazolvánnyal igazoltam magam. Tehát azt bárhol felmutattam, akkor az eleve látszott, hogy ez a valaki keresztény. Ugyanis ha nem keresztény lenne, akkor az lett volna odaírva, hogy „kisegítő előképzős ifjú”. Ezzel én ragyogóan tudtam operálni. Sőt amikor rendeletbe hozták, hogy a zsidók sárga csillagos házba költözzenek [lásd: csillagos házak], én keresztényként költöztem a zsidó szülőkkel együtt. Mi a Visegrádi utca 25-ben, egy négyemeletes házban nyertünk elhelyezést. Weiner Ibi néni nevű rokonunk, aki ott lakott, mondta, hogy van egy nagy lakás, költözzünk oda hozzá! Van hely. Ekkor odaköltöztünk a Visegrádi utca 25-be. A nagyszülők, az anyám, a kis Laci és én. A nagybátyám [Schultheisz László] akkor már nem volt itthon, ő már munkaszolgálatos volt.

Ebben a házban természetesen keresztények is maradtak. Tehát nem csak csupa zsidók voltak, hanem keresztények is, akik nem akartak elköltözni. A keresztényeket nem kötelezték arra, hogy az elhagyott zsidó lakásokba menjenek, és elhagyják a csillagos házakat. Aki ment, ment, aki maradt, maradt. Én eleve úgy fogadtattam el magunkat, hogy én és az öcsém keresztények vagyunk. Az Endi keresztény az apja után és az öccse is. Erre lehetett hivatkozni. Ezt annyira természetesen mondtam, hogy mindenki elhitte.

A családunk abszolút zsidó volt, és együtt voltunk abban az első emeleti lakásban, ahová átköltözünk. De voltak ott maradt keresztény lakók is meg újonnan jöttek. Miután én se sárga csillagot [lásd: sárga csillag Magyarországon], se sárga karszalagot nem hordtam, engem nem tekintettek zsidónak. A nagyszüleim és az anyám nem mentek sehova. Ennivalóról is csak én gondoskodtam, és én mentem mindenhova. Én tartottam kapcsolatokat és így tovább. Szereztem svéd menlevelet is, schutzpasst [lásd: menlevél (Schutzpass)] anyáméknak meg mindenkinek. Még a nyáron. Később ez sem segített. A végén még én vittem be őket a gettóba [lásd: budapesti gettó].

A filmezés meg a színház 1943-ban maradt el. Bár akkor már egyre jobban alkalmaztak volna a filmnél, főszerepre is. Volt egy film, „A szív szava”, aminek a főszereplője lettem volna [Valószínűleg rosszul emlékszik vagy a film címére, vagy az évszámra, mert Bihari Alajos filmje, „A szív szava” 1937-ben készült. – A szerk.]. De miután nagyanyám járt velem, ott beszélgetés közben rákérdezett az ottani producer, hogy „A gyerek milyen vallású?”. Nagyanyám büszkén válaszolt: „Római katolikus.” Ám tovább kérdezett: „És ön?” Nagyanyám azt nem mondhatta erre, hogy „Én is.”. Ekkor azt mondta: „Kérem, én, izraelita vagyok.” Így mondta, hogy izraelita. A kérdező meghökkent, és azt mondta: „Akkor tessenek hazamenni, majd értesítjük! A munka úgyse most kezdődik, majd értesítjük.” Erre szoktam mondani, hogy a mai napig értesítenek. Tehát az életemnek ez a része így fejeződött be.

A nagyapám viszont azt mondta: „Miután a színészetet nem folytathatod, valami mást kell tanulni! Valamilyen szakmát tanulj!” És a nagyapám rátalált valahogy egy, a Lehel út 10/b-ben működő munkahelyre, amely a Mérőműszer Üzem volt. Ez elég nagy cég volt, ahol legalább nyolcvanan dolgoztunk. Nagyon jó helyre kerültem ott. Modern olasz gépek voltak, és sok mindent lehetett ott megtanulni. Érdekes módon, több gyerekkori haverom is dolgozott ott, így még haverok között is voltam. Boldogan mentem a Mérőműszer Üzembe. Ott dolgoztam 1943-tól 1946-ig.

A nagybátyám közben munkaszolgálatban volt. Hol írt, hol nem. Hol tudtunk, hol nem tudtunk róla. Arra emlékszem, hogy Hangonyba vonult be. Később átszökött az oroszokhoz, így ő Magyarországra az oroszokkal együtt jött. Felcser volt az oroszoknál. 1945 februárjában, a nagyapám halála után pár nappal érkezett meg.

Az öcsém, a kis Laci ott volt velem a Visegrádi utcában. A házba jöttek mindenféle új lakók, és én elhintettem köztük azt a gondolatsort, hogy mi árva gyerekek vagyunk. Nem számolhattam be arról, hogy az apám tulajdonképpen elvált az anyámtól már hároméves koromban, és a nagyanyámék meg az anyám most bent vannak a gettóban. Mindenki elfogadta ezt a magyarázatot, és azonosult is azzal, hogy árvagyerekek vagyunk, és a ház tart el minket. Ez volt a kulcsmondat. Tehát ha razziáztak, és megkérdeztek, én odaadtam a leventeigazolványomat, megnézték és kész.

Ebben az időben már mindenki ott aludt a pincében. Mi is állandóan ott voltunk. Igen ám! De az egyik razzia alkalmából a házfelügyelő, az úgynevezett házparancsnok a legnagyobb csodálkozásomra azt mondja: „Na! Itt van az a két zsidógyerek, az anyjuk bent van a gettóban.” Erre én: „Bocsánat! Mi nem vagyunk zsidók. Tessék, itt a papírom, és nem hamis papír ez. Mi nem vagyunk zsidók.” „És anyádék hol vannak?” – kérdezték. „A gettóban.” – feleltem. „Gyere ki velem!” – szólt a nyilas. Ki kellett mennem a pincefolyosóra: „Told le a gatyádat! Mért mondtad, hogy te nem vagy zsidó?” „Mert nem vagyok.” „Velünk jössz!” A Laci is, mondván, hogy mi árva gyerekek vagyunk, és mi nem hagyjuk el egymást. Na most ott már nem merték a lakók sem mondani, hogy „Csak hagyja itt!”. A nyilasokkal szembeszállni!? A szerencse az volt, hogy ezek, akik kihoztak a házból, átadtak egy másik csoportnak az utcán, a kapu előtt. Ezek így nem tudták, hogy mi zsidógyanúsként kerültünk oda. Ez egy óriási dolog volt, mert én erre építhettem azt, amit mindig is mondtam, hogy árva gyerekek vagyunk, és a ház tart el.

Bevittek minket a Szent István körút 2-be, a nyilasházba. Ott voltunk a pincében. Volt azonban egy nyilas főnök, aki egyszer, három nap után lejött a pincébe, és kikérdezett sorban mindenkit. Mindenki keresztény volt egyébként rajtunk kívül. Pontosabban volt egy nő, akinek akkora orra volt, hogy hiába mutatta, hogy ő keresztény, és a férje kint van a fronton. „Hát igen – mondták akkor –, de az orra!?” Ám akkor erre a nőre bízhattam az öcsémet, mert ha úgy adódik, hogy nekem mennem kell, ő vigyáz rá. Egy kicsit megnyugodtam. Ha minket szétszakítanának, akkor is lesz, aki figyel rá.

A pincéből munkára vittek el minket. A Rudolf téren [ma: Jászai Mari tér] kellett sírt ásni. Ma is megvan az a négy fa, amik között ástuk a sírt. Ott rengeteg halott zsidót kellett egy halomba tenni, akiket csak úgy agyonlődöztek. Azt mondták a nyilasok, hogy azért kell ásni a sírt, mert a mellettünk lévő cellában a zsidók tífuszt kaptak, és „kénytelenek” voltak agyonlőni őket. Bujkáló zsidók lehettek, akiket szintén ilyen razziák során szedtek össze. Amikor ott ástuk a sírt, nyilván a pónemomról lehetett látni, hogy én is valami biboldó lehetek, mert az egyik nyilas, aki szintén nem tudta, hogy kik azok, akiket idehoztak ásni, azt mondta: „Na, szép sírt ásol magadnak.” Mondom: „Én keresztény vagyok, minket mint keresztényeket azért hoztak ide, hogy így meg úgy meg amúgy” – sóderoltam. „Hagyd a francba!” – mondta egy másik, aki ott hallgatta a beszélgetést. És ekkor annyira elkezdtek lőni az oroszok a Margit-szigetre, hogy nem maradtunk kint, hanem újból bementünk a pincébe.

Egyszer csak jött egy nyilas. Valami főnök lehetett. Ő kezdte mondani, hogy „Álljatok sorba!”. És akkor sorba álltunk. Előttem is voltak emberek, akik mondták a magukét, hogy „Nézze, itt a papírunk”. Megnézte: „Azt a…!” Szóval felháborodott azon, hogy tényleg igazunk van. Itt valóban keresztények vannak csak. „Hogyhogy nem törődtek velünk?” „Én nem is tudtam rólatok!” – mondta. Amikor hozzám ért, megkérdezett: „És te mért vagy itt?” Mondom: „Mert állítólag nekem is be kellett volna vonulnom, holott még nem vagyok tizenhat éves.” Én csak 1945. május harmadikán leszek tizenhat éves. „És ez a gyerek itt?” – kérdezte. „Árvák vagyunk – mondtam –, nem hagyjuk el egymást, és nem maradt otthon az öcsém. Ő az öcsém, kérem!” Már hozzá nem is lépett, és akkor így végigment. Azt mondta: „Igen, ti mind keresztények vagytok, haza fogunk engedni titeket.” A „haza fogunk engedni”-re mindenki iszonyú ideges lett, mert vártuk, hogy mikor. Elment az egyik óra, elment a másik óra, de nem engedtek. És akkor a pasas azt mondta, hogy majd másnap leigazoljátok magatokat fönt. Eljött a másnap, és a Hollán mozi [Ma Odeon Lloyd mozi a Hollán Ernő utcában. – A szerk.] előterében felülvizsgálták a be nem vonultak indokait. Jómagam is igazoltam a még nem tizenhat éves koromat, és hazaengedtek. Ám az öcsém miatt aggódtam, mert ő ott maradt a nagy orrú nővel a nyilasházban. Hazafele menet ugyancsak lövöldöztek, de hazaérve, az öcskösöm már otthon volt, és a nagy orrú nőt hallgatva utólag is megnyugodtam, hogy a nyilasházban semmi problémája nem volt neki sem és az öcsémnek sem. Lényegében simán hazaértek.

A Visegrádi utcai házban volt egy őrnagy a családjával. Dekkolt. Ezt ott mindenki tudta, köztük én is: „Mit keres itt ilyen háborús időkben egy őrnagy a családjával?” Igen ám! Csakhogy ő mint őrnagy eleve úgy dolgozta be magát a házban, hogy ő a házparancsnok. Azt kell csinálni, amit ő mond. Engem is ugráltatott, küldött ide-oda. Söpörtetett, és minden túrót csináltatott velem. Ez a szemét visszaküldött a nyilasházba, miután már kiengedtek! Én mondtam: „Most jöttem a nyilasházból, elengedtek, mert nem vagyok zsidó.” „Igazoljam!” „Igazoljam!” – ismételgette. „Menj és igazoltasd!” Tehát igazoljam azt, amit mondok, de papíron. Hozzak egy igazolást, hogy engem tényleg elengedtek.

Kétségbe voltam esve, mit csináljak? Most voltam ott, s talán még emlékszik rám az a valaki, akinél tisztáztam magam. El kell menni – határoztam. Még egyszer bementem a nyilasházba. Azt hittem, megőrülök. A kapunál is azt mondja az őr: „Mit akarsz itt?” Mondom: „Mit tudom én, visszaküldött a házparancsnokunk. Itt voltam, igen, de nem vagyok katonaköteles satöbbi, satöbbi.” „Jó, menj!” Fölmegyek az emeletre, ott is bementem az egyik helyre, és szintén mondom, hogy ki és miért küldött. Mire a pasas: „Mondd meg az őrnagy úrnak, hogy mi erre nem vagyunk berendezkedve. Ha mi erre be lennénk rendezkedve, akkor hosszú sorok állnának itt.” „Értettem. Kérek engedélyt távozni! „Kitartás!” „Kitartás!” Itt ez volt a köszönés [Vagy: „Kitartás! Szálasi!” – A szerk.]. Megyek le, és jön velem szembe egy nyilas. Abban a házban ugye csak nyilasok voltak. Rám néz, és azt mondja: „Te zsidó vagy.” Mondom: „Én? Most jöttem ki az ellenőrzésről.” „Gyere vissza!” Visszamentem ehhez a pasashoz, és ez a következőt mondta: „Hagyd a francba! Mit szórakozol? Annyi dolgunk van itt. Ilyesmivel szórakozol? Menj el!” És kész! A pasas ott maradt, én meg lementem. Kint az őr még ugyanaz volt, elkérte, amit kell. Mentem haza. Odamentem az őrnagyhoz. „Őrnagy úr! Alázatosan jelentem, ezt meg ezt mondták.” Mi nem vagyunk arra berendezkedve satöbbi. Azt mondja az őrnagy: „Biztos ez?” „Igen, persze, biztos.” „Igaz ez?” „Igaz.” „Tudod, mi jár azért, ha nem mondasz igazat?” „Tudom.” „Mi?” „Főbelövés.” „Az.” Megfordult, és otthagyott. Attól kezdve nem foglalkozott velem.

Egyik nap megjelentek a ruszkik a pincénkben és másutt is, mindenütt. Oroszul kérdezték: „Vengerszki, nyemecki szoldat? Nyet?” Mindenki meg volt ijedve. Ám ezek csak mentek tovább. Én meg mentem utánuk, kellő távolságban. Amikor láttam, hogy a körúton már túlmentek, akkor egyszerűen odamentem a gettóhoz, és csodálkozva láttam, hogy a gettó már nyitva volt. Abban a házban találtam meg a családomat, ahova bevittem őket. Ez óriási nagy dolog volt, pláne, hogy nem vittek el tőlünk senkit se. Anyámat se, pedig őt kellett leginkább félteni, mert ő volt a fiatalabb. De hát ott voltak. A nagyanyám: „Jaj, Endikém így, jaj, Endikém úgy!” – örvendezett. Akkor láttam, hogy a nagyfaternek milyenek a lábai. Megdagadt iszonyatosan, menni sem tudott. Egy általam lécekből eszkábált szánkóval húztuk haza, a Visegrádi utcába.

A bejött oroszokkal nem volt semmi bajunk. Mondják, hogy megerőszakoltak nőket. De például nálunk, a házban, aki nem hagyta magát, azt nem tudták megerőszakolni. Ezt láttam a saját szememmel. Amikor hallottam a földszinten egy nőt sikoltozni, és tudtam, hogy egyedülálló nő, és egy ruszki meg akarja kefélni, én kirohantam az utcára patrulért. A patrul a katonai rendőr elnevezése volt. „Ruszki szoldat” – kiabáltam, és mutattam a kezemmel, hogy mi zajlik éppen. Nekik nyilván ki volt adva parancsba, hogy nem szabad ilyet csinálni. És jöttek, beordítottak a lakásba hogy nyissák ki, meg mit tudom én. Az erőszakoskodó ruszki, nyilván annyira el volt foglalva a dulakodásban, hogy nem hallotta a bekiabálást. Erre: „Prrr!”, lőttek. Kinyílt az ajtó, s elkapták. Hát azt hittem, hogy agyonrúgják. De aztán a lakosok kiabáltak: „Ne, hát ne ennyire! Ne ennyire!” De borzalmasan összerugdosták ezt a katonát, végül a magyarok mentették meg.

Nem sokkal később történt, hogy valaki mondhatta az oroszoknak az őrnagyos esetemet a házból, mert már hazahoztam a gettóból a nagyszülőket és anyámat. Épp mentem valami kaját szerezni, és amikor hazaértem, azt mondják: „Te Endi! Mit csináltál? Kerestek az oroszok.” Kérdeztem, miért? „Nem tudom, mit akarnak” – mondta a nagyanyám. „De hát nem csináltam semmit.” Akkor mondta, hogy hova menjek. Odamentem. Nagyon rendesen foglalkozott velem egy magyar, aki tolmácsolt. Kérdezte, hogy ismerem-e ezt meg ezt az őrnagyot? Mondom: „Persze, hogyne ismerném.” „Ő küldött téged a nyilasházba?” „Igen.” Akkor: „Mondd el, hogy mi volt!” Elmondtam, hazamentem. Nagyanyámék örültek, hogy az oroszok nem fogtak ott. Hogy mi történt az őrnaggyal, azt nem tudom.

Egyik nap mondtam az oroszoknak, hogy a mellettünk lévő házban, az első emeleten van egy ÉLO raktár. Az ÉLO azt jelenti, hogy élelmi-szerelosztó raktár. Katonai. Mondtam nekik, hogy rengeteg kaja van ott. Már mentek is. Nem kérdezősködtek semmit, feltörték az ajtót. Csak néztük. Rengeteg liszt nagy zacskókban s mindenféle kaja. Emlékszem, volt még egy nagy tábla cipőtalp is, amivel a cipészek dolgoznak. De mekkora! Rengeteg kaját is vittem haza. Gyorsan szaladtam, hogy még ezek ott legyenek, amikor én visszamegyek. Visszamentem, és vittem a sok kaját. „Endi! Hát honnan?” – kérdezték. Mondtam a nagyanyámnak, hogy ez egy katonai raktár volt, és az oroszok stb.…, de szaladtam is vissza. Akkor már megnyugodtak. Volt itt minden, rengeteg kaja. Azt is tudtam, hogy nekem vinni kell a talpat is. Nem azért, hogy a mi cipőinknek legyen, hanem eladni legyen mit. Ekkor fogtam, és összekötöttem vagy négyet-ötöt is, így marha nehéz volt. A hátamra tettem, és vittem. Nem tudom, miért jött az agyamba, hogy nem tartom ezt otthon, hanem a Dózsa György úton van valaki, nem tudom, kicsodám, s elviszem oda. Majd nála tárolom, amíg el nem adjuk. Ezt a nehéz terhet a Ferdinánd hídon cipeltem át, végig a Podmaniczky utcán. Tovább a Dózsa György [Aréna] úton, az István útig. Már majdnem ott voltam, ahova vinni akartam, amikor egy ruszki teherautó megállt előttem, s két ruszki leszállt. Mutatnak a talpakra. Elvették, föltették az autóra, és már mentek is tovább. „A kurva életbe! – mérgelődtem. Legalább a Visegrádi utcában történt volna ez, vagy az Andrássy útnál! Idáig elcipeltem ezt a sok szart, és akkor ezek elzabrálták.” Mérgesen néztem ide-oda. De aztán arra gondoltam, én is zabráltam, engem is zabráltak. Ez történt. Pedig jó dohány lett volna! Mindegy, hazamentem.

Szegény nagyfaterom otthon halt meg, nem sokkal az után, hogy hazahoztam őket a gettóból. Még a Visegrádi utcában. Pár nappal utána jött haza a nagybátyám. Még javában tartott Pest ostroma, amikor ő már Hajdúszoboszlón élt pár hónapja. 1945 tavaszától mindig oda jártunk kajáért [lásd: feketézés, cserekereskedelem]. A nagybátyám szomorúan mondta: „Ha én itthon lettem volna, akkor az apám nem hal meg.” Bár én is szereztem gyógyszert, de nem tudta megmenteni a nagyapámat. Ott aludtam én is abban a kis szobában, ahol ő volt, hogyha valami kell neki, vagy nyöszörög, akkor tudjak éjszaka is fölkelni hozzá. Aztán, szegénykém, egyszer, amikor éppen elmentem kajáért, mire visszamentem, már mondták: „Endi, meghalt nagyapa.” Kész. Kihúztuk a Kerepesi temető zsidó részébe. (Én addig nem tudtam, hogy ott van zsidó temető.) A ruszkik nemhogy megállítottak volna menet közben, hanem mindegyik ránk szólt, mert sapkában voltunk, és mutogatták, hogy a sapkát vegyük le, mert a halott miatt nem lehet sapkában lenni [A keresztény „illem” megköveteli, hogy a férfiak fedetlen fővel kísérjék a halottat. – A szerk.].

Semmi nem volt kinn a temetőben. Rabbi se persze! A nagyapám korábban mindig mondta, hogyha ő meghal, a fia képét tegyem a kezébe, így a mellére, és azzal temessék el. Így is tettem. Pár napra rá hazajött a nagybátyám, és ezt is elmeséltük neki. Akkor azonnal kimentünk a temetőbe, mert még látni akarta az apját. Mondtam neki, hogy már valószínűleg eltemették, mert ott már rengeteg koporsó volt. A nagyapámé nyitott koporsó volt, csak egy lepedővel volt letakarva, mert nem volt arra pénzem, hogy bármit is rátegyek. Ládát is valamelyik pincéből tudtam szerezni. Ez egy koporsószerű láda volt, úgyhogy abba bele tudtam fektetni a nagyapát. Így is találtunk rá, még nem temették el. Én is megdöbbentem, mivel ott volt kint a levegőn – szabályos, rendes színe volt. Még a szakálla is nőtt. De természetesen halott volt. Egy sírba akkor kilenc halottat temettek. Nagyapám középre került.

Anyámhoz, nagyanyámhoz kijárok, mert ott vannak a Kozma utcában. Oda egy évben kétszer biztosan megyek, tavasszal meg ősszel. Nagyapámhoz nem, de sokszor gondolok rá. Jó ember volt.

A nagypapa halála után, amikor a nagybátyám már itthon volt, elintézte, hogy saját, önálló lakásunk legyen. Abba a házba, ahonnét a Visegrádiba mentünk, már nem költözhettünk vissza. A vele szemben lévő lányiskola melletti 47-es házban szerzett egy háromszobás lakást, ott, a Bajza utcában. Egy zsidó család elhagyott lakását igényelte ki. Valószínű, hogy valamit fizetett is a nagybátyám, mert abból a családból csak egyetlen személy, egy felnőtt lány maradt meg, akié a lakás volt. A nagybátyám azt kiutaltatta nekünk. Voltunk rá öten. Így ezt a háromszobás lakást minden további nélkül kiutalták nekünk. Attól kezdve ott laktunk. Jómagam is, amíg meg nem nősültem, 1950-ben.

A nagyanyám otthon a háztartást vezette. Anyám változatlanul a Pluma Paplangyárban dolgozott, ami újranyílt, és egészen 1953-ig dolgozott ott. Azután pedig otthon maradt. A nagybátyám volt a fő kereső, a családfenntartó. Volt állása, üzletkötő, kereskedő volt. A nagybátyám egy rendkívül ügyes ember volt. Üzletelt. De naponta is dolgozott egy barátjánál, akinek nagy vasáruüzlete volt a Podmaniczky utcában. Később a külkerben is dolgozott. Minden helyzetben feltalálta magát. Érdekes módon egyetlen nyelvet beszélt, a franciát, de ezzel mindig, mindenütt elérte azokat az ismerősöket, új embereket, akik tudták őt segíteni a dolgokban. Mindenféle munkát adtak neki, és elintézett mindent. A háború után magyarosította a nevét Schultheiszről Simaira. Akkor már tudta, hogy itt marad Magyarországon, és nem megy vissza Franciaországba. 1978-ban halt meg, és ő is a Kozma utcai zsidó temetőben lett eltemetve.

Én visszamentem a Mérőműszer üzembe dolgozni. A szakmát ki kellett tanulnom, tehát oda jártam be naponta. Egy darabig az oroszoknak dolgozott a cég, de ez a mindennapi munkában nem jelentett nekünk semmit. Ott voltam 1946-ig, és aztán elmentem máshova dolgozni. Nem volt különösebb indoka, csak már nem akartam ott maradni. Kerestem másik helyet. Így kerültem az Erőátviteli és Világítási Rt.-hez, ami akkor a Csengery utcában volt a VI. kerületben [Erőátviteli és Világítási Rt. (ERVTL) – 1921-ben alapította Dr. Lénárt Sándor és Dr. Szilas Oszkár, a hazai kisfeszültségű készülékgyártás megalapozója. A cég az Aradi utcában működött (Dr. Simándi Péter). – A szerk.]. Én a szakmát olyan helyen tanultam, hogy egyszerre lettem esztergályos, marós és géplakatos, vagyis sokoldalú vasas. Tehát bármilyen munkában, amelyet e szakmákban kerestek, én el tudtam helyezkedni. Erre a munkahelyre is fölvettek esztergályosnak, de amikor az első napon kiderült, hogy esztergályosra nincs is szükségük, nem bocsátottak el. Beosztottak egy elektromos transzformátorokat készítő műhelyrészlegbe, hogy dolgozzam ott, majd betanítanak. Így is történt. Csináltam a dolgokat.

A munkám mellett a lakókörzetemben párttag lettem. A kommunista pártba jelentkeztem, még 1945-ben. Érdekes módon, ez a miatt volt bennem, merthogy az oroszok szabadítottak fel minket. Az is hatott rám e vonatkozásban, hogy a tanoncok között volt egy vezető tanonc, akit úgy hívtak, hogy Bojcsuk Vladimir. Ő magyar gyerek volt, Kárpátaljáról jött. Később közismert ember lett mint a mindenkori honvédelmi miniszter első számú tolmácsa. Persze amit a Vladó csinált, és ahova ő tartozott, természetesen odatartoztunk mi is. Tízen vagy tizenketten voltunk tanoncok, de mindannyiunknak a Vladó volt a példaképe. Egyrészt azért, mert rendkívül okos volt, másrészt ő volt a legidősebb is. Nagyon sokáig, egészen a haláláig barátok voltunk, de akkor már rég katonatiszt volt, ezredes.

Amikor beléptem a lakóhelyem szerinti pártalapszervezetbe, a barátok is mind beléptek a kommunista pártba. Attól kezdve, mint fiatal kommunisták, ott szerveztük a szabadidőnket. Nem a politikai életet, mert különösebben nem politizált ez a fiatal csoport, de büszkén vallottuk, hogy kommunista ifik vagyunk. Minden nap tudtunk találkozni, és mint egy klubban, tettük a magunkét.

Adtak a pártban ilyen-olyan füzetet, és akkor láthattuk és megtudhattuk, hogy mi van ott, mik az elvek. Más okítás vagy fejtágítás nem igazán volt. Részt vettünk ugyanakkor az újjáépítésben, romeltakarításban. A munkahelyek környékét rögtön meg kellett csinálni. Volt olyan is, amit ez a fiatal pártcsoport szervezett, például a mellettünk lévő ház udvarát mi tettük rendbe.

Otthon nem szóltak ebbe bele, hogy milyen jól tettem a pártba lépést, vagy egyáltalán miért léptem be.

Az inflációból néhány dologra emlékszem csak. Például, hogy zsákszámra vittük a pénzt haza [lásd: millpengős korszak]. Ebben az időben az volt, hogy péntekenként kaptunk fizetést. Tehát minden héten egyszer. De amikor a főnökség meg a szakszervezeti emberek is látták, hogy így nem jó, mert mire megkapjuk a fizetést, már nem ér semmit, akkor élelmiszerrel fizettek. Emlékeim szerint, a fizetés nagyobb részét élelmiszerekben kaptuk; zsírt, lisztet s a legfőbb alapanyagokat. Egy kis részét pénzben, hogy pénzünk is legyen vásárolni. Ezt is túléltük.

Ebben az időben – elvi okokból – munkásgyerekekből, munkásfiatalokból kiemeltek néhányat. Miután értelmesnek, tevékenynek találtak, 1950 júliusában kiemeltek a külkereskedelembe, a NIKEX-hez (Nehézipari Külkereskedelmi Export-Import), a Dorottya utcába. Az eredeti foglalkozásom szerint az ottani vezetők úgy gondolták, hogy mivel vasas vagyok, valami ezzel kapcsolatos osztályra helyezzenek. A szerszámgépexport osztály vezetőjével beszéltek, hogy foglalkozzon velem. Ez egy hajdani báró volt, aki természetesen a bárói rangját már nem használta. Olyan harmincöt év körüli ember volt, és tipikus megtestesítője – magatartásban és beszédben is – a bárki által elképzelt bárónak. Tényleg raccsolt is. Így beszélt hozzám. „Tedves Tolleda úr! – mondta –, maga csak nézegessen itt…!” Régi emberként a szaktudása kitűnő volt, több nyelven beszélt, s külkeres volt azelőtt is, és meghagyták ott vezetőnek. Igen rendes volt, sokat utaztam vele mindenfelé. Mindig mondta, hogy „Tolleda úr! Nézegessen, nézegessen, és lesse el a szakmát!” Én meg lesegettem. De én mint melós nem szoktam azt meg, hogy csak lesegessek, hogy nem csinálok semmit, csak lesegessek. Akkor bementem hozzá, és mondtam, hogy „Kedves Kollega úr! Én már nem bírom ezt a lesegetést, én dolgozni akarok. Nekem ez nulla”. És akkor kaptam tőle munkát.

Érdekes módon, jóformán kilencven százalékban fiatalok dolgoztak a cégnél. Hasonlók, mint én. Egy kicsivel esetleg idősebbek voltak, de úgy alakult, hogy jóban lettünk egymással, és adtak a véleményemre. Talán ennek következménye volt az is, hogy 1950 júliusában megválasztottak DISZ-titkárnak. Egy héten egyszer, pénteki napon mindig volt DISZ-gyűlés. Nem emlékszem már, hogy miket csináltunk. Végül is rövid ideig voltam csak titkár, mert 1950 őszén eljött az az időszak, amikor nekem be kellett vonulni katonának. Ám előtte nyáron még elküldtek tovább tanulni külkeriskolába. Ez bentlakásos továbbképző szakiskola volt. Nyelvet tanultunk és a szakmát, a külkereskedelmet. Ez pár hónapig tartott, s ősszel már végeztem is. Abban az időben gyorsan ment minden. Fél év alatt kiemeltek, DISZ-titkár lettem, és elvégeztem egy főiskolát. Volt, aki bírta ezt a gyorsaságot, volt, aki nem. Ahhoz, hogy mint külkeres dolgozzon valaki, és ne esztergályos módon álljon a külkereskedelemhez, ahhoz kellett ez a tanfolyam, melyen rengeteg anyagot adtak le. Nagyon jó tanuló voltam elejétől fogva. Megjegyzem, én egész életemben mindig tanultam valamit. Persze egy idő után az is kialakul az emberben, hogy érdeklődő lesz minden iránt.

Az az igazság, hogy zsidó vallású 1948-ban lettem újból. Erről papírom is van. Háromszor jelentkeztem, és visszafogadott a közösség. Ez volt az előírás a zsidóknál, ha komolyan zsidó akart lenni valaki. Többször kellett jelentkezni, és végül, amikor harmadszorra mentem, elfogadták a jelentkezést, és adtak papírt. Tehát visszatértem a zsidó hitre. Egyszerűen azért, mert én végül is zsidó tudatú ember voltam fiatalon is. Ugyanakkor végigéltem a zsidó sorsot is, azzal együtt, hogy én ügyes voltam, és szerencsés is, hogy ezt az időt nem a gettóban, hanem azon kívül úsztam meg. Anyámék persze nagyon örültek a zsidóságomnak. Nemcsak a vallásosság miatt, hanem ebben benne volt az, hogy ezt az apám elleni lépésnek is tartották. Dacára annak, hogy ekkor már végleg semmi közünk nem volt az apánkhoz. Mégis ez nekik nagyon sokat jelentett.

A zsidóságom és a párttagság nagyon megfértek egymás mellett. Szóba sem kerül sosem, hogy ki milyen vallású. A pártban olyan szellemiség uralkodott, hogy mindig a közösségért dolgoztunk. Ha probléma volt a körzetben a kerületi lakosságot érintően is, akkor biztos, hogy mint ifik az elsők között voltunk, akik segítettek. Én a legjobbakat tudom mondani az akkori kommunistákról.

Valamivel később egy másik pártalapszervezetbe kezdtünk járni. Engem mindenhol kedveltek, mert akkor én már több országos táncversenyt nyertem a partneremmel, és bárhol megjelentem, megrohantak a lányok: „Bandi, velem táncolj! Velem táncolj!” S „hadakoztak” értem. Amúgy naponta jártunk a Szinyei Merse utcai pártalapszervezetbe. Az azzal szemben lévő házban laktak a későbbi feleségem és a testvérei meg az édesanyjuk. Ez a ház egy abszolút proliház volt. Tafler-háznak nevezték, ahol ötszáz ember lakott nyolcvan lakásban. Tulajdonképpen először a mutter, vagyis a négy testvér édesanyja járt át a pártba. Egyszer csak kiderült, hogy van három lánya, ami a srácok között nagy lehetőséget jelentett. Egyszer meghívtuk őket, hogy nézzék meg, itt milyen mulatságok vannak. Egyszóval beszerveztük őket.

Ekkortól kezdtem el udvarolgatni a feleségemnek. Körülbelül két év után a mutter azt mondta: „Rendezzétek le! Se ő ne tartson fel téged, se te őt!”. Mondtam Klárának, házasodjunk össze! 1950-ben meg is volt az esküvőnk. A hatodik kerületi elöljáróságon volt a ceremónia. Az egész külker osztály ott volt az esküvőnkön, és még sokan mások is a baráti körömből.

A feleségem nem zsidó származású. De kettőnk között nem volt gond abból, hogy én zsidó vagyok, ő meg nem. Az én családomnál némiképp… Ott is csak annyi volt, hogy a fiúgyerekhez a szülők jobban ragaszkodnak, mint a lánygyerekhez. Ha egy lányt elvisznek, akkor vigyék. Egy fiú viszont kereső is, meg egyáltalán! Elsősorban a nagyanyám volt oda, és amit a nagyanyám csinált vagy mondott, ugyanazt csinálta anyám is, ha egyetértett vele, ha nem. El se jöttek az esküvőnkre, és csak akkor ismerkedtek meg a Klárával, amikor a nagyobbik fiam megszületett, 1952-ben. Nem fogadták később rosszul, és menyüknek tekintették. A nagyanyám ellenzése azért is volt – dacára annak, hogy nem ismerték Klárát –, merthogy a „Tafler-ház”. „A Tafler-házból nősülsz?” – kérdezte elítélően. Ez a ház amúgy nagyon érdekes volt: a földszinten az abszolút lumpenprolik laktak. Az első emeleten már nem annyira. A második emeleten – nem azért, mert a Kláráék is ott laktak – lakott a becsülhető melósréteg. De hát az öreganyám nem tett ilyen különbséget! A Tafler-ház, az Tafler-ház. Az igaz, ha valahol késeltek vagy betörtek, akkor olyan razziák voltak ott, hogy csak na! Minden betörőt meg rablót ott kerestek elsősorban.

Az esküvőnket úgy kellett megoldani, hogy két nagy csoportban hívtunk vendégeket. Egyszer a kollégák jöttek, utána a másik csoportban a rokonság jött. A lakásban tartottuk meg, ahonnan minden ki lett hordva. Csak az asztalok és a székek maradtak benn. Persze a szomszédok is adtak székeket, asztalokat, hogy a sokaság elférjen.

Egyszer csak eljött 1950 ősze, amikor már aktuális lett a bevonulásom. A NIKEX-nél négy embert kértek a HM-től [Honvédelmi Minisztérium], hogy mentsenek föl, vagy legalábbis halasztást kapjunk minimum egy évre a bevonulás alól. Azon kezdtem el spekulálni, hogy jó, jó, most fölmentenek, de mi lesz egy év múlva? Akkor egy év múlva fogok újból bevonulni? Egyelőre jártam az iskolába, miközben minden haverom, akikkel együtt voltam melósgyerek, mind bevonult, és fűzték az agyamat, hogy „Gyere te is! Mit vacakolsz? Ott vagyunk a tiszti iskolán, ami hat hónapos. Ráadásul neked van előképzettséged, iskolád a külkerből, ami biztos előny. Akkor felavatnak tisztnek, és nem leszel kiskatona. Felavatnak, és akkor szerelsz le, amikor akarsz.” Elgondolkoztam… hoppá! Jelentkeztem, és bevonultam.

Elvégeztem a tiszti iskolát. A végén nem alhadnagynak, nem hadnagynak, hanem főhadnagynak avattak. A Kilián Laktanyába jártam. Kevés gyakorlat volt, valami menetelés, kevés lövészet, ilyesmik. Olyan gyorsan ment ez is, hogy 1950 novemberében kezdtem, és már 1951. március-áprilisban avattak. Miután felavattak tisztnek, lehelyeztek Tatára, a Páncélos Tiszti Iskolába, ahol tanszékvezető-helyettes lettem a társadalomtudományi tanszéken. Közben az alapszakom maradt a politikai gazdaságtan, és így politikai gazdaságtant tanítottam elsősorban. Később leköltöztünk Tatára, és ezután születtek a gyerekeink is: 1952-ben Péter és 1954-ben Tamás. A feleségem a tatai DISZ-nél volt titkár, majd később a tatai tanácsnál vállalt állást, ahol személyzetis [lásd: „személyzetis”] volt.

1955-ben jöttünk fel Tatáról, és a Katonai Politikai Akadémiára kerültem [Petőfi Sándor Katonai Politikai Akadémia –1948-ban alakult a Honvéd Kossuth Akadémia keretein belül működött Nevelő Tiszti Tanfolyam felhasználásával. Neve először Honvéd Petőfi Nevelőtisztképző Akadémia, 1949. márciustól Honvéd Petőfi Akadémia, 1949. októbertől Honvéd Petőfi Politikai Tisztképző Intézet. Feladata kezdetben a nevelőtisztek, 1949-től a politikai tisztek képzése volt. 1956. december 11-én beolvadt a Zrínyi Miklós Katonai Akadémiába. Egyik forrásunk /www.zmne.hu/Forum/98apr/muzeum.htm/  szerint neve ekkor Petőfi Sándor Katonai Politikai Akadémia volt. – A szerk.]. Ez továbbképzés volt politikai gazdaságtan és hasonló tárgyakból. Mindennap hazajártam. Reggel bementem, este hazajöttem. Ott voltam az Akadémián, amikor a forradalom kitört, 1956-ban [lásd: 1956-os forradalom]. Már előzőleg lehetett tudni az újságokból, a közhangulatból, hogy fölrótták a pártnak a sok elkövetett hibát, a terrorista cselekményeket, pereket. Mi is kivonultunk tüntetni a Bem térre még huszonharmadikán, napközben, de azt nem gondoltuk, hogy ebből forradalmat kell csinálni, csak bizonyos dolgokon változtatni kellene. Hazajöttem. Este lementünk sétálni. Igen, október huszonharmadikán este, a feleségem és én. Amikor elérkeztünk a Bajcsy-Zsilinszky út sarkára, egy nagy tömeg jött velünk szemben. Kiáltoztak, hogy „megyünk a Rádióhoz”. Akkor valaki a tömegből, illetve többen is kiváltak, és a Sztálin útjelző táblákat szedték le a falakról [Az 1877-ben elkészült és 1885-ig Sugárútnak nevezett Andrássy utat (amely a Bajcsy-Zsilinszky útnál kezdődik) 1949/50 és 1956 között Sztálin útnak, 1956 októberétől Magyar Ifjúság útjának, 1957-től 1990-ig Népköztársaság útjának hívták. 1990 óta ismét Andrássy út. – A szerk.]. Mi meg csak néztük a dolgokat. Egyszer csak a hátunk mögül lövések dördültek el, de nem láttuk, hogy ki lő. Biztos az Erzsébet térnél [akkor: Engels tér] megtámadták a kapitányságot – gondoltuk. Itt volt akkor az Országos és a Budapesti [Rendőr] Főkapitányság is. Ekkor gyorsan hazamentünk.

A honvédségnél van egy fontos elv. Ha úgynevezett rendkívüli esemény van az utcákon, akkor be kell vonulni az alakulathoz. Akárhol vagy, indulni kell, és kész. Ha vidéken lettem volna, akkor is el kellett volna indulni vissza, Pestre, és be az alakulathoz. Természetesen bementem az Akadémiára. Mi mindnyájan benn voltunk, de sehova sem mentünk. Az ottani parancsnok kijelölt nyolc embert, ami azt jelentette, hogy az Akadémia minden oldalára két-két ember jutott. Föl voltunk fegyverkezve, de nem csináltunk semmit, és nem is gondoltuk, hogy közbe kellene avatkoznunk valamibe. Mi nem lőttünk senkire se, és ránk se lőttek.

Egyszer tesztelték a felkelők az Akadémiát. Jött egy páncélozott autó, amire rá volt írva, hogy felkelők. Arra voltak kíváncsiak, hogy az Akadémia tisztjei kihez álltak. Ha lövünk rájuk, mert az van kiírva, hogy felkelők, akkor nem velük vagyunk. Ha nem lövünk rájuk, akkor ugyan nem biztos, hogy velük vagyunk, de mindenesetre jöhetnek tárgyalni. Nem lőttek rájuk, de amikor már mentek volna vissza, akkor az egyik fa mögül az egyik tiszt kézigránátot dobott a kocsi alá. Az rögtön föl is robbant, a bent ülők mind kiborultak a kocsiból. Senki nem halt meg, sebesült sem volt, egyszerűen csak kiborultak a kocsiból. És akkor azok, akik akkor kint voltak tisztek, elkapták ezeket. Nem bántották őket, csak behozták kihallgatásra. Innen tudom – bár én a kihallgatáson nem voltam ott –, hogy semmit nem akartak, csak azért jöttek, mert azt akarták tudni, hogy az Akadémia hol áll… El is engedték ezeket. Az Akadémia semelyik oldalon sem állt. Mi ott csendben voltunk, folyamatosan, semmit sem csináltunk. Egy hétig haza sem jöttem.

Egy hét elteltével az Akadémián egyszer csak azt mondták: „Menjetek haza, és jelentkezzetek a kerületi Kiegészítő Parancsnokságon!” Hazajöttem, és elkezdtem gondolkozni. Itt, az ötödik kerületben nem ismerek senkit. Fogalmam sincs az itteniekről. Én hatodik kerületinek éreztem magam, tehát elmentem a hatodik kerületi Kiegészítő Parancsnokságra. Ott valahogy káosz volt. Amikor mondtuk, hogy az Akadémiáról jöttünk, a Politikai Akadémiáról, nem tartottak ránk igényt. Hazajöttünk, és kész. Attól kezdve itthon voltam. Én már nem mentem vissza az Akadémiára. Később, amikor a szovjetek fegyveresen leverték a forradalmat, a rádión keresztül jött a felhívás, hogy akik az Akadémián tisztek, azok jelentkezzenek a munkahelyükön. Akkor én visszamentem az Akadémiára. Óriási nagygyűlés volt, hiszen rengetegen tanultak ott, legalább hatszázan vagy nyolcszázan. Akkor a HM-ből, aki kijött, eligazítást tartott, és mondhatom, hogy nem pocskondiázta a forradalmat vagy a forradalmárokat. Teljesen nyugodt volt. Arról beszélt, hogy a katonaság elképzelése szerint milyen lesz. Továbbá azt mondta, hogy aki akar, az most minden indoklás nélkül leszerelhet, mert nem lesz, csak egy kis hadsereg. Nálam az volt a döntő elhatározás lényege, hogy én nem akarok újból vidékre kerülni. Végre itt vagyok Pesten, s épphogy csak fölkerültem Tatáról. Igaz, hogy a lakásunk csak társbérlet volt, de a társbérletnek a nagyobbik része a mienk. Tőlünk is függ, hogy a társbérlővel hogy és mint jövünk ki. Ebből a meggondolásból úgy határoztam, hogy leszerelek. Nem egy katona típusú ember vagyok. Tanultam, és tanítottam, tehát olyan mindegy, hogy ezt most katonaruhában teszem vagy nem. Nem volt semmi probléma, odamentem, és leszereltem. Kihúzták a nevem a listáról. Akkor már százados voltam, mert közben még előléptettek. Külföldre való elmenésre nem gondoltunk.

Ezek után mindenképpen munkát és pénzt kellett keresnem. Igaz, kéthavi fizetéssel engedtek el, ami azért jelentős pénz volt. Kétszer ötezer vagy hatezer forint. De már hamarabb el kell helyezkedni, mielőtt elfogyna. Mindenféle munkát vállaltam, kétkezi, fizikai munkát is. Dolgoztam a Szerszámgépgyárban esztergályosként, százhúsz-százharminc százalékokat tudtam teljesíteni két hét után. Azonban egyszer csak valakik elterjesztették, hogy ez az ember az Akadémiáról jött, politikai tiszt volt [Politikai tiszteket – komisszárokat – először az oroszországi polgárháború idején rendszeresítettek a Vörös Hadseregben: a Vörös Hadseregben szolgálatot teljesítő volt cári tisztek mellé kirendelt, politikailag megbízható civil megbízottak voltak. Joguk volt a parancsnok intézkedéseit felülbírálni, vagy akár az illető leváltását kezdeményezni. A poszt állandósult. A komisszár-rendszert meghonosították a Magyar Néphadseregben is, zászlóaljtól felfelé minden egységben volt politikai tiszt. – A szerk.], és fenyegető üzeneteket kaptam. Erre jobbnak láttam, ha nem maradok ott, és eljöttem onnan két vagy három hét után. Pedig jó munka volt, és szerettem is ott dolgozni.

Ezek után jött az énekesi pályafutásom. Tulajdonképpen még a hatodik kerületből és az ottani pártszervezetből, illetve annak az ismeretségi köréből nagyon jóban voltam Garai Imrével, és haláláig barátok voltunk [Garai Imre (1905–1969) – táncdalszerző. Négy évig Franciaországban élt. Dalait először párizsi kabarékban énekelték. Hazatérése után két operett („Hajrá Hollywood”; „Kétszínű szerelem”) és több mint ötszáz táncdala révén vált ismertté (MÉL). – A szerk.]. Ő volt az egyik legnagyobb slágerszerző, az „Apu hogy megy be az a nagy elefánt?” című slágert is ő írta. Át szoktam menni hozzá, és beszélgettünk. Ő elkezdte mondani, hogy „Ne viccelj! Te színészgyerek voltál! Színházban és más színpadon is dolgoztál. Menj el a Turán Lászlóhoz!” [Turán László (1917–1984) – zongoraművész. Ezrével komponálta, hangszerelte, átdolgozta a mindennapi népszerű zenei szükségletet kielégítő alkotásokat (MÉL). – A szerk.] Turán László az egyik legjobb zongoraművész volt. De ő tanította az összes énekest. A legjobbakat is, kivétel nélkül. Ő korrepetálta, ő tanította őket. „Itt lakik, az Izabella utcában, menj el oda, és ha jónak talál, akkor foglalkozik veled, ha nem talál jónak, úgyse fog tanítani.” Na jó. Elmentem a Turánhoz, mondtam, hogy a Garai Imre küldött: „Hallgasson meg, Tanár úr!” Egyelőre ismerkedtünk, éneklés nélkül. Igent mondott. A legelső szám, amit betanított, a „Nekünk találkozni kellett!” [Bágya András szerzeménye. Bágya András (1911–1992) – zeneszerző, színpadi művekhez és filmekhez írt zenét, több operett és számtalan táncdal szerzője. – A szerk.]. Tőle tanultam meg, hogyan kell magyarul énekelni, mint ahogy most rengetegen nem. Ott voltam az élvonalban, de sztár nem lettem, ezért, azért, amazért, de hát végül is egy ideig ebből éltem.

Egyből kaptam előadói engedélyt, és rendes előadó-művészi működési engedéllyel dolgoztam. Vizsgázni kellett a zenész szakszervezetnél és az ORI-ban is [Országos Hangversenyrendező Iroda]. Ők szervezték az úgynevezett nagy műsorokat, és be lehetett jutni oda is. Ott megismerték az embert, és kiküldték a meghívásokat. Telefonáltak vagy írtak. Ott úgy volt, hogy az énekesek, szövegírók, táncdalszerzők az egész délelőttjüket ott töltötték. Az ORI-nak volt egy klubhelyisége a földszinten, és várták a befutó munkákat. Gyakorlatilag mindig mindent tudtunk. A szervezők is tudták fönn az emeleten, hogyha például az Angyalosit keresik vagy a Kordát, akkor csak le kell menni, és szólni, hogy jöjjenek föl, és kiközvetítik. Mindenütt felléptem. A Zeneakadémián is többször. Volt, amikor csak az ötödik kerületben. Ott annyira szerettek, hogy hat helyen is dolgoztam egyszerre. Vendéglátóhelyeken is gyakran léptem fel. Egyedülálló művészemberként is, ugyanúgy jött utánam óriási slepp, mint ahogy ma mennek a zenekarok után. Anyagilag bizonytalan volt a fellépésszám miatt, de jó volt. Ez a periódus 1961-ig tartott.

Ekkor már szerettem volna egy stabil állást. A tiszti házakba is hívtak föllépni, ezekben még mint tisztet ismertek. Pláne azok, akik voltak az Akadémián, és még tanítottam őket. A budapesti Tiszti Ház két különböző helyen volt. A Stefánia úton [akkor: Népstadion út] volt a nyári, és a Váci utca 38. alatt működött a téli. Egyszer ők kerestek meg, hogy a kulturális osztályon szükségük lenne egy emberre, aki programokat szervez és ellenőriz. 1961-ben oda is kerültem. A Tiszti Ház maga egy központi kulturális intézmény volt, de minden megyében, nagyvárosban volt egy-egy tiszti ház.

Nálunk volt például nőklub, nyugdíjasok klubja, ifjúsági klub. Magam szorgalmaztam, hogy én foglalkozzam az ifjúsági klubbal az egyéb kulturális munka mellett. Ez indult körülbelül tizenkét–húsz fővel, és a végén négyszáz fős klub lett. Ez azért alakult így, mert akik odajártak, elvitték a jó hírét a többi polgári alkalmazott gyerekei körébe. A honvédségi lakótelepeken a gyerekek ismerték egymást, és összejöttek a klubunkban is. Aki egyszer eljött, az minden pénteken visszajött már. Végeredményben egy héten egyszer az ifjúságnak volt egy jó programja nálunk, amit szerettek is. Ez nem érintette ugyanakkor az egyéb szombati vagy vasárnapi programokat. Később ezek táncestékké alakultak. A korábbi énekesi kapcsolataim révén egy igen jó nagyzenekart szerződtettem, amely évtizedekig dolgozott nálunk. Énekeseket is szerződtettem mindig. Sok mai ember, akik most már ötven- vagy ötvenegynéhány évesek, az életük egyik legszebb részének tartották ezt a klubot és az ott szerzett élményeket. Ha találkozunk, akkor az a természetes, hogy a „Hogy vagy?” és „Mit csinálsz?”-on kívül azt is mondják, hogy „Emlékszel még?”, és akkor jön az ifjúsági klub  rengeteg csodálatos emléke, eseménye.

1961-től 1971-ig dolgoztam itt. 1971-ben, amikor már úgy éreztem, hogy sok újdonság már nem tőlem függ, s megcsináltam, amit lehetett, találkoztam egy régi ismerősömmel még katonatiszt koromból, Perlai Bélával. Béla, akkoriban már vezette az általa megalapított első Pályaválasztási Tanácsadó Intézetet Magyarországon. A Munkaügyi Minisztérium szorgalmazta, hogy minden megyében legyen ilyen intézet, és ehhez kellett egy országos szervezet, amely irányítja a maga területi rendszerét. Ezért több új munkatársra volt szükség, és így kerültem oda én is. Hamar fölvettek. Propagandaosztály-vezető lettem. A rádió, a sajtó, a tévé a mi témáinkban mind hozzám tartozott. Akik az országban bárhol szakmát vagy továbbtanulási lehetőséget kerestek, azok a megyei vagy városi Pályaválasztási Tanácsadó Intézetekhez fordulhattak. A gyerekek a szülőkkel keresték fel az intézeteket. Mi mint Országos Pályaválasztási Tanácsadó Intézet közvetlen tanácsadással nem foglalkoztunk. Mi tartalmi, módszertani központja voltunk a különböző intézeteknek.

Foglalkozni kellett viszont a különböző társadalmi csoportokkal, amelyek a pályaválasztásban érdekeltek voltak. Meg kellett különböztetni a munka szempontjából a gyerekeket, a szülőket és az iskolákat. Ebben a három körben folyt a pályaválasztási tanácsadás. Ekkortól és a mi kezdeményezésünkre neveztek ki az iskoláknál pályaválasztási felelőst. A szaktanári munka mellett még a pályaválasztással is kellett foglalkozniuk. Ezeket az embereket a tanácsadó intézetek ellátták módszertani elvekkel, de nem kötötték meg a kezüket, hanem csak irányokat mutattak. Továbbképzéseket tartottunk számukra és más szakemberek számára is. A központi intézmények és a megyei intézmények is úgy épültek fel, hogy volt egy pedagógiai-pszichológiai csoportjuk, amelyben csak pedagógusok és pszichológusok dolgoztak. Volt közgazdasági csoport, mert ismerni kellett az adott területhez tartozó elhelyezkedési lehetőségeket. Ők az üzemekkel tartották a kapcsolatot. Részben azért, hogy tudják az üzemi igényt, másrészt, hogy akik odakerültek a különböző üzemekbe, azok beilleszkedését is nyomon követhessék. Tehát az adott közegbe való beilleszkedést segítették. Végezetül mindegyik helyen a propaganda volt nagyon fontos. A szakterületeknek ugyanis propagandát kellett csinálni a szülők és a gyerekek felé is. Ám a gyerekeken belül mást a hat–tizenkét éveseknek és mást a tizenkét–tizennyolc éveseknek.

Az intézet munkatársai nagyon részletes és lényeges információkat gyűjtöttek be a tanulókról, hogy mindinkább a képességeiknek és a lehetőségeiknek megfelelően tudjanak ajánlani bármilyen szakmát. Könyveket adtunk ki a pályaválasztás témaköreiből. Filmeket készítettünk. Egy részének forgatókönyvírója voltam, és én szerveztem meg a különböző szakmákról, témákról szóló folyamatokat, amiket filmen lehetett földolgozni. Voltak témák, amik csak a szakembereknek szóltak, és voltak olyan témák, amik a szakembereken belül is elsősorban a pedagógusoknak, pszichológusoknak, míg más témák csak közgazdászoknak szóltak. 1988-ig dolgoztam itt. Magát az intézetet ide-oda szervezték át. Amikor ez már rendszerré vált, akkor a Munkaügyi Minisztérium azt gondolta, hogy miután e tevékenység a pedagógusok körében folyik, kerüljön a Művelődési Minisztériumhoz. Ekkor szervezték át az OPI-ba, az Országos Pedagógiai Intézetbe. Végül innen mentem nyugdíjba.

A feleségem egész életében dolgozott. Amikor följöttünk Tatáról Budapestre, akkor az első kerületi tanácshoz került. Miközben itt dolgozott, közgazdasági technikumban érettségizett, és utána jelentkezett az ELTE-re, a jogász karra. Miközben az ELTE-n dolgozott először revizorként, majd a könyvelési osztály vezetőjeként, elvégezte a jogi egyetemet. Tizenöt évig volt itt. Innen bekerült a Parlamentbe, ahol a Költségvetési Osztály helyettes vezetője lett. Itt három évig dolgozott. Ezután a Nemzetközi Előkészítő Intézetbe ment, ahol gazdasági igazgató lett, és innen ment nyugdíjba.

A gyerekeim általános iskolát végeztek. A nagyobbik, aki 1952-ben született, szakács lett. Tulajdonképpen abból az elgondolásból, hogy ő mint csendesebb gyerek, jöjjön a Tiszti Házba. Megbeszéltem a főnökkel, aki mondta: „Jó, fölvesszük szakácsnak.” Ott kitanulta a szakácsságot. Egy rövid ideig csinálta, de aztán más pályára ment. Most már nagyon régóta a zöldség-gyümölcs kereskedelemben dolgozik. Egy nagy, százhúsz négyzetméteres boltja van. Van egy fia is, aki most lesz huszonhét éves. De attól, akitől a fia van, már korán elvált.

A kisebbik fiam kilencéves korától sportoló lett. Előbb azt gondoltuk, hogy balettos lesz. El is vittük az Állami Balettintézetbe. Mindent kitűnőnek találtak, felépítésre, ritmusra. Egy problémájuk azonban volt, hogy a térdkalácsa nagyobb a kelleténél, így nem tudták rögtön fölvenni. Mondták, hogy vigyük el tornázni. Beszéljük meg az edzővel, hogy mi van. Úgy kell dolgoztatni, hogy a lába hozzánőjön a térdéhez. A többi részt kell nagyobbra edzeni. Már egyik hónapról a másik hónapra istenítették a gyereket mint kezdő tornászt. Olyanokat megcsinált, hogy csak csodálkoztak. Az ottani dicséretek meg a sikeresség a gyereket magát is oda juttatták, hogy ő tornász lesz. Akkor azt gondoltuk, jó, nem lesz balettos, lesz tornász. Aztán ő is elérkezett a szakmatanuláshoz. Valami olyasmit kellett keresni, ami jó a felépítéséhez és a tornához is. Akkor a Spartacusnál az edzők és a főedző is egyetértett abban, hogy legyen asztalos. Én találtam egy céget Újpesten, ahol minden további nélkül fölvették. Ő meg nagyon büszke volt a leendő szakmájára, és irtózatosan élvezte. Közben egész felnőttkoráig tornázott. De végül is ő artista lett. Ebből is éltek hosszabb ideig a feleségével. Bejárták a világot. Angolul, németül, olaszul beszél. Most Cambridge-ben élnek, ahol a fiam építésvezetőként dolgozik. Egy gyerekük van, aki most huszonkét éves, és egyetemre jár.

A mi gyerekeink tudják, hogy ők is zsidó származásúak, illetve, hogy fél zsidó származásúak. Ez azt jelenti náluk, hogyha a zsidókat valahogy bántják vagy bántanák, akár csak szóban, akkor ugatnak. A zsidóságukat azonban nem élik át. Nem volt ilyen itthon. A kereszténységet se élik át, mert ilyen se volt. Tehát semmiféle vallási kötöttségük nincs. Csak azokat az ünnepeket tartottuk meg, amiket mindenki más. Karácsony, húsvét és a nemzeti ünnepek. Az ünnepekről inkább az iskolában tanultak. Volt az alkotmány ünnepe [Augusztus 20. – ez a nap a második világháború előtt Szent István napja volt (István napját 1083-ban tette az egyház augusztus 20-ára, majd hagyományosan ezen a napon volt a Szent István napi körmenet). 1948-ban megpróbálkoztak az „új kenyér” ünnepével (nem volt teljesen új elképzelés: aratóünnepek mindig is voltak augusztus végén, a 19. század végén kormányzati akarattal próbálták intézményesíteni ezeket, hogy a háborgó parasztokat sztrájkok helyett inkább ünneplésre buzdítsák), majd 1949-től az új alkotmányt ünneplendő, hivatalosan az „alkotmány napját” vagy „az alkotmány évfordulóját” ünnepelték. Ezzel tulajdonképpen az új kenyér ünnepe megszűnt (bár az alkotmány napi ceremóniákról nem hiányozhatott a nemzeti színű szalaggal átkötött friss kenyér). A hetvenes-nyolcvanas években az új kenyér, ill. az alkotmány ünnepe elnevezés mellett újból megjelent István király neve is, elsősorban mint az államalapítóé. 1990 után ismét Szent István személye kapott jelentőséget. – A szerk.], november hetedike [A Nagy Októberi Szocialista Forradalom évfordulója, amely a legnagyobb állami ünnepnek számított a Szovjetunióban. Magyarországon 1988-ig volt munkaszüneti nap. –  A szerk.] és május elseje. A május elsejénél az volt a fontos, hogy én valamikori melós voltam, és ők is melósok lettek, tehát ezt mindig megünnepeltük szépen. Felvonultunk. A KISZ-be nem léptek be. Nem foglalkoztak vele.

A gyerekeink gyakorlatilag ugyanolyan felfogásúak, mint mi, anélkül, hogy ezt rájuk erőltettük volna. Ők ugyanolyan természetes módon tették magukévá a baloldaliságot, mint ahogy naponta eszünk. Ezt is ilyen általánosan említem, mert nem a kommunistaságot, nem a szociáldemokrataságot, sem bármelyik pártot nem erőltettük, de ők is baloldali gondolkodású emberek lettek.

A zsidóság az életemben valójában nincs jelen olyan mértékben, mint általában azoknál, akik megőrizték a buzgó vallásosságukat, zsidóságukat. A zsidó tudat azonban a magam identitásának komoly része. Önálló életvitelemben a zsidó vallási rítusok nincsenek jelen. Ettől függetlenül én zsidónak tartom magam.

Elég sokára jártam először külföldön. A feleségem sokkal hamarabb ment, ő a testvéreivel utazott ide-oda. Nem voltunk anyagiakban úgy elengedve, hogy külföldre ketten mehettünk volna. De Magyarországon mindenütt voltam. Elsősorban még a második világháború előtt mint gyerekszínész. Minden nagyvárost többszörösen bejártunk. Balaton és környéke főleg nyáron, amikor a fellépésekkel rengeteg helyre utaztunk. Később a családdal minden nyáron a Balatonhoz mentünk. „Nekünk a Balaton volt a Riviéra” – ahogy a nóta mondja. 1974 óta nekünk is van víkendházunk Balatonudvariban. Most is minden évben lemegyünk, és két hónapig ott nyaralunk. Szépen tartjuk a kertet, és nagyon szeretünk ott lenni. Később bejártuk Európát. Sok helyen voltunk, sőt kétszer is elmentünk Izraelbe, 1994-ben és 1998-ban.

Érdekes módon bennem megvolt már tizenéves koromtól – aztán felnőttként pláne –, hogy életemben egyszer el kellene menni Amerikába meg Izraelbe. Egyszer azután úgy jött ki, hogy elmentünk Izraelbe egy turistacsoporttal. Aztán 1998-ban újból, mert a nagybátyám felesége és a fia kiköltözött Izraelbe, és ott éltek. Meghívtak magukhoz. Csodálatos két hét volt! Teljesen másképp mutatták be az országot, mint azt korábban láttuk, és vittek ide-oda. Sok helyre elmentünk, ahol korábban még nem voltunk. Sok emberrel találkoztunk, új ismeretségek alakultak, s láttuk a valódi életet. Az sosem merült fel bennünk, egy kicsit sem, hogy ott kellene élnünk. Nem, semmiképpen sem. Semmi okunk nem volt rá. Ami egzisztenciát itthon kialakítottunk, az itt jó volt. Amúgy kezdettől fogva, a mai napig szolidáris vagyok Izraellel. Az én szememben és az én fejemben az izraelieknek helyük van ott. Ez visszamenőlegesen is így van. Mindkét népnek helye van ott. Ahol a zsidók vannak az ország területén, ott van minden. Van kultúra, van üzem, víz meg minden a világon. Óriási a különbség! Erre büszkék lehetnek.

Andai Ernőné

Életrajz

Az apai nagyszülőket alig ismertem, de voltak olyan rokonaim, akik meséltek róluk. A nagyapámról, Deutsch Ignácról van egy anekdota a családban. Ő a Deutsch Lipót első feleségétől való, és mikor újból megnősült az apja, nem fűlött a foga ahhoz, hogy otthon maradjon a mostohával. Mészárosnak tanult, és abban az időben valcoltak, azaz vándoroltak az iparoslegények, és a nagyapám egy munkakönyvvel vagy két évig járta a Monarchiát, és akkor utána úgy gondolta, hogy hazalátogat a szülői házba. És váratlanul megjelent. A második feleség éppen krumplit sütött a sütőben, és szedegette ki. Megállt a tékozló fiú az ajtóban, mondta, hogy ő kicsoda, és hogy hazajött a családhoz. A második feleség nagyon dühös lett. A fiú kimeredt szemmel nézte a krumplikat, mert nagyon éhes volt. Mire az kikapott egy krumplit a tepsiből, s a frissen sült forró krumplit beleszorította a kezébe a mostohafiúnak. A fejleményeket nem tudom, de nem hiszem, hogy sok kedve volt ott maradni. A nagyapám aztán Felpécen [Győr vm., nagyközség, 1910-ben 1500 lakossal. – A szerk.] települt le. Felpécen nem folytatta a mészárosságot, hanem kocsmája volt. A nagyapám fiatalon meghalt. Volt földje is, és az özvegy fölnevelte a gyerekeket úgy, hogy majdnem mind diplomás lett. József [1865–1938] technikumot végzett [Akkoriban nem létezett ez az iskolatípus, valamilyen ipari szakiskolát végezhetett, esetleg felső ipariskolát, lásd: ipariskolák. – A szerk.], Sándor gépésznek tanult, Béla építészmérnök volt, elvégezte az egyetemet, és János jogi doktor volt. És apám is járt két évet az egyetemre. [Nagyjából ez idő tájt, 1910-ben a magyarországi zsidóság körében a férfiak 10,1%-a (a dunántúli zsidóság soraiban a férfiak 8,9%-a) végezte el a nyolcosztályos középiskolát (Karády Viktor számításai). – A szerk. ]

Nagyanyámat, Perl Marit én is ismertem, mert majdnem 100 évig élt. 1841-ben született, és én még ismertem. A nagyanyámnak lehetett valamennyi iskolája, mert olvasni tudott, és olvasott is, főleg az imakönyvet. Teljesen olyan volt, mint egy falusi néni. Engem döbbenettel töltött el, hogy amit nem tudott megenni, arra azt mondta, ez jó lesz a Marinak. És azt ette a cseléd, amit ő otthagyott. A cseléden kívül más nem volt. Legföljebb a béresek feleségei besegítettek, ha nagyon szükség volt rá. Nagyanyám nagyon kemény, kardos asszony volt, de annak is kellett lennie, hogy egyedül elboldoguljon a háztartással, a gyerekekkel és a földdel. Viszont éjjel-nappal az imakönyvet olvasta, és minden imádságot tudott kívülről. Nem emlékszem, hogy ő valaha is mást olvasott volna. Emlékszem, hogy nem volt szemüvege, hanem nagyítóval nézte az imakönyvet. Mindig látom őt a nagyítóval a kezében, de mindig héber betűket látok ott. Nem hiszem, hogy érdekelte volna bármi más. Illetve érdekelte a pletyka.

A nagyanyámnak volt egy utcai szobája, onnan nyílt egy úgynevezett szalon. Itt fogadták az unokanővéreim [Gyula nagybácsi lányai] az udvarlóikat. A szalonnak volt még egy dupla üvegajtaja, amelyik a verandára nyílt. Egy nagy tornác volt, L-alakú, ennek a hosszabbik szárából nyílt a konyha. Két konyha volt: egy nyári konyha és egy téli konyha. A nyári konyha közelebb volt a tornáchoz, én a téliben soha nem tapasztaltam, hogy valami is történik, mert mindig nyáron voltam ott. A konyha háta mögött voltak további szobák, amiknek az ablaka a tornácra nyílt, elég sötétek voltak. És a tornác legvégében volt a budi. Víz nem volt a házban, hanem minden szobában volt egy mosdóállvány lavórral és egy korsóval, és a cseléd gondoskodott róla, hogy a korsóban mindig legyen friss víz. A nagyanyámnak valami csodálatos bútorai voltak, faragott parasztbútorok valami fekete fából, biztos ébenfa. Csodálatosan voltak kifaragva, és benne volt mindegyikben az évszám, ezernyolcszáznegyven vagy micsoda. Ha a tornácról kilépett az ember, ott volt egy udvar, és onnan nyílt két kis drótkerítéssel elkerített virágoskertecske, az egyik az utca felé, a másik az udvar felé. És az udvar végében volt a disznóól.

A nagymamámék egész sajátságosan tartották meg a vallást. Azt tartották meg, amit kényelmesebb volt megtartani. A háztartás nem volt kóser. Megették a disznót, nem szívesen, de megették. Széderestére mindig meg voltunk híva hozzájuk, és ott volt az összes testvér. Az őszi ünnepeket mindenki a saját lakhelyén ünnepelte. A szédert a legidősebb nagybátyám vezette le, és egy darab ideig én tettem fel a kérdéseket, de aztán lett egy nálam fiatalabb is, akkor az. Felpécen nem volt templom, csak imaház. A nagyünnepekkor ott összegyűltek a zsidók. A szomszéd Téten volt néhány zsidó család, és azokkal egymást látogatták.

Anyám egész családja a Felvidéken [ma Szlovákia] élt. Semmit nem tudok róluk, mindnyájan meghaltak, nem maradt senki. A nagyszüleim Kassán éltek. A nagypapa sportos, magas, ápolt, nagyon ápolt ember volt, remekül úszott. Kis bajusza volt. Nem voltak ortodoxok (senki sem volt a családban az), sőt abszolút nem voltak vallásosak. Nem tartották a szombatot, sem a kóserságot, disznót is ettek. Templomba még az ünnepeken sem mentek. Nagyapám nagyon sokgyermekes családból származott. Azt mesélte, hogy hétéves korában azt mondták a szülei: „Na most már eleget tartottunk téged, tartsd el magad te, alászolgája!” És elment egy közeli üzletbe. Teljesen iskolázatlan volt, de ő maga képezte magát. Rendkívül érdeklődő ember volt, rengeteget olvasott, magyarul, németül és szlovákul tudott kifogástalanul. Írt is ezeken a nyelveken. Gyönyörű írása volt – gót betűkkel írt [A gót betű a középkorban kialakított, sajátos, német, hegyes betűtípus. Gutenberg ezt használta első nyomtatványaihoz. A német nyelvterületen a 20. század közepéig rendszeresen használták. – A szerk.]. Azt hiszem, német volt az anyanyelvük. Szerintem jobban, könnyebben beszéltek németül, mint magyarul. Velem magyarul beszéltek, de anyámmal nem. Anyám anyanyelvi fokon tudott németül, és levelezni is németül levelezett. A nagyapám mindig németül írt neki. Nagyapa mindenfélével próbálkozott. Zálogháza volt, aztán szállodája, aztán könyvelő volt. Azt hiszem, kicsit tönkrementek. Amikor én születtem, akkor még volt egy saját ház, úgy látszik, később lepasszolták, mert amikor én odajártam nyaralni, csak egy udvari lakásuk volt. A vécé bent volt. A konyhában volt egy mosdó felállítva, és ott lehetett mosakodni. Egy egyemeletes házban volt ez, besütött a nap az ablakon, s az udvaron leander volt dézsában. A nagymama nem dolgozott, a három lányát fölnevelte, a háztartást vezette. Amikor születtem, volt háztartási alkalmazottjuk, méghozzá mindig szlovák, vagy ahogy akkor mondták, tót. Később, az 1930-as években aztán már nem volt. A nagymama nem volt jó kedélyű, aggodalmaskodó volt mindig. Mindentől félt, mindig rosszra gondolt. Nem is igen tudta az érzéseit sem kimutatni, bizonyára szeretett engem mint unokáját, de én nemigen vettem észre. Nagyon-nagyon remekül tudott sütni-főzni, és ragyogott a lakás. Én utoljára 15 éves koromban voltam ott, azontúl soha. A nagyszüleim a kassai gettóban mérgezték meg magukat, úgyhogy nem deportálták őket. Nyolcvanon felül volt nagyapám, amikor a gettóban meghalt.

Anyámnak két testvére volt.  Olga [1890/91–?] idősebb volt anyámnál három-négy évvel. Egyetemre járatták Pestre, ami abban az időben nagyon nagy szó volt. Tanárnak tanult – nem tudom, milyen szakos tanárnak –, és közölte a szüleivel, hogy ő nem óhajt tanári állásba menni, mert beleszeretett egy egyetemi hallgatóba, és hozzámegy feleségül, és nem is fejezte be az egyetemet. A baj csak az volt, hogy az illető keresztény volt és egy börtönőrnek a fia. Hát rettentő nagy zűr lett belőle, de hozzáment, és a fiú állást kapott Resicabányán, Temesvárhoz közel [Resicabánya akkoriban óriási, 17 000 lakost számláló nagyközség státusú település volt Krassó-Szörény vármegyében – ma Románia –, bányákkal és kohóművekkel. – A szerk.]. Ott egy vasgyárban kapott állást, és odamentek. Egyetlen leánygyermekük született, és négyéves korában kiderült, hogy cukorbaja van. Akkor találták fel az inzulint, és Bécsből repülőgéppel hozattak neki inzulint. Élete végéig inzulinoznia kell magát. Mi valahogy elidegenedtünk egymástól, nem tudok róluk semmi többet.

Anyám húgát, Izabellát, Bellát [1896/97–?] szintén Budapestre járatták egyetemre. Ő is rühellte az egyetemet. Bella nagyon fura nő volt. Azt is úgy adták férjhez [lásd: házasságközvetítő] egy kocsmároshoz. Már nem volt olyan fiatal, bár nagyon csinos volt, és örült, hogy férjhez ment. A férje egy kereskedelmiben érettségizett [lásd: kereskedelmi iskolák] vidéki zsidó ember volt, a Thököly út és a Murányi utca sarkán volt italmérése. Nagyon jó anyagi helyzetben voltak. Bella nem dolgozott, nem szeretett emberek között lenni. Moziba járt meg olvasott. Főzni sem tudott, az anyósa főzött, amíg élt. Gyerekük nem lett sose. A háborút mindketten túlélték. A férje nem volt munkaszolgálatos. Nem szerettem őket, mert borzasztóan éreztették velünk, hogy sokkal jobb anyagi helyzetben vannak, mint mi.

Apámék eredetileg nyolcan voltak testvérek, hét férfi és egy nő. Korán meghalt az egy nő, egy a fiúk közül is 16 éves korában meghalt tüdőbajban. Apám legidősebb testvére Erdős József [1865–1938] volt, aki tizenhét évvel volt idősebb apámnál. Apám tíz éves volt, amikor Deutschról Erdősre magyarosítottak [lásd: névmagyarosítás]. Csak a testvérek magyarosítottak, az apjuk, az én nagyapám nem. Józsefnek gépésztechnikusi képzettsége volt [Ez a képzettség akkoriban még nem létezett, valamilyen ipariskolát végezhetett. – A szerk.], és a Röck-féle gépgyárban kezdte mint gépész [A Röck-féle gépgyárat 1816-ban alapította Röck István (1773–1850) (Pesten, a Szervita téren, mezőgazdasági gépek és eszközök); fia  (István János, 1813–1882) továbbfejlesztette (1857-től: Soroksári út, cséplő- és nyomdagépek, majd lokomotívok is), hazai és külföldi műegyetemeket végzett unokái (István, 1847–1916) és Gyula, 1851–1925) pedig modern gépgyárrá fejlesztették (gőzgép, kazántechnika, jéggyári és hűtőtelepek gépi berendezései stb., 1902-től a gépgyár Kelenföldön működött). – A szerk.], aztán autószerelő lett, és egy autójavító műhelyt nyitott Budapesten. Elég jómódúak voltak. Ő „ágyban, párnák közt” halt meg az 1930-as években, a felesége pedig az ostrom alatt betegségben. Három gyereke volt. A legidősebb gyereke, Rózsi [1897–1961] Bécsbe ment férjhez, a férje borkereskedő volt. A középső gyerek, Miklós [1899–1945?] együtt dolgozott az apjával, aztán átvette a műhelyt. A felesége Dániából származott ide. Nem tudom, milyen nemzetiségű volt. Nem volt magyar, mert németes akcentussal beszélt magyarul, bár tökéletesen. Miklósnak nem kellett munkaszolgálatra mennie, mivel német és magyar katonák javíttatták az autóikat a műhelyben, tehát mentességet élvezett. [A gépkocsikhoz értő személyeket (szerelőket, sofőröket) a honvédség bevonultatta, és a német megszállás előtt még ilyen zsidókat is bevonultattak a reguláris hadsereg kötelékébe (nem csak munkaszolgálatosnak). Valószínű tehát, hogy Erdős Miklós a magyar honvédség kötelékébe tartozott. Az is lehet, hogy valamelyik pártfogója elérte, hogy ne kelljen bevonulnia. Az viszont szinte kizárt, hogy a német megszállás után zsidóként legálisan megtarthatta a műhelyét. – A szerk.] S amikor bejöttek az oroszok első nap, azt mondta, „Hát két hónapja nem voltam az utcán, megnézem, mi van”. Elment, és soha többet nem látta senki. [Valószínűleg málenkij robotra hurcolták. – A szerk.] A legfiatalabb gyerek László [1904–1943] volt. Ő is ott dolgozott a műhelyben. Nagyon csöndes fiú volt. Meghalt munkaszolgálatban.

Utána következett Erdős Sándor [1870–1945], ő megmaradt Nyugat-Magyarországon, ahonnan származnak. Valami köze lehetett a molnársághoz, mert Bősárkányban lett egy hengermalma. De volt malmuk Kapuváron és Hódmezővásárhelyen is. A felesége, Topf Ilona [1877–1937] postáskisasszony volt, amikor Sándor megismerte. Mérhetetlenül okos nő volt. Bősárkányban ő volt a postahivatal vezetője. Aztán persze abbahagyta. Azt mondja a családi krónika, hogy mindent ő tanácsolt a férjének, minden lépését ő mondta meg, vele beszélt meg mindent: mit vegyen, mit adjon el, mindent. Bősárkányban volt nekik egy családi rezidenciájuk [Bősárkány: Sopron vm.-i kisközség, 1930-ban 2200 lakossal. – A szerk.]. Nagyon gazdag volt. Amikor én tíz éves voltam, akkor ott már folyóvíz volt, ami falun ritka volt. A malomtól volt villanyvilágítás, volt rádió, telefon, üvegház palántákkal, teniszpálya, minden. Amikor olyan 12-13 éves voltam, akkor neki már volt autója sofőrrel [1930-ban 13 394 személyautó volt Magyarországon, a többségük persze Budapesten. – A szerk.], és a fiának is volt, aki maga vezette. Nagy flancolás ment ott, és borzasztóan törleszkedett a dzsentrikhez, azokkal barátkozott. Azt mesélte a családi krónika, hogy amikor a Kommün volt 1919-ben [lásd: Tanácsköztársaság], akkor a Szamuely Tibor volt ott az úr, és az begyűjtötte az összes kapitalistákat és agyonlövette őket, és őt is begyűjtötte. [Bősárkányi vérengzésről konkrétan nem lehet tudni, de 1919. június elején Nyugat-Magyarország több településén lázongás tört ki a Tanácsköztársaság intézkedései ellen. Kun Béla utasítására Szamuely Tibor a régióba utazott, és kíméletlen eszközökkel elfojtotta az ellenállást. Kőszegen, Nagycenken, Sopronkövesden és Kapuvárott legalább tíz embert, Csornán nyolc embert végeztek ki. (Gratz Gusztáv: Forradalmak kora, Budapest, Magyar Szemle Társaság, 1935, 141–142. oldal.) – A szerk.] Úgy nézett ki, hogy vagy felakasztják, vagy agyonlövik. Maga elé hívatta és kérdezte, hogy kicsoda-micsoda. Azt kérdezte: „Maga zsidó?” „Igen, az.” Erre leköpte és kirúgta. Télen mindig Pesten éltek, béreltek egy hatszobás vagy négyszobás lakást a Vígszínház utcában. Télen falun nincs élet, itt meg élték világukat, színházba jártak, társaságba jártak. És a családot is kultiválták. Sokszor meg voltunk híva ebédre – de nagyon kegyesen és leereszkedően. Nem voltak nagyon vallásosak, de azért jobban, mint az anyai ág. Úgy emlékszem, hogy péntek este gyertyát gyújtottak, és a nagyünnepekkor templombérletet váltottak. A háború alatt a család Pesten bujkált, és a Sándor néhány hónappal a háború befejezése előtt halt meg, akkor már nagyon beteg és öreg volt.

Sándornak négy gyermeke volt, három lány és egy fiú. A legkisebb lánya meghalt 32 éves korában tébécében [Erzsébet, 1906–1938]. Az akkoriban nagyon gyakori volt. Sándor középső lánya [Klára, 1903–1966] Bécsbe ment férjhez egy bornagykereskedőhöz, és lett egy fia. A férje és a fia meghalt munkaszolgálatban, ő pedig Bécsben halt meg. A legidősebb lány, Rózsi [1901–1944] Pesten élt a férjével, aki a Budapesti Húsnagyvágó Szövetség elnöke volt. A Rózsi gazdag úrinő volt, nagypolgári életet éltek, uszodába járt, úszott, sportolt. Saját házuk volt. Mi csak akkor jártunk náluk, ha meg voltunk híva születésnapra, ilyesmire. Borzasztó véget ért szegény. A Maros utcai kórházban legyilkolták a 16 éves lányával együtt. A férje pedig öngyilkos lett 1944-ben. A fia [Iván, szül. 1926] túlélte, tolmács lett, és ma is él. Erdős Sándor egyetlen fia, István [1898–1986] a malomvállalat igazgatója volt. Nagyon okos, művelt, szellemes világfi volt, elegáns, jóképű és gonosz. Elvette az egri hitközségi elnök leányát, Grósz Magdát, aki akkor jött ki a svájci intézetből. Azok szörnyen gazdagok voltak. Azt elvette, szerelem nélkül, csak mert olyan jómódú volt. Két leányuk született. Nagyon rossz házasságuk volt. Ők is túlélték a háborút, mert az Istvánnak keresztény barátnője volt, és ő mindenkit megmentett. Mérhetetlenül rendes nő. A háború után elvált a feleségétől, és elvette ezt a nőt.

Apám következő testvére Béla [1874–1936] volt, aki építészmérnök volt a vasútnál. Rohanvást menekült el innen 1919-ben, mert a munkások megválasztották őt valami bizalminak a Kommün alatt, és zsidó lévén sejtette, hogy nem fogják azt mondani, hogy köszönöm szépen. Bécsben élt, és egy házkezelő irodát tartott fenn, rengeteg ház házkezelőségét vállalta. Ott is halt meg, ágyban, párnák között. Volt két fia, akiket utoljára tízéves koromban láttam.

Aztán következett Gyula [1876–1944]. Ő nem volt diplomás; otthon maradt Felpécen, a szülői földön gazdálkodott, persze nem egyedül, voltak béresei. Ő egy földet túró paraszt volt teljesen. [Nem derült ki az interjúból, hogy mekkora földtulajdonnal rendelkeztek (vagy esetleg mekkorát béreltek), de figyelembe kell venni, hogy az 1897-ben megözvegyült anya mindegyik fiát taníttatta. Karády Viktor számításai szerint 1910-ben a magyarországi zsidóság 6,7 (a Dunántúlon 5,1%-a) űzött mezőgazdasági foglalkozást. „A dunántúli megyékben … a földműveléssel foglalkozó zsidóság többsége … a földbirtokos réteghez tartozott”, azaz a „földtulajdonos polgársághoz”. – A szerk.] Mindenfélét termelt, zöldséget, búzát, gabonát. Lovai is voltak meg disznai is. Később a bátyja elhívta őt a malmot igazgatni. Gyula két méter magas volt és szőke, és hatalmas bajusza volt, mindennek kinézett, csak zsidónak nem. Teljesen elparasztosodott, egy aranyos ember volt. Cimbalmon játszott esténként, amikor ráért. Egy vidéki iparos családból származó zsidó lányt vett el. A felesége a ház körül dolgozott, a kertben meg az állatokkal, és az alkalmazottakat irányította. Két lányuk volt. Az egyik, Piroska [1905–1944] Vépen, Vas megyében egy állatorvoshoz ment feleségül. Én mindent, azt, hogy valami műveltségem van, nekik köszönhetek. A férje csodálatosan művelt és érdeklődő ember volt. Maga készített rádiót magának. Bámultam és imádtam. Könyvet ő adott a kezembe, hogy ezt olvasd el ezért meg ezért. Ő figyelmeztetett arra, hogy ne legyek olyan életre-halálra szocialista, mert megvan ennek az eszmének a hátulütője is. Mind a ketten elpusztultak. Azt mesélték, hogy Piroska talán túl is élte volna a Mengelét, mert egészséges volt, de szívességből valakinek a kisgyerekét a karjára vette, hogy segítsen neki, mert az asszony roskadozott. És így rögtön a gázba küldték. Gyula bácsi másik lánya, Ilonka [1910–1970] Kapuváron a malomirodán dolgozott mint gépírónő. Az Ilonka férjét megölték munkaszolgálatban, ő hazajött a deportálásból. Újból férjhez ment egy fuvarozóhoz, és 1956-ban szőröstül-bőröstül áttelepültek Angliába, még az utolsó szeneslapátot is magukkal vitték, mert hisz volt lovuk, kocsijuk, teherautójuk. Gyula nagybátyámat is megölték Auschwitzban feleségestül.

Az utána következő János [1878–1944] nagyon jó nevű ügyvéd lett Győrött. A János nagybátyámék szigorúan tartottak mindent. Amikor széder után meghívtak magukhoz Győrbe, ott a Pészah nyolc napja alatt minden nap mentünk templomba. Talán kóserek is voltak, bár erre nem mernék megesküdni, de azt tudom, hogy volt pészahi edényük. Olyankor elrámolták a többit, és elővették azt. Jánost és a feleségét elégették Auschwitzban. A fiuk [Béla, 1914–1943] meghalt a munkaszolgálatban, egyedül a lányuk [Gabriella, 1920] maradt meg, de neki is meghalt a férje a munkaszolgálatban. Amikor hazajött a deportálásból, felköltözött Pestre, gyorsan férjhez ment, és elmentek Szlovákiába, onnan pedig hamar tovább Izraelbe a fiukkal együtt.

Utána jött apám, Lajos [1881–1961]. Ő volt a legfiatalabb. Apám imádta a bátyjait könyvet vezetett arról, hogy a bátyjainak, a sógornőinek, az unokahúgainak mikor van a születésnapja. Így azokkal, akik Budapesten laktak, találkoztunk ünnepkor, születésnapkor, meg néha meghívtak minket ebédre. Tulajdonképpen apám minden testvére gazdagabb volt, mint mi, és nagyon szépen támogatták édesapámat. Akinek malma volt, attól csőstül kaptuk a lisztet.

Apám gimnáziumban érettségizett a Tavaszmező utcában. Nagyon jó volt latinból és görögből, de képtelen volt bármi más nyelvet megtanulni; a német kiejtése is szörnyű volt, annak ellenére, hogy nyugat-magyarországi családból származott, ahol mindenki tudott németül. Érettségi után, azt hiszem, két évig járt a jogra, de elunta. Utána, 21 éves korában, elkerült a postához, és postatisztviselő lett. Az egyik nagy postahivatalban a főpénztárban volt főpénztáros-helyettes. Ez bizalmi munka volt, és nagy felelősség, mert rettenetesen sok pénzzel volt dolguk. Osztálytársa volt a legifjabb Mikszáth Kálmán, a nagy Mikszáth Kálmán fia, és az ő protekciójával bekerült a postához, ami egy elképesztő dolog volt, hogy egy zsidó postatisztviselő legyen [Karády Viktor számításai szerint a budapesti zsidóságnak 8%-a dolgozott állami szolgálatban 1910-ben, az ország különböző régióiban pedig 13% és 18,1% között mozgott az állami szolgálatban dolgozók aránya a zsidók között. – A szerk.].

Postai dolgozóként állami tisztviselő volt, mindazzal az előnnyel, amivel az járt. Arcképes igazolványa volt, ingyen utazhattunk a vasúton, évi, mondjuk, húsz csomagot ingyen kaphattunk. Akkor még a postának saját betegpénztára volt, saját rendelőkkel, saját kórháza nagyon jó orvosokkal. [A M. kir. Posta az 1920-as években az alábbi jóléti intézményekkel rendelkezett: az állami postaszemélyzet segélyző és nyugdíjpótló egyesülete (alapítási éve 1869, főfeladata a lakbérnyugdíj kiegészítése volt); a magyar postaszemélyzet I. Ferenc József országos betegsegélyző egyesülete (alapítási éve 1895), amelynek jól felszerelt ambulatóriuma és mintegy 400 orvosa volt; a postamesterek nyugdíjegyesülete (alapítási éve 1869) állami hozzájárulás mellett nyugdíjazta a kiszolgált postamestereket (a belépés kötelező volt); különböző postai alkalmazotti egyesületek (jogász és mérnök tisztviselők egyesülete; forgalmi postatisztviselők kaszinója, üzemi tisztviselők országos egyesülete, nőtisztviselők egyesülete, postaaltisztek országos egyesülete), melyek Budapesten egyesületi házzal, Keszthely-Hévízen üdülőteleppel rendelkeztek; társas és gazdasági egyesülések: a postaszemélyzet ének- és zeneegyesülete zeneiskolával, a postások kultúregyesülete, a postás sportegylet, házépítő szövetkezetek, fogyasztási szövetkezetek stb. – A szerk.] És volt még egy nagyon érdekes dolog. Akkor kezdett Siófok fürdőhely lenni, amikor én tíz éves voltam, tehát 1928-ban. Siófok fürdőtelepen csak nyáron volt élet, és kitalálták, hogy nyáron legyen ott postahivatal, és három vagy négy megbízható postatisztviselőt odaküldtek, hogy azt a postahivatalt vezessék. Ingyen szálloda, ingyen koszt, ingyen strandbelépő járt vele. Plusz a fizetésük, sőt azt hiszem, még valami plusz is volt a fizetésen felül, úgyhogy mi anyámmal együtt odamentünk, és ott voltunk nyaralni egész nyáron. Nem volt rossz dolog. Aztán még olyan apró előnyök voltak apámnak mint állami tisztviselőnek, hogy hitelképes volt: mindent a világon részletre vettünk. Megkapta a fizetését apuka, mindent kifizetett, megint nem maradt egy fitying sem, kezdődött az egész elölről. De mindent kaptunk hitelre és részletre, mert a posta olyan jó garancia volt. Azért szűkösen éltünk.

Anyám, Brichta Margit 1894-ben született. A kassai felsőbb leányiskolába járt, és összetett kézzel könyörgött, hogy ő is szeretne tanulni, de neki azt mondták: „Nem, te szép vagy, neked férjhez kell menned.” A másik kettő sem volt csúnya, de anyám volt a legszebb. Nem taníttatták. Tanítónőképzőbe járt, az apácákhoz Kassára. [Ebben az időszakban – 1910 körül – a magyarországi zsidóságon belül a nők körében országosan 13,2% volt a 4 vagy 6 középiskolát, és mindössze 1,5% volt a középiskola 8 osztályát elvégzettek aránya. (Karády Viktor számításai). – A szerk.] Anyám, 1914-ben, tehát húszéves korában férjhez ment az édesapámhoz, és Budapestre költöztek. Szerintem úgy hozták össze a partit [lásd: házasságközvetítő]. A háború alatt édesapám mozgópostás volt – úgy hívták azt, aki a vonattal jött-ment –, és hosszabb ideig megtelepedett Marosvásárhelyen. És kapott egy szolgálati lakást, ahol nagyon tisztességes körülmények között laktak. Valami étkezőhelyiségben összejöttek, többen voltak magyar katonatisztek, és ott este ettek meg iszogattak. De lakni egyedül laktak a szüleim. Anyám nem ment el dolgozni, nem is lehetett. Sütött, főzött, ha volt miből. Mindig talált valamit, amit lehetett olvasni. Olvasott. És ott volt a többi tiszt felesége is. Én majdnem ott születtem. Végül aztán Kassán születtem meg 1918-ban. Háború volt és élelmiszerhiány, úgyhogy édesanyám hazament szülni a szüleihez. Aztán nagyon furcsa család lett belőlünk, mert amikor édesanyám 45 éves volt, fogta magát, szült még egy gyereket. Én már 21 éves voltam, és akkor született az egyetlen testvérem, Marika. Amikor beteg lett édesanyám, akkor a húgom tőlem járt iskolába, sőt egy darabig egyetemre is, amíg el nem ment Kubába tanulni.

Az úgy volt, hogy 1956-ban [lásd: 1956-os forradalom] a húgom elment. Bécsig eljutott. Mert elment egy fiú után, és akkor ott összevesztek, mert kiderült, hogy a fiúnak már megvan a vízuma Angliába, és őneki nem szólt egy szót se, erre a húgom fogta magát és visszajött. Bizony nagyon nehéz volt az élete, mert lett egy priusza, és nem vették fel az egyetemre.

Akkor kötött egy nagyon rossz házasságot egy fiúval, akinek az apja-anyja orvos volt. A fiú húzta az egyik lábát, mert 18 éves korában gyermekparalízist kapott. Nagyon szép lány volt a Marika húszéves korában, nagyon szép volt. Beleszeretett, és a szülei majd a frászt kapták örömükben, hogy ilyen menyük lesz, aki egyrészt egy komoly rendes kislány. És akkor elpanaszolta a Marika, hogy a legnagyobb bánata az, hogy nem vették föl az egyetemre. Hó, hát azt mondják, ez nincs. Volt egy barátnőjük, egy 1919-es [lásd: Tanácsköztársaság] emigrált orosz zsidó nő – egy bűbájos nő volt –, az egész kormányt ő tanította oroszul. Mindenkivel jó barátságban volt. És elmondták, hogy van a Marikának egy ilyen priusza, hogy elfogták és becsukták, mert újból disszidálni akart, miután visszajött. Nem veszik fel. Ó, azt mondja, ez nem jelent semmit. Fölírt minden adatot buzgón, elment a belügyes volt tanítványához, bementek oda, ahol az ilyenek papírjai, személyi papírjai voltak, megfogták azt a börtönről szólót, kiemelték, eldobták, nem volt többé. Fölvették. Így ment ez. És ott, mivelhogy ő volt a legjobb az évfolyamban spanyolból, természetesen kapott egy kubai ösztöndíjat. Nagyon-nagyon tudott tanulni. Marika Kubában szerzett diplomát. Anyanyelvi szinten beszél spanyolul, és mivel ott angolszakos volt, ma angol–spanyol tolmácsként dolgozik.

Anyám tanítani sose akart, nem szerette, a tanítóképzőt is úgy erőszakolták rá. Mindig kitalált valamit, amit otthon csinált. Időnként kitalált valamit, levizsgázott mint szabász, egy-két évig varrt felsőruhákat, volt egy pár alkalmazottja is. És akkor kitalált valami mást. Valamikor az 1930-as évek végén egyszerre csak divatba jött, hogy amikor jön a tavasz, színesre festett szalmafonálból horgoltak sapkákat, és ilyet hordtak. Anyu nagyon hamar észrevette, előbb ő horgolta, aztán már kiadta. Megvette az anyagot és csináltatta, és nagyon jól ment. De már júliusra véget ért a divat. És akkor kifújt az egész. Úgy tíz év múlva azt találta ki, hogy angórából kötött kesztyűt, sálat, mindent.  Akkor már én is kötöttem, sőt  rokkán fontam a nyúlszőrt fonallá.

Hamar észrevettem, hogy apám családja nagyon görbén néz anyámra, mert úgy kilógott abból a családból. Azok mindenben nagyon konzervatívak voltak, zsidó érzésűek voltak; anyám haladó szellemű volt, 1927-ben levágatta a haját bubifrizurára [Fiúsan rövid, körben lenyírt hajviselet. – A szerk.] – ami egy borzalmas cselekedet volt –, és dohányzott. Senki nő erre nem vetemedett apám családjából. Az öltözködése, a magatartása… Divatos volt, nem volt se kihívó, se semmi, csak éppen divatos. Azonkívül ő fiatalabb volt, mint ők. Irigykedtek rá és nem szerették. Anyám nem nagyon jött velünk az ünnepeken a nagymamához. De voltak alkalmak, amikor anyám is találkozott a rokonokkal. Például a leggazdagabb nagybátyámat, a[z Erdős] Sándort, amikor télire kivett egy lakást Budapesten, azt kellett látogatni. Egyszer-kétszer a másik nagybátyámhoz is elment, ezek olyan vizitek voltak: születésnap vagy ünnep. Én apámmal gyakrabban mentem rokonlátogatásra, és tudomásul vettem, hogy ez így van.

16 éves koromig a Klauzál téren laktunk. Nagyon kicsi, kétszobás, nagyon fura lakás volt. Az tetszett nekem benne, hogy a legfölső emeleten volt, és nem volt fölötte padlás. Ennélfogva nyáron valami irtóztató meleg volt, a palatető volt a fejünk fölött. És volt egy különös helyisége a lakásnak, ami padlás volt, de egy szinten volt a lakásunkkal. A lomokat meg a téli almát tartottuk ott. Az egyik szobában volt a két szülői ágy, és a végében keresztbe téve egy dívány, ott aludtam én. Volt még ott ez a két szekrény, ami most itt van nálam, és egy kicsi négyszögletes asztal. Más nem fért oda. A másik szoba kimondottan ebédlő volt, ebédlőbútorral. És ez a könyvszekrény, ami még mindig megvan, ez is az ebédlőben volt. Volt egy elég tágas előszoba, nyáron ott szoktunk ebédelni. Onnan nyílt egy nagyon rendes nagyságú konyha, és abból egy rendes nagyságú spejz. Volt egy összecsukható vaságy, amit este kinyitott, és ott aludt a háztartási alkalmazott [A „háztartási alkalmazott” kifejezés egy 1945 után használt eufemizmus volt a cseléd megjelölésére. – A szerk.]. A házban majdnem mindenkivel jóban voltunk. Zsidó kispolgár volt majdnem mindenki. Alig volt nem zsidó közöttünk.

Minden lakás a körfolyosóra nyílott, és mi, gyerekek mindig itt játszottunk a körfolyosón, és ha túl hangosak voltunk, a házmester ránk kiabált. Sok velem egykorú gyerek volt ott, zsidó gyerekek, és a szülők is mind ismerték egymást, és sokszor be is ugrottak egymáshoz látogatóba. Volt például az ötödiken egy zongoratanár, tőle kezdtem zongorázni tanulni. Nekünk nem volt zongoránk, de az alattunk lakónak volt, és lemehettem hozzájuk gyakorolni.

Két éves voltam, amikor anyám hirdetést adott fel, hogy felvenne egy becsületes, dolgos háztartási alkalmazottat, és erre jelentkezett a Boris. Boris legalább 40 évig szolgált a szüleimnél. 1920-ban jött, és túlélte apámat. Apám nagyon ügyelt arra, hogy minél alacsonyabb rangú volt valaki, annál udvariasabb volt vele. Ha valami probléma volt köztem és a Boris között, mindig neki adott igazat. Boris a konyhában lakott. Szinte családtag volt. Főzött és takarított és vásárolt is. És veszekedett. Mert házsártos vénlány volt. Apám, amikor fölvette őt, bejelentette az OTI-ba [Országos Társadalombiztosító Intézet; az OTI 1929. január elsején kezdte meg működését, elődje az 1907. évi XIX. tc.-kel létrehozott Országos Munkásbetegsegélyező és Balesetbiztosító Pénztár volt. Magyarországon egyébként 1891-ben tették kötelezővé a munkások betegség elleni biztosítását, és az említett 1907. évi tc.-kel terjesztették ki a betegbiztosítást a biztosítottak családtagjaira. – A szerk.], ami akkoriban nem volt sem kötelező, sem divat. Úgyhogy szép nyugdíjat kapott. A háború alatt visszament Csepelre, és aztán megint visszajött hozzánk.

Én három és fél éves koromban orvul megtanultam olvasni, nem mondtam meg senkinek. Rengeteg mindenféle volt nálunk. Azok az újságok és folyóiratok, amiket nem vettek át az előfizetők, visszamentek a postára, így édesapám garmadával hozta haza a finom olvasnivalót. Engem idegesített, hogy ezzel nem tudok mit kezdeni, úgyhogy amikor sétálni voltunk, kérdezgettem, mi milyen betű, és kezdtem szépen összerakni. Hozta apukám „Az Est” nevű bulvárlapot [„Az Est”: 1910–1939 között megjelenő politikai napilap, délutáni lap, kiadója Miklós Andor; 1919-től az Est-lapok – „Az Est”, „Pesti Napló”, „Magyarország” – egyike. – A szerk.], azt is olvastam elsőtől az utolsó betűig. Amikor négy és fél éves lehettem, mondtam, én tudok olvasni. „Jó” – mondták. „De tényleg tudok olvasni. Bebizonyítsam?” „Mutasd.” „Ez Az Est.” „Jó, hát tudod, hogy ez Az Est.” „Igen?” – mondtam én és fellapoztam. „Baltával feldarabolta vadházastársát.” A szüleim egymásra néztek, khm, mondták, aha. És erre eldugták „Az Est”-et. Akkor a telefonkönyvet olvastam. Apám megsajnált engem, azt mondta, „Ne kínlódjál, én hozok neked könyvet, hogy olvassál”. És elhozta nekem Geréb Józseftől az „Olympos” című görög regéket [Geréb József: Olympos, görög-római mythologia, Budapest, 1898. – A szerk.]. És én mint az őrült elkezdtem olvasni, és olvasok a mai napig.

Apám  az „Orvosi Hetilap”-tól kezdve a „Kertészek Lapjá”-ig mindent hozott haza, volt ott irodalmi folyóirat, „Múlt és Jövő”, „Egyenlőség”, „Nyugat” [1908–1941, a század eleji megújulás szervezője, évtizedeken át a magyar irodalom meghatározó folyóirata. Főszerkesztője Ignotus volt, szerkesztői Fenyő Miksa és Osvát Ernő; Osvát halála után, 1929-től Babits Mihály, Móricz Zsigmond és Gellért Oszkár szerkesztették. – A szerk.]. A reggeli lap volt a „Pesti Napló”, ebéd után „Az Est”, és délután a „Magyarország”. [A „Pesti Napló” (1850–1939), 1920-ban került Miklós Andor tulajdonába, reggeli lap, a két világháború közötti irodalom jelentős fóruma volt; a „Magyarország” (1893–1944) esti politikai napilap, 1918 után a polgári ellenzék lapja, 1920-tól az Est Lapkiadó Rt. adta ki. Az 1930-as években a népi írók sajtóorgánuma, 1939-től nacionalista kormánypárti lap. – A szerk.] Azt is hozta haza. Anyám mindent a világon elolvasott a kertészeti szaklaptól az orvosiig, apám nem. Ő főleg a zsidó jellegű dolgokat olvasta el. Apám csak magyarul olvasott – nem volt nagy nyelvtehetség –, és borzasztóan szerette a klasszikus jellegű dolgokat, az ógörögöt meg a latint. Ógörögöt tudott az iskolából. De olvasott német és  magyar klasszikusokat is. Sajnos amikor 1925-ben kiderült, hogy édesanyám tüdőgyulladásából visszamaradt egy kis tébécés góc, akkor eladta a százkötetes Jókait. Anyám mindent olvasott, németül is. Dr. Langer Norbertnek kölcsönkönyvtára volt az Andrássy úton, oda voltunk beíratva, és onnan kölcsönöztük a könyveket. Édesapám vett is könyveket, de nem annyit, mint amennyit szeretett volna.

Apámnak teljesen elég volt a család társasága. Anyámnak volt egy saját társasága, amelytől engem teljesen távol tartott. Nem tudom, hol találkoztak. Ő nagyon önálló volt. Anyukámnak volt egy nagyon furcsa barátnője – az nem volt zsidó –, még Kassáról, Kolacskovszky Gittának hívták. Egy csúnya, kicsi vénlány rettenetesen furcsa és modern nézetekkel és szabadszájúsággal. Olyan témákról is nyugodtan beszélt, amikről nem szoktak. Apám nagyon dühös volt rá, azt mondta, ő szoktatta rá anyámat a cigarettázásra. Édesapámnak volt egy legeslegjobb barátja élete végéig, aki zsidó volt, akivel, azt hiszem, osztálytársak voltak. A jogra együtt jártak, és aztán mind a ketten a postára mentek állásba, de az Ödön bácsi csakhamar otthagyta, és egy rokonának a nagykereskedésébe ment, mert az anyagilag jobb volt. Állandóan összevesztek, de egymás nélkül nem tudtak élni.

7-8 éves koromtól kezdve az apai nagymamámhoz jártam nyaralni, egészen 14-15 éves koromig. Egész nyáron Felpécen voltam. Nyár elején levittek a szüleim, aztán visszahoztak. Felpécen legnagyobbrészt a padláson ültem a százlábúk között a porban, szörnyű hőségben, és az apám által az első háború alatt odaküldött sajtótermékeket – „Érdekes Újság” és társai, „Nyugat” – és jó magyar írók könyveit olcsó kiadásban [valószínűleg a Gyulai Pál, majd Heinrich Gusztáv szerkesztésében 1875-ben indult Olcsó Könyvtár köteteiről van szó, amely egyébként színvonalas magyar irodalom mellett az elsők között adott az olvasók kezébe Tolsztoj, Taine, Storm, C. F. Meyer, Csehov, Balzac stb. műveket, szépirodalmat éppúgy, mint értekező prózát. – A szerk.], azt olvastam. Én az első világháború kulturális és hadi helyzetéről sokkal jobban voltam értesülve 7-8 évesen, mint arról, ami akkor körülöttem volt, mert a nagyszüleim aktuális sajtót nem vettek. Az újságokon kívül még az állatok érdekeltek. Sokszor kimentem az udvarra, és néztem a csirkéket és tyúkokat, a magatartásukat. Felpécen nem nagyon volt gyerektársaságom. Aztán egyszer-kétszer előfordult, hogy apám otthon maradt, mert nem volt szabadsága, és anyámmal elmentünk Kassára a nagymamához [Kassa a trianoni békeszerződés óta Csehszlovákiához tartozott, ekkoriban, az 1920-as évek vége felé mintegy 70 000 fős nagyváros volt. – A szerk.]. De főleg Felpéc volt. Tízéves koromtól kezdve talán egy-két évig Siófokon voltunk egész nyáron. Aztán megint Felpécen voltam, amíg lehetett [Az apai nagymama, akinél Felpécen nyaralt, 1931-ben meghalt, az ott gazdálkodó Gyula nagybácsi pedig hamarosan Kapuvárra költözött. – A szerk.], és aztán jött Győr.

A nagybátyám, a János, aki Győrött volt ügyvéd, oda is meghívott. Győrött ott volt az unokahúgom, aki két évvel fiatalabb volt, mint én, és annak nagy társasága volt, úgyhogy ott mindig volt program. Ott színház is volt, kirándulás is volt, mindenféle volt ott [Győr törvényhatósági jogú város, Győr-Moson-Pozsony vm. székhelye, az 1930-as években 51 000 főnyi lakossággal. – A szerk.]. Azonkívül a nagybátyámnak volt egy nyaralója egy faluban Győr mellett. És oda átvonultunk, a nyaralóba. Ott folyt a Marcal, oda mentünk fürödni. Ott nem nagyon volt társaság, de nem unatkoztunk. Járt nekünk például „Az Én Újságom” című gyermeklap, és annak mindig voltak pályázatai, azokra mi bőszülten készültünk. [„Az Én Újságom” tekinthető az első irodalmi értékű magyar gyermeklapnak (Móra Ferenc is sokszor publikált benne), Benedek Elek és Pósa Lajos indította 1889-ben. 55 éven át jelent meg, egészen 1944-ig. Benedek Elek kiválása után Pósa szerkesztette a lapot, majd halála után, 1914–1936 között Gaál Mózes. – A szerk.]. Úgyhogy nagyon el voltunk foglalva. Egy hiányzott csak nekem, hogy állatok nemigen voltak.

A Gyula nagybátyám, aki Felpécen gazdálkodott, anyja halála után Kapuvárra költözött. Mondták neki, most már ne túrja a földet, hanem kap valami funkciót a malom irodájában, ami Sándor nagybácsié volt, jöjjön oda. Úgyhogy akkor Kapuvárra jártam nyaralni egészen 18 éves koromig. Külföldre nem jártunk a szüleimmel. 17 éves koromban meghívott engem a Bécsben élő nagybátyám, a Béla, és ott töltöttem két hetet. Hát az nagyszerű volt, el voltam bűvölve. 

Hatéves koromtól kezdve zsidó iskolába jártam. Ott mindent megtanítottak. Azért ide jártam, mert közel volt, és másodikban már nem kellett engem kísérni. A Klauzál utcában laktunk, és ez a zsidó iskola a Wesselényi utcában volt. Az írás-olvasást azt szerettem, a számtant nem szerettem, az egyebet se szerettem. Egy tanító nénink volt, az tanított mindent. A leánygimnázium igazgatójának (Wirth Kálmán) a felesége. Nagyon nem szerettem. Először is nagyon csúnya volt, másodszor is nagyon elfogult volt a gazdag gyerekek javára, harmadszor is, ő se szeretett engem. Élénk gyerek voltam, és nagyon csúnyán írtam. Ez a két rossz tulajdonságom volt. És az órákon nagyon sokszor fordult elő, hogy halálosan unatkoztam, mert mindazt tudtam már, amit ő tanított. Borzasztó dolgokat csináltam: négykézláb mászkáltam a padok között, és belecsíptem a lányoknak a lábába, a nyakukba öntöttem rajzórán a festékes üveget. Hát ez nem tett engem népszerűvé. Az osztálytársaim között voltak azért, akikkel nagyon jóban voltam. Főleg azokkal, akikkel együtt mentünk és együtt jöttünk, mert közel laktak. Azokkal még most is jóban vagyunk.

Én akartam gimnáziumba menni. Amikor elvégeztem a négy elemit, azt mondták a szüleim, hogy én szegény gyerek vagyok, most át kell hogy menjek a kereskedelmi iskolába [lásd: kereskedelmi iskolák], hogy hamar pénzt tudjak keresni. Tomboltam, őrjöngtem, hogy nem akarok irodába menni, nem akarok írógépelést csinálni. Nagyon szerettem tanulni. A zsidó lánygimnáziumba jártam, ami akkor még a Munkácsy utcában volt. Elég rozoga volt az épület, de mi borzasztóan szerettünk ott lenni. Emlékszem, kevesebb volt az osztályterem, mint ahány osztály volt. Ezért valamelyik osztály mindig a templomhelyiségben volt. Ezt imádtuk, mert ha leültünk, akkor az arcunkig ért a pad, nem látszottunk ki mögüle, és azt csinálhattunk, amit akartunk, mert nem látott minket a tanár.

A gimnáziumban nagyon jól éreztem magam. Úgy éreztem, hogy a helyemen vagyok. Az osztályfőnökünk, Zsoldos Jenő nagy tudós volt, nagyon komoly és szigorú [Zsoldos Jenő (1896–1972) – irodalomtörténész. nyelvész, 1920-tól a Pesti Izraelita Hitközség leánygimnáziumának (később Anna Frank Gimnázium) tanára, 1939–1965 között igazgatója. 30 éven át állandó munkatársa volt a „Magyar Nyelvőr”-nek, főleg szótártörténeti dolgozatokat publikált, a reformkor nyelvével és a munkásmozgalom szókincsének kutatásával foglalkozott. – A szerk.]. Ő már az első nap felfigyelt rám, és attól kezdve a szemét rajtam tartotta – magyar, helyesírás, fogalmazás –, és ez nekem nagyon tetszett. Zsoldos szellemi apánk, mindent neki köszönhetünk: a műveltségünket, azt, hogy tudunk helyesen írni és magyarul beszélni. Magyart és latint tanított. Egy szép fiatalember volt, amikor kezdtük, aztán majd a temetésén is ott voltunk az osztályból, de csak ketten. Hajdu Sámuel volt a hittantanár. Héber szöveget olvastunk és fordítottunk, és a bibliai hébernek a nyelvtanát is tanultuk.

Elég magas tandíj volt, nemigen jártak ide, csak nagyon-nagyon jó tanulók, azok tandíjmentességet kaptak, különben a zsidó elit gyermekei jártak ide. Abban az időben még nem is volt nagyon általános, hogy gimnáziumba járassák a lányokat. Egyébként én nagyon büszke vagyok arra, hogy odajártam [lásd: érettségizettek aránya 1930-ban és érettségizettek aránya 1940-ben].

Amikor harmadikos voltam, akkorra épült föl az Abonyi utcában egy modern iskolaépület [a mai Radnóti Miklós Gyakorló Gimnázium és Általános Iskola – A szerk.] Teniszpálya is volt, lehetett szabadtéren tornázni, teniszezni. Fizikaterem, kémiaterem, rajzterem. Kényelmes, szép, a kornak megfelelően modern. Nem tudom, hogy a Munkácsy utcába mennyien jártunk, de az új nagy épületben az Abonyi utcában majdnem hétszázan voltunk lányok. Tanultunk főzni, természetesen kóserül. Disznóhús nem volt, majdnem mindig baromfi volt. De nem emlékszem, hogy a tejes és a húsos el lett volna különítve [lásd: étkezési törvények]. Sült csirke volt meg piros káposzta meg húsleves. Erre emlékszem. Sütemény nem volt akkor.

Ez egy ikerépület volt (az egyik felén a lányok, a másikon a fiúk voltak). Az összes emeleten ugyanazon a helyen volt egy ajtó, amely kulccsal volt bezárva, és tudtuk, hogy mögötte vannak a fiúk. No de volt tánctanfolyam délután, és oda jöhettek a fiúk. Volt osztálytársnőm, akinek volt fiúja abból a parallel osztályból. Nekem nem. Nekem, amikor nyaralni mentem családilag Kapuvárra, ott volt egy fiú, 14 éves koromban, aki tartott 18 éves koromig, de csak nyáron. Aztán 18 éves koromban eluntam, és írtam neki egy szakító levelet. Az egyik osztálytársnőmnél, akik nagy társasági életet éltek, ott voltak fiúk, meg nagyon kitűnő emberek voltak ott mindig. A nővére zeneakadémista volt, annak aztán rendkívül érdekes társasága volt. S mivel nagyon közel laktunk, majdnem minden nap ott koslattam. Ugyanazokkal barátkoztam a gimnáziumban, akikkel átjöttünk az elemiből, de volt más is, akivel összebarátkoztunk. A gimnáziumban nem volt  elkülönülés a gazdagabbak meg a kevésbé gazdagok közt, mint az elemiben, de tudtuk. Nem barátkoztam gazdagabbakkal, azoknak megvolt a maguk köre. Én szimpatizáltam velük, de messze is laktak, azok az Újlipótvárosban laktak [A Nagykörút és a Margit híd elkészülte után Lipótváros folytatásaként a körút vonalától északra emelkedő új városrész neve. Budapest kerületei és városrészei mind felekezeti, mind foglalkozási megoszlás szerint némileg eltérő képet mutattak. A budapesti zsidóság túlnyomó része a belső pesti kerületekben élt: a VII. kerületben 35%, az V.-ben 34%, a VI.-ban 32% volt a zsidóság részaránya. A két világháború közötti időszakban kiépülő, az V. kerülethez tartozó Újlipótváros elsősorban a zsidó értelmiség és a zsidó középpolgárság lakóhelyének számított. (Lackó Miklós: Budapest társadalma a két világháború között. In Horváth Miklós /szerk./: Budapest története V., Budapest, Akadémiai, 1980.) – A szerk.].

Érettségi után a Zeneakadémiára mentem volna, de csak magántanuló lehettem, mert rontottam volna az arányt mint zsidó [lásd: zsidótörvények Magyarországon]. Két év után abbahagytam, mert rájöttem, hogy nem vagyok elég tehetséges. Akkor kerültem be a Vándor-kórusba. Ennek a vezetője egy zseniális muzsikus volt, Venetianer Sándor, abból a híres Venetianer olasz zsidó családból, amely rengeteg tudóst és művészt adott annak az országnak, ahol éppen élt [Vándor (Venetianer) Sándor (1901–1945) – karmester és zeneszerző. 1919-ben a forradalmi diáktanácsot szervezte, emiatt 1920-tól az ország valamennyi iskolájából kizárták. Berlinben, Lipcsében tanult, Olaszországban operai korrepetitor volt. 1932-ben tért haza. 1936-ban átvette a Szalmáskórus tagjainak egy részéből alakult énekkar vezetését, később ez az énekkar Vándor-kórus néven vált ismertté. Terjesztette és népszerűsítette Bartók és Kodály műveit, számos József Attila-költeményt zenésített meg. 1944 novemberében a nyilasok Sopronbánfalvára hurcolták, 1945 januárjában belehalt a kínzásokba. (A Budapesti Vándor Kórus napjainkban is működik.) – A szerk.]. Azonkívül ő is lelkes baloldali volt, és baloldali művészek baloldali kórusműveit énekeltük. Itt voltam én szólista. Egy udvarlómon keresztül kerültem ide, és ő beszélt nekem a szocializmusról is. Nagyon lelkes voltam.

Ezen keresztül beléptem a Természetbarátok Turista Egyesületébe,  ami egy baloldali egyesület volt, és Horányban volt turistatelepük. [Természetbarátok Turista Egyesülete: 1910-ben alakult a magyar munkásság természetjáró szervezeteként, az MSZDP és a szakszervezetek irányításával. Célja egyfelől a munkásság szabadidős tevékenységének szervezése, az egészséges élet lehetőségeinek biztosítása, a természet megszerettetése, másfelől a munkásöntudat és a szolidaritás erősítése volt. A tagok menedékházakat, üdülőket építettek (ezek egyike volt a horányi üdülő), gondozták és turistajelzésekkel látták el a turistautakat. Az első világháború utáni években erős kommunista befolyás érvényesült az egyesületben, a szociáldemokrata vezetés nem tudott gátat vetni az új irányvonalnak: a menedékházak, üdülők illegális találkozók színhelyei lettek, a kirándulásokon gyakran tartottak politikai szemináriumot a résztvevők számára. A második világháború előtti években a TTE a munkásság egyik legfontosabb szervezetévé fejlődött, tagjainak száma ekkorra megközelítette a 80 ezret. – A szerk.] Esténként politikai és kulturális előadásokat tartottak nekünk, mindenféléről, magyar irodalomról, világirodalomról. Mindig az adott elő, akinek ez volt a szakja. Kitűnő szakemberek. Aztán meg kirándultunk, énekeltünk együtt. Minden hétvégén volt tábor, és akinek volt ideje, hajóra ült és odament. Nagyon jó volt. Nagyon boldog voltam itt, nagyon jól éreztem magam, egészen a sötét idők kezdetéig [a zsidó törvényekig]. Akkor szétszóródtunk. Itt voltak zsidók és nem zsidók egyaránt, de ez sosem volt téma. Itt mindenki életre-halálra szocialista volt.

Az első férjemmel, Tibor Györggyel a Zeneakadémián ismerkedtem meg. Ő akkor már végzett, és ő hegedűs volt. 1943-ban házasodtunk titokban, mert nem helyeselték volna a szüleim, mert nem volt egzisztenciája, munkaszolgálatos volt. Meg az ő apja sem, mert ő azt akarta, hogy a fiából világhírű hegedűszólista művész legyen, és egy korai nősülés lerántja őt rögtön a hétköznapokba. De kiderült, és akkor kivettünk egy albérleti szobát. Én latinórákat adtam, nagyon jól kerestem, volt vagy húsz tanulóm, a férjem pedig az akkori székesfővárosi zenekarban hegedült. Nem lehetett a zenekar rendes tagja mint zsidó, csak napidíjas volt, de nagyon jól megvolt. Majdnem minden nap el volt foglalva.

1944-ben, amikor a zsidókat összeköltöztették csillagos házakba, a Rózsa utca 48. lett zsidó ház (a szüleim a Rózsa utca 50-ben laktak). Át kellett menni egy szörnyűséges udvari lakásba, és onnan nekem ki kellett menni a KISOK-pályára, és onnan a téglagyárba. Oda kijött Wallenberg, és nekünk volt svéd menlevelünk, úgyhogy kijöhettem. Mi alapítottuk meg a svéd védett házakat a Szent István parkban 1944 novemberében. Hazarohantam a szüleimért, hogy ők is jöjjenek oda. A férjemet sikerült még 1944. novemberben vagy decemberben kihozni a munkaszolgálatból. Borzasztó állapotban volt, és azt mondtam, most pedig te lefekszel, és ha leszakad a plafon, akkor sem mozdulsz onnan, mert súlyos beteg vagy. Az anyámékat elcsábította egy rokon a szomszéd utcába, hogy az a védett ház jobb lesz. A férjem meg én ott maradtunk végig a Szent István parkban. Jöttek persze nyilasok a házba, de nekünk saját nyilasunk volt, és ő megvédett. A házparancsnok egy nagyon ravasz idős ember volt, azt mondta, hogy neki van egy ismerőse, egy borbély, aki belépett a nyilas pártba [lásd: Nyilaskeresztes Párt]. Ha mindenki minden nap ad húsz pengőt (hatszázan voltunk), és ezt összeadjuk, akkor ő ideköltözik, és nem engedi, hogy elvigyenek minket. Meg is történt. Odaköltözött. Minden este össze lett szedve a húsz pengő és megkapta, amit azonmód el is ivott óriási dalolások közepette. Másnap reggel mindig alig bírtunk életet verni bele, hogy kiálljon és elküldje a többi nyilast. Aztán amikor bejöttek az oroszok, a szemközti házmesterné azt mondta, hogy itt van egy nyilas. Mire mi körülvettük a nyilast, és azt mondtuk, ez egy álnyilas, ennek köszönhetjük az életünket, ehhez mi nem engedünk senkit hozzáférni. Megmaradt a nyilas.

A férjem a háború után rögtön jelentkezett az Operaháznál, és rögtön fel is vették a zenekarba. Fizetés nem volt, hanem mindenki kapott olyan élelmiszert, amit az Opera meg tudott szerezni. Aztán az Operettszínháznak lett a hangversenymestere, aztán később a Rádiózenekarban volt. Egy ismerősünk visszament a saját lakásába, és üresen maradt az a lakás, amiben a háború alatt volt, oda beköltöztünk. Kétszobás udvari lakás volt, és sötét. Központi fűtése volt, ami természetesen nem működött. Volt konyha, fürdőszoba. Addig maradtunk, amíg meg nem hallottam, hogy itt, a VI. kerületben – ahova engem mindig húzott a szívem – egy lakás üres lett, ami ugyan szuterén volt, de besütött a nap. És onnan én 1952-ben költöztem ide. Ezt a lakást úgy kaptuk, hogy itt a házmester szabó volt, és a férjem nála alakíttatta és javíttatta a ruháit. Az szólt, hogy itt meghalt ennek a lakásnak a lakója. Ez egy hármas társbérlet volt. Két szoba volt a miénk, közös konyha, közös fürdőszoba, húsz évig. Aztán leválasztottuk egy részét, maradt két szoba, és azt megtartottam a férjem halála után is, hogyha hazajön a testvérem Kubából, hadd tudjon valahol lakni. Egy pillanatig nem lakott itt, s aztán benne ragadtam. 

Az első férjemmel a baráti kör főleg a kollégák, zenészek, muzsikusok voltak. És 1956-ban [lásd: 1956-os forradalom] a barátaink legnagyobb része elment, aztán mi elváltunk 1957-ben, és nem is igen maradt olyan barát, aki ővele lett volna közös. Azt hiszem, 1960-ban távozott Németországba. Voltunk is nála látogatóban a második férjemmel.

A háború után bekerültem a férjem révén egy egészen más körbe, és akkor kezdtem a kottákkal foglalkozni. A férjem hazahozta nekem – akkor már az Operettszínházban dolgozott – az új darab partitúráját, és abból kellett kiírnom az egyes szólamokat az egyes zenészek részére. Így kezdtem. Aztán fölvett a Szerzői Jogvédő Hivatal, és ott megtanultam megfejteni mindenféle kéziratot, a zeneszerzők írását kiolvasni, és az esetleges hibáikat kijavítani. Később a Zeneműnyomdában, aztán a Zeneműkiadóban dolgoztam. Nagyon jó volt, nagyon szerettem, és jól meg is fizették.

A második férjemet, Andai Ernőt a  Szerződi Jogvédő Hivatalban ismertem meg 1957-ben, ott dolgozott. 1900-ban született Budapesten. Mindenféle iskolát végzett, még két év teológiát is. Én a negyedik felesége voltam, és én voltam az első zsidó felesége. Ő ki volt térve, de az én kedvemért visszatért, mert én nem akartam egy keresztény embernek a felesége lenni. Hitközségi adót fizettünk, de nem jártunk templomba. Amikor megalakult a zsidó gimnázium barátainak a köre, akkor oda fizettem minden hónapban, és nagyon sok találkozót is tartottunk. A férjem a zsidó temetőben van eltemetve.

A holokauszt alatt bujdosott. Minden nap máshol aludt. A barátnői mindig elrejtették. Hét évig úgy élt, hogy délben nem tudta, hol fog aludni aznap este. A Színművészeti Főiskolán [A korabeli intézmény neve: Színművészeti Akadémia volt. – A szerk.] is végzett, és sikeres színműíró volt – a Nemzeti Színházban harminc darabját adták elő. [A Révai Nagylexikon az alábbi szócikket tartalmazza Andai Ernőről: „író, újságíró, szül. Budapest, 1900 júl. 22. 1921–24. a Várszínház színésze és főrendezője volt. Főbb művei: Soha ilyen tavaszt (1927, a Pantheon Mikszáth-díjának nyertese); Álmok asszonya (1927); Tengertánc (1929); Nyári kaland (1932) regények. Porcellán (1931); Aranyfüst (1932) színdarabok.” – A szerk.] Csak aztán a felszabadulás után nem vették fel az Írószövetségbe, mondván, hogy ő az úri osztályt szolgálta ki. És kész. Nem volt hajlandó többet írni. Aztán a barátai behozták a Szerzői Jogvédő Hivatalba, és ott dolgozott nyugdíjig. Nem nagyon volt társasági életünk, mert nem volt időm a munka mellett.

Rachelle Muzicant

Oktober 2007

Frau Muzicant, die Mutter des Präsidenten der Israelitischen Kultusgemeinde Wien, ist eine liebe und sympathische Dame, mit der ich gern zusammen sitze und mich unterhalte. Bei fast jedem Treffen in ihrer Wohnung, steht frisch gebackener wunderbar schmeckender Kuchen auf dem Tisch, und sie erzählt mir ihre Lebensgeschichte - lachend und weinend.

Meine Familiengeschichte
Meine Kindheit
Während des Krieges
Nach dem Krieg
Mein Leben in Israel
Wien
Glossar

Meine Familiengeschichte

Ich habe nur meine Großeltern mütterlicherseits gekannt. Dass ich nichts über die Eltern meines Vaters weiß, verfolgt mich seit langer Zeit. Aber es ist zu spät - es gibt niemanden mehr, den ich fragen kann. Wie ist es möglich, dass ich nichts weiß? Man kann sich gar nicht vorstellen, dass Holocaust - Überlebende ihren Kindern und der Familie nichts erzählt haben. Ich frage mich jetzt immer wieder: wer waren sie, diese Grosseltern? Ich hab keine Ahnung! Es gibt kein Foto, es gibt nichts! Ich weiß nicht einmal, wie sie hießen. Wieso habe ich als Kind nicht nach ihnen gefragt? Warum habe ich nicht gesagt: ‚Wo sind deine Eltern, Papa?’ Mein Vater hat noch gelebt, da war ich schon erwachsen, aber das ist irgendwie verloren gegangen. Man war jung, man hat sie nicht gekannt, man war damit nicht konfrontiert.

Ich bin ohne Großeltern, ohne Tanten und Onkel aufgewachsen, denn die Familie mütterlicherseits hat in Bessarabien [Anm.: heute zum Teil Moldawien und zum Teil Ukraine] gewohnt. Der Ort heißt Tighina und liegt am Westufer des Flusses Dnister. Das war zu dieser Zeit in der Nähe der Grenze zwischen Russland und Rumänien. 1918 kam Tighina aber, als Teil Bessarabiens, zu Rumänien. Nach dem 2. Weltkrieg gehörte das Gebiet zur Ukraine, jetzt zu Moldawien.

Die Eltern meiner Mutter habe ich nur einmal gesehen. Der Großvater hieß Zwi Sultanovici und war ein ehrwürdiger alter Mann mit einem weißen Bart. Die Grosseltern besaßen in Tighina ein großes Geschäft mit Porzellan und Haushaltsartikeln. Die Reise von Galatz [Rumänien], wo wir gelebt haben, bis nach Tighina kam mir wie eine Weltreise vor. Vielleicht waren es gar nicht so viele Stunden, aber man musste mit dem Zug und mit dem Bus fahren, und damals war man das nicht so gewöhnt - man ist noch nicht soviel  herumgefahren wie heute. Meine Brüder waren öfter bei den Großeltern, die waren 8 und 10 Jahre älter als ich. Vielleicht war es für meine Mutter zu beschwerlich mit drei Kindern zu fahren. Ich war vielleicht sechs oder sieben Jahre alt, als ich das erste und einzige Mal meine Großeltern gesehen habe.

Meine Mutter hatte in Tighina auch noch einen Bruder und eine Schwester. Der Bruder hieß Zadik Sultanovici. Er war verheiratet mit Sima, die Tochter hieß Etka. Sie war meine einzige Cousine mütterlicherseits und zwei oder drei Jahre älter als ich. Die Schwester meiner Mutter hieß Manja. Sie war mit Josef verheiratet, sie hatten aber keine Kinder. Manja wurde krank und ist gestorben, ich weiß gar nicht, woran sie gestorben ist.

Als wir zu Besuch bei den Grosseltern waren, haben wir in ihrem Haus gewohnt, in dem auch das Geschäft war. Auch mein Onkel Zadik und seine Familie haben in dem Haus gewohnt. Die Großmutter lag im Bett. Ich war nicht lange bei ihr, denn wir Kinder wurden rausgeschickt zum Spielen. Wir sollten nicht mitkriegen, wie krank die Großmutter war. Sie ist dann auch gestorben.

Leider sind diese Verwandten dort geblieben und nicht geflüchtet. Zuerst kamen 1940 die Russen und haben Bessarabien besetzt. Für die Russen war mein Großvater ein Kapitalist, ein Bourgeois. Er hat wahrscheinlich seine Ware, die er im Keller gelagert hatte, nicht deklariert, und das war ein Verbrechen für die Russen. Für so etwas wurden die Leute verhaftet und in Lager gesteckt. Mein Onkel Zadik starb vor 1940, mein Großvater, meine Tante und meine Cousine wurden von den Russen zum Polarkreis deportiert. Der Großvater ist bereits unterwegs gestorben, ich weiß nicht einmal, wo. Meine Tante Sima hat am Polarkreis mit ihrer Tochter Etka unter schrecklichen Verhältnissen gelebt, und hat uns und einem ihrer Brüder, der in Rumänien gelebt hat, Briefe geschrieben, in denen stand, dass sie ihren Mann beneide, der vorher gestorben war. Die Familie hat versucht, ihnen zu helfen und Pakete geschickt. Aber zu dieser Zeit war das schwer, trotzdem haben auch meine Eltern getan, was nur möglich war. Mit falschem Namen ist es dann meiner Tante und ihrer Tochter gelungen, in etwas südlichere Regionen zu kommen. Nach dem Krieg haben sie es nach Czernowitz geschafft, das wieder zur Sowjetunion gehörte. Viel später erfuhren wir, dass Etka nach dem Krieg Medizin studiert hatte und Ärztin geworden war. Sie hatten während des Krieges soviel Schreckliches erlebt und große Angst, so dass sie mit niemand im Ausland Kontakte haben wollten, denn dies hätte sie gefährdet. Meine Eltern, meine Brüder und ich haben zu dieser Zeit bereits in Israel gelebt. Wir haben ein einziges Mal einen Brief nach dem Krieg von ihnen bekommen, da haben sie geschrieben, was sie alles mitgemacht haben. Das war nach 1957, da waren mein Mann und ich schon in Wien.

Meine Eltern sind beide im Jahre 1888 geboren, mein Vater Aron Lanis in Kishinew, meine Mutter Chana Sultanovici in Tighina. Beide Städte gehörten damals zum Russischen Reich, die Gegend war ein Teil der Provinz Bessarabien. 1918 wurde Bessarabien von Rumänien besetzt. Der Teil Bessarabiens aus dem meine Eltern kamen, war immer eine umstrittene Provinz. Immer wollten es die Rumänen und die Russen, es war schrecklich.

Meine Eltern haben sich in Moskau kennen gelernt. Meine Mutter hatte in Moskau Zahnmedizin studiert und als Zahnärztin gearbeitet. Das war noch in der Zarenzeit, also vor 1918. Meine Mutter hat ohne ihre Familie in Moskau gelebt, und dort hat sie meinen Vater kennen gelernt. Mein Vater hatte Chemie studiert. Wie sie sich kennen gelernt haben, weiß ich nicht, aber wahrscheinlich auf der Universität. Aber das kann ich nicht genau sagen. Während des Studiums wurden sie bestimmt durch die Familien unterstützt, denn ich weiß, dass meine Eltern in jungen Jahren sogar auf der Krim 1 Urlaub gemacht haben.

1916 oder 1917 haben meine Eltern in Moskau geheiratet. Meine Mutter war eine sehr schöne Frau, aber schüchtern und introvertiert. Mein Vater war eher ein Lebemann und sehr eifersüchtig. Sicher haben meine Eltern religiös geheiratet, denn sie kamen aus religiösen Familien. Aber fromm waren sie beide nicht, sie hatten auch keinen koscheren [Anm koscher.: nach jüdischen Speisevorschriften rituell; rein] Haushalt. Als 1917 die Oktoberrevolution in Russland begann, war meine Mutter schwanger. Wie die Revolution begonnen hat, gab es kein Heizmaterial mehr, und meine Eltern haben beschlossen, zu den Eltern, also zu meinen Großeltern mütterlicherseits, nach Tighina zu fahren. Sie haben geglaubt, die Kommunisten in Russland werden sich nur eine kurze Zeit halten können. Meine Mutter hat es aber nicht bis Tighina geschafft, auf dem Weg, in Tiraspol, hat sie meinen Bruder Leon entbunden. Tiraspol war die Grenze zwischen Russland und Rumänien. Meine Eltern sind danach erst einmal in Tighina geblieben, denn sie konnten durch die politischen Umstände in Russland nicht mehr zurück. Ihr Vermögen hatten sie in ihrer Moskauer Wohnung unter den Parkettbrettern versteckt, das ist dort geblieben - auf ewig. Einen Teil des Vermögens hatte mein Vater dem norwegischen Konsul in Moskau übergeben. Ich weiß nicht, wieso er zu ihm eine Beziehung hatte, ich weiß nur, dass es so war. Es war ausgemacht, dass, falls meine Eltern flüchten werden, der Botschafter das Vermögen in Verwahrung nimmt, und meine Eltern es sich von ihm holen. Aber mein Vater hat es nie gekriegt. Was passiert ist, weiß ich nicht.

Meine Eltern haben wieder von vorn angefangen. Meine Mutter hat aber nie wieder als Zahnärztin gearbeitet. In Bessarabien wurde viel Russisch gesprochen, aber auch Rumänisch und Jiddisch. Sie hätte ihren Doktor in Rumänien nostrifizieren müssen, aber ihr Rumänisch war zu schlecht. Sie hat es jedenfalls nicht geschafft zu nostrifizieren, und dann ist mein Bruder Moishe geboren.

Mein Vater war ein großer Zionist und sogar auf einem Zionistenkongress in Basel. Sein Cousin, er hieß Shenkar, war auch Zionist und ist 1917 aus Moskau, als meine Eltern nach Rumänien geflüchtet sind, mit seiner Frau nach Palästina geflüchtet. Sie sind dort geblieben, und Shenkar hat eine Textilfabrik, eine Unterwäschefabrik, aufgebaut. Lodzia hieß die Fabrik. In Israel gibt es Institutionen, die nach dem Cousin meines Vaters benannt wurden. Mein Vater ist Anfang der 1920er Jahre nach Palästina gefahren, um sich das Land anzusehen. Als er nach Palästina kam, hatte sein Cousin sich schon etwas aufgebaut. Aber für das Geld, das mein Vater besaß, hätte er nur ein Zrif kaufen können. Zrifs waren Umzugscontainer, in denen man gewohnt hat. Man hat Möbel in diese Container gebracht, dann hat man sie als Wohnung benützt. Holz war teuer in Palästina, und die Container waren aus Holz gemacht. Man konnte zum Beispiel am Strand von Tel-Aviv darin wohnen. Das war aber meinem Vater zu wenig, denn Rumänien war damals ein schönes und reiches Land, voller blühender Natur und bis jetzt noch unerforschter Reichtümer im Boden. Es gab Flüsse, Fische, Obst, Gold, Erdöl und das Meer - was kann man mehr haben. Also ist er nach Tighina zurückgekommen, und meine Eltern haben beschlossen, ich weiß nicht warum, sich in Galatz nieder zu lassen. Galatz liegt auch heute in Rumänien und ist eine Hafenstadt an der Donau. Damals war einer der Haupttransportwege der Transport auf der Donau. Es waren nicht die Züge - von Lastautos und Bussen war noch nicht einmal die Rede. Alles wurde mit großen Schiffen übers Schwarze Meer gebracht, auf Flussschiffe umgeladen und über die Donau bis nach Wien gebracht. Galatz war deshalb eine sehr kosmopolitische und interessante Stadt, in der Juden, Armenier, Griechen und natürlich Rumänen lebten. Warum mein Vater Galatz als unseren Wohnsitz ausgewählt hat, weiß ich nicht.

Mein Vater hat sich in Galatz eine Textilfabrik für Wollstoffe aufgebaut. Die Fabrik war am Rande von Galatz, in der Strada Trajan. Sie war für damalige Verhältnisse sehr groß. Wir haben Stoffe hergestellt, dicke Schals und so etwas ähnliches wie Loden für die Bauern in der ganzen Gegend. Wie viele Angestellte für meinen Vater gearbeitet haben, weiß ich nicht, aber es müssen viele gewesen sein. Er hatte eigentlich eine komplette Fabrik. Er hat Wolle gekauft und davon Garn gemacht, das Garn gefärbt, den Stoff produziert und ihn dann verkauft. Aber eines Tages hat ein Feuer die Fabrik vernichtet. Das passierte vor dem 2. Weltkrieg. Es war keine Brandstiftung! Mein Vater hat die Fabrik nicht wieder aufgebaut, er hat dafür ein Geschäft im Zentrum von Galatz, in der Strada Mare [Anm.: rum. die große Straße], einen Stoffgroßhandel eröffnet, in dem es hauptsächlich Wollstoffe für Herren und für Damen gab. Damals hat man sich Kleider, Anzüge und Mäntel beim Schneider nach Maß anfertigen lassen. Es gab viele Schneidereien. Mein Vater stand selber in dem Geschäft und hatte drei rumänische Angestellte. In der Strada Mare waren die meisten Textilgeschäfte und Großhändler, die Stoffe verkauft haben. Viele Leute aus der Umgebung haben bei meinem Vater die Stoffe gekauft.

Meine Kindheit

Vor unserem Haus gab es einige wenige Stufen. Wenn man die Eingangstür öffnete, kam man in ein Vorzimmer. Nach dem Vorzimmer befanden sich unser Speisezimmer, das Büro meines Vaters, das Wohnzimmer, das Schlafzimmer meiner Eltern, das Zimmer meiner Brüder und mein Zimmer. Dann kam ein langer Gang, und da waren das Frühstückszimmer, Küche, Bad und zwei Zimmer für das Personal. In jedem Zimmer stand ein Kachelofen. Wir hatten einen großen Garten mit einem Volleyballplatz. Wir waren sehr sportlich, haben auch Tennis gespielt und sind Eislaufen gegangen. Auch zwei Hunde, das waren Mischlinge, gehörten zu unserer Familie. Puffi hieß der eine. Sie hatten Hundehütten im Garten.

Meine Brüder waren acht und zehn Jahre, als ich 1928 in Galatz geboren wurde. Meine Geburt war für sie und ihre Freunde eine Sensation. Ich hatte eine sehr schöne Kindheit, denn meine Brüder waren sehr lieb zu mir, und ich kannte alle ihre Freunde, weil sie regelmäßig Volleyball in unserem Garten spielten. Es war eine große, sehr schöne Gesellschaft - jüdische und christliche Kinder. Auch Mädchen waren dabei. Zwischen diesen Kindern bin ich aufgewachsen. Bis vor kurzem hatte ich noch Kontakt mit denen, die noch am Leben waren. Meine Brüder hatten auch Motorräder und haben mich immer mitgenommen, und als ich zehn Jahre alt war, haben meine Eltern mir ein Fahrrad gekauft.

Wir hatten immer ein schönes Familienleben. Mehrere Bedienstete und Mädchen, die im Haus wohnten, haben meiner Mutter im Haushalt geholfen. Meine Mutter war eine sehr gute Köchin. Noch viele Jahre später haben meine Freunde vom guten Essen meiner Mutter geschwärmt.

Mein Vater war sehr gebildet. Er hat meine Brüder, obwohl er nicht fromm war, religiös erzogen. Die meisten jüdischen Burschen gingen in die jüdische Schule, aber 
Leon und Moische sind in ein rumänisches Gymnasium gegangen, das sehr anspruchsvoll war - vergleichbar vielleicht mit dem Theresianum 2 in Wien.

Meine Mutter hatte nur wenige Freundinnen, weil sie introvertiert und entwurzelt war. Aber wir hatten immer Gesellschaften zu Hause. Die Gäste waren meist russische Juden, weil meine Mutter sich mit rumänischen Juden nicht anfreunden konnte. Ich habe, obwohl ich viel sozialer als meine Mutter bin, das auch empfunden, als ich nach Wien gekommen bin, weil ich niemanden gekannt habe. Es war hier auch so: die Polen, die Ungarn, die Juden - jeder lebte in einem kleinen Ghetto. Das ist eben so, jede Gruppe hat seinen eigenen Charakter. Die Bekannten meines Vaters waren Akademiker, hauptsächlich Anwälte und Ärzte. Zum Beispiel war ein sehr guter Freund meines Vaters Kinderarzt. Ich kann mich erinnern, dass ich auf diesen Gesellschaften Geschichten und Gedichte vorgetragen habe, zum Beispiel von Schalom Aleijchem 3 und Bialik 4. Mein jüngerer Bruder war auch so introvertiert wie meine Mutter. Mein älterer Bruder und ich sind uns sehr ähnlich. Wir haben den Charakter vom Vater - wir sind sehr lebenslustig.

Den Schabbat 5 haben wir nicht gefeiert, aber alle hohen Feiertage 6. Wir hatten Sitze für die hohen Feiertage in einer der schönsten Synagogen von Galatz. Vor Pessach 7 wurde zu Hause alles geputzt, und am Sederabend 8 bei dem wunderbaren Essen wurde immer gesagt, dass der Prophet Elia durch den Schornstein kommt - aber ich hab ihn nie gesehen!

Eine jüdische Schule für Mädchen gab es in Galatz nicht. Vis-a-vis unseres Hauses war der Kindergarten und die Volksschule der katholischen Nonnen. Beide habe ich besucht. Die Rumänen waren sehr große Nationalisten. Aber der kulturelle Einfluss der Franzosen war damals sehr groß. Rumänien war rumänisch-orthodox, aber auch sehr französisch. Es war zum Beispiel vornehm, Französisch zu sprechen. In den rumänischen orthodoxen Schulen gab es viele Antisemiten. Aber es gab eine gigantische Schule mit einem Internat, die französisch orientiert war. Das war eine Klosterschule, in die auch ich gegangen bin. Diese Schule war wunderschön, Notre Dame de Sion hieß sie. Auch ein Internat gehörte dazu. In diese Schule, die vom Staat anerkannt war, gingen viele jüdische Mädchen - in meiner Klasse waren vier oder fünf. Die Schule war fantastisch ausgestattet, es gab sogar einen riesengroßen Garten. Gelehrt wurde in rumänischer Sprache. Ich habe aber auch Französisch und Deutsch gelernt. Eine Lehrerin, das  alte Fräulein Berta, hat uns Schiller und Goethe gelehrt. Die deutsche Sprache und die deutsche Literatur sind mir geblieben. Dadurch war mir die ganze deutsche Kultur nicht fremd. Französisch war aber die erste Fremdsprache. Es gab auch Klaviere für uns Kinder und Physik - und Chemie-Säle. Die Atmosphäre in der Schule war wunderbar. Es gab überhaupt keinen Antisemitismus. Wir jüdischen Mädchen waren mit den christlichen Mädchen befreundet. In der Schule gab es auch Unterricht in Ethik. Da hat man uns Moral im besten Sinne gelehrt. Ein Teil unserer Nonnen hat auch in der Volksschule für arme Kinder gearbeitet, deren Eltern fürs Lernen nicht zahlen konnten. Da wurde auch Essen ausgegeben. Uns, deren Eltern genug Geld hatten, um das Schulgeld zu bezahlen, wurde ein Gefühl gegeben für Menschen, die wenig hatten. Ich hatte immer die Neigung zu helfen. Mir hat dieser Unterricht sehr viel gegeben.

Die Schule hatte auch eine wunderschöne Kirche mit herrlichen alten Fenstern. Damals gab es in den katholischen Kirchen Luxus mit Pomp, die Altäre waren voll Spitzen und Blumen. Für ein Kind wie mich war das wirklich wunderschön. Wir trugen dunkle Schuluniformen. Für die Feste und Feiertage besaßen wir weiße Krägen, weiße gestärkte Manschetten und weiße Handschuhe. Für besonders gute Schülerinnen gab es seidene Schleifen und Medaillen als Auszeichnung. Wenn wir in die Kirche gingen, hat man uns weiße Voiles gegeben. In der Kirche sind alle Mädchen zum Altar gegangen und standen in der Schlange vor dem Altar. Die katholischen Mädchen haben die Hostie bekommen, wir jüdischen Mädchen nicht. Das hat mich aber nicht gestört, ich habe mich nie als Außenseiterin gefühlt. Ich hätte aber auch gern gehabt, was die Katholiken haben - zum Beispiel Weihnachten mit der ganzen Familie und mit dem geschmückten Baum und den Geschenken zu feiern. Ich war ja ein Kind, und wir hatten keine Familie, nur ein paar Bekannte, die zu Chanukka 9 zu uns gekommen sind. Wenn ich jetzt zurücksehe, denke ich: das war eine sehr gute Erziehung, und mir hat das nicht geschadet. Ich habe auch nie den Wunsch verspürt, Katholikin zu werden, denn es wäre ja möglich gewesen, dass mich die Katholiken in der Schule von ihrer Religion überzeugt hätten. Das haben sie aber nie versucht.

Während des Krieges

Als meine Brüder mit der Schule fertig waren, hat mein Vater sie nach Brünn [tsch. Brno, heute Tschechien] auf die deutsche Technische Hochschule geschickt. Zuerst ging Leon, der Ältere, und später ging auch Moishe nach Brünn. In Brünn hatte Leon privat bei einer Hausfrau ein möbliertes Zimmer gemietet. Das war damals so üblich. Und als Moishe nach Brünn kam, haben beide zusammen in dem Zimmer gewohnt. Sie waren dort sehr glücklich. 1939 ist Hitler in Prag einmarschiert, da waren wir froh, dass meine Brüder zurückkommen sind. Sie kamen über Wien mit einem Schiff auf der Donau, mit dem Zug wäre es nicht mehr gegangen. Sie haben es gerade noch geschafft, aus Brünn wegzukommen.

Seit 1934 hatte sich Rumänien politisch an Deutschland angeschlossen. 1940 kamen die Russen und haben Bessarabien besetzt. 1941 flüchteten die Russen dann vor den Deutschen, aber da die Rumänen mit den Deutschen verbündet waren, waren die Deutschen in Rumänien keine Besatzungsmacht. Aber die Juden in Czernowitz und in dieser Umgebung zum Beispiel, die nicht mit den Russen geflüchtet waren, wurden von den Deutschen ermordet oder von den Rumänen nach Transnistrien 10 deportiert.
Wir sind in Galatz geblieben, die ganze Familie. Die jüdischen Männer, auch mein Vater und meine Brüder, wurden interniert. Aber es gab immer wieder Verhandlungen zwischen dem Vorsitzenden der jüdischen Gemeinde und dem rumänischen Ministerpräsidenten Ion Antonescu 11. Wir durften den Internierten sogar etwas Essen bringen, aber nicht viel. Wir haben nicht gewusst, was mit ihnen geschieht. Die Rumänen waren geteilt, es gab eine nationalistische Bewegung, die sehr antisemitisch war und Schreckliches angerichtet hat. Es haben an einigen Orten Pogrome stattgefunden, in Jassi zum Beispiel wurden Juden in einem Zug erschossen. Bekannte haben uns das erzählt, das waren Russen, wie meine Eltern. Aber bei uns in Galatz ist das nicht passiert. Die jüdischen Männer von Galatz wurden nach zwei, drei Wochen wieder nach Hause geschickt. Bis zum Ende des Krieges haben wir in unserem Haus gewohnt und „fast normal“ gelebt. Mein Vater durfte als Jude zwar sein Geschäft nicht weiter führen, aber er hatte vor dem Krieg Goldmünzen gekauft und diese Goldmünzen hat er in Blumentöpfen vergraben und langsam gegen alles eingetauscht, was wir zum Leben brauchten, denn wir durften sogar einkaufen gehen.

Als der Krieg begann, wurden die jüdischen Kinder aus der katholischen Schule hinausgeschmissen. Es wurde eine jüdische Schule für Mädchen eröffnet, in die ich dann gegangen bin. Das war kein Problem, denn Kinder gewöhnen sich schnell um. Wir haben uns alle angefreundet, und wir konnten uns sogar ganz normal in den Strassen bewegen. Wir haben uns oft bei mir getroffen, zusammen gespielt und als wir älter waren auch Schallplatten gehört und getanzt. Wenn zu den Feiertagen meine Eltern im Tempel waren, zum Beispiel zu Jom Kippur 12, waren immer viele jüdischen Burschen und Mädchen bei mir. Meine Eltern waren den ganzen Tag im Tempel, und wir haben machen können, was wir wollten. Sie haben das auch gewusst und hatten nichts dagegen. Zu Purim 13 haben wir uns verkleidet und zusammen gefeiert, wir hatten viel Spaß miteinander. Wir hatten in Galatz wirklich Glück! Mein Vater hat immer BBC London gehört, und dadurch hat er gewusst, dass man die Juden deportiert. Aber das ganze Ausmaß über die Ermordung der europäischen Juden haben wir erst nach dem Krieg erfahren.

Als die Russen 1944 in Galatz einmarschierten, waren wir glücklich, weil der Krieg für uns vorbei war. Die Truppen der Roten Armee sind durch die Strassen marschiert. Unter ihnen waren auch viele jüdische Soldaten. Einige von ihnen sind dann desertiert und in das damalige Palästina geflüchtet.

Nach dem Krieg

Ich bin die letzten zwei Schuljahre wieder in die katholische Schule Notre Dame de Sion zu den Nonnen gegangen und habe maturiert. Zum Abschied gab es eine wunderbare Maturafeier.

Eine neue Regierung hatte sich gebildet, in der auch Juden waren, die in Russland überlebt hatten. Es wurde nicht sofort begonnen alles zu verstaatlichen. Moishe, mein jüngerer Bruder, wollte unsere Fabrik wieder aufbauen, und mein Vater wollte ihm die Chance geben, denn Moishe war ein Fachmann. Er hat meinem Bruder einen Teil des noch vorhandenen Geldes gegeben, und der hat damit die Maschinen in Ordnung bringen lassen.

Ich bin dann nach Bukarest übersiedelt, weil ich Welthandel studieren wollte. Ich habe inskribiert und zwei Jahre an der Universität Bukarest studiert. Ich hatte eine kleine Garconniere gemietet und war sehr glücklich, denn Bukarest war sehr schön, ins besonders für mich überhaupt, da ich aus der Provinz kam. Es gab Theater und Konzerte - es war ein anderes Leben. Es war schon auch einiges durch den Krieg zerstört worden, aber es standen auch noch die alten schönen Häuser. Es gibt auch jetzt noch einige davon. Es war ein Leben im Wohlstand in Bukarest, es gab gegenüber der Provinzstadt, aus der ich kam, viel mehr Luxus. Ich war jung und lebenshungrig und wollte schon immer raus aus der Provinz.

Meine Gesellschaft damals waren Burschen und Mädchen meines Alters, mit denen ich mich sehr gut verstanden habe. Ich hatte ein wirklich schönes Jugendleben im Kreise meiner gleichaltrigen Freunde. Wir waren jener kleine Teil der jüdischen Jugend Europas, die den Holocaust fast nicht erlebt hatte. Die Burschen haben damals sogar ein Orchester gegründet.

Mein Mann hieß Gersh [Grisha] Muzicant. Er wurde am 12. Februar 1917 in Kishinew [Cishinoiu – Moldavien], das gehörte damals noch zum Königreich Österreich-Ungarn, geboren. Er war ein Freund meiner Brüder, denn seine Eltern sind, als er noch ein Kind war, nach Galatz übersiedelt. Ich glaube, einige seiner Geschwister sind in Galatz geboren. Gesehen haben wir uns schon in meiner Kindheit, aber er hat sich nicht für mich interessiert und ich mich nicht für ihn, denn er war zehn Jahre älter als ich. Ich habe ihn erst in Bukarest bei meinem Bruder Leon kennen gelernt. Leon hatte 1941 in Galatz Rosika, ein jüdisches Mädchen, in das er immer verliebt gewesen war, geheiratet. Sie sind 1943 nach Bukarest gezogen. In Bukarest war es für Juden nicht gefährlich. Sie haben sich dort eine Wohnung gekauft und zusammen gelebt. Nach meiner Matura, das war 1947, habe ich Leon und Rosika in Bukarest besucht. Da war ich auch das erste Mal am Meer, denn Rosika und ihre Schwester sind mit mir für eine Woche auf Sommerfrische nach Carmen Silva  [heute: Eforie Sud; Eforie Sud war 1912 als Kurort entstanden. Der Ort wurde zwischen dem Ersten und Zweiten Weltkrieg Carmen Silva genannt, nach dem Künstlernamen der Königin Elisabeth von Rumänien], einem Urlaubsort am Schwarzen Meer, gefahren. Das war wunderbar für mich, ich habe das erste Mal das Meer gesehen. Viele meiner Freundinnen haben nach dem Krieg in Bukarest gelebt, und wir haben Ausflüge zusammen gemacht, auch in die Berge, und wir haben viel gefeiert. Dort, in Bukarest, haben mein Mann und ich uns kennen gelernt. Grisha hatte zu der Zeit bereits die Handelsakademie abgeschlossen,

Der Altersunterschied zwischen meinem Mann und mir hat mich zuerst gestört. Wenn man so jung ist, hat man das Gefühl, zehn Jahre älter ist bereits alt, denn gesellschaftlich sind zehn Jahre schon ein Unterschied. 1949 haben wir dann aber in Bukarest, im Tempel Coral, geheiratet. Die ganze Familie war dabei, auch meine Eltern sind aus Galatz zur Hochzeit gekommen. Das war eine sehr schöne Hochzeit. Ich trug ein langes weißes Kleid mit einem Schleier. Mein Schwager Musa Zamir ist 93 Jahre, hat drei Töchter und lebt in Israel in einem Kibbutz. Er hat in seinem Wohnzimmer ein Hochzeitsbild von mir und meinem Mann stehen. Nach der Trauung sind wir in einem Restaurant essen gegangen, aber nicht koscher, denn koschere Restaurants gab es damals nicht.

Mein Leben in Israel

Nach relativ kurzer Zeit wurde in Rumänien mit der Verstaatlichung des Privateigentums begonnen, und der Kommunismus hat sein wahres Gesicht gezeigt. Auch das Unternehmen meines Vaters wurde von den Kommunisten verstaatlicht. Wir haben wieder alles verloren. So war das! Viele rumänische Juden, denen es irgendwie möglich war, sind vor den Kommunisten geflüchtet. Das war eine große Emigrationswelle nach Frankreich und nach Israel. Damals sind auch wir gegangen. 1950 sind wir mit dem Schiff von Constanza über das Schwarze Meer direkt nach Israel gefahren.

In Haifa gibt es drei Ebenen. Unten ist der Hafen. Als wir in Haifa ankamen, haben wir auf der zweiten Ebene, die Hadar heißt, in einem Hotel gewohnt. Die Besitzerin war eine Deutsche, die hat sich sehr überlegt, ob sie uns ein Zimmer gibt, ob wir zahlen können. Aber sie hat eben auch das Geld gebraucht. Einige unserer Sachen haben wir nach Israel mitnehmen können. Mein Mann war in Rumänien nach dem Krieg kaufmännisch tätig, er war Prokurist bei einer Schifffahrtsgesellschaft. Er hat in dieser Zeit sehr viel Geld verdient. Leider konnte er das ganze Geld nicht nach Palästina überweisen. Einen Teil des Geldes hat er deshalb einem Freund nach Wien mitgegeben. Kurze Zeit nach unserer Ankunft in Haifa haben wir ein paar Möbel, einen Teppich und ein Klavier verkauft und sind nach Wien gefahren, um bei dem Freund meines Mannes unser Geld zu holen. Da hat man uns gesagt, ein anderer Freund sei gekommen und mit dem Geld durchgegangen. Aber zum Glück hatten wir gerade genug Geld, um nach einigen Monaten ein Büro zu eröffnen, und wir haben uns eine Wohnung bei sehr netten russischen Einwanderern gekauft. Der Mann war Chauffeur bei Eged. Eged ist die Busgesellschaft in Israel. Er hatte ein Haus gebaut, und wir haben von ihm eine Wohnung gekauft. Das war uns sehr angenehm, weil wir mit ihm russisch sprechen konnten. Die russische Sprache war uns vertraut. Das Haus war oben am Carmel in der Mihalstraße, direkt am Wald. In der Nacht haben die Schakale geheult. Natur pur!

In Haifa hatten wir eine sehr schöne Gesellschaft. Nur Deutsche haben dort gewohnt, es war wirklich europäisch - die Strassen, die Gehsteige, schöne Häuser, große Villen. Und es gab im Zentrum das Cafe Haas. In dem Cafe standen Tische wie in Wien, und die Tischdecken waren rot-weiß kariert. Das werde ich nicht vergessen, das hat auf mich so einen großen Eindruck gemacht. Und man hat wirklich gelebt wie in Wien, man hat sich auf einen Kaffee getroffen.

Beruflich war es für meinen Mann in Israel nicht einfach. Zuerst  hat er in Haifa mit zwei älteren Leuten, die er geschäftlich noch aus Rumänien gekannt hat, eine Art Reisebüro mit einer Zollabfertigung für Neueinwanderer eröffnet, die mit Kisten ins Land kamen und deren Inhalt der israelische Zoll natürlich sehen wollte, um Ware zu finden, die verzollt werden musste. Das Büro ist nicht schlecht gegangen, aber dann ist der eine gestorben. Da haben sie es aufgelassen.
1952 ist mein Sohn Ariel in Haifa geboren.
1953 ist mein Bruder Leon gekommen, und danach sind auch meine Eltern gekommen. Sie haben es geschafft, alle unsere Sachen gegen Bezahlung Ausländern, die aus Rumänien ausgewiesen wurden, mitzugeben. Wir waren dann sehr froh, dass wir meine Eltern, als sie nach Israel einwanderten, gleich vom Schiff in unsere Wohnung bringen konnten. Das war eine große Sache, und wir hatten ja sogar schon einige Möbel in unserer Wohnung. Eine Zeitlang haben wir dann mit meinen Eltern zusammen gewohnt.
Als mein Bruder Leon mit seiner Frau kam, hatten sie es schwerer als wir, weil es für meinen Bruder weniger Arbeitsmöglichkeiten gab, als für meinen Mann. Sie haben eine Wohnung in einer neuen Siedlung in Ramle bekommen, und sind nach Ramle gezogen. Mein Bruder hat bei dem Bauunternehmen Solel Bone einen Posten als Ingenieur bekommen. Damals hatten sie noch keine Kinder. Auch mein Vater hat in Ramle eine Arbeitsmöglichkeit gefunden. Holländer hatten in Ramle eine Fabrik für zahnärztliche Utensilien - Bohrmaschinen, Sterilisatoren - und verschiedenes andere aufgebaut. Sie waren schon lange in Palästina und hatten mit wenig Erfolg viel investiert und wollten die Fabrik verkaufen. Mein Vater hat geglaubt, dass das eine gute Chance wäre, und dass er die Fabrik übernehmen kann. Zuerst hat er mit den Holländern zusammen gearbeitet, dann ihre Ware zusammengestellt und verkauft und die Fabrik übernommen. Er war damals 63 Jahre alt und gesundheitlich nicht sehr gut beisammen. Er hatte zu hohen Blutdruck, und damals wurde nichts dagegen unternommen. Aber da er die vielen Jahre während des Krieges nicht arbeiten durfte, war er glücklich und hat gesagt, er fühle sich wie ein junger Student. Er wollte unbedingt arbeiten. Es war aber wahrscheinlich doch zu anstrengend, denn er ist mit den Eged Bussen durchs Land zu den Ärzten gefahren, um seine Fabriksprodukte vorzustellen und zu verkaufen.

Meine Eltern hatten in einem Provisorium bei meinem Bruder in Ramle gewohnt. Mein Vater hätte auch eine kleine Wohnung bekommen können, aber er wusste anfangs nicht, ob sie dort bleiben werden, und so hat er sein Recht auf eine kleine Wohnung meinem Bruder abgetreten. Dadurch hat mein Bruder eine Zweizimmerwohnung mit Küche bekommen. Nachdem meine Eltern kein Recht mehr auf eine Wohnung hatten und ihr Geld in die Fabrik steckten, sind sie zu meinem Bruder gezogen. Sie waren natürlich nicht sehr glücklich dabei, aber die Zeiten waren hart. Ich wäre froh gewesen, wenn meine Eltern bei mir geblieben wären, sich in Haifa eine Wohnung genommen hätten und nicht gearbeitet hätten. Leben und Lachen, wie man sagt! Sie hatten ja auch kein leichtes Leben - von Russland nach Rumänien, von Rumänien nach Israel und das mit sechzig Jahren! Aber so war ihr Schicksal. Mein Vater bekam einen Herzinfarkt und ist kurz darauf gestorben. Er war erst 65 Jahre alt. Das war 1953.
Meine Mutter ist nach dem Tod meines Vaters bei meinem Bruder geblieben, denn sie hing sehr an ihm. Er hatte ihr neben seiner Wohnung eine kleine sehr spartanisch ausgestattete Wohnung gekauft. Man musste vieles selber herrichten, zum Beispiel das Badezimmer und den Gehsteig etc. Für mich war es sehr mühsam, wenn ich meine Mutter besuchen wollte.

Mein Bruder ist nach dem Tod meines Vaters von Solel Bone weggegangen und hat sich um die Fabrik gekümmert, denn das ganze Geld steckte ja in der Fabrik. Sie konnten es nicht herausnehmen, weil die Ware noch nicht verkauft war. Mein Bruder hat dann in der Fabrik gearbeitet und sie übernommen. Sie existiert noch heute. Mein Vater hatte einen jungen irakischen Juden eingestellt. Zuerst hat er ihn in die handwerkliche Schule geschickt und dann in die Fabrik genommen. Er hat lange in der Fabrik gearbeitet, hat geheiratet und zum Schluss hat er dann die Fabrik meinem Bruder abgekauft.

Meine Schwägerin ist erst vor Kurzem gestorben. Aber Leon ist schon vor ungefähr 15 Jahren gestorben. Seine zwei Kinder Zwi Lanis und Miri Lazar leben in Israel.

Mein jüngerer Bruder Moishe ist erst 1959 nach Israel gekommen. Er war auch Bauingenieur wie Leon und war in Tel Aviv bei der Gemeinde angestellt. Er hat unter anderem in Tel Aviv das Spital Ichilov mitgebaut, er war sehr tüchtig. Auch er ist schon lange tot. Er war in Europa, wollte sich mit seinem Sohn Aron treffen, der in Amerika lebt, und da hat er einen Herzinfarkt erlitten und ist gestorben.

1954 sind wir nach Tel Aviv gezogen, dann kam der Suez Krieg 14 1956. Es war sogar in Tel Aviv ein Fliegeralarm, und mein Sohn war vier Jahre damals. Er erinnert sich noch an die nächtlichen Alarme, wo wir alle in den Luftschutzkeller mussten. 

Mein Mann hat in Tel Aviv ein Reisebüro eröffnet. Tel Aviv war schon damals sehr schön. Das Meer, der Strand, und wir haben in der Nähe des Habima Theaters gewohnt, in der Rechov Ben – Zion, in einem wunderschönen Haus. Das Haus hat der Familie Rekanati gehört, die die Besitzer der Discont Bank waren. Wir hatten eine Wohnung im Parterre gemietet. Es gab die Dizengoffstraße [Anm.: bekannte Einkaufsstrasse in Tel Aviv] noch nicht, sie ist erst entstanden, aber die Ben-Jehuda und die Allenby. In der Allenby war das Mograbi Kino. Manche Leute hatten Geld und haben in die Stadt investiert, und sie hat begonnen, sich zu verändern. Wir haben viele Freunde gefunden, denn damals war eine sehr große Alijah 15 aus Rumänien. Es sind 400 000 Leute nach Israel gekommen. Eine Schulkollegin war dabei. Die anderen Schulkollegen sind später gekommen und haben sich in verschiedenen Städten Israels niedergelassen. Wir treffen uns natürlich noch heute, wir haben uns gefunden nach so vielen Jahren. Aber zuerst waren noch nicht viele da.
Es gab in Israel zu dieser Zeit wenige Leute, die Geld hatten, um zu verreisen, und der internationale Tourismus war auch noch nicht entwickelt. Aber es gab Leute, die Israel wieder verlassen wollten. Und wenn ich jetzt an diese Zeit denke, ist das kein Wunder, denn es gab wenig Arbeit und wenige Wohnungen. Manche haben bis 1956 in Zelten gewohnt.

Wien

Ich bin die einzige der Familie, die Israel verlassen hat. Die anderen sind alle dort geblieben.

Mein Mann wollte weg. Nicht nur, dass er weg wollte, er hatte auch den Mut zum nochmaligen Neuanfang. Für mich war die Zeit in Israel die schönste meines Lebens. Da habe ich mich zu Hause gefühlt, meine ganze Familie war dort, und mit den Leuten hatte ich ein starkes Zusammengehörigkeitsgefühl.

Mein Mann und ich waren 1955 in Wien zu Besuch. Wir haben im Hotel Regina, nahe der Votivkirche, gewohnt. Mein Mann hatte einen Geschäftspartner, der aus Israel nach Wien gegangen war, und wir sind gekommen, um diesen Geschäftspartner zu treffen. Israel war gerade acht Jahre alt, das Land war neu und hell, und Wien erschien mir dunkel und trist. Die Häuser waren in einem katastrophalen Zustand. Es gab viele Häuser, die nicht renoviert waren, auch am Graben waren die Häuser alle schwarz. Da war das schöne Geschäft Braun, das hatte in der Auslage ein paar Puppen, die so komisch dastanden und ein paar Handschuhe. Wien war außerdem noch zerstört. Viele Kriegsruinen waren nur eingezäunt. Es war so deprimierend! Wir haben diesen Freund besucht und uns über verschiedenes erkundigt, denn mein Mann hat schon damit spekuliert, dass wir nach Wien kommen, weil nach dem Staatsvertrag 16 die Russen weggegangen sind. Wir wollten nicht herkommen, solange die Stadt geteilt war. Wir sind dann noch in die Schweiz gefahren und haben die Sachen aus der Schweiz nach Israel geschickt. In Mailand waren wir auch, weil mein Bruder Leon einen guten Freund in Mailand hatte, dem er aus Rumänien Sachen geschickt hatte, die wir mitbringen sollten. Ich war froh, als ich wieder nach Israel zurückkam.

Als wir dann 1956 nach Wien gekommen sind, habe ich niemanden gekannt. Ich war sehr verzweifelt! Dann hat man mich zufällig der so genannten Bukowina 17 Gruppe vorgestellt, die haben aber nicht Rumänisch, sondern fast nur Deutsch gesprochen. Sie haben gesagt, sie sind aus Czernowitz, viele aber waren aus der Umgebung von Czernowitz, und die blieben unter sich. Die meisten waren ältere Damen.

Als wir in Wien ein Zimmer [im 1. Bezirk in der Reischachstrasse] zu mieten gesucht haben, da hat man lieber einer Familie mit einem Hund ein Zimmer vermietet, als einer Familie mit einem Kind. Das war wirklich schlimm. Die Wohnungen wurden mit Kohle geheizt, der Winter war grau und kalt - das war ein Alptraum gegen das weiße und warme Israel. Es war für mich auch so, dass Österreich ein deutsches Land war, und ich wusste, dass viele Österreicher für Hitler gewesen waren. Gut, ich hatte nicht hier gelebt und gelitten, aber ich habe mich immer gefragt, wie die Leute, die das hier erlebt hatten, zurückkommen konnten. Aber mein Gott, das muss jeder selber wissen. Irgendjemand hat mir dann gesagt, wenn ich jüdische Gesellschaft suche, soll ich ins Gartenbau-Cafe gehen, da treffen sich die Frauen der Wizo 18, die spielen Karten. Ich hatte in Israel durch die geschäftlichen Verbindungen meines Mannes viel ältere Gesellschaft. Diese Damen waren sehr tüchtig, sie waren sehr gute Hausfrauen. Ich war lange Zeit allein, bis meine Mutter nach Wien gekommen ist, und dann hat sie bei mir gewohnt. Das war von Israel damals noch eine Weltreise um nach Wien zu Besuch zu kommen. In Wien musste ich neue Bekanntschaften finden. Die polnischen Juden waren die größte Gruppe unter den Juden in Wien. Sie kamen 1946 aus Lagern nach Wien. 1956, gerade als wir gekommen sind, war in Ungarn Revolution, und da sind viele Ungarn, darunter auch Juden nach Wien gekommen. Die Polen hatten schon einen höheren Lebensstandard. Gewohnt haben sie aber alle noch immer in Untermietzimmern aus Koffern, weil sie bis zum Staatsvertrag 1955 nicht gewusst haben, ob die Russen bleiben und sie wieder flüchten müssen. Das war mir alles so fremd, daran hab ich mich erst gewöhnen müssen.

Ein paar Damen, ehemalige Wienerinnen, haben mir imponiert. Da war eine gewisse Frau Eigler. Ihre Eltern waren noch vor Hitler gestorben, und eine Schwester hatte nach Australien geheiratet. Sie war mit einem Rumänen verheiratet, und den Krieg haben sie zusammen in Bukarest überlebt. Nach dem Krieg ist sie mit ihrem Mann nach Wien gekommen. Für diese Zeit damals waren sie wohlhabend. Sie hatten ein herrliches Appartement in der Karlsgasse. Diese Frau Eigler war die Erste, die mich zu einem Tee in ihre Wohnung eingeladen hat, denn in Wien hat man sich doch nur im Kaffeehaus getroffen. Und man musste auch anrufen, ob man kommen darf. Auch das war für mich so fremd, weil in Israel alles offen war, und alle Leute gesagt haben: komm zu uns nach Hause; es war auch alles formloser. Herr und Frau Eigler hatten eine Wohnung mit einem Kamin, vielen Möbeln, Stuckatur an der Decke…so etwas hatte ich noch nirgendwo gesehen. Durch sie habe ich dann noch andere Wiener Juden kennen gelernt. Sie waren während des Krieges emigriert und sind nach dem Krieg nach Wien zurückgekommen. Das war eine sehr nette Gesellschaft. Von diesen Damen lebt heute leider nur noch eine.

Viele Juden waren nur mit einem Rucksack geflüchtet, junge Burschen, die keine Chance gehabt hatten, etwas zu lernen. Die haben dann oft Geschäfte mit den Russen gemacht, und so sind sie zu Geld gekommen. Deren Kinder, haben dann später studieren können. Das ist heute die zweite Generation.

In Israel war Ari zwei Jahre im Kindergarten, und er konnte schon etwas Hebräisch sprechen Als wir nach Wien gekommen sind, war er vier Jahre alt. Für ihn war der Umzug nicht so einschneidend, er war noch zu klein. Und wir sind auch alle Feiertage, besonders aber im Winter und im Frühjahr nach Israel zur Familie gefahren. Ari hat in Wien dann das Lycee, das ist die französische Schule, vom Kindergarten bis zur Matura besucht. Es war die Zeit, in der ich noch so verzweifelt war, dass ich niemanden kannte, und ich war glücklich, dass es diese Schule in Wien gab. Und langsam hatte ich ein paar jüdische Freundinnen, aber es war nicht leicht, sich zu integrieren.

Nachdem wir nach Wien gekommen waren, hat mein Mann nicht genau gewusst, welche Richtung er beruflich einschlagen soll. Eine Zeitlang hatte er einen rumänischen Kompagnon. Mit ihm zusammen hat er die Hilfe durch Care Pakete 19 aus Amerika gestartet und durchgeführt. Nachher ist das auseinander gegangen, und mein Mann hat dann versucht, wieder im Reisebüro zu arbeiten. Zu dieser Zeit sind schon viele Leute als Touristen und zu ihren Familien nach Israel gefahren. Er hat auch versucht, amerikanische Touristen nach Österreich zu holen. Er hatte dann einen Job beim Reisebüro Capri, das war am Graben, wo jetzt die Firma Schöps [mittlerweile „Nespresso“] ist. Der Inhaber war ein sehr anständiger Mensch, ein erklärter Sozialdemokrat, Svoboda hieß er. Er war nach einem Gespräch mit meinem Mann einverstanden, ihn arbeiten zu lassen. Zwar ohne Gehalt, aber mit einem Anteil an Prozenten der Kunden, die er in die Firma bringen würde. Es war nicht leicht, weil meinem Mann nicht einmal ein Schreibtisch zugeteilt wurde. Sein Büro war in einer großen Aktentasche. In der Firma arbeitete ein Prokurist, der wollte die Firma von Herrn Svoboda übernehmen, und der war eifersüchtig auf meinen Mann, weil mein Mann sehr tüchtig war. Damals brauchte man, um ein Reisebüro zu führen, eine Lizenz. Und die wurde nicht erteilt, das wurde sehr restriktiv behandelt. Am Ring war ein kleines Geschäft, und mein Mann wollte das Geschäft als Reisebüro mit einem anderen älteren Herrn betreiben. Aber der hat sich das dann überlegt, und es ist nicht zustande gekommen.

Wir haben in einer 2-Zimmer Untermietwohnung in der Taborstraße 24a gewohnt, und wollten uns eine andere Wohnung suchen. Am Stephansplatz gab es das Wohnungsvermittlungsbüro Mayerl. Mein Mann ist dort rauf gegangen und hat gesagt, wir hätten gerne eine Wohnung. Die haben uns wirklich eine Wohnung mit Zentralheizung und zwei Zimmern im vierten Bezirk, in der Pressgasse 11, im ersten Stock mit Lift, vermietet. Da waren wir überglücklich! Vor uns hat dort ein Regisseur gewohnt, Oscar Fritz Schuh, glaube ich, hat er geheißen [Anm.: Oscar Fritz Schuh, 1904-1984 war ein deutscher Dramaturg, Regisseur und Intendant]. Aber wir haben ihn nicht gekannt. Er hat die Wohnung mit Einrichtung verkauft: das Schlafzimmer, viele Stellagen und die Küche, die komplett, sogar mit Töpfen, eingerichtet war, haben wir übernommen.
Meine Tochter Desiree ist 1958 dort zur Welt gekommen. Meine Kinder hatten ein Zimmer, wir hatten ein Schlafzimmer, und das große Vorzimmer war unser Wohnzimmer. Wenn meine Mama bei uns gelebt hat, hat sie mit den Kindern im Zimmer geschlafen.

Mein Mann hat weiter sein Reisebürounternehmen am Graben geführt. Eine Tages kam ein Herr Dauber und hat zu ihm gesagt: Muzicant, ich brauch ein Geschäft am Graben. Also mein Mann, der sehr tüchtig war, hat sofort geschaltet und gesagt: Sicher, ich habe etwas für Sie. Dann ist er zur Firma Mayerl gegangen und hat gefragt, ob sie nicht ein Geschäft am Graben haben. Die Firma Mayerl hat ihm ein Geschäft angeboten, und der Herr Dauber hat es gekauft. Die Provision hat mein Mann mit den Angestellten der Firma Mayerl geteilt. Und dadurch ist er auf die Idee gekommen, selber ein Immobilien Vermittlungsbüro zu gründen. Sein erstes Büro befand sich in der Hegelgasse. Das war das Büro der tschechischen Fluglinie, und die haben ein größeres Lokal gebraucht, das ihnen mein Mann in der Wollzeile vermittelt hat. In der Hegelgasse war der Beginn der Immobilienfirma Columbus.

Ich möchte etwas über die Familie meines Mannes erzählen: Mein Mann und seine Geschwister waren während des Krieges vor den Deutschen und Rumänen bis nach Kasachstan geflüchtet, sonst hätten sie nicht überlebt. Sein Bruder Witja, der nicht verheiratet war, war Soldat in der Roten Armee und ist in Odessa umgekommen. Die anderen haben den Krieg überlebt. Nach dem Krieg war es nicht allen Geschwistern möglich, aus der UdSSR heraus zu kommen, denn Czernowitz gehörte ab 1944 zur UdSSR, und die Russen haben nach ein paar Monaten die Grenzen abgeriegelt. Mein Mann und sein Bruder Jascha haben es rechtzeitig geschafft, aber seine drei Schwestern, Raja, Polja und Frieda, sind zurück nach Czernowitz gekommen, als man nicht mehr herauskam. Jascha war Buchhalter und mit Klara verheiratet. Er ist ungefähr 1953 nach Israel emigriert. Ihr Sohn Leon lebte in Israel. Wir haben damals ein bisschen mit den Schwestern meines Mannes nach dem Krieg korrespondiert und sie gebeten, meine Tante Sima und ihre Tochter Etka aufzusuchen. Das waren die, die von den Russen an den Polarkreis deportiert worden waren. Das haben sie auch gemacht, aber meine Tante wollte nicht kommunizieren. Raja, sie war die älteste Schwester meines Mannes, und ihr Mann Nathan, der vor dem Krieg Fleischgroßhändler war, sind nach dem Krieg in Czernowitz gestorben, da waren wir schon in Wien. Nathan hatte in der Roten Armee 20 gekämpft und Raja war 1942 nach Transnistrien deportiert worden. Beide haben sich nach dem Krieg in Czernowitz wieder getroffen, da konnten sie aber nicht mehr heraus. Nathan ist an einer Magenoperation gestorben und Raja ist während einer Operation aus der Narkose nicht mehr aufgewacht. Als sie gestorben sind, ist ihr Sohn David allein zurück geblieben. Den David haben mein Mann und ich 1962 zu uns geholt. Die Polja, die geschieden war, und ihren Sohn haben wir auch rausgeholt. Zuerst waren sie in Wien, dann sind sie nach Israel gegangen. Polja ist in Israel gestorben, auch ihr Sohn ist leider erkrankt und in Israel nach langem Leiden verstorben. 

Frieda war die jüngste Schwester meines Mannes. Sie war sehr hübsch. Sie ist zusammen mit meinem Mann vor den Deutschen aus Czernowitz nach Russland geflüchtet. Jeder, der konnte, ist geflüchtet. Meinen Mann hat das russische Militär geholt. Frieda blieb ganz allein. Sie hat den Krieg in Samarkand überlebt und einen Usbeken geheiratet, der dort Chef der kommunistischen Partei war. Er hieß Radjabow, seinen Vornamen weiß ich nicht. Er hatte ihr den Hof gemacht, und sie hatte es sehr gut bei ihm. Da hat sie beschlossen, ihn zu heiraten. Sie haben drei Kinder bekommen: Larissa, Alexander und Swetlana. Larissa wurde Ärztin und hat in Leningrad gelebt. Die anderen zwei haben mit den Eltern in Samarkand gelebt. Der Mann von Frieda ist in Samarkand gestorben.

Ich habe Frieda, Larissa und ihre Tochter aus der Sowjetunion herausgeholt. Das war zu Kreisky-Zeiten, da gab es eine Auswanderungswelle russischer Juden aus der Sowjetunion. Mein Mann ist 1977 gestorben, ich war damals schon allein. Ein ehemaliger Nachbar meiner Schwägerin, ein Jude, lebte in Berlin und hat mich kontaktiert. Und ich habe im Andenken an meinen Mann, der seine Familie geliebt hat, geholfen, sie herauszuholen. Sie sind dann nach Wien eingereist und weiter nach Berlin gefahren. Die jüdische Gemeinde in Berlin hat sie aufgenommen und ihnen geholfen, und sie konnten sich ein Leben in Berlin aufbauen. In den 1980er Jahren gab es wieder eine Auswanderungswelle russischer Juden aus der Sowjetunion, da haben sie den Rest der Familie aus Samarkand nach Berlin geholt. Frieda ist aber nicht in Berlin geblieben. Nach einigen Jahren ist sie nach Israel ausgewandert und vor ungefähr drei Jahren gestorben. 

Den David, den Sohn von Raja und Nathan, haben wir bei uns aufgenommen. Da hat uns die Wiener jüdische kommunistische Ärztin Dr. Tannenbaum geholfen. Sie hatte in der Roten Armee gekämpft, und sie war unsere Hausärztin - ein fantastischer Mensch! Wir waren zu dieser Zeit noch nicht einmal österreichische Staatsbürger und haben mit ihr darüber gesprochen, was wir tun können, wie wir helfen können. Sie hatte Beziehungen zur russischen Botschaft, und sie hat alles eingefädelt. Nachdem Davids Eltern gestorben waren, hatte sich seine Tante Frieda, die Schwester seines Vaters, um ihn gekümmert. Sie war nicht verheiratet und hatte keine Kinder. Ich habe gedacht, dass es dem Kind nicht gut geht in Czernowitz, denn ich kannte ja die Russen. Aus diesem Grund hat ihn seine Tante wohl auch zu uns gegeben, damit er eine bessere Zukunft hat. Leicht ist es ihr sicher nicht gefallen. Später ist sie dann nach Israel ausgewandert, und der David hat sie dort noch besucht.

Mein Mann und ich haben dann in Wien die österreichische Staatsbürgerschaft bekommen. Der David war in der Schule in Czernowitz unter sehr großen Druck gesetzt worden:’ Wohin fährst du, zu den Kapitalisten’, - lauter solche Sachen haben sie zu ihm gesagt. Das war 1961, er war dreizehn Jahre alt.

Als er gekommen ist, war es Sommer, und wir waren wie immer in Reichenau an der Rax. Wir sind mit dem Zug bis zur Grenze gefahren und dann von Waggon zu Waggon gegangen, um ihn zu finden. Wir haben ihn ja nicht gekannt. Dann haben wir ihn gefunden. Er trug einen grauen Trainingsanzug, und seine Haare waren ganz geschoren. Er sah aus wie ein Sträfling. Das war ein Eindruck - nicht zu beschreiben! Wir sind dann mit ihm nach Reichenau gefahren. In Reichenau haben wir den Direktor der Volksschule engagiert, der hat mit ihm täglich Deutsch gelernt, und David hat begonnen, Deutsch zu sprechen.

In Wien hatten wir inzwischen eine Dreizimmerwohnung in der Kettenbrückengasse. Oft war auch meine Mutter aus Israel bei uns über mehrere Jahre zu Besuch. Aber sie wollte immer wieder zurück nach Israel. Israel war ihre Heimat geworden. Die Wohnung war etwas klein für so viele Leute, aber damit hatte ich kein Problem. Es war eine sehr schöne Zeit. Im Wohnzimmer war eine Eckbank. Da haben wir gesessen, und mein Mann und ich haben da geschlafen. Ari und Desi haben ein Zimmer gehabt, in dem auch meine Mutter geschlafen hat, und der David hat ein Zimmer gehabt. Mein Sohn Ari, der vier Jahre jünger ist, hat den David immer als seinen großen Bruder vorgestellt. Meine Tochter Desi war klein, sie war fast noch ein Baby, ungefähr zwei Jahre alt. Für sie war es dann selbstverständlich, dass er da war. Ich werde nie vergessen, dass mein Sohn, ohne dass ich es ihm gesagt habe, den David so gut aufgenommen hat. Das war sehr berührend! Beide Kinder waren überhaupt nicht eifersüchtig.

Jetzt standen wir wegen der Schule vor einem Problem. David hatte ja erst begonnen Deutsch zu lernen. Mein Mann und ich haben Russisch gesprochen, die Kinder nicht. Wir haben ihn dann im Theresianum untergebracht. Das war die einzige Schule mit einem Internat, in dem auch Russisch als Fach unterrichtet wurde. Ich habe gesagt, wenn er zu Hause bleibt, wird er nur russisch sprechen, und so konnte er sich schneller integrieren. Das Theresianum war nicht weit von unserer Wohnung entfernt, und jedes Wochenende kam er nach Hause. Dort war damals ein phänomenaler Mensch Direktor. Mein Mann hat ihm den Fall geschildert. ‚Wie machen wir das’, hat der Direktor meinen Mann gefragt. Da hat ihm mein Mann gesagt: ‚Schauen Sie, wir haben einen großen Sack Kohle und müssen ihn in den fünften Stock bringen. Das können wir nur mit einem Kübel rauf bringen, das heißt langsam, langsam, und schauen wir uns das an.’
So hat mein Mann das gesagt, und das hat sehr auf ihn gewirkt, und sie haben ihn aufgenommen. Wir haben ihm Nachhilfelehrer genommen für jedes Fach, Deutsch bis zur Matura. Er hat auch Latein lernen müssen. Ich hab gewusst, was er gern isst, und ich bin immer ins Internat gegangen und habe ihm Esspakete gebracht, die er natürlich mit allen Kindern dort geteilt hat. Allerdings war das Theresianum damals noch antisemitisch, und er hat Deutsch mit einem jiddischen Akzent gesprochen. Ich nehme an, der jiddische Akzent kam daher, dass seine Verwandten in Russland vielleicht Jiddisch gesprochen haben. Aber im Theresianum wurde auch Russisch unterrichtet, und das war gut für ihn. Das war für ihn wenigstens ein bisschen was von zu Hause. Er war ein Phänomen in der Schule, und manche Lehrer waren sehr nett. Die Kinder haben ihn, das war die Chrustschow 21 Zeit, Chrustschow genannt. Sicher hatte er es nicht leicht. Wir waren fremd für ihn, und die Gesellschaft war ihm fremd. Wir haben uns wirklich bemüht, ihm soviel Wärme wie möglich und ein zu Hause zu geben.

David hat maturiert ohne ein Jahr zu verlieren. Das war eine großartige Leistung! Jedes Wochenende ist er nach Hause gekommen. Die Urlaube haben wir natürlich zusammen verbracht. Ich freue mich, dass alles gelungen ist. Mein Mann wollte ihn nach der Matura nach Israel schicken, aber ich habe mich widersetzt. Dort wäre er verloren gewesen. Er hätte wieder von vorn beginnen müssen, wieder in einer ganz fremden Gesellschaft. Und die Familie meines Mannes, die in Israel gelebt hat, hätte sich seiner nicht annehmen können, weil sie eigene Sorgen hatten. Das Leben in Israel war und ist nicht so leicht. Ich denke, er wäre wirklich untergegangen. Aber dann hat er Medizin inskribiert und ist ein „Hippie“ geworden. Er ist von zu Hause ausgezogen, wir haben ein paar Jahre nichts von ihm gewusst. Das war sehr schwer. Ich weiß bis heute nicht, wo er gesteckt hat. Es wird Zeit, dass er mir das jetzt mal erzählt - wo er war und was er alles gemacht hat. Wir wollten, er soll studieren und sich ein bisschen Geld verdienen. Er hätte Kinder von Bekannten unterrichten können, die in der Schule Schwierigkeiten hatten. Aber das war ihm zu bürgerlich. Mein Mann hat ihm und unseren Kindern eine Wohnung gekauft, die sollten sie vermieten, damit sie während des Studiums etwas Geld haben. Aber es war nichts zu machen. Er wollte das nicht. Er wollte sein Leben führen, da konnte man nichts machen. Aber er ist dann zurückgekommen, Gott sei Dank! Nun ist er verheiratet und hat zwei sehr gelungene Kinder. Sein Sohn Benjamin studiert, er ist nächstes Jahr fertiger Arzt. Er ist sehr tüchtig, sehr begabt. Ich bin so glücklich darüber. Und sein Sohn Daniel studiert Jus und engagiert sich in der Politik. Dodo, ich nenne den David immer Dodo, hat seine Medizinausbildung in Linz gemacht. Ich denke mir, aber ich weiß es nicht, dass er dort viele antisemitische Erfahrungen gesammelt hat. Aber ich habe es nie aus ihm herausgeholt, ich bin keine Bohrerin. Während des Studiums in Linz hat er seine Frau kennen gelernt. Sie ist Lehrerin. Ich schätze sie sehr, weil die Kinder enorm profitiert haben und sehr an den Eltern hängen. Der Dodo ist eine Enzyklopädie. Er ist unheimlich gebildet! Es gibt kein Buch, das erschienen ist, von dem er nichts weiß. Und er weiß sehr viel über das Judentum. Das hat er auch seinen Söhnen mitgegeben. Aber religiös ist er nicht. Seine Frau ist keine Jüdin, aber die Söhne haben beschlossen, mehr über das Judentum heraus zu finden.
Der Dodo hat sehr lange auf der Baumgartner Höhe als Oberarzt auf der Psychiatrie gearbeitet. Dann hat er an einem Projekt mit einem Kollegen, einem Freund, der auch Arzt ist, gearbeitet. Sie haben das Projekt ESRA 22 erfunden und es meinem Sohn Ari und der IKG [Anm.: Israelitische Kultusgemeinde] vorgestellt, und mein Sohn hat das dann gemeinsam mit seinen Kollegen in der Kultusgemeinde umgesetzt.
Seit dieser Zeit ist David Primar der Ambulanz von ESRA, und nicht nur das, er ist Trauma - Spezialist. Er ist sehr begehrt, er reist herum und hält Vorträge.

Jetzt, nach vierzig Jahren war er das erste Mal wieder in Czernowitz, vorher konnte er nicht hinfahren, so emotional war das für ihn.

Mein Sohn hat nach der Matura Medizin studiert. Er hat schon als Turnusarzt gearbeitet.
Er wollte Röntgenologe werden, und er hatte schon eine Ausbildungsstelle, da ist
mein Mann gestorben. Mein Mann hatte einen Herzinfarkt. Das war im Sommer nach dem Urlaub. Wir sind nach Hause gekommen, und ihm war schlecht. Aber man hat den Herzinfarkt damals nicht sofort erkannt. Das war vor dreißig Jahren, da war eine Angiographie 23 ein Problem. Außerdem war ein schrecklicher Sturm und Hagel, und kein Arzt wollte kommen. Dann habe ich einen Notfallarzt gerufen, der gekommen ist und der den Herzinfarkt aber nicht diagnostiziert hat. Erst in der Früh hat man ihn dann ins AKH eingeliefert. Mein Mann hat dann noch sechs Monate gelebt. Im Jänner 1977 ist er gestorben. Das war schrecklich! Der Infarkt hatte einen großen Schaden hinterlassen. Das war schlimm, und es ist furchtbar, weil das heute wahrscheinlich nicht seinen Tod bedeutet hätte. Er war nicht krank - es gab keinen Grund. Und er hat immer so bewusst gelebt und sich immer kontrolliert, weil seine Familie ihm so wichtig war. Ich habe ja nicht gearbeitet, und er hat für uns gesorgt. Mein Mann hat viel gearbeitet, und er war immer besorgt um uns alle, er war wirklich ein guter Familienvater und zweifelsohne ein guter Mann und Schwiegersohn und ein guter Mensch. Und er war gut zu seiner Familie, die seit Beginn des Krieges verstreut war, und viele von ihnen hatten keine Kindheit, und das Leben in Israel war schwer.

Nach dem Tod meines Mannes hat sich mein Sohn überlegt, die Firma zu übernehmen. Die Firma ist gut gegangen, und mein Sohn hat sich dann Karenzurlaub vom Spital genommen und sich alles genau angeschaut. Viele Anwälte mit denen mein Mann gearbeitet hatte, haben sich dann gewundert, dass so ein junger Mann mit 25 Jahren sich traut, diese Firma zu übernehmen. Dieser Beruf hat sehr viel mit der Person zu tun, besonders damals war das so. Es ist nicht nur eine Ware, die man zum Verkauf anbietet, der Käufer muss großes Vertrauen in den Verkäufer setzen. Aber der Ari hat es versucht, und es ist ihm gelungen.

Mein Sohn war ein ehrgeiziger Student und politisch immer sehr engagiert. Er hat zum Beispiel den ersten jüdischen Kindergarten initiiert. Es gab schon Kinder der Nachfolgegeneration, die geheiratet haben und selber Kinder bekommen haben. Ari und seine spätere Frau Judith gingen ins Lycée Français, aber viele ihrer Freunde gingen in österreichische Schulen. Es hat ihnen die Möglichkeit gefehlt, ihre Kinder jüdisch zu erziehen, es gab keine Einrichtungen damals. Sie wollten ihre Kinder aber jüdisch erziehen. Und da haben sich damals junge Juden zusammengesetzt, Spender gesucht und gefunden und den ersten jüdischen Kindergarten in Wien nach dem Krieg, in der Grünentorgasse war der, glaube ich, gegründet. Das war gar nicht so einfach, denn sie mussten die Kinder auch durch Sicherheitskräfte schützen. Und als die Kinder dann heran gewachsen sind, musste eine jüdische Schule gegründet werden. Auch das ist gelungen. Das Gebäude in der Castellezgasse war vor dem Krieg die Volksschule der Kultusgemeinde. Alle seine Freunde haben mitgearbeitet, damit die Schule wieder entsteht. Sie haben Komitees gegründet, viele Stunden gearbeitet, bis 1980 die jüdische Schule wiedereröffnet wurde. Und als 1992 die ersten Kinder die Matura absolviert haben, wurden von überall auf der Welt die Überlebenden des letzten Maturajahrgangs vor dem Krieg, das war 1938, eingeladen. Diese Feier 1992 war sehr ergreifend.

Meine Tochter Desi ist Zahnärztin geworden. Sie hatte in Wien viele Jahre eine Ordination. Die hat sie verkauft und ist für sechs Jahre nach Paris gegangen. Vor ungefähr zwei Jahren ist sie nach Wien zurückgekommen und hat wieder eine Ordination im 9. Bezirk eröffnet.

Mein zweiter Mann hieß Marcel Orenstein. Es war Zufall, dass wir uns wieder getroffen haben. Ich kannte ihn bereits in meiner Jugend, denn wir waren Jugendfreunde. Er gehörte zu der Gruppe Jugendlicher, zu der ich auch gehörte. Ich war schon damals verliebt in ihn. Aber in meiner Jugendzeit waren die Beziehungen zwischen den jungen Leuten anders als heute. Da war man noch so ein bisschen mehr auf Abstand. Er ist mit seiner Familie vor mir nach Bukarest gezogen, da war ich noch in Galatz. Und dann habe ich in Bukarest meinen Mann kennen gelernt und geheiratet, und wir sind nach Israel emigriert. Marcel hat fünfzig Jahre in Rumänien gelebt. Er war Textilingenieur in Bukarest. Seine Eltern sind dort geblieben und gestorben. Er hat geheiratet, hat sich aber scheiden lassen und seinen Sohn zu sich genommen. Seine Mutter hat den Buben praktisch aufgezogen. Mein Mann war ja die Generation meiner Brüder, und die hatten Freunde. Und einer von denen war ein sehr, sehr, guter Mensch. Er war wirklich wie unser Bruder, denn er ist als Christ unter Juden aufgewachsen. Er hieß Cornelius Stefanescu, war Anwalt und mit einem Cousin von ihm bin ich noch in Verbindung gestanden. Dieser Cousin lebt seit langer Zeit in Schweden. Cornelius Stefanescu hat erfahren, dass ich verwitwet bin. Seine Tochter wiederum war nach Amerika ausgewandert. Er wollte zu ihr nach Amerika, hatte ein Ausreisevisum aus Rumänien bekommen, musste aber in Rom noch auf seine Papiere warten. Da habe ich gesagt, dass ich nach Rom komme, um ihn zu sehen. Wir waren zwei Wochen in Rom und haben viel über die Vergangenheit gesprochen. Und er hat mich gefragt, ob ich mich nicht vielleicht einmal mit dem Marcel treffen möchte. Und ich habe gesagt, dass ich es nicht weiß. Wir hatten uns ja die ganzen Jahre nicht gesehen und auch nichts voneinander gehört, denn mein Mann war sehr eifersüchtig auf diese Bekanntschaft. Wir hatten uns ja nicht getrennt, sondern das Leben hatte uns auseinander gerissen. Cornelius ist nach Amerika gefahren, hat sich dort aber nicht einleben können und ist wieder nach Bukarest gegangen. Dort hat er den Marcel getroffen und hat unser erstes Treffen eingefädelt. .Das war eben Schicksal.

Als wir uns das erste Mal getroffen haben, war das sehr ergreifend. Er war mir trotz der vielen Jahre, die vergangen waren, relativ vertraut. Einen ganz Fremden hätte ich nicht kennen lernen wollen und können. Ich war so eingeschüchtert. Aber nachdem wir doch die Kindheit miteinander verbracht hatten, gab es viel, was uns verbunden hat. Auch die Kriegsjahre und vor allem habe ich seine Familie gekannt, wir hatten denselben Background, und das war schon besonders verbindend. Wenn daraus ein Film gemacht werden würde, würde man sagen, das sei Kitsch. Als mein Mann gestorben ist, war ich 50 Jahre alt, und 53 Jahre war ich alt, als mein zweiter Mann nach Wien gekommen ist. Wir waren also noch jung. Marcel war ein Jahr älter als ich. Als er kam, war mein Sohn Ari schon verheiratet, und meine Tochter Daisy war achtzehn Jahre alt. Wir haben gut zusammengelebt. Vor vier Jahren ist Marcel gestorben.

In Rumänien haben wir niemanden mehr. Ich war schon ein paar Mal dort, auch mit meinem zweiten Mann. Nur einige christliche Freundinnen, mit denen ich in der Schule war, die sind noch dort, die habe ich besucht, und es war ganz nett. Es hat sich vieles dort sehr verändert, denn im Krieg war viel zerstört und wurde dann neu aufgebaut. Unsere Häuser stehen noch, aber es wohnen Fremde in diesen Häusern, und viele Bekannte trifft man nur auf dem Friedhof.

Glossar

1 Krim

Halbinsel im nördlichen Schwarzen Meer

2 Theresianum

von Maria Theresia 1746 zur Heranbildung von Staatsbeamten gegründete Ritterakademie; von Jesuiten, nach Aufhebung dieses Ordens, von Piaristen und weltlichen Lehrern betreut; 1778 mit der Savoyischen Ritterakademie vereinigt, 1783 durch Joseph II. aufgehoben, 1791 als Theresianisch-Leopoldinische Akademie wieder eröffnet, seit 1849 auch Nichtadeligen zugänglich. Ab 1918 nur noch Führung eines Gymnasiums, ab 1925 Realgymnasium der Stiftung ‚Theresianische Akademie’, 1938 Umwandlung in eine nationalpolitische Erziehungsanstalt, 1945 aufgelöst, 1957 als öffentliches Gymnasium (mit Internat) wieder eröffnet.

3 Scholem Alejchem, [hebr

Friede mit euch], geboren 1859 als Shalom Yakov Rabinowitsch in der Nähe von Kiew, war ein jiddischsprachiger Schriftsteller. Er starb 1916 in New York.

4 Bialik, Chaim Nachman [1873-1934]

jüdischer Dichter, Autor und Journalist, der auf Hebräisch schrieb; einer der einflussreichsten hebräischen Dichter; gilt in Israel als Nationaldichter.

5 Schabbat [hebr

: Ruhepause]: der siebente Wochentag, der von Gott geheiligt ist, erinnert an das Ruhen Gottes am siebenten Tag der Schöpfungswoche. Am Schabbat ist jegliche Arbeit verboten. Er soll dem Gottesfürchtigen dazu dienen, Zeit mit Gott zu verbringen.
Der Schabbat beginnt am Freitagabend und endet am Samstagabend.

6 [Die] Hohen Feiertage

Rosch Haschana [Neujahrsfest] und Jom Kippur [Versöhnungstag]

7 Pessach

Feiertag am 1. Frühlingsvollmond, zur Erinnerung an die Befreiung aus der ägyptischen Sklaverei, auch als Fest der ungesäuerten Brote [Mazza] bezeichnet.

8 Seder [hebr

: Ordnung]: wird als Kurzbezeichnung für den Sederabend verwendet. Der Sederabend ist der Auftakt des Pessach-Festes. An ihm wird im Kreis der Familie (oder der Gemeinde) des Auszugs aus Ägypten gedacht.

9 Chanukka [hebr

: Weihe]: Das achttägige Chanukkafest erinnert an die Wiedereinweihung des Tempels in Jerusalem im Jahr 164 v. Chr. nach dem erfolgreichen Makkabäeraufstand gegen hellenisierte Juden und mazedonische Syrer. Die Makkabäer siegten und führten den jüdischen Tempeldienst wieder ein. Laut der Überlieferung fand sich Öl für nur einen Tag; durch ein Wunder hat das Licht jedoch acht Tage gebrannt, bis neues geweihtes Öl hergestellt worden war.

10 Transnistrien

Östlich des Dnestr gelegene Teil Moldawiens. Transnistrien wird hauptsächlich von Russen und Ukrainern bewohnt. Von 1941 bis 1944 wurde das Gebiet als Transnistria bezeichnet und an Rumänien, das sich am Krieg gegen die Sowjetunion beteiligte, angeschlossen. Viele rumänische Juden wurden nach Transnistria deportiert und dort ihrem Schicksal überlassen. Die Überlebenden kehrten 1945 nach Rumänien zurück.

11 Ion Antonescu [1882 bis 1946] war Generalstabschef des Heeres und diktatorisch regierender Ministerpräsident

Er regierte ab 1940 zuerst mit Hilfe der faschistischen Eisernen Garde, später als Militätdiktator und hielt sich an die faschistischen Achsenmächte. Unter Antonescus Herrschaft wurden Hunderttausende von rumänischen und ukrainischen Juden nach Transnistrien deportiert. Die im Oktober 2003 gegründete Internationale Kommission zur Erforschung des Rumänischen Holocaust, hat ihren Abschlussbericht Ende 2004 vorgelegt. Darin wird von mehr als 300 000 umgekommenen Juden und über 20 000 ermordeten Roma berichtet. Antonescu wurde im August 1944 gestürzt, der Sowjetunion ausgeliefert und am 1. Juni 1946 von einem rumänischen Volksgerichtshof zum Tode verurteilt und hingerichtet.

12 Jom Kippur

der jüdische Versöhnungstag, der wichtigste Festtag im Judentum.
Im Mittelpunkt stehen Reue und Versöhnung. Essen, Trinken, Baden, Körperpflege, das Tragen von Leder und sexuelle Beziehungen sind an diesem Tag verboten.

13 Purim

Freudenfest, das an die Errettung des jüdischen Volkes aus drohender Gefahr in der persischen Diaspora erinnert. Nach der Überlieferung versuchte Haman, der höchste Regierungsbeamte des persischen Königs, die gesamten Juden im Perserreich auszurotten. Der [jüdischen] Königin Ester gelang es jedoch, den König von den unlauteren Absichten Hamans zu überzeugen und so die Juden zu retten.

14 Suezkrieg, die Suezkrise [auch

Sinai-Krieg und Sinai-Feldzug] im Jahr 1956 war eine in einen bewaffneten Konflikt mündende Krise zwischen Ägypten auf der einen und einer Allianz aus Großbritannien, Frankreich und Israel auf der anderen Seite. Hauptstreitpunkt war die Kontrolle über den strategisch bedeutsamen Suezkanal.

15 Alija [hebr

Aufstieg]: Bezeichnung für die Einwanderung nach Israel, bzw. Palästina.

16   Staatsvertrag

Der Staatsvertrag betreffend die Wiederherstellung eines unabhängigen und demokratischen Österreich wurde am 15. Mai 1955 in Wien zwischen den Alliierten Besatzungsmächten USA, UdSSR, Frankreich und Großbritannien und der österreichischen Regierung unterzeichnet. Österreich kündigte an, nach Abschluss des Staatsvertrags aus freien Stücken die immerwährende Neutralität zu erklären, die somit zwar nicht im Staatsvertrag, jedoch mit diesem in engem Zusammenhang steht.

17 Bukowina, Die - historische Landschaft in Südosteuropa

Die nördliche Hälfte gehört zur Ukraine und ist Teil der Oblast Czernowitz. Die südliche Hälfte gehört zu Rumänien und ist Teil der Bezirke Suceava und Botosani. Die Bukowina, so wie das östlich davon liegende Bessarabien, ist ein Teil der historischen Region Moldau. Nordwestlich davon liegt Galizien, im Südwesten grenzt es an Siebenbürgen.

18 Wizo

Akronym für Womens International Zionist Organisation. International tätige zionistische Frauenorganisation

19 CARE [Cooperative for American Remittances to Europe]

Nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg von 22 US-amerikanischen Wohlfahrtsverbänden gegründete private Hilfsorganisation zur Koordinierung von Hilfsaktionen für Europa. Zwischen 1946 und 1960 erreichten fast zehn Millionen CARE-Pakete mit Lebensmitteln, Kleidung oder Werkzeugen Deutschland und andere europäische Staaten.

20 Rote Armee

die Rote Arbeiter- und Bauernarmee, kurz Rote Armee, war die Armee der Sowjetunion. Meist bezeichnet der Begriff die Streitkräfte Sowjetrusslands oder der Sowjetunion zwischen 1918 und 1946. Sie wurde unter der maßgeblichen Beteiligung Leo Trotzkis mit Hilfe von Militärspezialisten der zaristischen Armee in der Revolutionszeit aufgebaut.

21 Chruschtschow, Nikita Sergejewitsch [1894 – 1971]

Ab September 1953 Erster Sekretär des Zentralkomitees der KPdSU. Auf dem XX. Parteitag der KPdSU nimmt Chruschtschow den selbst vorangetriebenen Personenkult um Stalin und die von Stalin begangenen Verbrechen zum Anlass, eine grundlegende Wende in Politik und Wirtschaft zu vollziehen. 1958 wird er Regierungschef und vereint damit wieder das höchste Staats- und Parteiamt in einer Person. 1964 wird er seinen Ämtern enthoben.

22 ESRA

1994 gegründet, bemüht sich das psychosoziale Zentrum ESRA um die medizinische, therapeutische und sozialarbeiterische Versorgung von Opfern der Shoah und deren Angehörigen sowie um die Beratung und Betreuung von in Wien lebenden Juden; weiters bietet ESRA Integrationshilfen für jüdische Zuwanderer

23 Angiographie

Bei der herkömmlichen Angiographie wird in ein bestimmtes Gefäß ein jodhaltiges Kontrastmittel injiziert, das sich anschließend im Blut in Flußrichtung verteilt. So erhält man von einem gewählten Blickwinkel aus ein Einzelbild des Gefäßinnenraumes.

Leo Luster

Name of interviewer: Tanja Eckstein

August 2010

The first time I encountered Leo Luster in Vienna was in Café Schottenring. Once a month the former Hakoah players meet there. Leo and his son, Moshe, were in Vienna for a film project on Aron Menczer. Aron Menczer was a young man who had made life bearable during an unbearable time for many Jewish children in Vienna and in the Theresienstadt ghetto, and saved many of their lives. In 1943 he was deported with 1,260 children from Theresienstadt to Auschwitz and murdered. He was 26 years old at the time. There is a memorial plaque commemorating him in front of Marc-Aurel-Strasse 5.

Leo Luster gave me his business card in Café Schottenring and invited me to visit the Austrian seniors’ club in Tel Aviv. Years later I flew to Tel Aviv to conduct three interviews. Leo Luster was immediately ready and willing to give me an interview. I visited him in his apartment, and so began a wonderful friendship.

My Family History

My mother’s family lived in Galicia, in the city of Brzesko [Poland]. Grandfather was called Berisch Teichthal and grandmother was called Feigel Cerl Dorflaufer. My grandmother was born in 1854 in Brzesko. My grandparents were married in 1876 in Brzesko. They married Jewish, so the daughters received the mother’s name and sons the father’s name. They had twelve children, eight of whom survived. I know three of them: my mother, Golda, who was born on January 18, 1892, her brother, Josef Benjamin, born on July 5, 1896, and Hinda Rifka, born on January 6, 1899 in Brzesko. Jacques immigrated to America; I could only visit him at the cemetery in New York. I have never seen my mother’s other brothers and sisters. They stayed in Poland during the war and were murdered there. I know some of their names. They were called: Israel, Neche, Marjem, Leser Lipe, Abraham, and Jakob. Jakob was then Jacques in America, I suppose.

What I can say about my grandparents is only from hearsay – what my mother told me: My grandparents had a very happy marriage. My grandfather was a traveler who traded in soap. He bought soap in Germany and brought it to Poland with a horse and cart. When I was traveling around Germany I found out that my grandfather, who was very religious, always went to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, supposedly. Rothenburg ob der Tauber is an interesting city. The great Rabbi of Rothenburg lived there. He had a large yeshiva there and was very well known. And apparently my grandfather went to him because he was often away from home with his horse and his cart for a half a year. Then when he came back, what did he bring? Soap! There was a soap factory in Rothenburg where he bought the soap, brought it to Poland, and then sold it. One of his brothers always accompanied him on this route. He probably had more brothers, I don’t know, in any case he didn’t travel alone and they always went to this rabbi. I learned that after the war. Things weren’t bad for my grandparents; grandfather made a good living, more or less, with the soap.

I was told that my grandmother was a small woman who wore a sheitel. They admired her because she was very clever. Unfortunately she was diabetic. Even in those days the diabetics were sent to Karlsbad [Karlovy Vary, today Czech Republic]; the healing waters there also helped the diabetics. In any case grandmother always went to Karlsbad, to the health resort, in summer, and so I gather that grandfather could afford it. My Uncle Benjamin bought grandmother insulin for the diabetes in Vienna, but it was already too late for her, it didn’t help. She died in 1924 and was buried in the Central Cemetery.

My grandfather died before the First World War. That’s why at the end of 1914, before the start of the First World War, my grandmother fled to Vienna alone with her three youngest children: my mother Golda, her brother Benjamin, and her sister Rifka, who was only 15. It was easy back then since there weren’t any borders. Vienna was the capital of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy. And because the war was taking place in her region, my grandmother felt much safer with her children in Vienna. My mother’s older brother, Jacques, immigrated to America at this time, or maybe even earlier.

At first my grandmother lived with her children on Tandelmakt-Gasse 19 [2nd district]. In Vienna my Aunt Rifka married Naftali Herz Lauer from Brody [today Ukraine]. Their son Alexander was born in Vienna in 1926.

My grandmother had a sister called Rojzie Dorflaufer. She was born in 1865 in Brzesko and married Naftali Benjamin Goldberg. She died in 1938 in Vienna. Her husband was deported to Theresienstadt in 1942. The daughter, Gittel Rifka Goldberg, who was born in 1886 in Brzesko, married David Teichthal in 1909. Both of them were murdered in Auschwitz. Their daughter, Sarah, died in 1986 in New York; she was able to flee.

My Uncle Benjamin was a clever fellow; the whole family was fond of him. He was athletic and politically active as a socialist and Zionist. He was a successful fur trader in Vienna. In 1925 he married Bertha Ladenheim, a very nice woman. Her father, Elias Elukim Ladenheim, was also a fur trader and had a large shop in the 20th district on Heinzelmann-Gasse. Their daughter, Renee, was born in Vienna in 1926. Uncle Benjamin had a magnificent four-room apartment – it was a whole floor – in the 9th district at Glaser-Gasse 3 at the corner of Porzellan-Gasse. They also had a maid. I visited them often. I really liked it at my uncle’s. My mother also loved her brother. He helped everyone and gave everyone something.

When Hitler invaded Austria, Uncle Benjamin became afraid. He locked up the apartment, left everything there, and ran away with his family.  The maid had a boyfriend, an SS-Mann, who took everything. Uncle Benjamin had an accounts department in Innsbruck and the accountant smuggled them over the border into Italy. They were in Italy for about a year and then fled onwards to France and lived in Paris. It seems Uncle Benjamin had money abroad and so was able to stay afloat during this time. From France they fled to the USA. The brother, Jacques, who emigrated from Poland to America, sent them an affidavit. That’s how Uncle Benjamin could travel to America with his family and live there. Uncle Benjamin died of cancer in 1943 in the USA. Later Aunt Bertha married a Mr. Podhorzer. Their daughter Renee still lives in the USA.

My father’s parents were called Leiser Isak Luster, born in 1849, and Ite Jütel, born Seitelbach, in 1855. Both of them were born in Jarosław [Galicia, today Poland] and lived there. I don’t know when they relocated to Vienna. Grandfather was a peddler and died in Vienna in 1899, in the Karl Josef Hospital. Grandmother Jütel died in Vienna in 1923 in the 20th district at Hannover-Gasse 7 where she lived. She had seven children:

Sara Luster was born in 1875 in Jarosław. In 1901 she married Hersch Wolf Rosenbaum from Russia. Sara and her husband had two children: Alois Rosenbaum who was born in Vienna in 1903, and Dora, married name Sturm. Sara’s husband died in Vienna on May 23, 1939 in the 13th district, in the Lainz almshouse. She was 69 years old.

The second child was Abraham Isak Luster. He died as a one-year-old in 1877 in Jarosław.

Michael Luster was born in Jarosław in 1879 and died at the age of two.

Simon Leib Luster was born in Jarosław in 1881. He lived with his wife Fanny, born Rubin, in Mannheim where he also died. Fanny was deported to the Auschwitz concentration camp and murdered. Their son, also called Leo, was supposedly able to flee. I never heard from him again.

Schulem Luster was born in 1883 in Jarosław and died in Vienna in 1913 at Hannover-Gasse 7.

My father, Moses Luster, was born on March 15, 1891 in Jarosław. He had another brother that lived in Jarosław with his wife, a daughter, and a son. I don’t know what happened with them. I don’t know if they were killed by the Germans or Russians. I never heard anything about them again.

My parents met through a shadchen [matchmaker]. That was a schidach [an arranged marriage], as you say in Yiddish. They were married in Vienna in 1920 in the Polish temple at Leopold-Gasse 29. I still have my parents' marriage picture.

My Childhood

We lived at Schrey-Gasse 12 in the 2nd district. Schrey-Gasse is a side street from Untere Augarten-Strasse. Approximately 70 percent of the people in our building were Jewish. The building belonged to a Jew, a Mr. Toch. I think Mr. Toch owned three houses on the street.

In our apartment there was a large room, a small room where my sister and I slept, and a kitchen. My sister Helene – we called her Helli – was born in 1921. I was born in 1927; I was six years younger than my sister. Helli looked after me a lot. We had a good relationship.

I went to a Jewish nursery school on Schiffamt-Gasse, which wasn’t too far from us. My mother was at home, but they sent the children to nursery school. The nursery school teacher, a French Jew, only spoke French to us. That was probably quite modern back then. I knew a lot of French words as a child because of it. But I forgot it all later.

My father wanted me to learn all the prayers so I would be able to pray. That’s why, starting when I was 4-years old, I went to the cheder every week on Nestroy-Gasse. The cheder was very close to our apartment. That’s where I learned the Chumash [the Torah], the Alef Bet [the Hebrew alphabet], and to write in Hebrew. There were at least 20 to 25 Jewish children in my class, as a lot of Jewish families lived in my neighborhood. My parents had friendships with people in our neighborhood and we even had relatives nearby. Cousins of my mother lived across from us. I always got together with their children.

We could already very clearly sense the antisemitism back then. We played soccer on the street – there were hardly any cars back then so the streets were empty. The Christian children often came by and chased us or beat us up. We didn’t have any good interactions with these children. Later we would never walk to school alone, always in groups, so that they couldn’t attack us. That was simply the lousiest time in Austria. That was after the First World War, during the great economic crisis. People were talked into believing that Jews had money while poverty reigned everywhere else. There was great antisemitism. That was the mental beginning of Adolf Hitler.

In addition to his work, my father also had a job sometimes as a shamash [custodian] at weddings and bar mitzvahs at the Polish Temple. Uncle Noah, an uncle of my mother’s, grandfather’s brother, was the gabbai [assistant to rabbi] at this temple. Those were the people that ran the temple; he was a chairman of the temple, so to speak. And the husband of my grandmother’s sister was also there. My father got this extra job from them. The Polish Temple was a very, very popular temple that a lot of people went to. They had a fantastic cantor there, a hazzan, who was very well known. He was called Fränkel. A lot of people came to honor him. There was even something published about him here in Israel; and I also wrote something about him. I really liked going to temple. There was also a choir there. That was very, very nice; it was an enjoyable service. We always went to temple on Shabbat; we were always with other people there. The Polish Temple was a center where people would gather.

For school we had to go to Shabbat services on Saturday afternoon. That was a requirement because we were given free time whenever the Christian children learned about Catholicism. That’s how they balanced the time. Those services took place in the large temple [Leopoldstädter Tempel] on Tempel-Gasse. That was the largest temple in Vienna and it was already a bit progressive there.

For the first four grades I went to the Talmud Torah School at Malz-Gasse 16. That is a very religious school, which still exists today. Two years ago I made a film in Vienna with a few former friends. That was the first time since 1938 that I was in the school on Malz-Gasse again. During the war there was a hospital in the building; now there is a school there again. I began to cry when I saw it; I remembered everything. I saw the children in front of me – it was horrible! I still had contact with the teacher, Ludwig Tauber, in Israel. He was very Orthodox. I think he was a teacher on Malz-Gasse until 1939; he taught three classes. He taught everything there was to teach. He was able to flee to Palestine. He then lived in Bnai Brak in Israel. I learned that he was still alive and looked for him. He also came to my office. He came with my son to my office.

For the next four years I was at a secondary school on Vereins-Gasse and then I was at the High School on Sperl-Gasse. I was a mediocre student. I didn’t work very hard though I understood quickly and was a fast learner. The teachers at the Christian schools always discriminated against us Jewish children. They gave us worse grades for our work. We were a minority. We were satisfied if they left us alone; we were very patient. We had to make the best of it. That was our fate; we couldn’t change it. After Hitler arrived I went to the JUAL School at Marc-Aurel-Strasse 5. That was a preparatory school for immigration to Palestine.

My parents went frequently to the Jewish theater. There was the Jewish Art Theater at Nestroy-Platz 1, which exists again today. There were always Jewish artists there. And the Jewish Stage was on Tabor-Strasse. There were many guest performances from all over the world in these theaters back then. Where the Hotel Central is today on Tabor-Strasse, there was a giant hall in the basement where many celebrations – weddings or Zionist gatherings – took place. Our parents always went there with us. Then there was a popular Jewish restaurant on Rotenstern-Gasse, the owner of which later opened a restaurant in Tel Aviv. Sometimes we went out to dinner there. When he died, his wife and son continued to run the restaurant.

And there was the Restaurant Marschak, a very good restaurant across from the Schiffschul [synagogue in the 2nd district] on Schiffamts-Gasse. That was a giant place. People went there for Kiddush. There was good food there, gefilte fish, for example. Then there was the very popular Café Buchsbaum on Kleine-Pfarr-Gasse at the corner of Große-Sperl-Gasse. That was a large coffee house where many Jews met and played cards. My father also played cards there. Then there was the large Jewish Café Sperl, which was on Große-Sperl-Gasse at the corner of Haid-Gasse. I don’t think it exists anymore. There were a lot of Jewish establishments in this area where Jews gathered back then; then you met friends outside.

My parents always went to temple on Fridays for Shabbat services. After service we often gathered at my Uncle Benjamin’s, since he had a large apartment. There the whole mispoche [Yiddish for family] was together. The children were always there. If we went home after services my mother would prepare everything for us: soup, fish, and chicken. My mother was a very good cook. She lit the candles before the meal.

We had Passover dishware for Passover. That was kept in the attic and only taken down for Passover. The dishes would be swapped; my mother adhered to that very strictly and she did that since she was very kosher. There were a lot of kosher shops in our neighborhood. For example there was a shop on Haid-Gasse called Eisen. They made wonderful sausages! There was a Jewish grocery store on Grosse-Pfarr-Gasse called Wieselberg. If you didn’t have any money you could get credit and pay later. You could get all the kosher groceries there. There was also a sort of strange coffee substitute with chicory. The Jewish firm that made it was called Frank-Kaffee.

Then there was the large store on Leopolds-Gasse where you bought matzo – that was called Strum. Sturm was a factory, a matzo factory; Strum matzo. The Strum matzo factory was a very well known factory. My cousin Dora, my Aunt Sara’s daughter, my father’s sister, married the son of the owner, Strum, in America.

We bought matzo for Passover, but it wasn’t cheap. The selection wasn’t as large as today. The Sephardic Jews were allowed to eat rice and legumes – the Ashkenazi Jews weren’t. My mother made the noodles herself from matzo flour and various other things. She also made lekach [honey cake] from matzo flour or potato starch.

We felt fine until antisemitism grew. In 1936 a lot of our friends from our building immigrated to Palestine. Many Zionists had immigrated even earlier.

My sister joined the Zionist organization Hanoar-Hazioni very early – she had a somewhat Zionistic attitude. Later I was a member of the Zionist group Gordonia. Aron Menczer was our madrich [Heb. leader, guide]. I was twelve when I joined the Gordonia youth organization. We went on field trips together, they told us about Palestine, and we were taught to be Zionists. They told us, “This is not your homeland, your homeland is Israel.” It was always my dream to go to Israel and even if Hitler hadn’t come I may still have immigrated to Israel. My parents didn’t have any problems with it – quite the contrary, they were all for it. I think my parents would have also immigrated to Palestine, since my mother and father were not Austrian patriots. If they compared their life in Vienna with their life in Poland, where they were from, things were better for them in Vienna. There was a big difference between their life in Galicia and their life in Vienna. My mother, for example, came from a very small town; I saw it after the war. This little town was very poor, there wasn’t much there. Vienna, on the other hand, was the capital. At the start of the First World War, the Jewish community in Austria had over 200,000 members. That was a large Jewish community. Many of these people did a lot for Austria.

The Jews who were already residing in Vienna looked down on us Polish Jews. They were assimilated. They were already Viennese and thought they were good Austrians – nothing could happen to them. They were afraid of increased antisemitism on account of the Orthodox Jews from the small towns who clearly looked so “Jewish.” All the Jews from Poland spoke Yiddish and not German. The established Viennese Jews really did not behave nicely towards the new immigrants. They were embarrassed by these Jews. But many of us really came a long way despite where we came from. I don’t say that in retrospect; we always felt that way.  They also made us feel as though we didn’t belong. My mother spoke German with a strong Yiddish accent. She never wanted to go anywhere alone. Sometimes she went with my sister or me and we would speak for her and explain what she wanted. My father spoke better German than my mother and my Uncle Benjamin spoke flawless and beautiful German. You couldn’t tell that he came from Galicia.

My sister was an apprentice girl in a Jewish tailor shop at Rotenturm-Strasse 14. The building is still there. Because she had to deliver the goods, she got around in Vienna. My sister brought clothing to villas. She went into well-to-do houses where the ladies had their stuff sewn in tailor salons. These were Viennese Jews who’d been living in Vienna a long time and were already assimilated.

I went to the cinema a lot as a child. A distant cousin of my mother's owned a cinema on Untere-Augarten-Strasse where I could go for free; and in front of our building was the Rembrandt Cinema. I can still remember the films with Chubby and Dumb – that was Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. I also remember the Charlie Chaplin films.

My father liked reading the newspaper. Where do you go in Vienna to read the newspaper? To the coffee house! He was either in Café Buchsbaum or Café Sperl. There he drank a coffee and a glass of water, and read the newspaper. My father also liked telling jokes, and told them often.

During the First World War my father worked for the military police at the North Station [Today: Praterstern]. During the Hapsburg monarchy, the North Station was the largest in Vienna with important connections to Brno, Katowice, Krakow, and Lviv. For many immigrants from the Crown Lands of Galicia, Bukovina, Bohemia, and Moravia, it was the gate to Vienna. My father inspected the arrivals there. He spoke a little Hungarian, a little Polish, and little Russian, and said he learned those languages in the military. He often told stories about this time. Back then a lot of food was smuggled in because people were starving. For example, women smuggled eggs under their hats, and once one of the military police officers hit a woman over her hat – you can’t even imagine what happened there. That was fun for me to picture. My father was not a war enthusiast like many who became that way during the First World War. I don’t know where he stood politically, whether he was a socialist – but I don’t think so. My parents were mainly interested in things that had to do with Jews.

As a child I made a crystal radio with my friends. It was made from a coil, a crystal, and headphones. We could listen to the radio with it. That was very exciting. But my parents also owned a radio. We needed to hand it over after the German invasion. They took all radio devices away from the Jews.

Jews go to temple on Shabbat and after services there is a Kiddush where you get something to eat and talk. That is a Jewish custom, particularly in Vienna. After Hitler’s ascension to power in 1933, many Jews from Germany fled to Austria. A few also came to the temple where my father was and talked about what was taking place in Germany. He knew they weren’t making it up. But there were also many Jews that didn’t believe them. They were sure that nothing of the sort would happen in Austria.

During the War

I can still remember like it was today. The 11th of March 1939 was a Friday. In the evening I was with my father in the synagogue. A neighbor stopped us on our way home from the synagogue: “Mr. Luster, come here. Something terrible has happened.”

“What happened?”

“Schuschnigg stepped down.”

When my father heard that the Austrian chancellor was stepping down, it became clear to him that our bad luck was now beginning. I can still remember his words exactly: “Now begins our bad luck.” And that’s what it was! Schuschnigg stepped down and on Saturday people were already walking around the streets with swastika bands, looking for Jews. Already on Saturday!

My father immediately lost his job after the German invasion. The Jews quickly understood that they couldn’t stay any longer, that they had to get out. But that was a big problem back then. The Germans had already filled the government functions with their people – that happened fast, very fast. They even took over the police. They knew exactly who lived where, who was rich and who was poor. They surrounded the Jews and took everything from them. There were no more Jewish businesses; everything was over. My father wanted to immigrate to America. He thought my mother’s brother would help us, but that didn’t happen. Luckily he got a position as a steward in the Jewish community’s welfare office. He was partly responsible for public welfare, since the Jewish community was supporting the Jewish people as much as they could. 

My friend Edi Tennenbaum lived directly across from us. He was able to fleet to England in 1939 with a Kindertransport. I never heard from Edi again. His parents were from Riga. I had another friend, Julius Nussbaum, who we called Bubi. His father had a tailor shop on Miesbach-Gassse, in the 2nd district. We went to the JUAL School together. Later I met his brother again Tel Aviv. In 1943 my friend Bubi was deported from the Theresienstadt ghetto to Auschwitz, and murdered. The brother came to my office and told me everything. When he died I helped his widow get a widow’s pension from Austria, since I worked for many years for a small organization – the Central Committee for Austrian Jews in Israel – that strove to get retribution from the Austrian state for Austrian survivors and their children.

On November 10, 1938, after the pogrom night, so-called “Kristallnacht,” my father was arrested and detained. Our apartment was on the third floor. In our building there was a basement apartment without light, without electricity and water, and without a toilet. That was a one-room apartment with a small corner kitchen. A man lived in this apartment, an illegal Nazi. He came up to our apartment and told us we had to evacuate our apartment. He threw us out. When he came, only my sister and I were at home. We needed to get our things out of the apartment – that which we could carry – and go to the basement. And then that’s where we lived. We had a petroleum lamp there and needed to get water from the hall. I think it was my Uncle Benjamin who once gave me a camera. I liked to take pictures and took many, such as my parents in the area in front of that apartment.

When my father was let out it was a bit easier for us. He was pretty beaten up and told us why. They told him he couldn’t tell anyone about his experience. They had beaten and tortured the people.

My father lost his job as representative. 

We lived for about one and a half years in this basement apartment. My father went back to his job with the Jewish community. As the deportations began, my father was able to get a two-room apartment for us on Floss-Gasse. We no longer had to live in the basement apartment for our last year in Vienna. At this time my sister was already gone. In 1940 my father had the possibility – through the Jewish community – to put her on an illegal transport to Palestine. You had to pay money for it, people had to buy into it. She left Vienna in the autumn of 1940. She needed a passport and a visa. Then she went to Bratislava. In Bratislava she met her Czech husband, Israel Mayerowicz, a carpenter. They were married in Bratislava. My sister needed my father’s approval for the marriage, since she wasn’t yet 18. After some time the ship went from Bratislava, through Romania, to Palestine. That was a horrible odyssey until she, after many weeks, reached the port of Haifa. The ship was in a terrible state. The passengers were asked to transfer to the ship Patria, which was next to them in port. The Hagana [paramilitary collective] later blew up the Patria in port, so that the British couldn’t send the refugees on to Mauritius. Only the ship was supposed to be damaged, but many refugees were killed. Luckily my sister survived. She had three daughters: Ruth, Ora, and Pessy. Israel died in 1988 and my sister passed away in Hadera in 2009. All three daughters live in Israel.

My sister had a lot of friends, one of whom was a distant relative. Her name was Stella Monderer. She immigrated to Palestine in 1936 and in 1938 came back to her mother in Vienna for a short time.  But then she went right back; she had a Palestinian passport. Her mother fled to South Africa where she survived the war. My sister remained in contact with Stella her whole life. A friend of my sister’s was later a general and adjutant for Ben Gurion in Israel. But he was on a plane that crashed in Addis Ababa [Ethiopia]. His son came to my office once and I told him that my sister was a friend of his father’s.

After my sister had already left, I was still in touch with her friends who had stayed in Vienna. All of these friends were deported to Poland and murdered.

My mother was a self-made woman. She always, in every situation, held her own. That’s how it was later in the camp. She was always able to stand on her own two feet. She could also conjure up a meal out of practically nothing.

The Vienna City Temple was the only one left in 1940 – all the others had been destroyed. My father brought together ten people from the neighborhood – that is a minyan – and I had my bar mitzvah in our apartment. 

Starting in 1940 I went to two schools: the one on Sperl-Gasse and, in the afternoon, the JUAL School, the youth preparatory school for Palestine at Marc-Aurel-Strasse 5. In 1941, once I finished the last class on Sperl-Gasse, they turned the school into a deportation center. I was 14 years old and in 8th grade.

During the time in which we Jewish children weren’t allowed to go to school anymore, we had various teachers at the JUAL School. We learned primarily about Zionism. I read a lot back then, political books as well. I checked the books out of the school library. There were a lot of Sholem Asch books. Sholem Asch came from Poland. There is a Sholem Asch House in Tel Aviv.

I went to that school until our deportation. School was a blessing in those days; I was safe, had company, and was well kept. Some of my friends back then were Kurt Weigel, Berthold Mandel, Harry Linser, Berisch Müller, Walter Teich, Ehrlich, whose first name I’ve forgotten, Kurt Salzer, Tasso Engelberg, Georg Gottesmann, Ernst Vulkan, Heinz Beer, Kurt Herzka, Kurt Weinwurm, Trude Schneider, Thea Gottesmann, Gerti Melzer, and Shalom Berger. I was always with them on Sundays in the Central Cemetery, at Gate 4. We were allowed to play ball there, picnic, and behave like normal kids without restrictions.

I had the good fortune of having a father who worked for the Jewish Community, because that meant we were always protected somehow and wouldn’t be deported to Poland, but rather to Theresienstadt. Many working for the Jewish Community were deported to Theresienstadt in 1942. We knew there was the ghetto in Theresienstadt, but we didn’t know what was taking place there. We had heard of the concentration camps Dachau and Buchenwald since people had already been sent there starting in March 1938, some of whom were freed with a permit or affidavit. That’s how we were able to learn a few things.

Approximately 100,000 Jews from Austria succeeded in fleeing abroad. People stood in a line in front of the former Palais Rothschild on Prinz-Eugen-Strasse, where Eichmann had set up his office, the “Central Agency for Jewish Emigration,” from 1938 to 1942. That’s where the Gestapo was. If someone wanted to emigrate, they first needed a stamp from there to be able to get out of Austria at all. And you needed a passport, which many people didn’t have back then. For a passport you needed to line up at the police department. Then you had to go to the tax office in order to get a confirmation that you had no tax debts. Then you needed to pay a Reich Flight Tax, without which you wouldn’t get a stamp. Chicanery on top of chicanery! If you received a passport, then you ran from one consulate to the other in order to get a visa. People tried to get to England as butlers, gardeners, and housemaids. A few fled illegally to Italy; others fled to Belgium through Aachen, and then further to Holland. Some received entry into the USA. Then the Kinderstransports to England began at the end of 1938. The whole time it was about getting out by any means! People tried everything. There were also Kindertransports to Palestine, which you could access with a certificate or patronage. It was really, really horrible.

My father tried everything to get me out of Austria. He had no luck. He wasn’t able to place me anywhere. I had no opportunity to get out. Alexander Lauer, the son of my Aunt Hilda, my mother’s sister, could help with the escape to England. Alexander was a year older than me. His family was very religious, and he got to England on a transport from Agudat Jisra’el – those are very pious people. His mother Hilda died of cancer in 1947. The urn from his father, Naftali Lauer, was sent to us in 1942 from the concentration camp Buchenwald. He was arrested in 1939 and deported to Buchenwald. We had to pay for the urn and then buried him in the Central Cemetery at Gate 4.

If I’m honest, I didn’t want to go away. I didn’t want to leave my parents alone. I grew up pretty fast during this time. I saw what was unfolding and was often around grown-ups so that I quickly understood what was happening around me. People sat together in apartments and discussed all sorts of things. You went to people’s apartments because you were afraid to sit anywhere else. Coffee houses were forbidden, the cinema was forbidden, the theater was forbidden; “entry prohibited to Jews” was written everywhere. We couldn’t even go to the park anymore. We couldn’t sit on benches and we weren’t allowed to ride the tram.

Starting in 1940, after I had finished school, I needed to register with the Labor Office. I received an employment record book and then had to work in a factory on the Rossauer Lände that produced things for the Wehrmacht. I still have the record book. The factory owner was called Weinzierl. I imagined that he would help me and that we wouldn’t get deported. But he wouldn’t help me. He only helped my father get work in with the Jewish Community. That was our good fortune.

There were fewer and fewer Jews in Vienna. Vienna was becoming “Judenrein” [lit. clean of Jews]. The transports left for Lodz in Poland, Riga in Latvia, Kaunas in Lithuania, Minsk in Belarus, Theresienstadt in Czechoslovakia and other places where people where murdered. Within a few months, 45,000 Jewish men and women were deported from Vienna. By the time we had to go, there were only a few Jews left in Vienna. Those remaining were Mischlinge [lit. crossbreed. Term used for people of Jewish and so-called Aryan ancestry] and a few who earlier had held high-ranking positions in the Austrian Army. Only later were they sent away as well.

On September 24, 1942, we were taken from the collection point at Sperl-Gasse 2a – a former Jewish school – and led to open trucks by people insulting us, and then taken to the Aspang Station. They even threw tomatoes at us, and the Viennese yelled, “Jews get out!” That was the time when Germany was celebrating the most victories. They had already occupied France. I know that I was very sad about people’s hatred.  I didn’t know what to expect. I knew that I wanted to get out of Vienna and that there were Jews in Theresienstadt. There are Jews there; whatever will be, will be.

We were on the train for two days. There were around 1,300 on this transport from Vienna.

Then we arrived in Bauschowitz [Bohušovice. Today: Czech Republic]. The train station was located three kilometers from Theresienstadt. We had to walk to the ghetto with our things.

Theresienstadt is a city, a fortress, built around 1780 during the reign on Emperor Joseph II. It was a garrison town where the families of soldiers lived. There were many barracks in the fortress.

Two walls surrounded everything and between them was a trench filled with water. The walls were each eight to ten meters thick and just as high. They were made of burnt bricks. The ghetto was monitored by the Czech constabulary under the command of the SS and administrated by the Jews themselves. I went through three Lagerführer [lit. Camp Leader] during my time in Theresienstadt, all of who were from Austria: SS-Haupsturmführer [captain of the SS] Siegfried Seidl, SS-Sturmbahnführer [major of the SS] Anton Burger, and SS-Obersturmführer [first lieutenant of the SS] Karl Rahm. The SS people had an office in the center and lived in villas or a hotel outside of town, which became the Parkhotel after the war. Everyday they took a car to the office. The Czech Jews were in contact with the police. There were a few decent officers who sometimes brought over messages or things, and helped. You couldn’t escape since the police were watching. The Czechs, rather than the Austrians, might have helped, but they were naturally afraid as well. Most of the SS people were Austrian; there were about eight of them.

In 1941 Czech Jews had to build the ghetto in Theresienstadt. And they were immediately the lords there. They had the power. They had good posts; we were the new immigrants, so-to-speak, and were given the worst positions.  

Most of the Czech Jews – not all, but a large number – spoke German. The others were Czech patriots and didn’t want to speak German. They didn’t even want to speak German with us.

When we arrived, the Czech Jews, on behalf of the SS, took everything we still owned from us. Everyone was allowed to bring 40 kilos. I had a backpack and a suitcase. They took all the things to a large sluice where they were unpacked and appropriated for the people who were there.

At that time there were between four and five thousand people in the ghetto. They were still bringing in a lot of people from Austria, Germany, and later from Holland, from Westerbork. Much later Jews from Slovakia came. But most were from Germany. When I was in Theresienstadt the Jewish elder was a Czech named Jacob Edelstein. Our teacher from Vienna, Aron Menczer, knew Edelstein from the Hitler years, since he made frequent trips to Prague and had a good relationship with him. He knew quite a few people from Prague. Aron was on the same transport as my parents and me, along with around twenty of my friends from Vienna. Thanks to Aron we established a group with young Zionists. Because of him we were also given a better place in Theresienstadt where we could live together. Aron did all of that for us. We built beds, did cultural activities, someone taught Hebrew, we had professors that held lectures, there were musicians who gave concerts, there were theater performances – you could do everything. There was even a synagogue.

We had a lot of free time; the SS men didn’t care at all. They only did one thing: starting in September, when we were brought to Theresienstadt, transports to the east began. There was a connection between these transports and the Russian offensive. The battle of Stalingrad had begun! The Russians started getting closer to the German Reich. That’s when they started to send people on transports to the extermination camps.

No one knew where the transports were headed. We only knew they were going east. But we didn’t know where to. Sometimes horrible news trickled through, but we didn’t believe it. We didn’t know we would be exterminated in Auschwitz. We thought we were going to labor camps. But many were brought to Minsk, for example, where they were shot on the street. No one came back from those places. But we didn’t know anything. Sometimes we received messages, postcards. People made up codes. When someone wrote such and such, it meant such and such. That’s how we suspected things were happening there. But Auschwitz? The truth about what was happening there – we didn’t know. But we were afraid.

We lived together at first; that was in an attic. It was horrible. We had nothing. But my mother could make something out it. My father lived in the Sudeten barracks and my mother was given a different place with other women. But they could meet every day.  

Through Aron I was given good but difficult work in the kitchen with the food transport. I basically distributed food. It was difficult, but a great advantage. Everyone had a food card for the day. Mornings there was a little bit of black coffee and a piece of bread, in the afternoon soup or something else, and in the evening we also got something. I had enough food, so I could give my card to my parents. I stole a lot of food – carrots and all sorts of things – and brought everything to my mother. Then she cooked; we didn’t starve. But it was very, very difficult for those who only had their food cards.

Everyone had a large spoon on their belt. Whenever we ladled out of a barrel and the barrel was still standing, the German Jews would come with their spoons and scrape out the rest of the barrels. They were so hungry. It was terrible! If I’m honest, I have to say that we young people survived at the expense of the older people. What we stole, we stole from them. There were also a lot of people in Theresienstadt who died of hunger and other sicknesses, like typhus, for example.

Many people had a hard time adjusting to the terrible conditions. For example, the beds were bunk beds, and two people slept below with two or three on top. The ones who slept on top had it the best, since you could build something on top, like a table, for example. Married people also met on top now and then. There were situations there you can’t imagine. 

You could survive in Theresienstadt. But despite my good situation, I also got various sicknesses, like typhus. There were excellent doctors from Prague. My mother had a myoma [a benign tumor] and was operated on by a doctor, one of the greatest experts from Prague. She would have never otherwise been to a doctor that was so outstanding. 

My father built roads. I always brought him food. My father smoked and sometimes sold his food for a few cigarettes. My mother was always angry when he bought cigarettes. But what could you do?

Our youth group really stuck together. Four young boys from our group were transported before us on a penal transport to Auschwitz. Later I learned what happened to them. They were all murdered in Birkenau.

I was in Theresienstadt until September 1944. Fourteen transports left – women, men, all the young people, our whole group that was living together. We were all on the same transport to Auschwitz. My father was also there. I didn’t know what was going on with my mother. During the two years I was in Theresienstadt, the Jewish forced laborers extended the tracks from Bauschowitz to Theresienstadt. The trains rode directly into the city. They sent us from Theresienstadt to Auschwitz.

We were to leave on Yom Kippur – that was on September 27th. But the engine broke down and they left us there. I can still remember: I went with my father to the synagogue. We prayed, fasted, and the next day we had to report to the transport. On September 28th we had to get into the cars and we left in the evening. It was night and we didn’t know where we were going. They were cattle cars and only had a very small window. We watched where we were going, in which direction. Based on the direction we saw where we were going. We were headed east. I remember that we rode rather slowly through Dresden. I saw a little bit of the city. We rode through and kept going until we were in Silesia. We rode through Breslau [Polish: Wrocław] and arrived close to Krakow. We rode for two days and a night. Suddenly we heard screams – it was at night. The train rode slowly through a gate and stopped. The doors were thrown open, prisoners screamed, “out, out, out!” There were about a thousand of us on this transport. It was dark but all around us were lights, barbed wire, concrete, posts. There were signs on the barbed wire that read, “high voltage!” We understood that everything was secured with high voltage. Most of the Jews that were screaming at us were Polish Jews. They immediately took my watch: “Hand over the watch; you don’t need it anyhow.” They took everything I still owned back then. It wasn’t only me, they took everything from everyone. We didn’t know what was happening to us. We were herded to a platform. It smelled weird. What is that smell? Something was burning. We didn’t know what it was.

We had to stand in five rows – the whole transport, a thousand people in five rows – on the platform. A group of four, five SS men stood up front with dogs. We needed to walk past them and everyone was asked a question. I saw the SS man pointing to one side or to the other. The older people went to the left side, the younger people to the right side. You could think that the left side was for people who were assigned to lighter work and that those on the right side would have to do hard labor. 

People often made themselves seem older so they could get easier work instead of getting sent to the right side. For example, a friend of my father’s was a pharmacist. The SS man said, “What is your occupation?” “Pharmacist.” “We don’t need that, left side.” If he had said he was still young, that he was a metal worker or something, he might have survived. That’s how it was.

When it was my turn, the SS man asked me how old I was and what my profession was. “Electrician,” I said. I had to go to the right. Those were the questions from the SS people. We didn’t understand what was even happening.

And I accuse these Jews – the ones we met at first when we had to exit the train cars – of not warning us beforehand of what was happening there. The other prisoners didn’t help us, didn’t say anything; everyone was on their own. They didn’t say, “listen, there’s a selection, act younger, say this or that.” They didn’t tell us what was happening. They only wanted our property: “do you have a gold ring, do you have a watch” – they took everything they wanted. It was horrible!

I didn’t know where my father was. I lost sight of him. A few hours later I saw the crematorium and the fire. We started talking to the other prisoners. We asked them where they brought the people who were led from the platform. Someone said to me, “do you see the chimney and the smoke there?” They had already left as smoke. I was horrified! But I needed to believe it. I saw the smoke with my own eyes. And I smelled it.

The ones remaining were later brought to the Birkenau concentration camp, to the gypsy camp. There were many large barracks there. On the first day, everything was taken from us except for our shoes and belt. And then we had to shower. We didn’t know that our parents had been gassed in the place where we were showering. But this time water instead of gas came out of the shower.

After the shower we were given prison clothes. They were very thin and at that time it was cold in Poland, very, very cold. We were freezing.

The barracks had earlier been horse stalls for the Polish Army. There was a fireplace in the middle of every barrack, and the horses stood to the side. Instead of horses, they had built bunk beds there. There was a block elder who was responsible for everything. Sometimes they were criminals. Sometimes you were lucky because the block elder was a socialist. Many kapos were criminals. They also wanted to take everything we still had. They only gave us a little bit of food and took the rest for themselves.

In the morning we had to report for roll call, we were counted, we had to report again in the evening, and we were counted again, and often beaten.

When we arrived at the barracks we had to take off our shoes and line them up. In the morning all the shoes were gone, not a single shoe left. You just have to imagine, there was snow on the ground and we didn’t have shoes any more. Everyone was stealing shoes from each other. Without shoes, if you got sick, you were finished. Birkenau was ghastly! I understood very quickly that you weren’t to stay there; that wasn’t a place you survived. Prisoners told us that you needed a tattooed number in order to survive Birkenau. If you didn’t have a number, you weren’t worth anything. You were fair game; they could do what they wanted with you. I realized I needed to get out of there. If you stayed in Birkenau, you were fuel for the crematoriums.

The Polish Jews spoke Yiddish. I listened carefully and understood that SS men were coming; they were looking for experts. My friends and I stuck together, then SS men really did come looking for metal workers. We all signed up. We weren’t taken the first time, but we were the second time. We were six friends and were all sought out for work. They gave us better clothes and we got a number tattooed on our arm. That meant we were people. We received blankets, were brought to the train, and rode from Birkenau to Gleiwitz [Gliwice, Poland]. That was after three horrible weeks.

My friends Otto Kalwo, Heinz Beer, Kurt Herzka, Georg Gottesmann, Ernst Vulkan, and I stayed together. We stuck closely together. Gleiwitz was a German city back then. Today it’s in Poland. Gleiwitz was a large city and was about fifty kilometers from Auschwitz. There were four satellite camps to Auschwitz there. The guards in the camp were from Romania, German Transylvanians. They were even worse than the Germans. Those were horrible people. They took us to a factory where they repaired railway cars. That was a giant factory! In large halls were about ten cars, one behind the other. There were maybe twenty tracks there. The cars were damaged and we had to repair them. They showed us what we had to do. We had to slice the rivets. We did that with welders. It was really hard labor all day. I wasn’t a metal worker, but I learned quickly. It was cold. You can’t imagine. Every piece of iron was very heavy and cold. We worked in shifts: once during the day, once at night. We were given food and we could also shower. But it was difficult and it wasn’t heated. There were a lot of people in the barrack, so it was a bit warmer. Everyone had time to go out, but you had to sign out, then they made sure that you didn’t run away. We worked six days a week and on the seventh day we didn’t work. And in order to keep us busy, they had us report to roll call on the seventh day. Then we had to carry stones from a spot that was one kilometer away into the camp, and then carry them back! That was so we couldn’t relax.

I made a sort of pot out of iron during my welding work. Many of the other prisoners who were working on the cars brought me a couple potatoes, cabbage, and all sorts of things – whatever they found in the cars. We weren’t animals: you can’t eat raw potatoes. We needed to cook them. They would bring me the potatoes and I cooked them with the welder and then got a share. This food was able to keep me afloat. Sometimes we found a few newspaper sections in the cars. We were able to read that the Russians were outside Warsaw. But we didn’t know exactly… and suddenly we received the command that we weren’t to go to work. Everyone got half a piece of bread, a can, a bit of margarine and jam. Blood pudding is not kosher. You aren’t allowed to eat it.

We had to march. That was a death march. SS men accompanied us the whole time. There were somewhat older people from the Waffen SS, soldiers who weren’t on the front any more. Some of the guards were decent, others weren’t. It was very, very cold; it was still winter. We had no warm clothes and bad shoes. We walked, walked, walked… where to? We didn’t know. We walked every day; many kilometers. They shot whoever stayed back. We walked for three days. We weren’t given anything to eat. At night they brought us to a compound somewhere and we’d immediately fall asleep from exhaustion. We were cold; we were practically lying on top of each other. That’s how we slept, one warming the other.

At the end of the death march we reached Blechhammer [Blachownia Śląska, Poland]. There was a giant hydro plant in Blechhammer where the Germans made gas and artificial rubber out of coal. A lot of war prisoners were working there. But there was also a large concentration camp in Blechhammer. That was an Auschwitz satellite camp. There were French people, Yugoslavians, American pilots, Englishmen, even a group of British pilots from Palestine who were imprisoned in Crete. They brought us to the concentration camp. That means they brought us there overnight. I can still remember a large roll call square and about twenty barracks. That was the beginning of February 1945. It was terribly cold; a very cold winter. I found an British Army uniform that I put on. The wool of the British uniforms was incredibly warm. They brought us to a barrack and it was our luck that there were boxes filled with bottles of soda water. We didn’t have that much space. My friends from Vienna and I had stayed together. The others were brought to the other barracks. We fell asleep, dead tired. And then in the morning, again: get up and report to roll call. We constantly had to line up and be counted.

We decided amongst ourselves not to line up at roll call, since we heard what they were doing there. The people who couldn’t walk or were tired were shot. Why should we get ourselves shot? We didn’t leave our barracks. If you were going to be shot outside or here in the barracks, it would be better here. Why should we trouble ourselves along the way? Outside they yelled “Out! Out for roll call!” We didn’t go, we didn’t report ourselves; we hid in the barracks. But the SS men noticed that a lot of people were hiding, that they weren’t coming out. So what did they do? They began lighting the barracks on fire.

They threw burning torches onto the roofs and the barracks began to burn. They people couldn’t breathe and ran out. Those who ran outside were shot like rabbits. If you were lucky, you could make it to the roll call square. If you weren’t, you were shot on the way. We didn’t run out. Our barrack also began to burn. The soda water bottles saved us. We poured the soda water onto the fire the whole time, and we survived.

They shot people the entire day. Then they were gone. It seems they got scared. The people who reported to roll call, I later learned, were put on trains at the station and sent to Gross-Rosen. There were then still a few people, like us, who had hid in the camp. Many had injuries and died from them because they got no help. We stayed for two days. We had nothing to eat; we were hungry. But we didn’t dare leave; we stayed in the barracks. It was calm outside.

Then, on the third day, we slowly opened the door and looked out. We could see the gate through which we’d arrived. The gate was open and there weren’t any SS men in the guard towers. I left the barracks and others also came out. There were people there who’d been in the camp for a long time already. They knew in which barracks you could find food. We all went and broke open the barracks. There was bread and I took as much as I could carry. I was just about to leave the barrack with the bread when suddenly an SS man was standing outside with a machine gun, gunning down the people. I didn’t know what to do. A pile of people was growing. They were all lying on top of each other. I just threw myself on top of them with my bread. I lay there and he kept shooting. Suddenly he stopped shooting. There were no more bullets and he got scared, since there were many of us and only one of him. At that point he ran away. I slowly dug myself out of the pile of people. Some were dead or wounded.

I took the bread and brought it to my friends. So we had something to eat. It was very quiet. My friends and I had bread and water. After a few days Otto Kalwo and I already had a bit more energy and we wanted to know where we were. We left the camp. The others, Heinz Beer, Kurt Herzka, Georg Gottesmann, and Ernst Vulkan stayed in the barrack. They were too weak to come with us.

The camp was surrounded by a very large and very dark forest. You could barely see it was so dark. We walked along a street that went through the woods. All of a sudden we heard the sound of motors in the distance. We thought the SS was coming back and we hid in the woods. We came upon a hill. You couldn’t see us from the street, as it really was very dark.  We saw a motorcade approaching very slowly. I said to my friend, “Listen, these cars don’t look like the cars from the Germans.” They were a bit different. But we weren’t sure. They kept getting closer and we could then clearly see that they weren’t German cars. I learned later they were American trucks. The Russian Army received these cars from the Americans. Now we understood, since we could see there was a large red star on the hood, a Soviet star. They were Russians! We walked out onto the street with our hands up. The first car stopped. A soldier with a fur hat got out. That was the first time I saw a Russian. He wore a fur hat with a Soviet star.

I saw that he was also scared. I didn’t know what to say so I said “Yid, ya. Yid, yid.” (Jew, I. Jew, Jew) He looked at us and said, “ya tozhe yid” (I am also a Jew). It became apparent he was a Jewish officer and could speak Yiddish. Many of the Russian officers were Jewish; they could be used as interpreters. We were therefore able to speak with him. We told him that there was a camp. Then his company occupied and took over the camp. The Russians were very decent. Little by little they brought everyone out and looked after them. We stayed there for two more days. We were given food and the officer told us there was a small settlement near the camp. That’s where the German engineers who had worked in the large factory in Blechhammer had lived. It was about one kilometer away from the camp. My friends and I went there and just set ourselves up in a villa. There was everything there, since the Germans had left everything and ran away. There was food being stored in the basement: preserved meat, vegetables, and fruit. Everything was there except for bread. There also wasn’t any water or dishes. We went from one house to another and took dishes. Whatever was dirty was thrown out the window. That was really valuable porcelain, but we had no relation to that stuff anymore. We got water from melting the snow. Some of our friends got diarrhea; that was dangerous.

We stayed in the villa for three weeks. We had a meshuggene [Hebrew/Yiddish: crazy] life there, as they say. The officer visited us frequently. One day he came to us and said, “Friends, you need to leave, you can’t stay, because we’re afraid the Germans are going to start a counter-offensive and you could fall into their hands again. Head east into Poland.” And we left. He was the commander.

We loaded everything we had onto a cart and carried along some other things. One of us, Georg Gottesmann, was sick. He had dysentery. We pushed him in a wagon because he couldn’t walk. It was all very difficult, but we walked many kilometers eastwards. Partly we walked and partly we could take the train. The Russians had extended the tracks so Russian locomotives could drive on them. They built the tracks as far as Posen. We quickly learned how to ask the engine driver where he was heading. So we were able to ride along and go partly on foot. There were still Germans in Upper Silesia, in Gleiwitz [Polish: Gliwice], for example. They had an uncanny fear of us. We took everything from them, we threw them out of the apartments, they had to serve us. Then we were in Kattowitz [Polish: Katowice] and then took a train to Krakow. You had to pay for everything with money in Poland; they didn’t give us anything for free. But where were we supposed to get money? We sold a few things, a jacket, a hat, etc. We got money for it. There was a Jewish Committee in Krakow at 38 Dluga Street. From the Committee we were given Red Cross identification cards, but otherwise they couldn’t help us much, since they also didn’t have anything. We befriended a few Jews from Poland. The Russians were very distrustful, the Poles as well. They could have thought we were Germans who’d run away. So we always had people who could testify to the fact that we were Jews and thus protect us. We only understood a few words of Polish, but that wasn’t enough to communicate. We stayed close to our friends so that they could speak for us. We stayed for a while in Krakow.  The Russian Army set up a sort of collection camp. We could sleep there and they gave us food. We had nothing. We had sold all of our things, our clothes. It was enough for us to be able to eat and sleep. That was already something! We could see the city of Krakow from our camp and went to the cinema for the first time after the war.

The Russians kept marching forward, over the Oder River into Germany. That was already in March. At the beginning of April the Russians said to us that they set up a camp near Sagan [Polish: Zagan], not far from the Oder. In February they had captured the city in Lower Silesia, situated between Cottbus and Breslau.

We were taken to Sagan by train. There was a large Displaced Person-type camp there. There were already Yugoslavs, Frenchmen, and people from all sorts of countries there. We could sleep and eat there. Sure, we didn’t have clothes, but a friend was a good tailor. We had a nice sewing machine there and found bales of material. But our friend only had one needle for the sewing machine and it broke, so he couldn’t sew. So what did we do? We went into the city and searched the whole town for a needle for the sewing machine. We found one in the end. Not just one, but a whole packet. All the Germans had run away from there and left everything behind: the houses, the apartments, the shops, the factories. The Russians made it really easy: When they found a factory, they knocked down all the walls and took everything, even the machines. In the apartments they took out all the windows. They took everything and brought it to Russia. And whatever the Russians did, we did too. We took everything we could. Our friend sewed underwear for us from the bales of cloth, as we didn’t have any. Then everyone had plenty of underwear. He also sewed T-shirts for us. Time went by. We were in Sagan for all of April and May.

There were also gypsies there. We didn’t have much to do and so we had them tell our fortunes. I still clearly remember, the gypsy said to me, “You have a mother!” I said, “yes, I had a mother.” She said, “You have a mother!” She also said a lot of other things and she said to two other friends, “You have a mother.” We didn’t believe it. We knew that it couldn’t be.

After the War

Time passed, May 8th came and the war was over. The Russians came to us and said, “The war is over, go wherever you please. You can do what you want. You are free, really free!”

And what did we say? We weren’t too far from Berlin; we wanted to go to Berlin. We looked for a train headed to Berlin. As luck would have it, we were brought to a train that took us to Cottbus. There was a great big train station in Cottbus. The Russians had laid wide track as far as Cottbus; the trains only went that far. There they had just started laying track to Berlin.  We looked for a way to get to Berlin. All of a sudden we saw a boy at the train station with an armband that said “KZ Theresienstadt.” My friends and I were sure that the Theresienstadt concentration camp had been dissolved and that everyone had been sent on trains to the extermination camps. We were one hundred percent sure. We went up to the young man and asked, “Theresienstadt, are there people there?” He told us that people were brought to Theresienstadt from all possible camps. There were thousands of people in Theresienstadt. When we heard that, we told ourselves that instead of going to Berlin we would go to Theresienstadt. And that’s what we did.

From Cottbus we took a train to Dresden. We wanted to go to Bauschowitz from the Bodenbach border station. Bauschowitz was the train station of Theresienstadt. We were able to convince a conductor to take us without money, since we didn’t have any. We got off the train in Bauschowitz. As former Theresienstadt inhabitants we knew the way on foot; it was three kilometers. That’s how we’d arrived from Vienna back then. So we walked the three kilometers from Bauschowitz up to the fortress of Theresienstadt. We weren’t being forced, we were there of our own free will!  Sigi Ritberg couldn’t walk anymore. We had a wagon and so we carried him.

Stop, the Czech police didn’t want to let us in. The camp was under quarantine; there was typhus. We tried to convince them to let us in. We found a compromise in the end: we would go in, but wouldn’t come out. They let us in under these conditions. We reached the main street of Theresienstadt. There I met an older gentleman. As luck would have it, this older gentleman was a friend of my father’s. He worked with him in the Jewish Community and was with me in Gleiwitz. He was a barber by trade. To be a barber was a good job; we always needed to have cut hair in the camps. I had seen him in Gleiwitz. He looked at me, and I looked at him, and said, “How did you get in?”

He said, “You’re alive?” He briefly told his story: He was also in Blechhammer, but then had to go on to Gross-Rosen. From there they brought him to the Buchenwald concentration camp. I told him that we were in Poland, that we already had a whole world tour behind us. Then he said to me,

“Have you already been to your mother’s?”

I looked at him. Where, where is my mother? He said, “I’ve seen her. She is here!” I said, “But how can that be?” “You can believe me, I’ve seen your mother here in Theresienstadt.” He didn’t know where she was living, but he said that I would definitely find her. He had seen her.

I knew where I could find out. I asked where my mother was living. Somebody gave me the address and she really was living there. She was living with a friend in an attic, a woman from Vienna whose son I was friends with and who was killed in the camp.

I don’t know if you can imagine how it was back then. I climbed up to my mother in the attic and she looked at me. Can you imagine that? Well, the first question she asked me was, “Where is dad?” I couldn’t say anything and she said, “God has bestowed this upon me, your being alive.” Then she said that she had been told that someone had seen me in Krakow, which she didn’t want to believe. It was like that: Georg Gottesmann, one of our friends, had become very sick. When we arrived in Krakow, Georg had a fever. He had tuberculosis, as it turned out. So we did the following: we brought him to the hospital and then went away. The next day we looked for him in the hospital. There, in the hospital, I met a Czech man who had been a Madrich in Theresienstadt. He was also a patient. I found out from him that our friend had been admitted to the hospital. My mother received this news but she couldn’t believe that I was still alive. Our friend Georg was later transferred to Gauting, a suburb of Munich.

There was a tuberculosis sanitarium there. As luck would have it, we found out about it and immediately went to visit him, which helped him a lot, of course. Our friend had nothing in the hospital, only the clothes he wore after the liberation in Poland. I provided him with clothes, which by then was easy for us. We provided him with everything we could.

Back then we learned everything through word-of-mouth. That happened very quickly and then everything would be published in the camp newspaper. We published a newspaper in Deggendorf. One of our friends was even a newspaper editor. That’s how we knew so much. That’s also how Georg got the message that his mother and sister survived the war. But they weren’t in Vienna; they were somewhere in Hungary.

An older gentleman lay next to Georg. His wife was my cousin. She always came to visit her husband. She often saw Georg alone and so asked him where he was from. Georg gave her his whole story. She then said to him she had a cousin in Vienna, she didn’t know him but he must be Georg’s age. Then she asked him if he knew a Leo Luster, per chance. “What a question,” Georg said, “I grew up with him.” Through him my cousin got my address in Deggendorf. She was the daughter of one of my mother’s sisters. She lived in Berlin for years. In 1934 or 1935 she was deported from Berlin to Poland. I didn’t know her, but my mother did. My cousin was very pleased that my mother was alive, since she was the only one of the siblings to survive.

My mother’s friend, Mrs. Ehrlich, who lived with her in the attic in Theresienstadt, asked me, “What is with my son, Emil?” I said that I didn’t know. I knew exactly. He was no longer alive, but I couldn’t say that. I didn’t have the heart.

My mother and I received an apartment and my mother began to provide for me. She was overjoyed that I was there. Though, in the mean time, I had had a huge life experience and witnessed a lot.

During the time we were taken from Theresienstadt to Auschwitz, Benjamin Murmelstein was the last Jewish elder in the Theresienstadt ghetto. From that moment he was the most important man within the Jewish self-management in Theresienstadt. Robert Prochnik, also a Viennese Jew, was his deputy. When we got to Theresienstadt after the end of the war, Murmelstein wasn’t there anymore, but Prochnik was. The Russians had appointed a Communist as head of camp. I think it was someone named Vogel. Prochnik was a bit afraid of us, since a lot of things that took place in Theresienstadt back then are still difficult to judge. [Note: After the war, Robert Prochnik was accused of collaboration because of his work for the Jewish Religious Community – he cooperated with the “Central Office for Jewish Emigration” on the preparation and realization of the deportation transports. A lawsuit that was filed against him in 1948 was taken up again in 1954 and then finally abandoned in 1955. Robert Prochnik died in 1977. Source: DÖW/Internet] In any case he was afraid of us and helped us out with a lot of things. He gave us an apartment where we could live and sleep. We didn’t go without food. Then the Germans from the Sudetenland, who had to clean, were brought to Theresienstadt. We had to keep an eye on them. I bullied them quite nicely, these Germans. Most of the Sudetenland Germans were for Hitler, that’s why I took my revenge on them.

In Krakow I was with a couple of Austrian Communists who had been in Auschwitz. They went back to Vienna. A new government had been established in Vienna. The Social Democrat Karl Renner was the president from 1945 until his death in 1950. I didn’t want to go back to Austria. But my mother had entrusted a Christian woman with a heavy gold chain with a watch and other jewelry before our deportation and hoped to get the watch and jewelry back, since we owned absolutely nothing. That’s when my friends and I decided to go back to Vienna. That was almost impossible at the time because you couldn’t simply go over the border. We were told the only possibility was to take the train from Prague to Bratislava, at which point you could maybe go over the pontoon bridge the Russians had built to Hainburg, and then go to Vienna from Hainburg.

We then really did go to Prague and from Prague to Bratislava. There we went to the Jewish Committee; I had learned in Krakow to ask the Jewish Committee for help. We went to the Jewish Committee and said, “We are from Vienna and want to go back, how do we get there?” They said that a couple of Russians were on guard down by they bridge. You can go across if you give them vodka. They organized vodka for us. We went to the Russians, gave them vodka, and then were allowed to cross the bridge on a truck. The bridge shook a lot and the Danube had a quite a strong current. On top of which there was the meschuggene soldier. But we made it across and were in Austria, in Hainburg.

There were six of us: Walter Fantl (the only one of the group to stay in Vienna), Siegfried Ritberg, Heinz Beer, Oskar Weiss, Kurt Herzka, myself, and two older men who spoke Russian, one because he had been in a Russian prison during the First World War. The other was our interpreter.

We then hitchhiked to Vienna with a Russian truck. Our driver was a little drunk and a Russian officer was driving behind us and wanted to pass, but our driver wouldn’t let him. When he was able to pass, he wrote down the number of the truck. We arrived in Schwechat where there was a roadblock by the Central Cemetery. There the officer pulled our driver from the truck. He saw us and determined that we didn’t have authorization for the Russian zone. We said that we didn’t need authorization, since we are very familiar with Vienna. The roadblock was in front of Gate 4 of the Central Cemetery. We went along the cemetery wall, climbed over it, and went through the cemetery to the other side. And then we were in Vienna. They had just done work on the tram tracks, so we could ride into the city.

Return to Vienna

Vienna had been badly destroyed. But it gave me a pleasant feeling that they had destroyed Vienna.  The people went around looking for wood for heating in the bombed-out buildings, because they had no coal. They took water from the hydrants. Nothing was working.

The offices of the Jewish Community were on Deutschmeisterplatz Square. We went there and told the people there we could help re-build the Community.

Then I went to the family of the woman my mother had entrusted with the jewelry. And what did they say? The Russians had taken everything from them. But I didn’t make anything of it.

Then I went to the building we lived in on Schrey-Gasse. I knew that the superintendent had worked both sides of the fence – one day she was for us, the next day against us. But my father had given her all of our furniture. We weren’t allowed to sell anything. He gave everything to her. I wanted to visit her – maybe she was still alive – and went into the building.

The new superintendent said she was no longer there. And who was the new superintendent? It was the district chairman of the NSDAP [Nazi Party]. He had always fetched me to shovel snow and to do other low-grade jobs. Now I was wearing a British uniform – without high ranking – since I only owned this uniform and no other clothes, plus it was cold in Vienna! The Austrians both feared and had great respect for Allied uniforms. I arrived as an British solider, so to speak, at the building where I had lived until I was fourteen years old. I had, of course, aged in the meantime. The superintendent had a window through which he could see who came into the building. I recognized him immediately, but he didn’t recognize me. He looked at me and shook before the uniform.

 “You don’t know me?” I asked him, “I’m Luster.”

“Yes, so you’re still alive!” Through the superintendent's window I could see my parents' bedroom.

“You know who that belongs to?” I asked him. “That belonged to my father.”

“Your father gave everything to me.”

“That isn’t true at all,” I said. “You took the furniture from the former superintendent. My father gave them to Mrs. Schlicksbir, not you.” Suddenly everyone from the building came. Word had gone around that an British soldier was in the building. Then I went to the 3rd floor, to the man who had taken away our apartment.

Honestly, I didn’t want to be there, not in Vienna. In Krakow I had met a Russian boy who was working for the NKWD. His name was Grischa and he spoke very good German. Grischa wanted to make a Communist out of me: “Come to Russia, you will study, you will have everything!” As fate would have it, I met Grischa in Vienna. He was sitting in the Augarten Park where the NKWD offices were; that’s where I met him. We both delighted in the encounter.

“Can I help you?” He asked me. I told him I wasn’t going to stay in Vienna. Then I told him the story of our superintendent and the man who forced us from our apartment.

“If you can retaliate in my name, do it.”

I don’t know what he did but he was going to do something.

I didn’t want to stay in Vienna – I couldn’t look at it any longer.

The return trip to Theresienstadt was also quite an adventure. First we drove in a rental car over the border near Ludenburg. That was also illegal, since the borders were all blocked. Then we made it to Prague and from Prague to Theresienstadt. I told my mother that Vienna was not for us.

“We have no business in Vienna. Whatever we had to leave behind we’ve lost forever.”

In the mean time we had contact with my sister in Palestine through the German Red Cross. Prochnik came to us and said there was a possibility of getting to Palestine. He got in touch with the Joint in Paris. They could bring a group from Theresienstadt to the American sector in Bavaria if we were interested. I immediately agreed, since I knew that wherever the Russians were was no place to immigrate to. It was impossible! You couldn’t emigrate from Vienna. Everything was blocked. You could emigrate from the territory where the Americans were.

The Americans helped a lot. The Russians also helped a lot, but they didn’t have the chance, they themselves didn’t have anything, they were also starving. Prochnik really did give us the chance to travel to Bavaria. That’s how we arrived to the Displaced Persons camp in Deggendorf. The transport went by train through Pilsen, as far as Deggendorf. That isn’t so far away. There were old Wehrmacht barracks in Deggendorf. They set up a camp there. I still have the list of all the people who came to Deggendorf; many former Viennese people from Theresienstadt and a lot of Germans were there.

Deggendorf

We had a very nice time in Deggendorf. We stayed there for four years. I began to work, initially for the aid organization UNRRA – the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration. Later the IRO [International Refugee Organization] took over this work, and then I worked for the Joint [American Jewish Joint Distribution Committeea US-American Jewish aid organization for Jews, active since 1914, primarily in Europe]

I lived with my mother in a large room in the barracks. We lived well, I had a good job, I had my mother and a few friends. There was a motor pool there. We transported everything the people in the camp needed with the UNRAA cars. And we kept the cars in order. Later I was also responsible for a larger motor pool for the Joint in Straubing, and then later I worked for the Joint in Munich-Schleissheim. I had a car, a Jeep. I was given as much gas as I needed and could drive around in Germany. Back then it wasn’t yet possible to travel to Israel. The state of Israel was only founded in 1948, and you could enter legally starting in 1949. My job was good, I made good money.

The whole time I was in contact with my sister, and my friend Harry Linser who had travelled illegally to Palestine in 1946 and later got a good position at El AL. Harry, who was also in Theresienstadt, was a great athlete. He was able to illegally immigrate to Palestine from Vienna in 1946. He is still living here. Back then he wrote to us, “don’t rush, you don’t need to come yet, you still have some time.” Most of the friends I’d been with the whole time, also friends in Deggendorf, immigrated to America. From Deggendorf it was easier to immigrate to America than to other countries. 

Georg Gottesmann, who had been taken to Gauting to be cured, went from Munich back to Vienna after we learned that his mother and sister had survived. But he didn’t stay in Vienna. He then immigrated to America. He had a relative there – Otto Preminger. He was a director with Film Exodus. Georg then also worked in film. He was in Tel Aviv in 1953 and participated in the first Maccabi Games [Jewish Olympics].

Georg’s sister Thea was a childhood friend of mine and was also in Theresienstadt. She was a pretty girl; all the boys chased after her. I am still in contact with her. She lives in America. She is like my sister. That’s the nice thing: all the people who were together back then are like brothers and sisters.

My friend Shalom Berger was a good-looking boy. He survived both the ghetto and the concentration camp and was in the DP camp with me in Deggendorf. He was an intelligent boy, worked on the editorial staff of the newspaper we published, worked for the Joint, and then did his doctorate in America. Then he killed himself because of his wife. That is truly horrific! How do I know that? The university director found my address at his place, because I was corresponding with him. Then he wrote to us.

The State of Israel was proclaimed in 1948. It was pretty difficult back then, of course; there wasn’t anything there. It was a very poor country. The British didn’t leave much behind and didn’t invest that much money. They took out as much as they could. The British were not good colonial rulers.

Israel

My mother and I came here [to Israel] on a ship from Germany. We went by train to Marseille. And in Marseille we were in a little camp for one, two weeks. That was a sort of turnover camp. From there we traveled by ship. We rode on an Israeli ship under the Israeli flag. That was, of course, the first time either of us had ever seen a ship with a large Israeli flag. We even had cabins and were given food. That was a terrific journey! It really was a wonderful trip. All of us – there were about 100 people on board – were very, very eager. The voyage took around five days. On the last night we didn’t sleep. We danced; everyone wanted to see Haifa as it appeared. Around five in the morning we approached the coast. We saw the lights in the distance. That was a great moment – a wonderful sight! We slowly got closer and then rode into harbor. The ship road to the landing site and we got off.

We saw Haifa from below, Mt. Carmel, the beautiful buildings! It was inconceivable for us. A lot of buildings in Haifa were built in the Bauhaus style. The British invested a lot in the vicinity of the harbor they had built. The entire harbor district was filled with British offices associated with the ships.

When we were collected from the harbor we had to fill out forms and everyone was given a certificate of immigration. And the moment you received a certificate, you were an Israeli citizen. Then they brought us to the buses parked down by the harbor. There were a lot of buses. They took us to the St. Luke’s immigration camp. It was known under this name. It was once a giant camp from the British Army. After the British left, the Israelis turned it into an immigration camp. There were a lot of barracks, so they could easily accommodate people. Later they changed the name to Sha’ar haAliya [Gate to Aliyah – immigration to Israel]. Today you can’t recognize it any more; it’s no longer there.

Everyone was given a barrack. I lived with my mother. But I desperately wanted to go to my sister. I had her address and I had British pounds from the cousin I met in Germany. He succeeded in illegally immigrating to Palestine through Romania in 1944. But then he went back to Germany in 1946. He wanted to do business there. In those days things were not going well here. We met in Germany. He already had money, and always supported us when we needed money. My sister wrote us in Germany asking if we could bring some things with us. We brought a refrigerator and since my brother-in-law was a carpenter, we bought him machines for his workshop. We could bring in everything duty free. We dropped it off in Germany and sent it here

I had pocket money and had someone explain to me how to get to Hadera. I then took a shared taxi from the camp to Hadera and looked for my sister’s address. It was very hot then and I remember that it was July 6, 1949. She lived really far from the main street. The house was like a barrack; half a house. There was no electrical light, the toilet was outside – water, too. You needed to buy ice for the refrigerator back then and you had to cook with petroleum. Everything was really quite primitive here.

She lived there with her husband and two daughters. Our first encounter is difficult to describe. I recognized her immediately from the photos she sent us in Deggendorf after the war. It was a great joy – very, very moving. She had left me – I was still a small boy then, just six years old. And I came to her as a young man. That is difficult to describe.

Then I met my brother-in-law. We had only seen pictures. He worked very, very hard back then. They had to begin with nothing in Hadera. Those were hard times; it was difficult to earn money. But my brother-in-law found good work. They made the scaffolding for the new buildings out of wood and they lay brick on top for the roofs. The framework was made of wood. That’s how he got started. Working on the roofs in the sun was very, very difficult. But he was a very hard-working man. After two days with my sister, I went back to my mother at St. Luke’s. My sister was not pleased with our living there and she rented a room with a little kitchenette for us not far from her. We relocated after two weeks. Back then every new immigrant received an iron bed, a blanket, a thin mattress, and couple of other small things from the Jewish Agency. Later you had to pay back the money. I didn’t know that. We signed and they gave us the stuff. You needed the iron bed at the beginning, but later you didn’t need any of it anymore. My mother and I were then living better than my sister was. We had light, and the toilet and water were inside. When my mother saw how my sister was living she was shocked. We were from Europe, after all. It was such a huge difference. It was very difficult for her to understand that my sister had to live so poorly. So my mother always said, “you need to do something, you can’t stay there.” My brother-in-law then took out a loan, bought property, and slowly began to build a little house. Back then I was already earning some money, which I then gave to him. He built the house in two or three years. Then moved in before it was finished; there was no electricity yet. But they were living better than they had been. The house became really nice. There were even orange trees in the yard. The house is still there today. Both my nieces, Ruth and Pessy, inherited it.

Every Saturday my mother and I went to my sister’s. But I saw that Hadera, a city from the time of Rothschild, was a dead city. There was no life there and nothing changed. I didn’t want to stay there. It wasn’t for me. I knew a young woman and her friend from Theresienstadt, who my friends and I smuggled into Deggendorf with fake papers. They were Poles, but they also spoke Russian. They voluntarily signed up for the Red Army and served as nurses under General Zhukov. One later worked as a nurse with the Joint and met a Polish Jewish dentist who studied and lived in France. I had heard that he had begun working for the OSE [Obshchetsvo Zdravookhraneniya Yevreyiev, Organisation for the health protection of Jews], a Jewish relief organization, after the war in France. And I had heard that they had immigrated to Israel, since the OSE had opened a branch here. And what’s more, I had heard that he had come to Israel with a mobile dentistry clinic. At that time they were looking for someone to who wanted to work with the dentist – Edek Fisher was his name. Since I had worked for the Joint in Germany, they knew me there and liked me, and so they hired me. So I started working for them. The bus came on a ship. Everything was built-in: the equipment, a generator, and a big tank for water. That meant you could work where you wanted. We got water, which I always filled up. You could buy gas at the gas station. We had the generator. And we slept in the car. We had two beds: one on top of the other. We drove from one city to the next.

Thus began my work as a dental technician’s assistant. That was all new for me, of course. I learned how to make fillings and helped Dr. Fisher a lot. We went to schools and sorted out the teeth of the students there. We drove to all the areas where Arabs had earlier lived and where many immigrants had settled after the war of liberation; Ramlet or Beersheba, for example. Schools emerged there, as well. It was a giant vehicle and I could drive very well, since I had driven a lot in Germany. We drove everywhere and examined the teeth of every child. If they needed a filling, they got one immediately. We were in Beersheba for a whole week, for example. That was my first time in Beersheba. Everything was new for me. Beersheba was a Bedouin city back then. There were three or four streets and six cross streets. That was it. That was Beersheba. There was an armistice then. You weren’t allowed to get too close to the Jordanian border, since it was still dangerous. There were always a lot of raids – also in Beersheba. They warned us to always be careful. Today, Beersheba is a city of almost 250,000 people.

This relief organization began building homes for mothers. There the mothers learned how to wash their children and how to raise them. Convalescence homes also cropped us. We also supervised these convalescence homes. I met my wife in one of these homes. She was working as a nurse there. I liked her immediately. She had a different job there later. She then went to Ben Shemen – Dr. Siegfried Lehmann founded a youth village there in the 1930s. The youth village was for orphans and the children of recent immigrants. Most of them no longer had parents; they had been killed. There was an agricultural school for the older ones. Shimon Peres was educated there. The children and young people lived like on a kibbutz. My wife was a teacher there. She had a group of children she had to look after. She had to make sure they were dressed, that they got everything, that they did their schoolwork.

My Wife Shoshana

My wife Shoshana, born Riesenberg, was born in Milnica in 1924. Milnica was part of Galicia until 1918, which belonged to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and after World War One it was part of Poland. Her father died very early. Milnica was promised to the Russians after the Hitler-Stalin Pact in August 1939. The Germans and Russians divided Poland back then. Today the city is in Ukraine. In 1939 my wife was 15 years old. She also learned Russian in school when the Russians occupied the region. When the Germans began their assault on the Soviet Union in the summer of 1941, the Russians fled and the Germans marched into Milnica. First there were mass shootings of the Jews. Those remaining were deported to a giant ghetto further east where many died of hunger and illness. Shoshana’s mother was hidden by a family. The Germans found her and killed her and the people who were hiding her. My wife and her sister Sonja were in the ghetto. My wife and her sister ran into the forest as the Germans began liquidating the ghetto. There are large forests there. There they found a Ukrainian who was already harboring a Jewish family. The Ukrainian made them pay, but he didn’t betray them and saved their lives. When the Russians came, they were free. A bit later they went with a transport from Poland to Germany, to the DP camp Neu-Freimann in Munich. Freimann is a district in Munich. My wife immigrated to Israel in January 1949. Her sister and her husband, who she met in Poland, immigrated to Canada. My wife also had a brother, Zwi. When the Germans came, Zwi fled with the Russians to Russia and served in the Red Army, then in the Polish Army. He also survived the war. After the war he immigrated to Israel illegally. Zwi was given the largest Polish honor from General Jaruzelski. Shimon Peres was once in Poland with General Jaruzelski asked him if he knew Zwi.

Shoshana and I were married in 1955.

I kept working for the OSE. Back then the OSE didn’t have enough money and we could no longer ride with the mobile dentistry clinic. I looked for another job and found one with Malben. Malben was the main institution of the Joint in Israel. It had built up a network of rehabilitation centers, hospitals, and homes for old people and disabled migrants. I worked there for ten years. In 1969 the Joint handed over all the Malben establishments to the government and concentrated their efforts on improving existing social services through collaboration with the government. I began working as a “maid-of-all-work” in a hospital not far from Tel Aviv. That was a hospital for the chronically ill and for older people. There I was the buyer for vegetables and all the other things. I got the job because the director of Malben, who was head of personnel there, was a Czech, a Dr. Bensch who was with me in Theresienstadt. He didn’t know me, but he knew.

My mother’s apartment in Hadera had only one room. Starting in 1953, Golda Meir was Minister of Labor then, they began building cooperative apartments in Israel. You had to invest relatively little to get one of those apartments. That’s what I did.

A man named Shlomo Stendel had lived in the camp in Deggendorf and had built a sort of kibbutz on the Danube. There they had begun training young Jewish men to be sailors. He was the leader of these youths. Later he immigrated to Israel. I lost sight of him. Then in Israel he was responsible for the registration of these cooperative apartments. I went to him, he saw me, and because of him I was one of the first to get one of these apartments. It was property, but it was very cheap. I think we had to pay two hundred pounds. There were still pounds then and the mortgages were 1,600 for twenty years. It was a wonderful apartment.

In 1956 our daughter Nava was born in Kfar Saba. In 1959 our son Moshe was born in Jaffa.

We lived there for nine or ten years, partly with my mother. Then I worked for the Joint again and could pay back the mortgage. The restitution payments from Germany also started at this time and life got somewhat easer for many people in Israel. Before we moved here, I bought my mother her own apartment in Givatayim. I filed an application for payments from Germany for her, after my father was killed, and it was approved. We bought her a refrigerator with the first payments. A refrigerator was very important. They manufactured the refrigerators here, but you had to pay in dollars.

The atmosphere in the country was good, despite the poverty and many problems. We had a lot of friends. It was a strange country: parents learned the language from their children, not the other way around. I first learned Hebrew from my children. My wife spoke Hebrew well. She had studied Hebrew in school, so she could interpret. I could make myself understood, but couldn’t speak Hebrew. There were many Jews from Germany and Austria living where we were. We met and talked and we celebrated all the holidays together and took trips. It was really a big family. The whole neighborhood! That was very nice. We weren’t rich, but we had everything. For example, every Friday we met and everyone brought something to eat. There weren’t enough groceries. There were a lot of vegetables and fruit, bread was dirt cheap, but there weren’t proper things. And everything was rationed in the beginning. Sugar and oil were rationed. That was already over by 1953.

I also met other people I didn’t know had survived. Once, during a bus ride, I saw that the driver had a number on his arm. I looked at him and said, “We stood next to each other.”

We were really together in Poland. I think he had 50 numbers more than me. His name is Refisch. Luster and Refisch stood 50 numbers apart from each other in the camp. It became clear that he was also living in Givatayim, like me. We met up a lot – I’m still in touch with him. He has been living in England for a long time. That’s how it was, people found each other again.

What I also want to say is that at the beginning the Sabras – the people who were born here – did not treat us very nicely. We were cowards in their eyes. “Why didn’t you defend yourselves? You went like sheep to the slaughter.” They couldn’t understand. That’s why we also had little contact with the Sabras. They looked down on us. They weren’t the least bit interested in our stories. They didn’t understand what really happened. Only in 1961, during the Eichmann trial, did they begin to understand. There was a big turnaround. They began to take an interest.

I had the opportunity to be at the Eichmann trial for a day. It was very difficult to get tickets. The trial took place in the Beit Ha’am in Jerusalem. The first thing that deeply affected me was the prosecution speech from Gideon Hausner, which was broadcast over the radio. His voice gave me goose bumps. He stood and said, “I accuse you and speak here in the name of six million Jews.”

Many say they personally encountered Eichmann before the extermination of the Jews. I don’t believe it. No could approach him, know one saw him personally; they just know his face. Murmelstein and Loewenherz from the Viennese Jewish Community were connected with Eichmann. They had the chance to speak to him. And I know that our Aron Menczer spoke with him. It was initially about expelling the Jews and the theft of their property. Then it was about murder. I had a good view of him on that day of the trial; the room wasn’t that large. He sat in his booth. They were afraid someone was going to shoot him. A German lawyer defended him. But it didn’t help him. Eichmann is the only person to have been hanged in Israel. Afterwards they spread his ashes over the sea.

My mother was receiving letters from her brother in America, Jacques, who had emigrated from Galicia in 1914. He wanted to see her and bought her a plane ticket. But she needed a passport and could only get one once I paid the deposit for the iron beds that were made available to us at the start of our life in Israel. I had signed the bill of exchange back then. After I paid everything she got a passport. Then in 1956 my mother flew to America. Her brother lived in Brooklyn and worked as a waiter. Back when we were still in Vienna, he really couldn’t help us. He was able to save Uncle Benjamin and his family, but it wasn’t enough for everyone. Unfortunately my mother and her brother didn’t get along very well, they didn’t have much to say to one another. But they saw each other again. My mother returned after a few weeks in America.

My mother could get her bearing everywhere, even in Israel. She was happy to be back home after visiting her brother. I traveled to Europe with my mother again – in 1958, I think. We took a ship to Trieste and then the train to Vienna. We visited a friend in Vienna who my mother was in touch with. She invited my mother. She was a former neighbor, a Jewish woman married to a non-Jew. That’s how she was able to survive in Vienna. My mother lived at her place. That was in the 2nd district on Franz-Hochedlinger-Gasse. Her husband was a tailor. She was a Communist, a very serious Communist. We always used to discuss politics.

My mother didn’t feel very good in Vienna. We also went to our old apartment. We went to the cemetery where my mother visited her mother. After a while we had had enough and went to Brussels to visit my cousin, Bernhard Westreich. My cousin was a diamond merchant. He survived the war in hiding with false papers in Budapest. His parents were killed in a ghetto near Brzesko where they had lived.

We had a marvelous time with him. He showed us the most beautiful spots, we ate the best things; it was very special. We were in Belgium for maybe two months, then we went home – back to Israel. Bernhard’s wife and his three children – a son and two daughters – live in Belgium. Bernhard passed away in 2008 I believe.

My wife and I travelled to America at the end of the 1950s. We took a ship from Haifa to America. All they way to New York. That was one of the most beautiful trips; I will never forget. The journey took 20 days. The ship was called the “Shalom.”

One of my friends was a manager with El Al in New York and we stayed with him. I saw all of my old friends who had immigrated to America after the war. We were there for a month and had a really nice time with friends. Then we took the bus to my wife’s sister in Canada, in Toronto. She and her husband had a grocery store in Toronto where they worked. After the husband died she frequently visited us in Israel.

Then I lost my job because the Health Ministry had developed and took over all the hospitals. Then they were all government hospitals. The Joint wanted didn’t want this task anymore, anyway. The government then had their own people.

My mother died in 1980 in Petach Tikva. She was 88 years old. She spent the last two years of her life in an old age home in Ramat Gan.

I had kept my Austrian citizenship. There was a man working in the Austrian Embassy in Tel Aviv whose father was the founder of Hakoah. His partner was a distant relative of my uncle’s who had passed away in America. The Embassy was looking for a driver. I made a good impression and got the job. That was a really good job. I had very good relationships with all of the Austrian ambassadors. Because I am a victim of the Holocaust, they all had respect for me. I was even allowed to criticize Austrian politics. The ambassadors and embassy secretaries really liked living here. If you’ve lived here a while, it makes a strong impact. My wife and I also travelled to Vienna a lot. We were also in Germany, and we were together in Theresienstadt.

I saw a lot through my work at the embassy. During the Six-Day-War in 1967, for example, I drove the car through the old city of Jerusalem just as the army had. And then I was in the Golan Heights when the Israelis captured it.

Once, in the 1980s, we went to Vienna and from Vienna to my cousin in Brussels, and then we drove with my cousin to Poland. My cousin was born in Krakow and went to school there. He showed us Krakow. We stayed in a hotel and were afraid the whole time. Afraid of the Poles, afraid of the Communists. The Communists were still in power when we visited Poland. We went to Auschwitz. That was my first time seeing Auschwitz after the war. That was really difficult. That was his first time to Auschwitz. He himself was never in Auschwitz, but his father was murdered there. I had a diplomatic passport through my work. But back then Israel and Poland didn’t have diplomatic relations yet, that came first in February 1990.

Auschwitz was difficult for me. My wife couldn’t settle her nerves for a week after what she had seen in Auscwitz and Birkenau. It was horrible! We didn’t feel good in Poland at all; we were very on edge there.

I told my daughter and son about my past very late. I brought my children to Vienna before they went to military service. I wanted to show them where I was from. And I also started to tell them about myself. I showed them where the persecutions took place. I also told them about my time in the camps, but not so detailed. I only really began to talk about it when my grandchildren were bigger, when they were 14 years old and, like many Israeli children, went to Poland and Auschwitz with their school classes.

After traveling frequently to Vienna, we tried to initiate a large memorial plaque for the ten thousand Austrian Jews who were deported to the east from the Aspang Station in the 3rd district. There was practically nothing there, just a very inconspicuous plaque. That always annoyed me. Still nothing has happened. I have spoken with many politicians about it. I even told the current chancellor, Faymann, and the city councilor for culture and science, Mailath-Pokorny, at a gathering in the residence of the Austrian ambassador in Tel Aviv, that they should be ashamed. I would really like to live to see a memorial at the Aspang Station.

When my children were still young, travelling was very expensive for Israelis. If you didn’t have relatives you could stay with then you couldn’t afford it. I could travel with the children because I received part of my wages in an account in Vienna. So they were in Europe at a very young age, which was very nice, since it really broadened their horizons.

My daughter Nava is interested in many things. She studied architecture in Givatayim. She doesn’t like the German language, though, and so, understandably, doesn’t feel all too comfortable in Austria. My daughter is married to Izchak Kedar. His former name is Koronia, like king. His parents are from Istanbul. They are descendants of the Jews of Spain. Their ancestors, great-grandparents or great great-grandparents, fled to Turkey from Spain. Because my son-in-law works for the police, he had to make his name sound more Hebrew. He has two stars on his uniform. People call the starts falafel. He was a colonel, but now he’s retired.

My son lived in Australia for many years. But I didn’t want him to stay there and my wife and I brought him back. He’s not happy about that, but he’s here, and that’s important. My son has had a lot of girlfriends but isn’t married. He doesn’t have children either. Now he’s fifty. Maybe the right person will still come around. He makes films for a living.

After I stopped working I needed to find something to keep me busy. That was in 1992. I connected with Gideon Eckhaus, formerly from Vienna, who fled all by himself to Palestine when he was 15.  His mother died before the Holocaust, his brother survived in the USA, and his father was murdered in Auschwitz. He is the chairman of the Central Committee of Austrian Jews here in Israel. The Central Committee deals with restitutions, pensions, and citizenship for former Austrian Jews and their kin. In 1992 we began negotiating with Austria. A lot has happened in the meantime. The National Fund of the Republic of Austria for Victims of National Socialism was founded and Austria signed an agreement to pay 210 million dollars for stolen Jewish property. Additionally, the Austrian chancellor at the time, Schüssel, pledged that Austria would pay, for example, the care and retirement allowance of displaced Austrian Jews now living in Israel. We had and have a lot of people here who are affected. We help these people get their pensions. Today, in Austria, the children of Jews who weren’t born in Austria, but in America or Israel, can file and buy into generous pensions through subsequent payments.

Our committee is made up of ten people and meets regularly. Our office is in Tel Aviv on Levy Itzhak Street. This office is our own property, financed by Austria. I am at the office for multiple hours a day – voluntarily, we don’t take a salary. We are a registered association and we regularly write reports about our work and publish a newspaper. Austria gives us financial support and we have a good connection to the Austrian Embassy in Tel Aviv. Of course I have especially good connections because of my work with the embassy. I also know the current ambassador.

We have helped many people and they are very, very thankful. They need to average up their working years so that they have around 180 months. They can receive a pension with these 180 months. The pension isn’t very big – maybe a monthly sum of two, three hundred euros. What is good and important is that they have the chance if, God forbid, they ever get sick and need help, of receiving a care allowance. I often need help from the records office of the Jewish Community in Vienna. Mr. Eckstein gets information and looks for documents for me. Then I can provide information to the people who want to know where their relatives were deported, where they died, where they are buried. Or I need birth certificates. A Mrs. Weiss used to be there and I would always have to go to Vienna myself to gather this information. Now it’s easier, I just call up during the week and Mr. Eckstein tends to it immediately. I called today, for example, and an hour later I had the birth certificate. He looks immediately and sends me everything by email.

 The Political Situation in Israel

I’m of the opinion that the kibbutzim are the foundation of Israel’s structure. The Kibbutzniks were pioneers. They were socialists, that was the Socialist Party, the Mapai, the Worker’s Party. They had the majority until 1973. Then they lost the election. Any party in power for too long becomes unpopular. People who are in power for too long become corrupt. One party shouldn’t just be in power. They need to keep trading off. Democracy reigns in our country, which is very good. The Mapai lost the elections back then, then Menachem Begin came to power. Begin was Ben Gurion’s greatest enemy. Begin was a revisionist and was part of the Jabotinsky Party. Most of Begin’s followers were Sephardic Jews. Very many Sephardic Jews live in Israel. They had a great culture in Morocco, Egypt, Turkey, everywhere. But they didn’t form an elite. Many of the Sephardim are superstitious; they are very pious and still believe in all sorts of things that those of us from European countries had already rejected.

Israel’s greatest problem is with the Palestinians. They say we forced them out, which is partly true. But I think that’s just how the world is. For example, many Germans had lived in Czechoslovakia, in the Sudetenland. They wanted to return to their homeland after the Czechs had, both fairly and wrongfully, expelled them after World War Two. Did anyone give them anything back? No! Not jut one, but many generations had lived there.

The Palestinians want to return to Ramlet, to Tel Aviv, and to Jaffa. In 1948, when they ran away, there were an estimated 450,000 Arabs. Today there are 2 million. They’ve talked their children into believing that they were born here, that it’s their home. They believe they can come here and take everything. They’ve had that forced down their throats for years. There are 5 million Jews. Surrounding us are billions of Arabs. We can only resist because we are strong. Because we won’t let them expel us.

There is an area called Wadi Ara, which is located along the way to Afula, a city in the Jezreel Zone in Northern Israel. There is a nice route there from Tel Aviv through the mountains, through Carmel. You couldn’t even imagine how much poverty there was there. The Arabs lived as they had one hundred years ago. If you drive through today you see beautiful houses and proper streets everywhere. There is no difference to the rest of Israel. It was suggested that these Arabs go to the Palestinians and that we could exchange territory. They didn’t want that under any circumstances. They didn’t want to live under Palestinian rule. The Arabs in Jerusalem living in the Old City get Social Security from Israel. The Arabs don’t offer that. If you’re old, you can go to an old age home, parents get a child allowance for their children, they have health insurance – all that they’ve received in Israel. During the 1948 War of Liberation we lost the Jewish quarter of the Old City and the east of the city to Jordan. From 1967 Jerusalem was divided into Israeli West Jerusalem and Jordanian East Jerusalem. The Jews were displaced, the Jewish quarter of the Old City was destroyed, and access to the Wailing Wall – the holiest site in Judaism – was blocked to Jews. They would even shoot; they allowed no one in. During the Six-Day-War in 1967, Israeli troops recaptured the area. For the first time since the state was founded, Jews could pray at the Wailing Wall. But Israel didn’t deny Muslims access to their holy sites, but rather placed the Temple Mount under autonomous Muslim administration. That was 43 years ago.

When I arrived to this country there were a lot of poor Jews. A lot of poor people slept on benches on Rothschild Boulevard. There are poor people again today. Its no different here than in other countries; there are a lot of poor people in Austria, as well. It’s just like it is in Austria here; the system is the same.

The Orthodox live amongst themselves like in a ghetto. They want to be with their own. They have their own party they can vote for. If the party gets a lot of votes, they get seats in the Knesset [Parliament]. They have a lot of members there. Though, despite that, I don’t think Israel will ever become a religious country. Unfortunately the religious people meddle in politics. That’s not good: religion is religion; politics is politics. The Chassidim live in a part of Jerusalem. They also live in Vienna. They are anti-Zionists and demonstrate against us secular people, but they take the money for their children. And they cry out against the government. But that’s democracy; everyone can express his opinion. You can’t do anything about it. But I think they go too far.

At the moment relations between Israel and many states are bad. Relations with Turkey, for example. That is terrible. For a long time, since Atatürk, Turkey was anti-religious. Now, all of a sudden, they are very religious. Just like the Iranians. During the time of the Shah we had good relations and good trade relations. Like with the Syrians. They’ve persuaded themselves that they will defeat us. We only have enemies around us. It’s difficult to live with.

Note: In 1984, Leo Luster received the silver Decoration of Honor for Services to the Republic of Austria for his work in the Austrian Embassy, and in 2002 he received the golden Decoration of Honor as a board member in the Association of Austrian Pensioners in Israel and the Central Committee of Austrian Jews in Israel.

Sofi Uziel

Sofi Uziel
Sofia
Bulgaria
Interviewer: Vyara Gancheva
Date of interview: April 2002

Family background
Growing up
During the War
After the War
Glossary

Family background

We, Jews, have come from Spain. All Bulgarian Jews come from Spain. [see Expulsion of the Jews from Spain] 1

My maternal grandfather, Nissim Benaroya, wore a beard and moustache. He was a very hot-tempered person and he dispersed the family. As far as I know his father was a rabbi in Vidin. But my grandfather dispersed his children. My grandmother, Rebecca Benaroya, was a feeble person and did whatever he said. She used to dress like town folks, but there was nothing special in her clothing. I remember her being dressed only in black.

I don’t know what their life was like in Vidin. I only know that they had a housemaid. But when they came to live in Sofia, my mother bought beds and tables for them. They occupied a room and a kitchen. They only went to the synagogue on high holidays. They celebrated Pesach, Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot. They used to cook according to tradition – meals, which were cooked then. On Pesach they had matzah and Boyo [Boyo is a large flat loaf without yeast]. My grandmother and my grandfather were very strict. They lived on Czar Boris I Street. My mother had found accommodation for them nearby because our house was very small – we were three children and there was a sick man in the house, my father. Later on, when my grandfather Nissim died, my mother took my grandmother to our home to look after her. I was very little then – five or six.

Growing up

My father, Haim Nissim Benaroya, knew seven languages. He was a corn-merchant – he used to purchase grain from Kiustendja and sold it in Europe. As a soldier during World War I he had been very badly wounded and had lost one hundred percent of his working capacity. He was ashamed to be among people because he wasn’t able to move at all. We were very lonely. Only my aunt, Sofi Benaroya – she was gassed in the death camp during the Holocaust – who loved me very much, helped me. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have never obtained even a secondary education. My aunt Sofi lived in France, but she used to send me parcels and money, which considerably helped me to finish school.

My mother was a manlike, hard-working woman. Life made her such. My mother’s brother Avram – he was my mother’s benefactor – opened a grocery on the corner of Positano Street and Sredna Gora Street. There my mother achieved her proficiency in calculating and in reading Bulgarian. At that time marriages among young people weren’t a love-match. Parents used to do the matchmaking. Thus my mother’s brother Avram arranged the marriage between my parents. They had a religious marriage in March, 15 days before my father went to war, but I don’t know the year.

I have two brothers: Nissim Benaroya, born in 1915, and Rafael Benaroya, born in 1928. Rafael used to work for the Boyana Film Center and Nissim was a hat maker. After he went to Israel, Nissim worked as builder.

We were a very close family. My mother was a great woman! No woman would stand living without a man for such a long time, without going for a walk, without getting dressed up to go out. She only knew home, home, home… She knew nothing else, poor thing.

My parents weren’t members of any political party, but they were progressive people. I was brought up with Judaism. My parents were more religious than I am. Very little was spoken about religion at home, but my mother observed traditions. I remember that when Fridays came there had to be cooked meals for Saturdays and Sundays – that was our tradition. My mother used to send me to the synagogue to have the chickens ritually slaughtered – I was dying from sorrow for them, but had to go to do the job. Here, where the apartment block is now, there used to be a Jewish house. We used to get together there for Pesach and for the Jewish holidays. There were ten to twelve Jewish families then. My favorite holiday was Pesach because the children of all families used to get together and have a romp.

I started working at the age of six. I used to work in my spare time when I finished my homework and sometimes I went on working till midnight. We had a small grocery here, on the corner. We lived on the income from that grocery and on my father’s invalid pension.

We lived in the district where the families of the invalids lived. My mother told me that in 1922, when she was pregnant with me, she had to take on the whole workload – for the house, for getting things done. My mother used to bring supplies for the grocery. Every day she went to get whatever was needed in the shop – eight to ten kilos of sugar, etc. I used to stay in the grocery. I was very industrious. At the age of six I already knew how to weigh sugar and rice and constantly cried our wares: ‘Grapes!’, ‘Fresh watermelons!’. What could one do – we had to eat! We lived poorly, but we never complained. We were never hungry nor without shoes or clothes. We were always very well dressed; my mother insisted on that. She used to chase us with a glass of milk and wouldn’t let us go until we had drunk it all. I never learned kids’ games because I had no opportunity to do so. Whenever children came [to the shop] for a candy, they stayed to play with me for a while because I had to look after the shop.

My parents were neither rich, nor poor. Initially our house was a grocery, then my mother turned it into a living room, where my mother, my younger brother and I used to live. We had a small kitchen, too. My brother Nissim got married in 1940 and he occupied the other room. Those were big, huge rooms for that time. We always had water and electricity. We also had a summer kitchen, where we used to cook. From spring to fall we used to look after pullets, which we killed and had as a meal.

There was a woman who used to come once a week to help my mother clean the house and do the washing. We had both religious and secular books. My mother had no time for reading – the poor woman had three children and a sick man to look after. But newspapers were read every day. I subscribed to a daily newspaper called Parents and Children.

We, the children, spoke Bulgarian and Ladino, but when my mother and father wanted to say something secretly to each other, they spoke Greek or Turkish. As a little girl my mother had lived in Anatolia, in Turkey, and when he was a child my father had lived in a district in Vidin, where his neighbors were Greeks and Turks. Later on he traveled a lot, that’s why he knew many languages. We spoke Bulgarian everywhere – at home, in the street, at school – that’s how I learned it.

I had a free ticket for the railways. I used to go to Vidin to see my aunt Sara Benaroya. I was very skinny. I also used to go to a camp [Rakitovo], which was one stop before Velingrad. Children of war invalids used to be sent there.

There were four synagogues in Sofia then, but there were no synagogues nearby. There was one synagogue in the center, in Iuchbunar 2, where I got married. There was one beyond the canal – my husband was from that district. The poorest people lived there. One was located on the plot where Hotel Rila is now.

Our neighbors were Jews. Many Jews lived here, in our quarter – about ten to twelve families. We all gathered [for holidays] in our house because we had a spacey hall – about 50 people used to come. We used to gather on Pesach, Sukkot and other Jewish holidays. And children, lots of children, were born then. The Jewish community was in our quarter, we had no ties with other communities. This was a quarter on the outskirts of town. There were about 40-50 children of war invalids. We used to get together by a pole close to the grocery – because of me – and played hide-and-seek. That was my only pleasure. We spent our days at school. I had a couple of Bulgarian friends there – Lyubka and Lencheto.

I didn’t study at a Jewish school. The youth in my time was progressive. I felt bad about not going to a Jewish school, but the two Jewish schools were quite far from my place and there was nobody to take me to and from school. Later on, when I grew up, I liked it in the Bulgarian school. It was then that I got introduced to communist ideas, which were progressive at that time – I was a member of the UYW 3 the young communists’ organization.

I graduated from the First Girls High School. We were poor girls. A group of ten girls, including me, used to play hookey, but otherwise I was an excellent student. There were Jews at the school but I wasn’t friends with them – they were children of wealthy Jews, while I was the child of poor Jews. I managed to finish school thanks to Aunt Sofi’s money and the allowance I used to receive from the War Invalids’ Society.

There were both good and bad people as far as anti-Semitism was concerned. I was the best pupil in the class, but the schoolmistress made me repeat the 3rd grade – in her opinion I was a poor pupil. I hated those who hated me. I didn’t hate schoolmates, though, only teachers.

My friends were Bulgarians. My school years are so far in the past that I’ve forgotten many things. I remember having a lot of friends – Bulgarian girls. The Jewish girls at school were wealthy, while I was poor, therefore we didn’t mix. Later on, when I grew up, I had a few closer Jewish lady-friends.

I had a student allowance because I was the daughter of a war invalid. There was a lawyer here, Zachov was his name. He was a very good man, also a war invalid. He filed a lawsuit against the state, and he didn’t take a single lev from us, but he raised our pension from 60 percent to 100 percent. There was a pub nearby, which belonged to Uncle Vlado. He leased a shoe repair shop, where we used to leave our shoes which we wore for school. The streets were very muddy then.

My father used to spend three months a year in the Home for Invalids in Bankya. This was his holiday. We used to visit him on Sundays and that was our holiday. My father was very ill – he suffered from insomnia and couldn’t sleep because he had a grenade splinter in his brain. He died from it later. There were no operations back then. Although very ill, my father cared for us very much and insisted on our speaking properly.

The night before my father died – I will never forget it – he couldn’t lift his hand to feed himself, he was an invalid to such an enormous extent. My mother, Ventura Benaroya, nee Levi, was feeding him when he said, ‘That’s enough, Ventura, I’ve had enough!’ He suddenly reached with his hand to the table and took some grapes from the bowl. I said, ‘Papa, you’ll be getting better!’ I constantly inspired him with the idea that he was going to get better. He said, ‘You are right, I’m going to get better!’ We went to bed. As I already mentioned, he suffered from insomnia. I used to stay up late at night to read whatever I had at hand – a book, a newspaper etc. He suddenly said, ‘Please, give me the newspaper to read.’ He had no problems with his speech. He took the paper, read an article and said, ‘Let’s go to sleep now!’ So we went to bed. He would normally call us during the night, but he didn’t that night. I was lying in bed, waiting for him to call me, but he didn’t. I woke my mother at about midnight and said, ‘Mother, dad hasn’t said a word yet. Why?’ She said, ‘He has died. If he hasn’t spoken yet, he has died!’ We turned the light on and saw him: He had hugged my brother, who used to sleep in the middle of the bed, and had died with a smile on his face. It was something beyond description! A human tragedy!

When my father died in 1938 we closed the shop. We had no money then. I worked for the ‘Bulgarian embroidery’ along with doing my schooling and looking after a child. The man from ‘Bulgarian silk’ turned out to be a very noble man – he brought money for me in Pleven to save me from starving, found accommodation for me… He was a Bulgarian and had business deals with America; he used to send them embroidery from here.

During the War

Then laws against us were introduced – the Law for the Protection of the Nation 4. We didn’t move to the ghetto, which for Sofia was in the district of Iuchbunar, because my father was a war invalid.

First of all we were deprived of our jobs. I was working for the ‘Invalid’ Company. Then I became a governess. I was working as a governess for a Jewish family in Gorna Banya – the Moshes. They were Dodescos and we weren’t. But I was fired because due to the Law for the Protection of the Nation I wasn’t allowed to be a governess, either [to have two jobs at the same time]. We weren’t allowed to walk beyond Krasno Selo up in the mountain, but the family I worked for as a governess lived in Gorna Banya, which was further on after Krasno Selo. Then I found a job with another family, looking after their little girl. Then I went to work for yet another family – Jewish again. The grandfather was a manufacturer – he had a toothbrush factory. Their daughter was studying at the French College 5. She embraced the Orthodox Christian religion and ran away to France. She gave birth to a boy, Zippo. Then she poisoned herself. Her husband hired me to look after the child and I took good care of him. They wanted me to move to Israel with them, but I was already engaged to my husband and didn’t go with them. They emigrated in 1947 via France.

My mother used to do the shopping. I used to give her whatever I earned. When I got married, my husband did the same. He would keep only a few leva for cigarettes. I didn’t do any shopping because my mother used to do it. We always had whatever we needed stored in the basement – fruits, vegetables, vermicelli – we had a whole chest with vermicelli. All traders knew her because she had been a shopkeeper herself and our basement was always full of provisions.

I have worked both with Bulgarians and Jews. I learned many songs, knew many people. I joined the progressive organization Hakoah 6, a sports organization. We celebrated all Jewish holidays, but we celebrated them more progressively. As far as celebrating the different holidays the difference between us – the progressive ones – and the more conservative Jews was that we didn’t go to the synagogue. We were members of the UYW. We dreamed of establishing a state. We dreamed of peace and love between people, but not in the way it was later distorted – RMC and everything. We thought everything was going to happen like in the fairy-tales. But life showed its true face. I remember all events – particularly the handing back of Dobrudzha [after WWII the previously Romanian Southern Dobrudzha was given to Bulgaria.], the Czar’s death. We closely followed all events at the front. We used to hold our meetings for discussing those events at Vitosha mountain. Usually we spent the night there. We used to leave for the mountain in the afternoon and held our meetings in the evenings in order to avoid being heard or seen by anybody, particularly when we started hearing about certain things. We used to get on the tram after 11pm to go to Vitosha for our meetings.

Initially I was in charge of the basketball team; thеn I took up the Bulgarian folk dances group [in the Hakoah]. That was in 1941 and 1942, when Hakoah, which was part of the Slavia Sports Club, was closed because of the Law for the Protection of the Nation. My husband was a basketball player for Slavia.

When the authorities started interning Jews Bishop Stefan, Bishop Kiril 7, and another Bishop from Kiustendil – I don’t remember his name, but he is highly respected in Israel now and a monument was erected in his memory – raised their voice against it. When the authorities started interning us, the people began to protest straight away. We were surrounded and the Bulgarians who defended the Jews, as well as some of the more eminent Jews, that is whomever they could lay their hands on were sent to Somovit and was interned in the school. We protested, too. And then the authorities arrested the priest and the Jewish leaders and interned them initially in Somovit, then in Kailuka 8. Then the Bulgarians who defended the Jews and some of the more eminent Jews were sent to Kailuka and on the eve of 9th September 1944 9 the camp commandant set the camp on fire. Eleven people burned to death then.

We were interned in May 1943. I was robbed of my whole luggage. I went to Pleven with 20 kilos of luggage – I was one of the first ones to be interned. The bed, the wardrobe, the small table, the divan … we were robbed of everything. When we were interned to Pleven in 1943, I was in a group of five girls who were put on the train. We were told: ‘Don’t you dare get out of here!’ and we were locked in order to prevent us from escaping to the partisans. Then we were taken to the school and given hay to sleep on. We weren’t allowed to rent an apartment. We couldn’t walk on the main street, where bread was sold, so we used to ask ordinary people to buy bread for us.

I worked for a communist in Pleven. He was a Bulgarian, whom I called Uncle Tsonyo. I didn’t know how to sew, but he taught me. I learned to sew trousers within 15 days. He used to pay me a wage of 120 leva per day. Then a [secret] agent started to entice me – he used to come every day for me to iron his pants. Uncle Tsonyo noticed what was going on and said, ‘Sofi, I’m going to send you to work in the back room!’ So I joined the other two of his workers in the room behind the shop – one of the workers was a Turk, Mehmed, the other one a Bulgarian; both young men and tailors. Uncle Tsonyo told them, ‘She can sew trousers well now. She can make a whole pair of trousers.’ So, I kept on sewing – what else could I do? The shop was at a corner of the main street and a smaller one. Whenever I had to go out, I had to put on my badge [yellow star]. I lived like that for a long time.

I was married then, but had no children. I met my husband through Hakoah, in the sports club. I married him in January 1943 in the synagogue in Sofia. My husband, Nissim Leon Uziel, was unemployed. When he was interned to a camp in Gigen in 1943, I was interned to Pleven. Gigen was a camp for Jews. Jewish men used to be taken there from February to December; then they let them go home because they were all ill. My husband was taken to Zvanichevo first, then to Mihalkovo, then somewhere along the Struma River and finally to Gigen. He spent four years in forced labor camps 10 altogether. They worked hard there; they constructed bridges. They had to wade in water up to here [pointing at the height of her chest]. Different locations, different rivers... There were only Jews. A boy even drowned in the Iskar River.

Our life was a great tragedy. My hair stands on end when I think of those years. Could I endure all that now? I was in Pleven from 24th May 1943 11 till October 1944. This is the reason I’m so ill now –I lived through very hard times during the evacuation. I returned from Pleven to Sofia by train. I was pregnant at that time and gave birth to my son, Leon Nissim Uziel, on 7th December 1944.

After the War

When we returned to Sofia, we didn’t even find a speck of our luggage. An officer, supervising things under the Law for the Protection of the Nation, had plundered it all – he got in through the window of my room. Everything belonging to me and my mother had been stolen – even the plates and saucepans. After 1944 only I, my mother and my brother of all Jews remained to live in the district. All the others left for Israel. They were subject to an odd harassment, but nothing could stop them. I only pray for peace in Israel now! My brother emigrated there in 1947.

At the beginning my husband worked as a carpenter and that way he managed to provide for me and the baby. We lived with my mother who helped me looking after the baby. Later on my husband started working for the Trade Unions as an organizational worker. My husband used to go on business trips around Bulgaria, but mostly to the Soviet Union. He was an organizational worker. He organized the log-cutting site in Komi. Often he would get a call in the middle of the night; we’ve had a phone since 1946. He was involved in organizing many things. My husband was chairman of the Timber Industry Workers Trade Union. He used to organize the work of timber loggers in different regions of the country. He has been to Hungary and the USSR. He took me along, to Bucharest, Hungary and Poland.

Our views were progressive. My husband used to work in a carpenter’s workshop here, at the corner. We received aid and bought some things. Later on, when he went to work for the Labor Union, there was a special shop for the employees there and on a number of occasions we were given blankets and other articles. When I was pregnant I was given 10 meters of flannelette. They [the Labor Union] have helped me a lot and I can’t deny it.

My husband became a party member in 1945 and I in 1946. He was a more active member than me because I didn’t have much time for party work. The party membership didn’t interfere with our Jewish origin and way of living. We didn’t feel oppressed because everything was democratic.

We observed all Jewish traditions. We didn’t go to the synagogue, but we observed Jewish traditions at home. For example we had separate utensils for dairy products, our cuisine was Jewish [kosher]. It wasn’t difficult to be a Jew in communist Bulgaria, particularly if one was a communist. I’ve never told the children what happened during the war. I want them to look and go forward and never to experience what we experienced during the war. My father used to tell us something he knew from his father, ‘Study languages, girl!’ My grandfather had constantly repeated, ‘Teach the children to study languages! If they know languages, the whole world will be at their feet!’

My kitchen is kosher. I have a separate utensil for boiling milk. But since I’ve live alone I haven’t had the strength to work and cook. My daughter comes and helps me, but she lives in the countryside. She works there because she lost her job here. She used to be Chief of Department in the Ministry of Forests. My son-in-law used to work for the same ministry.

I started working for a bookshop because it was very hard for me to travel back and forth [to her place of work as a governess]. Apart from that I had to leave the children home alone. That’s why I had to resign. Thus I found that job at the bookshop. There was a Jewess in the party organization I was a member of. She was married to a Bulgarian and her son was the director of [the publishing house] ‘Science and Arts’. She arranged things for me and initially I became manager of the bookshop opposite the Culture cinema on Count Ignatiev Street. Later I was appointed manager of the bookshop opposite the Russian church.

At that time [1951] I was pregnant with my daughter, Eli [Nissim Djelepova, nee Uziel] and stayed home for some time. My daughter was prematurely born – in the eighth month of pregnancy. I had put the books on the top shelf. Nobody wanted to climb up the ladder to take them down. Those were books by seven professors – Jews, who were some of the most prominent professors in the USSR. They had been accused of espionage and were executed. When Stalin died we cried, not being aware of his atrocities…So, I climbed up to the top with my huge belly, the ladder broke and I fell. Three days later Eli was born, all blue with bruises, but alive, thank God! Before that I had given birth to a boy who died by the doctors’ fault – they had immunized him against diphtheria with poison. Eight babies from our district died for that reason then. Because my daughter was prematurely born, I had a longer maternity leave. My position at the bookshop was taken over by somebody else – there is no such thing as an irreplaceable person. When I went back to work I was appointed to work at three or four other bookshops here and there. Then I retired.

I visited Israel three times – in 1960, 1994 and 1998. For some time I kept in touch with my relatives through letters and on the phone. My husband’s mother [Simha Levi] was very ill, but he couldn’t get a visa. My husband’s mother emigrated to Israel in 1949 during the Exodus [see Mass Aliyah] 12. So, I went there and told them, ‘If you want to, you could put a tail on him. My husband is an honest and social person. The fact that he is a communist doesn’t mean he can’t go to Israel. His mother is very ill. Check it!’ So, within three days they let him go. The minister’s plenipotentiaries were Bulgarians and I said to them, ‘Please, understand, I’m talking about his mother!’ They let him go, however, they did put a tail on him; they safeguarded their country’s interest.

All of my friends are in Israel and most of my relatives are there, too. I also have some acquaintances there, but almost no friends. It wasn’t dangerous to maintain correspondence with Israel, but I haven’t done so because I had no time to spare. I communicated with my relatives in Israel mainly by phone. My husband didn’t want to emigrate to Israel because he had a good job here. He said, ‘I’m going to give our children good education. I don’t want to go and build a new country! What is going to happen to me there?’

I don’t have any contact with my relatives abroad. I only keep in touch with my brother’s younger daughter in Israel and with my grandchildren. They constantly call me. They respect me and love me very much because I’ve brought them up. They were brought here straight from the hospital. I have looked after them from the time they were babies to the age of seven. That was my delight… Everything! My daughter and son-in-law used to work, that’s why I looked after their children. At that time I was already a pensioner and was able to care of my grandchildren.

After 1989 [following the events of 10th November 1989] 13 things took a very bad turn. The economic and social situation got worse and people got poorer, including me. My husband had a paralytic stroke. Once, twice, three times… Having read a lot of medical books, I knew that when a person had high blood pressure, his feet should be put in hot water and cold wet towels should be put on his head. This reduces high blood pressure immediately. That way I kept on saving his life but the fifth time…

Currently I’m a member of the Health Club, which was established in 1994 under Shalom. My husband died that year and my son said, ‘Why don’t you join this club? That will be some nice change for you.’ At the beginning I had to force myself to go, but later I got into the habit of doing so and now I find pleasure in it. I attend meetings on Mondays and Wednesdays. I have received aid – once I got USD 1,000, then again USD 400. Now I have applied for aid for a third time.

I have four grandchildren – two from my son, Nissim and Yosif, and two from my daughter, Tsvetelina and Sonya. Only Sonya, of all my grandchildren, is in Bulgaria. The others live in Israel.

Glossary

1 Expulsion of the Jews from Spain

The Sephardi population of the Balkans originates from the Jews 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).

2 Iuchbunar

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

3 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. After the coup d’etat in 1934, when the 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.

4 Law for the Protection of the Nation

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

5 French College

An elite Catholic college teaching French language and culture and subsidized by the French Carmelites. It was closed in 1944.

6 Hakoah

Max Nordau’s call for the creation of a ‘new Jew’ and for ‘muscular Judaism’ at the second World Zionist Congress in 1898 that marked the beginning of a new awareness of physical culture among Jews, particularly in Europe. At the turn of the century, Jewish gymnastics clubs were established, encouraging Jewish youngsters to engage in physical exercise and serving as a framework for nationalistic activity. Beginning in 1906, broader-based sports clubs were also established. Most prominent in the interwar period were the Hakoah Club of Vienna and Hagibor Club of Prague, whose notable achievements in national and international track and field and swimming competitions aroused pride and identification among the European Jewry. The greatest of them all was the Hakoah soccer team, which won the Austrian championship in 1925. The best Jewish soccer players in Central Europe joined its ranks, bringing the team worldwide acclaim. Today Hakoah clubs exist all over the world and mainly represent the community as a social club. However, the original purpose of soccer remains high on the list of the clubs’ activities.

7 Bishop Kiril (1901-1971)

Metropolitan of Plovdiv during World War II. He vigorously opposed the anti-Jewish policies of the Bulgarian government after 1941 and took active steps against it. In March 1943 the deportation of the 1,500 Plovdiv Jews began and Kiril succeeded stopping it by sending a protest to King Boris III, threatening the local police chief as well as by him lying across the railway track. Since 1953 until his death he was the Patriach of Bulgaria. In 2002 he was posthumously recognized as one of the Righteous Among the Nations by Yad Vashem.

8 Kailuka concentration camp

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

9 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.

10 Forced labor camps in Bulgaria

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

11 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 out against the deportation of Bulgarian Jews. Although there was no official document banning deportation, Bulgarian Jews were saved, unlike those from Bulgarian occupied Aegean Thrace and Macedonia.

12 Mass Aliyah

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

13 10th November 1989

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

Maria Ziemna

Interviewer: Marta Cobel-Tokarska

Date of interview: October 2005

Mrs. Maria Ziemna lives with her daughter in Bielany, one of the districts of Warsaw. Her apartment is tastefully decorated, filled with books and keepsakes from times gone by. I met Mrs. Ziemna several times and at first she had difficulties overcoming her fear and tension. But when that happened, the story went on smoothly. Mrs. Ziemna defines her identity in various ways, at some moments of her life she felt more Polish, at others more Jewish. It was not until the time of war, while hiding ‘on Aryan papers,’ that she felt her Jewish identity.

About my family first, right? Because I thought I’d be talking about myself first, about my birth… That’s all right, I can talk. The closest to me was my mother’s mother, my beloved Grandma Antonina Rumeld, maiden name Herzman. She came from Chocholow [town in the Tatra Mountains, 100 km south of Cracow]. My grandma had nine siblings, and I think she was the eldest. Their mother died early, she had cancer, and Grandma looked after her siblings, took care of the house. Five out of her nine siblings emigrated to America before World War I.

I think they were the only Jewish family in Chocholow. Grandma spoke in a highlander dialect because they lived there among highlanders. They had a store there, and maybe also a diner.

Grandma married relatively late for those times, when she was about 25, she was an old maid then. Antonina and Herman Rumeld. She called the shots in that marriage, he was more passive. They had four children, the eldest was my mother, then there was a son: Karol, then there were twins: Stefan and Alfred. Alfred died when he was ten. Three children were left, whom Grandma educated. She had only completed three grades herself. They lived in Tarnow [city 90 km east from Cracow] for some time, then in Cracow. In Cracow the children continued their education, and tutored others all the time, because they were poor. And Grandma made money boarding people.

After World War I [after 1918] my Grandma went with her husband to Zakopane [town at the foot of the Tatra Mountains, about 100 km south of Cracow] and ran boarding houses. She bought the villa Pogon. The owners used to be the Radziwills 1 and Pogon was their coat of arms. She ran that boarding house until the war broke out.

During the dead season, when Grandma had no guests, she always fed a group of poor painters, who offered their paintings in return. I think I had a closer relationship with Grandma than with my mother. I loved her dearly; she ran the boarding house very energetically, very well. Despite the fact that she had finished only three grades, she was able to get all business done in the office. Her husband didn’t help her much; he did something, some registrations. They didn’t celebrate Jewish holidays in the boarding house; there was always a Christmas tree there. There was no kosher food. And the guests were mixed.

The dead season was November. Grandma used to come to us, to Cracow, then. She spent her time away from her own matters, with us. She worked very hard. Just before the war, her sons and the daughter took their parents from Zakopane and split them in such a way that they took the mother to Warsaw. And she died there after the bombing. [Editor’s note: In September 1939, after WWII broke out, the Germans bombed the area of Poland, particularly large cities like Warsaw]. And her husband, Grandpa, stayed with us in Cracow.

When it comes to Grandpa, Herman Rumeld, I know that in my childhood he used to play poker with me and tell me stories. I know he used to write. I don’t know whether it was in Yiddish or in Hebrew, but he wrote stories in one of these languages, apparently very good ones, but all that got lost. He came from a more religious, Jewish family. I know he used to be a teacher when he was young, but I don’t know what he taught. Then during World War I he was in the Austrian army 2, he was injured, later he had a disability pension.

My grandparents, fortunately, died a natural death. Grandpa Rumeld was extraordinarily patient, when he was sick, he never complained. I didn’t have a close relationship with him, but I admire him for dying so bravely. He was a very quiet, calm person, who lived in the shadow of his wife. That’s how it was.

I have to say one more thing about this family from Chocholow. Because here I hold a grudge against my parents for separating from that part of the family which remained more Jewish. Because I remember that some relatives used to come from Chocholow to Zakopane, nobody introduced them to me or me to them. They were received somewhere at the back, given some food, money, clothing, but I was kept away from it. And so I hold a grudge, because I didn’t really know that family.

That’s all about my mother’s parents, and when it comes to my father’s parents, I had looser ties with them, even though they lived in Cracow. They lived on Sarego Street, not far from our apartment on Dietla Street, where I lived until I was twelve years old. Grandfather Herman Zipper had a shipping company, together with his partner Margulies and he was well off. Grandma Basia [short for Barbara] Zipper apparently used to play piano really well, but I never heard her play. She was a quiet person. And only she used to go to the Tempel [the Tempel synagogue in Cracow] on holidays, and I used to go to pick her up and walk her home. I had little contact with them.

I loved Grandma [Rumeld] most, and to them [the Zipper family] we used to go for dinners on Sundays. Grandma Zipper died just before the war, in June 1939, of diabetes. And Grandpa died during the war, I’ll talk about that later, how it was with Grandpa.

My father’s name was Ludwik Zipper. He was born on 25th February 1893. And, well, Father graduated from the Faculty of Law. I have his diploma, a huge sheet of paper, with signatures of very well known professors, his graduation diploma from Jagiellonian University 3.

Grandfather Zipper wanted my father to work for his company. But my father worked there only for a few days, because Grandpa kept telling him what to do, where to go, to say good morning, to introduce himself… So Father got himself a job somewhere else. For many years, until the war, he worked for Powszechny Bank Kredytowy [Polish for ‘common credit bank’] as a bank managing clerk. He was well paid, we were well off.

My mother’s name was Anna Zipper, maiden name Rumeld. She was born on 8th February 1896. She finished a classical gymnasium on Wolska Street. She knew Latin and Greek well; she even helped my daughter with Latin. As an unmarried woman she was a clerk in the Cracow power plant. After she got married she did nothing. That is, she didn’t work, she led a social life, in coffeehouses and such; that was before the war, she had her friends and she used to get together with them.

The concentration camp was a horrible experience to her. She had had such a calm, organized life. My mother was hard of hearing. Once she went out to greet her fiancée who was returning from the front. She had the flu, she didn’t recover completely and that caused an atrophy of the ear nerve.

I don’t know exactly how they met, but my father took part in the war [WWI, 1914-1918], he served in the heavy artillery, having graduated from the Austrian officer cadets’ school, then in the Austrian army on the Italian front 4, and then in the Polish army on the Bolshevik front. They got married in 1919. I think in Cracow, probably in the Tempel [the Tempel synagogue], but I don’t know for sure.

My father had only one brother, Kuba [short for Jakob], who died in unclear circumstances in Zakopane, as a young boy. So I can only tell you about Mother’s siblings. I already said that one brother, Alfred, died as a child, so two uncles were left.

The older one, Karol, was a doctor, a gynecological endocrinologist. He had four wives in his life. He had no children. I remember his first wedding, which took place in the Tempel in Cracow; I was just a few years old then. Later, just before the war, he changed religions, converted to Evangelism [he became a Protestant] and married a girl 20 years younger than him, Wanda Rutkowska, but everyone called her Marta. I loved her very much. She was three years older than me. Marta was Catholic. She died in 1948. Later Karol had two more wives. Karol was the only one in the family who leaned towards communism, he wasn’t in the Party, but he had such tendencies.

The second uncle, Stefan, was a professor of Polish. That’s the twin who lost his brother when they were ten. Stefan married a girl from Warsaw, from a wealthy home. Her name was Cesia [short for Cecylia]. Stefan and Cecylia Rumeld. She taught French, and he taught Polish; they taught in Jewish high schools in Warsaw. Cesia taught in the Mirlas school [a private high school whose owner was Mrs. Mirlas] but I don’t know where the school was located before the war [during the war secret classes were held in private homes].

Cesia’s maiden name was Kamienicka; hers was a well known Warsaw family. Her uncle owned the Plutos plant, a well known candy factory. As for her father, I don’t know what he did, but they were very rich people. But I don’t think that they [Cesia and Stefan] used it [took advantage of Cesia’s father’s wealth], they lived off their teachers’ salaries. It was a very loving marriage.

They both died in the ghetto 5. I have to say this: Karol, who was outside the ghetto, sent someone to take his brother out, but he didn’t really want to take his sister-in-law, whom he didn’t like. They were bargaining about the sister-in-law, Stefan didn’t want to leave without her, and later it was too late to leave. That’s how it was. I can’t forgive Karol for that, because I loved Cesia and Stefan very much.

I was born in 1922. On 1st July. I can say I had a good childhood. I was born at home, on Dietla Street in Cracow. 101 Dietla Street, back premises, third floor, it was a house on the border of the Jewish district. It was the apartment of my grandparents, the Rumelds, who went to Zakopane. Three bedrooms, arranged one next to the other, there was a dining room in the middle one. At the beginning some tenant lived in the first room.

That’s where we lived until I was twelve. Then we moved to 5 Krasinskiego Avenue, next to where the department store Jubilat is today. That was a type of an apartment I’ve never had since that time. Three bedrooms that were about 120 square meters, a hallway, a pantry next to the kitchen, the servant had her own bedroom with a window. And in the bathroom there were appliances that I still don’t have, for example, apart from a sink, there was a special dish for brushing teeth, like at a dentist’s, a round bowl for spitting. So that you wouldn’t spit into the sink. There was also a bidet and other appliances like that.

It was a very beautiful apartment, on the 5th floor; we lived there until the war broke out. Because those were some of the most beautiful houses in Cracow, the Germans quickly turned it into a German district. And they took this apartment from us with everything that was in it. Except for those things that we managed to take out. There were Persian carpets, there were good paintings there.

Our servant’s name was Jozia Klosowska. She was with us for many years, and remained in that apartment with the Germans. After the war my mom went to Warsaw and Jozia still lived there. We treated the servant very well, but not to the extent of her being a member of the family. I wasn’t allowed to be rude to her, we used to address her in the third person singular, ‘Jozia will do this and that.’ She had to know her place. She didn’t eat at the table with us, but she was treated well. She had her own room with a sink; she could use the bathroom of course, too. Did I feel anything for her? No, no, Jozia just did everything. She cooked, she cleaned.

Aside from that, a dressmaker, Natalia, used to come to our home. We would put a sewing machine in Jozia’s room then, and Natalia would sew whatever was needed in the house. She used to get 3 zloty a day and accommodation. My mom had a friend, Mrs. Minder, the best dressmaker in Cracow. She didn’t usually get things made by her, because it was very expensive, but she used to get patterns from her and then Natalia was able to copy everything. She would stay with us for a week or two, at times.

I can’t remember what it was like with the laundry. Whether Jozia did the laundry or somebody else came. There were no washing machines then. My mom did some shopping, she would get better, but lighter things. I don’t know where she shopped, in Cracow there were Meinl colonial stores [Meinl was the name of the owner of the store]. There was a store on the market where my Mother used to buy cold cuts.

I used to get money to buy a newspaper called ‘Cinema,’ because I was interested in actors. I collected pictures of Shirley Temple [born in 1928, American actress, most popular and famous child star of all time] and Gary Cooper [1901-1961, American actor known for his parts in westerns], my love. We also read IKC [Ilustrowany Kurier Codzienny - Daily Illustrated Courier] 6 at home.

My father was a managing clerk at a bank, and there were such customs then, that a bank manager used to get sweets from the clients. Father used to get wine, or beer, very often. But I wasn’t really into it; I didn’t really like to eat. It wasn’t until just before the war that I got some appetite. Or maybe during the war. When there was nothing.

Other than that, I had a wonderful kitchen in Zakopane, my grandma fed guests there five times a day. How can you eat five times a day? Breakfast, lunch, dinner, afternoon snack, supper, and all of that, very abundant. And it was really very good food. But at home we ate very modestly, because Father had liver problems, he used to get attacks. The camp [Majdanek, later Gross-Rosen, where Mrs. Ziemna’s father was sent to during the war] cured him from it. We used to get cooked meat, some diet things, and the entire family ate it because of Father.

When I was still living on Dietla Street, I used to go to a public school, probably on the same street. There were a lot of Jewish kids there, poor. I was a wealthier girl, and I didn’t like going to that school, because the teacher favored me. And it annoyed me. It was unfair towards the other children. Whenever something happened to some other child, she would treat him or her sharply, but would be gentle to me.

I remember one friend from that school, her name was Mania Schneider. I lived on 101 Dietla Street, she lived at number 105. Her family had a soda water company. Such huge men, athletic Jews, water producers. Next to our house there was the Dietla Park, which was destroyed later, because they ran a tram line there. We used to play in that park.

I went to that school for a year or two, and later Mother moved me to the St. Scholastyka School, where there were only a few Jewish girls in each class. The level of teaching was very high in that school, I really had to study there. I remember one friend from that school, her name was Ada Laksberger. She went to Israel after the war; she came to Poland once and visited me with her son. She wasn’t my close friend. Just a classmate. She’s dead now.

Later I went to the Queen Wanda public high school, which was located first on Franciszkanska Street, opposite a church, later on Oleandry. The level of teaching was very high there. And I had friends in that school. There were a few Jewish girls in the class; I remember two, Mia Karmel and Halina Klug. They both died during the war.

However, my close friends weren’t Jewish, they were Catholic. The closest one was Marysia Ziemlik, we always walked home after school together, we stood on the corner for a long time, couldn’t part. Marysia spent the entire war in her apartment in Cracow. She had a Jewish boyfriend, who she hid in her apartment, she was very much in love with him, but later [after the war] he left her and went to Israel.

When it comes to teachers in the high school, our homeroom teacher, Mrs. Kublinska, taught us Latin. She limped and was cross-eyed. And whenever she saw a girl with some boy, then that girl was finished. She [the teacher] would finish that girl with caustic remarks. Once I had the pleasure of meeting her when I walked with some boys and after that she taunted me a lot. I remember Mrs. Zborowska best; she was a French teacher, who taught us really well. During her class we could only speak French; we started with a prayer in French, which I still remember. I use this language until this day. I have a daughter in France, and my granddaughter doesn’t speak Polish, so I speak French with her.

The principal was a person of Jewish origin, her name was Bergun. She was a very strict person. We had to wear uniforms; there were different uniforms in summer, and different ones in winter. She used to make us take our aprons off to see if we’re wearing uniforms underneath. And in the cloak room they used to check if we had regulation coats. When some girls wanted to wear suits, they were always in trouble. We weren’t allowed to.

We used to go to the Slowacki Theater, and once I had a regular skirt on, not pleated, under the apron. It was also navy blue, but not pleated. And in the theater one of the teachers told me, ‘You must go home because you don’t have the proper skirt on!’ However, I didn’t go home, but somehow got in through another entrance. Those were the times. It’s hard to believe it. When you see how today girls dress up and put makeup on…

I want to talk about other friends that played a rather important role in my life. In Zakopane, where my grandma had the villa Anastazja on Zamojskiego Street, not far from that place, there lived Mrs. Marta Katz, who was sick with tuberculosis, with her daughter. That girl’s name was Stella Katz and we used to play together. She always had beautiful toys, dolls from abroad. Her mother was a Romanian Jew, she married a man much older than her, an engineer who worked for the railroad and had a high position. It was a rarity for a Jew to work for the national railroad. Stella was my age.

Later, because her father depended on the institution he worked in, he was moved for a year or two to Vilnius. It was during the school year and Stella lived with us then, she went to the same school as I did, just a year below. I remember we understood each other really well, there was even some telepathy going on: often I would answer her a question she asked in her mind. That’s how close we were to each other.

I also want to say something about the Gliksberg and Lichtenbaum families from Warsaw, who used to come almost every year to ski. There were two boys. Jas Gliksberg was related to Grydzewski from ‘Wiadomosci Literackie’ 7, he was his nephew [Mieczyslaw Grydzewski, in fact Mieczyslaw Grycendler (1884-1970), a historian and columnist. He was a founder and editor of interwar literary magazines Skamander and Wiadomosci Literackie]. He sent me ‘Wiadomosci Literackie’ home for two years. Jas was a little younger than me, and Jerzy Gliksberg was his cousin. The wife of Mieczyslaw Fogg with their son Andrzej came with them once as well [in fact Mieczyslaw Fogiel (1901-1990), a well known singer]. The company in Zakopane was mixed, maybe with a majority of Jews, but Poles used to come, too. The Gliksbergs and Lichtenbaums all died.

I haven’t managed one important thing yet: I was often sick as a child. When we lived in the first apartment I went through all the childhood diseases, whooping cough, diphtheria, scarlet fever, chicken pox, measles, bronchitis and anginas. And I had a broken arm. There was a doctor, who used to treat me wonderfully; his wife was a cousin of my grandma Basia Zipper. Michal Leinkram, his name was, he lived on Sebastiana Street. They had two daughters. He was a general practitioner.

The only test I ever had done in childhood, was a urine test, and he did it himself. Until I turned 16, I never had any other tests done, there were no vaccinations then, so I had to go through all those diseases. He always gave a good diagnosis, always knew how to cure me.

When I was sick, my father used to come to me at night, because Mom was deaf. He would stroke me; sometimes he would sit with me all night. And then he would go to work. I was very attached to my father, perhaps more than to my mother. But during the day Mom took care of me.

I was abroad once. I was six or seven, I was sick with a kidney infection and the doctors said it would be good to go south and warm the kidneys in hot sand. And we went to Vienna first, a doctor there examined me and recommended to go to the island Grado, near Trieste. We went to Vienna, the three of us, my parents and I, and in Vienna we parted. Father went to Karlsbad, that is to Karlovy Vary 8, for therapy, because he had a gall bladder and liver problem, and he usually went alone. And Mom and I went to Grado.

We stayed at a Jewish boarding house there. It was called Zipfer, I remember that because we are called Zipper, and that boarding house was called Zipfer. It was a very expensive boarding house, and we were rather average guests, not the richest. Children had a separate diet, for example their meals weren’t made with olive oil, as they usually are in Italy, but with butter, and if they ate nicely, they would get a present. I ate nicely, but if I got a present, it was cheaper than the ones those richer kids got.  But it was heaven there: boats, special kayaks for children in the sea, special cars for children, baths, lying in the sand. And, indeed, I got cured for good. Six weeks. It was the only such trip in my childhood.

And in Vienna there was some family from Father’s side. I know their name was Reibner. My parents stayed at a hotel, and I slept at their place: they gave me dirty sheets, I remember. They had a horrible mess in their house, which was shocking to me, because our house was always tidy. But the lady of the house, who was a divorcee, had some friend, and she would put makeup on at such an untidy dresser, and would always leave the house looking very elegant. You couldn’t see a trace of that mess on her.

I know my grandfather used to send money there, because they were a poor family. He was still helping them even at the beginning of the war. They most likely died as well, because there was no news from them after the war.

When I came out of those diseases, I practiced a lot of sports. In winter I used to do gymnastics, I skated, skied, cycled, swam. I also took eurhythmics for some time. I was an average student, didn’t like to study much, but read one book a day on average. My entire education somehow formed then.

I also wanted to say something about the animals in our home. We always had some canaries, fish, but, most importantly, we had a dog. The dog’s name was Jim, it was a wire-haired fox terrier, and it wasn’t a good dog, because he used to bite. He used to bite children, especially if a child ran, he would grab it at the leg. Before Father got third-party insurance, we had to pay for doctors, veterinarians, and so on. But other than that he was a dear dog.

My father used to play bridge or go pick up women. He liked women, probably had some affairs. I don’t know if in Cracow, or only when he left alone for vacations. All in all, Father would go to play bridge, Mother would go to a café, and I stayed with the servant and had supper with her. That’s how it usually was. But I wasn’t upset with my parents. I thought that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

We didn’t go anywhere, travel, I only used to go to Zakopane [to Grandma Rumeld], once or twice I went to the seaside [the Baltic Sea], to Orlowo. I used to spend time rather by myself. There were no trips together, no outings downtown to see something, no Sunday excursions. We had dinners at my grandparents’ on Sundays, and that killed the possibilities. I, for example, poorly know Cracow, because my parents never went with me anywhere, never showed me anything. We may have gone to a museum once. Once we went on a trip ‘into the unknown’ which turned out to be an excursion to Oswiecim [town ca. 50 km west of Cracow. During WWII the Auschwitz camp was located there].

I was rather passive and weak-willed, now that I think of it. I was like that for a very long time. I was very reliant; Jozia had to even fasten the collar to my apron. I never did anything myself, absolutely nothing, nothing. I used to get milk when I was still in bed, I didn’t gulp it down, but sipped slowly from a cup. I had a somehow prolonged childhood. I matured late, just before the war.

Everything changed all of a sudden, because when the war broke out, Father left, as he was drafted into the army. We found out about the death of Grandma in Warsaw, my Mom was wailing for several days and unresponsive; here they were kicking us out of the apartment, and all of a sudden I became the one to decide about everything. From a completely spoiled only child, I matured all of a sudden, you can say, in a few days. Suddenly, I had to do everything, decide about everything.

I had a boyfriend before the war. But I only went out with him. We didn’t even kiss. It was more of a friendship... My future husband was his cousin. The other one’s name was Jurek Minder; he was the son of that best dressmaker in Cracow, Zosia Minder. His father was an attorney, but he didn’t have a big practice, they were mainly supported by Zosia. Her father-in-law was also a tailor and they had a large men-women workshop together on Karmelicka Street.

Jurek was raised like an aristocrat, they were very rich. They had a butler, so for example he used to send me letters through the butler. He went to the Sobieski Gymnasium, I went to the Queen Wanda Gymnasium, we had dancing lessons together. But I couldn’t dance with him because he was tall, and I was very short. The teacher used to pair us up according to height, so when we danced together once, they quickly separated us.

I was friends with a few more boys from his class. Until today I keep in touch with Felek Blondell [formerly Blonder] who lives in Melbourne, Australia. Jurek taught me how to ride a bicycle, and when he came to Zakopane, we skied together. He also was with us on holidays in Orlowo. Later he found himself another girl who he had a serious relationship with.

With school we used to go to YMCA [Young Men’s Christian Association], I learned to swim there. I had no contact with any youth organization. I belonged to the scouts for two days, I think. I went to an assembly once and didn’t like it at all. I never went to any camp, because my parents were afraid to send me.

Our school had a summer resort in Harbutowice near Lanckorona [a town about 25 km south of Cracow], where each class used to spend three weeks during the school year, usually in spring. Those were the only trips I was allowed to go on without my parents, without Mom. And once I went to Bukowina [Bukowina Tatrzanska, a town about 100 km south of Cracow], for a ski instructor course. That was the second last winter before the war.

The last winter before the war I was sick, I had pleuritis. I stopped school then and spent a whole year in Zakopane. When I felt better, I started skiing again. Then there was summer. The last summer before the war. I remember, a young man came there, and I liked him a lot. He was from Drohobycz, he came with his parents and a younger brother. He was a Polytechnics student already. Marian Horniker. He courted me, but we used to go everywhere the four of us: me and my friends, Irka Trepper and another Irka, and him. For example to Warta to dance. I was a very good dancer because as a child I always danced with all guests in the boarding house. Marian complimented me. I remember, it was the first time I felt something towards a boy, but I never saw him again in my life. I don’t know if he survived the war or not. I have no idea. I never had the courage to look for him.

At school they drilled us into worshipping Pilsudski 9, and it was the same at home. When Pilsudski died , I remember that Father took us to the bank with him. My father’s bank was on the corner of the market and Szczepanska Street. There were tall windows on the first floor and chairs put right next to them, and we sat there and watched the passage of the funeral procession. [The funeral of Pilsudski on 18th May 1935 became a large funeral procession. The body was put to rest in the Wawel Castle in Cracow, where Polish kings and national heroes are buried]. And at school there were six weeks of mourning, everyone wore black bands.

That’s what I remember when it comes to politics. Father was in the Polish army, fought against the Bolsheviks 10, so my parents felt Polish. I also feel like a Pole of Jewish origin. Because my life took place between Cracow and Zakopane, as a child I was certain that Poles lived in Cracow and Jews lived in Zakopane. I thought that for a long time. I couldn’t really see the difference. I wasn’t raised in any religion. When I was a small child I used to say some poem to God, I remember. Some neutral prayer. I grew up to be agnostic.

At school [high school] that’s what it looked like: there was religion, I always had to deal with the priest who always asked why I wasn’t attending religion lessons. During lessons of Catholic religion we used to leave the classroom. We always played in the hallway with Mia Karmel. And Rabbi Szmelkes used to come, who never managed to teach us anything. He would teach us Hebrew letters, the history of Jews. When he wanted to test a student, he would call her up, and hug and hold her. But we didn’t realize what it was back then, naturally. And that’s the way it was, because everyone had to have a grade on the report.

I also remember one scene from school when they were asking every student what her father did, during the homeroom period. And then Mia Karmel said her father was unemployed. I remember that the entire class laughed, me too. Because it was very funny, for a Jew to be unemployed. Because a Jew traded… But no, before the war I never encountered anti-Semitism.

When it comes to Yiddish, I don’t know if anyone from my family knew it. Maybe that Grandpa from Zakopane. Probably yes, because he didn’t speak very fluent Polish. Whether Grandma knew it, I can’t say. But she didn’t use it. And my parents didn’t know it, but they knew German, because back then this was Galicia 11, and they taught German in schools. And when they didn’t want me to understand, they spoke in German. But later I could understand a little.

A year before the war Hitler kicked out those Jews from Germany who had Polish citizenship 12. They came to Poland, some people took them into their apartments, others helped in different ways, materially. My parents didn’t feel like taking anyone to our apartment, but they paid a certain amount of money for them. A few of those German Jews ate at my grandma’s in the boarding house, for free of course. Were my parents aware of the fact that the war was coming? Probably yes, but insufficiently, because if they had been sufficiently aware of it, we could have afforded to leave the country. So they didn’t really realize what staying in the country meant. But we could feel the war coming. From the moment those Jews were kicked out, there was this certain atmosphere. Some people read ‘Mein Kampf,’ and they knew more or less …

There was one family that used to come to Zakopane. Their name was Igler, he was a rich oilman from Jaslo [a town in southern Poland, about 150 km south-east of Cracow]. His wife used to come to us with their son and daughter, the daughter’s name was Malwina, I remember playing with her, and the son’s name was probably Henryk. They were very rich and left the country on their own plane at the beginning of the war. I think later they lived in the States. That’s all I know.

Just before the war I spent two weeks in Nowy Sacz [a city in southern Poland, about 80 km southeast of Cracow] at Irka Tepper’s. Her father was the manager of a brickyard in Biegonice near Nowy Sacz; the owners of the brickyard were his parents-in-law. Just before the war Father came and took me to Zakopane. Recruits were already on trains, there was some drinking, some upsets already, he didn’t want me to travel by myself, so he came to pick me up.

The entire family got together in Zakopane, my uncles, my parents. And they deliberated on what to do. They packed trunks with bedding, dishes, some things from the boarding house. They sent it in trunks to Cracow, but everything got lost on the way. And they decided not to leave their parents in Zakopane, because Zakopane was near the border. They took Grandma to Warsaw, and Grandpa to Cracow. During that time the other Grandpa, Grandpa Zipper, lived with us, because in June, before the war, Grandma [Zipper] died and their apartment was liquidated. I lost my bedroom, both my grandparents lived there.

A day or two before the war my father headed east, because he was a reserve officer and was drafted into the army 13. When the war broke out, bombings began, we were running down to the basement etc. I remember a few days like that.

I also have to tell you about the dream I had at the beginning of the war. I had a dream that I’m lying down on a white bed with a net, clean, soft, I’m in the middle, and around me in the room, in the apartment on Dietla Street, orthodox Jews are packing some parcels, paper, boxes, ropes, some great commotion around me, and my bed like an oasis. And it was a prophetic dream, that I would survive the war.

On the third or fourth day of the war Mom and I left. There were no trains then yet. We met with Mrs. Mamber, my mom’s friend from school who used to write for IKC. She was a baptized Jew [i.e., she changed her faith]. She was with her son, daughter and husband, and we got a cart and a horse together. The daughter of Dr. Leinkram, Maryla, also came with us. She was very close to my mom; she was three years younger than me. First we walked to Wieliczka [town about 30 km east from Cracow], we spent the night there, and later began escaping east on that cart. And it was a great adventure, with shooting, running away, jumping out. Mrs. Mamber was very fat and when she had to jump off during the bombing, she would jump off that cart very quickly, but when she was to get back on it again, we had to lift her up. We slept in barns on the way. The further east we got, the poorer the country was getting. Near Cracow, for example washrooms were normal, had four walls, and the further we got, the fewer walls they had, and in the end we had to go to a cowshed where animals lived.

We were heading towards Rawa Ruska [a town about 250 km east of Cracow, today in Ukraine]. I remember one place to sleep in a poor shack, where they made Russian dumplings. They only had flour, water and potatoes, they didn’t even have salt. I remember those shacks, where there were horrible flies, we had to fan ourselves with branches, as we couldn’t stand it otherwise. Mrs. Mamber’s little dog also came with us, he was white and well taken care of at first, but later was covered with leaves because he got dirty in those barns.

I remember it as an adventure, although it wasn’t fun on the way, they would shoot very often, we kept seeing corpses, horse corpses, it was war. Then we got to the town Belz, the one from the song. [Editor’s note: ‘Mayn Shtetele Belz/My little own Belz,’, lyrics by Agnieszka Osiecka; a town about 250 km east of Cracow, today in Ukraine]. It was absolutely incredible for me, complete exotics. A market consisting of houses 1.5 meters wide, where there was only a store, a hallway and one room. In windows girls with long black hair in disarray. They were selling garlic cakes on the market, there was a tzaddik’s house on another street… And we learned there that the Russian army had entered Poland 14, so we turned back. The Mambers’ son kept going east. I have no idea if they survived.

So we returned to Cracow. Both my grandfathers and the servant had stayed in the Cracow apartment. I decided then I would never leave my grandfathers again. Despite the fact that Mom and I got an invitation from Uncle Harry from America, so we could have left through Switzerland. But I decided I wouldn’t leave my grandfathers. And I never regretted it because they fortunately died natural deaths.

I took a medical course then. It was organized by doctors from the Jewish hospital in Kazimierz 15. There’s still a hospital there in the same place today. It’s not called ‘Jewish hospital’ anymore, naturally. [The pre-war Jewish Hospital on Skawinska Street, today the hospital of the Collegium Medicum of Jagiellonian University]. I remember the doctor told us nobody got sick from being cold, that it’s germs. Then we had practice in the hospital, they told us to wash some men beaten up by Germans. I went together with a friend, two of us, because we were afraid. I didn’t know what a naked man looked like, and we were ashamed. It was an old, dirty Jew that we washed. The course lasted two or three months. You simply had to have some qualifications. Anything.

Later our district was turned into a German district and we had to get ready to move. The Germans kept coming to the apartment and taking things away. We started moving things from the apartment to our non-Jewish friends, a Persian carpet, some paintings, but we didn’t manage to take a lot. One day they [the Germans] came and ordered us to leave. We lived at the Leinkrams’ for some time, they had a big apartment. We got parceled out there, the four of us, into various walk-through rooms.

The situation was that their older daughter Irena had a fiancé, they studied medicine together. They also went east, both of them. They were arrested, he was suspected to be a spy. He was probably killed. She came back to Cracow disconsolate, she had always been a fat girl, but then she lost twenty-something kilograms. And the loss of her fiancé had such an effect on her that she would become very angry at everything.

We ran the household together. There was a servant. There was also Irena’s dog, she used to ostentatiously give him the best pieces, when it was very difficult to get any food. Overall she was acting very provocatively towards the entire family. I remember some quarrel when they cursed us along the lines that we wouldn’t survive the war. Well, but we survived and they didn’t. That’s what happened. We lived there for a few months. I was taking a dressmaking course then.

What was happening to the family in Warsaw then? Grandma Rumeld was already dead. When she died, Marta and Cesia, both daughters-in-law, were with her. Uncle Stefan Rumeld went east in September 1939 when they were calling men to leave Warsaw, and Karol Rumeld was drafted into the army, was in captivity, but managed to escape. Marta went to him to Lwow. In the meantime I was in Warsaw at my aunt Cesia’s [Uncle Stefan Rumeld’s wife]. I went there to see whether we should move to Warsaw with the family.

I took some things with me, I remember that my favorite bicycle got lost in transport… but I didn’t decide, fortunately, to bring the family along. I went there in 1940, before the closing of the ghetto, but they were already building the walls. There were armbands 16. After the German-Russian war broke out 17 Uncle Stefan returned to his wife Cesia to the Warsaw ghetto. Karol and Marta also returned to Warsaw. They had some papers 18 and didn’t live in the ghetto, but outside.

At Cesia’s I lived with her parents on Elektoralna Street. They didn’t have any jobs then. Her mother sat all day and would copy books. She was a woman who never worked, very rich, apparently she was looking for some kind of activity. She would sit at a desk and practice calligraphy, copying books. I met with my friends then, those Glicksbergs, Jas and Jerzyk. They took me out of Warsaw one day, to their summer home in Skolimow.

I took my high school exams in Warsaw. Those were secret classes organized in the Mirlas high school where Cesia taught. But I didn’t go to those classes regularly, just studied a bit with my aunt and passed the exams. Why did I decide to go back to Cracow? I don’t know, maybe I was afraid of the ghetto? It’s hard for me now to describe my feelings from that time.

When I returned to Cracow, we found an apartment in our old area, on Falata Street, and we lived there for some time, but the Germans used to come there as well to take away whatever they could from the apartment. Later we lived together with some other Jewish family. Until we left Cracow.

There was a young man in that family, he used to make some springs for some device, and he hired me to do that. We worked at home, in the kitchen. I remember he proposed to me, he promised he would send us all to the countryside, but I didn’t like him and had no intention to marry him. When I finished the dressmaking course, I started working for Zosia Minder, or rather for her ‘girl’ [help] on Grodzka Street. All that was happening at the end of 1940.

In the meantime we lost all our sources of income. My grandfather, who had a shipping company and was a wealthy man, had a partner. The partner was wise enough to take all his money from the company’s account, but my grandpa left his share. Germans gave the business to a Treuhänder 19, the money was taken away and we were left with no means. Father wasn’t there. We started selling whatever we had.

When they started creating a ghetto in Cracow, you had to have money to rent an apartment there. And if you didn’t, you went to a place where they put a crowd of people in 20. We didn’t feel like doing that, so we decided to leave. There were such trains on ramps which went in unknown directions, not to concentration camps then yet. And we signed up, packed our things, and took a horse carriage to go to that ramp, and they put us on that train 21. We rode for two days and two nights, and we got to Miedzyrzec Podlaski [town about 150 km east of Warsaw] where they unloaded us in some lice-ridden synagogue. Typhus raged.

Miedzyrzec Podlaski was a town where the majority of the residents were Jews. Jews who lived there didn’t speak Polish. We were completely exotic to them; they hadn’t seen Jews like us before. They were almost hostile towards us. We left our grandfathers in the synagogue, and went to look for an apartment, but the Jews didn’t want to rent us one. Because we didn’t speak Yiddish. Even Poles there spoke Yiddish. In the end we rented an apartment from Poles, on Polna Street, almost a rural area. A large room which we divided with a wardrobe. My grandfathers were behind the wardrobe, we were in front of it. There were glass doors, a few steps and an exit to the outside. And next to us, two houses further, there was a pig slaughterhouse, a secret slaughterhouse, those animals were squealing all the time.

In Miedzyrzec there was a Schlager, as they used to call him, walking the streets, he was a German who knew Polish, Ukrainian, he used to go to some Jewish family in evenings and played the violin there. He even had a Jewish girlfriend. But he would get up in the morning, go out with his dog, and had to kill a Jew, always before breakfast, so that he would have a good appetite.

I slept with Mom in one bed, next to the door. One day I woke up, and there’s a dog’s mouth right next to the bed and there’s Schlager standing, and another German next to him. He liked pretty girls and I was pretty. I was wearing Mom’s wedding ring on my hand, I wore it to sell it. He asked, ‘Verheiratet?’, that is, if I was married. I asked, ‘Mom, what does it mean?’ And Mom didn’t hear. And he somehow got upset and they left, didn’t do anything to me. It was a miracle.

Grandfather Zipper, who was 80, worked until the war. But he got sick in Miedzyrzec, he had uremia. There was a doctor, but it wasn’t proper treatment, because there were no medications, no tests, and he died, rather quickly. A weird thing happened: he was lying there in agony, and the housekeeper, at whose house we were staying, came in to ask how Grandpa was doing. We were standing at that glass door, and all of a sudden the glass broke. It was November, freezing temperatures. And he died then, at that very moment. I don’t believe in miracles, but that’s how it was.

My father came to us from Lwow after the German-Russian war broke out [in June 1941]. It was a couple of days after the death of his father, in November. Because he had some money, he said, ‘We must move, we have to find a different place.’ That’s what saved us, because we were easily visible there, you entered the room directly from the street. We found a room with a kitchen at a local bailiff’s, the Wieliczkos’, a house in an annex, on Warszawska Street. We weren’t there for long, because the Germans took over the front houses and we had to give up our room and the kitchen to the tenants from the front. However, they didn’t kick us out, but gave us a small room in the attic.

There were the four of us then: I, my parents, and Grandpa Rumeld, also severely sick. He was dying very quietly, calmly, slowly; my mom took care of him herself. I worked in the garden of the Wieliczkos’, and thanks to that I had dinners there. A humpbacked man lived there, his name was Mr. Chojecki. Mr. Chojecki had an application office, but didn’t know German, and my father knew German very well, so he used to write those applications for him, and also made some money.

When my father came, he wouldn’t go out, he wouldn’t put the armband on, in fact, only my mom was going out then. Once she had an incident with that Schlager, because she bought bread in a bakery where Jews weren’t supposed to be buying, and his dogs attacked her, knocked her down, but he didn’t kill her. They couldn’t make a ghetto in Miedzyrzec, because the majority of the residents were Jewish, so they began raids after Jews. [Editor’s note: In 1940, a ghetto was created in Miedzyrzec.] They took people away on trains.

They didn’t like us, those Jews, but we did manage to make friends with some of them. My mom became friends with one family, whose name was Hausman or Hausner. I learned only one sentence in Yiddish. Because there were very many beggars there, whom we usually didn’t give anything to, because we had nothing. And the sentence was: ‘Hab gurnisht wus tzu geben’ – I’ve got nothing to give. And my mom went to the market and wanted to buy vegetables. That Jew told her she wouldn’t sell her anything if Mom didn’t speak Yiddish. Mom asked her what ‘a carrot’ was in Yiddish. ‘A markhevke’ [Translator’s note: ‘marchewka’ means ‘a carrot’ in Polish, the last letter was changed from ‘a’ to ‘e’ to make it sound ‘more Yiddish.’] There were funny stories like that.

I had a few friends among Jews who spoke Polish. There was Chajcia [diminutive for Chaje] Wiernicka, very beautiful, but she had a scar on the cheek, once a monkey at a zoo scratched her. They had a photo shop. Chajcia had tendencies towards the Germans. The Germans took over that shop, and she lived with one of them. There was also Stenia [diminutive for Stefania], who had a Polish fiancé, and Ideska, but I don’t remember their last names.

Miedzyrzec was a town of bristle, there were a few brush factories. Germans took those factories over, but the manager was a Jew, the former owner. They kept him in this position as a specialist. And my Jewish friends got a job there. Who was hired depended on that Jew, and my mom went to ask him to hire me as well. But she behaved somehow inappropriately, didn’t know when it was Saturday or something. He didn’t hire me and this saved my life. Because my friends, who were making very good money in that factory, were all taken to Majdanek 22 one day. Chajcia Wiernicka had a relationship with a German, a German prisoner there in the camp. Chajcia died in Majdanek.

And there was a huge raid, they went through literally all houses [searching for Jews hiding from the deportations]. We had that one room, and next to it there was a passageway to the attic. We went to hide there, only had a bucket for excrements, and sat there all day, nobody betrayed us. A religious family of a Jewish shoemaker lived in our house, they were all taken away, they had a few kids. Our housekeepers took their things. But no one gave us away, a hunchbacked servant took that bucket to empty it, brought us some water to drink. And we survived that first raid.

In that house, apart from the house owners, there lived two boys, Polish, who worked as drivers in the Todt organization 23. There was the housekeepers’ son, the housekeepers’ daughter, and there was a girl with the family who lived in that room with the kitchen we had lived in. A group of young people, we used to hang out together, we even danced. I was the only Jew in that group.

One day Father said we had to go to Warsaw in order to survive. He talked to those boys from the Todt organization, took a nice pre-war suitcase as a present and went to their manager, said he’s an army officer – he didn’t say he was a Jew – and had a Jewish wife… Todt trucks used to go to Warsaw. It was dangerous on trains. Father asked if they would allow his daughter to go to Warsaw. And that manager agreed. I had some papers that Father brought for me. There was an incorrect date of birth, because Father forgot when his daughter was born, he made me two years older. He didn’t change the last name… all in all, those weren’t good papers [i.e., they didn’t look credible and authentic].

I went to Warsaw with that and I had the address of Dr. Kanabus on Krasinskiego Street. Her husband was a surgeon and did surgeries on Jews’ foreskin during the war 24. They were friends with my uncle Karol. When I got off that truck and got on a tram, I had only one piece of luggage with me, and those were all my belongings. I went to the apartment, Dr. Kanabus wasn’t there, but her mother was, Dr. Budzielewicz. Later Marta [Uncle Karol’s wife] came for me. They put me up in an apartment on Suzina Street in Zoliborz [district of Warsaw, on the western bank of the Vistula River].

There were two sisters, communists, who had the same husband in turn. He divorced one of them, married the other, had a son with her, and they all lived together. Their last name was Imach. One of the sisters was Olga Imach; I don’t remember the first name of the other one. That husband wasn’t there then, he was in the east with his communist friends, and I spent a few days there.

Later they produced some documents for me, and moved me to Grochow [a district of Warsaw, on the eastern bank of the Vistula River], where I stayed at Mr. and Mrs. Skolimowski’s. He was also a communist, who was active in the AK 25. They had three children, three little daughters, and I helped his wife with the house chores, never leaving the house.

In the meantime my parents also came to Warsaw, even though Uncle Karol didn’t want that. They were also placed with the Imach sisters [Editor’s note: the Imach sisters knew that Jews lived with them]. My parents got papers in the name Zaremba, they didn’t learn the new data well when they got arrested, but those were good papers. My last name was then Zaczynska, Maria Zaczynska, and they were Ludwik and Anna Zaremba. Those were good papers because they were confirmed by the village administrator of the commune of Czestocice, who, in case someone would ask about them, would confirm their authenticity.

So we all ended up in Warsaw in 1942, in the fall. But I saw my parents only after the war. When they were placed on Suzina Street, I was already in Grochow. Wide arrests were carried out in Zoliborz. Those Imach sisters were so stupid that when they sent a package to some partisans, they wrote who the sender was. That parcel was found on some partisan and they [the Germans] already had them. The Germans came to their apartment. It was the ground floor, my parents jumped out of the window, but the house was surrounded and that didn’t help. They were arrested. One of the sisters wasn’t at home then and that’s how she survived. Only Olga and my parents were arrested.

They took them to Pawiak 26. Olga Imach was so stupid that she told everyone in their cell that my mother was Jewish. But in the cell there were only very cultured ladies, most belonged to the conspiracy [Polish Underground], and they hushed Olga up. And they didn’t let her talk about it anymore. My parents were never interrogated, because they were arrested by accident, in a way,  in that apartment, as the main suspect was Olga Imach. But they didn’t let them go. Maybe, if we had had money, we could have bought them out, but there was no money, besides it turned out it was better that they remained in a camp [they were moved from Pawiak to the camp in Majdanek, as Poles], and we don’t know if they would have survived in Warsaw.

In Majdanek my mom worked at the food distribution for Jews, she saw horrible things there. And Father came down with the spotted typhus. And there was, for example, prince Radziwill [a member of a well known Polish aristocratic family] with Father, who used to get great parcels and shared them with prisoners. Besides Father knew German and was a so-called Schreiber [German for writer] on the block, thanks to that he managed somehow. My mom also knew German, but because she was almost deaf, she couldn’t deal with such things. She survived by being very inconspicuous.

Later Father was moved to Gross-Rosen 27, and then from Gross-Rosen they rushed them on foot to Bergen-Belsen 28, where there were burning pyres of corpses. My Father witnessed the following incident there: some Russian cut off a piece of human meat and started eating it. The Germans saw it and threw him onto that pyre, he was burned alive. And my father worked there [volunteered] on removing corpses, because he used to get an additional piece of bread for it. Those corpses usually had no ears, the ears were eaten by neighbors lying in the hospital, because they were the easiest to cut off. Father was gravely sick in Bergen-Belsen, they all had dysentery, because after the war the Americans gave them canned food, people rushed at it, and they began to get very sick, and die.

My mother was moved to a branch of Ravensbrück 29, Genthin 30, it was called a labor camp, but of course it was a concentration camp. She worked there in a weapons factory, but had a very good manager. Once they even took mom there in the camp to a dentist and put a filling in her tooth. The German dentists admired how nicely she had a bridge done by a Jewish dentist from Cracow.

And me? Well, first I was at Mr. and Mrs. Skolimowski’s. I was there when I found out about the arrest of my parents, Helena Plotnicka told me about it. She was a communist activist, who was friends with my uncle [Karol]. A wonderful woman, who took care of me, protected me during the occupation. She put me up in several places. Later I lived in Czerniakow [a district of Warsaw]. My last name was still Zaczynska, later I changed it several times.

I joined the AL 31, because I simply had such a contact. Plotnicka was that contact. I belonged to an AL group in Wola [a district of Warsaw], on 53 Wolska Street. We had meetings there, learned to use weapons, got leaflets to distribute and so on. And they taught us about the ideology of the AL. I was excited about it then, because I was unaware.

I lived in Czerniakow and met my boyfriend there, Tadeusz. It was very funny, because when he saw me, he started singing the following song: ‘I know nothing about you, where the wind brought you from, I don’t know your virtues, I don’t know your faults, I know only one thing, and I want to know one thing, what you did with my heart.’ Our affection began. He was in the AK, I was in the AL, when I was posting up leaflets on houses, he would come with me to protect me; later he helped me move to another house.

I had a couple of pictures on me, and on one picture, from my school friend Marysia Zemlik, there was written: ‘To dear Zipperek – Marysia’ [‘Zipperek’ - diminutive of the maiden name of Mrs. Maria Ziemna: Zipper]. The housekeeper of the house I lived in apparently went through my things when I was away and saw the picture, and told Tadeusz. He repeated it to me, I confessed who I was, and cut that caption off [the picture].

He came from a simple family, his parents were illiterate. He finished the Wawelberg high school and worked as a driver before the war. He was a couple years older than me. During the occupation he was taken to Krolewiec [Koenigsberg, ca. 300 km north of Warsaw, today Kaliningrad, Russia]. He was a huge strong man, and he came back from Krolewiec hooked up under a train car in very cold weather, minus40 degrees Celsius.

In 1943, during the uprising in the ghetto 32, I was still with Tadeusz. I remember one incident: we went to the Vistula River, and there was an exit of a canal from the ghetto. There were lots of Hebrew or Yiddish magazines, and a military policeman stood there, waiting for someone to come out 33. Tadeusz wasn’t bothered by my origin, and I was even nasty, I blackmailed him. When I had a fight with him, I told him I would go up to a German and tell him who I was.

Later I moved to an apartment on Radna Street, where I rented a walk-through room. For some time I worked for a dressmaker on Szara Street. Everybody in that family was dark-haired, very similar to Jews. That dressmaker sewed a lot for the Germans, a German woman would bring her fabric to make two blouses, she’d make two, and a third one for herself. And once a cousin came to that dressmaker, a black-haired boy with black eyes and said to me, ‘You look like a Jewish woman.’ That was a death sentence then, but I asked, ‘Like a pretty one?’ And that was that.

Later I got a job on the corner of Zytnia and Mlynarska, making clogs. The clog factory was organizationally connected to the AL on Wolska Street. I was earning very well there, but didn’t work there long. I’ll tell you why. There, on Wolska Street, the owner of the apartment had a daughter, Halina, who belonged to the organization [AL]. 1st of July is my birthday, but also the name-day of Halina. Halina decided to organize a party for our group, but I wasn’t invited. At night, during the party, they got arrested. They found weapons, they found leaflets. No one out of that group returned. They were taken to Auschwitz, maybe some of them were killed immediately.

In any case, Halina had my address written down. I lived on Radna then. I didn’t have a Kennkarte 34 yet, I had only started applying for it. The owner at work wanted to get rid of me, so he took advantage of the situation. At home the housekeeper said that an agent was looking for me. Fredek came with a friend, moved me to Marta and Karol’s. Fredek was a Jew, a young man from Sambor [today Ukraine], who came from there with Karol after the Germans took over the town. He later died in a partisan unit.

Marta and Karol lived on Kozminska Street then, in a German house, they had a large room and a kitchen in the attic. Marta worked in a German kitchen on the corner of Gornoslaska and Rozbrat streets, where there was a school for German children and a kitchen for German teachers. Uncle [Karol] was with her, because he was also hiding. Another Jewish woman lived with them, Tekla Turczak. She had Ukrainian papers. I don’t remember what her real name was. She came to Warsaw from a village near Lwow.

For some time I wasn’t allowed to leave the house. And I never saw Tadeusz again. They never allowed Tadeusz to come to me, and I didn’t know how to fight for it, I was too passive. I also didn’t want to endanger them. He died before the Warsaw uprising 35. One day Tekla saw his name on a list of people to be executed.

Then the Warsaw uprising began. Before the uprising the school principal handed us the key to her apartment on Gornoslaska Street, so that we would look after it. And she left, just like all the German civilians. There were food reserves in the kitchen we worked in. We gave it to our boys – Marta also belonged to the AL then. Marta was summoned to the Old Town and I stayed with Tekla. Several months before the uprising Plotnicka sent Uncle Karol east, near Chelm, to her brother’s property. Because my uncle had gotten caught once on a street, by a szmalcownik 36.

During the first days of the uprising, cows were hitting. [Editor’s note: high-explosive shells which made sounds resembling the ‘mooing’ of a cow, and were, therefore, called ‘cows.’] A cow hit our attic and flew out the window. The attic caught fire, and I picked up a sack with sand, [so heavy] that I normally wouldn’t be able to lift it, and carried it upstairs to the attic, and we put the fire out together, because that cow only went through and flew farther. I could tell you about thousands of incidents like that from the entire war period, when I was close to death, but apparently I wasn’t meant to die.

Later Tekla was taken away by the Germans. She was in some house on Gornoslaska, which the Germans had just seized. They took her somewhere to Lower Silesia, I don’t remember what that camp was called. [Tekla survived the camp on Aryan papers, as a Ukrainian.]

One day partisans from Radoslaw [AK group ‘Radoslaw’] came to my apartment. There was a Jewish woman with them, saved from the ghetto, from that factory 37. She was probably in close relations with the commander of that unit. He asked me to give her some clothes. I told them to take whatever they wanted, those were Marta’s things and I wasn’t allowed to dispose of them.

I met another girl that lived in the same house as me then, on Kozminska Street, she was a servant at some German’s. Also a Jew who was in hiding. She gave me the address of her family in Lublin, said that maybe we’d meet there after the war. But I don’t remember her first or last name. I wanted to get over to the other side of the Vistula, because I knew that if I got to a German camp, I wouldn’t survive for certain.

I ran towards the Vistula. On the way there, in some ruined house, I met a member of the AK, who had a bullet in his head. There was no blood, the bullet was stuck in the head, he said he couldn’t see anything, he had gone blind from it. I had a first-aid kit, but I was afraid to take out that bullet, I only dressed the wound. I had to leave him, and kept on going, to the Vistula.

I was waiting near the Vistula for about two days; it was the end of September. I knew I wouldn’t get on any boat, because I didn’t have money. I decided to swim across. It was the 20th or 21st of September, low level of water, 52 cm – I checked it in a calendar of the Warsaw Uprising, in 2005 – in the middle of the river there was a ford, so that you could walk a little. But that wouldn’t help the situation, because the river was lit with flares and shot at with machine guns, so you had to hide your head under the water.

I undressed down to my underwear, beside me there was a member of the AK who was also undressing; we were to swim together. I had some oil with me then, we put it on, because the water was cold. We started swimming in the evening. I tied a scarf on my head with pictures and the Kennkarte. I didn’t even take the money I had in my purse, because I thought it wouldn’t be valid over there. I had a really beautiful necklace that I could have put on my neck, but I also didn’t take it. That man swam poorly, I helped him a little, pushed him there, and somehow he swam. When we got to the other side, we ran across a patrol boat and they told us, ‘Get on, get on’. It was dark already 38.

The led us to a villa in Saska Kepa [district of Warsaw on the eastern side of the Vistula River], where the command was. The commander was a Russian, he had a Polish last name and that’s why he was placed in the Polish army, the way it was then. Two more men from the AK swam over and they were naïve enough to admit they were from the AK. They immediately took them to a different unit, I don’t know if they deported them or not.

I was aware of the situation and told them I was a private person, a Jew who wanted to save herself. They left me, put me in a basement, and tried to make a pass at me there, but fortunately not aggressively. They gave me vodka to drink. I was wearing only a bra, a shirt, underwear, and a scarf on my head. On the next day they brought me a suitcase with things, so that I could pick something. I got dressed in some smart suit, and I also found some shoes. They also gave me some useless stuff, a pillowcase or something, and they let me go free.

So, off I went. I found an army hospital. I had my false Kennkarte on me. A doctor came, I asked if he could hire me as a nurse. ‘What’s your name?’ I said, ‘I can show you my Kennkarte, my name is such and such, but it’s a false Kennkarte, because I’m a Jew.’ ‘Oh, we don’t need Jews here.’ And from then on I knew I couldn’t confess my origin. That’s why I was hiding for many years, only recently I opened up.

Then I got on some truck and they took me to Anin [during the war a town near Warsaw on the east bank of the Vistula, today within the city limits]. In Anin there was also an army hospital, there were Polish, Ukrainian, Jewish women, a mixed group, sisters nurses, who took care of me. I had a fever, I had a cold. They took me to a bath where I washed myself for the first time since the uprising. When I got better, they gave me a permit and put me on a truck that went to Lublin 39.

In Lublin I went to the address I had gotten from that girl during the uprising. She never made it to Lublin, probably died during the uprising, but they accepted me. Later I went to the Fighting Youth Union 40, they directed me to work at the Milicja [Polish post-war police] Main Headquarters. I was housed with two sisters, the Telatycka sisters, Poles, who worked there as well. We had a cold room, they had a bed and sheets they brought from a village, I only had a greatcoat, one pair of underwear. Winter came. They infected me with scabies, because they used to go to various shady pubs to meet with soldiers. To cure scabies, when you have no hot water, no bedding, no change of underwear, that’s torture. In the Milicja I worked in the personnel department, I was a clerk.

Together with the Main Headquarters I moved to Warsaw in March 1945. I was assigned an apartment on Jaworzynska Street. After some time Tekla showed up. I took her in and recommended her to work in the headquarters. I had no news about my parents. Then I decided to go to an officers’ school in Lodz. When I was at school, my mother returned. She found me through friends from Zoliborz. One day I had a surprise: the Milicja brought my mother. She spent one night with me and then went back to my apartment on Jaworzynska Street.

I was in Lodz when the war ended; they were firing their guns out of joy and so on. There were celebrations and parties there because of the end of the school year, Tekla and a few people from the headquarters came over.

Tekla came from a very religious Jewish home, and couldn’t even imagine having a boyfriend other than a Jewish one. In Lodz she met an officer, a Jew, and they had a closer relationship which ended tragically for her. A very uncommon thing, during their first sexual encounter Tekla got a blood infection.

She was in hospital. I went to visit her every other day. But I wasn’t there till the end. That’s the huge mistake of my life, and my mother couldn’t help me. The last two days I didn’t go to see Tekla. I went to Zakopane, because in the meantime my mother got our villa in Zakopane back. Tekla’s funeral was organized by the headquarters, I will be regretting until the end of my life that I wasn’t with her till the last moments.

At some point my father came back. After the war ended Father left the Bergen-Belsen camp and went to the town of Helmstadt [in Germany]. He went to a Polish mission there, and as a lawyer, became a defendant of Poles in German courts. The bank he used to work in before the war had its head office first in Vienna, then in Paris. Father got in touch with the head office in Paris and received an offer of work in a branch in Belgium. He wanted to get us over there, but I told him I didn’t want to be a proletarian in a foreign country, I was that stupid. But I never wanted to leave Poland, and maybe I don’t regret it, I’m not suited for emigration… And Father returned to us.

I joined the Party during that time, but my adventure with the party didn’t last long, because I sobered up quickly 41. I left only in 1958, I couldn’t do it earlier. [Editor’s note: In the 1950s the political regime in Poland was particularly rigid.] When Father came back, I handed them my resignation and decided not to work for the Milicja anymore.

First I tried to get into a medical school, because I had dreamed about it all my life, but, fortunately, I didn’t get in, even though I passed the exams. Now I think it was a good thing, but back then I cried over it. I met an acquaintance who told me the pre-war Higher School of Journalism was being re-opened, they got their building on Rozbrat Street back, would have pre-war professors and accept students without exams. So I went to the school of journalism and began my practice at PAP [Polish Press Agency].

In 1948 I married Aleksander Ziemny 42, a cousin of Jurek Minder. I had known Aleksander in my childhood, he was a pre-war acquaintance. He worked then [in 1948] for ‘Przekroj’ [a weekly illustrated magazine which has been published from 1945 in Cracow, currently published in Warsaw], after our wedding he moved to Warsaw, where he worked in several editorial offices. I won’t talk more about it; it was a very unsuccessful marriage. I don’t have a single good memory from those ten years.

After finishing university I didn’t work for a while. In November 1948 my older daughter, Alina, was born, first we rented a room in a shared apartment on Zajaczka Street, later we got assigned a room with a kitchen on Dzielna Street. The second daughter, Malgorzata, was born in 1954. Before that, when I was still pregnant, we managed to get a larger apartment and moved to a house on Zjednoczenia Avenue.. This is where I have been living until this day.

After the divorce my husband first offered to give me 2,000 zlotys [a month], which at the beginning was quite a lot, but later was losing its value, but I never asked for more. It was hard financially, I often had to borrow money to make ends meet, but I tried not to borrow too much.

I worked in turn at ‘Dokumentacja Prasowa’ and ‘Przyjaciolka’ [a weekly women’s magazine]. From Przyjaciolka I switched to the Polish Chamber of Foreign Trade, where I dealt with xerographic publication and one day I learned that ‘Rynki Zagraniczne’ [a magazine published by the Chamber] needed a proof-reader. I went to the editor, there was a contest and I won.

In the Polish Chamber of Foreign Trade the work was such that you had to stamp a card, like in a factory, and after half a year I would get a letter from the human resources saying: ‘Citizen Ziemna was six minutes late over the period of six months.’ Later we would sit down and there would be nothing to do. The manager often told us to spread papers around so you couldn’t tell there was nothing to do. But when I started correcting ‘Rynki’ in the printing house of Kurier Polski, I felt good at work for the first time. Later I started working for Kurier Polski. I had two jobs at the same time. I also worked nightshifts in some other editorial offices, because I was already alone and had two children to raise. My parents, especially my mother, helped me to take care of the house and the children.

I also wanted to talk about my friend, Stella Katz. Stella is in Israel, if she’s still alive. She survived the war with her parents in Vilnius [today the capital of Lithuania]. They were an assimilated family, didn’t look particularly Jewish. After the war they went back to Cracow, her father’s sister survived there. When I had the first baby, Stella came to Warsaw for a few days, I saw her then. Her mother died of tuberculosis exactly when Stella was in Warsaw. Stella was infected with tuberculosis, she went to Lower Silesia [region in south-western Poland], to a Jewish therapeutic center, she met a Jewish boy there, from a simple Jewish family, whom she had a relationship with, and decided to go to Israel with him.

When she was leaving, we were living on Generala Zajaczka Street then, my Alinka [diminutive of Alina] was two years old, it was 1950. We walked Stella to the Gdansk Train Station and she wrote to us from Israel, and even sent my child oranges once. But Stella’s letters used to come to my mom’s address. Unfortunately, at the end of her life, my mom destroyed her [Stella’s] address and this is how I lost contact with Stella. I tried to find her through the association of Jews in Cracow, but somehow never managed to find her. I’ll never see her again… I simply don’t know how to find her.

In the meantime I was in the States visiting my American family. In 1961 I got an invitation and money for the trip. I sailed on the Batory [ship] to Montreal, and from there I took a plane to New York. In New York there was Cousin Stanley, my mom’s cousin, the son of Harry Herzman, my grandma’s brother. Together with Stanley I went to Mobile, where the last sister of my grandma [Antonina Rumeld,], Aunt Rozia [diminutive for Roza] lived. We arrived in Mobile a day after the death of her husband.

Aunt Rozia had had two husbands. Her older sister was in the States first. A brother of that older sister’s husband saw Rozia’s picture and asked to get her over to the States so that he could marry her. They brought her over as a young woman, she had that husband, she had two children with him. He died, she married again. The second husband adopted her children and she had four more children with him. I heard that second husband used to give her a rose every day – a rose for Roza [Translator’s note: Roza means ‘a rose’ in Polish]. She had several surgeries, she was sick very often, but she outlived him.

When I got there, I was very moved, because I saw some resemblance to my grandma. Rozia didn’t remember much, names of towns near Chocholow… She recalled Sucha Gora, where she served at a mansion. It was a very religious family, over there in Mobile they would bring very expensive kosher food from other cities. I remember that cousin George’s wife asked if my parents ate kosher food in Majdanek. So I told her that my father even ate a cat once.

Later I went to Los Angeles, to a daughter of my mom’s friend. I can’t call her a friend really, because only our mothers were friends. Her name is Maria, maiden name Dawidowicz. Marysia [diminutive of Maria] had a Polish Jew for a husband, they were very well off, had two children. I spent three weeks there, but I didn’t feel comfortable there. I went back to the country on a Polish ship. They were trying to talk me into staying, but I wouldn’t have been able to go to the States and support the entire family, as simple as that.

When it comes to my parents, my father didn’t want to go back to the job at the bank, because he kept saying that banks under communism aren’t real banks. He worked at the Headquarters of Foreign Trade, at the end in the Ministry of Internal Trade.

My parents lived in a room on Czarnieckiego Street, but one day they got an apartment on Lisowska Street, a room with a kitchen. Earlier Uncle Karol convinced Mother to sell the villa in Zakopane. She had rented it out, to an orphanage, and they kept destroying it and didn’t pay rent regularly. My uncle had a third wife, Hanna Panenko, maiden name Romer, and he wanted to have money for her. So they sold the villa.

So I’m reaching the end of my story. I worked hard at two jobs plus nightshifts, I was raising my children. My older daughter took up studies at the Warsaw Agricultural University, Faculty of Landscape Architecture. She passed the entrance exams with the highest marks, during the inauguration of the academic year she stood on a podium. My second daughter wasn’t as good of a student. My ex-husband used to come to her, he became a good father and used to help her with her studies. I never forbade him to contact his daughters; he comes to visit his daughter until this day.

In 1970 my father died. He worked until he was 75. At the end of his work he had an accident, he was run over by a motorcycle, had a concussion, and after that he was never the way he used to be, he changed. When he died, he had been retired for two years. I have to tell you about his death, because it was the worst event in my life, even though I lived through so much death around me. I lost the closest people, but his death was a huge, sad experience.

We were on that day, 8th of February, at my mother’s birthday. There was a dinner at my parents’ and at the end of the dinner Father wanted to have some vodka with me. I said I didn’t want any. Later I regretted it, because I thought that maybe if we had had some, then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten that heart attack… Such a sudden death, it was horrible. And in 1971, a year after her grandfather’s death, Alina went to France.

So my daughter Alina left thanks to $100 I got from the family in America. Alina knew French poorly. She was supposed to go only for a month, but she immediately found a job, first she packed some parcels for some Jew. She signed up for a language course at Alliance Francaise and at the end of the month she called to tell me she’s not coming back. She didn’t apply for refugee status because of us, because she didn’t want to make it impossible for us to go abroad. Later she worked for a family with two children. Then she fell in love with a German, who, when he found out she was Jewish, backed out.

Alina learned French very quickly and found out there was a job in her profession: a garden designer, in Metz. She met her future husband there. An architect, 16 years older, divorced, who had two children, a son and a daughter. During that time he bought a house in a village near Metz, an old, ruined, maybe two-hundred-year-old country house, which he slowly renovated. My daughter saw his garden, overgrown with nettles as tall as a person and started working on the garden because it was her passion. And she stayed there. They got married, and she gave birth to a daughter, Julia.

Alina is still there, until now. They renovated the house beautifully in the meantime. When she was about to have her baby, I went there and painted the kitchen, I still had strength. Now Alina’s husband is retired, and she has two rooms that she rents out. She takes care of the garden, makes preserves, attends to guests; she does all that by herself. After having the baby she never went back to her old job. She didn’t like working for someone, she works hard for herself.

My second daughter, Malgorzata, was severely sick. First she had tuberculosis. She was in a resort. She was 18 when she came down with Crohn’s disease. In the meantime she finished an optical school; she didn’t go to a university, because she was sick. She started working as an optician. Thanks to the fact that she already worked, she got a disability pension, which she still receives now. Later I got her involved in proofreading.

I retired at the time of the martial law in Poland 43. Before that I belonged to Solidarnosc 44. During martial law, when the editorial offices started operating again, I used to substitute for absent employees and started working on proofreading books. This entire row of books [Mrs. Ziemna points at bookshelves in her room] that’s the publisher Puls, my proofreading. [Editor’s note: Puls was initially an underground publishing house] We also worked for the publisher Muza. Later Malgosia [diminutive of Malgorzata] got a job as a proofreader, now she works in the Academy of Fine Arts, in the dean’s office.

My mother died in 1987, she was 91. Half a year before she died, she fell, and even though they claimed nothing was broken, she never got up again. Mother was very hard of hearing, after the war she got her first hearing aid from the United States, still crude and heavy. Later she had better hearing aids and she was very happy, she said she could hear the ticking of a clock for the first time in many years. But at the end of her life she couldn’t really use the aid. Her mental abilities deteriorated, contact with her was very poor. The last half a year she lay in bed like a vegetable, she had nurses who took care of her.

My parents got baptized [converted to Catholicism] after the war. Not me. I considered it falsehood to accept a religion if I’m never to believe, right? It would be dishonest. So I didn’t get baptized. But my parents were somewhat religious.

I baptized my children, so that they could take the first communion, so that they’re not different. They found out they were Jewish very late, when they were grown up. From me? I’m not sure, I think it was actually my ex-husband who told them. When Alina was at school, when she was ten or twelve, some boy from the neighborhood, from the same floor, told her she was Jewish. She repeated it to me, and I told her: ‘So tell him he’s a Jew.’

I have a lot of friends, acquaintances, who I don’t know whether they know that I’m a Jew. They don’t ask, I don’t volunteer the information, never. If somebody asks, I never lie, I always tell them who I am. But, if they don’t ask… Although, sometimes I’d like to talk about that.

Nowadays I don’t go to those meetings much [in Jewish organizations in Warsaw], because I don’t like them. I went a couple times to the Jewish Theater 45, once I went for a common meal to some cheder or something, but I didn’t like it because it was very messy. But I work as a volunteer as a social help in the Jewish community. There are some people who call someone [someone older, requiring care]. My daughter Malgosia goes there more often, I am less mobile when it comes to walking.

Because I still like to swim, Malgosia and I started going to warm seas. We were in Spain, Greece, Crete and Rhodes, on Corfu, Tunisia, Sicily, and so on… We also went to Israel. First we visited Jerusalem, Yad Vashem 46, and so on, then we went to Eilat and spent time at the seaside. The last day we took a taxi to go sightseeing in Tel Aviv.

On the ship, during the trip, we met some Jews from Tunisia and from Russia, who were trying to talk us into moving to Israel. But when it comes to me, I wouldn’t be able to live in Israel. Mainly because of the lack of greenery, it’s a desert, you have to know how to live in a desert. And I can’t imagine living there, among Jews only. I was never that attached to Judaism... I used to hide the fact that I’m Jewish for so many years… At the end of the occupation, in 1944, I had a dream that I was black. It’s winter, I’m dressing up warmly to cover as much as possible. Stockings, a hat, gloves on my black hand… But what should I do with the face?

Glossary:

1 The Radziwill family

one of the oldest and largest Polish-Lithuanian aristocratic family lines, coat of arms Trumpet. The origin of the Radziwill family dates back to the 15th century, its protoplast was Krystyn Oscik, a dignitary from the circles of the great Lithuanian prince, Witold. His son, Radziwill Oscikowicz was the great Lithuanian marshal. The Radziwills performed most important state functions in the federal, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, administrative as well as military: they were chancellors, voivodes, Lithuanian hetmans. From the beginning of the 17th century the family was divided into two lines: connected to Birze and Nieswiez. In the 19th century a part of the family settled in central and western Poland, still playing an important political role. In the inter-war years the Radziwills were leaders of conservative parties: Janusz in Poland, Konstanty in Lithuania. Representatives of the family are still alive today.

2 KuK (Kaiserlich und Königlich) army

The name 'Imperial and Royal' was used for the army of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, as well as for other state institutions of the Monarchy originated from the dual political system. Following the Compromise of 1867, which established the Dual Monarchy, Austrian emperor and Hungarian King Franz Joseph was the head of the state and also commander-in-chief of the army. Hence the name 'Imperial and Royal'.

3 Jagiellonian University

In Polish 'Uniwersytet Jagiellonski,' it is the university of Cracow, founded in 1364 by Casimir III of Poland and which has maintained high level learning ever since. In the 19th century the university was named Jagiellonian to commemorate the dynasty of Polish kings. (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jagellonian_University)

4 Italian front, 1915-1918

Also known as Isonzo front. Isonzo (Soca) is an alpine river today in Slovenia, which ran parallel with the pre-World War I Austro-Hungarian and Italian border. During World War I Italy was primarily interested in capturing the ethnic Italian parts of Austria-Hungary (Trieste, Fiume, Istria and some of the islands) as well as the Adriatic littoral. The Italian army tried to enter Austria-Hungary via the Isonzo River, but the Austro-Hungarian army was dug in alongside the river. After 18 months of continuous fighting without any territorial gain, the Austro-Hungarian army finally succeeded to enter Italian territory in October 1917.

5 Warsaw Ghetto

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

6 Ilustrowany Kurier Codzienny [Daily Illustrated Courier]

a daily informative-political newspaper published in Cracow in the years 1910-1939. The founder and chief editor throughout the entire existence of the newspaper was Marian Dabrowski. IKC politically represented the center, after 1926 – it was pro-government. Since the 1920s it was the most popular paper in Poland, with a circulation of 150,000copies. It appeared in the entire country, had 12 local branches in, among others, Warsaw, Poznan, Katowice, Vilnius. IKC had many regular supplements. The most famous was the Sunday supplement Kurier Literacko-Naukowy [Literary-Scientific Courier], which featured distinguished Polish writers of the 20 inter-war years, among others, Jerzy Andrzejewski, Jozef Czechowicz, Maria Pawlikowska-Jasnorzewska.

7 Wiadomosci Literackie [Literary News]

a weekly cultural-literary magazine published in Poland in the years 1924-1939. The founder and chief editor was Mieczyslaw Grydzewski. Almost all distinguished Polish writers of the 20 inter-war years published in it. It was an opinion-forming magazine, reaching many readers, shaping the literary tastes of a wide audience. Journalist campaigns, for example against censorship were carried out in its columns. Every year the magazine awarded its own literary award. It published 36 special issues about great Polish writers, such as Mickiewicz, Slowacki, Prus, Staff, Zeromski. Since 1930 Wiadomosci Literackie was also a social magazine: reportage and literary criticism sections were introduced. It had a democratic-liberal character. After the war broke out Grydzewski emigrated to London where he published a magazine under the title of Wiadomosci, referring to the tradition of Wiadomosci Literackie.

8 Karlovy Vary (German name

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

9 Pilsudski, Jozef (1867-1935)

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

10 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.

11 Galicia

Informal name for the lands of the former Polish Republic under Habsburg rule (1772-1918), derived from the official name bestowed on these lands by Austria: the Kingdom of Galicia and Lodomeria. From 1815 the lands west of the river San (including Krakow) began by common consent to be called Western Galicia, and the remaining part (including Lemberg), with its dominant Ukrainian population Eastern Galicia. Galicia was agricultural territory, an economically backward region. Its villages were poor and overcrowded (hence the term 'Galician misery'), which, given the low level of industrial development (on the whole processing of agricultural and crude-oil based products) prompted mass economic emigration from the 1890s; mainly to the Americas. After 1918 the name Eastern Malopolska for Eastern Galicia was popularized in Poland, but Ukrainians called it Western Ukraine.

12 Zbaszyn Camp

From October 1938 until the spring of 1939 there was a camp in Zbaszyn for Polish Jews resettled from the Third Reich. The German government, anticipating the act passed by the Polish Sejm (Parliament) depriving people who had been out of the country for more than 5 years of their citizenship, deported over 20,000 Polish Jews, some 6,000 of whom were sent to Zbaszyn. As the Polish border police did not want to let them into Poland, these people were trapped in the strip of no-man's land, without shelter, water or food. After a few days they were resettled to a temporary camp on the Polish side, where they spent several months. Jewish communities in Poland organized aid for the victims; families took in relatives, and Joint also provided assistance.

13 Umiastowski Order

Col. Roman Umiastowski was head of propaganda in the Corps of the Supreme Commander of the Polish Republic. Following the German aggression on Poland, and faced with the siege of Warsaw, on 6th September 1939 he appealed to all men able to wield a weapon to leave the capital and head east.

14 Annexation of Eastern Poland

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

15 Kazimierz

Now a district of Cracow lying south of the Main Market Square, it was initially a town in its own right, which received its charter in 1335. Kazimierz was named in honor of its founder, King Casimir the Great. In 1495 King Jan Olbracht issued the decision to transfer the Jews of Cracow to Kazimierz. From that time on a major part of Kazimierz became a center of Jewish life. Before 1939 more than 64,000 Jews lived in Cracow, which was some 25% of the city's total population. Only the culturally assimilated Jewish intelligentsia lived outside Kazimierz. Until the outbreak of World War II this quarter remained primarily a Jewish district, and was the base for the majority of the Jewish institutions, organizations and parties. The religious life of Cracow's Jews was also concentrated here; they prayed in large synagogues and a multitude of small private prayer houses. In 1941 the Jews of Cracow were removed from Kazimierz to the ghetto, created in the district of Podgorze, where some died and the remainders were transferred to the camps in Plaszow and Auschwitz. The majority of the pre-war monuments, synagogues and Jewish cemeteries in Kazimierz have been preserved to the present day, and a few Jewish institutions continue to operate.

16 Armbands

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

17 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.

18 Aryan papers

Jews hiding during the war by adopting a false Aryan identity had to produce documents confirming their new personal data. Such documents were mainly the 'Kennkarte,' that is, identity card, and also birth certificate, proof of address, an employment card, and so on. Having a birth certificate and proof of address was enough to apply for a 'Kennkarte': therefore many people tried to obtain only a Christian birth certificate, for example from priests. Aryan papers were produced by underground organizations including Aid Organization for Jews 'Zegota', which used the services of a 'legalizing cell' of the AK; altogether it produced 50,000 false documents for its charges. The papers could also be obtained for a large sum of money on the black markets from professional forgers and from employees of city halls. Sometimes Polish friends of Jews gave them their own documents.

19 Treuhänder

In November 1939 the Germans in the General Governorship created a Trust Office - Treuhandstelle. The trust, or receivership, order was applied to state enterprises, private firms important for defense and all companies, real estate and farms belonging to Jews and to 'enemies of the Reich.' The order implemented the taking over of property from those people and transferring them into the hands of a trust fiduciary (a 'Treuhänder'), who was to transfer the major part of their revenue to the Trust Office, that is the occupant authorities. The most valuable companies were, of course, given to the German management. There weren't enough willing Germans to handle the mass of Jewish houses and firms, so 'Treuhänder' were recruited among Poles. Relationships between a 'Treuhänder' and a former owner varied: especially in the case of enterprises a 'Treuhänder' often allowed the former owner to remain in the company as the manager. In many other cases a former owner was simply thrown out of his house or company.

20 Podgorze Ghetto

There were approximately 60,000 Jews living in Cracow in 1939; after the city was seized by the Germans, mass persecutions began. The Jews were ordered to leave the city in April; approx. 15,000 received permission to stay in the city. A ghetto was created in the Podgorze district on 21st March 1941. Approx. 8,000 people from suburban regions were resettled there in the fall. There were three hospitals, orphanages, old people's homes, several synagogues and one pharmacy run by a Pole operating in the ghetto. Illegal Jewish organizations began operating in 1940. An attack on German officers in the Cyganeria club took place on 22nd December 1942. Mass extermination began in 1942 - 14,000 inhabitants were deported to Belzec, many were murdered on the spot. The ghetto, diminished in size, was divided into two parts: A, for those who worked, and B, for those who did not work. The ghetto was liquidated in March 1943. The inhabitants of part A were deported to the camp in Plaszow and those of part B to Auschwitz. Approximately 3,000 Jews returned to Cracow after the war.

21 Evicting of Jews from Cracow in 1940

According to assumptions of the German occupation authorities, Cracow, as the capital city of the General Governorship, was to be emptied of Jewish inhabitants. In the summer of 1940 the Germans allowed only 11 thousand Jews to temporarily remain in the city, which meant displacing 40 thousand people. The displaced persons in general could move to all towns in the General Governship; however, Jewish communes in many towns refused to accept them. The reason was severe overcrowding in ghettos. In the end in Cracow 15 thousand Jews remained, who were locked in the ghetto in March 1941.

22 Majdanek concentration camp

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

23 Todt Organization

Named after its founder, Nazi minister for road construction Dr. Fritz Todt, this was an organization in Nazi Germany for large-scale construction work, especially the construction of strategic roads and defenses for the military. By 1944, it employed almost 1.4 million workers including thousands of concentration camp inmates and criminals.

24 Surgeries on Jews’ foreskins during the war

most men among Polish Jews were circumcised, which greatly reduced chances of survival of those who were hiding on the Aryan side. A few doctors undertook to do surgeries removing the effects of circumcision. In Warsaw the surgeries were performed by, among others, Dr. Feliks Kanabus and Dr. Andrzej Trojanowski. Patients were friends of the doctors, mainly from the medical circles. Not many such surgeries were carried out, probably just about 100.

25 Home Army (Armia Krajowa - AK)

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

26 Pawiak

Prison in Warsaw, which opened in 1829, between Dzielna and Pawia Streets (hence the name Pawiak). During the German occupation it was one of the main custodial prisons used by the German security forces in the General Governorship. Of the approximately 100,000 prisoners (80 percent men, 20 percent women), some 37,000 were murdered, and over 60,000 were sent to concentration camps and for forced labor to the Reich. Pawiak was demolished by the Germans in August 1944. At present there is the Pawiak Prison Museum on the site.

27 Gross-Rosen camp

The Gross-Rosen camp was set up in August 1940, as a branch of Sachsenhausen; the inmates were forced to work in the local granite quarry. The first transport arrived at Gross-Rosen on 2nd August 1940. The initial labor camp acquired the status of an independent concentration camp on 1 May 1941. Gross-Rosen was significantly developed in 1944, the character of the camp also changed; numerous branches (approx. 100) were created alongside the Gross-Rosen headquarters, mostly in the area of Lower Silesia, the Sudeten Mountains and Ziemia Lubuska. A total of approximately 125,000 inmates passed through Gross-Rosen (through the headquarters and the branches) including unregistered prisoners; some prisoners were brought to the camp only to be executed (e.g. 2,500 Soviet prisoners of war). Jews (citizens of different European countries), Poles and citizens of the former Soviet Union were among the most numerous ethnic groups in the camp. The death toll of Gross-Rosen is estimated at approximately 40,000.

28 Bergen-Belsen

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

29 Ravensbrück: Concentration camp for women near Fürstenberg, Germany. Five hundred prisoners transported there from Sachsenhausen began construction at the end of 1938. They built 14 barracks and service buildings, as well as a small camp for men, which was completed separated from the women's camp. The buildings were surrounded by tall walls and electrified barbed wire. The first deportees, some 900 German and Austrian women were transported there on 18th May 1939, soon followed by 400 Austrian Gypsy women. At the end of 1939, due to the new groups constantly arriving, the camp held nearly 3000 persons. With the expansion of the war, people from twenty countries were taken here. Persons incapable of working were transported on to Uckermark or Auschwitz, and sent to the gas chambers, others were murdered during 'medical' experiments. By the end of 1942, the camp reached 15,000 prisoners, by 1943, with the arrival of groups from the Soviet Union, it reached 42,000. During the working existence of the camp, altogether nearly 132,000 women and children were transported here, of these, 92,000 were murdered. In March of 1945, the SS decided to move the camp, so in April those capable of walking were deported on a death march. On 30th April 1945, those who survived the camp and death march, were liberated by the Soviet armies.

30 Genthin

a labor camp for women, located about 90 km from Berlin, a branch of Ravensbrück concentration camp. It was created in April 1939. About 1000 women from Poland, the Soviet Union, the Czech Republic, France and Yugoslavia were imprisoned there. The prisoners worked at the Silva Metalwerke, GmbH arms factory. The Germans managed to successfully hide it from the attacks of the allies. On 8th May the camp was liberated by the Soviet army. About 600 people were alive. 

31 People's Army (Armia Ludowa, AL)

Polish military organization with a left-wing political bent, founded on 1st January 1944 by renaming the People's Guard (set up in 1942). It was the armed wing of the PPR (Polish Workers' Party), and acted against the German forces and was pro-Soviet. At the beginning of 1944 it numbered 6,000-8,000 people and by July 1944 some 30,000. By comparison the partisan forces numbered 6,000 in July 1944. The People's Army directed the brunt of its efforts towards destroying German lines of communication, in particular behind the German-Soviet front. Divisions of the People's Army also participated in the Warsaw Uprising. In July 1944 the Polish Armed Forces (WP, Wojsko Polskie) were created from the People's Army and the Polish Army in the USSR.

32 Warsaw Ghetto Uprising (or April Uprising)

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

33 Leaving the Warsaw ghetto through canals

During the uprising in the Warsaw ghetto in 1943, two groups of soldiers of the Jewish Combat Organization went through the city canals out onto the Aryan side and were taken to the forest in Lomianki from there. The first group, acting during the uprising in the area of Toebbens and Schultz shops left on 29th April. The departure of the second group, on 10th May, was organized by Symcha Ratajzer ‘Kazik’ with the help of bribed workers of the city sewage system. In that group of about 40 people, there were, among others, Marek Edelman and Cywia Lubetkin. The Germans realized that Jews were leaving the ghetto that way and put wire entanglements in the canals, let in poisonous gases, locked gates. Small groups of civilians also used to leave through the canals, sometimes even several months after the liquidation of the Warsaw ghetto.

34 Kenkarta

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

35 Warsaw Uprising 1944

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

36 Szmalcownik

Polish slang word from the period of the German occupation (derived from the German word 'Schmalz', meaning lard), referring to a person blackmailing and denouncing Jews in hiding. Szmalcowniks operated in all larger cities, in particular following the liquidation of the ghettos, when Jews who had evaded deportation attempted to survive in hiding. In Warsaw they often formed organized groups that prowled around the ghetto exists. They picked out their victims by subtle signs (e.g. lowered, frightened eyes, timid behavior), eccentric clothing (e.g. the lack of the fur collar so widespread at the time, or wearing winter clothes in summer), way of speaking, etc. Victims so selected were threatened with denunciation to the Germans; blackmail could be an isolated event or be repeated until the victim's financial resources ran out. The Polish underground attempted to combat the szmalcowniks but in vain. To this day the crimes of the szmalcowniks are not entirely investigated and accounted for.

37 Gesiowka

Informal name of a prison in the Warsaw ghetto, located on 24 Gesia Street. It was created in the summer of 1941 in the building of a former military prison. It was subordinate to the Jewish Order Service. The director of the jail was Leopold Lindenfeld, and the director of the women’s unit – Sylwia Hurwicz. The jail could accommodate 200-300 people, but there were often two-three times as many prisoners. Among the prisoners there were mainly Jews who did not wear armbands, smugglers and others who had committed petty crimes. Executions of people convicted of being on the Aryan side took place twice in the prison. After the complete liquidation of the Warsaw ghetto, in July 1943, a concentration camp was created in the area of Gesiowka, a branch of the Majdanek camp. Its prisoners were to work on destroying buildings on the territory of the former ghetto, removing rubble, leveling the ground. Until the end of 1943 almost 3,700 prisoners from Auschwitz were brought in: Greek, French, German, Austrian, Belgian and Dutch Jews, and in 1944 a group of 3,000 Hungarian Jews, and a smaller group of Polish Jews. In July 1944 the evacuation of the prisoners began. 350 people stayed behind: they were to liquidate the camp buildings. Those prisoners were liberated on 5th August 1944 by the soldiers of the Warsaw Uprising.

38 Stopping of the east front in the summer of 1944

since the spring of 1944 a great offensive of the Red Army to the west was taking place, which resulted in the taking over of the terrains of eastern Poland: Lwow, Lublin, Vilnius. On 1st August 1944 an uprising of Poles directed against the withdrawing Germans broke out in Warsaw. It had a political role as well; the Polish underground wanted to free the capital of Poland from the German occupation with their own hands, and appear in front of the Soviet Army as a host. The Germans, however, still held a military advantage over the insurgents: Poles were suffering losses. At the beginning of September the Red Army took over Praga: a part of Warsaw located on the east side of the Vistula River. Stalin issued an order to stop the offensive action: he intended to wait for the Germans to defeat the insurgents. Despite pressure of the western allies, he didn’t help the insurgents, and also impeded help. On 2nd October the uprising capitulated. The Germans removed the inhabitants and razed the city to the ground. The Red Army stood on the right bank of the Vistula until January 1945.

39 Polish authorities in Lublin in 1944

On 22nd July 1944, in Lublin Chelm the Polish Committee for National Liberation (PKWN) announced the assuming of power in Poland. The Committee was founded two days earlier in Moscow, was an organ completely dependent on Stalin and dominated by communists. A manifest published by PKWN described a temporary system of power in Poland. The function of a Parliament was assumed by the National Council - also dominated by the communists' joint representation of left-wing organizations. PKWN was the only executive authority and could issue decrees with a power of laws. It began creating local administration, at first in the form of national councils, later bringing back the institutions of voivodes and prefects. PKWN also began organizing Milicja and local Offices of Public Safety (political police). It also commanded the People's Army, created by combining the Polish division of the Red Army and the underground army (communist People's Army and Polish units of Soviet partisanship). On 31st December 1944, the PKWN was converted into the Temporal Government and considered by the Soviet Union to be the only authority in Poland.

40 Fighting Youth Union (ZWM)

Communist youth organization founded in 1943. The ZWM was subordinate to the Polish Workers' Party (PPR). In 1943-44 it participated in battles against the Germans, and hit squads carried out diversion and retaliation campaigns, mainly in Warsaw, one of which was the attack on the Café Club in October 1943. In 1944 the ZWM was involved in the creation and defense of a system of authority organized by the PPR; the battle against the underground independence movement; the rebuilding of the economy from the ravages of war; and social and economic transformations. The ZWM also organized sports, cultural and educational clubs. The main ZWM paper was 'Walka Mlodych.' In July 1944 ZWM had a few hundred members, but by 1948 it counted some 250,000. Leading activists: H. Szapiro ('Hanka Sawicka'), J. Krasicki, Z. Jaworska and A. Kowalski. In July 1948 it merged with three other youth organizations to become the Polish Youth Union.

41 Polish United Workers’ Party (PZPR)

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

42 Aleksander Ziemny (born 1924)

Poet, essayist, translator. He was born into a Jewish family in Cracow. During the war he was in exile in the Soviet Union. He made his literary debut in 1940. He came back to Poland as a soldier of the Polish Army. Since 1946 he published poems and articles in such newspapers and magazines as Przekroj, Odrodzenie, Zycie Warszawy, Rzeczpospolita, Szpilki. He translated poetry from English, Russian, Jewish and Hebrew. He was the author of a known selection of translations of classic Hebrew poetry ‘Poeci Zlotej Ery’ (Poets of the Golden Era) and a collection of articles, ‘Resztki mniejszosci, czyli o Zydach polskich dzisiaj’ (Remains of a minority, or about Polish Jews today).

43 Martial law in Poland in 1981

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

44 Solidarity (NSZZ Solidarnosc)

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

45 Ester Rachel Kaminska Public Jewish Theater

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

46 Yad Vashem

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

Etta Ferdmann

Etta Ferdmann
Tallinn
Estonia
Interviewer: Ella Levitskaya
Date of Interview: March 2006

Etta Ferdmann is a petite lady. She has nicely done auburn hair and natural make-up. Etta is dressed to the fashion and with taste. She looks younger than her age. Etta is very amiable and kind. When we had just met, she was a little bit tense. She probably did not know what she was supposed to tell as if her inward censorship worked. Then she probably started to trust me and changed instantly beginning to tell her story in detail. Etta’s wording was very precise. It must be a professional feature - Etta has worked as a teacher all her life. She is a very kind and caring woman. Etta’s place is very cozy. Her apartment is well furnished and comfortable. She has a lot of books, pictures of her relatives and students. Etta is interesting to talk with. She is a book-worm and a globe-trotter. Having spent a couple of hours with her I understood why she is so loved by her students.

My family

In evacuation during the war

Back in Estonia

Attitude to judaism

Life under the communist regime

Attitude to Israel

Recent years

Glossary

My family

The families of my parents lived in the small town of Narva [about 200 km east of Tallinn] bordering on Russia. I only vaguely remember Narva of my childhood days, but I often asked my mother questions about it. It was a small, neat town, where people of different nationalities were living – Estonians, Russians, Jews. None of them felt different. Mother always used to emphasize there was no difference between the people of different nationalities during the Estonian independence 1. All of them knew each other and were very friendly.

My paternal grandfather’s name was Chaim Mendle Ferdmann. I do not know when and where he was born. Grandmother Yachna Ferdmann was born in Narva in 1877. The family was large. They had five children. The eldest, Benchi, was born in 1896. In 1901 their daughter Zelda was born and in 1902 their son Samuel followed. In 1904 their son Meishe was born. He was always called Mikhail. The youngest was my father Gessel. He was born in 1907.

I did not know Grandfather Chaim Mendle. He died in 1909, when my father was only two years old. Grandmother became a widow with five children. Probably she never got married again because of the children. Who would like to marry a widow with such a caboodle of children? Grandmother managed to raise the children by herself. She was a common, uneducated woman. While Grandmother was alive, she was a housewife. After her husband’s death, my grandmother found a job, started rolling cigarettes. Of course, she could not make a lot of money with such work, but still she managed to raise her children.

I do not think any of them finished secondary school. At that time education was expensive. All of them just went to a Jewish school. My father finished seven grades of a Jewish school, maybe even less. He read a lot, was interested in many things. He looked like a mundane, educated man. The family was very poor. When father was 17, he had an ulcer from malnutrition. He had a perforated ulcer and underwent a complex operation.

Everybody in Narva knew my grandmother and deeply respected her. She was a very religious woman. In spite of living from hand to mouth, she also found a way to help the poor. She said, no matter how bad your life was, there would always be somebody whose life was even worse. She found people like that and helped them the way she could. Of course, she observed all Jewish traditions and taught her children that. Sabbath was always marked at home as well as other Jewish holidays. Grandmother went to the synagogue and took the children with her. I cannot say that we were as pious as grandmother, but we were religious and followed traditions.

Only Yiddish was spoken at home. All the children knew Russian and Estonian. Grandmother spoke Yiddish, and she knew some phrases in Estonian to have a small talk with her neighbors. Grandmother was a very strict and autocratic woman, a true head of the family. Even when the kids grew up, they respected her a lot. He word was the law. There was only one case when somebody disobeyed Grandmother. I will tell you about it later.

Grandmother’s four sons achieved everything themselves. They learned the tannery craft. The elder children started working and helped Grandmother with money. Then, they taught the younger ones their craft. All of them were shoemakers, not cobblers, but shoe-designers. This job required certain skills and was well paid.

Mother’s family also lived in Narva. The name of my maternal grandfather was Abram Donets. He was born in Narva. The date is not known to me. I do not know what he did for a living. Grandmother Etta Donets was born in 1889. Grandmother was a seamstress. She was a gorgeous, cheerful lady. Mother said she had a wonderful taste and she had rich customers.

My grandparents had two daughters. Mother was the elder one, born in 1912. Her Jewish name was Zelda, but she was always called Zinaida. Mother’s sister Maria was born in 1913. She was called Musya in the family. Mother’s family was rather well-off. Mother and Musya graduated from the Russian lyceum in Narva. At that time it was considered to be a good education. Mother was very beautiful. She had a very beautiful, feminine shape with a small waist. In 1933 she was even elected the beauty queen of Narva.

Of course, my mother’s family was traditionally Jewish, rather religious. All of them probably went to the synagogue and marked holidays, and believed in God, but they were not such zealots as my paternal grandmother Yachna.

Grandmother Etta died young in 1932. She was only 43. She was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Narva. Grandfather Abram was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Tallinn. In 1940 he left for Tallinn on business and was run over by a car. Grandpa was not taken to Narva and was buried in Tallinn. I remember my mother and her sister Musya went to Grandfather’s funeral in Tallinn. They did not take me with them.

I do not know how my parents met. Narva was a small town and Jews always met in the synagogue at charity events. There are a lot of places where two young people can meet each other. All I know is that it was not a prearranged marriage. In spite of the fact that Grandmother Yachna was an ardent follower of traditions, prearranged marriages were not common in our family. All her children had a love wedlock. My parents got married in 1933. They had a traditional Jewish wedding with a rabbi and chuppah.

My grandmother Yachna lived in a large, six-room apartment with her numerous children. The family was clustered together – all my grandmother’s children were living there with their spouses and children. My parents also settled in that apartment after their wedding. Each family had a separate room. The only single person was my father’s brother Mikhail. And only Father’s brother Benchi lived separately with his family.

This is the story of Benchi Ferdmann I mentioned above – the case of disobey. Benchi fell in love with a Russian girl, who was living in Narva. It goes without saying that Grandmother was against that marriage. They had heavy disputes, and Grandmother demanded that Benchi stopped loving that lady. Benchi did not lose hope to talk his mother into agreeing to his marriage, but she was adamant. He loved the girl so much, that he married her without Grandmother’s consent and blessing. At that time it was the event that astounded the whole town. Both Jews and Russians kept talking about it. Probably Grandmother was the only person who did not want to talk about that marriage. She rejected her son. It was a terrible story. She spent mourning days over him the way it is done with the deceased, and never mentioned his name after that.

Father’s sister Zelda married a Jew from Narva called Sinder. Their daughter Gita was born in 1932. Father’s brother Samuel married a Jewish girl from Riga. Her name was Mira. In 1937 their son Chaim Mendle was born. He was named after Grandfather. His secular name was Charvie. He was a wonderful boy. I was born in 1934 and named Etta after Grandmother.

Of course, Grandmother’s sons became independent and she stopped working. She was sitting in the armchair and reading in her prayer book and Torah. Her daughters-in-law and her daughter Zelta did the house chores. They cooked together. The whole family had meals together at a huge table. We were very friendly. Our family spoke to me in Yiddish or Estonian. My parents spoke either Russian or Yiddish. During family reunions with Grandmother, only Yiddish was spoken.

Sabbath was marked at home. On Friday festive food was cooked, challot were baked. Grandmother watched the process for things to be done properly. She ruled the big family. Friday night we were supposed to get together in the drawing room. Grandmother lit candles and read prayers, then everybody sat down at the table. We took a piece of challah, dipped it in salt and ate it. After that we started eating other meals.

We marked all Jewish holidays; there was a synagogue in Narva and on holidays all of us went there with Grandmother. I do not remember if all the children went there on every holiday. For some reason I remember Rosh Hashanah. On that day my parents took me to the synagogue. I liked it a lot, and I was looking forward to this holiday. I do not remember other holidays.

Dad worked a lot and my parents saved money. In 1939 they opened up their own store. It was a small one, but still it was their property that they took pride in. Unfortunately, their joy was not lasting. In 1940 Russian troops entered Estonia and we became one of the Soviet republics [cf. Occupation of the Baltic Republics] 2.

I would like to say that at first people even felt euphoric about the annexation of Estonia to the Soviet Union. Nobody knew practically anything about the Soviet Union apart from the slogan ‘freedom, equality, brotherhood,’ and that was all about Soviet propaganda. The country where all people were equal, where there is no oppression, segregation, almost like a paradise. Many people believed in that, but soon they learned the sober truth.

My parents and other people went to welcome Soviet soldiers. Then they came back saying that they looked like paupers. It was obvious that the poor army demonstrated the poverty of the country. The army is the face of the county. Since that moment my parents’ attitude to the Soviets changed. Life showed that they were right. Nationalization started right away. They took all they could: houses, companies, stores. They also took my parents’ store. Of course, my parents got no compensation for that. Fortunately, nobody was housed in our apartment as we were too many people already. Then repressions started. Many people were arrested, including the Jews.

On 14th June 1941 mass deportation took place in Estonia 3. It was not enough for the Soviets to take people’s property. Within one day 10,000 people were deported from Estonia, while the entire population of the country was about a million. The deported were rich people, who were called ‘enemies of the people’ 4. Luckily, we were not deported. Stalin must have planned several stages of deportation as he was expecting Hitler’s attack on the USSR. More than one echelon might have been deported, but on 22nd June 1941 troops of fascist Germany attacked the Soviet Union and the war was unleashed 5.

When in 1939 Hitler attacked Poland 6, some Polish Jews managed to escape, and some of them came to Narva. Grandmother always helped the poor and started assisting them, giving them clothes and food. Of course, she listened to their stories about the atrocity of fascism. So, thanks to that she understood what we should expect. Our family obeyed Grandmother unconditionally. When Polish fugitives told her about ruthless murders of Jews, my grandmother ordered all of us to go into evacuation. I have no doubt: if grandmother had not told us to leave for evacuation, we would have stayed in Narva.

In evacuation during the war

We left on 18th July 1941. The Soviet government provided the trains for everybody who was willing to leave. Unfortunately, very many Jews decided to stay. They did not fear the Germans as much as the Bolsheviks 7. There were very few survivors from among those who stayed. When we were leaving, Narva was bombed from all the sides. It was bombed at the beginning of the war and during the liberation of Estonia.

My father left with us. He was the only one out of the four brothers, who was drafted into the Soviet army. The other brothers were too feeble as a result from their impoverished and famished childhood. Father was mobilized, and I left with Mother. There was also my mother’s sister Musya with us. She was single at that time. Benchi and his wife were evacuated separately from us. We found out about it after the war.

Father was drafted before our departure. We met with him almost right away. When things like that happen, one starts believing in God’s hand. We took the train to Ural. We stopped at some station in Kirov oblast. Suddenly, there was a rumor in our train that the echelon with mobilized soldiers was approaching the station. Then we found out that there was an announcement in the military train that there was a train with Estonian evacuees.

Father did not know that we were on that train, but he rushed to look for us. He was putting his boots on, when there was an announcement about our train. He even did not have time to put the second boot on, and ran there holding the second boot in his hand. It was very touching. Hardly had we spoken several words, when our train left. We were heading to Ural and the train with the mobilized took the same direction. There were camps nearby the town Kamyshlov of Sverdlovsk oblast, were the Estonian corps 8 was being formed.

We reached the town of Irbit, Sverdlovsk oblast [about 1600 km east of Moscow]. We were sent to Kirillovo, which was 14 kilometers away from Irbit. We were housed with peasants. All of us were very tired and hungry, willing to get to bed and to take a rest. We were taken to the hut. Samuel went into the room, which was provided by the hosts. He came out and said that the room was large enough for all of us. There were icons on the walls. [Christian families traditionally had icons in their homes, unless some of their members were convinced communists. Most older people in villages remained religious.] Grandmother did not enter the room and did not let anybody in until the hosts had taken off the icons. Then, she allowed them to enter the room.

All of us but Grandmother started working. There was a kolkhoz 9 in Kirillovo. Women started working in the field. The kolkhoz paid for work with trudodni 10. There were trudodni for each working day and after harvesting a certain amount of flour, groat and vegetables were given for them. It was the only food we could get. Sometimes we exchanged products for some things.

Now I understand how difficult it was for the adults to work so hard physically to feed three little kids. It was the hardest for Grandmother and Zelda as they ate only kosher food. Fortunately, Grandmother’s sons were not such bigots. It is hard to imagine how the kashrut could be observed under those circumstances. I do not know how they survived, but they did not break the rules. They even marked Jewish holidays in evacuation. I remember on Pesach my grandmother baked matzah from flour, which was given for trudodni. They made Lenten scones and baked them in the oven.

When we were living in Kirillovo, my mother tried to find out where the Estonian corps was formed. Finally she got to know it and it turned out that it was not very far from us. Mother and I went to visit Father. I do not remember how we got there. All I can tell you is that somebody showed us the path in the forest and we managed to find Dad. They lived in dug-outs in the forest. There were a lot of our acquaintances. The commanders of the corps gave a separate dug-out to three people and we lived there with Father for three days. Then we found out that there would be medical commission soon and Father would most likely be demobilized. He required a very strict diet and in the camp he had an ulcer. We left for Kirillovo. In early 1942 my father was demobilized and he came to us.

Late 1941, early 1942 was the hardest time for our family. On 28th December 1941 my uncle Samuel’s little son, Chaim Mendle, died. That day was my birthday. The kid was only four. He was the youngest and evacuation was the hardest on him. Of course, his death was a blow to the entire family. The second loss was in early 1942. The husband of my father’s sister Zelda decided to leave for Palestine. During the war such a decision was absurd, but he probably could not understand how preposterous his plans were. He also urged two other men – his distant relatives – to go with him. They risked finding their way to Palestine. My uncle left his wife and small daughter Gita to seek his fortune. He got lost. After the war, we started looking for him. Though, we do know what has happened to him. He must have been shot on his way.

Mikhail was the only one of my father’s brothers who was single before the war. He met his future wife in Kirillovo. Sifa was also an evacuee. Her family were Belarusian fugitives. They turned out to be in Irbit. Sifa was a Jew and Grandmother allowed Mikhail to marry her. He was the only one of the family who did not have a traditional Jewish wedding. Where would they have found a rabbi in that hick Ural village. Their marriage was registered in the village council and in the evening Grandmother made a festive dinner for both families.

In 1942 my father was demobilized from the army because of his health and he came to Kirillovo. We were living together in that hut for about a year, and then our family left for Irbit. The rest of the family stayed in Kirillovo. Father started being in charge of a workshop, where Mother was also working. I went to school rather late. Mother was hoping that the war would be over soon and I would be able to go to school in Estonia. Mother did not trust the village school. I turned nine and Mother would keep saying, ‘Let’s wait for our return to Estonia.’ Finally my father insisted that it was high time for me to study and I went to the first grade in Irbit. That was the reason why our family could not come back together.

Soviet troops, including the Estonian corps, liberated Estonia on 24th November 1944. Grandmother moved there with the whole family. Narva was almost completely destroyed by bombing and they settled in Tallinn. The war was not over yet, but it was not hard to return to Estonia. Only a passport was needed. We could not leave at once, as I was supposed to finish the first grade at least. Thus, we returned in summer 1945, when the school year was over. At that time an invitation letter was required to return to Estonia. Somebody from our family sent us the invitation letter and we went to Tallinn.

Back in Estonia

We started living together again in a small log house on the outskirts of Tallinn. There was one big room there, where all of us lived. We slept on the floor. Father was suffering that he could not provide normal living conditions for us. He was a very sociable person with a sense of humor. He had a lot of friends. Father walked around Tallinn, looking at houses. If he liked something, he would sigh and say, ‘I wish we lived here.’ One of Father’s friends helped. He got two rooms in a communal apartment 11 on one of Tallinn’s central streets, Tartu Mente.

The apartment was in an old, but very beautiful house with high ceilings and carved doors. It was posh for postwar times. Estonians were our neighbors. We were very friendly, having no conflicts. We lived there for 26 years. Only after Father’s death we decided to exchange it for a separate apartment. In 1971 my mother and I moved to a separate two-room apartment. I still live there, and I like my apartment. All my father’s relatives got apartments with time. All of them lived not far from each other and still were very close. Grandmother kept bossing around over our large family.

Uncle Samuel was the first to die. He and my father were very close. They saw each other almost every day. Maybe Samuel was my father’s favorite brother because of that. Samuel started feeling unwell in evacuation. He took the death of his four-year-old son really hard. He was afflicted with stenocardia after that and could not be cured. Upon his return to Tallinn Samuel hardly worked. He stayed in bed most of the time. He died of a heart attack in 1947 and he was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Tallinn. His wife Mira lived alone for many years, then she got married again. She died in 1974.

Mother’s sister Musya got married after the war. She was an educated woman, but she married a simple worker. Her husband’s last name was Burmistrovich. He was from Pärnu. After the wedding she moved there. She worked in some office. She did not have children.

Mikhail and his wife Sifa got one room in a communal apartment. Mikhail worked as an accountant. They had no children. They lived together childless. Mikhail died in 1972. He was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Tallinn.

During the years in evacuation Kirillovo we did not know anything about the fate of Grandmother’s son Benchi, we even had no idea if he was still alive. We did not know if his family managed to get evacuated from Narva. We met only in 1945 in Tallinn. Benchi and his Russian wife were in evacuation in Siberia. In 1942 their daughter Anna was born there. Benchi suffered very much that his mother rejected him. All her sons were close to her. Several years after the war a meeting between Benchi and his mother was arranged. Grandmother thought better, and accepted her son once again. Of course, she recognized neither his wife nor daughter. She was cruel. Benchi was taking it very hard as Grandmother did not even want to look at her granddaughter.

He died rather young because of all that suffering. Benchi was only 57, when he had an infarction and died. I cannot say that my grandmother was mourning over him. She cried, but it was not obvious that his death was a big tribulation for her. Benchi was buried in the Jewish cemetery and his wife did not mind. Grandmother did not even attend her son’s funeral. She only asked where and when the burial would be. She probably could not forgive him. She thought he had betrayed his people. Now Grandmother and Benchi are buried next to each other. The earth reconciled them finally.

I went to the second grade of compulsory school upon our return from evacuation. There were a lot of overage pupils in our class due to the war. I did pretty well at school. I was particularly good at arts. I joined the pioneers 12 when I was in the third grade, but I didn’t join the Komsomol 13 at school. I always found some reasons for refusal, and finished ten grades without entering the Komsomol.

We came back to a totally different Estonia. It was not the country that we had known. After the war we started having a lot of newcomers from the Soviet Union and Estonia had a strong Russian influence. I cannot say that they were feeling aloof towards Estonian denizens. There were a lot of good people among the Russians and we made friends with some of them. But most of our friends were Estonians and Jews.

Attitude to judaism

My parents were religious and I consider myself to be religious. After the war, the Soviet regime started a struggle against religion 14, but here it was lackadaisical, not the way in was in the rest of postwar Russia. There was no synagogue in Tallinn 15 after the war. The wonderful Tallinn synagogue burned down during the bombing. After the war the municipal authorities provided Jews with small premises to be used for praying. The premises were at the school where I was studying. It could not be called a synagogue, not only for being so small, but also because there was no rabbi in postwar Tallinn. The rabbi of Tallinn, Aba Gomer 16, was murdered by Germans, and since then there was a gabbai in Tallinn, who knew Ivrit, prayers and Jewish traditions and rites. A true rabbi appeared here in 2003, at the invitation of the Jewish Community of Estonia 17. Even during the Soviet time, Jewish life did not cease to exist in Estonia.

All Jewish traditions were very strictly observed while Grandmother was alive. She even managed to celebrate Sabbath and lit candles on that day, although Saturday was a working day in Soviet times. Grandmother did not work. She marked Sabbath in accordance with the tradition. On Saturday she went to the prayer house. When she came back she spent her day reading a prayer book. Grandmother lived with her daughter Zelda and granddaughter Gita. The kashrut was very strictly observed. Even in evacuation they preferred hunger to committing a breach of the kashrut, so after their return it went without saying: there was only kosher food at home, while Grandmother was alive.

I remember when I was a student, my father got into a huge debt and purchased a Moskvitch car 18. I learned driving and every week for grandmother I went to the market to get live hens and took them to the shochet. His name was Kats. Probably nobody remembers him anymore, but I will always remember my trips to him with hens. So, I took hens to him, he cut them and I brought them to grandmother. Her daughter and she ate only those hens.

Zelda had always been a very pious person. She was very charitable, helped the poor, gave them money for food. When some Jews died, she went to sew takhrikhim – Jewish traditional attire for the deceased. It was supposed to be a good deed for God. She always looked after some sick person. She helped everybody. People did not have to ask her for help, as she offered it anyways. She was honest in everything. There was one case: one old man whom she looked after, left her money. My aunt refused, saying that she had not right to take it. She found some of his distant relatives in Leningrad and sent the money to them. She had an easy death without suffering. Zelda died in her sleep in 1978.

We also marked Jewish holidays after the war. Grandmother made sure that everything would be observed that was sacred to her. If she observed it, her children did the same. On Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur my grandmother even forbade my cousin Gita and me to go to school. Thus, we obeyed her and went to the synagogue with our parents. When Grandmother was alive, the whole family got together to mark the holidays. Grandmother and Zelda made the feast. I remember that on Pesach my father always read from the Haggadah  and put one drop of red Pascal wine on the saucer. Father also read a prayer, as I far as I remember. It is hard for me to recall things in detail, as things are forgotten over the years. The Soviet regime did its best for us to be away from Jewry.

On Yom Kippur my parents fasted for 24 hours in accordance with tradition. When I grew up, I also started fasting. We bought the products on the eve of the fast so that we could have them after fasting. We did not have family reunions after Grandmother’s death, but we marked holidays in our family. Our family always marked holidays. After Grandmother’s death our family went to the synagogue on major holidays, but we did not mark Sabbath at home.

Life under the communist regime

When we had just returned to Tallinn from evacuation, we did not feel the Soviet regime as acutely. Then the oppression of the Soviets was getting harder and starting from 1947 we started feeling how strong it was. It all started with Estonian partisan squads, which could not abide by the Soviet occupation of Estonia. Those squads mostly consisted of peasants. They attacked soldiers. It was horrible! Those peasants were caught and ruthlessly exterminated like wolves. Many Estonian families had to mourn over their relatives that perished at the hand of the NKVD 19. Then they started imprisoning people. One suspicion that the person was helping the partisans was enough to put him in jail. People were imprisoned for disapproving remarks with regards to the Soviet regime and whole innocent families were imprisoned.

Then in 1948-1949 deportation of Estonian population resumed. This time the Soviet regime fought well-off peasants. Agricultural export was the main source of export from Estonia. Of course, the peasants were rich, having large farm. They did not have any kolkhozes – families worked hard from dawn till night. Those hard-working people were called kulaks 20, and exiled to Siberia with their families. That deportation did not refer to the Jews only because the latter were barely involved in agriculture. Estonians were exiled – the most hard-working and skilled. The rest were compelled to join kolkhozes.

At that time we lived at Tartu Mante, not far from the building of the automobile inspection. I still remember the closed trucks arriving there closer to the evening. Then at night they went out to arrest people. In 1949, 20,000 were deported within several nights. It was a terrible campaign. It is hard to put in words what was going on here. People were moaning, crying, trying to find out information about their relatives, to give them food and clothes. The Soviets felt like hosts here, doing whatever they wished. Almost every Estonian family felt what the Soviet regime was like and hated it.

I remember one case vividly, though in 1946 I was still a child. My uncle Mikhail and his wife Sifa lived in the center of Tallinn at Pik Street. We often called on them. Once my parents and I were at their place, when their pals, the Perovich family, came. Tallinn indigenes probably know that family very well. They were a rich Jewish family that was deported in 1941. Both of them were elderly. They had spent  five years in Siberian exile and survived. In 1946 they were exempt from exile and they decided to come back to Tallinn. So, they came to see Mikhail. They were sitting at the table and having a meal, when suddenly somebody rang at the door. Two NKVD officers came in and asked, ‘Are you the Peroviches?’ And informed them that they were arrested and had to go into exile again. Horrible!

I still remember the silence at the table. Everybody was so shocked that they could not say a word. I was twelve years old at that time and I still remember that feeling of being horrified. It was such a guile to let these people go – they were innocent –  and make them feel free only to arrest them again. They followed them because they did not come to arrest them in their place, but to us. Then I understood that the NKVD was constantly following people. Damned regime! But still we managed to live with it, as we had no choice. We suffered, but we could not go anywhere. USSR citizens had no right to immigrate.

After the war my father was in charge of a shoe workshop. He did not have a very professional accountant and in a while he had a discrepancy between the cash and the reports. There was a surplus in the till of 1,200 rubles. In 1950 there was an audit at the workshop and the surplus was seized. [Editor’s note: at that time it was not a very large amount, it equaled an average two-month salary, but it was hard to get by with that amount of money]. I went to the sixth grade at that time. It was January 1950. I remember how they came to our place for a search. It was dreadful for me. Of course, they did not find anything, but they arrested Mother. I stayed by myself. I was watched and assisted by my kind neighbors. Father was sentenced to eight years in prison, then they thought it was not enough and they added another two years, that is, ten years in total. Mother was in Tallinn jail. I went to see both Mother and Father, brought them some food. It was such a bad time!

Mother was in prison for a relatively short term: eight months. They did not find her guilty and let her go. She had to work as Father was in prison. First, she was employed at a textile store as a saleswoman. Then she went to work for a dairy store. Father stayed in Tallinn. Here we had a camp at Magazinin Street. Usually they did not imprison people in the city where they were from. For example, a prisoner from Tallinn was sent to Kostroma and one from Kostroma in Tallinn. It was done so that it would be hard for the relatives to go and see prisoners, for them to feel left out from ordinary life, for the hardship of prison to be felt dramatically. Father had many friends and they managed that he could stay in Tallinn. Mother and I went to see Dad, and at times we left things for him.

At that time the prisoners were not robbers and gangsters like now, but the intelligentsia. Once Mother and I were waiting in the line to give a package to Dad and noticed a 13-year-old girl with black plaits. We understood instantly that she was a Jew and not a local once to boot. The car of the camp director was passing by and she stopped it. Mother and I understood what she was talking about by the expression of her face. We went up to her and asked where she was from. Her name was Mara Dolgopolskaya. She was from Leningrad. Her father, a famous Leningrad lawyer, was arrested and charged with spivving. At that time they did not think of the plausibility of the indictment and sent him to the Tallinn camp.

I do not remember where Mara’s mother was at that time. At any rate, the girl remained by herself. Thus, she, a 13-year-old child came to Tallinn from Leningrad to see her father. It is hard to imagine what she must have been feeling! How can someone love the Soviet regime, if any human being was like dust to them that could be wiped out? Mother had Mara stay with us before her departure for Leningrad. She stayed in our place every time she came to see her father. I made friends with Mara and we are still close. Mara studied, became an engineer, got married. We are very different, but we are bonded. We write letters, call each other.

My father’s pardon was an unbelievable concurrence of circumstances. Some official happened to live in the house, where we were living after the war. In the apartment one floor below us lived the Estonian writer August Yakobson, who was a Soviet writer. After the war, my father decided to make clothes to have an additional income. He did well and soon he became a good tailor. Yakobson ordered suits from my father and came to our place. Our neighbors loved our Dad and when my parents were arrested, Yakobson and his family did not leave me in the lurch. They took care of me. I made friends with two of his daughters. I will never forget all their help and support while my parents were in prison.

Then Yakobson was elected the chairman of The Presidium of the Supreme Council of Estonia 21. At that time his family moved to the place where the members of the government resided. That August Yakobson exempted my father. Mother and I never asked for anything as he had a connate pride. Mother worked, I went to school and we tried to get by with what we had. Our relatives helped. They were father’s kin, so we could accept their help.

In winter 1953 there was a sudden telephone call. I picked up the phone and the lady said that she was calling from the Supreme Council to find out where the prisoner Ferdmann was held. I advised her accordingly. In the evening I told my mother about that phone call. We could not get what was going on because we had not made any appeals as we knew it would be of no use. It turned out that Yakobson sent a request to the camp asking for the characteristics of the prisoner Ferdmann. He had excellent characteristics and the Presidium of Supreme Council pleaded for my father’s pardon. It was unbelievable and I will never forget it.

There were people who understood how unfair the Soviet regime was. There were good people. In 1963 Yakobson died while my father was still alive. My dad went to his funeral with a big wreath. I still remember those years and think  thank God those years are in the past! Almost every family suffered during the Soviet regime! It made Jews and Estonians more bonded. Both of them suffered from the Soviet regime as the indigenes of Estonia were also hit by that.

I do not deny the fact that there was scum here during the war: Estonians, who were killing Jews, giving away Jews, bringing Germans into Jewish houses, taking them to the camps in other countries. Those things happened back in that time. Maybe there were many Estonians who were guilty of the afore-mentioned. It was genocide of the Jewish nation, Holocaust. But we should also remember that before the war, in the period of 1940-1941, the Soviet regime murdered, incarcerated and deported innocent people. Who knows, if there had not been that terrible year, Estonians maybe would not have regarded the Germans as liberators from the Bolsheviks. Maybe, they would not have helped the Germans.

Of course, almost all Jews stayed in the country during the war and were slaughtered not only by Germans, but also by Estonians. It was true. But there were righteous people 22 among Estonians. When I was in Israel, I went to Yad Vashem. 23. There was a monument to Estonians, who saved ten Jews. I took a picture of the monument, where the surnames of the rescued Jews were written. The war segregated people in two camps. After the war, I can say expressly, that Estonians were always on the side of the Jews. Anti-Semitism in Estonia emerged only from the Soviet regime, from the Soviet people, who flooded Estonia after the war.

I was at school during the Doctors’ Plot 24 and I was reproached for being a Jew only by Soviet children. None of the Estonian kids ever did anything of the kind. They helped, supported and were kind to me. I felt it from my own experience. During the Doctors’ Plot, Estonians were compassionate not only to the Kremlin doctors, who were charged with the attempt to poison Stalin, but to the Jews in general.

I have worked in Estonian teams all my life, and I have never felt that I, a Jew, was different from Estonians. I felt different when communicating with Russians. I am currently living in a house where there are only Estonians, no Russians, and I perfectly get along with my neighbors. By the way, after the war, there were a lot of Jews in Soviet punitive bodies, like the NKVD. I cannot forgive such Jews. My father’s investigator was a Jew, he tortured and beat people during interrogations. Of course, such people were hated and I understand why.

Father was pardoned, and he had no right to live in Tallinn until his sentence expired. No matter that he was pardoned, his rights were restricted. The fact that he was bereft of his voting right, was of no importance to my father, but it was very hard for him to be separated from his family. Father was registered 25 in the Tallinn suburb Keila. He was formally there, but in actuality he was living with us. Of course, it was very dangerous. If someone had informed against Father, he would have been sent back to the camp for violation of the passport regime.

I remember the day of Stalin’s death. It was the 5th of March, 1953. There was a mourning announcement on the radio early in the day due to Stalin’s death. I dashed into my parents’ bedroom to break the news to my father, who said, ‘God, what a fortune, that Stalin kicked the bucket and they announced it!’ There was a meeting of teachers and students at school. Our school principal was crying when she was addressing us. The teacher and students burst into tears. I was also crying, and my tears were sincere. Probably I was just touched by the atmosphere.

The Twentieth Party Congress 26, where Khrushchev 27 divulged Stalin’s crimes, was not a big astonishment for us. Of course, we were rejoicing in the official recognition, as in Estonia everybody understood that Stalin was a criminal and a tyrant. People here were not as much stressed as those from Moscow or Leningrad. We took it with relief. Of course, Estonians were happy to find out about it. Rehabilitation began 28, the deported, repressed were coming back home. Those Estonian citizens who were deported in 1941, had been in exile over 15 years, and those who were deported in 1949 for seven to eight years.

I finished school in 1955. I was not willing to leave Tallinn to go study anywhere, not even at the famous Tartu University. Moreover, I was an only child in the family. After school I entered the history and philology department of Tallinn Teachers’ Training Institute. I easily passed the entrance exams and was admitted. My nationality was not an obstacle as there was no state anti-Semitism in Estonia, of course it was the politics of the Soviet Union since key posts were taken by Estonians, but still they did not share the politics.

I was not a member of the Komsomol at school. I found all kinds of pretext not to join this organization. I hated the Soviet regime and all kind of party activity, even when I was a child. I was the only one in the university, who was not a Komsomol member. A Jew called Vcherashnyaya was the curator of our group. Once she called me and said that I should join the Komsomol as I was the only one in my group who had not done so. She was sincere with me. She said I should not be singled out in the group, especially being a Jew. Judging by my age I did not have to stay in the Komsomol for long. Thus, I thought I could bear it. So, I joined the Komsomol. Then, when I was working, I was talked into entering the party, but I flatly refused it. I was very happy for not giving up, without having to prevaricate.

There were a lot of Jews in my group. In general, there were a lot of Jews in Estonian institution of higher education. There were not only Jews from Estonia, but from all parts of the Soviet Union. It was very hard for the Jews to enter an institute in other republics, so they came to us. Here there was one selection criterion: knowledge demonstrated during entrance exams.

My cousin Gita was studying at the Tallinn Polytechnic Institute and there were a lot of students, who came to study from all over the Soviet union as there was terrible anti-Semitism in the Soviet Union. Gita married her fellow student Iosif Fefer, who came here from Nikolayev.

Not only students came here, but also the teachers. Many talented people, scientists, who were unwanted in other parts of the Soviet Union, came here. They became the pride of Estonia. For example, there was a wonderful philologist named Yury Lotman 29, a professor of Tartu University.

I studied for five years and never felt that I was a Jew, worse than anybody else. There was no social or state anti-Semitism among indigenes of Estonia. Those who came from the USSR brought it in 1940.

When I was in the fifth year in 1960 there was an announcement for the students of the fifth course to teach Russian language and literature on the islands of Estonia. There was a high demand for teachers there. Those, who agreed to go there, were to defend their diplomas separately and have open diplomas, that is, without mandatory job assignment 30. The terms were attractive. Besides, I wanted to try my choice of profession. I chose the island Hiiumaa in the north of Estonia and headed there. I remember how my parents were seeing me off in winter time. I had to take a small plane, where only ten people could fit. I was given a very warm welcome at school. I had work there until the summer holidays and then I came back to Tallinn. I defended my diploma and graduated.

My father helped me get a job of a teacher of Russian language and literature at the Construction College. I worked there for 14 years teaching Russian to Estonian and Russian students. Then I changed my work place for the music school at the conservatoire. I taught Russian language and literature there. I worked for 28 years full time and retired. I had several hours of Russian with Estonian lawyers. It was not a very well-paid job, but I enjoyed it. This year, I was asked to come back to the music school. The really wanted me to be back. So, I am working there and I am very happy as I find no pleasure in sitting at home.

In 1961 my grandmother Yachna died. She had a hard death. She was practically bound to bed most of the time. Her children revered her, I cannot say that they worshipped her, but she was deeply respected by them. When she was sick, both of her sons, my father and his brother Mikhail, looked after her in turns. Grandmother died at the venerable age of 84. She was buried in Tallinn cemetery in accordance with the Jewish rite.

It is a miracle that neither the Germans nor the Soviet did harm to our Jewish cemetery. People are still buried there. She was buried in the casket with seven perforations for the body to be turned to ashes as soon as possible. It is interesting that the Estonians who were working in the undertakers’ bureau were aware of that Jewish tradition and did things properly. Grandmother was clad in takhrikhim and put in the casket. After grandmother’s death Sabbath was no longer marked in our family, but Jewish holidays were still marked in keeping with tradition.

For 20 years my mother was working as a saleswoman in a kiosk Tallinn. She was the best saleswoman in Tallinn and very many people knew her. Though she changed over the years, put on weight, young men came up to her and asked, ‘Are you Lady Donets?’ She was probably still recognizable. Mother was pleased with that. She was even awarded a Zhiguli car for outstanding work. She could not drive the car at that time as she was walking with crutches. I drove that car for 15 years. Mother was very hard-working. She retired at the age of 70, though the pension age for women was 55 in the Soviet Union. Mother was deeply respected, both of my parents enjoyed respect from everybody who knew them.

My private life was not very happy. My father was as strict as my grandmother. He also thought that there was no way I could marry a non-Jew. For some reason I was mostly admired by Russians. Of course, none of them was allowed to enter our house. It was out of the question. At times my father would not speak with me for weeks if he found out that I had a Russian admirer. Thus, I remained single.

After my father’s death I started seeing one man. Mother was more loyal than Dad as she thought that I should not remain by myself. My relationship did not last long, we broke up soon, remaining strangers to each other. So, I have neither husband nor children. Now the only close person to me in Tallinn is my cousin Anna, the daughter of my poor father’s brother Benchi and his Russian wife. Anna is a doctor. She is also single. We are good friends.

Father died in 1967 when he turned 60. He died suddenly. The cause was an infarction. All of us were at home. Father was reading a newspaper, I and Mother were talking. Suddenly we saw Father falling… He died in two days and a half. I am not a fatalist, but there is an interesting coincidence with his death. Father and his brother Samuel, who died in 1947, were very close. They loved each other very much and often met. Samuel died on 5th December 1947 and exactly 20 years later, on 5th December 1967 my dad died.

Father was buried in accordance with the Jewish rite. Before her death, my grandmother bequeathed that all her sons should be buried in tallit. Father had a tallit before the war and he was buried in that. He was buried by a gabbai. People were praying in the synagogue and reciting the Kaddish over him.

Mother survived Father by 20 years, she died in 1987. She had a heart attack. When I came home after work, she was in the kitchen. Suddenly I heard a moaning: m-m-m-m-m…. Mother, like Father, lived for another two and half days and died. Of course, she was buried in accordance with the Jewish rites. In this respect, my soul is clean as my parents and relatives were buried properly. I also arranged the funeral of my aunt Musya, my mother’s sister. She died in Pärnu in 1984.

Atitude to Israel

When in 1948 the state of Israel was officially recognized, it was a holiday for all my kin. I will never forget how happy my parents were on that day. None of our relatives left, when there was a mass departure of Jews for Israel in the 1970s. They left in 1990. The only relatives who stayed for a while were my cousin Gita and her family. I also had some distant relatives, some second cousins or so, but I did not know them very well.

Gita and her family left in March 1990. I visited them in summer 1990. Gita sent me the invitation and I went to Moscow to process the permit. The Soviet regime was still in power, though perestroika had started already 31. It was so complicated! I had to go to Moscow, to the Israeli embassy. There were problems with the tickets; I had to stand in line all night long to exchange money. It was terrible.

My other two visits were after the breakup of the Soviet Union [in 1991]. It was so simple then. I did not even need a visa. I bought the tickets and left. During my first trip to Israel, I thought of my father when the plane was approaching the airport. It was my dad’s dream to see this country. His dream could not be realized during the Soviet time. He wanted to go there at least once.

Israel is a beautiful country, where every stone and every tree is breathing with history. It is a wonderful country, but I did not want to stay there. There are a lot of things there that are strange and unclear to me. Jews are very fussy. There is such a din.… They call it historic motherland. I do not understand this, frankly speaking. I still think that even if my parents were still alive, we would stay here anyway. Our roots are here. It is nice to go there for a visit, but not to live permanently in Israel, or Canada, where our relatives live. The generations of my parents lived in Narva, Estonia, and this country is my motherland. I am comfortable here.

Then, there is another factor my ancestors’ graves are here. Almost all my kin is buried in Tallinn Jewish cemetery Рахumer. I am taking care of their graves and I find it sacred. There is also a burial place for me, with my name written on it. It keeps me here. Relatives should not be forgotten, but remembered and respected. Of course, I always trace the events in Israel, watch the news, often call my relatives there. I am worried for my country, for my relatives. They are happy there and I am glad.

My Israeli relatives became religious. For example, it is not common for me, when the public transport is closed in Israel at 2pm on a Friday. Everybody marks Sabbath: lights candles, puts challot and bread on the table, prays etc. I was pleased with that and I was even surged with recollections of my childhood. As if I travelled back to those times. I was in Israel on Yom Kippur. Unfortunately, I could not fast because of my diabetes. I had to eat, but my relatives said that God did not want sick people to fast to their harm, and it was no fault of mine. I went to a true Jewish wedding.

Before my trip to Israel I went to some former socialist countries. It was hard to get the trip vouchers, but I was given them as a bonus at work. During the work for the Construction College, I was given a voucher for Bulgaria. There were so many discussions whether I was worthy to represent the Soviet Union in Socialist Bulgaria! It was allowed to go there only in groups. The sightseeing was only with the group. Everybody knew that in every group there was always a stooge working for the KGB 32, who would report about your behavior, contacts etc. We also had a KGB informer at work. We knew that all of us depended on his reports, starting from salary increase and up to getting an apartment and trip vouchers. The whole Soviet system was built on squealing. Thank God all those horrors are gone.

Recent years

When Mikhail Gorbachev 33 came to power in the Soviet Union, I personally did not hope for any changes for the better, but it turned out that our lives became better. Gorbachev’s perestroika gave us some liberties that we did not have. We could freely speak about everything without fearing the KGB. Materials were published in newspapers and magazines, for which authors would have been sent to the Gulag 34 before.

I cannot say that during Gorbachev there was no Iron Curtain 35, separating the Soviet Union from the rest of the world. But changes were emerging. It was the time when tourist vouchers could be purchased without hurdles. The trade union provided them. I recall that in early 1988 vouchers to Hungary and Romania were on offer. There were so many people willing to go that the lines were huge. I was standing in line all night long to get a voucher.

Gorbachev was respected in Estonia. When he came to Tallinn he was given a very warm welcome. I think he deserves respect as he was the first from the leaders to take a step towards a normal life. When I was working in the music school, my Estonian students said that finally the Soviet Union had a normal president. Compared with Khrushchev and Brezhnev 36, Gorbachev looked civilized, had good manners and orator skills. I think it was he who prepared the breakup of the Soviet Union even if he was not aware of it. Those who were behind the putsch 37, also facilitated in that. Those people who were looking up to Gorbachev, to a new course, would not be able to abide by the stagnation bog of the Soviet life.

Fortunately, the events connected with the putsch, did not have such a resonance in Estonia. Though, the tanks of Pskov division were commissioned in Tallinn. They reached the television tower, our People front 38 met them there. Our president and famous Estonian politicians were there. They managed to reach a peaceful agreement without resorting to a fight. I remember when I was listening to the radio. I was focused on the news from Moscow. It was calm here.

On 20th August 1991 our government made the announcement that Estonia would be no longer a Soviet Socialist Republic 39. On 21st August I left for Finland. I remember we were joking on our way: we would come home, and there would be Soviet power again. Thank God things were smooth, no victims. Estonia became independent again. When I found out about the breakup of the USSR, I felt happy. The only thing I pitied is that my dad did not live to see that. He was so looking forward to that event as he hated the Soviet regime. Thank God it happened in my life time. That Soviet regime was so wicked! When I was going back to those times trying to recall good things, there was only one – free education and scholarship. Officially health care was free, but if one wanted to be well taken care of he still had to pay, but in the form of presents.

There are people in Estonia who are still nostalgic about the Soviet regime. These are Russians, who have not obtained Estonian citizenship. They demand that it should be provided automatically, and they take no efforts. It’s not that hard: just learn Estonian and pass the exam. I always argue with Russians who are saying that it is impossible to study Estonian. Why demand that a second state language – Russian – should be introduced, that Russian schools should be open for their children and subjects taught in Russian at the universities? It is necessary to study the language if you are willing to work, to be a fully-fledged citizen of a country. My cousin Gita left for Israel, when she was 59 and she learned Ivrit.

There are some Russians in Estonia, who have been living here for over 50 years, some were even born here, but still they do not know the language. How can it be like that? It would be impossible in any other part of the world, but here it is possible, because Russians were not wanted here, but became the hosts of the country and they did not care about the Estonian language and culture. They did not get that they had to respect the language and the customs of the country, where they were living. Only occupants are acting like that. Estonian was taught at Soviet schools. There were two classes per week, but the attitude was indifference. They gave you good marks no matter whether you knew the language or not. Now Estonian is not one of the major subjects in Estonian schools, which was different in Soviet times.

There is no anti-Semitism in Estonia. I am rather elderly. I worked with Estonians all the time and nobody ever hurt me. My relationship with Estonian students is great. Every year on teachers’ day my graduates come to congratulate me. Actually, they come to see me even on ordinary days asking for my help if it is needed. They do not come in groups, just one or two people. I know they are sincere. I am currently teaching the Russian language in the ninth grade of the music school.

Recently there was a poll and students were asked to share their opinion of the teachers, including their personal qualities. I think this would have been impossible in Soviet times. And now we are mature enough to be given characteristics by our students. I was lucky enough to read some of those opinions expressed by students. Of course, I was not entitled to do that as the poll was intended for the Ministry of Education, not for the teachers. But I was so curious that I decided to browse through the material. I was so shocked how good those students were at knowing people. They did not care about my nationality. All they are interested in is what kind of person I am. I was not aware of many things brought up by the students. When I finished reading and thought about it, I understood they were right.

I always got along with my students. The last graduates of the Construction College from the year 1972 come to see me every year on teachers’ day. They found out from somebody that I was going to fix my apartment. I made arrangements with specialists, but my former students asked me to cancel everything saying that they would fix my apartment. They did a great job and I was very happy that they made such a present for me. What can you say about anti-Semitism here?

I think I live rather comfortably now. I earn my bread and butter and get a pretty good pension. Last summer everybody who was in evacuation got the status of a repressed person. It means that for every year in exile an additional three years of pension record was added. Thus, I got 12 more years of the pension record. Now my track record is 47 years. Besides, I am provided with benefits. The only thing that I regret is restitution. I could not get any compensation for the seized store that my parents used to own. It was taken from my parents by the Soviet regime. It was hard on them. In general, I am doing well. I can afford traveling. I would like to go to my niece’s wedding in Canada. I will go there for sure, if I get a visa.

In 1985, when Gorbachev was at power, the Jewish Community of Estonia was officially founded in Tallinn. I became a member right away. I am not a very active member as I am working and do not have a lot of free time, but still I go to the community rather often. The very fact of its existence is important to me. The community provides monetary assistance. Now I am getting compensation for being repressed, so I do not use the assistance provided by the community. I go there rather often to attend meetings with interesting people, lectures, community meetings. Of course, I also go to Jewish community on religious holidays. It is important for me to comprehend that I am not alone. I never feel lonely in the community.

Glossary:

1 Estonian Independence

Estonia was under Russian rule since 1721, when Peter the Great defeated the Swedes and made the area officially a part of Russia. During World War I, after the collapse of the tsarist regime, Estonia was partly conquered by the German army. After the German capitulation (11th November 1918) the Estonians succeeded in founding their own state, and on 2nd February 1920 the Treaty of Tartu was concluded between independent Estonia and Russia. Estonia remained independent until 1940.

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

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

3 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 under the pretext of 'grossly dodged from labor activity in the agricultural field and led anti-social and parasitic mode of life' from Latvia 52,541, from Lithuania 118,599 and from Estonai 32,450 people were deported. The total number of deportees from the three republics amounted to 203,590. Among them were entire Lithuanian families of different social strata (peasants, workers, intelligentsia), everybody who was able to reject or deemed capable to reject 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 camps.

4 Enemy of the people

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

5 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.

6 German Invasion of Poland

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

7 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.

8 Estonian Rifle Corps

Military unit established in late 1941 as a part of the Soviet Army. The Corps was made up of two rifle divisions. Those signed up for the Estonian Corps by military enlistment offices were ethnic Estonians regardless of their residence within the Soviet Union as well as men of call-up age residing in Estonia before the Soviet occupation (1940). The Corps took part in the bloody battle of Velikiye Luki (December 1942 - January 1943), where it suffered great losses and was sent to the back areas for re-formation and training. In the summer of 1944, the Corps took part in the liberation of Estonia and in March 1945 in the actions on Latvian territory. In 1946, the Corps was disbanded.

9 Collective farm (in Russian kolkhoz)

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

10 Trudodni

A measure of work used in Soviet collective farms until 1966. Working one day it was possible to earn from 0.5 up to 4 trudodni. In fall when the harvest was gathered the collective farm administration calculated the cost of 1 trudoden in money or food equivalent (based upon the profit).

11 Communal apartment

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

12 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.

13 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.

14 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.

15 Tallinn Synagogue

built in 1883 and designed by architect Nikolai Tamm; burnt down completely in 1944.

16 Aba Gomer (?-1941)

Born in Belostok, Poland, and graduated from the Department of Philosophy of Bonn University. He lived in Tallinn from 1927 and was the chief rabbi of Estonia. In 1941, he was determined not to go into Soviet back areas and remained on the German-occupied territory. He was killed by Nazis in the fall of 1941.

17 Jewish community of Estonia

  On 30th March 1988 in a meeting of Jews of Estonia, consisting of 100 people, convened by David Slomka, a resolution was made to establish the Community of Jewish Culture of Estonia (KJCE) and in May 1988 the community was registered in the Tallinn municipal Ispolkom. KJCE was the first independent Jewish cultural organization in the USSR to be officially registered by the Soviet authorities. In 1989 the first Ivrit courses started, although the study of Ivrit was equal to Zionist propaganda and considered to be anti-Soviet activity. Contacts with Jewish organizations of other countries were established. KJCE was part of the Peoples' Front of Estonia, struggling for an independent state. In December 1989 the first issue of the KJCE paper Kashachar (Dawn) was published in Estonian and Russian language. In 1991 the first radio program about Jewish culture and activities of KJCE, 'Sholem Aleichem,' was broadcast in Estonia. In 1991 the Jewish religious community and KJCE had a joined meeting, where it was decided to found the Jewish Community of Estonia.

18 Moskvitch

Meaning 'a man from Moscow', Moskvitch was a Soviet-made car, popular in the entire post-war communist world. As reparation the Soviet Union received the complete manufacturing line of Opel Kadett after WWII and it was taken to Moscow from Russelheim (American Zone) in 1946. The new Soviet plant MZMA (Moskovsky Zavod Malolitrazhnykh Avtomobiley), meaning 'Midge Car Works of Moscow' started producing Moskvitch 400 based on Opel Kadett in 1947. Further models were developed by Soviet engineers later on. In 1969 the plant changed its name to AZLK (Avtomobilny Zavod imeni Leninskogo Komsomola), meaning 'The Lenin Komsomol Auto Works'. Moskvitch cars were always somewhat sturdy but reliable on substandard roads; they were offered at an affordable price. A modernized line of Moskvitch models started in 1988. But the markets failed during the 1990s, and in 2002, AZLK went into bankruptcy. Plans to restart the factory have so far not succeeded. (Sources: http://www.opelclub.com/html/back_from_oblivion.html and <http://www.opelclub.com/html/back_from_oblivion.html%20and> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moskvitch)

19 NKVD

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

20 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.

21 The Supreme Soviet

'Verhovniy Soviet', comprised the highest legislative body in the Soviet Union and the only one with the power to pass constitutional amendments. It elected the Presidium, formed the Supreme Court, and appointed the Procurator General of the USSR. It was made up of two chambers, each with equal legislative powers, with members elected for five-year terms: the Soviet of the Union, elected on the basis of population with one deputy for every 300,000 people in the Soviet federation, the Soviet of Nationalities, supposed to represent the ethnic populations, with members elected on the basis of 25 deputies from each of the 15 republic of the union, 11 from each autonomous republic, five from each autonomous region, and one from each autonomous area.  22 Righteous Among the Nations: A medal and honorary title awarded to people who during the Holocaust selflessly and for humanitarian reasons helped Jews. It was instituted in 1953. Awarded by a special commission headed by a justice of the Israeli Supreme Court, which works in the Yad Vashem National Remembrance Institute in Jerusalem. During the ceremony the persons recognized receive a diploma and a medal with the inscription "Whoever saves one life, saves the entire world" and plant a tree in the Avenue of the Righteous on the Remembrance Hill in Jerusalem, which is marked with plaques bearing their names. Since 1985 the Righteous receive honorary citizenship of Israel. So far over 20,000 people have been distinguished with the title, including almost 6,000 Poles.  
23 Yad Vashem: This museum, founded in 1953 in Jerusalem, honors both Holocaust martyrs and 'the Righteous Among the Nations', non-Jewish rescuers who have been recognized for their 'compassion, courage and morality'.

24 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.

25 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.

26 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.

27 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.

28 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.

29 Lotman, Yuri (1922-1993)

One of the greatest semioticians and literary scholars. In 1950 he received his degree from the Philology Department of Leningrad University but was unable to continue with his post-graduate studies as a result of the campaign against 'cosmopolitans' and the wave of anti-Semitism in the Soviet Union. Lotman managed to find a job in Tartu, Estonia. Starting in 1950, he taught Russian literature at Tartu University, and from 1960-77 he was the head of the Department of Russian Literature. He did active research work and is the author of over 800 books and academic articles on the history of Russian literature and public thought, on literary theory, on the history of Russian culture, and on semiotics. He was an elected member of the British Royal Society, Norwegian Royal Academy, and many other academic societies.

30 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.

31 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.

32 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.

33 Gorbachev, Mikhail (1931- )

Soviet political leader. Gorbachev joined the Communist Party in 1952 and gradually moved up in the party hierarchy. In 1970 he was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, where he remained until 1990. In 1980 he joined the politburo, and in 1985 he was appointed general secretary of the party. In 1986 he embarked on a comprehensive program of political, economic, and social liberalization under the slogans of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). The government released political prisoners, allowed increased emigration, attacked corruption, and encouraged the critical reexamination of Soviet history. The Congress of People's Deputies, founded in 1989, voted to end the Communist Party's control over the government and elected Gorbachev executive president. Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party and granted the Baltic states independence. Following the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991, he resigned as president. Since 1992, Gorbachev has headed international organizations.)

34 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.

35 Iron Curtain

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

36 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 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.

37 1991 Moscow coup d'etat

Starting spontaneously on the streets of Moscow, its leaders went public on 19th August. TASS (Soviet Telegraphical Agency) made an announcement that Gorbachev had been relieved of his duties for health reasons. His powers were assumed by Vice President Gennady Yanayev. A State Committee on the State of Emergency (GKChP) was established, led by eight officials, including KGB head Vladimir Kryuchkov, Soviet Prime Minister Valentin Pavlov, and Defense Minister Dmitry Yazov. Seizing on President Mikhail Gorbachev's summer absence from the capital, eight of the Soviet leader's most trusted ministers attempted to take control of the government. Within three days, the poorly planned coup collapsed and Gorbachev returned to the Kremlin. But an era had abruptly ended. The Soviet Union, which the coup plotters had desperately tried to save, was dead.

38 National Front

A social organization founded in Estonia in April 1988. The activities of the National Front contributed to the restoration of Estonian independence. Similar fronts existed in Latvia and Lithuania.
39 Reestablishment of the Estonian Republic: According to the referendum conducted in the Baltic Republics in March 1991, 77.8 percent of participating Estonian residents supported the restoration of Estonian state independence. On 20th August 1991, at the time of the coup attempt in Moscow, the Estonian Republic's Supreme Council issued the Decree of Estonian Independence. On 6th September 1991, the USSR's State Council recognized full independence of Estonia, and the country was accepted into the UN on 17th September 1991.

Julianna Sharik

Juliana Sharik
Tallinn
Estonia
Interviewer: Ella Levitskaya
Date of interview: March 2006

I interviewed Juliana Sharik in her place. Many people, who knew her and her family, told me about them with admiration. One of her former students, who is studying at the Jewish school now, talked about her as if she was her relative. It was hard to believe that a student would say such words about her teacher. When I met Juliana, I understood that she was sincere. One cannot help loving Juliana. She is very sincere, outgoing, kind and friendly. She and her husband keep their doors open. All their guests feel at home in their place. Juliana is petite and agile. She has cropped, curly hair and dark eyes. She looks younger than her age.

My family

During the war

Postwar years

Life under the communist regime

Marriage and children

Later years

Glossary

My family

My paternal grandfather, Julius Kann, was born in Moscow. There is nothing I know about his parents. When he was young, he came from Moscow to Tartu [Estonia, about 170 km east of Tallinn]. The matter is that there was a 5% admission quota at educational institutions for the Jews 1. No more than 5% of Jews could be enrolled for a course at the university. Strange as it may be, there was no quota in Estonia, although it was a part of Tsarist Russia before the revolution of 1917 2.

The southern part of Estonia together with the north of Latvia was Lifland province of Russia, and the northern part of Estonia was Estland province. Estonia was kind of detached from Russia. There were no Jewish pogroms in Estonia 3, which were customary in Ukraine and Russia, especially beginning from 1905. There were no restrictions with regard to the occupation, there was no pale of settlement 4, which existed in the entire Russian empire. Probably, many young Jews came to study in Estonia, especially in the famous Tartu University.

My grandfather Julius Kann became a student of the Medical Faculty of Tartu University. I think that I was very lucky to find out about the adolescence of my grandpa, and not very many people can boast of that. The famous Russian writer Veresaev, who also studied in Tartu, left a very bright portrait of my grandfather during his student years. It was just a small fragment of his life, but very bright and extraordinary. [Editor’s note: Veresaev was a pseudonym, the writer’s real name was Smidovich, Vikentiy Vikentievich, born in Tula in 1867, and died in Moscow in 1945. He was born into the family of a doctor. In 1888 he graduated from the History and Philology Department of Saint Petersburg University and in 1894 – from the Medical Department of Derpt (now Tartu) University. The semi-autobiographical ‘Memoirs of a Physician,’», published in 1901, was his most successful book.

Since Veresaev was the only witness of my grandfather’s adolescence to tell the true facts, I think it would be appropriate to cite an excerpt from his story – recollections from his student life in Tartu in which Grandpa Julius Kann was also mentioned. The only thing that is not true is the fact that Veresaev thought my grandpa to be a German Jew. Maybe his ancestors moved to Russia from Germany, but Grandpa was born in Moscow. In any case, here’s what Veresaev wrote:

“There was a student at the Medical Department – Julius Kann, a German Jew. He was of medium height, a slender, handsome guy with bright eyes, adroit like a cat, strong and frantically brave. He was very good at fencing, a good marksman. He was a person, who was not submissive, and flung a gauntlet to the offender. Soon he became famous for being bellicose and students started fearing him. He became a legend in the city.

One spring evening he was passing by the students’ pub with two Jews. Farbentreiger, one huge guy who was sitting in the pub, called them kikes. Julius Kann darted into the caboodle and slapped the offender hard. The students recognized him and vanished. The student who was slapped took out a pistol. Kann rushed to him and took the pistol from him. The guy started running away, and Kann dashed after him. The student asked him hastily: ‘What’s your name?’ It meant that he flung him a gauntlet. Since that moment all further hostile actions should be stopped. Kann took him by the collar and started beating him on the neck with the hilt of the pistol that he had taken away from him, and said: ‘My name is Julius Kann, I live on 20 Machtstrasse, and my name is Kann!’”

My grandfather had two sisters, Anna and Minna, and two brothers. I only knew one of them – David. After the revolution all my father’s kin happened to be in Soviet Russia and we stopped keeping in touch with them for a while [because it was dangerous to keep in touch with relatives abroad] 5. I cannot recall any information about my grandfather’s sisters and brother. But we were very close with the family of Grandfather’s brother David’s family. Of course, we renewed our relationship after 1940 when Estonia became Soviet [cf. Occupation of the Baltic Republics] 6. Earlier it was dangerous to keep in touch with relatives abroad as Estonia was bourgeois. That is why we did not even try to look for anybody.

David had died a while ago and his widow Raisa was still alive. She lived in Leningrad. They were married only for a year when David died. They did not have children and Raisa considered us to be her relatives. She lived a long life. She and her daughter Irina, born in her second marriage, were very close to us. Aunt Raisa considered my father to be her nephew, though they were not related by blood. Father and Irina thought themselves to be natural cousins. They were very friendly and saw each other every summer. Aunt Raisa received our entire family. She died in the 1990s and her daughter Irina died in 2002.

Grandfather got married in Tartu after he graduated from university. I do not know much about my grandmother Fanni Kann. I do not even remember her, though I have a picture where she is holding me in her arms. I cannot recall her maiden name. She was a pianist. She did not give concerts, but taught music. I knew a lot of Tartu Jews who were her students. Judging by their stories, she was a very good teacher. Grandfather practiced medicine. They had two children: daughter Nata and a son, my father-to-be, Alexander.

Father was born in 1909. Nata was three years older than my father. She was born in 1906. Grandfather had his own house on 20 Kalvi Street in Tartu. It is still there. Now the firefighters are based there. All Tartu inhabitants knew the house of the Kanns. It was always open for people who needed shelter and food. Poor students of Tartu University often lived in Grandfather’s house. Of course, they felt like friends of the family. They did not pay anything for the accommodation.

The Kanns spoke several languages. There was a strict order – a certain language was spoken with the children by each parent. Grandfather spoke only Russian with us, and Grandmother only German. When Nata grew up, her duty was to speak English with her younger brother. Of course, there must have been great organizational skills and will to do so. As a result, the children had a chance to speak several languages fluently. Naturally, all of us knew Estonian as it was the state language. As far as I understand, my grandparents were religious people. Maybe they were not pious, but they strictly followed Jewish traditions, judging by my father.

Nata and my father studied in the Russian lyceum in Tartu. Having finished the lyceum, my father entered the Legal Department of Tartu University. Father was always a very sociable and charming man. He enchanted people. There were a lot of young people in his house – friends and pals of Nata and my father. Father joined the Jewish student organization Limuvia at Tartu University. There were two Jewish male student organizations: Khasmonea and Limuvia. Khasmonea was stricter, more Zionist. Limuvia was famous for fun. It mostly attracted students from well-off families. Every organization had its own coat of arms, statute and even uniform. The members of the organization always put the badge with the coat of arms on their uniforms.

In the early 1930s Nata left for Paris, France. There she met a young man, an immigrant from Russia called Sergey and married him. Nata and her husband had a traditional Jewish wedding. My grandparents and father went there. At that time Father was a student. He met my mom in Paris at the wedding party of his elder sister.

Strange as it may be, my mother’s family as well as my father’s had the surname of Kann, but they were not relatives. They had actually never seen each other before. They just happened to share the same surname. My mother’s family lived in Moscow before their departure for France.

I do not remember the name of my maternal grandfather, but as far as I recall Grandmother’s name was Beatrice. She had two sisters, Genriette and Catherine. Genriette – married name Gershman – was the most beautiful of the sisters. Grandmother’s family was mundane. Artists, actors and writers got together in their house. The famous Russian artists Serov and Somov were habitués of their house. [Serov, Valentin Alexandrovich (1865-1911), one of the most eminent Russian portrait painters of his era. Somov, Konstantin Andreyevich (1869-1939): Russian artist, one of the founders of ‘Mir iskusstva’ (World of Art), a magazine and the artistic movement it inspired and embodied, which was a major influence on the Russians who helped revolutionize European art during the first decade of the 20th century. Following the Russian Revolution, Somov emigrated to the United States, but found the country "absolutely alien to his art" and moved to Paris. He was buried at the Sainte-Geneviève-des-Bois Cemetery. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Konstantin_Somov et al.]

Both of them made several portraits of my grandmother’s sister Genriette Gershman. During the Soviet times the portraits of Genriette and her husband, the merchant Gershman, were exhibited in Tretyakov Gallery [Editor’s note: Tretyakov Gallery is an art gallery in Moscow, founded in 1856, based on the private collection of paintings and sculptures by the most famous Russian artists and sculptors, which was owned by Pavel Tretyakov. The gallery still comprises one of the largest and most considerable art collections in the world.]. Their pictures were displayed next to one another and I still remember the guide, who was leading us through the hall, saying: ‘Here is the portrait of the famous Russian belle Genriette Gershman, a charming and elegant woman. Here is the portrait of her husband, the rich merchant Gershman. Take a look, what an arrogant and unpleasant face!’ During the Soviet times the faces of capitalists could not be pleasant, you see. The guides changed with time, but their text remained the same. Besides, there are four or five extent portraits of Genriette, but they were not exhibited. They must be in the stock of the museum.

Mother’s parents were rich, they were not nouveau riche, but well-mannered secular people. There were three daughters in the Kann family and all of them had Russian names. My mother Olga was the eldest. She was born in 1911. Her middle sister, Ksenia, was born in 1912, and the youngest, Elena, was born in 1914. The family immigrated to France in 1916. Grandmother’s sisters and their families moved there as well. I do not know the details as they were concealed in Soviet times.

All facts were revealed to me during my first trip to France in 1978. Neither Grandmother nor Genriette were still alive, I only saw Grandmother’s younger sister Catherine. She had lived in France almost all her life. I saw an open Russian journal on her sofa. She was reading Solzhenitsyn 7. She was aware of the things going on in the USSR and took an interest in that. When I came to Paris, I was not a child anymore. I was 40. The stories about my family told by Catherine and my aunts were a real discovery for me. During the Soviet times my parents were frightened by the Soviet regime and thought that the less I knew the best it would be for me.

Going back to the life of my mother’s family in the immigration, I should say that they left before the revolution of 1917, so they did not have to leave in a stampede, saving their lives. I think they were able to take money and precious things. At any rate, the family did not scrape through in France. All the daughters got very good education. Mother studied at the prestigious French lyceum. Then Grandpa made arrangements for her to study in Germany. Mother was the most beautiful out of all the daughters and Grandfather really pampered her. French was a native language for my mother. It was amazing that the Russian language was also spoken in their family. The middle sister, Ksenia, could speak and write in Russian. The youngest Elena, could not write, she did not even know the alphabet, but she spoke fluent Russian, though with a French accent.

Somehow my mother made friends with my father’s sister Nata. My parents met at her wedding and fell in love with each other instantly. Father had to finish his studies at the university. He stayed in Paris for a little bit and then left for Tartu. Mother and he decided that they were going to get married. They were separated for a little while. Mother was not willing to wait for Father to finish his studies and come to Paris. In 1934 she went to Tartu. Her parents were shocked. My maternal grandmother was sure that her favorite daughter was leaving for a village, where cows were walking along the streets. Mother promised Grandmother that she would return to Paris upon her fiancé’s graduation. My parents got married, when Mother came to Tartu. They had a true Jewish wedding with numerous guests. After the wedding they settled in Grandfather’s house. Their house was large. There was enough room for everybody.

Mother picked up Estonian very quickly after she arrived in Tartu. She tried speaking the language as soon as she came. She had no complexes. I teach English and know how often people who have a pretty good vocabulary are afraid to speak a language, thinking that they will appear preposterous with their mistakes. Mother did not fear to be laughed at and was comfortable in any situation. It must have been her French upbringing. She thought herself to be worthy of respect and attention. Mother was fluent in Russian, German and French. Those languages would have been enough for her to communicate with people in Estonia, but she thought it was necessary for her to study Estonian as well. Her friends said that everybody burst into laughter when she was taking her first steps in studying the language, but she did not feel embarrassed. Soon, she was well up in the language.

I do not know for sure what Father did in Tartu upon his graduation. Once, Mother mentioned casually that he owned a sawmill. At any rate, they stayed in Tartu for a little bit after Father had finished his studies. Of course, they planned on leaving for France, but postponed their trip. Maybe it was connected with the fact that Grandfather Julius was getting sick and Father was not willing to leave him. I do not know. Grandfather died in 1937, when my mother was pregnant. He was buried in Tartu Jewish cemetery. Crowds of people came to his funeral. He was loved and known in Tartu. Besides, many Tartu denizens were his patients. I was born on 20th June 1938 and named Juliana after my grandfather.

After I was born, Grandmother Fanni went to France to her daughter Nata. I do not know when it happened exactly. There is a picture dating back to 1938, when my grandmother was holding me in her hands. She probably could not have left later because in 1939 France was occupied by the Germans. She must have left in 1938. Mother wanted me to grow up a little bit as she did not want to take an overseas trip with an infant. They decided to go after I had turned one. When I reached that age, we could not leave as Europe was occupied by fascists.

In 1940 Estonia became Soviet and we could not hope for better times. Thus, it happened that my mother was the only from her family who was living in the Soviet Union being severed from her kin. When Grandmother Fanni left, mother also visited her relatives in Paris. She took a train across fascist Germany. Nothing happened to her during her round trip. Mother was so beautiful and feminine that even German officers courted her. Mother said that on her way to Germany, one German officer tried to talk her into putting on a small swastika for protection. Of course, Mother did not do that.

Father told me that there was anti-Semitism in the Estonian Republic 8, but not on the state level. There was a café in Tallinn at Liberty Square, where Jews were denied access. There were a lot of cafes, and only one banned Jews. Of course, it was the owner who was responsible for it, not the state. I do not think Jews were hurt by that. They had their own life with hardly any bans. Since 1926 a Jewish cultural autonomy 9 was effective in Estonia. It gave Jews the right for self-government. Father said good words about that time. Such trifles as that café also made life more colorful.

Anti-Semitism was all over the world no matter how people fought it. Nobody could eradicate it. But it was not at the state level. In every day life there were cases with anti-Semitists. I think they will take place in the future as well. I often go to France and always hear a message that they bombed some Jewish store or café, that the target was Friedman or Fishman. It was common. We must have got used to that, but we do not want to do that. Israel is probably the only country in the world where there is no anti-Semitism. There is another thing there: people are classified into locals and repatriates, Orthodox and infidels. There is a segregation there as well. Human nature is such that people need to hate and blame someone for everything as if they would not be able to live without it.

In 1940 my parents moved to Tallinn from Tartu. We did not discuss the reasons for that. Now I understand that it was their fear. They must have been afraid to stay in Tartu as everybody knew them there. The family was rather famous and rich. I think, if my parents had stayed in Tartu, we would not have spent our life in Estonia, but in Siberian exile. We were deeply affected by the Soviet regime. On 14th June 1941 the Soviets deported 10,000 people 10 from Estonia. My parents’ pals were among them. Our family was not touched.

During the war

On 20th June 1941 it was my birthday. I turned three and two days later the war began 11. We found out from the radio that Germany had attacked the Soviet Union without having declared war. Mother was not going to leave. She did not even want to hear of evacuation. Mother would have never left Tallinn if it had not been for Father. She was so beautiful, so well-groomed and loved comfort so much. Of course, she understood what fascism was, but she could not envisage that someone would harm her personally. Father forced her to pack her things and pulled her to the train station, where the trains were ready for departure. He fully takes credit for our survival. There were very many Jews in Estonia, who did not believe the stories about the atrocities of the fascists. They stayed and died. Only few of them were able to survive by miracle.

Father was mobilized. He was not taken into the acting army as he had poor eyesight. He was on the front, but served as a clerk at the headquarters of Estonian corps 12. Mother and I reached Ulianovsk [now Simbirsk, Russia, about 750 km northeast of Moscow]. We were told to go there, but we did not stay for long. We were housed in a poky room in a small wooden house, where another family was living. Mother was shocked when we spent the first night there. She could not fall asleep. She turned the lights on and saw the walls were covered with some small bugs. Mother had never seen bedbugs before and could not understand what it was. She started brandishing her arms trying to get rid of the bedbugs, but they did not leave. The hosts saw that the lights were on and came to us. Mother asked them about the bugs on the wall and they burst into laughter, astonished that she had never seen bedbugs before! Mother took her sleeping child and rushed out of the house. We spent a night outside and in the morning we moved into another house.

We had to go though many things. Soon we left Ulianovsk for Krasnoural'sk [Sverdlovsk oblast, Russia, about 1,500 km north of Moscow]. We stayed there for a while. I remember there was terrible starvation. I and other evacuated children went to the field to steal frozen potatoes. We used wooden chips to dig out potatoes from the frozen soil. Then we hid at home and gnawed on those frozen, dirty, raw potatoes. We also picked up nettle and other herbs, from which soup was made. We even did not always have a chance to salt it. We had a constant feeling of hunger. Now when I am going back to that time, I cannot picture how we managed to survive.

Mother did not learn how to do things about the house even at an elderly age. She even did not know how to pare potatoes. It was funny to watch how she tried washing some small things, even kerchiefs. I had friends in evacuation, whose urban mothers got adjusted to the life in evacuation. They planted some things. One even got a goat, to give milk to her child. My mother did not learn anything. That is why it is totally unexplainable for me how we could survive in evacuation with my mother being so helpless. There might be one explanation though. Mother was not good at doing things, but she was very sociable and people liked her. She was so fragile and feminine, not like anybody else. That is why people were always ready to help her. I think we were helped by others. We would not have survived otherwise.

There was a period of time when the things we took with us were very handy. Mother had very beautiful dresses, jewelry. She could sell them in exchange for products. Of course, we were not barefoot and naked, but there was no luxury. All was good at that time, no matter what outfit it was. Mother wore a dreadful jersey coat and felt calm about it. To survive was the most important thing at that time.

At the end of 1943 Father found us. He was in Sverdlovsk [now Ekaterinburg, Russia, about 1,500 km from Moscow]. Mother received a telegram from him, in which he told us to come to Sverdlovsk. We had no money for the trip and Mother wrote Father about it. He said that she should sell anything she could, including food cards 13, and leave right away.

There was a dreadful story in connection with that. Mother went to the market to find out the price for the food cards and started selling them cheaper. There was a huge crowd around her and all of them were crying out: to me, to me, to me! A man came up to my mom and asked what she was doing. She said she was selling food cards to get money for the trip to her husband. That man showed her his NKVD 14 ID, grabbed my mother’s hand and pulled her out from the market. Mother said that the whole crowd from the market chased them asking to let her go as she was so young and did not do anything wrong.

Mother was in great danger. During the war time it was a crime to sell food cards, and she would have been put in jail at best. She was lucky. That man had her stay by some house and he went to make a phone call. Mother darted out. She said she never ran so fast. She had left me with the neighbor, a Polish lady. She came to her and told her the story. The Polish lady gave my mother a hat with a veil and she did not take it off until our departure. There was a rumor in town that Olga was arrested as many people saw her being convoyed from the market. All of them thought that she perished as nobody could assume that she managed to run away from the NKVD.

Father was demobilized from the army. He lived with us in Sverdlovsk. There was terrible starvation there as well. I went to the kindergarten where we were fed. I remember I was shaved bald on my first day at the kindergarten, for me not to be lice-ridden. I felt hungry all the time in Sverdlovsk again. I came home from kindergarten and asked for bread at night. Father gave me his entire ration. He was almost dying because of lack of food. He held on to the walls of houses when he walked in the streets in order not to swoon, but still he gave his bread ration to me. I was a little foolish girl, who could not understand those things.

I remember a funny case from that time. One lady fell in love with my dad and invited him to come over for breakfast. Mother tried making him look good as he was going to the guest! It turned out that the lady had been collecting skims from milk for several days to give them to Father. She put them in the tea. Father could not stand them since childhood, and even the feeling of hunger and feeling of being awkward towards the lady, who was trying to treat him well, he could not swallow them.

Then my mother was called to Egorievsk. There was an Estonian complex, where they trained people to work in Soviet Estonia so that the experts were ready after the war. Thus, we settled there. There was enough food and primary goods. We got parcels with food and clothes. [Lend-Lease was the program under which the United States of America supplied the United Kingdom, the Soviet Union, China, Free France, and other Allied nations with materiel between 1941 and 1945. It was signed into law on March 11, 1941, a year and a half after the outbreak of World War II in Europe in September 1939 but nine months before the U.S. entered the war in December 1941. Formally titled ‘An Act to Further Promote the Defense of the United States,’ the Act effectively ended the United States' pretense of neutrality. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lend-Lease] I remember that some Estonians were frying a piglet and potatoes in the yard of a hostel. We were not hungry there.

I do not know what Mother studied. I spend time with the children of other students. We crawled in some trenches and looked for bullets. Once, I fell in the moat in the sewage. Mother ran after me so that I would change clothes, which she washed so unskillfully. Father returned to Tallinn in the fall of 1944 right after the liberation of Tallinn. Mother and I came back in December 1944.

Postwar years

The house, where we lived before war, burned down during the bombing. Father was one of the first to come back to Tallinn. Most people who were among the first to return, got settled well, getting good apartments in downtown Tallinn, in plush pre-war houses. We also settled in a huge, posh apartment in the city. We lived there for a year. Then the owners came back. We had to leave. There was a problem with housing in Tallinn. We were given one room in a communal apartment 15 at Jacobson Street. We stayed there for a long time.

When we had just arrived in Tallinn, I could not speak Estonian at all. I left for evacuation at the age of three and lived in Russia for three years. I came back at the age of six and was to go to school in a year. Of course, after my arrival I quickly made friends with Russian children and played with them. Once, Father told me that I would not play with Russian children any more, and showed me with whom to play. He agreed with an Estonian family, who was living in our yard, that their daughter would play with me speaking Estonian. Both of us disliked each other at first, as we were forced into communication, which was a burden for both of us. How could we be playmates and friends if we could not understand each other? We got by with that since we did not have a way out. Gradually we became friends. I learned the language within half a year as in summer I did not play with that girl any more. I went to a summer camp for children.

In September 1945 I went to the first grade of an Estonian school. I managed to finish the first grade before we had to leave the apartment. The school I went to was not far from our house. Father transferred me to a Russian school. He was calm that both of us knew both the Estonian and Russian languages. 

When I was transferred to the Russian school, I was shocked by the difference between Estonian and Russian kids. There were only Estonians at the school where I used to go. The children were neat and calm. They had stayed in the country during the war and had a good life. I was the only Jew in my class and stood out. All of them were fair-haired and I was the only dark-haired one, but I was treated very well. Even girls from senior grades patronized me. The kids in the Russian school were different, they even had a different countenance. They were poorly dressed. Though, I was also. I became a pioneer 16 at school, one of the first in my class. I was always very active. I took pride in my pioneer scarf.

Our apartment was terrible, damp and cold. My father was not a pusher. He was very modest, too decent. I do not know how my parents managed to exchange our apartment for two rooms in the semi-basement in a house in downtown Tallinn. There was a cement floor in the kitchen. There was a bathroom and a toilet, but we had to warm water on the stove to take a bath. By the way, our neighbors were the Shariks, the family of my future husband. We had lived for several years there and exchanged the apartment by mere luck. My classmate’s mother divorced her husband. They wanted her husband to move out into a bad apartment. Our apartment suited her in those terms. He moved in there and we got settled in two rooms of my classmate’s apartment. It was a good house in downtown Tallinn. We liked it there.

I was a Soviet child, who did not know Jewish traditions, religion. I know that children were raised Jewish in certain Jewish families, but it did not happen in our family. Mother was not religious, though she said that she believed in God. At the same time, she loved Christmas, because it was always richly celebrated in France. Therefore, when speaking of my mom, it would be funny to mention Jewish religiousness. She was a European woman. I think, all Jewish traditions were kept in my father’s family and imbibed in them since childhood.

Father was very circumspect and did not trust the Soviet regime. He wanted to guard me from possible trouble as the Soviet regime struggled against religion 17. I was a convinced pioneer and later a Komsomol member 18. I was very active, living like anybody else. Now I cannot delete that part of my life saying that it had never happened to me. This is the way it was. Father probably did not want me to prevaricate and we did not discuss Jewish traditions at home. In general, we did not speak much.

I remember very well from my post-war childhood that there was matzah, boiled eggs and saucers with salted water in some houses. I remember that my father went to fetch matzah from the prayer house, based in the former school premises. I remember it vividly. I did not know what matzah was for and on which days it appeared. I asked no questions. I took no interest in that. We never concealed the fact that we were Jews. I was aware of that and did not hold it back. It was even silly at times. Even in summer, when we were on vacation, and went to the Southern Caucasus bazaar, I was called by some of the salespeople: ‘Hey, countrywoman, come over!’ – I replied, ‘I am not your countrywoman, I am a Jew.’

Father was loyal to the Jewry and its traditions. He helped anyone, Jews in particular. If there was a sorrow in any Jewish family, everybody knew that Alexander Kann would be in café Chario collecting money from the Jews for assistance. People came and gave as much as they could. Father always remembered if some of the well-off people did not bring money. He did not forgive such people. He was an amazing man: kind, decent and polite. Nobody can say a bad word about him. He was a man of principle. No matter how soft he might have been, when someone was dishonest, he stopped greeting the person. I remember he said in such cases: ‘I am not taking my hat off to that person.’

Of course, my father understood what was in store for the family during the Soviet regime. He never discussed it with me. I do not think he even talked to my mom about it. I recall, after the war my father would stay by the window at nighttime and look out for a long time. I remember how worried he was when he heard the sound of a car engine at nighttime and his feeling of relief when the car left. Probably, he expected that he could be arrested any time. If somebody from the NKVD had known who the Kann family really was, they would have exiled us, but we got away.

At times, I could feel alarm in my father’s words and phrases, but he never was explicit. It was customary in many Estonian families to discuss all events and concerns, but it was different in our family. Father must have tried to bar us from reality. At that time he understood many things, which I started understanding only with age. At that time Stalin’s portrait hung next to Pushkin’s 19. Father did not say anything to that and did not ask me to take Stalin’s portrait off the wall. Then I understood that it was hard for him.

When the campaign against cosmopolitans 20 started in the USSR in 1948, we did not discuss those things at home. I also noticed that at times Father whispered about something with his friends. My parents had a lot of friends. Once a week they got together to play bridge. Very often guests came over not only on holidays and birthdays, but without any occasion: when they simply wanted to see my parents. They had a wonderful company of friends. When all of them got together, our house was full of people. Our living was very moderate, but we always found money to treat our guest. Our table was never empty. It was usual for us to have 30 people in our place. All of them were very funny, quirky and friendly. They also arranged some trips, jaunts etc. It was a good and joyful life.

We lacked money. Mother found a way to have some decent outfits, but I dressed very poorly. I had one school dress, which had patches and was too tight for me. I remember, when my future mother-in-law saw me, a schoolgirl, in that dress, she burst into tears. I was calm about it. Mother did not learn how to cook. Of course, Father was always ready to help her. I knew how to cook since the fifth grade and fixed dinner in time for my parents’ arrival from work.

In 1948 the state of Israel was founded 21. It did not mean anything to me while my father was glad about it. Despite the fact that the Soviet Union was one of the initiators of the foundation of the state of Israel, the relationship between the countries worsened very quickly. There were numerous articles and radio broadcasts about Israel the aggressor and its threat to the world. I could see by my father’s facial expression that something was wrong, but he never commented on anything.

I started comprehending some things only in 1953 when the Doctors’ Plot 21 started. At that time I could hear from all ends that there were doctors/poisoners. I was more mature and understood more. I understood that the Doctors’ Plot was connected with the Jews, and many people were against them. It was very vivid at that time. Frankly speaking, I cannot say that I took it hard. It was somewhere in my subconsciousness, but my life was not affected by that. I was always confident that I had many friends.

When we came back to Tallinn my father became a legal advisor at the large Tallinn radio plant Volta, then he was hired by the Ministry of Commerce as an assistant to the minister in legal issues. Mother did not have any profession and my beautiful, elegant mom started to work as an authorized representative at Vtorsyrio. [The company’s name originates from the words "secondary raw materials." The firm took scrap metal and paper litter from the population at dirt cheap prices and sent those materials to processing facilities]. She went to the plants and arranged for the scrap metal to be loaded in the company’s truck. She worked there for a while. There were other types of jobs approximately of the same level.

Mother was not very young any more. She was hired by the textile factory Marat as a secretary. She was fluent in several languages. She was proficient in French, which was actually her mother tongue. She had no accent, neither in German nor in French, no matter that she had lived in Estonia for such a long time. Strange as it may be, but my mother had a Russian accent in her English and Estonian, but she was fluent in all those languages. She also did translations, even simultaneous translations at the cinema. Her English was not as literary, but colloquial, and was not as nice.

I went to a Russian school for three years, from the second to the fourth grade. Then I was transferred to another school, when our apartment was exchanged. In post-war times girls studied separately from boys and I went to girls’ schools. There was a good Russian school not far from our house. It was in the heart of the city and children from wealthy families of the secretaries of regional authorities, ministers, top managers etc. went to that school. Of course, it was because of the close vicinity to the school.

Our class was wonderful, very good girls. I cannot say that I had an inferiority complex, but there were unpleasant moments for me. All of them were very well dressed, but I had to wear a dress with patches. I did not worry about it when I went to school, but it was a real issue when going out, but it did not happen every day, so it was not a big deal. But still, I did not feel that I was worse than anybody else. Moreover, my classmates had a very good attitude towards me. All of them came from rich families, but they did not care about it. The girl I shared a desk with gave everybody sandwiches with caviar, just because she was fed up with them and she cared for a roll one could buy in the school cafeteria.

Life under the communist regime

I had many friends, and not only in school. I met some of them in pioneer camps. I was always very active at school. When I joined the Komsomol, I became the Komsomol leader in my class, and then the leader of the Komsomol organization at school. I had no self interest, I just believed in what I was doing. I was only two, when Estonia became Soviet and I was raised by the Soviet regime. My family did not speak against the Soviet regime, so I fully accepted it and truly believed in it.

Stalin died in March 1953. I remember we had a solemn line-up at school, where all of us cried sincerely. We, raised in the Soviet ideology, thought Stalin to be our idol, taking care of all. It was a great sorrow. After school our class went to the old part of the city and started fooling around. I recall one of my classmates, Oxana, a very emotional girl said, ‘We have just barely stopped crying. What are we doing?’ It was just a relief after a big stress, nobody from us rejoiced in Stalin’s death. It was simply the fact that the youth cannot concentrate on grief for a long time.

Then there was the Twentieth Party Congress 23, Khrushchev’s speech 24. It was hard to accept, it was a real shock just like Stalin’s death. Then I started pondering things over. I dreaded to think about my crushed hopes and belief in Stalin, but still it had not shattered my belief in communist ideas. Later, life became easier. Many bans vanished.

Before Stalin’s death I did not keep in touch with my relatives in France; it was taboo for Soviet citizens to keep in touch with relatives abroad. Father even destroyed all my mother’s educational papers as they were issued in France and in Germany. Father was afraid to keep them and burned them. Once, after Stalin’s death I came home and saw Mother crying. It turned out that she had sent an informational request about her kin to France and got the response that her parents died in 1952, one she perished. My mother’s relatives identified themselves as French and they were rather prosperous. Ksenia’s husband Retanau was very famous in France, he was one of the leaders of the French resistance.

Father’s whole kin perished in France during the war. French people sheltered them, but Grandmother wanted to take a walk. Nobody wanted to let her out explaining that she should stay in as it was dangerous out there. She would not listen, went outside and vanished. Her daughter Nata was waiting for her, but she did not come back. Nata went out to look for her and also vanished. I do not know where Nata’s husband Sergey was at that time, at any rate, he was not with them. Where was he? He must have perished too. Nata also had a little son. He stayed with the French family, who was sheltering them. He was afflicted with TB and died.

In 1966 my father went to France for the first time intending to find his kin. He came back empty-handed as none of them survived. He was only able to find out about their death from the French family that was sheltering them. During the Holocaust, my father’s parents, sister and nephew died. Mother went there with Dad. Later she took frequent trips to France.

When I finished school I was eager to go to Leningrad to enter university, the English language department. The teaching at Tallinn Teachers’ Training Institute was in Estonian, but I had studied at a Russian school. It seemed to me that I would not be able to study in Estonian after the Russian school. Father could not understand why I was leaving Tallinn. He had a different mentality as he was raised in a family where everybody was fluent in several languages. He could not perceive why I should care which language the studies were in. He was flatly against my departure, but I left anyway.

I wanted to have an adult, post-school, independent life. It seemed to me I could achieve everything by myself. I have been like that all my life. I always thought that I could do everything I wanted and always achieved what I wanted. Nobody ever helped me in anything. I did all by myself with blood, sweat and tears. I worked very hard. I think this is the way it should be.

I stayed with Aunt Raisa, my grandfather’s brother’s wife, in Leningrad. My English skills were really pretty good and I got a good mark in English at the entrance exam, which was not enough for admission. I do not know what the reason was for that – my nationality or lack of skill. Judging by my father’s reaction he knew that I would not be able to pass exams in Leningrad and expected such an outcome. As soon as I told him about my decision to go to Leningrad, he did not bring up the subject to me as if he did not care. He must have been on the qui vive because when I came back from the exam he told me to go home right away and do what he says.

Father met me at the train station, took my suite case and told me to go to Tallinn Teachers’ Training Institute immediately with my examination card from Leningrad. I was supposed to take the exam in Estonian. I was asked to write a dictation in Estonian and then the next day – an oral Estonian exam. The rest of the exams were carried over from Leningrad examination card. First I was as enrolled as an eternal student, and in a week I became a full-time student.

I came across anti-Semitism twice in my life. Once a girl called me a kike. It happened in the fourth grade.The second time was in my institute. I studied with Estonians, and in my department the subjects were taught in Estonian. There were hardly any Russians. In the fall we were in a kolkhoz 25, and at that time all students were supposed to help farmers for one month, and that was an obligatory assignment from the university. One Estonian student made some comments on my nationality. I was very upset. I was always very funny and energetic and my Estonian fellow students noticed that something was going on with me. They asked me what it was and I told them. I do not know if they said anything to that student. On New Year’s when we gave presents to each other, she got two bars of laundry soap. It was not me who did it, and I had no idea who it was.

When I started studying in the Estonian environment, there were a lot of things which seemed strange to me. I sincerely believed in the Soviet regime. Of course, now I look at those things differently. I opened my eyes. I cannot say that I was as smart when I was 17-18. Now I understand what a criminal and cruel regime it was, but at that time I really believed everything I was told. My husband kept the letter, which I wrote to him when he was in the army. Yuri was a candidate for the communist party and I sincerely congratulated him in writing, praised his achievement, and took a pride in him.

I am not ashamed for myself and for my coevals. We did not allow ourselves falsehood and wrongfulness. We were sincere without self interest. I am not ashamed of myself. I only feel hurt a little bit as they made fools out of us. It was a good thing that we were not double-faced, when you are one person at home and out of home –a different one. It would be really bad.

I was so shocked when I started keeping with the company of Estonian students. They were so strongly against the Soviet regime and dreamed of the times when the black-and-blue-and-white national Estonian flag would fly at the city hall. They wanted the Soviet regime to collapse. It was so savage for me. I mostly spent time with two Russian girls at the university. We attended chamber music concerts, spent our leisure time together. My parents did not put any bans on my friends. There were both Russians and Estonians among my friends. Nationality did not matter when I was to choose my husband. I cannot say that it was as easy. Father did not share my opinion.

Marriage and children

I had known my husband, Yuri Sharik, since school. We had been friends for eight years before getting married. We went to neighboring schools. It was the time when there were no co-educational institutions. We went to each others’ parties, excursions. We also were living close to one another. We had been friends since our school days and then we understood that we were in love with each other.

Yuri was born in Groznyi in 1937, into the family of a career officer. There were two more daughters, Tatiana and Galina. He was the eldest. In general, due to his father’s military service the family did not stay anywhere for a long time, moving from one place to another. In 1953 Yuri’s father was transferred from Lithuania to Tallinn, where they finally settled down.

Yuri finished school. He was very good at drawing. He really had an artistic talent. After the war, Yuri went to Leningrad to enter the Academy of Arts. His pieces were admitted by the commission. He took one or two exams. Then it turned out that there was a creative competition in the program. Yuri was not ready for it and he did not pass. He came back to Tallinn with the firm intention to work at a plant for a year, get ready for exams and take another attempt to enter the academy the next year.

That year his mother died. His father told Yuri not to enter an institution with full board. He could not think of any institutes as his father was not going to provide for him. Yuri entered military school, but dropped out when he was a freshman. He went to the army, completed his mandatory term and came back to Tallinn. Upon his return he went to police school. I recall, once he asked me out, and then suggested that we should meet in some thinly populated place. I asked him why. He said that he was wearing a cop uniform and he thought that I would not be pleased to be seen with a cop. I told him not to change the place. If he decided to put the uniform on, I said that I would not be ashamed of him. That evening Yuri said that his father refused helping him and forbade his entering an institute. That was the reason for his being in police school.

When my parents found out that I was seeing Yuri, they were shocked, especially my father. He never said openly that he disliked the idea of my seeing a Russian guy. It was not common to discuss things like that, but I understand that he was worried for my future as we were living in a country where deportations, the Doctors’ Plot etc. took place. I was an only child and Father was worried about anything in connection with me. I understand that he thought I would marry a Jew from the intelligentsia, but I ended up dating a Russian cop, the son of a military guy! He must have been very worried about me. I remember at that very time all kinds of Jewish guys started calling me. I do not think it was a mere coincidence. Every time Father tried to persuade me: ‘Well, go to the cinema with him, or to the concert. It is not a big deal, if you go!’ I said no every time.

The fact that I dated Yuri was not a shock for my family only. Tallinn was a small town and all local Jews knew each other. I was easily recognized by my tresses: long, black and thick. Since childhood I heard people whispering behind my back: ‘Take a look at her tresses!’ When I was 35-40 and had cropped hair I still was asked: ‘Was that you with those thick tresses?’ Even people from the theaters came up to me and asked me to give them my tresses if I decided to cut them. Those people who did not know me personally recognized me by my tresses. They saw me with Yuri all the time. Thus, Tallinn Jews were really shocked that Yulenka Kann, a lady from such a good Jewish family, was going to marry a Russian, a cop to boot! The whole town was roaring. Such mixed marriages were rare; I was probably one of the first among aboriginal Estonian Jews to do that. When we were at a symphonic concert we heard the whisper behind our backs: ‘Look, these are Yulenka Kann and her husband-to-be!’

Mother was not as alarmed by my decision as father was. At least she did not show it. She could have gone to the bathroom and cried for nobody to see her tears. But still, I think she was calmer about it than my father. In general, he was more concerned than Mom. He was different. Dad was a great person, and I loved him more than anybody else. It was the hardest for me to get along with him as our characters were alike. I was stubborn, and there was no way stopping me when I had made up my mind, and my father was like that too. I lived in the same apartment as my father and we did not speak for a year before I got married.

Father never told me that he was against my marriage to a Russian, and was never explicit. He just said that I should wait, postpone my marriage for a while. I was finishing the institute and Yuri was in the first course of militia school. There was not enough money: Yuri got a scholarship of 40 rubles and that was it. Thus, my father said that at first we should start working, make money. He said what kind of family life were we supposed to have, if we did not even have money to buy a chair? He must have hoped that we would part during the period of waiting.

Father was so concerned about my being serious that his friend Joseph Peisis interfered. He was a student of Tartu University when my father was also studying there. They were friends. Joseph was from a very poor family and lived in my grandfather’s house in Tartu. He was in the lines during the war. He survived and came back with numerous military awards. After the war he lived in Riga and kept in touch with his father. Joseph came over pretty often. He was like a member of our family. Joseph called Yuri and they had a long conversation. They had a good talk. Yuri could not get why my father disapproved of our marriage and asked Joseph. He directly told him: because you are Russian. When Yuri came back to Tallinn and told me about it, I was shocked no less than he.

We finally got married in 1961. Father  did not even want to attend our wedding ceremony. Joseph forced him into that. When Joseph met Yuri, he liked him a lot and helped us. I wrote a letter to Father asking him to come. He came to marriage registry office being pallid. I saw that he forced himself. By the way, many years later Yuri told me that some people tried to talk him out of marrying me, saying that a Jewish wife with relatives in France would be a stumbling stone in his career. Yuri was the first from his fellow students who put a wedding ring on his finger. His chief told him to take it off, but he said that he would not take it off.

We moved to Yuri’s place after the wedding. His mother died young, when she was only 46. His elder sister was married and lived separately. I became ‘a stepmother’ for his younger sister. My father-in-law treated me pretty well. I do not know what was in his heart, but it looked like he had a good attitude towards me. We lived in a communal apartment – having one faucet and two toilets for eight apartments. We cleaned the toilet by turns. It was okay, we coped.

When Yuri finished the second course of the police school, he entered the legal extramural department of Leningrad University. Father always used to say that the police school was not an education. Yuri took up the studies to prove to my dad that he could do something.

Our son Andrey was born in December 1963, when Yuri was on his first winter term in Leningrad. Father adored his grandson. My son also loved him. He remembers his grandpa. Father barely knew my daughter Anna, born in 1970. He was very sick. Anna was a baby, when my father died. She could hardly remember him. Father was dying in the hospital. Before he died, he told me that Yuri and he did not become close, but he was calm for me as he knew that my husband was a decent man. Not only my dad changed his opinion with regards to my husband and marriage. My friend Gesya Zaltsman was also going to marry a Russian, but her mother was against it. Gesya asked why she was so upset and mentioned that my marriage was so happy. Her mother replied, ‘Then take her husband and marry him, I would not be against it.’

Father was buried in the Jewish cemetery. It was a natural decision. He did not have a traditional Jewish funeral. He died in 1971, when there was no rabbi in town. When he was alive he blamed the management of the undertakers for stealing money. They took revenge and gave him a bad place at the cemetery.

I remember when in the 1970s immigration of Jews to Israel started. I was surprised to see the intentions of many of our friends to get ready for immigration. At first I simply could not get who was ousting them from motherland. We condemned them, dissuaded them, but still we kept in touch with those who left Estonia and our friendship remained. It was very strange to see close people leave, especially when I could not approve of their decision. We visit each other. Thank God , there is no Iron Curtain 26 any more. It disappeared during Perestroika 27.

I never thought of immigration. I traveled a lot, but I did not want to leave Estonia permanently. First of all, people should immigrate at a young age to fit another life smoothly. Besides, my friends in Estonia were very dear to me as well as other important aspects in Estonia. Probably I would be unable to get acclimatized. I go abroad often, I am given a warm welcome, but still I feel myself a stranger. My home is here. Traveling is good, but permanent abode in other country is not for me.

The first time I was abroad was in France in 1978. Of course, my parents had told me about their trips. But still I was in raptures about Paris. I met my relatives and made friends with Georgette, the daughter of Aunt Ksenia. Her husband Ralf was a pediatrician, a very famous doctor. Ksenia’s son Alan, born in the first marriage, lives in the USA. They have a lot of kids. Alan has four and Georgette has three. Her daughter Natali with two daughters also lives in America. Georgette lives in Paris. Her younger daughter Delphin is still single. She is my daughter’s age, 35 years old. I made friends with everybody. They gave me a warm welcome.

When I came to Paris, I was an ardent stickler of socialism. I remember Ralf’s ironic smile, when I told him how expensive their butter was, and how cheap it was in my country. During my first trip to Paris, my belief in socialism was kind of shattered. I decided to go to the Louvre. I was given the direction. It was supposed to be a 20 minute walk, but it took me 5 hours to get there. I showed up in the Louvre with huge shopping bags. I was zigzagging from one side of Montparnasse Boulevard. It seemed to me I popped into every shop. It was my first day, though I came there for more than a month. I bought some hair pins for my daughters, statuettes of dogs and cats, jeans for my sons etc. All those things that I could not get in my country. It was a shock for me to find out that people live so good with capitalism. Then my outlook started changing.

Later years

Our children were growing up. They went to school and were raised like any other Soviet kids. Both my husband and I worked, but we did not want our children to go to the kindergarten. We hired a baby-sitter, an Estonian lady. She was a very good Estonian lady. She had lived with us for eight years and was almost like a family member. The baby-sitter plied my son with love of nature.

During his school days Andrey decided that he wanted to become a forester. When he finished school, he entered the timber department of Tartu Agricultural Academy. There was no Russian department there. The subjects were taught in Estonian. His Estonian was rather poor and he dropped out after the second course. He had golden hands and he started repairing equipment. Andrey reads a lot, loves music. His marriage did not last long. They did not have children. He did not get married again. He lives by himself in Tallinn.

My daughter lives in Moscow. She does well. She is more energetic. She graduated from the journalism department of Moscow State University 28. She got married and stayed in Moscow. Her married name is Kazmina. She worked as a journalist for a while and things were smooth. Then she switched to the advertisement business and opened up her own agency. She has been in that business for years. Then she was employed by a large computer firm. She is rather successful. Now she is a member of the board of directors, she is marketing director. Anna has a son called Andrey. He was born in 1996. It is a pity that we cannot see each other often, but we talk on the phone quite often.

Soon after my father’s death my mother started living with us. She had always been an ideal of femininity to me. She died at the age of 92. I had never seen her without a manicure, hairdo. She worked until the age of 82. She got up very early in the morning. She ran to the hairdressers at 7am before work. Mother was always very elegant. Sometimes she even looked at herself in the window when she was passing by. Even when she was senile, she had a very fragile figure and feminine gait. Many of my friends and colleagues were enchanted. They came to see us because they liked her.

Mother was a very elderly woman, but still if some foreign delegations came to Marat factory, the director asked my mother to show them Tallinn and spend some time with them. Usually people are more pleased when they are surrounded by younger people, but people treated my mother in a different way. All visitors sent her letters, small souvenirs and ‘thank you’ notes. In general, my mother was charming to everyone.

During the last years of her life, she had remained by herself, as all her friends had died. Then she found friends who were much younger than she. Only in her last year my mother gave up to her age. She did not have such thick hair anymore and started to walk with a stoop. Even at that time she was a true dame, very elegant. I had never seen her in a robe doing some makeup, only in a dress, shoes and with a hairdo.

Mother died in 2003, when Estonia was independent 29, when the Jewish community 30 was acting. We arranged a traditional Jewish funeral for her. All was in line with the rite. The community helped us with that. The Tallinn rabbi read a prayer over her grave the way it is supposed to be in accordance with the tradition.

My husband and I were rapt by Perestroika in the Soviet Union. It was an interesting life. We started finding interest in tedious Soviet papers. There were a great many books, which were banned previously. There was no ban on religion anymore, which was an attribute of the Soviet regime. We liked Gorbachev 31. Finally the Soviet Union had a secretary of the communist party, who was not reading from a piece of paper, but delivered a speech, and spoke pretty good Russian. He spoke about reasonable things, which everybody was interested in. We read a lot and disputed over the things we read.

Yes, it was a wonderful time. Finally, we felt that we had a normal life. No matter what they said about Gorbachev during his reign, I think that he did the right things. He could have done many more good things for the country, if the resistance of the sticklers of the former regime, the seekers of power, had not been so strong. During perestroika the Jewish Community of Estonia was officially registered. It meant a lot. I wish my father had lived to see that.

Right upon graduation, I started teaching English in the evening school. The compulsory and evening school was in one building. It was located on the outskirts of Tallinn, which was the workers’ district. I loved my school very much. Gradually I started teaching both in the evening and compulsory school. Then I was transferred to compulsory school. I worked there for 31 years. I liked my job. There was a very good team. I always got along with the students.

At that time the principals were changed often. Then it turned out that the last principal was tactless towards me. I was so hurt that I decided that it was time for me to leave. Though, later the principal apologized saying that I was the last person she wanted to hurt. But my character played its part: if I decided to leave, I would leave. I worked until summer vacation as I understood that I could not quit in the middle of the year and did not want to make the teachers’ and students’ life more complicated.

In the summer I bumped into my former classmate Viva Glukhovskaya. I knew that she had become the headmistress of the Jewish school, based in the premises of the former Jewish lyceum 32 due to the efforts of the Jewish community. In 1990 the school had just been opened and there were job openings for teachers. It was less than a month before the school year. They said that they really needed an English teacher, but Viva thought that I would be afraid to work for the Jewish school and that my husband would not let me go there. I said that I was the one who tackled issues like that without asking my husband. I said I would make my final decision after taking a look at the school. I said I would go and see if that would suit me. We agreed on the meeting. When I came there, I understood that I was perfectly okay with it.

Since the beginning of the school year, I was employed at the Jewish school. It was very interesting for me. I started taking an interest in Jewish history, traditions, culture. There was a large library there and I started reading the materials that caught my eye. They sent me to the conferences, workshops. I was carried away with new knowledge, bought many books and read them. Since my first days at school I taught Jewish history in English without knowing the subject. I told them honestly that they probably had better knowledge of Jewish history than I and my task was to teach them English with the help of the Jewish theme. I was very fond of that and started finding the textbooks for all levels of the English language, made my own lesson plans.

I went to seminars in America and Sweden and found a lot of useful things for me. I found it all interesting: the topics of discussion, and the people I met. I held a speech during the seminar in Amsterdam. I talked about the methods of teaching in a Jewish school. The audience was very attentive and surprised to hear that it could be done. They even said that my experience should be leveraged by other countries. Then it all calmed down and now there is no system. I developed very many programs, but now there are less English classes and teachers have other worries.

Back then I was involved in the teaching process even in my leisure time and I did it with pleasure. Once a week I gave a Jewish class. I picked a topic for each grade. There was the history of Jewish holidays in the twelfth grade and some small children’s plays about Channukah and Purim were staged with junior classes. There were lessons devoted to famous Jewish activists. On Friday there was an English class with the Jewish theme picked by students. In general, the whole school year was comprised of Jewish studies. Now, my former students say that it was good. They do not have a system like that today.

When the putsch began 33 in the Soviet Union, I was at a conference in America. There were 2000 Jews, and only four of them were from the former Soviet Union, all from Baltic countries: I from Estonia, two ladies from Latvia and one from Lithuania. If it had not been for the putsch, the four of us would have quietly attended the seminar without getting too much attention, but the putsch caused agitation around us and all 2000 participants as well as the journalists of all the papers were surrounding us. We were besieged with questions about our attitude to the putsch, to Gorbachev, our intention to stay in the USA, all kinds of questions. There was a TV set in the hall for us to follow the events. They said we were free to leave the seminar any time and watch the news. If someone found any news in regard to that, they just put notes beneath the door.

A family of American Jews made friends with me. They decided that they should take care of me in the hard times. They had me jump in their car and stay in their place. Before that I gave an interview to a paper. I was asked questions about my life. I said that I was a Komsomol member and did not stick to Jewish traditions. After my interview had been published, I got calls from the editors of different papers and from readers. They were surprised and doubled checked whether they got me right, asked me if could be true that a Jew was unreligious. They could not get it. I was not the first who gave an interview, but I could not understand why they were so surprised. Maybe other people said the things that Americans wanted to hear. I did not want to lie. I honestly said that I had just started taking an interest in Jewish history and traditions.

The telephone was ringing all the time and my American friends were shouting, ‘Juliana, it’s for you again.’ I was always given some pieces of news. My pal, who came to the seminar from Latvia, had a husband who was an activist of the nationalistic Latvian movement. She was worried: if the putschists came to power, he would be killed right away. Of course, I was afraid to hear that there were tanks in Tallinn and bloodshed in Lithuania. There was fear. Then we were relieved when it was over. We are grateful to all Americans for their help, support and care.

The breakup of the Soviet Union [in 1991] was taken for granted by me. If people want to be independent, they should be given a chance. It seems to me that Estonia did not lose from the separation as much as other former republics. I think that the Estonian government did a lot of silly things during that time. I think it happens with all small countries that want to present themselves and want to be respected.

There were also a lot of good things. Our living standard became better despite our age. Both of us are working. I am not employed full time, but my husband is. Our earnings and pension bring not only a comfortable living, but also a chance to travel. Almost every year I go to America and Israel and my husband travels, because we can afford it. Two years ago, I got sick and had to leave my job. I have a couple of private students now. Once a week Yuri works in a Jewish school, the rest of the time in a compulsory school in our district. He teaches law to the senior students.

Unfortunately, we did not get anything when restitution, that is, the returning of the property nationalized by the Soviet regime, began in Estonia. We tried to get money for the house in Tartu, but we got nothing. At that time there were all kinds of things happening with the archive. It turned out that the house did not belong to anybody – according to one archive it belonged to Levin, according to another to some Estonian guy. It was a mess. We did not have money to hire a lawyer, so it went nowhere. The sawmill, owned by my dad, was allegedly leased. It was hard to believe in it, as the family was rich. It would have been strange for them to rent a sawmill or sell a house. Father was not alive any longer and nobody could know for sure. Thus, we only got money for the tools at the sawmill.

The Jewish community formed an essential part of my life, when I was working at school. I put my heart and soul into that. Now, I am bit aloof, but still I feel their heed and care. They never forget to congratulate me, find out how I feel. They invite me for celebrations, give me presents. In general, I am moved by their attitude. On Jewish holidays, my husband and I gladly go to the community. I like the way we mark them. All is done properly. I do not go there for idling.

At times I call on the school. I do not go there often. Everybody is busy in the classes. I just walk there, give hugs and kisses. There is not enough time to chat with everybody during the break, and I do not want to interrupt the teaching process. My husband works there on Fridays, so I ask him to say hi to everybody I know. In the evening he says hello from my colleagues.

It seems as if it was yesterday when I taught my son how to walk. Now he is 42. Time flies and life passes by in an instant. It is interesting at times to recall, retrace the paths that could have been taken. If my parents had decided not to wait for me to grow up a little bit, we would have gone to Paris and life would have taken a different turn. Who knows what might have happened? Nobody knows.

I do not regret anything. There are good things in everybody’s life. There were all kinds of things, but in general it was interesting. I always had very many wonderful friends. Lately we started losing them: they die one after another. We have a company of six couples, with whom I would never part. We were lucky to meet each other and have a good time in the company of each other.

Glossary:

1 Five percent quota

In tsarist Russia the number of Jews in higher educational institutions could not exceed 5% of the total number of students.

2 Russian Revolution of 1917

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

3 Pogroms in Ukraine

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

4 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.

5 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.

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

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

7 Solzhenitsyn, Alexander (1918-2008)

Russian novelist and publicist. He spent eight years in prisons and labor camps, and three more years in enforced exile. After the publication of a collection of his short stories in 1963, he was denied further official publication of his work, and so he circulated them clandestinely, in samizdat publications, and published them abroad. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1970 and was exiled from the Soviet Union in 1974 after publishing his famous book, The Gulag Archipelago, in which he describes Soviet labor camps.

8 First Estonian Republic

Until 1917 Estonia was part of the Russian Empire. Due to the revolutionary events in Russia, the political situation in Estonia was extremely unstable in 1917. Various political parties sprang up; the Bolshevik party was particularly strong. National forces became active, too. In February 1918, they succeeded in forming the provisional government of the First Estonian Republic, proclaiming Estonia an independent state on 24th February 1918.

9 Jewish Cultural Autonomy

Cultural autonomy, which was proclaimed in Estonia in 1926, allowing the Jewish community to promote national values (education, culture, religion).

10 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 under the pretext of 'grossly dodged from labor activity in the agricultural field and led anti-social and parasitic mode of life' from Latvia 52,541, from Lithuania 118,599 and from Estonai 32,450 people were deported. The total number of deportees from the three republics amounted to 203,590. Among them were entire Lithuanian families of different social strata (peasants, workers, intelligentsia), everybody who was able to reject or deemed capable to reject 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 camps.

11 Great Patriotic War

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

12 Estonian Rifle Corps

Military unit established in late 1941 as a part of the Soviet Army. The Corps was made up of two rifle divisions. Those signed up for the Estonian Corps by military enlistment offices were ethnic Estonians regardless of their residence within the Soviet Union as well as men of call-up age residing in Estonia before the Soviet occupation (1940). The Corps took part in the bloody battle of Velikiye Luki (December 1942 - January 1943), where it suffered great losses and was sent to the back areas for re-formation and training. In the summer of 1944, the Corps took part in the liberation of Estonia and in March 1945 in the actions on Latvian territory. In 1946, the Corps was disbanded.

13 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.

14 NKVD

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

15 Communal apartment

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

16 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.

17 Struggle against religion

The 1930s was a time of anti-religion struggle in the USSR. In those years it was not safe to go to synagogue or to church. Places of worship, statues of saints, etc. were removed; rabbis, Orthodox and Roman Catholic priests disappeared behind KGB walls.

18 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.

19 Pushkin, Alexandr (1799-1837)

Russian poet and prose writer, among the foremost figures in Russian literature. Pushkin established the modern poetic language of Russia, using Russian history for the basis of many of his works. His masterpiece is Eugene Onegin, a novel in verse about mutually rejected love. The work also contains witty and perceptive descriptions of Russian society of the period. Pushkin died in a duel.

20 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.'

21 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.

22 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.

23 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.

24 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.

25 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.

26 Iron Curtain

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

27 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

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

28 Lomonosov Moscow State University

founded in 1755, the university was for a long time the only higher educational institution in Russia open to the 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 Reestablishment of the Estonian Republic

According to the referendum conducted in the Baltic Republics in March 1991, 77.8 percent of participating Estonian residents supported the restoration of Estonian state independence. On 20th August 1991, at the time of the coup attempt in Moscow, the Estonian Republic's Supreme Council issued the Decree of Estonian Independence. On 6th September 1991, the USSR's State Council recognized full independence of Estonia, and the country was accepted into the UN on 17th September 1991.

30 Jewish Community of Estonia

On 30th March 1988 in a meeting of Jews of Estonia, consisting of 100 people, convened by David Slomka, a resolution was made to establish the Community of Jewish Culture of Estonia (KJCE) and in May 1988 the community was registered in the Tallinn municipal Ispolkom. KJCE was the first independent Jewish cultural organization in the USSR to be officially registered by the Soviet authorities. In 1989 the first Ivrit courses started, although the study of Ivrit was equal to Zionist propaganda and considered to be anti-Soviet activity. Contacts with Jewish organizations of other countries were established. KJCE was part of the Peoples' Front of Estonia, struggling for an independent state. In December 1989 the first issue of the KJCE paper Kashachar (Dawn) was published in Estonian and Russian language. In 1991 the first radio program about Jewish culture and activities of KJCE, 'Sholem Aleichem,' was broadcast in Estonia. In 1991 the Jewish religious community and KJCE had a joined meeting, where it was decided to found the Jewish Community of Estonia.

31 Gorbachev, Mikhail (1931- )

Soviet political leader. Gorbachev joined the Communist Party in 1952 and gradually moved up in the party hierarchy. In 1970 he was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, where he remained until 1990. In 1980 he joined the politburo, and in 1985 he was appointed general secretary of the party. In 1986 he embarked on a comprehensive program of political, economic, and social liberalization under the slogans of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). The government released political prisoners, allowed increased emigration, attacked corruption, and encouraged the critical reexamination of Soviet history. The Congress of People's Deputies, founded in 1989, voted to end the Communist Party's control over the government and elected Gorbachev executive president. Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party and granted the Baltic states independence. Following the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991, he resigned as president. Since 1992, Gorbachev has headed international organizations.

32 Tallinn Jewish Gymnasium

During the Soviet period, the building hosted Vocational School #1. In 1990, the school building was restored to the Jewish community of Estonia; it is now home to the Tallinn Jewish School.

33 1991 Moscow coup d'etat

Starting spontaneously on the streets of Moscow, its leaders went public on 19th August. TASS (Soviet Telegraphical Agency) made an announcement that Gorbachev had been relieved of his duties for health reasons. His powers were assumed by Vice President Gennady Yanayev. A State Committee on the State of Emergency (GKChP) was established, led by eight officials, including KGB head Vladimir Kryuchkov, Soviet Prime Minister Valentin Pavlov, and Defense Minister Dmitry Yazov. Seizing on President Mikhail Gorbachev's summer absence from the capital, eight of the Soviet leader's most trusted ministers attempted to take control of the government. Within three days, the poorly planned coup collapsed and Gorbachev returned to the Kremlin. But an era had abruptly ended. The Soviet Union, which the coup plotters had desperately tried to save, was dead.

Kovács Pál Sámuel

Életrajz

Kovács Pál Sámuel 77 éves sovány testalkatú férfi. Évek óta szívbeteg, ennek ellenére sokat mozog, biciklivel jár, és egyedül rendezi a házát és a gazdaságát. Pénteken, szombaton és nagyünnepekkor rendszeresen jár a zsinagógába imádkozni. Nagy emeletes házban lakik Marosvásárhely egyik külvárosában, van zöldségeskertje, szőlőse, vannak szárnyasai, kimondott falusi gazdaság. Ibolya, a lánya hetente egyszer-kétszer szokott neki főzni, de inkább Kovács Pál Sámuel főz magának. Szereti a tésztaféléket, a tésztát egyedül gyúrja meg, majd vágja fel vagy reszeli, és aztán kiteríti a szobában száradni. A lakás falait fényképek díszítik, fő helyen az édesanya és a családjáról készült felnagyított kép van. Nagyon szeret mesélni, az interjú során sokszor lett izgatott, nemegyszer elsírta magát. Boldog volt, hogy elmesélhette az életét.

Az apai részről a Kovács család bözödújfalusi eredetű, ott éltek mindig [Bözödújfalu egy eldugott kis falu a Bözödi gyűjtőtó szomszédságában, Erdőszentgyörgytől 7 kilométerre fekszik, Bezidu Nou a román neve. A falucskáról a következő – némi előítélettől sem mentes – ismertetés olvasható a Pallas Nagy Lexikonában: „kisközség Udvarhely vármegye székely-kereszturi j.-ban, (1891) 749 magyar lak. Hajdan ez volt a székely szombatosok fő lakóhelye s az utolsó 30 szombatos család is itt élt. A héber nyelvet nem tudják ugyan, de meglátszik rajtuk az izraelitizmus befolyása, leginkább abban, hogy a földmivelés kezeik alatt pang.” 1910-ben a községnek 677 lakosa volt. Lásd még: szombatosok.  – A szerk.]. A mi famíliánk másfajta Kovács, mert ez Pál família.

[„ (…) a Kovácsok háromfélék voltak, s az egyik családcsoport a Pál névvel különböztette meg magát például tőlünk, akik csak közönséges Kovácsok voltunk”( Kovács András: Vallomás a székely szombatosok perében, Kriterion, Bukarest, 1981, 218 oldal). – A szerk.]

Nagyanyám nem akarta összekavarni, betetette közbül a keresztlevelembe [Azaz nem tehették be hivatalosan családnévként, hanem azt kérte a nagyanya a szülőktől, hogy nevezzék el a fiút Pálnak, hogy valamilyen formában fennmaradjon a Pál név. – A szerk.]. Eredetileg a Kovács família nagybirtokos volt, aztán apránként eladogatták [a birtokot]. [Aztán] föld nem volt sok, valami hat hold, az is mind a hegyen.

Az apai nagyanyát Kovács Linának hívták, körülbelül 1869-ben született. Nagymamának nem volt testvére, nem volt egyáltalán férjhez menve, és két külön férfitől született két fia: édesapám, Antal és a bátyja, Márton. Nem tudom, hová valók lehettek az apjuk, nem tudok róluk semmit. Édesapám, Kovács Antal Bözödújfaluban 1889-ben született. A keresztlevelébe apámnak azt írja, hogy Kovács Naftali. Úgy volt beírva, mert a sakter abban az időben úgy tette be a zsidó nevet. Nem tudom, miért nem ment férjhez nagyanyám, nem is akart – mestersége volt, varrónő volt, fel tudta jól nevelni [a gyermekeket]. Felnevelte és taníttatta, odaadta inasnak mind a kettőt. Nagyanyám Nagyváradra adta mind a kettőjüket szabóinasnak, aztán kétfelé osztotta a földet [a két fiának]. Nem volt sok, valami hat hold. Az én időmben ő Bözödújfaluban, velünk és Medgyesen, Mártonnál is lakott, hol itt volt, hol ott [A Nagy-Küküllő vm.-ben lévő Medgyes városról van szó. Románul Mediaş. – A szerk.]. Volt varrógép Medgyesen is, nálunk is, mert apámnak volt varrógépe, aztán még segített neki is.

Kovács Márton nagybátyám, nem tudom tisztán, pár évvel volt nagyobb [apámnál], [Bözöd]Újfaluban született, ott nőtt fel, és tizennégy éves korban nagyanyám odaadta suszterinasnak [Valószínűleg ez a pontosabb: az egyik gyerek (Antal) szabóinas lett, a másik (Márton) suszterinas. Márton ugyanis később suszterként dolgozott, Antal pedig férfiszabóként. – A szerk.]. Nagyváradon tanult, apám is ott volt szabóinas. De azután mikor megnősült, akkor elkerült Medgyesre. A felesége Nagy Pepi, [bözöd]újfalvi, onnan vette el. Akkor, mikor a magyarok bejöttek 1940-ben [lásd: második bécsi döntés; magyar idők], akkor apámnak volt lova, és a szomszéddal együtt elhozták a családot oda, Bözödre. Nem vettek házat, házbérben voltak, mindig házbérben, ameddig meghaltak. Négy gyerekük volt, Kovács Bözsi, Kovács Zoli, Kovács András és Kovács Sándor. A kisebbik a leány volt. Márton susztermesterségből élt, volt munkája elég, megéltek jól. A deportálási időben őket nem vitték be a gettóba, ők Bözödön voltak [Vagyis nem Bözödújfalun. Az interjúalany határozott emlékei szerint csak Bözödújfaluról deportálták a zsidó származásúakat, ill. a zsidó vallásúakat, inkluzíve tehát a szombatosokat is. – A szerk. ], őket nem bántották [A székelyföldi (Maros-Torda, Csík, Udvarhely és Háromszék vm.) zsidókat, miután először az egyes községek helyi zsinagógáiban, iskoláiban stb. összegyűjtötték, a három központi gettó (Marosvásárhely, Szászrégen és Sepsiszentgyörgy) valamelyikébe szállították. A bözödújfalusi szombatosok a marosvásárhelyi gettóba kerültek. Braham a következőket írja róluk: „Ők állítólag mentesülhettek volna a gettóba tömörítéstől, ha kijelentik, hogy valójában keresztény magyarok, ám … egy forrás szerint erre nem voltak hajlandók” (Randolph L. Braham: A magyar Holocaust, Budapest, Gondolat/Wilmington, Blackburn International Inc., é. n. /1988/, 462. oldal). – A szerk.]. Háború után kiadták a földjüket [Bözöd]Újfaluban, kaptak gabonát felibe, akkor még mi is használtuk a földjét, mert nagyanyám kétfele osztotta. Aztán volt nekik házhelyük, és azt eladták. Érszűkületben halt meg, 1945-ben vagy 1946-ban, a háború után. Az unitárius pap temette el a zsidó temetőbe, meg volt engedve, nem volt probléma. Ők is aztán át voltak állva unitáriusnak. Márton nagybátyám mikor meghalt, nagymama már nem élt. Kovács Bözsi férjhez volt menve Geres Ferihez, mikor kimentek Izraelbe. Kovács Zoli Kolozsvárt volt, Kovács András Medgyesen, de a kapcsolatot nem tartottuk fenn.

[„Összetöpörödött öregasszony tűnik fel az úton (…). Özvegy Tarisnyás Jánosné, 92 éves /1978-ban – a szerk./. (…) A nénit meg is állítjuk (...). »Emlékszik-e arra, amikor a mostani zsidók még szombatosok voltak?« »Hogyne, hiszen mindenki jól tudta. Tele volt velük a falu.« »A régiek is úgy éltek, úgy jártak, mint a mostaniak?« »Éppen úgy, csak templomuk nem volt. De papot választottak maguk közül, aki a majorságok nyakát is elvágta. Azt is tudta mindenki, hogy ki a papjuk, mert annak meg kellett növesztenie a szakállát.« »Hát arra emlékszik-e, amikor zsidóknak keresztelkedtek?« »Én igen, még az első háborúra is – mélyül bele egyszerre az emlékezésbe. –Mindenben részesültem. Eleget csodálkoztunk mi ezeken a zsidókon, amikor megmetélkedtek.« »A néni nem volt szombatos soha?« – vágok közbe. »Én nem, sem semmi nemzetségem. Görög katolikus valláson vagyok, nagyapámék rományok voltak… Az áttérés úgy történt, hogy legelőbb két öreget metéltek meg, hogy ha azok meghalnak, már úgyse lesz nagy veszteség, eleget éltek. A fiatalok huzakodtak azután is eleget. Mü leányocskák esténként el-elmentünk a házhoz, ahol operáltak, s beleskelődtünk az ablakon. Úgy ordított egy-egy, hogy a ház szakadt össze. Az olyant erővel fogták le. Volt egy nagy, huszonkét esztendős legény, aki szégyellte a dolgot, semmiképp sem akart megmetélkedni. Nagy Zélignek hívták. Elszökött otthonról, odalett a faluból. Két hétig bujkált az erdőkben, amíg megkapták, és hazahozták« (Kovács András: id. mű, 19–20. oldal). – A szerk.]

Nagyanyám nem született zsidó, áttért 1922-ben [Valószínű, hogy az áttérés korábban történt, az első világháború alatt. – A szerk.]. 1940 előtt nagymamám zsidónak tartotta magát, tudott már imádkozni. Medgyesen tartotta a zsidóságot, de Bözödön [1940 után] már nem. Mikor a magyarok bejöttek, ott lakott Medgyesen Márton bátyámnál. Akkor apámnak volt lova, és a szomszéddal együtt elhozták a családot Bözödre. Nagyanyám örökké húzta fel apámat, és apám ezért verte anyámat. Olyan hitvány vénasszony volt, még én is, mikor agyvérzést kapott a vénasszony, úgy megráztam, mint Krisztus a vargát, visszaadtam, amit ő nekem adott. Mielőtt meghalt, hat hónapig feküdt paralizálva [lebénulva]. Márton fia nem kereste fel hat hónap alatt egyszer sem az anyját. Levitték hozzánk, és akkor vittek szalmazsákot és dunyhát és valami lepedőt, és akkor anyám, nyugodjék, ő csinálta a pelenkát, mert maga alá piszkolt, vizelt. Akkortájban nem jött be még a nejlon, és akkor hat hónapig anyám rendezte. Mikor nagyanyám meghalt, akkor én olyan tizenöt éven felül lehettem, volt [sárga] csillagom [A sárga csillag viselését 1944 áprilisától tették kötelezővé a zsidónak minősülő személyek esetében. Lásd: sárga csillag Magyarországon. – A szerk.], levente voltam [lásd: levente-mozgalom], és elmentem Márton nagybátyám után. Nem hogy sírjak [a halála miatt], még vigyorogtam, mert nagyanyám is „nagyon jó volt velem”, megveretett negyvenfokos lázzal, mert miért kiáltottam, hogy „mit keres a padláson?”. Mert anyám, nyugodjék, eldugta a pászkát a padláson a láda alá, húsvétkor [Pészah] maradt meg, és eldugta, és én kiáltottam, hogy „mit keres a padláson?”. Mikor hazakerült, akkor megmondta apámnak, és jól megvert, lázasan. Hetvennégy éves volt, mikor meghalt. Még a sakter ott volt [Bözöd]Újfaluban [azaz még nem deportálták], ő temette el a zsidó temetőbe.

Akkoriban, aki meghalt, én mindig bedugtam az orromat [beleskelődtem, hogyan ravatalozzák fel]. Volt egy deszka két székre téve, arra a halottat rátették, megmosták, egy nagy kádba vagy cseberbe folyt le a víz. Mikor megmosták, volt láda csinálva [azaz koporsó, gyalulatlan deszka, amibe beletették a halottat], egy fehér lepedőbe bele volt csavarva, és akkor a feje alá egy kicsi párna megtömve forgáccsal és a hasára egy törött korsó [Voltak/vannak olyan közösségek, ahol azt az agyagedényt, amelyben a holttest lemosásához használt víz volt, összetörik, és darabkáit beteszik a koporsóba, kis darabkákat pedig a halott szemére helyeznek, hogy zárva maradjon. – A szerk.]. És amíg nem volt a ládába beletéve, addig sarló volt a hasára téve keresztül, a zsidóknál azt tették keresztül, hogy ne pukkadjon ki [ne fúvódjék föl]. Akkor letakarták egy fekete lepedővel a ládát, és akkor mikor kivitték a temetőbe, leengedték [a kiásott sírhelybe], két-három szóval elmondták a misét [az imádságokat], és beletették. Sírkő volt csinálva, magas sírkő, majdnem két méter magas, tiszta kőből kifaragva. Volt olyan kőfaragó, aki meg tudta azt csinálni [a héber betűket rávésni] [lásd még: holttest előkészítése a temetésre; temetés; temető].

Az első világháborúban szakaszvezető volt apám, [Székely]Udvarhelyen, majd fogságban volt hat évig Harkovban. Ott megismerkedett egy orosz zsidó nővel, egy Vulfovic leánnyal, nem tudom a másik nevét, ő az édesanyám testvére. Apám hogy szabó volt, a tiszteknek biztosan dolgozott, és akkor megengedték, hogy megnősüljön, kapott lakást. Lett egy fiuk, Oszkár, ott született Oroszországban, 1919-ben vagy 1920-ban. Aztán a bátyámnak az anyja meghalt. A leánytestvére, Vulfovic Róza – az édesanyám –, mikor apám megkapta a papírt, hogy jöhet haza, a gyermeket nem engedte, hogy elhozza. Hogy ne adja oda a kisfiút, hozzáment apámhoz.

Vulfovic Róza 1891-ben született, Harkovban lakott [Harkov – az ukrajnai Harkov kormányzóság székhelye volt, 1888-ban közel 190 ezer lakossal (a lakosok között kb.  5% volt a zsidók és 2% a németek aránya). – A szerk.]. Nem tudom, ha ott is született. Azt se tudom, hogy milyen végzettsége volt, de látszik a fényképen, hogy elegáns. 1922-ben össze is házasodtak. Apám anyámnak bemondott, hogy ez van, az van [Bözöd]Újfaluban, úgy hozta el anyámat, közben mikor jöttek [megérkeztek], nem volt semmi. Utána még született három gyerek, a nagyobbik, Kovács Béla 1922-ben, mikor jöttek, az út közben az anyám terhes volt már vele, aztán a lánytestvérem, Eszter 1925-ben [Bözöd]Újfaluban. Iker volt a leánytestvérem, a testvére fiú volt, csak a fiú meghalt születéskor. Én pedig 1927-ben születtem, én voltam a legkisebbik. Amikor kereszteltek, betették nekem a Sámuelt. Keresztanyámék ketten voltak, Kovács Eszti és Kovács Frida, az idősebb volt, az is zsidó volt, elmentek később Izraelbe [Kovács Sámuel két szombatos asszonyt nevez keresztanyjának, ők voltak a körülmetéléskor a névadók. Kovács Frida férje volt Sámuel, innen a név. – A szerk.].

Anyámnak az apja szakállas volt, Vulfovicnak hívták, és Harkovban éltek. Volt gyáruk Harkovban, de azt nem tudom, hogy milyen gyáruk volt, nem kérdeztem. Az 1930-as években még leveleződtek onnan. Nagyszüleimet nem láttam soha, csak képen. A nagyszülőkről anyám nekem nem mondott semmit a világon, én voltam a legkisebbik, aztán a kisebbik, hogy van a gyermek, mind fogja a szoknyáját [az anyjának], azért, hogy ne maradjon el. Aztán én kérdeztem, nem mondott semmit, csak annyit, mutatta a képeket, hogy ez a fiútestvér és a leánytestvérei, négyen voltak testvérek. A [második világ]háború után nem jött levél többet, semmi, meg volt szakítva minden [kapcsolat].

Az én időmben Bözödújfalun kevés zsidó család volt. Az üzletesre jól emlékszem, „boltos Hermán”, így hívták, már nem tudom, az igazi neve mi. A katolikus pap olyan rossz ember volt, hogy a katolikusok [a hívek] áttértek szombatosnak, mert volt Kőrispatakban két család szombatos.

[„A Bethlen Gábor-féle 1614. évi lustrából Udvarhelyszékre vonatkozóan olvastak, illetve következtettek ki későbbi krónikások: 125 falu, 1 város, 4430 család, 22 150 lélek… A szombatosság földrajzi szórását tekintve ilyen faluneveket írtak egymás mellé: Szenterzsébet, Nagy- és Kissolymos, Bözöd, Bözödújfalu, Kőrispatak (…). Aztán a városok: Udvarhely, de főleg Marosvásárhely” (Kovács András: id. mű, 137. oldal). – A szerk.]

Nem tudom, honnan jött a sakter. Fridnek [Fried] hívták, nem tudom a másik nevét. Volt szakálla, és kalappal járt. Volt felesége és négy gyermeke, nagyon vallásos volt. És a sakter átvette az összes szombatistát zsidónak. Ők akarták, bele voltak egyezve. Nagykorukban megmetélte őket. Odaálltak mind a harmincöt család. És azután tartották a vallást, de olyan vallást, hogy én azután [olyat] sohasem láttam.

[„1869. szeptember 2-án Eötvös miniszter úr elrendelte, hogy a bözödújfalviak visszatérítésére irányuló minden további próbálkozástól óvakodjanak a közigazgatási szervek, sértetlenül fenntartván a jelen állapotot. / Kohn Sámuel rabbi és történész: A hazánkban akkor uralkodó szabadelvű áramlat lehetetlenné tette, hogy a rendelet visszavonását vagy gyakorlati keresztülvitelének akadályozását akár csak meg is kíséreljék. A szombatosok áttérése bevégzett tény volt. Ezt példának értelmeztem arra, hogy lám, a keresztény világ egy parányi részecskéje visszatért az ősforráshoz, amelyből eredt volt tizennyolc századdal ezelőtt. Az 1869-re kialakult hitközségi helyzetet alkalmam volt személyesen is részletesebben megismerni. Nem közvetlenül az események idején, persze, hiszen akkor a magyar zsidóságnak, beleértve a tisztségviselőket is (magam is rabbi és hitszónok voltam Pesten), a legkevésbé jutott ideje arra figyelni, ami egy távoli székely falucskában történt. (…) Jómagam először egy Geiger nevű majna-frankfurti rabbinak (…) [237–239 old. lehet erre még utalást találni – A szerk.] a német zsidó lapban közölt cikkéből értesültem az esetről. (…) Az új egyházközség – ez már hivatalosan lajstromozott adat – 32 családot és 136 lelket számlált, miután 5 család, köztük 2 Sallós, 19 lélekkel megmaradt szombatosnak. Egyik Sallós volt a rabbijuk, másik a falubíró. (…) Az újzsidók először Wolfinger Salamont választották meg rövid időre – míg el nem költözött a faluból – templomi elöljárójuknak, s a maguk és gyermekeik oktatását is rábízták. Zsinagóga építését kezdték el nyomban, amelyet 1874-ben némi adományok segítségével be is fejeztek” (Kovács András: id. mű, 246–247. oldal). – A szerk.]

Ez mielőtt én születtem, akkor történt, 1927 előtt, és 1934–1935-ben már mindezeket hallottam, az ilyen áttéréseket.

1922-ben, mikor apám hazajött az orosz fogságból, akkor nekifogtak építeni a zsidó tomplomot, jártak a megyében, gyűjtöttek pénzt [Valószínűleg csak javítás történt, ugyanis a zsinagógát már fölépítették 1874-ben. – A szerk.]. A templom éppen az a típusú volt, mint ami itt benn [Marosvásárhelyen], csakhogy kisebb volt sokkal. Volt erkély [karzat], a nők fenn voltak, és a férfiak lenn, külön voltak.

[„A szerény, de csinos imaház székely ízlés szerint készült, belsejében 67 imaszéket helyeztek el a férfiaknak, a rácsozattal körülvett női karzaton pedig 40 ülést. A festett bútorzatot tulipánnal díszítették, a falakon Udvarhelyszéken megszokott faragványok” (Kovács András: id. mű, 247. oldal). – A szerk.]

Templomi ruhája volt mindenkinek, a férfiaknak kalap, a nőknek fejkendő. Abban az időben olyan zsidók nem voltak, amelyikeknek ünnepnapkor ne legyen fehér köpeny, csináltatták [A kitliről van szó. – A szerk.]. Csak a fiataloknak nem volt. Mindegyik személynek volt imakönyve, Pestről hozták. A második világháború előtt apám előimádkozó volt a sakterrel ketten. Mikor apám elkezdte, egy kicsit imádkozott, és azután a sakter. Mikor volt a Szukot, akkor olyan szép előeste volt, hogy ritkaság. Volt öt Tóra [tekercs], és [Szimhat Tóra ünnepén,] mikor a sakter körbe kellett járjon a Tórával, ott benn, a templomban vitték körbe, megvolt a hely, hogy hol. Nagy Jakabnak volt a felesége, úgy hívták, Sári néni, akkor felállt [kívül, az imaház ablakánál] egy székre vagy egy kicsi rövid létrára, és hívta a szemben levő román családot, hívta, hogy a sakter mit csinál, és azok kacagtak. A sakter táncolt, a zsidók énekeltek, és a Tóra körben volt, úgy felváltva mindeniknél, vittük. Elég az hozzá, nem akarok hazudni, de rá két hónapra az asszonynak a karja eltört.

Építettek a templom után papi lakást [ahol a sakter lakott], és fürdőmedencét csináltak, mikvét. Újévkor – Ros Hásánákor –, Szukotkor, mielőtt állt volna be az ünnep, minden zsidó ott fürdött meg a medencében. Aztán ott nagy kazán volt, melegítették a vizet. Zsidó temető is volt. A sakter vágta a kóser majorságot, mindenfélét. Erdőszentgyörgyön [5 km-re Bözödújfalutól] vágta le a borjút, tehenet, és akkor onnan vitték [Bözöd]Újfaluba a húst. Vittek tyúkot, és egy húzásból elhúzta [az állat nyakán a kést], és dobta félre. A sakter tartotta a templomot is [azaz az istentiszteletet a zsinagógában]. [Bözöd]Újfaluban volt zsidó iskola, héder, ott, ahol volt a lakása a sakternek.

[„Már első években kiderült azonban, hogy a nagy többségükben igen szegény hivők mily nehezen tudják fenntartani egyházukat. Megdöbbentő híradást közöl erről a magyar zsidó származású Beck Mór bukaresti rabbi és hitszónok újságcikke, melyben beszámol, hogy átutazóban itt járva egy teljesen magára hagyott szegény hitközség nyomorúságos állapotát tapasztalta. A templom fala málladozik, a rituális fürdő romba dőlt, mert a hívek nem tudták összeadni a javításához szükséges 25 forintot, a temetőnek nincs kerítése, egybefolyik a szomszédos földekkel. Sakter-, előimádkozó- és rabbihelyettesként egy műveletlen, a héberben és vallástudományban egyaránt járatlan lengyel zsidó működik, mert az évi 100–120 forintért, amit papjuk fizetésére összegyűjteni tudnak, csak efféle vándorélethez szokott emberek vállalkoznak, akik aztán sűrűn cserélnek lakhelyet, és így gyakran hónapokig még az ilyen saktert is nélkülözniök kell, gyermekeik oktatás, a családok pedig hús nélkül maradnak. Legnagyobb keserűségük, hogy imádkozni sem tudnak szívük szerint. Istentiszteletük eleinte magyarul folyt, úgy, hogy a kántor héberül mondta az imát, a község pedig a régi szombatoskönyvekből magyarul olvasta a megfelelő szöveget. Vándor sakter kántoraik azonban, kik magyarul nem értettek, azonkívül túl szigorú ortodox elveiknél fogva csak a szent nyelven mondott imát tartották érvényesnek, rávették az embereket, hogy azon a nyelven imádkozzanak, amelyet ők olvasni sem igen tudtak, érteni pedig egyáltalán nem értették. A bajon úgy iparkodtak segíteni, hogy a legfontosabb imák héber szövegét többen magyar betűkkel íratták át. Nem csoda – összegez az aggódó bukaresti rabbi –, hogy máris két prozelita család visszatért a keresztény vallásra. A tudósításnak pénzsegély lett az eredménye, majd kieszközölték, hogy állandó jövedelemforrás teremtése céljából egész Udvarhely megye zsidó anyakönyvi hivatalát a bözödújfalvi hitközséghez tegyék át. Állami segélyt is kaptak, úgyhogy az 1886. évi költségvetésben vallástanító és sakter fizetésére már 400 forintot írhattak elő. Ettől kezdve találtak megfelelő, magyarul beszélő papot, aki hozzáértő lelki vezetőjük legyen. (…) A hitközség ezáltal túljutott a súlyos válságon, s bár tagjainak helyzetére változatlanul a nagy szegénység a jellemző, mégis zavartalanul működik” (Kovács András: id. mű, 247–249. oldal). – A szerk.]

[Bözöd]Újfaluban négyféle vallás volt: a zsidó, a román [görög keleti], a katolikus és az unitárius. Minket vittek román templomba, azok jöttek a zsidó templomba, a katolikusok jöttek a zsidó templomba, mi is mentünk oda, az unitáriushoz szintén. Úgyhogy ez a négyféle vallás olyan volt, mint az édestestvér. A románoknak olyan volt a templomuk, hogy tiszta vályogból volt. Nem egy helyen tartották a vallásórát. Mindenik vallást tartotta mindenik pap.

Az utak kövesek voltak, nem volt emeletes ház. Egy volt, az se emeletes, hanem szuterénlakás volt. Az illető olyant épített, hogy abban a körzetben nem volt. Lovász Hermánnak hívták, volt Amerikában, megszedte magát dollárral, és akkor hazakerült, vett sok földet, és [a ház szuterénjében] alul csinált fürdőbazint. Az annyi mindent csinált ott! Mikor bejött a társas gazdaság [lásd: kollektív Romániában], akkor szegénnyel kezdtek csúfolkodni, hogy kulák. Elnevezték kuláknak, és az öreg megzavarodott, és az úton mind jött-ment, és aztán abba [a traumába] belehalt az öreg.

Vásár [Bözöd]Újfaluban nem volt, mentek Erdőszentgyörgyre és Kibédre [20 km Bözödújfalutól]. Szórakozás nem volt, cirkusz, vásár semmi. Petróleumlámpa volt, a villanyt Ceauşescu idejében vezették be. Víz a kútból volt. Kirakott kővel volt kút csinálva [vagyis nem betongyűrűket helyeztek a földbe], de jó vizek voltak. [Bözöd]Újfalu nem volt olyan nagy falu, százötven-százhatvan házszám az egész, de mindenféle mesterség volt, akinek volt [mestersége], meg tudott élni. Például a szabó és a suszter, az aztán le a kalappal, de a kovácsmesterség, az asztalos vagy a kerekes [bognár], ilyesmik voltak még és az ácsmunkások, akik építettek. Ezeknek ment, jól kerestek. A zsidók földművességgel foglalkoztak [lásd: a földművelés szerepe]. Mesterember volt olyan négy-öt, három-négy suszter és apám, a szabó. A többi földműves. Például volt nyolcvan vagy száz hold földje, tartott szolgát, azzal foglalkoztak. Nagygazda volt egy, Kovács Elek Jóska, nem volt gyermekük, akartak engem odavinni örökbe, rám akartak írni mindent, apám nem engedett. Én eléggé akartam menni, még sírtam, hogy nem enged. Az asszony keresztanyám volt [Azaz: névadó a körülmetéléskor. – A szerk.]. Esztinek hívták, Eszti néninek.

Mikor megérkeztek a szüleim 1922-ben, előbb Bözödre költöztek [3 km-re van Bözödújfalutól, ma Bezid]. Nem sok időt voltak ottan, és akkor leköltöztek Bözödújfaluba. Apám megvette a régi szülői házat a bátyjától, olyan vályog, és deszkából volt a fedele, abban laktunk. A házat 1943-ban újraépítettük, vettünk téglát, és építettünk egy szoba-konyhát. A konyhában volt apámnak a szabóműhelye, abból éltünk. Apám varrt, a népek vitték az anyagot, például szőttek juhból [gyapjúból] posztót. Akkor ott az volt a divat [Bözöd]Újfaluban, csinálták ezt a priccsesnadrágot [A priccsesnadrág fekete posztóból készült, a combrészen bővebb, az alsó lábszáron szűkre szabott nadrág, melyet csizmához viseltek, lényegében bricsesznadrág. A Magyar Néprajzi Lexikon szerint a  parasztok között főként az I. világháború után terjedt el. – A szerk.].

[„Alkalmi lakókról, kicsiházról – így hívtuk a hátsó szobát – jut eszembe T. bácsi varrógépe.  De ő maga is – külön történet. Világháború, orosz fogság, ott szerzett, de még hazaindulás előtt talán szülésben ott meg is halt feleség, újraházasodás, ottani szokás szerint a meghalt asszony leánytestvérével, és hazaérkezés az orosz asszonnyal. (…) Új gyerekek, kevés föld, T. bácsi a gazdálkodással együtt folytatta a szabóságot, háziposztóból ügyes »priccses« nadrágot varrt. (…) Szemfülesen most is megtudta, hogy másnap jönnek a foglalók, mert adót fizetni nem tud. Bármit lefoglalhatnak, nem bánja, csak a varrógépét ne, mert akkor lepecsételik, esetleg el is viszik a községházára, s ő mivel dolgozik? Éjnek évadján gyanús szöszmötölés a pitvar felől, s virradatra a varrógép már ott állt – mintha öröktől fogva – rongypokróccal letakarva a pillanatnyilag éppen üres kicsiházban. T. bácsi ezután ott fog dolgozni, titokban” (Kovács András: id. mű, 44.  oldal). – A szerk.]

Nyugodjék, anyám is varrt, mert annyi munkájuk volt, hogy sok. Bözödről is vitték a munkát, Kőrispatakból [6 km-re Bözödújfalutól, ma Crişeni románul] és Bözödújfaluból. Még volt föld, nem sok, három hold az egész, még kapáltunk harmadba, felibe. Négyen laktunk egy szobában, mert a leánytestvérem, Eszter a háború előtt elment Nyárádszeredába [Kisközség volt az egykori Maros-Torda vm.-ben. – A szerk.] szolgálni. Tizennégy éves volt, mikor elment. Elég nagy udvarunk volt, lovat tartott apám, aztán a bátyám, nyugodjék, azt mondta: „Édesapám, adja el a lovakat, és vegyen tehenet.” Vettünk két tinót [Noha a ’tinó’ szót általában a fiatalabb ökörre, vagyis az 1–3 éves bikaborjúra használják, A Magyar Nyelv Értelmező Szótára szerint némely tájnyelvi használatban „idősebb, de még munkára nem fogott borjú” is lehet, „nemére való tekintet nélkül”. – A szerk.], felneveltük, lett bornyú, tej, a ház tele volt tejjel, élelemmel. Ez sokat számított, a lóval örökké ráfizetett, mert az egyik örökké vagy megvakult, vagy megsántult, valami volt. Én mint gyermek, elmentem a lovakkal, és a vak ló bement egy olyan vizes helyre, és elsüllyedt. Haza kellett szaladjak, kötéllel húzták ki onnan.

Anyám tudott írni, olvasni, de csak oroszul. Egy keveset tanultam tőle oroszul, de azt is elfelejtettem. Nem mondta, hogy milyen iskolába járt, de nagyon vallásos volt, azt tudom. Otthon zsidóul [jiddisül] beszéltek, apám megtanult, még én is tudtam vagy egy szót, de elfelejtettem. Anyám megtanult magyarul, de úgy, ahogy én beszélek románul, harapta a szót, mint aki idegen, velünk és apámmal legtöbbet zsidóul beszélt. Olyan vallásos volt, addig sehova kimozdulni a kapun nem lehetett, amíg az imádságot reggelenként el nem mondtuk. Akkor van olyan, hogy reggeliben [ima]szíjat tesznek fel a homlokra [és a karra], és a család férfi tagjai minden reggel imaszíjjal imádkoztak. Itt volt Amerikából egy rabbi, nem is egy volt, mert kettő, azok hoztak olyan szíjat, és mutatták, hogy hogy kell felcsavarni, és amikor sor került reám, kivettem a kezéből, és feltettem [Ez akkor történt, amikor Kovács Pál Sámuel már Marosvásárhelyen élt, és az ottani hitközséghez jött a rabbi. – A szerk.].

Édesanyámnak volt zsidó barátnője, azok jártak oda hozzánk, különösen szombat délután, ötön-haton. Még emlékszem a régi házra, olyan feljárat volt két felén kő és lépcsővel, olyan régimódi tornác, régi ház volt akkor, tiszta vályogból. Ültek a tornácon, aztán beszélgettek a zsidó nők, magyarul traccsoltak csak. Kacagták anyámat, hogy hogy harapta a szót. Hát szombaton délután ünnep volt, nem dolgoztak. Péntek hat óra, hét óra után munka semmi. Szombaton anyám nem dolgozott semmit. Megfőzte [pénteken] szombatra az ételt, és szombaton meg volt fogadva valaki, hogy tüzet csinált [lásd: szombati munkavégzés tilalma; sábesz gój]. Tizenkét órára ott volt az illető, megcsinálta a tüzet, megmelegítette az ételt, ebédeltünk, estig semmit, és mikor a csillag feljött, fogott neki mindennek. Szombaton egy gyermeke se csinált semmit, nem engedte. Mi, zsidó gyerekek szombaton délután játszottunk, minden hülyeséget eljátszottunk. Abban az időben nem volt rádió sem, amivel szórakozni, hallgatni lehetett volna, nem volt semmi, villany sem volt.

Rendes haja volt anyámnak [nem volt parókája], szegény, olyan sovány lett. Sokat panaszkodott. Annyi volt az egész, hogy az öreg [Kovács Pál  Sámuel az édesapjára utal. – A szerk.] csúfmániás volt, és akkor csúfolkodott vele. Meg verte anyámat. Egyszer kinn aludtunk a szénában a bátyámmal, éjjel sírt [az anyám], hamar lementem, vettem a karót, hogy üssem főbe [az apámat]. Béla bátyám nem hagyta, aztán úgy bánta, hogy miért nem hagyta, hogy üssem agyon. Apám mániás volt, valami nem tetszett, és milyen az ember, külföldről visz valakit [egy feleséget magának], és meg kéne becsülje, mint a tenyerét, ehelyett mocskolta anyámat. Anyám gondozta az állatokat, és még járt szegény kapálni is. Megtanult kapálni. Pedig látszik a fényképen is, hogy nem utolsó családból való volt. Édesanyám nem volt elmenve soha a faluból sehová. Én szerettem volna, ha visszamentünk volna Oroszországba még 1942-ben, hogyha apámat agyon tudtam volna ütni.

Mosni a kúton mosott, de a kertünk végében volt folyóvíz, egy patak, a Küsmöd. A kert végében, egy kicsit lennebb, volt két köves paraszt malom és a volt malomárok, a legtöbbet ott mosott patakvízzel. Aztán az én anyám nagyon szerette a halat, én nem szerettem. Minden pénteken sütött kenyeret, és a tekenyőt nem vakarta ki egészen, csak úgy hagyta a tésztát ráragadva, és akkor betettük a vízbe, tettünk követ, hogy nyomja le a tekenyőt, és csak kicsi hézagot hagytunk. Betettük a vízbe, és akkor a halak mentek be, annyi hal volt: kicsi, nagy, mindenféle. Aztán csinált a kicsikből halgombócot, emlékszem arra, de csont abban, azt hiszem, nem volt. Megcsinálta, aztán nem tudom, hogy hogy csinálta meg. Krumpligulyásba is tette, de én abból nem ettem.

Édesanyám megfőzte a csólentet. Pénteken délután hat órakor anyám már behevített, betette a kemencébe, és másnap délig meg volt főve, mint az élet, olyan volt. A fazéknak a fenekébe tettek kuglit, kukoricalisztből. A hagyma meg van pergelve, össze van keverve tyúkzsírral, libazsírral vagy olajjal, és abba beletéve egy kicsi bors, hogy csípős legyen. Az volt a fenekén, háromujjnyi vastagon. És arra jött akkor a paszuly. Pénteken betették, szombaton tizenkét órakor vették ki a csólentet, még a román pap és a katolikus pap is, a jegyző, azok is csináltattak csólentet és pászkát is. Hozzánk is vittek, akinek volt jó kemencéje. Ezek fizették, azt mondták, hogy ingyen nem kell. Rákaptak, olyan népek voltak, akik mentek a zsidókhoz, a zsidók tudtak főzni. Elvittem [házhoz], és kaptam örökké csubukot [baksist]. A régi időben nádból fonták a kantárt, úgy mondták, hogy kantár, a cserépedény bele volt téve, volt, amikor kettőt vittem. Egyiket egyik helyre, és a másikat a másikra. Szombaton vittem a csólentet délben tizenkét órakor. Mikor volt az ebéd, otthon mindenkinek jutott egy-egy kicsi darab kóser hús. Nem hazudok, minden évben harminc libát töltött [tömött] anyám, mind négy hétig, annyi hús volt a padláson felkötve. Azokat megfüstölte, és akkor abba a fuszulykalevesbe, a csólentbe beletette.

Érdekes volt, hogy aztán nekifogtak, csináltak pászkát [Maros]Vásárhelynek és a megyének. Apám tizennyolc évet sütötte, értett a sütéshez, volt nálunk is nagy kemence. Volt olyan kemence a zsidó papi lakásnál [a sakternál], ott is a személyzet sütötte rendre, hogy úgy mondjam, kalákában. Kőrispatakban volt egy vízimalom, és a vízimalomban más személynek nem őröltek [a pászkakészítés időszakában], de olyan takarítást csináltak, hogy ott lehetett volna enni húst rajta. És akkor egész vagon búzát leőröltek, és szekerekkel bevitték [Bözöd]Újfaluba. És az asszonyok váltószitával kiszitálták a lisztet, még én is szitáltam. Abban kijön az egységes liszt, mindenféle, a korpa az marad. Milyen érdekes volt, fehér lepedőben, egyik helyről a másikra vitték, minden zsidó házhoz. Volt olyan szegény zsidó, hogy hát biza, két véka búzát őrölt, apám is őrölt három-négy vékát, mi is voltunk haton [Egy véka kb. 25–30 liter. – A szerk.]. A nők serítették [sodorták] a tésztát, volt két ember, amelyik gyúrta a tésztát, olyan keményre, hogy aztán jól ki tudták nyújtani. Nagy tál volt, körülbelül hat kiló liszt ment belé. Aztán kemény kar kelletett, hogy meg tudja gyúrni. És volt olyan asszony, aki gyorsabb, ügyesebb volt, a másik egy kicsit gyengébb, de tizennyolc fehérnép járt seríteni. Az asztalon egy pléhdarabbal meg kellett recézni a pászkát. Volt két cseber, abban volt a víz, az egyikben, aki ment a vécére, jött vissza, ott volt a csupor, és mosta meg a kezét. A tizennyolc fehérnépnek a pap fizette, mindenkinek. Én is hordtam a tésztát, amit kiserítettek, volt olyan rúd, arra tettem rá. Lapáttal apám tette be a kemencébe, fordította meg, megsült, sarjúra, szénára dobta, de a tűz csak egyik felén égett a kemencének. A láng így ment körbe. Egyszer-egyszer volt, amelyiket nem tudta jól rátenni a rúdra. Befért hat-hét pászka. Egyiket forgatta, másikat tette be, vette ki [A pászkakészítéshez lásd még: smire macesz.]. Aztán pénzért vitték a megyébe, elhozták [Maros]Vásárhelyre is. Pészáhkor nyolc napig, az alatt az idő alatt csak pászka és krumpli volt.

Purimkor, mikor gyermek voltam, a tésztákat [süteményeket] hordoztam [sláchmónesz], és cseréltük ki, de volt olyan hely, hogy nem volt mivel kicserélje, hanem elvette az egészet, adtak néhány krajcárt.

Jom Kipurkor böjt, egész nap. Aztán mikor én gyermek voltam, délig meg volt engedve. A sakter mondta, hogy lehet tizenkét óráig vagy egy óráig böjtölni, de aztán a felnőttek estig, és akkor vittek oda egy liter pálinkát, mindenkinek egy pohár pálinkát, avval aztán hazamentünk.

Csináltak kóser bort is külön edényben, külön hordóban, ott, [Bözöd]Újfaluban. Anyám nem engedte, hogy más legyen, csak kóser, nekünk külön sajtolónk volt, apám külön csinálta. És addig nem csinált senkinek, amíg a miénket nem sajtolta ki.

Első keresztanyám, [Nem egészen egyértelmű, hogy az „első” minősítéssel az életkorára utal-e, vagy arra, hogy a „módosabbik”. Kovács Sámuel feljebb ugyanis Kovács Frida nevű másik keresztanyjáról mondta, hogy ő volt az idősebbik. – A szerk. ] Kovács Elek Jóskának a felesége, az is milyen ételeket, zsidó ételeket főzött. Én megtanultam a keresztanyámtól a krumpligulyást, de az újkrumpliból, karikára vágva. Megfőzi a húst, libahúst vagy juhhúst vagy akármilyent, és a krumplit karikára vágva, ujjnyi vastagon. Akkor odateszi, emlékszem, hogy olyan nagy lábosban főzte, merthogy gazdák voltak. Azt lehet mondani, hogy a fél falu szívesen ment oda, mikor a búzát csépelték, mert olyan ebéd volt, ott volt juh levágva, ott volt liba levágva, olyan ételek… Tettek hosszú asztalt, fehér kenyeret sütöttek. Erdőszentgyörgyön volt őrölve, volt búzájuk. Minden pénteken sütötte a kenyeret.

Tizenhárom éves korban, a bár micvóra megtanultam, hogy mit kell mondani, a sakter tanított. Egy Pesten kiadott imakönyvből olvastam fel, van egy rész, amit bár micvókor kell felolvasni, azt olvastam fel. Megtanítottak, és akkor jelen volt a Kovács família, a keresztanyám, két keresztanyám volt, és mintha most látnám őket, milyen tortákat csináltak. Amennyi zsidó volt, majdnem az egész ott volt.

1933-ban vagy 1934-ben fejtífuszom volt [Fejtífusz – tetvek terjesztette betegség volt, a 20. század elején kifejlesztett védőoltás előtt rendszerint halálos kimenetelű. – A szerk.], és én ott tanultam az ágyban. Egy fiatal tanító volt, és apám megfizette. Akkor elvitt az orvoshoz, de sem azelőtt, sem azután többet nem vitt orvoshoz. Akármelyikünk beteg volt, apám tudta rendezni. Mikor volt a fogságban, egy német tiszt, orvos, együtt voltak, és aztán az megtanította. Egy asszonynak az ember úgy megütötte, hogy kiakadt az állkapcsa, és akkor elment apámhoz, és visszalökte és helyrejött. Úgyhogy olyan kart, derekat, lábat, mint nekem is a két lábam, hogy itt elöl volt [előre tört], apám nem vitt [Erdő]Szentgyörgyre az orvoshoz, hanem visszahúzta. Öt hónapig az ágyban voltam. Aztán kezdtem két bottal járni. Ki voltam etetni, egy nagy árokban megcsúsztam, mert volt eső, és beestem. Hát lehetett az az árok egy olyan hat-hét méter mélységű. A lábam itt volt a mellemnél, elöl, hogy aztán úgy vitt haza szekérrel, kért valakitől két tehenet. És akkor, amikor hazavitt, rögtön megfogta a két lábamat, és helyre húzta. Úgy voltam öt hónapig.

Apám Oroszországból hozta a [menta]gyökeret. Addig nem volt senkinek, és azt mondták, hogy „Tóni minta” [Tóni-féle menta]. Bevitte [Bözöd]Újfaluba az olajat, és azt mondták „Tóni olaj”. A napraforgómagot valahonnan kapta, csináltak olajat, cserélte be vagy adta el.

[(…) És egyszer csak a nevét együtt emlegetik a kiskertekben egyre szaporodó új növénnyel, a mentával, amelyből ingyen, kitűnő teát főztünk még betegség ellen is, meg a faluban akkor megjelent napraforgóval, amelynek olaja egyenesen életszükségletet elégített ki az akkori szűk esztendőkben és egy olyan faluban, ahol a lakosság egy része disznózsírt nem fogyaszt.  A mentát biztosan ő hozta be, hogy Oroszországból-e, ahogy beszélték, nem tudom, de a napraforgó elterjesztésében kevésbé lehetett honosító szerepe” (Kovács András: id. mű, 44.  oldal). – A szerk.]

A mentát odaadta a patikába. Leszerződte a mentát, egy holdnál többet ültetett. Mikor akkora volt, learatták, de a szárát nem dobta el apám, maradt két nagy zsákkal a zsidó hitközségnek, a sakter lakásának padlására rakták, mert az nagy volt, és a deszkapadlón jól megszáradt. Két mázsa lett. Azok ott csináltak abból dianát [mentás szeszt], mentás cukrot, sok mindent.

Apám soknak tudott segíteni így a betegséggel, volt, amelyiknek a sárgaságát gyógyította teával. Olyan buta voltam, hogy nem loptam el [= nem lestem el], hogy minek használták a teafélét, amit Szászvárosból hozott vagy Aradról, elment a piacra értük. Meg akarták operálni a vízhólyaggal [az apámat], és azt mondtam, ne engedje. Elment, hozott olyan teát, helyrejött vele. Én is úgy jártam, megállt a vizeletem, mikor hazajöttem a munkából, itt, [Maros]Vásárhelyen, még élt az öreg. „Édesapám, baj van!” Rögtön főzött, két kanállal tett csak, abból bevettem, és megindult a vizeletem. Én nem tudok semmit, apám nem mondott semmit. Apám lófarok teát, fuszulykahajból, kukoricahajból, csuszából, mindent használt. De jó kondícióban is volt, jobban ment, mint én. Másnak is csinált, adott. Tudta, milyen füvek, a határról szedte. A gyökeret az erdőkből szedte össze, a nagy fákat kivágták, és lettek olyan gyökerek, volt bogyója, azt a gyökeret szedtük ki, és adta be a patika részére.

A nagybátyámnak a felesége sárgaságban volt, hogy apám nem kezelte, azt mondta, hogy feljelenti apámat, hogy nem akarja a feleségét gyógyítani. Aztán rosszféle volt ez az asszony, én is gyermekkoromban elmartam, hogy ne járjon többet hozzánk, mert minden este vitt pityókát [krumplit] hozzánk a lerbe [a sütőbe], hogy tegye be, hogy csinált sült pityókát. A ler ki volt égve, és utoljára már beengedtem a lyukon vagy öt-hat pityókát, és akkor mondtam: „Eszti néni, elégett a pityókája!” Aztán többet így nem jött. Aztán én is jó csúf voltam egy kicsit, mert ha valamit csináltam valakivel, már szaladtam el. És egyszer elszaladtam, abban az időben nem volt deszka, hanem ilyen vesszőkerítés, beleakadt a kabátom a vesszőbe, és utolért apám, és akkor megvert.

Apám [Maros]Vásárhelyre szekérrel hozott fát eladni, egerfát [égerfát]. A posztókat ennek a fiatal fának a héjával megfestették feketére. Csak a patak mellett terem, olyan vastag fákat hasítottunk el, és akkor leöntötte ganélével, a nap megsütötte, úgy nézett ki, mint a jó száraz fa, és akkor behozta és adta el. Akkor azt mondta az egyik ember: „Jaj, magától nem veszek, mert folyt a leve.” Aztán hozta a bátyámat is, Bélát, és egyszer voltam én is apámmal.

Már hét éves voltam, mikor kezdtem az iskolát, már kezdtem járni a zsidó iskolába is, a héderbe, egyszer vagy kétszer egy héten. Minden héten volt vallásóra az iskolában, minden vallásnak. Külön volt szünidőben [vallásóra], ott, ahol volt a sakter lakása. Tanított zsidóul [héberül]. Különösen nyáron, a vakációban, akkor jártunk a zsidó iskolába. A bátyáim is jártak. Eszter nem. Addig jártam, amíg a saktert elvitték [deportálták].

Én jártam román iskolába. Egy tanító tanított, román volt. Románul tanultunk írni-olvasni, történelmet, mást is. Öttől hétig volt még egy másik tanító [hétosztályos volt az iskola], kettő volt, de tanultunk magyarul is. A magyart, aki tanította, úgy hívták, hogy Demjén. Meghúzta a fülemet, azt mondta: „Ha nem tetszik, nem énekelsz, menj Palesztinába!” Mondom: „Tanító úr, oda maga is elmenne.” Ez 1941-ben volt.

Nem tanultam mesterséget, mert apám feszt küldött kapálni. Tizenkét éves korban már kezdtünk kapálni. Béla bátyám nagyobb volt, együtt mentünk, de apám nem engedte, hogy tanuljuk meg a szabóságot. Nem hagyta. Elmagyarázta apám, hogy akinek a szakmája jó, az a szakmát el kell lopja. Ez tiszta igaz, el kell lopni [azaz: el kell lesni.]. Nekem nincs szakmám, de azért ha valaminek nekiállnék [varrni], még visszaemlékeznék valamire, de én azért szerettem volna, hogy jól megtanítson apám. Hát mit loptam el? Csak nadrágot és lájbit [mellényt] tudok varrni. Ha többet loptunk volna el, jobb lett volna, de úgy is jó volt, mert azt mondták a román katonaságnál a háború után: „A gombot fel tudja varrni?” „Igen.” „Na, be a műhelybe!” Ott aztán még tanult az ember.

Mikor bejöttek a magyarok 1940-ben [lásd: második bécsi döntés; magyar idők], egyszer berúgtak a bözödiek, felbuzdultak, s a bíróval az élen elindultak „tüntetni” [Bözöd]Újfaluba. Mikor értek a falu végére, a bíró azt kiáltotta: „Állj! A zsidókat ne bántsátok, csak az oláhokat!” Csodálkoztam, hogy a bözödiek miért haragudtak a románokra [Bözöd]Újfaluban, azok nem izéltek [beszéltek] egyáltalán semmit a magyarokról az 1930-as időben [amikor román fennhatóság alatt volt a terület]. Mikor volt valami összejövetel, ilyen ünnepély vagy szereplés vagy valami, román, magyar egyforma volt. Akkor meghallották a szomszédok [románok], ment az egyik, hogy akassza fel magát.

Volt olyan ellensége apámnak, hogy mikor a magyarok bejöttek, az az ember nagyban volt a bíróval, megmondta a németeknek, hogy apám orosz asszonyt hozott ide. Így aztán jól hasba ütötték apámat a puska tusával. A csendőrök is kérdezték, mondja meg őszintén, mikor leveleződött oroszból. Azt mondta apám, hát még az 1930-as időben. Aztán felhívatták a bíróhoz.

1940-ben, mikor bejöttek a magyarok, akkor aki zsidó volt, csillagot kellett hordani [1944 áprilisától kellett viselni a sárga csillagot. Lásd: sárga csillag Magyarországon. – A szerk.]. Akkor [Bözöd]Újfaluban voltam, úgy jártam leventének. Kellett járni fapuskával fel, Bözödre, mert [Bözöd]Újfaluban kevesen voltunk. Mikor mentünk, azt mondta az oktató, hogy „Miért nem énekel?” „Nem akarok.” Énekelték, hogy „Szólnak az ágyúk, ropognak a…, most válik meg babám, hogy mit ér a magyar gyerek” [A teljes szöveg a következőképpen hangzik: 1. Oroszország felé nem tudjuk mi az utat / Oroszország felé nem tudjuk mi az utat / főhadnagy úr, mutassa meg az utat / megmutatom, jó fiaim, én is elmegyek / a jó Isten tudja, ki jön vissza veletek. / 2. Gyertek, magyar fiúk, kik egyszerre születtünk / kik egyszerre komisz ruhát viselünk / mutassuk meg annak a de kutya muszkának / nincsen párja sehol az erdélyi bakának. / 3. Gyertek, magyar fiúk, húzzunk drótot ha lehet / közeledik már az orosz hadsereg / szólnak az ágyúk, robognak a masingeberek / majd elválik babám, mit ér egy magyar gyerek (www.szepi.hu /nota/nepdal/szoveg/Magyar katonadalok és énekek). – A szerk.]. Na, aztán mikor bejöttek az oroszok, aztán megmondta vagy két román: „Na, mit értetek? Nagy kutyagumit!” Ha nem jelentem meg mint levente, hajajaj, úgy elvertek, mint a lovat. A katolikus pap is oktató volt, rossz volt, azt mondta nekem, hogy: „Ha nem tetszik, menj Palesztinába!” De megkapta az övét aztán, megkapta a vacsoráját, megdobtam kővel [később egy esetben].

Mikor bejöttek a magyarok, nem engedtek többet temetkezni [zsidókat]. Ott vannak lerombolva a kövek [még most is]. Nincs, aki rendezze. Mikor ide [a marosvásárhelyi hitközséghez] beálltam, Sauber [Sauber Bernát, a hitközség elnöke – A szerk.] és nem tudom, még melyik volt, hárman mentek, megnézték a temetőt. Ott van az új úton, látszik, ahol volt a falu, még a hegyen maradtak házak, azzal szemben. Látszanak a sírkövek, de le vannak dőlve. 1943-ban a templomot is lebontották, elvitték a köveket, a padokat Bözödre. Mindenki ki kellett álljon, hogy hordja az anyagot, de arra nem emlékszek, hogy mi lett a Tórával. A fürdőt betöltötték. A sakter lakása megmaradt.

1943-ban már kezdték eltiltani a zsidó vallást, át kellett térjünk unitáriusnak, át kellett keresztelkedni a papnál. Akkor még ott is konfirmáltam.

[„1941 nyárelején vagyunk. Vészterhes, nehéz esztendő. Nagy események erőterében még tán három napig sem tartott, úgy elfelejtődött a legújabb újfalusi csoda, a ki tudja, hányadik vallásváltoztatás, kitérés, áttérés vagy visszatérés, ki hogy nevezi. Talán csak lelkük pásztora nem térhet napirendre az ügy fölött, miután igencsak megszaporodtak gondjai az egy igaz Isten így összetorlódott nyájában. / Nyáj – ez a helyes szó! Engedelmes-fásultan tartottuk fejünket egymás után a keresztvíz alá, az esperes úr elmondott valami szöveget, gyorsan nevet adott mindenkinek, kinek a régit, kinek újat, kívánsága szerint, és kegyszereivel sietett tovább, mert még sok házhoz volt hivatalos” (Kovács András: id. mű, 23–24.  oldal). – A szerk.]

Apámnak is, nekem is volt táleszünk, elástuk a földbe, jól be volt téve, valaki kellett lássa, mert mikor az oroszok elmentek, nem kaptuk meg.

1944. májusban kellett csomagolni, pokrócot, párnát, ezt-azt. Aztán behoztak ide, [Maros]Vásárhelyre, a téglagyárba, a gettóba. Szekérrel hoztak be, három szekérrel. Hárman voltunk, anyám, leánytestvérem, Eszter és én. A háború előtt a leánytestvérem elment Nyárádszeredába szolgálni. Tizennégy éves volt, mikor elment, öt évet volt egy helyen. A gazdájának a fia el akarta venni feleségül a testvéremet, volt cséplőgépjük, földjük volt, nagygazdák voltak, nem tudom a nevét, nem emlékezek. Öt év alatt kétszer volt haza, csupán kétszer. Ott szolgált, amíg kitört a háború. Bevitték a lágerbe a gazdáját, ő is zsidó volt.

Vagy hat vagy hét családot hoztak, a többit nem. A katolikus pap eljárta a pesti királyságnál [Kovács Pál Sámuel föltehetőleg a Magyar Királyi Igazságügyminisztériumra gondol. Lásd ehhez a 15. (ropko016.jpg katalógusszámú) fényképet. -- A szerk.], hogy akik eredetileg nem voltak zsidók, ne hozzák be. Így aztán jó pár család nem volt behozva. Apám nem volt behozva, mert kapott papírt, tanúsítványt, írja, hogy ők [az ő családja] katolikusok, átírták szombatosnak, így lettek zsidók. Ott voltunk egy jó hónapig. Az is igaz, hogy amikor előbb ki akarták engedni anyámat, akkor nem hagyta a leányát. Mikor a testvéremet engedték volna, akkor ő nem hagyta az anyját. Így ketten odamaradtak. Apám mikor vitték el a zsidókat, azt mondta, hogy elment egészen Pestig, a minisztériumba, hogy vegyék ki anyámat és a leányát – hát az már igaz, ő tudta, hogy ment, vagy nem ment. De azt mondta, hogy már késő volt, már a Feketeerdőn túl voltak, Németországhoz közel.

Engem Ráduly katolikus pap vett ki. Úgy számította, hogy ezen a valláson neki több híve lesz, csak nem sikerült. Azt mondta, kapott volna nagyobb titulát. Ezért csinálta, itt [a hitközségnél] mondta el a testvére, mert jött ide, hogy kapjon valamit, mert a testvére kivette a zsidókat [Bözöd]Újfaluból. Azt mondtam az elnöknek, Saubernek, hogy rögtön tessékelje ki, ha nem, én kergetem ki, olyan ideges lettem, mikor mondta, hogy kinek a testvére. Azután gondolkoztam, bántam, hogy miért nem mentem vissza [a gettóba], miért nem mentem velük [az anyámmal és a lánytestvéremmel] el.

A magyar időben Oszkár [Kovács Pál Sámuel féltestvére, aki apja első, ugyancsak Harkovban, későbbi második felesége testvérével kötött házasságából született. – A szerk.] Erdőszentgyörgyön volt segédkereskedő. Oszkár le volt akkor már szerelve, volt az orosz fronton egy évig [kb. az 1942–43-as években], légnyomást kapott, és leszereltették. Egész bent volt Moszkváig, aztán leszereltették. A gazdáját Karácsonyinak hivták, egy magas [rangú] magyar tiszt volt, elmenekült, mielőtt bejöttek az oroszok. Ez olyan 1944-ben volt. Nagy üzlet volt, és a kulcsot elvitte a gazdája, a bátyám ott maradt egy kicsi szobában. Betörtek a németek, a konyhában mulattak, volt ott egy zongora, a gazdájának volt zongorája, volt egy nő, az is odament. A németek be voltak állva az autóval, amikor én lementem a bátyámhoz, Erdőszentgyörgyre. Bátyámnak a szobájában volt egy katona. Mondom: „Itt van egy fiatalember valahol.” Azt mondja: „Benn van egy nővel, zongoráznak…” Mondom a katonának, hogy hívja ki. Ő már nem megy, ő már nem mer. Az is el volt fogva, magyar katona volt, mert nem volt semmi derékszíja, semmi. Hanem bementem én a konyhába, ott mulattak, és így köszöntem: „Heil Hitler!” Volt ott egy olyan vastag fa balta, és a német elkezdte ütni a lábamat. Én nem húztam magamat kifelé, hanem kiáltottam a bátyámnak, hogy „Oszkár, gyere ki, mert ütnek agyon”. Akkor kijött, de már kék voltam, úgy megvertek, úgy sírtam, hát mi voltam, tizenöt-tizenhat éves [17 éves volt.  – A szerk.], és akkor odajött a bátyám, és azt mondta: „Ereszd el – ugye jól tudott németül –, ereszd el, mert az öcsém.” Akkor a katona így megveregette a vállamat, hogy bocsánat, mert azt hitte, hogy „spion”. Elég az hozzá, megfogta a kezemet az a német, odavitt az autóhoz, és adott két doboz cigarettát és három nagy csokoládét. Mert anyámért hogy búsultam, hát nekifogtam cigarettázni.

[Oszkár története mindenképpen érdekes történet. A képek között látható egy, az 1940-es évek elején készült kép (ropko008.jpg) , ahol a magyar kir. honvédség katonájaként van lefényképezve, egyenruhában, katonasapkában (amin rajta van a sapkarózsa is – a zsidó munkaszolgálatosoknak nemhogy egyenruhájuk nem volt, de még a sapkarózsát is le kellett szedniük a katonasapkáról, amit az egyenruhából egyedül megtarthattak). Kovács Oszkár tehát nem munkaszolgálatosként volt a fronton, holott anyja orosz zsidó származású asszony volt. A valószínű magyarázat a következő: Kovács Pál Sámuel birtokában van egy, a magyar kir. igazságügy-miniszter által 1942 májusában, Budapesten kiadott „Tanúsítvány” arról, hogy őt mint unitárius vallásút és mint erdélyi szombatosok ivadékát, nem érintik a zsidókra vonatkozó rendelkezések („Az 1941:IV.t.c. 16. §-ában foglalt felhatalmazás alapján kiadott 71.000/1941. I. M. számu rendelet 1. §-a alapján tanusitom, hogy Kovács Pál Samu, aki Bözödujfalun, 1927. évi március hó 25. napján született Kovács Antal és Vulfovics Róza házasságából és unitárius vallásu, mint erdélyi szombatosok ivadéka az 1939:IV. törvénycikk, az 1941:XV. törvénycikk és a zsidókra vonatkozó egyéb jogszabályok alkalmazása szempontjából a nemzsidókkal esik egy tekintet alá. Házasságot azonban nemcsak zsidóval, hanem olyan személlyel is tilos kötnie, akinek egy vagy két nagyszülője az izraelita hitfelekezet tagjaként született. A jelen tanusitványban megnevezett személyek hatósági eljárás során, nemzsidó származásának igazolása végett a 71.000/1941. I. M. számu rendelet 3. §-a értelmében további okiratok bemutatását követelni nem lehet”). Ugyanilyen „tanúsítvánnyal” föltehetően Oszkár bátyja is rendelkezett, vagyis ő sem számított zsidó származásúnak. – A szerk.]

A második világháborúban, ahogy vonultak vissza a németek, apámat behívták. Apám tudott németül, a fogságban tanult meg [az első világháború idején]. Toplicára volt behíva, ment jelentkezni, de a parancsnokság el volt menekülve, akkor már az oroszok ott voltak, apám beszélt oroszul is perfekt [„A háború után ő volt az egyetlen a faluban, aki hosszas oroszországi fogságából még tudott oroszul. Így ő tartotta a kapcsolatot a szovjet katonákkal” (Kovács András: id. mű, 253.  oldal). –  A szerk.].

Majdnem senki sem jött vissza a deportálásból. Oda maradt Hiller Simon, ő is földműves volt, ők szegények voltak, mikor én születtem, ez a Hiller már ott lakott. Schwartz suszter volt, elvitték családostól, és a leányát Sárinak hívták. Ő visszajött Siklódra [23 km (Bözöd)Újfalutól], oda ment férjhez, ismert minket, és akkor volt nálunk még 1945-ben, akkor elmondta, látta, mikor vitték be a gázkamrába a nőket. Még voltak olyan nők megmaradva, akiknek volt rajtuk anyajegy, azokat elégették mind. Sári aztán elment Izraelbe. A saktert hamarább vitték el, munkaszolgálatra, a családját egyszerre vitték be, mikor minket vittek, senki sem jött vissza.

1945–1946-ban mentem Bözödre, mert ott volt Márton bátyámnak a fia, ott lakott, és akkor azt mondta egy ember: „Kicsi Tóni, gyere be.” Elmentem be, azt mondta, hogy apám örömében iszik, hogy elvitték a feleségét. Na és akkor mikor hazajöttem ide, aztán elmondtam neki a „Miatyánkot”. Rákiabáltam. Aztán amikor agyvérzést kapott, azt mondta, hogy „Na, fiam, most már visszaadhatod, amit adtam” [Arra utalt, hogy most már ki van szolgáltatva a fiának. – A szerk.].

Kovács Oszkár anyám testvérének volt a fia, de anyám nem éreztette, hogy a nagyobbik bátyám nem édesfia. Akkor tudta meg a bátyám, hogy nem édesanyja, mikor leszerelt a katonaságtól – valaki megmondta. Addig nem volt semmi probléma, örökké küldte a csomagot a katonaságba. Mind a két bátyám úgy jártak iskolába, se irka, se könyv, semmi. A hét osztályt kijárták [Bözöd]Újfaluban. Béla és Oszkár olyan tanulók voltak, hogy elsők. A bátyám, Oszkár elment inasnak a háztól, majd Dicsőbe [Dicsőszentmártonba] ment kereskedőnek.

Háború után Oszkár üzletet nyitott, kereskedő volt [Bözöd]Újfaluban egészen 1947-ig. Mindenfélét árult, cukrot és ezt-azt. Járt be ide, [Maros]Vásárhelyre, innen szerezte az árut. Vette pénzért a diókat, azt a jófajta diót, olyan nagyokat, éjjel törtük meg – még a zsebemet is megraktam dióval –, és hozta be, és kapott mindenféle árut a dióbélért. Annyi áruja volt, nem sokat állott az áruja. Jól ment neki, volt kocsmája is. Hanem aztán a kocsma az örökké tele volt. Volt ital, én jártam egy faluban, vittem italt a hátamon, akkor voltam tizenhét-tizennyolc éves. Csókfalván [12 km (Bözöd)Újfalutól, ma Cioc, Trei Sate, azaz Hármasfaluhoz tartozó egyik falu. – A szerk.] volt egy köteles híd keresztül a Küküllőn, ahol két tízliteres korsóval az átalvetőben átmentem, a kezemben is öt litret, huszonöt litret vittem. Na és akkor mit kaptam? Kutyagumit, pedig bátyám volt… Az üzlet ment vagy négy, öt, hat évet. Aztán elvették az üzletet [lásd: államosítás Romániában], mert tulajdonképpen a falué volt, a községházé volt az üzlethelyiség.

1948-ban házasodott, a felesége egy havadtői [az egykori Maros-Torda vm.-ben lévő kisközség volt] fehérnép. Lőrinczi Erzsinek hívták. Az oroszokkal összeadta magát. Apám perfekt tudott oroszul, Erdőszentgyörgyön volt tolmács, és látta, hogy az oroszokkal mit csinált. Mondta, hogy „Ne vedd el, mert né, ilyen és olyan és minden”. Az oroszokkal jóban volt, és akkor a fehérnépnek vittek vagy öt vagy hat zsák lisztet az oroszok. [Bözöd]Újfaluban született egy gyereke Erzsinek és Oszkárnak, Kovács Laci. Már volt egy gyermeke, volt az üzlete, és én észrevettem, hogy jár oda a pap, a katolikus pap, Ráduly István. Összegyűjtöttem egy halom követ, és akkor mikor kiment ángyom, kővel megeresztettem a papot – ilyen feje volt, úgy megdobtam. Ángyomnak a mellét dobtam meg, el kellett menjen Erdőszentgyörgyre az orvoshoz. Onnan tudta meg a pap, hogy én voltam, hogy bementem [az üzletbe], mikor a pap elment, és mondtam a bátyámnak, aki elöl árult: „Na menj, kérdezd meg [a papot], ezelőtt egy tíz-tizenöt perccel hol volt. Mondja meg.” Aztán úgy mondta meg a papnak, hogy én dobtam meg. Másképp nem tudta volna meg, aztán azt mondta nekem a pap, hogy „Most megiszom a véredet”. Később Oszkárnak nagy funkciója volt, gestionar [üzletvezető] volt, jól ment az üzlet, beruházta magát bútorral, mindennel, egyszer csak valami hiányzott, és el kellett adjon mindent, mert ha nem, bezárták volna. Tudja, hogy hogy van, nem elég ennyi, hanem kell több. Ez úgy 1948 körül volt. Elköltöztek aztán Kolozsvárra, onnan Aninoasára [Aninósza bányatelepre], Petrozsény mellett, ott volt üzletes. Ott született egy leányka, Kovács Ildikó, aztán férjhez ment, volt itt vagy négy-öt éve, és siratta az apját. Bátyám ott halt meg, ötvenegy éves volt.

Senkivel a családból nem tartom a kapcsolatot. Engem nem érdekelt semmi, nem akarok hallani az ángyomról [Oszkár feleségéről], a fiáról semmit. Ők már keresztények, itt maradtak Romániában. Azt írta nekem az ángyom, hogy ha valami történik a családban, gondoljunk rá. Az történt, hogy a bátyámat ki kellett volna fizessem, amíg élt, háromezer lejt akart, és akkor bátyám meghalt Petrozsényban. És én elvittem hatezer lejt, és azt akartam, hogy írjam a nevemre az ők részüket [a házrészt], miután apám meghalt. Először a hármat nem vette el, vittem hatot, azt sem vette el, akkor én bepereltem őket. [Bözöd]Újfaluban, amíg a lakás ott volt, a bátyámnak a részébe adtam egy nagy istállót, és akkor a bátyám jött ide, ahelyett a csacsi fejemmel oda kellett volna hogy adjam a háromezer lejt, és menjünk a közjegyzőhöz, aláírta volna, és nem lett volna semmi pereskedés.

Kovács Béla bátyám arany gyerek volt, apám őt nem verte, alig egy kicsit szidta meg. Ő jó testvér volt. Volt katona a magyar hadseregben [a második világháború alatt], Prundon volt [ma Prundu-Bârgăului], ez Beszterce [Naszód] megyében van, én is jártam ott delegációban üres zsákért [a háború után]. Aztán jöttek be az oroszok, és akkor ment el egy csapat, és kinn volt a határon, és hallotta, mikor mentek el. Akkor a patakon keresztül egy román családhoz bement, átöltözött, ledobta a katonaruhát, kapott ilyen román harisnyát, inget, egy rossz bakancsot, és akkor mikor elfogták az oroszok, kérdezték, hogy „mi vagy?”. Azt mondja, román, és akkor elengedték. Ha azt mondta volna, magyar, nem engedték volna el. Aztán megnősült 1949-ben, itt, [Bözöd]Újfaluban, eredeti zsidó nővel, Nagy Piroskának hívták [az előző férje után Nagy]. Az anyja, Kovács Rózsika Gyergyószentmiklóson lakott, az édesapja, Kovács Mendel meghalt, és akkor leköltöztek [az anyjával] [Bözöd]Újfaluba, mert akihez költözött [Piroska], az embernek a felesége meghalt. Ő suszter volt, és összeálltak. Nagy Jakabnak hívták, volt egy testvére, Nagy Hermán, az is suszter volt. Aztán meghalt Nagy Jakab is.

Apám el akarta venni bátyámnak, a Bélának az anyósát, ő nem bánta volna. De a leánya nem engedte, a bátyám se. Egy hét múlva megfogták a vénasszonyt, hazavitték. Akkor azt mondta apám: „Az Isten ne mentsen meg a vándorlástól.”

Béla megvette a zsidó sakter lakását. Három gyerekük lett, itt születtek: Kovács Miklós, Ibolya és Eszter. Dolgozott, gyümölcsfákat oltott, ő kijárta a hét osztályt. Aztán jött a társas gazdaság [lásd: kollektív Romániában], és akkor brigádos volt a néptanácsnál, küldték leszerződni a cukorrépát, vagy ami volt. Aztán a bátyám leköltözött Erdőszentgyörgyre, nem bírta már, mert társas gazdaság volt, [és nem akart beállni,] és akkor kitették karikatúrába a bátyámat és ángyomat. Azt mondták nekem: „Na menj, nézd meg, ki van téve a bátyád.” Ott mentem el, hát tényleg ki voltak rajzolva. A falu közepén volt egy tábla, amire kitűztek mindenfélét, és az volt írva, hogy „Icurkám, picurkám, beállok, nem állok, ó, még várok…”. És az ángyomnak a fején kalap volt, és a bátyámnak kendő a fején [A kor parasztellenes – és nem mellesleg, patriarchálisan nőellenes – ikonográfiájában egy fejkendős férfi valószínűleg azt jelentette, hogy „a nő hordja a kalapot”, a férje pedig egy pipogya fráter. – A szerk.]. Nem akartak beállni a társasba, bevették kuláknak, mert a feleségének az anyjának volt birtoka.

Azután a bátyám beadta a papírt, és elmentek. 1964-ben mentek Izraelbe, az anyósával. A bátyámnak az anyósa, Kovács Rózsika is vallásos volt, tartották addig, amíg elmentek, és aztán ott még jobban. Hat évet élt a bátyám, amíg élt, írt, aztán meghalt. Megoperálták, hátul volt egy csomó [daganat], és belehalt. Negyvennyolc éves volt. A három gyermek ott van mind. És amikor Béla meghalt, ángyomnak a testvére írt levelet az apámnak: „Tóni bácsi, most kiveheti a szálkát a szeméből, mert a fia meghalt” [Úgy kell érteni, hogy feloldhatja az átkát. – A szerk.]. Az ángyom özvegy volt három évig, és hozzáment egy gyártulajdonoshoz, Pardes Hannában, ott nagy a narancstermés. Valameddig ott éltek együtt, aztán ángyom bánatában meghalt, agyvérzést kapott, mert akihez hozzáment, az meghalt, és annak a gyermekei kitették, pedig hagyott rá egy szobát.

Béla nagyobbik leánya, Ibolya asszisztensnő a kórháznál. A másik, Eszter hébertanár. A lányok nem írnak, pedig a kisebbik [Eszter] ott volt Magyarországon, és idejöhetett volna, de nem jött. Miklós [Béla fia] okos volt, Erdőszentgyörgyön laktak, ott járt iskolába. Nagyon jó feje volt, és akkor katonai iskolába küldték, mikor kimentek. Rá egy évre Amerikába küldték eszmecserére. Ott volt, nem tudom, hány évet, és úgy jött ki mint őrnagy, nagy ranggal, aztán beállt a Bnei Brakba, a nagy vallásosok közé [Egy 2002-es izraeli felmérés szerint Bnei Brak egyike a legvallásosabb városoknak az országban. – A szerk.]. Valaki ott járt, mondta, hogy pénteken délután idegen be oda nem megy egész szombat estig. Fogalmam sincs, miért lett olyan nagy vallásos. Küldött nekem dollárt, küldött egy táleszt, két kápedlit. Egyiket elvesztettem, olyan szép kék volt. Van nekem még kettő, mind a kettő fehér, mondtam a leányomnak, az egyiket fesse meg kékre. [Miklósnak] Hét gyermeke van, a kisebbik fiú és hat leány. A felesége marokkói. Küldött nekem tíz dollárt borítékban [két ötdolláros bankjegyet]. Az elsőt elköltöttem, a másodikat ellopták innen a házból. Bele volt csomagolva fehér papírba, és mikor mentem, hogy vegyem onnan, ki volt véve, és a fehér papír ott volt maradva.

Akik felszabadultak a háború után, visszaálltak zsidónak, a vallást csak otthon tartották, apám is, mind otthon tartották. Nem volt sakter se, de a könyvek megvoltak, tudtunk imádkozni. Annyit elfelejtettem, de amit a Tóránál kell, tudok olvasni, apámnak két könyve van, és sokszor kikeresem, amit kell, hogy mit kell imádkozni. Volt, amelyik maradt az unitáriuson.

Apámmal ketten voltunk. Vitt oda egy fehérnépet házvezetőnőnek, mosni és minden. Míg főzött, utálatos is, hogy mondjam, de megláttam, hogy rántott valamit [étel berántásáról van szó], és az orra belecseppent. Egy kerek hétig olyan beteg voltam, hogy azt mondtam apámnak, ha nem küldi el, megyek el. Elküldte, és akkor a testvérét hívta annak a nőnek, és azzal is csak úgy járt, akkor hívott egy másikat. Az is zsidó nő volt, de nem tudott főzni, mert az ura suszter volt, a vendéglőben ettek, a krumplit megfőzte, és úgy csinált gulyást.

Apám csúf volt, egy kerek évig ütötte a fejemet [a szó szoros értelmében – A szerk.]. El kellett menjek Szentkeresztbányára, Oláhfalu [Kápolnás(oláh)falu, Udvarhely m.] mellett, gyalog mentem. Otthagytam apámat, azt sem mondtam, bújj seggembe, semmit. Ott dolgoztam a vasöntödében, önteni a kályhát, vasalót, ezt-azt. Ott voltam egy évet. Apám ágáról volt rokon a tulajdonos. Az is valami székely származásúak voltak, nagyanyám ágáról kellett legyen rokon, tisztán nem emlékezek. Gyermekkoromban vitt apám [Székely]Udvarhelyre, szekérrel vitt fel valami árut, és akkor onnan tudtam meg, úgy hívták azokat, hogy Bajcsik, és azok [Székely]Udvarhelyről elköltöztek Szentkeresztbányára. Akkor mikor odamentem, mert muszáj volt, a két fia – az egyik mozigépész volt, és a másik villanyszerelő – azt mondták: „Jól tetted, fiam, jól tetted!” – még ott is sírtam. Azt mondtam a [nagy]bátyámnak, adjál kenyeret, szalonnát, pedig jóformán addig meg sem ettem, a vallásért nem, mert nyugodjék, anyám nagyon kóseres volt.

Vonatra tizenhét éves koromban ültem először, mert jöttem haza Szentkeresztbányáról, 1948-ban, vagy lehet, hogy több voltam [21 éves volt. – A szerk.]. De sokat nem ültem ott, mert Erdőszentgyörgyön összeszedtek, [és elvittek] Bakóba. Erdőszentgyörgyön volt egy Mordéháj Elemér nevű, ő szervezte az  ifjúsági cionista csoportot, akik ott voltunk felkészítésen a bakói kibucban. Az vitt hatunkat, három fiút, engem, Kovács Mihályt és Lajost [Béla bátyja feleségének a testvérei] és három leányt. A három leány, ez is Kovács família volt, de más. Volt Kovács Teréz, Helén és Mariska. Azok tizenegyen voltak testvérek. A nagyobbik fiú 1940 előtt ment ki Izraelbe [Palesztinába], és a másik fiú, egy évvel idősebb, mint én, újságszerkesztő volt Kolozsvárt [Kovács Andrásra, a „Vallomás a székely szombatosok perében” könyv írójára utal itt Kovács Pál Sámuel. – A szerk.]. Helén később hozzáment egy szombatoshoz, és a szombatos nagyon durva volt vele, és csinált négy gyermeket vele. Dicső[szentmártono]n felül, Királyfalván voltak, leköltöztek Dicső[szentmárton]ba, és ez a Helén a vonat alá dobta magát. A nagyobbik testvére Izraelből segíti a négy gyermeket.

Hét hónapot voltam csak Bakóban. [Bözöd]Újfaluból csinált csoportot, voltunk vagy harmincan [Bakóban]. Nagyvárad, Medgyes, románok is voltak Olténiából. Tanultuk a hébert, héber éneket, aztán ott egy nagy kert volt, és a kertet kellett kapálni, hát minket nem kellett tanítsanak. Ez az Elemér tanított, pedig ott, Erdőszentgyörgyön egy úri családnak a fia volt. Ügyes, tanult fiú volt, aztán volt – azt már nem ismertem, annak a nevét –, aki főnök volt. Odatettek engemet, hogy gondozzam a tehenet. Én biza untam, és azt mondtam, hogy adják át másnak. Aztán így jártam a deszkagyárba, mindenik fiú dolgozott, de leányok egy sem, nem jártak munkába. Ami pénzt adtak a gyárban, azzal tartottuk fenn ezt a kibuct. A leányok közül is voltak nagyleányok, vénleányok, vagy négyen voltak, és a többi fiatalabbak. Volt egy fiatal, tizennyolc éves, az bement a vécébe, felállott a vécére, a villany hozzáért a hajához, és ott halt meg a vécében, megfeketedett, elégett.

Felbomlott a kibuc, és mindenki hazament. Előttünk vittek el egy csoportot, kettőt is Izraelbe [Palesztinába], minket nem vittek el. Voltunk vagy harmincan, pedig jó lett volna, ha elvittek volna. Adtak bakancsot, adtak ruhát. Így aztán hazakerültünk. Kovács Mihály, a bátyámnak a sógora, de nem voltunk rokonok, olyan rossz jegyet vett, hogy Mádéfalván letettek engemet a kontrolok, elvették a buletint [személyazonosságit]. Akkor jöttem gyalog [Bözöd]Újfaluba, haza. Apám elindult, elment Bakóba, mert írtam, hogy né, bomlik fel, ment előmbe, és elkerültük egymást Csíkszeredában. Jöttem, volt valami olyan patakféle, Gyimesen túl, odajött egy öregasszony, olyan magas, szálas asszony volt, azt mondja nekem: „Ce ieşti, romano catolic?” [Mi vagy, római katolikus?] Hát nem tudtam jól románul, mondom neki: „Eu sunt unitarie.” [Én unitárius vagyok (hibás románsággal).] Gondolkozik, és akkor: „Nu ştii româneşte?” [Nem tudsz románul?] Mondom: „Puţin.” [Kicsit.] Hát [Bözöd]Újfaluban egy szót sem tudtam, csak írni és olvasni, mint a vízfolyás. Öt osztályt jártam a románba, de nem értettem, hogy mit olvasok, mit írok. És akkor láttam az öregasszonyt, a fejével intett, ott még valaki kellett legyen, azt úgy küldték, mert volt egy hátizsák a hátamon. Volt egy bicskám, és valahogy kivettem a zsebemből, és gondoltam, ha valami történik, hát ütöm bele a vénasszonyba, de a többiek ott kikészítettek volna, biztos. Aztán elment a vénasszony, egy kicsi vonat járt fel a hegyek közé, és akkor felmentem a kicsi vonattal Csíkszentgyörgyre [16 km Csíkszeredától], és ott megháltam. Hát olyan helyen háltam meg, hogy isten őrizzen, úgy megteltem bolhával, hogy mikor Csíkszeredán átmentem, és onnan mentem [Székely]Udvarhely felé, volt egy erdő, ott tiszta csurdéra levetkeztem, úgy ráztam ki a bolhákat valahogy. Másnap reggel apám is hazakerült.

És akkor öt hónap múlva kaptam egy behívót, azzal bennmaradtam katonának, de amíg nem kaptam meg, addig dolgoztam Dicső[szentmárton]ban. Csinálták az utat Medgyes felé, és a két sógorom, Béla bátyám feleségének a két testvére, hárman voltunk Dicső[szentmárton]ban, ott dolgoztunk, és aztán ők elmentek Izraelbe, mind a ketten. Még volt egy fiú, mind a hárman elmentek Izraelbe, nem sokat ültek, valamennyit ültek, és onnan elmentek Németországba.

Turnu Severinbe és Rădăuciban, Suceva megyében voltam katona két évig. Apám nem küldött csomagot, mert elment Izraelbe. Apám 1949-ben ment ki Izraelbe, egyedül, eladott mindent, kapott pasaportot [útlevelet], és elment. Volt két jó tulok [ökör], eladta a két tulkot, eladta a gabonát, a holmit, egyet s mást eladott. A házat és a földet nem. Nekem hagyott az öreg egy véka törökbúzát [kukoricát].

Április 26-án, 1952-ben leszereltem. Nem mentem [Bözöd]Újfaluba, hanem elmentem Aninoasára, Petrozsény mellett, ott volt a bátyám kereskedő, gestionar volt. Hosszabbítottam a jegyet, és úgy elbeszélgettünk. Mikor elmentem Petrozsényba, a vonatom elment, a bátyám adott egy inget nekem, akkor azt az inget eladtam, annyi pénzt kaptam, hogy vonatra elég volt, még maradt egy lej. Egyenesen jöttem ide, [Maros]Vásárhelyre. Itt volt az unokatestvérem, Bözsi, Márton [nagy]bátyámnak a leánya. Geres Feri volt a férje. A vonattal megérkeztem, elmentem oda, mert azelőtt megtudtam, hogy hol lakik. A Szentgyörgy utcában, a kórházon innen, és mikor bementem, azt mondta, az éjjel itt aludhatsz, de többet nem. Az unokatestvérem mondta, olyan rosszféle volt. A férje nem szólott semmit. Nem volt gyerekük. Akkor május elseje volt, volt a főtéren a felvonulásért a tribün, és a tribün alatt aludtam két éjjel. Azzal az egy lejjel, ami maradt, vettem egy veknit. Még volt, aki adott, mondtam, most szereltem le, nincs még pénzem.

1952-ben, mikor leszereltem, akartam menni a szekuritátéhoz börtönőrnek. Ott volt egy katona barátom, ő mondta. Akkor adták a papírt, hogy mit vegyek ki a közjegyzőségtől [Székely]Udvarhelyen. Tiszta gyalog innen [Marosvásárhelyről] mentem, gyalog vissza. A Frida keresztanyám mondta, hogy „Hadd el, fiam, egyik lábad a börtönben, és a másik a puşcăriában [román: börtönben], ha valamelyik elszökik”. Kóboroltam három vagy négy napot, a sörtöltődében is, onnan elmentem, mert felfogadtam, hogy én miért legyek részeges, mért szokjam meg, inkább elmentem onnan. Aztán kerestem kovártélyt, és olyan kovártélyt kaptam, az isten őrizzen, a kuffert feltörték, volt élelem, minden. Aztán kezdtem menni dolgozni, és aztán volt pénzem. Egy pár napra, miután kezdtem dolgozni, elmentem [Bözöd]Újfaluba, a bátyámhoz, Béla bátyámhoz. „Na – azt mondja – jó, hogy jöttél!”, mert éppen a sógora érkezett oda. Mondtam a bátyámnak: „Hallgass ide, apámtól nem maradt semmi?” Azt mondta, hogy „Hát, egy véka törökbúzát hagyott neked”.

Apám öt évet ült Izraelben, 1955-ben jött vissza. Dolgozott a gyümölcsösben. Az öreg szeretett dolgozni, de aztán ott is folytatta a szabóságot. Pedig ott a zsidók csinálnak elegáns mindent, de ott kapott munkát. Azt mondta apám, hogy ha én ott lettem volna, akkor nem jött volna vissza, mert akkor nem unta volna magát. [Bözöd]Újfaluba jött vissza, együtt lakott egy Csukor Róza nevű nővel, de nem házasodtak össze. Ő is zsidó volt, nem volt deportálva, kapott igazolványt [hogy átkeresztelkedett]. Az ura meghalt már előtte. A testvére, Csukor Mózsi gazdálkodó volt. Ezeknek is sok földjük volt. Apám azért is akarta, mert ennek az asszonynak volt földje. Akkor apám kezdte használni. Sokat nem ült apám a nővel, mert megzavarodott a nő. Elvitték Dicső[szentmárton]ba [Itt van a környék ismert idegszanatóriuma, az idők során jelző értéke lett a helységnévnek a környéken, a mai napig is a bolondok házával asszociálják. – A szerk.], aztán a járványkórházba vitték, ott halt meg. 1959-ig ült [Bözöd]Újfaluban apám, szabósággal foglalkozott. Egyszer megkerestem, vittem a fiamat is, aztán többet nem mentem, mert ő jött be [Marosvásárhelyre]. Hetven éves lehetett az öreg, mert tíz évet tartottuk.

Aztán a malomban dolgoztam, a Sörház utcában [ma Sinaia utca], de csak másfél évet voltam, mert a malmot lebontották, elvitték Kolozsvárra, akkor mondtam a főmolnárnak, Sólyom Jánosnak hívták, hogy „Van hely nekem?”. Azt mondta, hogy „Öt perc múlva megmondom”, és már lépett, és mondta, „Na, holnap reggel jelentkezzen”, úgy aztán onnan jöttem nyugdíjba, innen, a Kossuth utcából. Az igazgató, Schwartz Mendel az zsidó volt, az is elment Izraelbe, 1963, 1964-ben. Kérdezte, hogy „Hova való?”, hát innen, né, Bözödújfaluból, és már tudta is. Kihallgatott mindent, fülitől farkáig, aztán minden trimeszterben ötszáz lej prémiumot adott nekem. Aztán elkaptak, hogy ki akartam vinni a malomból egy tarisznya lisztet. Bevittek az irodába ehhez a Schwartzhoz, „Na – azt mondja, kacagta – aztán többet ilyent ne csinálj!”, de ő tudta úgyis, hogy mindenki csinálja. A káderest megláttam, a hóna alatt vitte a lisztet a tarisznyával, és akkor én is kezdtem. Harminc évig dolgoztam ott.

Eléggé kerestem, gondolkoztam, hogy zsidó lányt vegyek feleségül, nem kaptam. [A katonaságkor] Rădăuţi-on a főtéren láttam egy jó zömök leánykát, nem volt magas. Kérdem, hogy „román?”.. „Nem”, azt mondja [románul], mert nem tudott magyarul, én is csak haraptam a szót románul. Kérdem, hogy „Evreu?” [román: zsidó], na igen. Na menjünk, egy kicsit sétáljunk, elmentünk sétálni, mondom, én is az vagyok, született zsidó vagyok. Ő azt mondja, „Na, jövő vasárnap elviszem apámhoz, a szüleimhez”. Aztán csak nem mentem el, nem akartam ott maradni, odaragadtam volna. Hanem vártam, hogy szereljek le. De jó is lett volna… [Bözöd]Újfaluból el voltak menve [a zsidó lányok]. Egyet akartam, de férjhez ment Csopolára egy magyar fiúhoz. Pedig mikor leszereltem, kérdezte a bátyámtól, hogy vajon nem akarok nősülni. S azt mondtam, ötvenéves korig nem nősülök, s a másik évben megnősültem, muszáj volt. Olyan helyen voltam kovártélyban, hogy annyi ruszli bogár volt, hogy el kellett költözzek. Efraimnak a felesége, Frida volt a második keresztanyám. Náluk laktam egy hónapot, mielőtt megnősültem. A Dózsa György utcában, pont a Vinalkohol [Vinalcol nevű cég épülete. – A szerk.] mellett, ők haszonbérben voltak, nem volt a sajátjuk. Aztán elmentek Izraelbe. Volt egy leányuk, nyolc-tíz éves, mikor mentek.

1953-ban nősültem meg. A feleségemet Sükösd Irénnek hívták. Irén falusi volt, itt dolgozott a városban, a kertészetben. A főtéren megszólítottam, és aztán beszélgettünk. Aztán egész karácsony előttig nem beszélgettünk. Karácsony előtt egy héttel találkoztunk, és elvitt a nénjéhez, mert ő kovártélyban volt ott. A főtéren lakott. Rózának hívták, az ura után Bakó. Elég az hozzá, találkoztunk, és újév első napjára elmentünk [Székely]Csókába [17 km Marosvásárhelytől] a szüleihez, és akkor meg is kértem. Az anyósom testvére is ott volt, odakerült, mert ott már kisebb volt a falu: „Na, jönnek Kovácsék, már jönnek.”

Aztán ott volt egy zsidó család, valami Efraim, nem tudom már a másik nevét, és az mondta el, hogy én zsidó vagyok. Egyedül volt, nem volt gyermeke, ott a faluban gazdálkodott, földműves, volt sok földje. Ez úgy 1952-53-ban lehetett, még mielőtt a leánykérésre került volna a sor. Neki volt még egy testvére a városban [Marosvásárhelyen], Efraim Lajos, onnan tudta. Az elvitt oda [Székely]Csókába, hogy segítsek, hogy hozzunk egy szekér herét, és akkor úgy mondta meg, hogy én zsidó vagyok. Akkor, amikor megkértem, én akkor is azt mondtam, hogy én zsidó vagyok. „Ha akarja, adja [a lányt], és ha nem, fújja fel!” – ezt mondtam apósomnak. Akkor mikor megesküdtünk, valamennyi időre hallottam valakitől, hogy az anyósom azt mondta a feleségemnek, hogy „hagyd el ezt a zsidót”. Azt mondta nekik, hogy semmi közük. Nem tartottunk esküvőt, jóformán még ebéd se volt. Nem volt vallásos esküvő, hanem csak polgári. Irén elemi iskolát végzett, a kertészetben dolgozott itt, a városban. Aztán megtanulta, és varrta itthon a kesztyűt. Még én is segítettem.

Miután összeházasodtunk, kovártélyba költöztünk hét évet, a Szabadi utcába. A leányom 1953-ban született, Kovács Ibolya, Sándor, a fiam 1955-ben született. Egy kicsi kuckóban voltunk négyen, egy szoba-konyhában, fürdőszoba semmi. A lakáshivataltól kaptunk kiutalást, úgy szerezte valaki. Húsz lej házbért fizettem a házigazdának, nem volt drága. Bertának hívták a házigazdát, ő a lányával és a fiával lakott, és még volt három lakó. Fával tüzeltünk.

Szabadságon nem voltunk sehol, soha. Én voltam kezelésre Oláhszentgyörgyön és Slanic Moldován ivókúrára. Volt kilenc forrás. Meg volt számozva, aztán az orvos megmondta, hogy melyiket ihatom. Sok volt a savam. A feleségemet nem vittem a gyermekekért. Kire hagyja? Szórakozni elvittem egyszer színházba, mert szerette.

Apám mondta, beszélgettünk, hogy „Hát fiam, aztán úgy határoztam, hogy megyek hozzád”. Be akart jönni, mert spekulált, mert neki volt pénze, Izraelből volt dollárja, vagy nem tudom, mi. A CEC-ben [takarékszövetkezet románul] tartotta. Bélával már haragban volt, mert az anyósát nem akarta engedni, hogy apám vele lakjon. És akkor apám rám íratta a házat, elmentünk Székelykeresztúrra [nem ott voltak a papírok, hanem csak egy közjegyző kellett], egy közjegyző hivatalosan tette a nevemre. Apámat behoztam 1959-ben, olyan szigorúság volt, hogy nem lehetett senkit behozni, és én behoztam ide, hozzám, Erdőszengyörgyről hoztam egy orvosi igazolást, hogy beteg [lásd: a szabad helyváltoztatás korlátozása Romániában]. Akkor még a régi ház volt. És akkor azt mondta az apám, „hát a fiam olyan lágy [természetű], hogy nem épít”. Hát hová építsek? Az öreget hova tegyem? Negyedmagammal voltam elöl. És akkor idejöttek ötön, a néptanácstól, milicia, hogy én hogy hoztam be apámat. Pont tíz évet volt itt [az apám]. Apám mikor idekerült hozzánk, elment a közjegyzőhöz, és visszavette a nevére [a házat], ilyent csinált nekem. Akkor mit jártam, amíg visszakerült nekem a nevemre. Elmentem Erdőszentgyörgyre, kivettem azt a hivatalos telekkönyvből, hogy az enyém volt. Így aztán kaptam meg.

Aztán [Bözöd]Újfaluban a házat eladtuk tizenegyezer lejért, és annyival vettük meg itt, ahol most lakunk. 1959-ben ez régi ház volt, lebontásra volt előirányozva, nem lakott senki benne. Rossz kerítés, sem kút, semmi. Valaki szerezte meg, ezzel foglalkozott, tudta, hol van üres lakás. Két öregasszony lakott benne, de nem ők voltak a tulajdonosok. És a két öregasszony kiment [elmentek], és maradt a lakás üresen. És akkor ezt, amikor megvettem, a tulajdonos Kolozsvárt lakott, magyar ember volt. Megvettem, de nem akarták kiutalni, hogy demolálva lesz [le lesz bontva]. Akkor elmentem, nekifogtam aláfalazni. Mikor annyira kifalaztuk apósommal, akkor kijöttek, valaki feljelentett a néptanácsnak, hogy én megvettem ezt a házat, és aláfalaztam. Az illető mikor kijött a néptanácstól, azt mondja: „Mondja el, hogy és mint vette.” Aztán akkor falaztuk, még a gerenda aljáig volt egy fél méter. Az illetőt leültettük idebe’, adtunk neki pálinkát, és megrészegedett, és akkor elmondta, hogy ki jelentett fel a szomszédból, két szomszéd.

Egyszer jött ez az Efraim látogatni, már apám vissza volt jőve Izraelből, és apámmal nagyban voltak, és azt mondta [nekem]: „Hallgass ide, add be a papírt… Felteszlek a repülőre, egyenesen Svájcba, nem kerülnél Izraelbe.” Én megcsináltam, a család nem tudta. Aztán annulálták [érvénytelenítették] a papíromat, ez a mocsok [az egyik szomszéd], mert akkorjában jártak véleményt kérni a szomszédoktól, én pedig nem vétettem semmit, mégis… Valamit mondott, hogy na, ez az ember nem fog visszajönni, és ez elég volt. Úgy kértem, hogy megyek látogatóba, mert a bátyám ott volt. Ez 1965-ben volt, rá egy évre, hogy a bátyám elment, gondoltam, hogy elmegyek látogatóba, és ott maradok, aztán majd jönne a család is.

1975-ben kezdtem építeni. Mikor kellett vakoljunk, a varrógépet el kellett adjam, egy nagyon jó Singer, az apámé volt, nem volt pénzem. Dicső[szentmárton]ba vitték el a gépet, háromezer lejért. 1976-ban megbüntettek ötszáz lejjel, hogy miért vakoltam le ezt a lakást [Ez a ház az 1970-es években Ceauşescu kezdeményezésére beindított város- és falurendezési program idején lebontandó háznak számított, ezért nem volt szabad felújítani. Lásd: szisztematizálás Romániában. – A szerk.]. És akkor elmentem az igazgatóhoz, hogy „Uram, törölje el, mert – mondom – hát, ha maga olyanban lakna, mint én, akkor biztos, hogy nem így beszélne”. Hát azt mondta, hogy nem kértük, hogy építsen. Aztán az ötszáz lejt a malomban lehúzták [levonták]. A fizetésem akkor kétszázhetven lej volt.

Apám spekulált, mindegyre fehérnépezett, hozta ide a fehérnépeket. Idehozott Aradról egy hetven évest, arra emlékszem, egy fehér hajú nagysága volt, és mind írta a levelet, hogy jöjjön ide. Zsidó volt, együtt voltak Izraelben, ott ismerte meg. Az asszonynak Aradon volt lakása, ő is visszajött. És akkor apám írta, hogy jöjjön ide, mert van két szoba, konyha. Mikor a néni idejött két bőrönddel, megáll az ajtóban: „Hát hol van a két nagy szoba?” Hallgatott az öreg. És azt mondta: „Te ilyen hantás vagy, elcsaltál ide…” – aztán kipakolt mindent, azon éjjel már az öregasszony nem aludt apámmal. Volt az öregnek szabóasztala, ilyen hosszú szabóasztal, és akkor apám kellett aludjék azon az asztalon. Ez úgy 1967-ben volt. Nem tudom a nevét, nem is érdekelt egyáltalán. Mondom a feleségemnek, ez is egy nagy dillós [nem normális] fehérnép. Aztán azt mondta apám [az asszonynak], na kötök a lábadra útilapit, és azzal visszamész. Kérte: „Fiam, kísérd el Kocsárdig az öregasszonyt.” Visszapakolta a két bőröndöt, és szépen elment.

Apámmal a feleségem nem egyeztek. Apám megütötte egy fakanállal. Aztán volt egy sárga nyelű bicskája, és felemelte, hogy szúrjon meg apám, és én kicsavartam a kezéből, kiesett, és akkor kiáltotta a feleségem, hogy „Segítség, segítség!”. A szomszédasszony beszaladt. Vagy három-négy napig nem beszéltünk, és feljelentett az öreg. Behívott a békéltető bizottság. Aztán nem mentünk be, hanem megszólítottam, és megittunk két deci pálinkát, aztán elmentünk a bulevárdra, és megettünk egy kiló citromot, azután egy dinnyét, azzal hazajöttünk, kibékültünk. Olyan szigorú volt apám, hogy borzasztó.

Minden héten mentem a bátyámhoz. Ahányszor hazajöttem, mindig össze volt veszve a feleségemmel [az apjáról beszél], én mindig békítettem ki, nem akartam, hogy harag legyen. A konyhában lakott, szabósággal foglalkozott utolsó percig. Női ruhát varrt, azt szerette, jó szabó volt. Nem kellett fizessen adót, mert hetvenen felül volt már. Nem volt nyugdíja, de dolgozott, és kapott pénzt, nálam kosztozott. Azt hiszem, 1967-ben jelentkezett be csak a hitközséghez, addig mind járt a szombatosokhoz. Aztán odament egy szombatos asszonyhoz, és megesküdtek, a Csíki utcában laktak, nem messze innen. A szombatosok temploma itt van mindjárt a mi utcánk végében. És akkor apám mind jött ide, és panaszolta, hogy hát mind’ fokhagymalevest főz a vénasszony. Nem tudom pontosan, úgy egy évet lakott ott, és akkor elment, beadta a válást, ezer lejébe került. Elválasztották egy-kettőre. Nyolcvanegy éves volt apám, mikor agyvérzést kapott, azután két hétre rá meghalt. Nem a zsidó temetőbe van eltemetve, hanem Remeteszegen. Én úgy akartam, hogy oda temessük [a zsidó temetőbe], csak a petrozsényi bátyám nem akarta, az unitárius pap temette el.

Úgy 1955-ben mentem a reformátusokhoz. Mondom a református papnak, Juhásznak hívták: „Tiszteletes úr, né, át akarok állni unitáriusból a reformátusba, mert a feleségem református, tessék megnézni a doszárt [dossziét], hogy be van írva.” Hát azt mondja: „Öt hónapig járjon a templomba, meglássuk, milyen templomba járó lesz.” Na jó, nem mentem többet oda, hanem karácsony előtt egy héttel elmentem a paphoz, és ezer lejt vittem. „Na, tiszteletes úr, írja át.” És mikor látta az ezer lejt, mindjárt vette a papírt, megírta, és át van véve, református, elvette az ezer lejt, de bont [számlát] nem adott. Akkor hazajöttem, és mondtam a feleségemnek, hogy elvette [a pénzt], és bont nem adott. Nem baj, de higgye el, nekem sem esett jól, miért nem adott bont. Hát legyen boldog. Mi jött, mi nem, az isten elvitte, meghalt, mert még valakinek kellett volna prédikáljon, az is megátkozta. Én csak annyit csináltam, hogy felnéztem [az égre].

Aztán apám ismerte ezeket a [zsidó] hitközségből, és felvette velük a kapcsolatot. Én is akartam menni, de azt mondták, hogy hát ha bevesszük magát, nehogy két-három hónap múlva siránkozzon, hogy adjunk valamit. És akkor nem mentem többet. Aztán vitt mindig, volt egy asszony, aki főzött csólentet pénzért az apámnak. Minden szombaton mentem apámmal „Na, gyere, fiam, én fizetem!”, a Knöpfler Vilmos utcai templommal szemben lakott a nő, aki a csólentet csinálta [1927-ben épült az ezer embert befogadó ortodox zsinagóga a mai Brăilei utcában. A második világháború után hívek nélkül maradt az épület. – A szerk.]. Körülbelül olyan 1976-77-ben be akartam állni [a hitközséghez]. Nekem azt mondták a templomban [a hitközség irodájában], három nő volt ott, mondom, állok ide be, [Bözöd]Újfaluból vagyok, akkor a nők kérdezték: „Hát maga zsidó?”, kérdi az egyik. „Meg van metélve?” Mondom: „Itt van, né… Mutatom…” „Jaj ne, ne tessék…” Akkor nem vettek be tagnak. 1997-től lettem hivatalosan tagja.

Párttag nem voltam, de élmunkás, az voltam. Ki voltam téve a főtérre az élmunkások táblájára… Kaptam három-négy csillagot [kitüntetést], jól dolgoztam. A főnök azt mondta: „Nézzétek meg, ez valami zsidó kell legyen.” Mert az én váltásomban ügyeltem, jelentettem, hogy a liszt nem jó. Már jelentettem a főmolnárnak vagy a mesternek, akkor ezek [akik meghallották a jelentést] besúgták az igazgatónak. Kellett ügyelni, hogy a csoport jó minőséget csináljon és többet, mert a szerint volt a prémium. Hatan-heten voltunk egy csoportban, én csak munkás voltam. A molnár elég okos volt, azt kérdezte tőlem – s a hátam mögött állt egy pasas, nem tudom, miért: „Miért olyan gyenge a liszt?” Mondom: „Főmolnár úr, hallgasson ide, én mondjam meg?” „Mondja meg bátran.” „Miután lett a kombájn után, kévébe kötötték, a búza nincs kiszáradva, és viszik be a silóba [= gabonasilóba], és olyan hamar átmelegszik, ideje nincs, hogy kiszárítsák. A burján [a gaz] nem megy ki, idegen anyagot átvesz a búza, és ezért gyenge a liszt.” Azt mondta az a hátam mögött – megfogta a galléromat –, azt mondja: „Ha nem maga volna, akkor eddig maga már el lenne vive, a szekuritáté elvitte volna.” Detektív volt. Mutatta: „Hallgasson.” Azóta úgy betettem magamba, sehol nem mondok semmit. Ha ez nem ismer, akkor szépen ülhettem volna, vagy kivégeztek volna. Én is hallottam, hogy elkaptak valakit, de az soha a büdös életben vissza nem jött. Nem ismertem, de az igaz volt, hogy gyűlés volt egy faluban, nem messze innen, és a gyűlésben a párttagok kint voltak [részt vettek a gyűlésen]. Kérdezték, ki akar hozzászólni. Felállt Jóska bácsi: „Annyit akarok mondani, hogy nincs olaj, nincs cukor, nincs ilyen, nincs olyan, és nekünk miért nem adnak?” Jól van, Jóska bácsi, jól van, leülhet. Tíz perc szünet volt. Mikor a szünet lejárt, mikor bementek a népek, akkor azt mondták: „Jóska bácsi nem volt” – az azt jelenti, hogy elvitték. Ezt beszélte el valaki nálunk a malomban, onnan volt a faluból, elmesélte, hogy hogy történt, hogy nem jött vissza az ember soha.

Akkor is úgy volt, hogy élelmet, tyúkot vagy tojást kellett adni, csúsztató ajándéknak, hogy [az embert] felvegyék dolgozni. Mikor a fiát be kell valahova rakni, adni kellett valamit.

Volt egy kollégám, az ajtónak a lyukán kinéztem, és láttam, hogy aki átveszi a zsákot, a zsebébe tette a pénzt, és átvette a rossz minőségű búzát. Ketten válogattuk a zsákot, elvette a rossz anyagot és a pénzt is. Ó, mondom, „Bácsi, nekem is kell”. „Idefigyeljen, ne szökdössön!” [= ne ugráljon]. S akkor hát – látja, Isten van az égben –, mi van az, hogy igazságtalan, megdöglött. Mert fertőtlenítettek a malomban, de azért ő bement, és jól lakott azzal a méreggel, és hat napra megmurált.

Az illető, aki engem elárult, az marosszentgyörgyi volt, falubeli a portásnak. Mikor elárultak, akkor az volt a baj, hogy nem volt ott az igazgató, nem tudott beleszólni, mert az őrmester ott volt a kapus szobában. Másfél kiló liszt volt nálam [amivel ki akart menni Kovács Pál Sámuel a malomból – A szerk.], de mindenki ezt csinálta. Mikor letárgyalták a törvényszéken, ez egy olyan zárt tárgyalás volt, csak én voltam, a két ügyvéd [helyesebben: Kovács Sámuel ügyvédje és az ügyész], a bíró és a mester. Azt kérdezte a bíró az ügyvédtől: „Van valami mondanivaló?” „Nincs.” A másiktól. „Nincs.” Mégis kiküldtek két hónapra, hatvan napot töltöttem a [maros]vásárhelyi börtönben. Aztán visszavettek rendesen dolgozni. Ha olyan lettem volna, nem vettek volna vissza. De jól dolgoztam, élmunkás voltam.

Sándor fiam Remeteszegen [Remetea, Marosvásárhelytől 6 km-re fekvő település] járt iskolába, nyolc osztályt. Aztán odaadtam asztalosinasnak, de nem maradt ott. Akkor elvittem magammal, a Kábelgyárnak a káderesét [lásd: személyzetis] ismertem, s azt mondtam neki, hogy legyen szíves, vegye fel a fiamat, mert nem akarom, hogy tekergő legyen. Két nap múlva fel is vette. Aztán a forradalomkor [1989-ben] otthagyta a kábelgyárat, mert sokan kimentek onnan [külföldre, vagy elmentek a vállalattól]. Aztán megcsinálta a sofőrséget. Megnősült. A felesége Adorjáni Jutka, és lett neki három gyereke, két leány és egy fiú. Kovács Ildikó 1981-ben született, azután Tündi, ő körülbelül 1985-ben született, a fiú, Róbert Sándor farkasszájjal született 1988-ban. Megoperáltak háromszor. Ildikó és Tündike kint van Magyarországon, ott dolgoznak. A lányom Moldován Ibolya a férje után. Neki két gyermeke van, Mihály 1976-ban és Gyöngyi 1978-ban születtek.

Én elmondtam a gyermekeknek mindent, kijelentettem a leányomnak és a fiamnak is, hogy az Isten megver titeket, hogyha nem a zsidó temetőbe temettek el. Ők konfirmáltak a református templomban, és engemet is akartak, hogy konfirmáljak már vénségemre. Mondtam, hagyjatok békét nekem, aztán a gyermekek ott konfirmáltak, az unokák is.

Irénke, a feleségem 2002-ben halt meg, hat hétig volt a kórházban. Hat hónapig kellett a szájába adjunk ételt. Én főztem s még a leányom is. Nem volt rossz asszony, a szomszédok hoztak levest, mártást puliszkával, mert nagy puliszkás volt.

1976-ban volt az első szívinfarktusom, aztán egy-két évenként. Mikor a Lenin utcában a mentő vitt be [a kórházba], „Né, Kovács bácsit megint hozzák”. 1992-ben tették be ezt a műszert [a szívritmusszabályzót]. Betegnyugdíjban voltam [azaz leszázalékolt, rokkantsági nyugdíjas], és akkoriban a lent vetették be ideki’, a kollektív mellé, itt a hegy alatt, a temető alatt. Négyen raktuk a lent és őriztük. A makfalvi lengyáré [Ma az Inmur cég tulajdona a lengyár. – A szerk.] volt, Makfalvára vitték, oda szállították, itt gyűjtötték össze. Akkor abból [a pénzből] tudtam csinálni a kerítést, abból vettem szőlőprést, abból vettem szőlődarálót. Nem hagytam magam, mentem, akkor jól bírtam. A kollektívnek volt krumpli vetve. Elmentem, segítettem, mint ide a túlsó kapu, annyira volt, kaptam egy-egy jó veder krumplit, hogy besegítettem, jó nagyokat, volt vagy két-három véka. A szakaszban, ami egy nagy kazal volt, ahova a lent tették száradni, csináltunk egy bunkert, ahová betettük a fákat, oda betettem a krumplit, és másnap éjjel az egyik pasas elvitte. És a másik is hozzányúlt. Ez abban az időben volt pont, mikor kijöttem a klinikáról, és betették a gépet [a szívritmusszabályzót]. Addig a feleségem járt ki helyettem őrnek. Akkor kimentem reggel, mikor ők váltották egymást. „Na, ha a pityókámat elvittétek – azt mondtam –, a fennvaló Jóisten ami a legdrágább, azt vegye el.” El is vette, mind a kettőt. Meghaltak.

Úgy hat-hét évvel ezelőtt körülbelül [1997-98 körül] bementem [a hitközséghez], B. K. felvilágosított, hitközségi tag. Ő tudta, hogy zsidó vagyok, mert elmondtam, mikor a csomagját vittem a piacról. Ott ismerkedtünk meg. Ő mondta, hogy Magyarországról adnak pénzt [kárpótlást], akiknek Auschwitzban meghaltak a rokonai. És akkor megcsinálta nekem ezt a papírt, és [Bözöd]Újfaluból hívtam tanúnak kettőt, mind a kettő keresztény, de hát ismertek jól, elmondták, hogy tudják, hogy elvitték [az édesanyámat és Esztert], de vissza nem jöttek. Elmentem [Bözöd]Újfaluba, és a leánytestvéremnek és az apámnak a keresztlevelét [Nyilvánvalóan a születési anyakönyvi bizonyítványra gondol. – A szerk.] kivettem, és az anyámét nem kaptam, mert nem volt meg. Elmentem Grünhöz [Grün László, a hitközség pénzügyi titkára, a Centropa vele is készített interjút. – A szerk.], mondom, B.-né küldött, ő mondta, hogy a magyaroknak [a magyar államnak] kell csinálni papírt, hogy kapjak anyám után [kárpótlást]. Akkor örvendtek is, mert nőtt a létszám. Aztán kezdtem menni oda, kaptam csomagot, ruhát. Vagy két éve kezdtem kapni gázpénzt. A magyaroktól kaptam [kárpótlást] 1997-ben, és most ígérik, hogy most egyszerre fogják adni, azt mondták, nem csipbe-csupba.

Nekem mindegy volt [a romániai 1989-es forradalom], de azért jobb lett volna, ha úgy maradt volna, mint Ceauşescu idejében. Én dolgoztam harminc évet, de semmi hiány nem volt. Most ha valaki bemegy a patronhoz, megfogja, kiteszi rögtön. [A lányát is kitették, régebben nem volt ennyi munkanélküli.]

Van egypár csirkém, egyéb gondomat levettem mindenről. Mikor apámat idehoztam, hoztuk a mentagyökeret, és termesztettük a mentát a kertben, eleinte aztán kivittem a piacra egy öllel, senki nem kérdezte, hogy miért vittem ki, nem vette senki. Most keresik, de nem adom el. A laskát én gyúrom, a reszeltet, tarhonyafélét is én csinálom. A búzáért én dolgoztam. A gazdáknak elmentem felhúzatni a búzát a padlásra, megforgattam. Kaptam három-négy vékát. Megőröltem, hogy ne bogarasodjon meg, mert lisztül jobban áll, többet áll. Ha elfogy, veszek mást.

A templomban szoktam imádkozni. Itthon is volt, hogy elővettem a könyvet [az imakönyvet], fele magyarul van írva, fele zsidóul, de mind zsidóul olvasok – magyarra fordított imakönyv izraéliták számára, édesapám hozta Pestről, mert volt ott család, akivel jól volt, kapott két könyvet, és ezzel járt a templomba.

Volt és van eszemben, hogy megyek Izraelbe, de hiába megyek oda, mert lehet, hogy a két leányka [Béla gyermekei] fogadna, mert nem hiszem, hogy olyan vallásosak lennének, de a fia, az olyan vallásos, az már be se engedne jóformán. Olyan vallásos, akárhová mennek, senkitől el nem fogadnak még vizet sem. Mesélte a falumbeli nő, mert minden évben járnak ide nyaralni.
 

Klára Kováčová-Kohnová

Életrajz

Az interjú kellemes környezetben, egy szépen ápolt, gondozott érsekújvári panellakásban készült. A néni egyszerű, dolgos hétköznapjaira és gyerekkorára nem minden nosztalgia nélkül emlékezett. Élénken felidézte a szülői házban együtt töltött ünnepeket, a közös vacsorákat. Éles vonalat húzott a háborús élmények és a gyerekkori évek között, ez az ellentét a háború utáni korszakban már nem annyira szembeötlő. A koncentrációs tábor maradandó nyomot hagyott egészségén, aránylag fiatalon, negyvenkét éves korában leszázalékolták. A néni jelenleg a lányával él közös háztartásban, megértésben.

A dédszüleimre nem tudok visszaemlékezni, sőt a nagyszüleimre se, mert mikor én megszülettem, már csak egy nagymamám élt. Otthon haltak meg. Az egyetlen, akit ismertem, az anyai nagymama volt. 1926-ban születtem, ekkor már csak ő élt.

Az anyai nagymama, Laufer Mina, született Smatana Mina nagytapolcsányi származású volt [Nagytapolcsány – nagyközség volt Nyitra vm.-ben, 1891-ben 4200 szlovák, német és magyar, 1910-ben 6400 szlovák, magyar és német lakossal (járási szolgabírói hivatal, járásbíróság, királyi közjegyzőség, adóhivatal). A Nyitra-völgy kereskedelmének és iparának gócpontja volt, élénk vásárokkal; a 20. század elején cukorgyár (720 munkás), szeszfinomító, tápzsírgyár, likőr- és seprőgyár, téglagyárak és parkettgyár volt a településen, valamint polgári fiú- és leányiskola. Trianon után Csehszlovákiához került, lakóinak száma 1919-ben 7000 fő volt. – A szerk.]. Nem tudott magyarul, de németül és szlovákul folyékonyan beszélt. Azért megtanult magyarul is, olyan helyesen beszélt. Nem mi tanultunk meg tőle szlovákul, hanem ő tanult meg tőlünk magyarul. Nagyon szeretett bennünket. Aranyos egy ember volt. Sok problémával küszködött az életben, fiatalon ment férjhez. Azt hiszem, tizenhat éves lehetett. Az édesanyám szokta mesélni, hogy nagyon sokáig nem volt család, aztán egyszer csak egymás után jöttek a gyerekek, talán tíz év házasság után. Ernő, Simi, Margit, Bella és Irma, az édesanyám. Öt gyermeke volt, és a nagypapám, Laufer Mór, szegény, korán meghalt. Laufer Mór pék volt. A kemencénél dolgozott, lement a pincébe szódáért, és megfázott. Hirtelen tüdőgyulladást kapott, és ebben, szegény, elment.

Nagymama öregkorában az egyik lányával és annak családjával élt egy kis házban, két szoba és konyhában. Bent volt a kemence. Rendes pékség volt. Nem volt az akkor nagyon jó mód. Küzdöttek az emberek azért, hogy éljenek. Éjjel dolgoztak, és reggel már a háti kosarakban, krosláknak hívták, vitték a kis süteményeket az üzletekbe vagy a házhoz. Lehet, hogy volt ott valami inas is. A nagypapa halála után a nénim vezette a pékséget.

Gyakran szoktunk eljárni a nagymamához, hiszen közel laktunk egymáshoz. Nagyon szeretett, engem úgy hívott, hogy Klaričko. Klári vagyok, és ő elnevezett Klaričkónak. Nagyon szeretett. Én voltam a legfiatalabb az unokák között. Boldog volt, mikor ott voltunk. Fájtak már a lábai, és szomorú is volt, mert aránylag fiatalon elvesztette a férjét.

Nagymama rendesen öltözött, akár az akkori asszonyok. Parókát nem hordott, de állandóan födött fővel járt. Egy aranyos, szolid asszony volt. A flancot és a divatot nem ismerték annyira. Lehet, hogy akadtak egyesek, például a földbirtokosok, akik másképp öltözködtek, de mi nem. A háztartása kóser volt.

Az apai nagyszülők a Weiszék voltak, Weisz Mihály és Hopper Cecília. Nagymama Galántáról származik. Ő szlovák volt, nem tudott magyarul. Nagyapa kétszer nősült, mert az első felesége meghalt. Én ezeket, szegényeket, már nem ismertem, így nem tudok róluk semmi közelebbit mondani.

Apukámat Weisz Józsefnek hívták. 1893. december hatodikán született, Mikulás napján. A faluban, Csúzon üzlete volt. A mamuska is segített neki, mert kettőnek is kellett ott dolgozni. Szombaton az üzletet csukva tartottuk [lásd: szombati munkavégzés tilalma], sőt nekünk volt egy néni, aki a tüzet rakta szombaton és ünnepnapokon [Lásd: sábesz gój]. Pénteken, amikor jött a szombat [A zsidó szombat péntek este, az első csillag feljövetelével kezdődik, és szombat estig, az első csillag feljöveteléig tart. – A szerk.], becsuktunk. A téli időben korábban, nyáron pedig később.

Apuka egy komoly, olvasott ember volt. Nagyon igazságos, jó, de egyúttal szigorú is. Valakinek kellett annak is lennie, mert a mamuska inkább mindent megengedett. Mikor vittem a csokit az üzletből, csak kiabáltam: „Mamuska, vittem egyet!” „No megállj, megmondlak az apádnak!” Dehogy mondott meg. Szigorúnak is kellett lennie. Soha meg nem ütött bennünket [apuka]. Elég volt, ha nézett, mert tekintete, az volt.

Az egész életében és viselkedésében igazságos volt. Nagyon-nagyon szeretett adni. Nagyon sokat. Szeretett segíteni a testvérein, akiknek még annyijuk sem volt, de még az idegeken is. C’doke geber [jiddis: ’jótékony, adakozó’ ember’] volt. Úgy mondják azt. Rendes, nagyon rendes ember volt. Szeretett olvasni, de annak ellenére nem volt otthon sok könyvünk. Inkább kölcsön szoktuk venni. Sok mindent olvasott, de a pár komoly regény között biztos akadt egy-két ponyvaregény is. Szerette a Jókai Mórt. Mi, gyerekek nem szerettünk annyira olvasni. Nem is volt bennünk az a vonzalom a könyvekhez. Annyira nem. Most, hogy idősebb vagyok, akkor már inkább olvasok.

Anyukám, Laufer Irma 1896. december tizenharmadikán született. Anyukám csendes, finom, nagyon jó lelkű ember volt. Csak nyolc elemit végzett [Bizonyára elemi iskolát (népiskolát) végzett, vagyis hat osztályt. – A szerk.], abban az időben más nem is volt. Nem dolgozott, épp csak az apukám üzletében kisegített, és hát ott volt a háztartás és a három gyerek. Az első volt egy fiú, aki szegény elment, nem tudom, hány hónapos korában. Aztán volt a nővérem, Erzsi 1921-ben született. 1924-ben a Zsuzsi, és 1926-ban megszülettem én.

Szüleim a rokonokkal nagyon jó viszonyban voltak. Gyakran találkoztunk, pláne mi, gyerekek, mert a szülők jobban voltak elfoglalva. Pláne szombaton összejött a család. Minden évben eljöttek a pesti rokonok is. Előfordult, hogy mi is elutaztunk oda, de inkább ők jöttek. Mamuskának három lánytestvére és két fiútestvére volt. Édesanyám testvérei mind ottmaradtak, a gyermekeik közül is csak némelyik jött vissza.

Legidősebb volt Blum Gyuláné, született Laufer Bella. Csúzon laktak. Három családja született, két fiú és egy lány. A háromból egy él Izraelban, az Árpád. A lány már férjnél volt. Volt egy nyolc hónapos gyereke, úgyhogy egyenesen vitték őket a gázba. A két fiú visszajött, az egyik már meghalt, aránylag egész fiatalon. Nagyon hirtelen. Árpádnak hét gyermeke van, és nem tudom, hány unokája.

Margitnak Gürtler Jenő volt a férje, szintén Csúzon éltek. Volt egy fiuk, aki visszajött, de már sajnos az se él. Laufer Ernő és felesége, Ganz Jolán se jött vissza. Érsekújvárban éltek, pékségük volt. Csak az Ernő fia jött vissza, a lány sajnos a családjával együtt ottmaradt. Laufer Simi és a felesége, Etus se jött vissza. Egy lánya élte túl a háborút, most Angliában él.

Az apuka nagy családból származott, mert voltak ott édestestvérek is és mostohatestvérek is. Gondolom, hogy a legidősebb volt Schwarzstein Berta, született Weisz Berta. Budapesten éltek. A férje hitoktató volt, de az is, szegény, aránylag fiatalon meghalt, nem is ismertem őt. Három gyermeke született, Zoli, Imre és Rozália. Rózsival találkoztunk kétszer a lágerban. Berta néni túlélte háborút, nem deportálták. Aztán kimentek Izraelba, és ott meghalt. Utána volt a Weisz Helén, Weisz Róza. Az a három nő. Akkor jött a Weisz Móric és Weisz József. Az volt az édesapám. No és aztán az unokatestvérek jó néhányan. Pesten is voltak sokan.

Weisz Helén férjhez ment Patak Gyulához, Budapesten. Ő már Pataknak született, a szülei magyarosították a nevüket. Négy gyermekük született, Gizus, Árpád, Vilma és Teréz. A három leány túlélte, őket nem deportálták, bujkáltak Pesten. Árpád már akkor nem élt, mert az történt, hogy síelni ment, eltörött a síléc és a lába is. Meg kellett drótozni, szegény, vérmérgezést kapott, és belehalt. Patak Gyula házmester volt. Helén és a férje túlélte a háborút.

Weisz Rózát nem nagyon ismertem, mert ő már egy idős lány volt. Nem is volt férjnél.

Weisz Móric bácsi Kéménden lakott, lovakkal kereskedett [Kéménd – nagyközség volt Esztergom vm.-ben, 1891-ben 1700, 1910-ben 1800 lakossal. Trianon után Csehszlovákiához került. – A szerk.]. Elvett egy kéméndi Neuhaz lányt, Helén volt az is. Neuhaz Helén volt a felesége. Hat gyermekük volt. Lacika, de az nem volt kint sehol, mert beteg volt, és bekerült egy intézetbe. Akkor volt még Weisz Irén, Weisz Pali, Weisz Tibor, Weisz Nándor és Weisz Manci. Csak két fiú jött vissza. Weisz Pali, ő Léván élt, és Weisz Tibor, ő kint él Izraelban a családjával. Többi senki, a szülők se.

Dubníkon, Csúzon éltünk [Csúz – nagyközség volt Komárom vm.-ben, 1891-ben 2000 magyar, 1910-ben 1900 magyar és szlovák lakossal. Trianon után Csehszlovákiához került.– A szerk.]. Nagyon szép hitközség volt ott, több mint száz zsidóval. Ortodox jellegű volt, csak egy család nem volt kóser, az állatorvosék, Neumannék. Ők már akkor is megették a sertést. Nagy hitközség volt, úgyhogy volt ott rabbi, sakter, kántor, elnök és a sámesz, a templomgondnok. Szép zsinagógánk volt, csak sajnos tönkretették a háború alatt. A háború után is, mert a házba, ahol rabbi lakott, beköltözött egy férfi, aki a zsinagógát arra használta, hogy ott libát tömött, és ilyesmit csinált. Hát ez nagyon csúnya dolog.

Nagyon szép és összetartó hitközség volt. Például Purimkor olyan volt ott a szokás, hogy színdarabot [Purimspiel] játszottunk. A gazdálkodók részére volt egy dohányszárító, de Purim idején már nem volt ott dohány. Ott gyorsan színpadot emeltek, összeverték deszkákból, és azon szerepeltük. Boldogok voltunk, de a szülők is, hogy mit tudnak ezek a gyerekek. Ez volt egy ilyen örömünnep, a Purim.

A Hanuka szintén egy örömünnep volt. Akkor esténként ellátogattunk egymáshoz, és voltak ilyen játékok, mint az „Ember, ne mérgelődj” és a trenderli, ez a pörgettyű. Olyan hangulatos és jó volt. Cukorka, mogyoró vagy dió volt a tét.

Szükesz ünnepkor sátort építettünk az udvaron ilyen ponyvaféléből. A sátrat kidíszítettük lampionokkal, színes papírba becsomagolt dióval. Nagyon kedélyes és szép ünnep volt. Akinek nyitott verandája volt, mint például a rabbiházban, azt felnyitották, és ott tartották. Akadtak nagyon vallásos emberek is, még vallásosabbak voltak, mint én, azok minden ételt a sátorban fogyasztottak. Én is vallásos voltam, de nem fogyasztottam ott az ételt. Azok nyolc napig csak a sátorban étkeztek, a reggelit, az ebédet és a vacsorát is ott fogyasztották. Az édesapám is csak a sátorban evett, de én nem, csak egyszer-kétszer. Szükeszkor van ez a lülav és etrog, amivel imádkoznak. Evvel szoktunk mindennap imádkozni reggel. Olyan, mint a citrom. Egyszer az egyik felével kell, utána megfordítani, és avval. Van hozzá egy olyan kis rövid ima. Ez volt a sátoros ünnep.

Az újév [Ros Hásáná] az egy tradíció volt. Az ünnepi asztalon húsleves volt és becsinált hús. Nagyon szép volt minden. Az asztalról nem hiányozhatott a méz, hogy édes legyen az élet. De a mézet nem kanalakkal, hanem úgy kellett tenni, mint amikor pénteken este és az ünnepekkor áldást mondanak a kenyérre vagy a bárheszra. Az le van takarva [A bárheszt rituális okokból fedték be az ún. kenyértakaróval – lásd: kettős kenyér. – A szerk.], és elmondják az áldást. Így van megkezdve a vacsora. Mindenki kapott egy darabot, és azt belemártottuk a mézbe újévkor.

Jom Kipur is nagyon szép és hangulatos volt, de koplalni kellett. Mi, gyerekek jól éreztük magunkat a templomudvarban. Kimentünk, játszottunk, aztán felmentünk a szülőkhöz megkérdezni, hogy hogyan böjtölnek. A férfiak lent voltak, a nők pedig fönt [Az ortodox zsinagógában a nők nem vegyülhetnek a férfiak közé, különválasztott hely (sokszor ráccsal vagy függönnyel is ellátott karzat) van számukra fenntartva. – A szerk.]. Megkérdeztük, hogyan telik a böjt, hogyan érzik magukat. Szép gyerekkor volt ez. Akkor nagy tiszteletet élveztek a szülők a gyerekektől. Egybe tartott a hitközség, szorosan. Jóformán egy ember volt mindenki.

Pészah idején a nagytakarítás rendesen folyt. Mindent ki kellett tisztítani. A lisztet, kenyérmorzsát utolsó nap előtt összeszedni, és egy fakanálra rákötni [Lásd: homecolás; hagyományosan egy fakanálra kell felsöpörni a hamecet, majd a fakanalat és a morzsákat együtt bekötni egy rongydarabba. – A szerk.]. Söprű is volt hozzá, hogy mindent kisöpörjön az ember. A sakter fia járt házról házra, és ezt összeszedte. Ami az üzletben volt, arra kötöttünk egy szerződést [lásd: szerződés a hamec eladásáról], hogy átadom XY-nak ennyi és ennyi időre ezeket a dolgokat. Aláírtuk, és mikor elmúlt az ünnep, akkor visszaadta.

Ha tiszta volt a fal, akkor Pészahkor nem szoktunk festeni, de akik nagyon vallásosak voltak, azok még a zsákokat is kimosták. Az edényeket is kicseréltük. A pészahi edény lekerült a padlásról, és a hétköznapi ment a helyére. Amikor elmúlt az ünnep, visszahoztuk. Szédereste anyuka finom gombócos levest főzött. Általában akkor több krumplit és húst fogyasztottunk. Volt, mikor tarhonyát ettünk, mert azt maceszlisztből is lehetett csinálni. Persze nagy változatosság nem lehetett, mert akkor bizonyos dolgokat nem lehetett használni. Minden nagyon finom volt. Mi, gyerekek másnap megkérdeztük egymástól, hogy hány gombócot ettél meg. Persze az egyik túl akart tenni a másikon. Olyat is mondtak, ami lehetetlen volt. A szédereste gyönyörű volt. Az asztalra szédertál került a reszelt tormával, almával és dióval. Persze, egy darabka sült hús se hiányozhatott a főtt tojással. A leves előtt mindenki kapott egy tojást, amire a rituális szerint sós vizet kellett önteni. Akkor általában így volt a családoknál. Mindenki saját maga ülte otthon a szédert. Csak most van úgy, hogy például Pozsonyban közöset csinálnak. Azt csak most, a háború után vezették be, mert kevesen vannak az emberek.

A szombat bejövetele előtt elvittük a baromfit a sakterhoz. Az szépen levágta, és szárazon meg kellett tisztítani. Nem volt szabad leforrázni. Addig nem kaphatott forró vizet, míg nem volt kikóserolva. A baromfi megtisztítása után jött a fölbontása. Utána vízbe kellett áztatni egy órára, hogy a vér kifollyon, mert a zsidóknak vért enni nem szabad. Az áztatás után a húst egy deszkára tették [A deszkának ferdén kellett állnia, elősegítendő a vér kifolyását a húsból. – A szerk.], amit direkt arra használtak, és besózták a húst. Mikor ez megvolt, le köllött háromszor öblíteni [De az öblítés előtt legkevesebb egy órán át kellett a húst besózva tartani. – A szerk.]. Akkor volt rendben, kóser. A kacsa máját, először rá kellett tenni a parázsra [Miként a nem friss, három napnál korábbi vágásból származó húst is. – A szerk.], és utána lehetett csak megsütni. Például ha liba és kacsa volt vágva, mert abból gyűjtöttük az egy évre való zsírt, akkor azokat a mamuska szokta otthon megtömni. Kitömte őket otthon, úgyhogy az nem került annyiba. Nagyon ügyes keze volt, ügyesen megcsinálta. Elvitte, és levágatta. Mikor Érsekújvárban laktunk, ott élt egy sakter, aki nem ette meg a libát azért, mert ha tömték, azáltal kínozták [Vagyis a sakter komolyan fogta föl hivatását: neki ugyanis a rituális vágás – sehita – előírásszerű elvégzésekor mindent el kell kerülnie, ami a goromba bánásmódra utal, vagy ami az állatnak a legkisebb sérülést is okozza, az állatot nem szabad megsebesíteni, tilos kínozni. – A szerk.]. Ezért nem ette meg, de ez nem volt jellemző mindenkire. Nem egy bigott ortodox akadt Csúzon, aki megette.

Pénteken megdagasztottuk otthon a bárheszt, de péknél sütötték, a sóletot úgyszintén. A sóletot estefelé elvittük a pékhez. Berakta a kemencébe, és másnap, szombaton déltájt mentünk érte. Addig ott sült a kemencében. Csodálatos volt, mindig szombaton ebédre ettük. Főleg nyáron, mert szombaton nem szabadott az ételt melegíteni, és akkor az forró volt. Péntek este húsleves volt, becsinált hús és kalács [Bárhesz, ami nem édes tésztából, vagyis nem kalácstésztából készül. – A szerk.]. Az édesanyám elkészítette a gyertyákat, az asztalt. Az édesapám elment a templomba, akkor meggyújtottuk a gyertyát [lásd: gyertyagyújtás]. Amikor hazajött, akkor fogyasztottuk a vacsorát. Az apuka elmondta az áldást. Az én férjem is, szegény, mindig ő mondta. Most én csinálom, ahogy tudom. Nem úgy, mint ő, de iparkodom.

1926-ban születtem, Csúzon harmadik gyermeknek. Normálisan éltünk, mint az akkori családok. Nem voltunk földhözragadt szegények, mert a mindennapi, az megvolt. Szegény apám még abból is adott. Úgy mondhatom, hogy ha nem is lehetett annyira, még akkor is adott, a családja rovására is. Mégsem nélkülöztünk. Nem jártam óvodába, az anyuka vigyázott rám.

Hatéves koromban beléptem az iskolába. Míg nem jöttek be a magyarok 1938-ban [lásd: első bécsi döntés], addig zsidó iskola is volt Csúzon. Magyar volt a tanítási nyelv. A faluban volt még külön katolikus iskola és külön református iskola is. A református iskola egy idő után megszűnt, mert nem volt elég diák. Így likvidálták. A reformátusok fele a zsidó iskolába jött, a másik fele pedig a katolikus iskolába ment. 1938-ban bezárták a mi iskolánkat is, mert a tanító néni pozsonyi volt, már nem járhatott Csúzra. Csúz Magyarországhoz került, Pozsony pedig a Szlovák Államhoz [Csúz valóban 1938 novemberében került vissza átmenetileg Magyarországhoz, de az önálló Szlovák Államot, amelynek a fővárosa Pozsony lett, majd csak 1939 márciusában kiáltották ki. Lásd: Szlovákia (1939–1945); Cseh–Morva Protektorátus]. Akkor mi is átmentünk a katolikus iskolába. Tizenkét éves voltam akkor. Utána még két évet járhattam a katolikus iskolába.

A zsidó iskolában a tanító néni pozsonyi volt, de nagyon szépen beszélt magyarul, szlovákul és németül. Popper Bedřiškának hívták, de mindenki Fricinek szólította. Bábel Sándorhoz ment férjhez, aki mérnök volt. Pozsonyban élt. A tanító néni járt utána Pozsonyba. A tanító néninek volt egy szobája az iskola épületében. Azonkívül még ott lakott az iskola gondnoka is. Egy zsidó családnál kosztolt, biztos fizetett azért.

A zsidó iskolában csak egy osztály volt. Egy helyiségben voltak az elsősök az idősebbekkel. Végig ő vezette. Nem volt könnyű dolga. Nem tudom már sajnos megmondani, hányan voltunk egy osztályban. De ha úgy veszem, akkor csak a sakteréknál volt tíz gyerek, de abból már kettő vagy három nem járt iskolába. Mindenkivel külön kellett hogy foglalkozzon. Azután még volt nekünk külön héber tanítónk. Oda egyszer egy héten jártunk, hogy megtanuljuk az imát, az olvasást és a héber írást. Mikor az volt, akkor a délutáni imát el kellett mondani. A tanító szigorú volt. Az első tanító Donáth Salamon volt, a második pedig Lauer Lipót. A háború után találkoztam vele Budapesten. Ő is kivándorolt Izraelba, és mit ad az Isten? Az én férjem elment Izraelba. Hajóval ment, a nagybácsija küldte neki a jegyet. Volt ott egy barátunk, csúzi fiú, aki szintén már nincs az élők sorában, és az elvitte őt egy kibucba. Ez a Lauer Lipót ott dolgozott mint szakács. Megismerkedett a férjemmel, és mondta, hogy valamikor ő volt a Klárinak [azaz az interjúalanynak] a héber tanítója. Nagyon örült neki, de már meghalt, szegény. Lassan elkopunk már a régi ismerősök…

Két nővérem van. Az idősebbik, Erzsi 1921-ben született, Csúzon. Erzsi nagyon jó gyermek volt, szorgalmas. Szeretett varrni, ki is tanulta Érsekújvárban a varrást és Budapesten a szabást. A magyarok alatt ment férjhez, Gleizner Bélához. Kürtön laktak [Kürt – nagyközség volt Komárom vm.-ben, 1891-ben 2500, 1910-ben 2800 magyar lakossal. Trianon után Csehszlovákiához került (az első bécsi döntést követően átmenetileg ismét Magyarországhoz tartozott), ma Szlovákiában van. – A szerk.]. Mikor a férje munkaszolgálatos lett, volt neki szülése, de sajnos meghalt a gyereke, mert az egy vesegörcsös szülés volt. Vagy megmentik az anyát, vagy a gyereket. Amikor deportáltak bennünket, már nem volt családja. Meghalt a komáromi kórházban. A háború után visszament Kürtre, megörökölte a férje házát, mert senki a családból nem jött vissza. Amikor egy kicsit összeszedte magát, nyitott ott egy üzletet. Nem tudom, mennyi idő után férjhez ment Braunfeld Sándorhoz. Egy gyermeke született, Tibor. Mikor Érsekújvárban laktunk, mindig összecseréltek bennünket. Állítólag annyira hasonlítottunk egymásra. Ő a tejcsarnokban dolgozott, és mindig állítgattak az utcán, és érdeklődtek valami iránt. Mondom, én nem az vagyok, az a nővérem, aki ott van. Igen, mert ennyire hasonlítunk.

Zsuzsi, a másik nővérem 1924-ben született. Nagyon jó gyermek volt, talán ő volt hármunk közül a legjobb. Mikor az iskolába mentünk, mindig métáztunk. Én jártam korcsolyázni is. Összejöttünk mint gyermekek. Játszottunk, szórakoztunk egymással. Mindenkinek megvolt a saját korosztálya. A nővérem, Erzsi azt szokta mondogatni: „Kicsinyek, tessék félre menni tőlünk. Mi nagyok vagyunk, ti meg kicsinyek! Persze kíváncsiak vagytok, hogy mit beszélnek a nagyobb lányok!” Nagyon, nagyon szép gyermekkor volt, ha így most idézem. Hát igen, csak aztán jöttek a szomorú dolgok.

Mikor bejöttek a magyarok 1938-ban, akkor bizony már küzdeni kellett a megélhetésért, mert elvették az üzletet. 1938-tól 1944-ig valamiből élni is kellett, és ami áru volt vagy készlet, az már elkopott. Rá voltunk kényszerítve arra, hogy dolgozni járjunk, hogy meg tudjunk élni. Ki mit talált. Már csak hárman voltunk, mamuska a testvérem és én. A nővérem már Kürtön volt férjnél, apuka pedig beteg volt.

A falubeliek az ablakainkat betörték, akadtak ott is nyilasok. Betörték az ablakainkat, bizony. Nem csak nekünk, sokunknak. Ez már abban az időben történt, amikor bejöttek a magyarok, akkor már elkezdődött. 1938-tól az emberek mintha megfertőződtek volna. Addig is létezett antiszemitizmus, de nem mutatták olyan nyíltan. Akadtak azonban rendes emberek is köztük. Nagyon nagy segítség volt, amikor hazajöttünk, hogy az egyik szomszédnál aludhattunk. Nagyon rendes volt, és közben a bátyja volt a legnagyobb nyilas. Úgyhogy amikor vége lett a háborúnak, akkor ő elmenekült Magyarországra, és más néven élt ott. Talán tíz éve, hogy meghalt, akkor elhozták Csúzra eltemetni a felesége mellé. Megadta neki a rokonság a tiszteletet, de nagyon-nagyon rosszat csinált. Már úgy kiabálta a bácsimnak: „Gürtler, Gürtler, nemsokára jön a Hitler!” [Nagy]Surányban élt egy férfi, aki valamikor a nagynénémnél, Csúzon péksegéd volt [Nagysurány – nagyközség volt Nyitra vm.-ben, 1891-ben 4600, 1910-ben 5200 szlovák, magyar és német lakossal. (A községben nagy cukorgyár működött, a 20. század elején 1020 munkással.) A trianoni békeszerződéssel Csehszlovákiához került, lakosainak száma 1919-ben 7000 fő volt. (Az első bécsi döntést követően, 1938-tól Nagysurány átmenetileg ismét Magyarországhoz tartozott. Az 1941-es népszámlálás idején a lakosok 9%-a – 563 fő – volt zsidó.) Ma Szlovákiában van. – A szerk.]. Ott élt [Nagy]Surányban, és az adott kenyeret a családunknak. Azoknak is meg nekünk is. Nem nyíltan, mert hát neki is… egy ideig, mikor ott voltunk [a (nagy)surányi gettóban].

Csúzon a Gürtler nagynénim és a férje kivételezettek voltak, így hozzájuk vittük elrejteni a dolgainkat. Azt hittük, hogy őket végképp nem viszik el. Még a gettóba is eljött a néni utánunk fölpakolva. Hozott mindenféle dolgokat. Egyik nap aztán egy jó ismerősük megmondta nekik: „Gürtler úr, készüljenek fel, hogy magukat is el akarják vinni!” Ekkor önszántukból elmentek Pestre, és ott a nagybácsim szerzett nekik egy helyet, ahol bujkáltak. De most mi történt: szegények bujkáltak, de egy nyilas megismerte, és feljelentette őket. Elvitték őket is. Szegények, nem is jöttek vissza, ők, akik kivételezve voltak. Hát igen. Ottmaradt nekik is minden, meg a mi dolgaink is.

Mikor bejöttek a magyarok, bevezették a jegyrendszert [lásd: Jegyrendszer Magyarországon (1940–1951)], de azokból a jegyekből, amit a család kapott, abból nagyon nehezen tudtunk megélni, azért is kellett dolgoznunk. Egész fekete liszt volt. A selyem szitán akár fél napig is kellett szitálni, hogy egy kenyérre való legyen, ne legyen benne korpa. A Gürtler nagynénim, akik utólag mentek el, az valahogy hozzájutott a szacharinhoz is, abból adott nekünk is.

1944-ben elvitték az apukámat. Szombati nap volt. Már korán reggel kopogtak az ajtón. Szokatlan volt. Kinyitottuk az ajtót, és megjelenik egy „drága”, nem messze lakó ember, majdnem szomszéd. Jött a kakastollasokkal [vagyis  a csendőrökkel], megmutatni, hogy hol élnek zsidók. Nem emlékszem, hogy volt már akkor velük német, vagy csak a községházán… Szóval jöttek, és ő tolakodott előre, de a csendőrök hátra tolták. Elvitték az összes férfit, akit otthon találtak. Nem tudtunk semmit, csak azt, hogy menniük kellett. Szaladtam az orvoshoz, kértem egy igazolást, hogy milyen beteg az apám. Befizettem, amit kellett. Futottam a községháza udvarába, hogy ott átadom ezt a papírt a németeknek. Bementem, és ezek az emberek, a zsidó férfiak és a kommunisták fal felé álltak fordítva. Te jó Isten, mi van? Mi történt? Ezt nem volt szabad nekik! A szegény apám mondta, hogy a hangomat hallotta, mert aztán találkoztunk. Hallotta a hangomat, hogy ott vagyok, de nem fordulhatott meg. És én mondtam, hogy az édesapám beteg, hoztam orvosi igazolást, de semmi, semmi… Felrakták őket a teherautókra, a rabbitól kezdve mindenkit, aki éppen otthon volt, és elvitték. Sokáig nem is tudtunk róluk. Újból találkoztunk, mielőtt minket elvittek a gettóból, őket hozták oda. Alig lehetett a saktert és a rabbit megismerni a szakálluk nélkül… Lenyírták őket.

Apuka aránylag fiatalon agyvérzést kapott, de annyira felépült, hála az Istennek, hogy csak az maradt vissza neki, hogy kicsit biccentett a lábára. Szerencsére nem vette észre a Mengele, és átment a szelektáláson. Különben kegyetlenül nézték. Akinek pattanás vagy valami kiütés volt, az… Szörnyű dolgokat csináltak. De viszont elvitték őket Dachauba. Ott munkára jártak, ezt csak egy ismerős bácsi, aki vele volt, mesélte, hogy feltörte a cipő a lábát, és vérmérgezést kapott. Abba halt bele. Így mondta a bácsi, mert értesítést nem kaptunk.

Nemsokára, ahogy elvitték a férfiakat, minket is összeszedtek. Legelőször elvittek minket Csúzról szekereken Surányba, gettóba [A nagysurányi gettóról van szó, ahova az Érsekújvár és Tardoskedd környéki zsidókat költöztették. Június 5. után a gettót kiürítették, és bevagonírozásra Komáromba vitték át az embereket. – A szerk.]. [Nagy]Surányban voltunk, nem is tudom, hány hétig, talán hat hétig. Szóval mikor ott voltunk, akkor kicsit nagyobb volt a gettó, de aztán mindig szűkítették, többet és többet tettek egy szobába. A helyzet kezdett embertelenné válni már ott is. A mosakodás… Ilyen privát házakban voltunk elhelyezve. Kiürítettek egy bizonyos utcasort. Itt tudtuk meg, mi történt az apukával, mert őket is odahozták. Komáromban voltak, ahol elég rossz bánásmódban részesültek. Minket aztán két nap múlva vagy másnap bevagoníroztak, és vittek a komáromi monostori erődbe. Azt hiszem, onnan lőhettek ki, mert olyan ablakok voltak ott, amin másztunk be és ki. A földön körülbelül öt centi vastagon volt a por, és abban feküdtünk. Volt ott lepedőféleség, de kegyetlen volt. A Dunára jártunk ki mosakodni, vagy aki akart, fürödni. Persze csendőri kísérettel, kegyetlen volt, kegyetlen bánásmód volt…

Komáromban még főzhettünk is valamit. Akadt még egy kis liszt, olaj vagy zsír. Mamuska a lisztből bekevert egy tésztát, és megsütötte. Elnevezte monostori szeletnek. Nagyon finom volt az akkor, de lehet, hogy azóta se olyat nem ettem… Az jobb volt, mint a lángos, amit most eszek vagy egy szelet tortánál, mert már akkor nagyon éhesek voltunk.

Komáromból egyenesen Birkenauba vittek. Mikor kiszálltunk a vonatból, búcsúzkodni akartunk. Azt mondták, hogy majd másnap találkoztok. Nem volt rá idő. A szegény apámnak a kabátja véletlenül benn maradt a vonatban. Szegény jó anyám ment érte. Dehogy, majd mindent megkaptok. Más ruhákat kaptunk. Biztos azokból, amiket magunkról levetettünk, csak nem a sajátunkat. Akinek rövid kellett, az hosszút kapott, és fordítva. A Bella néni, aki a lányával és az unokájával ment, azt mondta, mert már szagokat éreztünk, és lángokat láttunk: „Atyaisten, hova hoztak minket! Innen nincs visszaút!” Hát igaza volt. Neki nem volt visszaút. Kevésnek volt visszaút. Nagyon kevésnek.

Egy nagy véletlen volt, hogy az anyukámat a Mengele nem küldte a gázba. Véletlen. Véletlen, mert ő már akkor negyvennyolc éves volt, és az már a németeknek sok volt. Kicsit már őszült, de hála az istennek, nem vette észre vagy… Ez egy véletlen volt, mert nagyon sok fiatalabbat is bevittek a gázba. Úgy volt a kezében a pálca – ide, oda. Utána meg kopasz volt, mert mindjárt, ahogy megérkeztünk, bementünk a fürdőbe, és minden szőrzetet levettek. Az édesanyám élt, a lágerból visszajött a három lánytestvér és ő. Elejétől a végéig a Jóistennek a jóvoltából együtt maradtunk, mindenhová együtt raktak minket, ugyanis több helyen is voltunk egy év leforgása alatt.

Először Birkenauba érkeztünk, utána onnan elvittek minket Krakkóba. Krakkó külvárosában egy kőbányában dolgoztunk [Minden bizonnyal a kraków-płaszówi koncentrációs tábor kőbányarészlegéről van szó. Lásd: Kraków-Płaszów. – A szerk.]. Krakkóban hatalmas nagy farkaskutyák és hatalmas katonanők vártak bennünket, jó hangos szóval. Kőbányákban dolgoztunk, nem lent, hanem a kitermelt köveket kellett hordani. Jó nehezek voltak. Mindig kiabálták: „Grosse Sterne nehmen, grosse Sterne nehmen…” [Nagy köveket vigyetek (német).] Szegény mama, az olyan rafinált volt, azt mondta: „Vigyetek egy kicsit és egy nagyot. Az úton a nagyot tegyétek le, és a kicsit vigyétek!” De hát nem mertük megtenni, mert nekik mindenhol volt szemük. A mamuska megcsinálta.

Egyik alkalommal köveket hordtunk, máskor pedig téglákat láncoltunk. Egyszer sorba állítottak bennünket. Fölvonult a legnagyobb német, a kommandoführer, vagy nem tudom, mi volt az. Ott az egyik villában lakott. Mindig fehér lovon járt, és ellenőrizte, hogy hogyan dolgozunk. Volt nekünk egy kápónk, az tudta már, hogy jön, és elkezdett szíjjal csapkodni, és kiabálta: „Los, Los! Arbeit!” Mikor odaért, akkor én is azok közé tartoztam, akik egy jó nagy pofont kaptak. Meg kellett neki mutatni, hogy milyen szigorú, és hogy hogyan bánik velünk. Az volt az atyaúristen, a fehérlovas. Úgy hívtuk, hogy fehérlovas. Az sorba pofozott. Megtörtént az is, hogy ráuszították egy nőre a kutyát. Kiharapta a mellét. Ez volt Krakkó. Ott nagyon kegyetlen dolgok történtek. Egy celappell [’zahlappell’, létszámellenőrzés] alkalmából… – azt mindig hajnalban tartották és számolták, hogy meg vagyunk-e, nem tudom, minket nagyon vigyáztak, de akiket a gázba küldtek, azokról ugyan kinek számoltak be? – ez a fehérlovas kiadta parancsba a lagerältestének [lásd: blockälteste], az egy lengyel zsidó nő volt, hogy a magyar letartóztatottakkal nincs megelégedve, és ha még egyszer ez előfordul, akkor megtizedelnek minket. Ez azt jelentette, hogy minden tizediket lelövik. És akkor a némelyek elkezdtek ideszaladni meg ugrálni, hogy nem akarnak tizedikek lenni. Pedig nem tudhatták, hogy honnan kezdik számolni, balról vagy jobbról vagy a közepétől. Azt mondta, hogy a magyar letartóztatottakkal, de mi nem voltunk letartóztatottak, hanem heftlingek. Az még rosszabb.

Krakkóból megint visszavittek minket Auschwitzba. Az egy kicsit különb volt, mint Birkenau, annyiból, hogy volt ott víz, jobban lehetett ott tisztálkodni, és nem a földön feküdtünk, hanem priccseken. Persze minden nélkül. Különben másban nem volt annyira különös. Amikor visszahoztak bennünket, újból szelektálás. Már mi is úgy voltunk, hogy megyünk a krematóriumba. Kitolattak minket a mellékvágányra. Egész éjjel ott voltunk, mert közben behozták a többi friss zsidóságot Belgiumból. Ekkor megint felállítottak a celappellra, szelektált a doktor úr. Hát akadt, akit balra tettek. Az volt az érdekes, hogy nem kaptunk semmi ruhaneműt, semmit. Mint a heringek, úgy voltunk összepréselve. Egész éjszaka ott maradtunk. Sötét volt. Volt ott egy nő, aki megőrült, elkezdett sikoltozni meg kiabálni. Hát nem csoda, olyan sokkot kapott szegény, de aztán azért rendbe jött. Nem lett elmebeteg, inkább olyan sokkszerű dolog lehetett. Egyszer csak olyan fekete öltözékű, lefátyolozott személyek érkeztek oda. Nem tudtuk, kik azok, avval is fokozódott a félelem. Másnap aztán vittek a fertőtlenítőbe, hogy mosakodjunk meg. Ruhaneműt adtak, és megmondták, hogy melyik barakkba megyünk. Azért álltunk meztelenül a sínen, mert úgy volt, hogy bevisznek a gázba, de valaki másokat vittek helyettünk. Állítólag azok helyére kerültünk. Ilyen volt a véletlen. Kellemetlen, borzalmas érzésünk volt, hogy így álltunk ott meg minden. Ez augusztusban történt. Hát ez valami kegyetlen volt. Összepréselve álltunk, és futkostak ezek a lefátyolozott emberek.

Auschwitzban találkoztam a budapesti unokatestvéremmel. A villamoson kapták el. Pestről azért vittek ki zsidókat, de őt csak véletlenségből. Kérték a jegygyűrűjét, és ő nem akarta odaadni, így elvitték szegényt. Az édesanyja Pesten maradt. Az utolsó lágerban megint evvel az unokatestvéremmel és a sógornőjével találkoztunk. Szegény édesanyám azt mondta: „Rózsikám, mink innen együtt megyünk haza.” Hát nem tudhatta még, de igaza volt.

Auschwitzból Friedenbergbe kerültünk, ahol egy gyár volt, Gebhardsdorf [Gebhardsdorf (Alsó-Szilézia) a gross-roseni koncentrációs tábor egyik altábora volt, ahová 1944 őszén hoztak néhány száz magyar nőt Auschwitzból. A helyi repülőgépalkatrész-gyárban dolgoztatták őket. Friedenberg nevű altábort szintén ismerjük a DEGOB-jegyzőkönyvekből, mint magyar zsidó nők szenvedéseinek helyszínét. – A szerk.]. A kommandoführerin elvitt minket a konyhára, és a konyhán kaptunk egy fehér csészét és egy fehér tálat. Ez egy nagyon emberséges és kellemes érzés volt. Kaptunk egy fél kenyeret is. Sírtunk a meghatottságtól! Kérdezték a konyhán ezek a szakácsnők, hogy miért sírunk. És mondták, akik jól beszéltek németül, hogy a meghatottságtól, mert eddig még ilyen nem volt. De hát ugye aztán már később ott is kevesebb volt az ennivaló, de el lehet mondani, hogy eleinte rendesen kaptunk enni. Kaptunk reggelit, ebédet, és kaptunk este is. Később már nekik se volt jóformán, mert jött hozzánk egy lengyel társaság, amikor megszűnt a lágerük. Azok is ki voltak éhezve, mert ők már nem tudom, hány éve voltak ott. Boldog voltam, hogy gyárba kerültem. Sokat dolgoztam, komoly, nagy gépen dolgoztam, de tudtam, hogy van egy helyem, és nem kell ide menni vagy oda menni, mert mikor nem volt mit csinálni, az nagyon rossz volt. Ez jó érzés volt.

Februárban gyalog meneteltünk Friedenbergből Kratzauba [Kratzau (ma: Chrastava, Csehország) – a második világháború alatt a gross-roseni koncentrációs tábor két altábora (Kratzau I. és II.) működött itt, ahol a Munitionsfabrik Spreewerk nevű fegyvergyárban dolgoztak zsidó női foglyok. – A szerk.]. Halálmenet volt. Útközben voltak ilyen födött helyek, lehet, hogy valamikor takarmányt raktak oda. Valamilyen pajta. Volt velünk egy kocsi is, amire rárakodtak. Azt gyalog húztuk, nem tudom már, hányan. Megérkeztünk Kratzauba, amit most úgy hívnak, hogy Chrastava. Liberectől van tizenöt kilométerre. Ott már nagyon nehéz körülmények voltak, úgy az evés szempontjából, mint a tisztálkodás szempontjából. Végül már tetű is volt meg minden. Keményen kellett dolgozni. Én például az erdőben dolgoztam. Föl kellett menni egy jó magas hegyre, és ott volt egy erdőség, ahol a németeknek voltak a bunkerjaik elrejtve. Oda hordtuk fel az árut. Drótkötél volt ott, és egy olyan nyitott csille, azt állították fel. Megrendelték a mesternél, mert volt egy mesterünk, hogy mit küldjünk le. Visszaküldték, és azt kellett a bunkerokba elrakni. Én már akkor arra nem gondoltam, hogy mit fogok a kezembe, de valószínűleg gránát meg ilyesmi lőszerek lehettek, mert ez is egy hadigyár volt. Ez volt az ötödik hely, ahol voltunk.

A kommandoführerin egy orvosnő volt. Egy ápolónő is volt velünk. Mindig mondtuk, hogy milyen jó azoknak, azok már szabadok. Egy szép napon behoztak egy nőt, aki terhes volt, meg is szült. A kommandoführerin adott is neki enni, hogy legyen teje a kicsinek. Szopott is a kicsi, minden sikerült. A kommandoführerin biztos kapott egy felső parancsot, megtudták, hogy mi történt. A nőt elküldte munkába, és mire hazajött, a gyereket elintézték. Vége lett. Biztos injekciót adtak neki. Ez borzasztó volt. Még az is borzasztó volt nekem, hogy meghalt ott egy nő, és sírt kellett ásni. Engem és egy másikat kiválasztottak. Mentünk, egy német katonanő jött velünk. Megástuk a sírt, már nem tudom, milyen mélységet mondott. Ahogy mentünk, az úton találtunk egy kerekrépát. De hogy annak hogyan megörültünk! Majd megesszük, legalább valami ennivaló akadt. Arra nem emlékszem, hogy bevittük-e a lágerba. De valószínű lehet. Azt tudom, hogy találtuk, és nagyon megörültünk neki. Nem is tudom, milyen répa volt, olyan kerek, mint a karalábé, de nem cukorrépa, biztos ez a marharépa [Kerekrépa vagy kerékrépa – rövid tenyészidejű, kerek alakú takarmányrépa, gyakran vetik a tarlóba. – A szerk.]. Mikor már ástuk a sírt, persze nehezen ment, mert erőnk sem volt. Ott volt nem messze a zsidó temető, hát ott ástuk. Amikor ástam a sírt, arra gondoltam, hogy Istenem, csak ne nekem kelljen eltemetni. Hát megsegített a jó Isten, nem én temettem el. Ki temette el, másik kettő, vagy hívtak valakit, arról már nem tudok. Zsúfolva voltunk abban a lágerban. Állítólag eredetileg egy malom volt, aztán berendezték fapriccsekkel. Emeletes volt. Volt ott verés, volt ott ütés, de nem olyan mértékben, mint Krakkóban. Ott olyanok voltak, mint a vadállatok. Azok a kutyák, amikor megláttuk… Te jó Isten, hogy mi vár itt minket! Az valami borzasztó volt. Maga a Birkenau, Auschwitz, és mégis két férfi megszökött. Azok hozták hírül, hogy mi van ott [lásd: Auschwitzi Jegyzőkönyv]. Azt mondanám, hogy oda még a madár se repülhetett be, mert villanyt vezettek be a drótkerítésbe. Azt ha megérintette az ember, vége volt. Minden a német precíz igazgatás. Azok a katonák, akik ott voltak, azok se tudtak mindenről, ami ott folyt. Tudták ők, hogy a kísérletezésben mi folyik, amikor a doktor Mengele végezte a kísérleteket, ikreken vagy másokon, kicsiken vagy a nagyokon. Aztán elküldte őket. Sőt azok, akik a krematóriumban dolgoztak, azokat is likvidálták, hogy ne derüljön ki semmi, de akkor is kiderült. De sajnos nem akadt az egész világon senki, aki beavatkozott volna. Ez a szomorú. Miért nem Amerika? Nem tudott volna beleszólni? Nem tudták volna lebombázni a krematóriumokat, ha akarták volna? Tudtak volna síneket robbantani, hogy már ne szállítsanak többet! A vége felé pláne! Még megmaradt volna egy jó pár ember! Nem csinált senki semmit! Tisztelet a kivételnek. Pár ember, aki bújtatott akár itt vagy Magyarországon. Nem sok, de akadt. Utána azok meg is kapták a kitüntetést, és a Jad Vasemba is bevésték a nevüket. A férjem rokonait is bújtatta egy ember. Eljött ide, Csehszlovákiába a háború után, és itt meg is nősült. Csehországban élt aztán. Megkapta ő is a kitüntetést, a férjem rokona intézte el neki, aki kint él Izraelban. Prágában elmentünk az izraeli követségre. Taxit fogadtunk, mert a férjem már nem tudott járni. Nagyon szép ünnepély volt, mikor megkapta a kitüntetést. Ez a férfi hontalan volt, mert ő is feketén élt Pesten, mert az apja orosz származású volt, mégis bújtatta a férjem nagybácsiját és családját.

Május kilencedikén szabadítottak fel minket Kratzauban az oroszok. Egy szép napon reggel nem szólt a füttyszó. Mamuska, a drága, az mindig olyan optimista volt, a három lányában is ő tartotta az életet, és azt mondta: „Mi van, nem szól a síp!” Kezdtünk mozgolódni, hogy mi történhetett, mert már nagyon gyanús volt. Egyszer csak megjelent a kommandoführerinünk, a német nő a lagerältestével, aki egy lengyel zsidó nő volt. Hatalmas, stramm, nagy nő, kimondottan megfelelt arra a szerepre, határozott, kemény volt, de mégsem mondhatom, hogy rossz. Azt mondta, járt a szobákban, hogy mivel közeledik a front, nemsokára átadlak titeket az ellenség kezébe. Neki ez az ellenség volt természetesen, de nekünk a felszabadítók voltak. Járt szobáról szobára, és még hozzátette: „Viselkedjetek rendesen, maradjatok csendben, ne menjetek sehova, ne futkossatok, hogy ne öntsetek olajat a tűzre, mert akkor még nagyobb baj lehet!” Hát kíváncsiak voltunk. Egyszer az egyik ment vécére, hogy valami újságot megtudjon, másodszor a másik. Hát hogy állítólag jönnek az oroszok, mert a partizánok jönnek előre lovas kocsikon. Valóban, ahogy bejárta a szobákat, lementünk az udvarra. Ki voltunk éhezve, nem volt mit ennünk. Az utolsó hetekben nagyon éheztünk, megtetvesedtünk. Jött az orosz. A kapuk még zárva voltak: „Mi az, ti még nem voltatok felszabadítva, kinyitva?!” Hát mondjuk, hogy nem. Aztán érdeklődött, hogy milyen volt a kommandoführerin, mondtuk neki, nem én konkrétan, de azok, akik tudtak oroszul, mert kárpátaljaiak is voltak köztünk, hogy nem vagyunk még felszabadítva. Az orosz mindig azt kérdezte, hogy milyen volt a kommandoführerin, hogy mondjuk meg az igazat. Nem mondhattuk, hogy olyan rossz volt, hogy megérdemelte volna a golyót. Azt mondtuk, hogy rendesen viselkedett velünk. Ahhoz képest, hogy német volt, és ő is felelősséggel tartozott, mert rangja is volt meg minden, ahhoz képest nem volt olyan rossz. Hallottuk, hogy ő védett meg minket, mert utolsó előtti nap a mi lágerünket akarták felrobbantani a németek. Ők védtek meg minket, az orvosnő, az ápolónő és ő. Ők aztán felültek a kocsira, és eltűntek, hogy hová? Nyomuk veszett. Nekik az már ki lehetett dolgozva.

Ezzel azt szerettem volna megjegyezni, hogy az, hogy az édesanyám és a három lánytestvér együtt maradtunk, ez nem volt talán még egy millióból se példa. Nem. Ez egy véletlen dolog volt. Azt is említsem meg, hogy az édesanyám kilencvenöt éves koráig élt Nyitrán, és kilencvenöt éves korában saját otthonában, saját gyerekei kezében ment el, azon a napon, amikor született, 1991. december tizenharmadikán. Születésnapja volt akkor.

Nagyon gyorsan haza akartunk menni, minél hamarább, mert a tetűtől kezdve, minden volt rajtunk. Ha még tovább maradtunk volna, akkor ne adj’ isten, kiüt a tífusz. Elindultunk először gyalog, aztán vonattal mentünk. Már hogy hol szálltunk ki, azt nem tudom, de emlékszem, hogy egy mozihelyiségbe kerültünk. Ott pihentünk. Azt tudom, hogy az egyik helyen gyalogolni kellett, mert a hidat felrobbantották. Aztán már csak vonatoztunk. Az állomásokon a csehek nagyon rendesek voltak. Teát adtak, meg enni osztogattak. Végre megérkeztünk, már nem tudom, mennyi idő alatt [Érsek]Újvárba. Érsekújvárban egy éjszakát töltöttünk. Másnap gyalog elindultunk Csúzra. Az legalább harminc kilométer volt. A nővérem, Erzsi Kürtre ment, mi, hárman és egy csúzi férfi pedig gyalogszerrel hazamentünk. Akkor már úgy kiéheztünk, hogy próbáltunk a házaknál egy darab kenyeret kérni. Mindenhol azt mondták, hogy nincs. Nem adtak. Nem. Látták, hogy honnan jövünk, de hogy nincs nekik se. Azért az nem volt igaz, hogy nincs nekik se. Mi nagyon ki voltunk éhezve és lefogyva egy év után. Ha pedig nem lett volna ez a kivételes helyünk a gyárban, akkor nem is tudom, talán egyáltalán nem jöttünk volna haza.

Mikor megérkeztünk, nem maradt semmink. A házunkban is más ember lakott, és nem akart kimenni. A szomszédban kaptunk egy ideig szállást. Ott aludtunk meg étkeztünk is. Aztán valahogy napról napra összeszedtük magunkat. Egy szög nem maradt a falban. Semmi nem volt. Nem akartak kimenni a házból, az volt a legborzasztóbb. Arra már pontosan nem emlékszem, hogy hogy sikerült visszaszerezni a házunkat. Elmentünk-e a községházára vagy hivatalos úton… Neki volt hova menni, mert mialatt nem voltunk otthon, az illetőnek volt egy üzlete. Soha nem gondoltam volna azt, hogy ő egy olyan ember. Ismertük, persze, Csúzon majdnem mindenki mindenkit ismert, pláne, ha egy utcában laktunk azelőtt.

Ja, hogy én milyen boldogan ettem! Mentem az ismerősökhöz, és azt mondják, hogy van darás tésztánk. Ennél? Mondom, nem szégyelltem magam, nagyon éhes voltam akkoriban, ha lehetséges, akkor kérek. Azt hittem, hogy az életemben annál jobbat nem ettem. Mi a lágerban gondolatban állandóan főztünk. Éhesek voltunk, és állandóan főztünk. Az egyik mesélte, hogy ezt szokta csinálni, a másik azt mondta. Egy alkalomból az anyuka is mondott valami ételt, és egy csúzi lány azt mondta: „Jaj, Weisz néni, hogy én ezt hogy megenném!” „Ne félj semmit, ha hazakerülünk, majd csinálok, és meghívlak!” Így is volt. Mikor kicsit volt miből, akkor megfőzte, és meghívta. De az már nem olyan volt, mint ahogy elképzeltük. Nagyon jó volt, de… Álmodtam vele, hogy ez ilyen jó, meg olyan jó.

Az első pénzt a család részére az édes jó anyám kereste. Egy nagyon ügyes asszony volt. Elkezdte. Kinyitotta az üzletet. Eleinte kicsiben, aztán kicsit mindig több árut vitt, és azt árulta. Kinyitotta újból az üzletet. Aztán mikor államosították, megint csak nem volt semmi. Zsuzsi testvérem végig a mamuskával maradt, mert ő nem ment annyira fiatalon férjhez, talán 1952-ben. A férje, Rujder Martin Csúzra jött lakni. Először Csúzon laktak, utána [Érsek]Újvárban, végül Nyitrán.

1945 szeptemberében elmentem Kürtre, Erzsi nővéremhez egy kicsit segíteni. A mamuska is üzletet nyitott, és Zsuzsika nővérem vele maradt. Én meg elmentem Erzsihez segíteni. Minden héten jártam haza. Egy ideig pedig ott is laktam. Kürtön lakott a boldogult férjem unokatestvére, ő meg Zselízből jött neki segíteni az üzletben [Zselíz – kisközség volt Bars vm. Lévai járásában, 1910-ben 2300 magyar lakossal. Trianon után Csehszlovákiához került. – A szerk.]. Ekkor ismerkedtünk meg. Megtetszettem neki, ő viszonylag fiatal volt. Szegénynek nem jött senkije vissza, egyedül maradt. Komolyra fordult a dolog. 1946-ban megesküdtünk. Ő huszonkét éves volt, én pedig húsz. Az esküvőt otthon, Csúzon, az udvarunkban tartottuk meg. Ott állították fel a hüpét. Sallóból jött két testvér, akiknek olyan tudásuk volt, mintha rabbik lettek volna, és azok adtak össze [lásd: házasság, esküvői szertartás]. A polgári esküvőt pedig Nagyölveden tartottuk meg.

Ondrej Kováčnak hívták a férjem, de tulajdonképpen ő Kohn Andornak született 1924-ben, Zselízen. Nem tudom pontosan, mikor változtatta meg a nevét, de biztos 1945 után. Akkor azt tanácsolták neki, hogy iparengedélyt csak akkor fog kapni, ha nem Kohn lesz. De annak dacára sem sikerült. Volt egy nővére, Kohn Márta, de szegény a szüleivel ottmaradt. Idősebb volt olyan két évvel. A férjem munkaszolgálatos volt. Aztán elvitték őket a lágerba. Egy hétig vagy meddig mentek a hajóval Mauthausenba. Günskirchenben és Mauthausenban is volt. A hajón egyáltalán nem kaptak enni. Egy hétig utaztak. Azt mesélte, hogy neki akkor még volt egy kis fogkrémje. Olyan éhes volt, hogy összekeverte valamivel a fogkrémet, ne legyen szagos, és azt ette meg az úton. Mikor visszajött a lágerból, negyvenvalamennyi kiló volt. Nagyon sovány volt, de magas, több mint száznyolcvan. Csont és bőr, ahogy mesélte. Nem ismertem akkor még. 1946-ban ismertem meg, de akkor már emberséges embernek nézett ki.

A férjem Pesten tanulta ki a bőrdíszműves mesterséget. A háború után gabonafelvásárlással foglalkozott. A férjem nagybácsija Nagyölveden élt egyedül, nem volt nős ember. A családból nem tért vissza senki, csak az én férjem. Az esküvő után odamentünk lakni a nagybácsihoz, Nagyölvedre [Nagyölved – nagyközség volt Esztergom vm. Párkányi járásában, 1891-ben 1700, 1910-ben 1800 magyar lakossal. Trianon után Csehszlovákiához került, ma Szlovákiában van. – A szerk.]. A férjemnek volt egy háza Zselízen, a szülői ház, de ő nem akart ott maradni. Ha nem kellett, nem is ment oda, mert borzalmas élményei voltak neki. Nem is jött haza senki. Kiadta azt a házat. Szóval, odamentünk a nagybácsihoz, és nála éltünk tizenhárom évig. Neki egy kis falusi üzlete volt. Ott dolgozott a bácsi és én. A férjem először Zselízen helyezkedett el egy hivatalban, és aztán eljött [Nagy]Ölvedre mint gabonafölvásárló. 1959-ben bejöttünk [Érsek]Újvárba, leszázalékolták őt invalidba. Bazedovkórban szenvedett [A pajzsmirigy megbetegedése, Karl Basedowról nevezték el, aki elsőként írta le a pajzsmirigytúltengés tünetcsoportját. – A szerk.]. Annak idején nem operálták meg, és kidülledt a szeme, és veszélyeztetve volt a látása az operációval. Később elkerült izotópiára, és ott kapott radiojódos kezelést. A vizeletét is külön kellett gyűjteni, mert egy kis kisugárzás volt benne. Vér nélküli operációnak nevezték, roncsolta a mirigyeket. Veszélyes volt, mert a pontos adagot nem ismerték. Így sokkal több sejt is elpusztulhatott volna. Mégis azért használt. Élete végéig állandó gyógyszeres kezelésben részesült. A végén azért kellett gyógyszert szednie, mert csökkent funkciója volt.

1959-ben eljöttünk Nagyölvedről ide, Érsekújvárba lakni. Vettünk egy házat, valamikor egy raktár volt, kárpitosműhely. Két szoba volt benne. Nem volt ott se víz, se fürdőszoba. Nem volt ott semmi. Mi építettük át, a gázt is bevezettük. Nagyon-nagyon sok mindent kellett ott elvégezni, hogy lakás legyen belőle. Tizenhárom év után szanálni kellett, és akkor jöttünk el ide lakni. A házhoz egy kis kert is tartozott. Eleinte jó volt, mert a férjem egyedül maradt otthon. Kikapcsolódás volt számára a kert, mert én munkába jártam, a Marika pedig iskolába. Én nem értettem a kerthez. Mikor elment Izraelba, akkor rám bízta. Ahogy visszajött, azt mondta, hogy a növényt szedtem ki a gaz helyett. Meg akartam lepni, hogy milyen ügyes vagyok. A gazt otthagytam, és a növényt szedtem ki. Akkor azt mondta, hogy nem vagyok a kertbe való. Mondom, elismerem, de viszont az én édesanyám, az igen. Csúzon volt kertünk, az nagyon tudta. Voltak szilvafák, volt mindenből ültetve. A kútból öntöztünk, mert ott nem volt vízvezeték, még villany se. Csak a háború után lett bevezetve a villany, az unokabátyám indítványozására. Meg is valósította, a faluba bevezették a villanyt. Petróleumlámpával világítottunk addig.

A férjem már nem dolgozott, így nekem kellett ellátni a családot. Én addig [Nagy]Ölveden voltam az üzletben, de csak besegítettem, mert az a bácsi nevén folyt. Később, amikor államosították, Jednota lett belőle. Kitalálták, mivel a bácsinak volt valamennyi földje, hogy kulák [lásd: kulákok Csehszlovákiában]. Így nem lehetett vedúci [üzletvezető (szlovák)]. Szlovákul nem tudtam, de olyan helyre szerettem volna menni, ahol akár fizikai munka is lett volna, de csak befejezem a munkát, eljövök, és nem kell gondolkodnom tovább. Semmi leltár és ilyesmi. [Érsek]Újvárban sikerült bekerülnöm a Renokovba. Nem volt egyszerű, de bekerültem. Mindenfélét dolgoztam ott, már amit kellett. Hűtőpultokat, hűtővitrineket szereltek ott akkoriban. A poliésztert fűrészeltem beléjük. Szóval, ami jött. Volt olyan is, hogy kézimunkáztuk. Pléhvel is kellett dolgozni. Azok éles dolgok voltak, úgyhogy kesztyűkben dolgoztunk. Azt a kesztyűt megszokni… gyorsan kellett dolgozni, mert az egyik elkezdte, a másik folytatta. Mire végére ért, és nem sikerült berakni az egészet, az, aki a végén állt, az préselte be. Így váltakoztunk. Villanymotorokat is tekercseltem. Azt is betanították, mikor itt nem volt munka. Az volt mindenhol. Ha nincs munka, akkor oda tettek. Ha ott megint nem volt munka, akkor amoda tettek. Ha a gyárban volt ránk szükség, akkor oda tettek minket. Az igazgató testvérével és a férjével dolgoztam. 1968-ban, negyvenkét évesen kerültem nyugdíjba.

A kommunizmus alatt nem voltak problémáim az miatt, hogy zsidó vagyok. Személy szerint nem, de a munkahelyen mégiscsak történt egy incidens. Nem volt az nagy incidens, de mégiscsak. Jött egy férfi, és úgy lépett a helyiségbe, hogy hol van az a zsidó. Nem rám gondolt, egy férfira. Ott dolgozott mint villanyszerelő. Mindig kiálltam a zsidóságom mellett, soha nem szégyelltem azt, hogy zsidó vagyok. Az vagyok, és amíg élek, az maradok. Odaugrottam, egyedül voltam ott zsidó, és mondom neki: „Annak a zsidónak nincs neve?” Megrökönyödött, megtudta biztos, hogy én is az vagyok. Mondtam neki: „Mi lenne, ha magát keresnék a vallása szerint?!” Ha lehetett, nem jött már a közelembe. Ennek az illetőnek, akiről szó volt, ezt elmeséltem. Ő erre azt mondta: „Klárika, tudja mit. Ha nem tesznek elé szagot vagy utána szagot, akkor még hagyjuk békében!” Hogy büdös zsidó, mert úgy szokták a primitív emberek mondani. Addig nem érdemes foglalkozni a dologgal, mert természetes, hogy antiszemitizmus volt, van és lesz. Mindig a zsidó az oka mindennek

Két gyermekem született. Az első, aki Csúzon van, és a Marika. Az első lányom 1948-ban született, az volt Kohn Mártuska. A Kohn néven nem szerepelünk, de a sírkőn és ilyesmire odateszem. A férjemnek a nővére volt Márta, ő akarta. Rövidítve Tusika volt. Sajnos pár hetes korában halt meg, szegényke. Egyik óráról a másikra történt. Marika pedig 1950-ben született.

Marika még Nagyölveden kezdett iskolába járni. Három évet járt oda. A negyediket itt fejezte be [Érsekújváron]. Magyar iskolába járt, mert ott, helyben nem volt szlovák iskola, a szomszéd községbe kellett volna járni, de nem mertük hagyni. Féltettük, hogy megfázik, a buszokra várni meg minden. Nem veszített semmit a világon, sőt nyert, mert a magyar helyesírás és a szlovák is tökéletes. A tanulmányait az ekonómiai középiskolán folytatta. Nem járt főiskolára.

Marika nagyon jó kislány volt, csak egy kicsit akaratos. Nagyon aranyos volt. Súlyos beteg voltam, ízületi gyulladásban szenvedtem, így gyakran el kellett mennem fürdőbe, olyankor mindig a nagymama és a Zsuzsika vigyáztak rá. Csúzon vállalták őt. Közben, 1950-ben nagyon beteg lettem, akkor is náluk volt. Hat hétig feküdtem a kórházban a sebészeten élet és halál között. Foghúzás miatt. Vérmérgezést kaptam, és későn jöttek rá, hogy mi az. Három hétig krízisben voltam. Nem is tudtam magamról. Már ott tartottam, hogy az egész arcom be volt dagadva, az orrom, a szemem, az ujjaim elkékültek. Akkor még voltak az apáca nővérek. Nagyon rendesek és pontosak voltak, minden három órában hozták a penicillint. Még csak penicillin volt, más nem volt. Nagy újság volt az még ötvenben [A penicillin tömeggyártása 1940-ben kezdődött meg az Egyesült Államokban, de a térségben ekkoriban még nehezen lehetett hozzájutni. – A szerk.]. Meg kellett operálni engem, a rengeteg gennyet, elöregedett gennyet ki kellett tisztítani. Meggyógyultam, de örökre megbénultak az idegek. Nem nyílik rendesen a szám, csak egy kicsit. Eleinte még annyit se. A férjem csináltatott egy fát, ami fokozatosan emelkedett, és avval kellett feszegetnem. Tornáztatni.

Marika első munkahelye Érsekújvárban volt, egy drogériai nagyraktár hivatalában. Nem tudom, milyen osztályon volt. Pozsonyban is dolgozott egy ideig a UNZ-on [Ústav národného zdravia – Nemzeti egészségügyi intézet], de aztán visszajött a združené stavbyba [építészeti hivatal]. Utána már betették invalidba. A legtöbbet a drogériában volt. Sokat járt Pozsonyba annak idején, mert neki kellett bemutatnia a szortimentot [választékot] és a megrendeléseket. Havonta többször is bement. Ezen a három helyen dolgozott. Marika nem volt férjnél.

Marika az érettségi után, körülbelül 1967-ben vagy 1968-ban kiutazott Izraelba. Ott tartózkodott pár hétig. Egyszer a férjem is volt. Csak az a különbség, hogy a férjem hajóval ment, a Marika meg Görögországból repült. Szerencsére nem voltak belőle 1968-ban problémák. Sikerült megoldani. Szerették volna, de nem állt kötélnek. Sokan áldozatul estek. Nagyon sokan. A férjem kint maradt három vagy négy hétig, de micsoda élményekkel jöttek haza mindketten! Mindig mondták, hogy menjek, de én valahogy nem akartam. Kezdjük ott, hogy valamikor az nem volt egy olcsó dolog. A férjemnek is a nagybácsija fizette a hajót. Repülővel nagyon sokba került a mi viszonyainkhoz, de nem is akartam, mert valahogy félek a repüléstől. Örültem, hogy ő elkerült, mert nagyon nagy baráti köre van ott, sőt a rokonai is elmentek oda.

A háború után a vallást nem lehetett nagyon tartani. Nem volt ott mikve, kóser háztartás se. Csak ünnepekre szoktunk bejárni Érsekújvárba vágatni, amíg volt metsző [sakter]. Utána már nem. A szombatot, amennyire lehetett, betartottuk [lásd: szombati munkavégzés tilalma], mert akkor szombaton még dolgozni kellett [Ugyanis hatnapos volt a munkahét, szombaton némileg rövidebb munkaidővel. – A szerk.]. De otthon soha nem főztem, nem mostam. Mindig más napon van a mosás. A sertéshúst nem ettük meg [lásd: étkezési törvények], akkor még nem, már csak aztán. Szóval megmondhatnám úgy őszintén, hogy nagyon kevés ember maradt kóser. Például [Érsek]Újvárban tudomásom szerint csak egy asszonynak van kóser háztartása. Ha a fiához megy, húst meg ilyesmit nem eszik náluk.

Most, amióta nyugdíjban vagyok, szombaton nem főzök, igyekszem nem utazni, ha nem muszáj. Kóser nincs, mert nagyon nagy probléma lenne. Könnyebb nem tartani, mint tartani. Aki tartja, az nagyon nagy áldozatot hoz. Pláne itt és falun, ez képtelenség. Még Pozsonyban, ott rendben van, de [Érsek]Újvárba hozatni kell a húst meg mindent.

Mindig figyelem, mi történik Izraelban. Általában minden híradót, ha tehettem, akkor néztem, de sajnos soha semmi jó nincs. Csak az emberölés van. Nem mindig van úgy, ahogy a híradóban előadják. Izraelt mindenért okolják, mindenről ők tehetnek. Ők már nem azok, mint mi voltunk. Meg tudják magukat védeni. Nekünk nem volt rá lehetőségünk. Akkoriban a gyerekek kérdezték: „Nem tudtátok magatokat megvédeni? Hagytátok magatokat, mint a birkákat, előre hajtani?” Azok a gyerekek nem tudták, ma már biztos felnőttek, és már tudják, hogy ott nem volt lehetőség. Ma van egy haza, és ha bántják őket, akkor ők kötelesek megvédeni magukat.

Az 1948-as eseményekre nem nagyon emlékszem [Valószínűleg a Slánský-perre gondol, bár maga a per néhány évvel később zajlott. – A szerk.]. Nem is vettem nagyon észre. Csak az 1968-as évet [lásd: Prágai tavasz] tudom, mert éppen akkor mentem komisszióra [orvosi felülvizsgálatra]. A házból az egyik lakó azt mondja, hogy bejöttek az oroszok. „Bejöttek az oroszok? Hogyan?” „Tele van tankkal a város, katonák minden!” „Juj, hát nekem most kell, máma komisszióra menni!” És azt mondta, hogy nyugodtan menjek, úgy csináljak, hogy se jobbra, se balra ne nézzek. Egyenesen menjek. Gondoltam, hogy ma biztos be fog tenni a komisszióorvos [Vagyis leszázalékolja a felülvizsgáló orvos. – A szerk.]. Dehogy, még hagyott kínlódni az év végéig. December végén elismerte a bajaimat. Akkor már sürgős volt, mert év végén lejárt a betegállomány. Azt mondta, hogy könnyebb munkát vállalhatok. Elmentem az üzemi orvoshoz, és előadtam neki, hogy ez és ez a helyzet. Nem tettek be invalidba, és én már nem tudom azt a munkát csinálni. Lágerból hazajöttem, gerinc- és ízületi gyulladásom volt. Azt mondja: „Tudja, mit, fog jönni hozzám a komisszióorvos, jöjjön el ekkor és ekkor, és ennek adja ezt elő.” Elmentem, és elmondtam, hogy fiatalkoromban, tizenhét évesen megjártam Auschwitzot kétszer is. Betegen jöttem haza, és elmentem dolgozni, mert a férjem már invalid, és nem tud dolgozni. Elmentem, mert kellett, hogy valaki dolgozzon, ha nehezen is tudja csinálni, hogy tudjunk élni valahogyan. Nem tett be a főorvos úr invalidba, és most nem tudok dolgozni, mert beteg vagyok. Azt mondta: „Maga gyógyítva kell hogy legyen, és ha nem gyógyítják ki, akkor be kell hogy tegyék invalidba!” Sikerült. 1968-ban betettek invalidba.

Az 1989-es év számomra nem hozott semmi változást. A fiataloknak többet hozott. De mégiscsak lehet utazni, akinek kint vannak a gyerekei vagy hozzátartozói. Ez nagy dolog, hogy látogathatják egymást. Menni is lehet, meg jönni is. És az, hogy Csehszlovákia különvált. Gondolom, hogy nem volt rossz, amikor egyben voltak. Amikor szétválasztották, akkor kicsit nem esett jól, úgy, mint másnak. Most ez van, ezt kell szeretni.

2003-ben meghalt a férjem, itt, [Érsek]Újvárban temettük el. A nyitraiak is itt lesznek eltemetve, hogy együtt legyen az egész család. A mamuska már itt van. Amikor temetés van, és a koporsónál állunk, csak fa koporsó van. Egyszerű gyalulatlan deszkából [lásd: temetés]. Akkor bevágunk a ruhán egy darabot, és ezt én meg-megtépem [lásd: a gyászolók ruhájának megszaggatása (köria)]. Valaki ragaszkodik ahhoz, hogy mondják a beszédet, valaki pedig nem. Elmondják a beszédet, imádkozunk. A temetés után tartjuk a süve ülést [lásd: gyász], alacsonyan nyolc napig. Ekkor szoktak jönni a az ismerősök látogatóba. Jönnek, pár szót szólnak. Utána ha akarok, kimegyük a temetőbe. Mi kimentünk, amikor a férjem elment, és aztán is mentünk a sírkövet megcsináltatni. Azt már ő elintézte, mert a sok héber feliratot ő tudta. Az megvolt itthon nálam.
 

Bella Bogdanova

Bella Bogdanova
Riga
Latvia
Interviewer: Svetlana Kovalchuk
Date of interview: August 2001

My family and young years

During the war

Life after liberation

My husband and daughter

Glossary

My family and young years

I have tried to pass to my daughter, all the grace and benevolence I gained from my family circle before I was fifteen. I lost everything, all my family in 1941. Fifteen years of happiness ended abruptly. First my father was shot on 24th July 1941; then my mother, brothers, Granny and other close relatives were murdered on the Chanukkah holiday, 13th December 1941. My husband was the last one I kept with me. The Lord took him away 19 years ago. He died suddenly in my arms. I became orphaned around the age of 15 – I lived 15 years with my parents, and I lived 34 years with my spouse.

My mother, Bertha Blumberg [nee Brenner] was born on 8th August 1899. She had a sister, Paula Brenner, born in 1901 and a brother, Shaya Brenner. All of them were born in Kuldiga [155 km west of Riga]. Probably my mother went to school at the Kuldiga Gymnasium [the city was called Goldingen until 1920]. Her parents died early so she went with some relatives over to Liepaja [port city, 215 km west of Riga]. A lot of the Brenners lived in Liepaja. Uncle Shaya stayed in Kuldiga till 1940, but Aunt Paula lived together with us. She had a personal tragedy and remained unmarried – so she lived together with us. I know very little about my mother’s family. I know practically no dates. The only thing I can say for sure is that the Brenner clan was very large. It was something different with my father’s relatives.

I have more information about my father’s relatives. This is thanks to the fact that my Granny, my father’s mother, lived a long life. My father’s name was Hasl Blumberg. He was born on 5th January 1901. He learned watch-making from a watchmaker. This was arranged in accordance with the tradition that sons were apprenticed to craftsmen. He had a brother named Meier, born in 1899. He was a drover like their father. My father looked like my grandfather, but Meier looked like Granny. They were very different people deep down and in the way they carried themselves, too.

Our other Aunt Paula was my father’s sister. Paula went to Canada, married somebody from Liepaja and had three children. She came back to Latvia in 1924 or 1925. They lived with our granny. Later her husband took two children away to Canada, but the youngest, Genya, stayed with her mother. She survived the Holocaust. She was liberated by the British and then she went to her father in Canada. But Aunt Paula remarried in Lithuania. She was pregnant when the Germans put her in the camp. They cut open her stomach while she was pregnant.

My grandfather’s name was Leibe. He was born in Grobini [small town in today’s Latvia] in 1864. My granny – his wife – was from Pikeli, Lithuania [a small city called Pikeliai in Lithuanian, Pikeln in Yiddish, located in the North of Lithuania bordering with Latvia]. Her family name was Strol. I think she was born in 1864. I know nothing about her marriage. They lived in Grobini at the very beginning, but later they moved to Liepaja. That was because there was a tendency for Jews to move from small Lithuanian cities to Courland. [Courland is the historic designation of the left bank of the river Daugava, in today’s Latvia, where Jews coming from Germany used to dwell.] Maybe my granny got there in this way.

Granny didn’t speak German, so we spoke to her in German, but she answered in Yiddish. Yiddish was the language in which they communicated. She understood us well and gave us 20 centimes for visiting her. I loved my granddad so much! He had horses and a cart. In winter, when the snow was deep, he took us around Liepaja on a sledge, with a horse, which had bells on. Jews in our family were invariably well off.

Granddad died in 1935, while Granny was killed on Chanukkah on 13th December 1941. My granddad was the only one amongst my kin who died in a human manner. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find his tomb in Liepaja. After Granddad’s death we visited Granny each Saturday. My father always gave her money, but his brother Meier begrudged this.

My granny was an orthodox Jew and very religious. She wore a wig and prayed. Granddad and Granny lived separately. Granddad visited the bes medresh every day, which was situated near a big, beautiful synagogue. Before going to the bes medresh he put on his tefillin. Granddad was very religious, but my father was different. We had an ordinary Jewish home. Granddad and Granny didn’t try to make us orthodox. Sabbath was still Sabbath, of course. Daddy visited the synagogue with us on the holidays. Every holiday was celebrated. The rituals were observed as well. We kept kosher and had special dishes for dairy food and for meat.

When Pesach came, my mother took out silver dishes and the best golden one. On the first and second seder we stayed at home. On the second day our relatives came, and all of my cousins would be there. The children ran around, we made a lot of noise and jumped around. It fitted the holiday. Our house was a very hospitable one. My mother cooked a lot of special, sweet Jewish dishes such as kneydlakh, boiled with honey and almonds. The adults sat in the lounge, but we were in the dining room. When it was time for dinner, everybody gathered in there at the big dining table.

My mother fed a lot of people at that table; there were relatives and assistants of my father, too. My father often worked at home. There were six of us in our family: Mother, Daddy, Aunt Paula and three children. My father earned money enough to keep a family of six people. He kept a lodging-house of five rooms with full utilities. We lived on the first floor of a two-storey building.

I loved my father very much, my mother, too. But Daddy would always help anyone who needed it. He was a watchmaker. There was a clock production enterprise in Liepaja, which belonged to Ruseniek. He bought components – the small machinery needed for clocks – in Switzerland and then my father and his team assembled clocks. Watches were especially popular. There were two names on the clock-faces; the first was the Swiss company and the second was Ruseniek. He was a Jew, a rich one. He had two houses. My father was well known in Liepaja, he was a man of stature and very popular. As a rule, Daddy came home at 6 o’clock; when he was late I became nervous and it shook me. ‘Where have you been?’ I would ask him. But he would just hug and kiss me.

My mother always took out library books in German. She bought children’s books for me in German; we had a lot of them. I loved to read books on Saturdays until 11-12am, because we had a routine: first breakfast at 8am, second breakfast at 11am, lunch between 1 and 2pm, tea-time at 5pm and dinner at 8pm. We were fed well. Maybe it was thanks to this that I survived. My body was well nourished. We had drinking-chocolate and bread and butter with salmon or sausage for the first breakfast. Chocolate every morning! Also, at 7am two liters of milk would arrive at the front door. We had scrambled eggs, poultry, vegetable salad, coffee and milk for second breakfast. Lunch was just lunch.

I didn’t like the taste of mushy porridge oats or drinking a cup of sweet cream. I was thin and pasty-faced. So my mother paid me 20 centimes for drinking it. I had a piggybank and it helped me save money. When Mother’s Day came in May, my little brother and I bought daffodils for Mother with that money. He had no savings because he ate everything and was never paid.

I remember my mother’s evening dresses for going to parties with my father. One of her gowns was a full-length, deep-cut, black dress with a big white rose. Another evening dress was full-length and lacy. When they were going to parties, my father told the yard keeper in advance that they had to go and a car would be summoned. Can you imagine? I saw so much beauty and grace during the first 15 years of my life!

What mischief we got up to, Abrasha [Abraham Greinom] and myself, when our mother and father left us alone! I was closer to him than to my youngest brother. I was born in 1926, and Abrasha was three years younger; he was born in 1929. The difference between my youngest brother and me was nine years. Hirsh Isaac – we called him Harry at home – was born in 1935. I made up both my brother and myself, including lipstick. We used my mother’s perfume, too. I put Mother’s high-heel shoes on! We went through everything! We had a large salon with a big mirror. So we’d stand in front of the mirror arm in arm. I’d say to him, ‘We are beautiful, aren’t we, Abrashenka?’ And he always said, ‘Yes.’

We had no servants, but a woman came on Fridays to help clean our apartments. Of course, Aunt Paula lived with us, so she helped a lot. In those days in Liepaja, the streets were washed both in the mornings and evenings. Nobody took their street shoes off in the house; we weren’t used to slippers. The yard keeper was the right-hand man of the landlord. It was a Jewish house we lived in; we took up the first floor. The city of Liepaja was mainly Jewish. About 90 percent of the houses belonged to Jews, plus all of the shops and banks.

For the laundry there was another special woman, who washed linen for a whole week once every three months. She washed it in a huge boiler in the yard. Mother paid her well, provided for her and gave her some food, too. We lived well; we had enough linen – more than six pillowcases and six sheets.

I was a pampered girl when I was young! I used to do nothing at home. A woman was hired and used to come each Friday, on the eve of Sabbath. She cleaned everything, polished the floors. My mother did some light cleaning every day with a small rag. If Mother sent me to the kitchen, to check on the boiling kettle, I would cry loudly, ‘Mommy, it hisses and steams!’ I was pampered too much. I was their only daughter, so I was my father’s best beloved.

I attended the best private kindergarten in Liepaja and afterwards, the best elementary school. Doctor Hyte was the headmaster of these institutions. I don’t remember his first name. My brother Abrashenka attended a school where they taught only in Hebrew. After Ulmanis 1 became the ruler, Yiddish was used as a teaching language. Daddy sent me to the best school to make the best person of me I could be. German was the language of instruction there. I had private English lessons for two years.

Our school didn’t have a religious denomination. We had two lessons per week on religious history and two on Bible studies. Religious subjects would be taught in Hebrew, of course. And I got straight A’s, naturally. My father spoke Hebrew well. He translated everything for me and helped me; I forgot everything, because I could be rather empty-headed. Our school was shut on Jewish holidays. We liked our homeroom teacher, Hanna Hermer, very much. She was very nice, but she died at an early age.

I finished only seven grades of school, but the level of education was very high there. It could be compared to eight or ten years at a Soviet school. That was my whole education. Maybe I would have become something worthwhile if the war hadn’t happened. I had a good girlfriend. We went to one another’s birthday parties. Beautiful birthday parties used to be arranged in those days.

I had a room for myself, and my brother Abrasha had his own, too. We only had five rooms, but we needed six, so my father could work at home in peace. He had to work in my brother’s bedroom. He divided the room in order not to trouble my brother. My mother and father had only love and very few material possessions in the beginning, but as time passed they became quite well off. One time my father was working behind the room divider while Mother was sitting and patching our socks. She said to him, ‘Let’s sell everything and go to America.’ Father replied, ‘What do you mean! We have such a nice living here. We have everything we need. How could we give it all away and go abroad?’ Mother regularly tried to budge him; maybe she had a premonition. I was a real Daddy’s girl and never liked the idea of flying away.

We lived so well; what our parents gave to all three of us, I wasn’t able to give to my only daughter. I remember my father drawing a salary every Friday. He bought us fruits all year round. I even tasted chocolate candies. I was a real villain and told Abrashenka, ‘You are a young man, you are not allowed to eat too much chocolate!’ He was obedient and gave me his portion. Mother said, ‘For shame! It’s for Abrashenka, you have already had your piece!’ ‘But Mommy, I like them so much!’ ‘At this rate, I will give you mine.’ Everything was for us.

Now I am going to tell you about the personality of Jews from Courland. We had a totally different mentality. It is difficult to describe; it must be felt inside. Ours is, in all aspects, another culture. For example, let us compare Jews from Courland with those who live in Latgale [Latgale is a province situated in the South-East of Latvia]. We are precise, punctual. The influence of German mentality is noticeable. German literature, music and culture have influenced Jews from Courland. I don’t mean to say that everyone in the Jewish community of Courland was an intellectual – far from it. But our community, our social circle, I mean my family, my classmates, we had a German upbringing.

I think there is nothing in common between culture, music and Fascism. They are different things – culture and Fascism. I still read German books. I adore German music and German hits [so-called ‘Schlager’]. My mother used to sing German hits when cooking dinner in the kitchen. I like the German language, but I hate the Germans with all the energy of my soul. I never could forgive them for what they did to me. I lost everything at the age of 15. The only treasure I possess is my daughter Rita. I despise those who had been imprisoned in concentration camps but now go to Germany ‘for a piece of bread.’ [Editor’s note: Since the fall of the Berlin wall, about 200,000 immigrants from the former Soviet Union have come to Germany as contingency refugees, those who could prove Jewish ancestry and therefore gained a status that almost guaranteed a visa to Germany. Most of these people were motivated by a desire for better material conditions.] They sell their souls. I am offended by them. I cannot imagine that it would ever be possible for me to go to Germany. I am Daddy’s girl, in spite of my likeness to Mother. I never liked the idea of going away anywhere. When, after the concentration camp, my second cousin Lea applied to go to Palestine, I said, ‘What would I do there?’

There were great villas in Courland. Each one was prettier than the next. On the right, there was Grobini, on the left – Ilgumezh. It was a wonderful place. A lot of Germans used to live there; Germans first came to Livland [the old name of Latvia] in 1201. Once we rented a bungalow there. The hostess was a German baroness; she let large rooms with a balcony. We rented bungalows every year in different places in the forest near Liepaja.

During the war

My childhood was wonderful, but it ended abruptly when I was 15. I could never imagine that all my family would be shot. My father was shot on 24th July 1941, but we didn’t know that. Maybe it would have been possible to evacuate then. My mother wanted to flee, but I insisted that not a step be taken without my father. And what was the result? I stayed alive but they were lost. God!

How I adored Daddy! I hoped that maybe he could be the one of a thousand or more people evacuated from Liepaja. I couldn’t even imagine the death camps. I thought: when the Germans come, maybe I won’t be allowed to study. My mother read the newspapers and she was shocked. Germans had been thought to be cultured people. I couldn’t have imagined it at all. I would lose my father in the space of a few days and become orphaned within the coming months. My mother, brothers, Granny and other close relatives were murdered on the Chanukkah holiday, 13th December 1941.

On that day, Mother collected everything when policemen came to take us away. They told us, ‘Take your pillows and blankets with you.’ I asked them, ‘Are you going to take me away, too?’ They replied, ‘We don’t have enough room. We will be back tomorrow for you.’ They came back the next morning at 5am and took me into custody. When I saw the prison site it became clear to me where my father, mother, Granny, brothers and sisters were. It was icy, about minus 30 degrees, deep snow, but people stood in nightdresses, with bare legs! It was horrible. How could I get out of that prison?

Policemen led me to the prison’s warden. Can you imagine who he was? He was our stableman, Krastins. He said, ‘What are you doing here, Bella?’ I replied, ‘I don’t know, they brought me here.’ He said in turn, ‘Go home quickly.’ Then he ordered the policeman, ‘Take this girl back home and not so much as a hair on her head is to be touched.’ Mother, Granny, Aunt Paula and my little brothers had been taken to be shot instantly.

I went home, washed myself and then went to work; there were kitchens in the military camp. Later, when I went back home after work, I understood everything. Jews had been shot from the very beginning. From 22nd June 1941 2, there were seven days of shootings. My father was caught in the city center when he came back after work, and was shot. Mass shootings took place in December 1941, near the seashore, too. The name of the settlement is Shkede; it was about seven kilometers from the military camp. Only when I was imprisoned, did I understand that my Daddy had not been put in the camp, he had just been shot. It was a shock, a very big one for me. I loved my father so much, and he loved me, too.

When I was living alone, two Jewish women took me in to live with them. Another action was organized in February 1942 and they came at once. I had a special document about my working for the Wehrmacht [German Armed Forces] in the kitchen at the military town. There were neither SS nor SD units in the military camp. The German soldiers were afraid of such units themselves. [Editor’s note: SD is short for ‘Sicherheitsdienst’ (Security Service), the intelligence agency of the SS.]

We did different kinds of work. I carried things, cleaned, washed windows. I mended socks for soldiers, trying to remember what my mother used to do and repeating her actions. I was a free workforce for them. They had to pay Latvians for work but they didn’t pay me. They gave me cigarettes, bread and bacon. I exchanged them later for different products.

The Arajs 3 and Cukurs 4 commandos of Latvian volunteers came for us in February 1942, with armbands around their sleeves [to signify death]. They came with punishment gangs from Riga to Liepaja. And they wrought havoc! On 1st June 1942, when everybody had already been annihilated, and there were only 800 of us left from the ten or eleven thousand Jews in Liepaja, they made a ghetto: Barenu Street, Kungu Street, Darzu Street and there was barbed wire all around it. We went into it. These houses had belonged to a Jew named Lucin before. They [the Lucins] were deported on 14th June 1941 5 6; they weren’t in the ghetto. Latvians and Germans guarded us. The commandant was a German. We were led to work in columns.

The ghetto was liquidated in 1943, in October. We were herded into rail freight-cars and sent to Riga, to Kaiserwald 7. It was a very large concentration camp. Jews were in there, and Poles and Germans also. But these Germans were criminals. Later we were sent to work at the Electro-mechanical factory; it is better known as VEF. We lived next to the factory. The weather was terrible – frost, rain, cold. We starved everywhere we went. But Germans lived at the factory, where it was warm and clean.

In September 1944 we were loaded onto a large steamship and were taken up to Danzig [today Poland], and then on barges we were taken to the death camp of Stutthof 8. I begged God all the time not for freedom, but just to be moved to another camp. SS men used to wander around during the day, writing down people’s numbers and in the evenings, around nine o’clock, they called out the people by numbers and we never saw them again. The crematorium was working day and night.

On 25th January 1945, the Russians 9 liberated us. They wanted to shoot us at first. But there was one woman from Daugavpils with us, and she spoke Russian to the soldiers: ‘We are from a concentration camp! We are Jews!’ We lived in their division for three weeks. It was cold and uncomfortable. A young soldier said to me, and I understood: ‘Will you eat?’ I was hungry enough to die. And he brought each of us a loaf of bread and a pot roast. We hadn’t eaten for so long! I devoured the offered food. The elder women were cleverer than I was – they ate slowly. And at night, it hurt so much I thought I would die! The surgeon came, of course, and I was given lots to drink, and was brought back to life!

Life after liberation

Then we went to Lublin [today Poland]. There was a Jewish community there. At Pesach we baked matzah to earn money for food. And on 27th April 1945 I arrived back in Riga, though there was still war raging in Liepaja 10. My heart pulled me home. Perhaps, if Englishmen had liberated me, like my second cousin Lea, I would have left for Palestine. Russians liberated me and I went home. I knew that I would go to VEF [Valst Elektrotechniska Fabrika, aka Riga VEF Radio Works] to work. I was without documents, but I told the personnel manager of VEF who I was and he accepted me for work. I went to live in a hostel. I didn’t get a passport, but I got a paper for three months, then for a year. When I was called to the NKVD 11, they stared at me. They asked, ‘Why have you remained alive?’ 12

I knew that I would work at VEF. I didn’t plan to return to Liepaja. Who was I going to look for there? There was that man in the plant’s personnel department, he seemed to have suffered a lot from the Germans as well, so I told him who I was, and he gave me an order for a place at a hostel. They refused to issue a passport to me, but preferred to prolong the temporary identification every three months. A few times I was summoned to security bodies and asked, ‘Why did you survive?’

I got married in 1948. My husband and I were very poor, but we loved each other very much. We had problems with accommodation. At first I lived with my husband Serapion [Bogdanov] – I called him Sergey – at his mother’s place. It was an old house, during the war there was a ghetto there 13 14. A large room, a large kitchen. My husband and I lived in the kitchen, we had screened off a corner, and his brother with his wife and children lived in the large room. My husband was the youngest in the family. Later we lived in rented apartments. We rented one in a private house on the very bank of the river Daugava. The landlady used to breed chickens there once.

I got married at the age of 22, and by the time we moved I turned 30, and I had to think of a baby. And so in 1957 Rita was born. Аnd in 1961 we were given this apartment by VEF. We had a boat, we used to travel down the Daugava and have picnics. We enjoyed our life!

After the war I couldn’t study anymore and I didn’t want to either. I had to earn money for bread. I was young. I wanted to enjoy myself, to dance. What happened to me later is a different story. I started to work at the big VEF factory. I worked on the large telephony equipment for 40 years and in one brigade for 29 years! And my husband also worked at VEF. My husband was from Rezekne [242 km east of Riga, in Latgale province], a Russian from an Old Believers 15 family. I have lived a wonderful life with my husband. We always celebrated all the holidays – Jewish and Orthodox Christian. If there hadn’t been a war, everything would have been different! I probably wouldn’t have married a Russian.

My husband and daughter

My husband was born on 19th July 1928, near Rezekne. When he was only one year old, the whole family moved over to Riga, but their father died two years after that. His mother was left with five kids. My husband was very handsome. I sort of taught him how to behave, remembering how my Mom treated Dad. I remember how Dad had given Mom a golden ring with a diamond on the 10th anniversary of their marriage. Sergey used to always bring me a huge bunch of roses on the 28th of August, the day of our wedding, wherever I was – in the sanatorium near Riga or somewhere else. He liked my hair, it really was beautiful, wavy. When Sergey worked in the second shift and I – in the first, I would often visit a beauty parlour. And he asked me not to go to bed before he came home – he wanted to see my coiffure.

I buried him not in the Old Believers’ cemetery, but in the municipal one, because he didn’t go to the confessor. They sang ‘Ave Maria’ and ‘Shine, my star, shine’ in the chapel. In spite of having lived without him for these last twenty years, I still miss him so much!

My daughter Rita, born in 1957, graduated from the Latvian University, from the Department of German Philology. She works in the State Historical Archives. When she received her passport, my daughter wanted to be noted as Jewish 16, but I talked her out of it. It was difficult for the Jews in the Soviet times 17.

Rita is my joy, my happiness. She was brought up by Sergey’s mother, because I worked. Sergey and I talked Latvian between ourselves, for I didn’t know Russian. But I learned Russian later. I speak only Russian with my Ritulya. I was somehow unable to talk German to her, the language spoken to me by my mom. Sergey loved Rita very much. As much as my father loved me. They liked each other a lot. He was very proud of her and of the fact, that she was the first of the Bogdanov family to obtain higher education. When Sergey died, I was worrying about her health.

Glossary:

1 Ulmanis, Karlis (1877-1942)

the most prominent politician in pre-World War II Latvia. Educated in Switzerland, Germany and the USA, Ulmanis was one of founders of Latvian People's Council (Tautas Padome), which proclaimed Latvia's independence on November 18, 1918. He then became the first prime minister of Latvia and held this post in several governments from 1918 to 1940. In 1934, Ulmanis dissolved the parliament and established an authoritarian government. He allowed President Alberts Kviesis to serve the rest of the term until 1936, after which Ulmanis proclaimed himself president, in addition to being prime minister. In his various terms of office he worked to resist internal dissension - instituting authoritarian rule in 1934 - and military threats from Russia. Soviet occupation forced his resignation in 1940, and he was arrested and deported to Russia, where he died. Ulmanis remains a controversial figure in Latvia. A sign of Ulmanis still being very popular in Latvia is that his grand-nephew Guntis Ulmanis was elected president in 1993.

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 Arajs, Viktors (1910-1988)

major in the Latvian security section and was promoted to SS-Sturmbannführer. He was awarded the German medal ‘Kriegsverdienstkreuz mit Schwertern’ -- war service cross with swords. One must say he ‘earned’ it. In the first days of July he formed a group, known as the Arajs Commando, that roamed from city to city brutally settling accounts with Jews. When the German administration organized the extermination of Jews ‘in an orderly fashion’ (in geordneten Bahnen), Arajs made sure that his men were not left without work in the new arrangement. He personally shot Jews in the streets of the Riga ghetto and in the Rumbula forest. After the war he hid in Germany under an assumed name but was found out and sentenced to life imprisonment at a trial in Hamburg.
4 Cukurs, Herberts (1900-1965): in 1919 was a Bolshevik sympathizer. In independent Latvia he became famous as a pilot; between 1924 and 1936 he designed and constructed a glider and three airplanes. In 1933-1934 he flew from Riga to Gambia and back in one of his own planes, the C-3 (Gambia in West Africa, had been a colony of the Duke of Kurland in the seventeenth century). Two years later he flew from Riga to Tokyo. He also visited Palestine, and his reports of the visit were colored with strong anti-Semitism. As soon as the German army entered Riga, Cukurs joined those who were shooting Jews. At the end of 1941, he personally participated in the shooting in Riga’s ghetto and Rumbula, killing infants and dancing with joy by the graves. After the war Cukurs found refuge in Brazil, running a boat and plane rental service on the Rio de Janeiro beach, and later owned a banana plantation. On 24th  February 1965, he was killed in Uruguay’s capital Montevideo by members of a secret group called “Those who do not forget.” It is said that they were Israeli Mossad agents.

5 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 three days. Also, the Soviet leadership assured Latvia that this 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 5 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. 

6 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 under the pretext of ‘grossly dodged from labor activity in the agricultural field and led anti-social and parasitic mode of life’ 52,541 people from Latvia, 118,599 people from Lithuania and 32,450 people from Estonia were deported. 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 to reject 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 camps.

7 Kaiserwald concentration camp

Kaiserwald was the 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 ‘Aussenlager’ (subcamps); 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 Stutthof 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 Stutthof 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.

8 Stutthof (Pol

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

9 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 Committee 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 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).

10 Courland Pocket

In 1944 some 200,000 German soldiers at the Eastern Front were trapped in the Courland Pocket by the Red Army of the Soviet Union. They were besieged with their backs to the Baltic Sea until the end of World War II in Europe in May 1945. At the start of Operation Barbarossa in 1941, Courland, along with the rest of the Baltic eastern coast, was overrun by Army Group North headed by Field Marshal Wilhelm Ritter von Leeb. In 1944, the Red Army lifted the siege of Leningrad and in Operation Bagration re-conquered the Baltic area along with much of Ukraine and Belarus. Towards the end of Operation Bagration, on Tuesday 10th October 1944 the Red Army reached the Baltic near Memel and cut off Army Group North (26 divisions, some 200,000 men) for the rest of the war in the Courland Pocket. In the Courland Pocket six big battles happened from 15th October 1944 until 4th April 1945. Colonel-General Heinz Guderian, the Chief of the German General Staff, insisted to Adolf Hitler that the troops in Courland should be evacuated by sea and used for the defense of the Third Reich. However, Hitler refused and ordered the German forces in Courland to hold out. He believed them necessary to protect German submarine bases along the Baltic coast. The Soviet forces lost approximately 390 thousand dead, wounded or captured, 2700 tanks, 720 aircrafts, 1120 artillery items and more than 1500 small arms. On 15th January 1945, Army Group North was renamed Army Group Courland (Heeresgruppe Kurland) under Colonel-General Dr. Lothar Rendulic. Until the end of the war, Army Group Courland (including divisions such as the Latvian Freiwilligen SS Legion) successfully defended the Latvian peninsula. It held out until 9th May 1945, when it surrendered under Colonel-General Carl Hilpert, the army group's last commander. He surrendered to Marshal Leonid Govorov, the commander of opposing Soviet forces on the Courland perimeter. At this time the group still consisted of some 31 divisions of varying strength. After 9th May1945 approximately 203,000 troops of Army Group Courland began moving to Soviet prison camps in the East. The majority of them never returned to Germany. (Wikipedia)

11 NKVD

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

12 SMERSH

Russian abbreviation for ‘Smert Shpionam’ meaning Death to Spies. It was a counterintelligence department in the Soviet Union formed during World War II, to secure the rear of the active Red Army, on the front to arrest ‘traitors, deserters, spies, and criminal elements’. The full name of the entity was USSR People’s Commissariat of Defense Chief Counterintelligence Directorate ‘SMERSH’. This name for the counterintelligence division of the Red Army was introduced on 19th April 1943, and worked as a separate entity until 1946. It was headed by Viktor Abakumov. At the same time a SMERSH directorate within the People’s Commissariat of the Soviet Navy and a SMERSH department of the NKVD were created. The main opponent of SMERSH in its counterintelligence activity was Abwehr, the German military foreign information and counterintelligence department. SMERSH activities also included ‘filtering’ the soldiers recovered from captivity and the population of the gained territories. It was also used to punish within the NKVD itself; allowed to investigate, arrest and torture, force to sign fake confessions, put on a show trial, and either send to the camps or shoot people. SMERSH would also often be sent out to find and kill defectors, double agents, etc.; also used to maintain military discipline in the Red Army by means of barrier forces, that were supposed to shoot down the Soviet troops in the cases of retreat. SMERSH was also used to hunt down ‘enemies of the people’ outside Soviet territory.

13 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 Rumbuli forest. On 31st October 15 000 inmates were shot, 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.

14 Moscowskiy forstadt

during the rule of Catherine I in the 1720s Jews were forbidden to reside in Latvia, and they were chased away from the country. During the rule of Catherine II this decree was cancelled in part. Visitors were to stay in a Jewish inn in the vicinity of the town. Those Jews, who obtained residential permits were allowed to live in Moscowskiy forstadt in the vicinity of Riga. In 1771 the first Jewish prayer house was opened there. In 1813 residents of the Slock town (present-day Sloka, vicinity of Yurmala town) were allowed to reside in the Moscowskiy forstadt. Jews actively populated this neighborhood in the suburb. Even when Latvia became independent in 1918, and the Pale of Settlement was eliminated, poor Jewish people moved to Moscowskiy forstadt, where prices were lower, and there were synagogues and prayer houses, Jewish schools and cheder schools, and Jewish life was easier. Moscowskiy forstadt was a Jewish neighborhood before June 1941. During the German occupation a Jewish ghetto was established in Moscowskiy forstadt.

15 Old Believers

As their name suggests, all of them rejected the reformed service books, which Patriarch Nikon introduced in the 1650s and preserved pre-Nikonian liturgical practices in as complete a form as canonical regulations permitted. For some Old Believers, the defense of the old liturgy and traditional culture was a matter of primary importance; for all, the old ritual was at least a badge of identification and a unifying slogan. The Old Believers were united in their hostility towards the Russian state, which supported the Nikonian reforms and persecuted those who, under the banner of the old faith, opposed the new order in the church and the secular administration. To be sure, the intensity of their hostility and the language and gestures with which they expressed it varied as widely as their social background and their devotional practices. Nevertheless, when the government applied pressure to one section of the movement, all of its adherents instinctively drew together and extended to their beleaguered brethren whatever help they could.

16 Item 5

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

17 Anti-Semitism in the Soviet Union

As Israel was emerging as a close Western ally and thus an enemy of the USSR, the specter of Zionism raised fears of internal dissent and opposition. During the later parts of the Cold War Soviet Jews were persecuted as possible traitors, Western sympathizers, or a security liability. The Communist leadership closed down various Jewish organizations and declared Zionism an ideological enemy. The only exceptions were a few token synagogues. These synagogues were then placed under police surveillance, both openly and through the use of informers. As a result of the persecution, both state-sponsored and unofficial anti-Semitism became deeply ingrained in the society and remained a fact for years: ordinary Soviet Jews often suffered hardships, epitomized by often not being allowed to enlist in universities or hired to work in certain professions. Many were barred from participation in the government, and had to bear being openly humiliated. Soviet media usually avoided using the word "Jew," and many felt compelled to hide their identities by changing their names. The word "Jew" was also avoided in the media when criticizing undertakings by Israel, which the Soviets often accused of racism, chauvinism etc. Instead of Jew, the word Israeli was used almost exclusively, so as to paint its harsh criticism not as anti-Semitism but anti-Zionism. More controversially, the Soviet media, when depicting political events, sometimes used the term 'fascism' to characterize Israeli nationalism (e.g. calling Jabotinsky a 'fascist', and claiming 'new fascist organizations were emerging in Israel in 1970s etc).

Anatoli Kraemer

Anatoli Kraemer
Tallinn
Estonia
Interviewer: Ella Levitskaya
Date of the interview: March 2006

I met Anatoli Kraemer at his place. He and his wife Mayli live in a new district of Tallinn, in a nine-storied house constructed in the 1970s. Their apartment is spacious and cozy. Anatoli’s large portrait, made when he was a child, is one of the highlights. Anatoli looks younger than his age. He is not very tall, athletic and brisk. Despite feeling unwell and having difficulties to speak, Anatoli willingly told his story accompanying it with jokes. His wife Mayli is a tall lady. She is very calm and affable. It looks like they love each other very much and have a perfect understanding.

My family

My childhood

During the war

After the war

After the fall of communism

Glossary

My family

My maternal grandfather, Abram Pasternak, was from Latvia. Apparently, his wife, my grandmother Vera, was also born there. I do not know anything about my grandparents’ life before their arrival in Estonia. I think my grandmother came from a very poor family. Even back in that time, the girls from well-off families were given some education, but Grandmother Vera was totally illiterate, she even could not sign for herself. The only relative from grandmother’s side I knew was her brother, who lived in Riga. I cannot recall his name. I remember that Grandmother told me about him. He was a very wealthy man, the owner of a company. I do not think it was inherited from his parents.

During the tsarist time Latvia and Estonia were part of Russia, which had a pale of settlement 1. In Latvia Jews were not permitted to live in Riga and other big cities. There was supposed to be a special permit to live outside the pale of settlement. Within the pale, Jews were entitled to settle wherever they wished and do for a living what they wanted. There were two restrictions for the Jews in Estonia – they had no right to be in the government and be officers in the army. Other than that they were free. There was no anti-Semitism in Estonia, no Jewish pogroms, which were rather frequent in the Russian empire. I think that was the reason for Grandfather’s decision to move to Estonia. My grandparents settled in Tartu. It was the second largest city in Estonia, an old university city. There was a large Jewish community in Tartu. There was a very beautiful choral synagogue 2.

Grandfather worked hard and became rich. He owned a ready-made garment store, located in the center of Tartu at Alexandera Street. He also owned several houses. One of them was in the center of Tartu, where the whole family lived, and he also had a house in the resort area Elva, not far from Tartu. Grandmother was a housewife. She raised the children and did a lot about the house.

My grandparents had four children. All of them were born in Tartu. Mother’s elder brother was Rolli. The second child was her sister Rebecca. My mother Paulina was born in 1895. Her younger brother David was two or three years younger than she.

Grandfather took the education of his children serious. There was the famous Russian Pushkinskaya 3 lyceum in Tartu. All their children finished it and then entered Tartu University. There was no admission quota for Jews in Estonia 4, which existed in Russia at that time. Jews were admitted to the university along with students of other nationalities. There was even a Jewish aid fund for students. Rich Jews made contributions to the fund, out of which the tuition was paid for gifted poor Jews. Of course, Grandfather could afford the tuition for his children.

I do not remember which faculty Mother’s elder brother Rolli graduated from. Mother and her sister Rebecca studied at the dentistry department and David at the medical one, but my mother did not finish her studies. I do not know how she met my father, Samuel Kraemer. They married when she was in the third year at the university. She quit her studies, after she got married.

Aunt Rebecca and Uncle David graduated from the university. Rebecca became a dentist and David a physician. Though, Rebecca did not work after graduation. When she studied at the university, she met a Jew called Semyon Kremer and married him upon graduation. Semyon was a gynecologist. Rebecca gave birth to two children. Her elder son Alexander was born in 1921 and three years older than me, and her daughter Margalit was born in 1931.

David married Ester, a lady from Tartu. I do not remember her maiden name. Ester was a true beauty. In summer all of us went on vacation to Narva Joesuu, a very popular recreation place. There were all kinds of amusements for the tourists. Every year there was the Narva Joesuu beauty contest called ‘The Queen of Narva Joesuu.’ Ester was chosen the beauty queen. David and Ester had two daughters, Aviva and Ilana. Both of them were much younger than me.

The eldest child of my maternal grandparents was my mother’s brother Rolli, who perished during World War I. He was drafted into the army and killed in action. Rolli remained single.

I cannot tell you much about my father. All I know is that he was born in 1884, but I do not know exactly where. He probably was not from Tartu as someone would have known something about his family in that case. I do not know how he happened to be in Tartu. Mother mentioned that they had a true Jewish wedding: Grandfather made all the arrangements in accordance with the Jewish traditions.

Our family lived in my grandfather’s house. It was a large, two-storied house. There were huge rooms, looking like parlors with columns. The first floor was occupied by my uncle David and his wife Ester. There were also a large kitchen and a dining-room, where the whole family had meals. There were three apartments on the second floor. My grandparents lived in one of them, my mother’s sister Rebecca with her husband Semyon and children lived in the second one, and our family lived in the third one.

My childhood

I was born on 24th April 1924. I was called Anatoli. For some reason I did not have a Jewish name. My father did not live with us for a long time. He was not a bad man, but he had a great flaw, which was not characteristic of Jews, he was a drunkard. It also spoke for the fact that he was not a local as people would have known about it and Grandfather would have never let my mother marry him. Before getting married my father concealed his habit from my mother and her relatives, but shortly after that he took to the bottle. I was a year and a half, when Mother divorced him. Father moved to Tallinn after the divorce. We never spoke about him at home; my mother even destroyed his pictures. One little picture was kept by chance, and I still have it.

After my parents’ divorce, I saw my father only several times. I remember, once he came to us looking very weak after a drinking bout. He asked Grandfather for money. Grandfather did not give him anything and Father asked me to help him. He must have thought that I would ask Grandpa, but I did not do that. I loved tinned soldiers. I had a great many of them. They cost a lot of money and my kin always gave them to me on special occasions, like birthdays etc. I was sorry for my father as he looked so miserable. Thus, I gave him my soldiers so that he could sell them and have money. It was the last but one meeting. The last time I saw my father was in July 1941, when he was going to the war. I will talk about it later.

Grandfather was a very religious man. Jewish traditions were kept. We lived together and had meals together not only on holidays, but on other days as well. We marked Jewish holidays. On Saturdays all men – Grandfather, Uncle David and Rebecca’s husband Semyon – always went to the synagogue. On major Jewish holidays all Jews went to the synagogue – men, women, children. We marked all holidays at home. Of course, I do not remember much, as it was so long ago and there were so many events.

On Purim my grandmother always baked tasty triangular pies with poppy seeds, called hamantashen. On Yom Kippur adults always fasted for 24 hours according to the tradition. Small children were released from fasting. When I started going to lyceum, I was also supposed to fast. I was very active and agile, feeling hungry all the time. I managed to snitch some food in the kitchen, without anyone seeing it. Adults spent the whole day in the synagogue on Yom Kippur praying, until the first evening star appeared in the sky. My cousin Alexander and I went to the synagogue with the adults, but we could not stay there all day long, so we played football with other Jewish guys in the yard of the synagogue.

There was only kosher food at home. Grandmother had a Jewish cook, who fixed scrumptious Jewish dishes. There was a shochet not far from our house. We bought kosher meat from him and took living chickens to him that were to be cut in accordance with the kashrut rules. This is all I remember from that time.

Grandfather died in 1931, when I was six. I remember his death vividly. I was in the kitchen, when he came home for lunch. The cook put the food on the table for me and went to meet Grandfather. I heard him entering the hall and falling on the floor. He had a stroke. He had died before the doctor arrived.

Grandfather was buried in Jewish cemetery in Tartu. The funeral was in line with the Jewish rite. There were crowds of people. Grandfather was famous in the city. There were Jewish volunteer fire fighters in Tartu. All of them had other jobs, but when there was a fire somewhere, they got together, put on their uniforms and started putting out the fire. When Grandfather was young, he was also a member of that team. When he physically could not participate in putting out a fire any longer, he provided considerable monetary assistance to the team. He was an honorary member of the fire team of the city. All Tartu fire fighters came to his funeral. There was a large monument on my grandfather’s grave in the Jewish cemetery in Tartu. Unfortunately, the Tartu Jewish cemetery was destroyed during World War II. There is nothing left of it.

I entered the Estonian lyceum in 1932. It was a famous lyceum in Estonia named after its founder Hugo Treffner. During the Soviet regime the lyceum was turned into an ordinary compulsory school, but it was restored in 1991 when Estonia became independent 5. Now it is considered to be one of the best lyceums in Estonia. There were quite a few Jewish children there. Jews have always been positively treated in Estonia. We never felt anti-Semitism. There were classes in the lyceum on Jewish holidays, but Jewish students were exempt from them.

When I was a lyceum student, I joined the children’s Zionist organization Betar 6. Most of my friends were enrolled there. At that time we were not interested in the political aspect of the organization, we just enjoyed being there. We played all kind of games, went in for sport. We had meetings, where we were told about the history of Israel, life of the modern Palestine. I was very energetic, liked bossing around and soon I became the group leader of Betar.

In 1937 my mother married a German Jew called Mark Schynzvit. They had known each other for several years before getting married. Once my mother went on a trip to Germany and France. At that time the fascists were already at power in Germany 7, but tourists were still safe there. Mother met Mark during one of the excursions in Germany. He was a widower, six years older than my mother. Mark had his own company. They liked each other and wrote to each other for a while after she returned to Estonia.

At that time they did not think about whether Mark would move to Estonia or Mother would go to Germany. Then it became clear, Jews would not be safe with the fascists being at power in Germany, so Mark moved to Tartu. By that time the fascists had seized his enterprise, he only managed to take some money with him. At least he could feel safer here.

Mother and Mark got married in Tartu. They had a traditional Jewish wedding, but a rather modest one. Mark could not get Estonian citizenship immediately, but the Estonian government gave him temporary passport, issued for fugitives. He could not be in the government, but other than that he had equal rights with Estonian citizens. With time that passport was changed to Estonian passport.

During the war

We had a pretty comfortable living before 1940. My cousin Alexander, with whom we were friends, graduated from lyceum and entered the Law Department of Tartu University. I was still studying at the lyceum. In 1939 Hitler attacked Poland 8. Polish fugitives appeared in Estonia. We were not thinking of the threat, as the war seemed to be far away from Estonia, and reckoned that the Germans would not come to us. In actuality, the war was over soon. The Soviet Union commissioned troops in Poland and the German army was defeated, and Germany signed a non-aggression treaty with the Soviet Union, the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact 9.

Shortly after that Soviet military bases were constructed in Estonia and it did not cause any concern. At that time people did not worry as they hoped that Estonia would be safe thanks to Soviet military bases. Moreover, the first fascist organizations appeared in Estonia. Some people, who had fought for the independence of Estonia 10 in 1918, became its members. Other fighters for independence, including the president, Konstantin Päts, were against fascism. [Päts, Konstantin (1874-1956): The most influential politician of interwar Estonia, Päts headed the Estonian Provisional Government (1918–1919), although being imprisoned during the German Occupation. In the Provisional Government, he also served as Minister of Internal Affairs (1918) and Minister of War (1918–1919), that left him organizing Estonian troops for the War of Independence. In 1938 he became the first President of Estonia. During his presidency, the Soviet Union occupied Estonia in 1940. As President, he was forced to sign decrees for over a month, until he was finally arrested and deported to Russia, where he died in 1956. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Konstantin_P%C3%A4ts]

At that time the Soviet Union took advantage of the disparity in Estonia and managed to annex it [cf. Estonia in 1939-1940] 11. When Estonia became a Soviet republic, they violently dismissed the government. There was upheaval for our president Päts, and appointment of a new government. Repressions and nationalization began. Three days after the new government was appointed, the Soviet regime took our house. Some militaries moved there and our entire family was turned out into the street with our things. They took the houses, stores, and everything else and nationalized them.

Probably, the adults understood that it was only the beginning and they decided to leave Tartu, where everybody knew that our family was rich. Aunt Rebecca, her family and Grandmother left for Haapsalu and my mother with Mark and Uncle David with his wife and daughters went to Tallinn. We hoped we could stay there quietly and wait for better times: My cousin Alexander, who was a freshman at Tartu University, and I, a lyceum student, stayed in Tartu. We lived in a rented apartment, and the hostess was supposed to provide meals for us as well.

I accepted the new regime easily. I was about 15-16 years old – an age when it is easier to get used to new things. Of course, during the Soviet regime Jewish youth organizations were banned. The new regime founded a youth organization in Tartu, called ‘Union of Young Workers,’ which was actually the Soviet Komsomol 12. My friends joined the organization and talked me into it too.

I was young and energetic. I had good organizational skills and experience in Betar. It was the time when the pioneer organization 13 was founded in Estonia, and I was one of its organizers, the pioneer leader. At that time I did not think of helping the new regime. I just enjoyed what I was doing. We organized military and sports games like it was in Betar. I was very active. In summer 1941 the first pioneer camp in Estonia was established in Oru, Toila province, not far from Narva. There was an estate of President Päts. I was sent there as a pioneer leader.

In 1939 when the war was unleashed in Poland, I understood the atrocity of fascism. I was involved in anti-fascist propaganda in the camp. I held pioneer meetings, where I talked about the horrors of fascism. On the roofs of the camp houses, we drew caricatures of Hitler and wrote anti-fascist slogans. I found out about the outbreak of the war, when I was in the camp. Germany had attacked the Soviet Union [cf. Great Patriotic War] 14.

Mother was in Tallinn at that time. She was by herself as her husband, Mark Schynzvit, was deported on 14th June 1941 15. At that time deportation was taking place all over Estonia. Mark had nothing to do with politics, but he did not have an Estonian passport and was considered to be a citizen of Germany. He was sent to the Gulag 16 for allegedly being a German spy.

I was all Mother had and she knew nothing about me. She sent a telegram to the camp for me to go to Tallinn as soon as possible for us to leave for evacuation, but I could not do it swiftly. The Germans had not reached Estonia yet, but Estonian fascists started acting. They seized the railway station in Kivioli and blocked the trains. There was no other way to get to Tallinn. I was trying hard to get there, but could not leave because the trains did not go. I was not going to be in evacuation.

I wanted to be a volunteer in the Red Army. I had to wait for two years before the call-up, but I was not willing to wait, I wanted to defend my motherland. Finally, Soviet troops got Kivioli station back and I managed to leave for Tallinn. On the way there we passed by a train in which my mother and David’s wife with her daughters were heading for evacuation. Their train was at the substation and ours was passing by. I saw my kin through the window.

I did not have anybody to see in Tallinn. When we arrived, I found out that my uncle David was still in Tallinn. He was drafted into the army as a military doctor and he was waiting to go to the front. When we met he gave me his Swiss Omega watch. I started thinking where to go to be drafted into the army. I went to the municipal Komsomol committee and there I was given the paper for the military registration and enlistment office. There I was given a Russian rifle, the type used in 1898, and two grenades. I did not know what to do with the weapon.

We had military classes at the lyceum, taught by a lieutenant of the Estonian army. It was the time when the Germans were approaching Tallinn, and there was a working battalion to fight them. As soon as I got the weapon, I went outside and suddenly saw the working battalion marching with the orchestra. There was my military teacher from school among them. He also noticed me and cried out, ‘Join us!’ That’s what I did and headed to the front. Here I also saw my father, who took notice of me as well. He dashed up to me and gave me some chocolate. We hugged each other and continued on our way.

We had walked for about 20 kilometers from Tallinn and reached the place where we were supposed to have a battle. We did not have equal forces. In our battalion almost everybody was armed the way I was – an old rifle and two grenades – while the Germans had guns, mortars etc. A lot of our fighters were wounded and killed in action right away.

At that time I did not take death seriously. I could not even picture my death. It was most likely that I and my coevals looked at it as if it was a military game. My friend suggested walking closer to German positions and take a couple of mortars. We ran to the Germans and they started shooting at us. I got injured by the fragment of a mine and as a result of the explosion I was thrown into the bushes.

Then Germans came up to me and said, ‘This Bolshevik 17 is dead.’ They took my watch, my uncle’s present, and left me in the bushes. When they left, I started crawling to our people. There was a sanitary battalion with our wounded in the nearby forest. Then buses came from Tallinn and took the wounded to the hospital in Tallinn, which was set up in a former school. Later my daughters went to that school. They cleaned my wound, applied a bandage and left me in the ward. I stayed there before the Germans arrived in Tallinn at night. Nurses in the hospital calmed down the wounded and said that the Germans would do no harm since it was provided by the international convention that wounded people could not be hurt. I did not believe in that. Besides, I understood that I, a Jew, would be murdered by Germans at once, whether I was wounded or not. My Jewish friend and I started thinking of how to escape the Germans.

The next morning all of us were taken to the harbor. There were several ships and people were getting on them very quickly. We boarded a large Latvian ship, which was in Tallinn port. I saw that Tallinn was on fire. The wounded were put in the hold and the ship headed towards Leningrad. The harbor was mined. When the ship was in the sea, it was shot at from both coasts – the Estonian and the Finnish one. Besides, the Germans bombed from planes. Several ships were sunk; the bomb hit our ship as well. The hold with the wounded was flooded. It was impossible to go up as there was a fire. People understood that it was the end. Some people even hung themselves on the ties, straps etc. to wait for the torturing death.

I had no illusions as I understood that death was inevitable, but I was scared to die in the cold hold. I somehow managed to climb on the top and hid on the deck. When a new portion of bombs hit the ship, I jumped into the water. I was lucky to find a floating piece of wood in the water and I climbed on it. Cadavers were all around me. The water was very cold. First the feeling of cold was very acute, then I got used to it. I stayed there for three hours. Finally the bombing stopped and I was noticed by people in a passing ship. They lowered the lifeboat, helped me get in it and took me on the ship.

In the end, I reached Leningrad, where I was sent to hospital right away. I did not know a single word of Russian. I could not understand anything. My stay in the hospital was not long as I was not severely wounded. I even did not catch a cold after having been in cold water for three hours. When I was discharged from the hospital, I went to the military barracks, where Estonian soldiers were living. At that time Stalin issued the order not to let people from Baltic countries and Germans go to the front. [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.] We stayed in the barracks and waited for the unknown.

Then the Germans started attacking Leningrad. It was a terrible day when German airplanes started bombing grocery warehouses. There was flour, sugar etc, and all of that was set on fire. We ran into the burning warehouses trying to save what we could. It was the only food we could get. Finally, there was another order: to dismiss from the army all people who had not reached the draft age. The rest should be sent to labor camps 18. I and a couple of other volunteers were demobilized and sent to the evacuation point across Lake Ladoga19. We were starving on our way. There was no food. After that we went to the train station, which was on the front line. Everything was on fire and the last trains were dispatched from Leningrad, which was besieged 20.

My friend from Tartu and I took the train heading to Siberia. We reached Sverdlovsk, wherefrom we went to Chelyabinsk. We went to the platform and saw Estonian ladies. They came up to us and we asked if there were some more people evacuated from Estonia. Without any hope, I asked whether they happened to know Paulina Schynzvit, my mother. It turned out that those ladies were living in the settlement Nizhnyaya Uvelka, not far from Krasnoyarsk [Russia, about 3000 km from Moscow] were Estonians were evacuated. So my mother and aunt Ester were living there. Those ladies accompanied me to Nizhnyaya Uvelka and took me to my mother’s home.

I was shocked by what I saw in the village. None of the Estonian villages was so poor and filthy. There were even some clay houses. I was told that I would recognize my mother’s house right away as it was the only place in the village with curtains. Mother was at home, when I came. She saw me and swooned. Somebody told her that I was in Tallinn, when the Germans came and perished there. Aunt Ester and her daughters lived with my mother. Shortly before I arrived, my mother’s brother David, who was demobilized from the army, also came. I stayed with my mother in Nizhnyaya Uvelka.

There was a Russian school, but taking into account the many evacuated Estonians, who did not speak Russian, an Estonian school was also set up in an annex to the Russian school building. There were a lot of Estonian teachers. Several classes were held in one room, but still they managed to teach us. I finished the eleventh grade in Tartu and had to finish the twelfth one. There were twelve grades in Estonia, while there were ten grades in the Soviet Union. So, I was enrolled in the tenth grade so that in a year I could have my school certificate. Of course, both students and teachers treated me specially. In their eyes, I was a hero, having been wounded in the lines.

I was going to finish school to be drafted in the army when reaching draft age. When I found out about the Estonian corps 21 being formed in Ural, I went to the military enlistment office with the request to join the lines as a volunteer. I was 17 and the draft age was 18. They closely reviewed my case in the military enlistment office and I was assigned to the Estonian corps. Uncle David was also sent there. Of course, I did not tell my mother about my decision. She found out about it shortly before my departure. Of course, she was horrified. Once she had to be in the state of abeyance and she was put through that once again.

Uncle David and I went to the place of formation of the Estonian corps. I started my military life. My uncle was killed in action. He was a doctor and he was trying to make it so that our Estonian corps soldiers got a better ration and living condition. Our commanders were perturbed by that. To boot, they found out that my uncle was from a rich family, i.e., an alien element, an enemy of the people 22. That is why he was sent to the penal battalion, which was the worst punishment. A common saying for it was ‘washing off the guilt with blood.’ If a person from the penal battalion was wounded in battle, he was to return to the ordinary union and nobody would be concerned with his past. It happened rarely. As a rule, people from the penal battalion were used as cannon fodder. They were the first in the fierce battles, being the targets for the guns. There were very few of them who survived. Thus, Uncle David perished. His squad was the first to go to the German positions when our troops were to attack. Uncle David was killed in that battle.

Our Estonian corps was supposed to be sent to Stalingrad, where severe battles were being held 23. We were most likely to die there, but we were not sent to Stalingrad, but to Velikiye Luki. The town was captured by Germans, and the Soviet army encircled it. The winter was frosty and we had to walk 100 kilometers. At last, we got there. The battle for Velikiye Luki started. [The Velikiye Luki offensive operation was executed by the forces of the Red Army's Kalinin Front against the Wehrmacht's 3rd Panzer Army during the Winter Campaign of 1942-1943 with the objective of liberating the Russian city of Velikiye Luki. It is particularly notable as an example of the failure of German operational combat in relieving an encirclement, similar to those employed at the Battle of Stalingrad. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_for_Velikiye_Luki]

Our corps was in the lines. We were supposed to hold the part of the position, where there were no Soviet troops for the Germans not to be able to break through to the town. There were fierce battles. There were a lot of casualties on both sides. Finally, we ousted the fascists from the town, but there was a small group of Germans left. The commander of Velikiye Luki, also the commander of the garrison, was a German baron, who had lived in Estonia until 1939, and then as per request of Hitler went to Germany. When our troops took the town, the baron hid in an air-raid shelter with a small group of Germans, which was constructed during the Soviet regime. We could not get them out of there. First, we flung gas pots there, then bombs, but it was futile.

We had to negotiate with them, but we did not have a translator, who was fluent in German. Somehow, General Lembit Pärn, the commander of the Estonian corps, got to know that I was fluent in German. I was called to the headquarters, they told me to wear white sheepskin and an officer’s sword belt, and sent me to conduct negotiations with the German baron. General Pärn spoke and I interpreted. He said if the Germans voluntarily gave themselves up, they would remain alive. Finally the deputy commander left the air-raid shelter. He was promised that nobody would be executed if leaving the shelter, so he returned there trying to convince his comrades to do that.

The negotiations lasted for a long time and finally the entire garrison came out. There were a lot of wounded among them. We looked for a German doctor. He was at the railway station, where German captives were held. General Pärn talked and I interpreted. The doctor said that both of his sons were killed in the vicinity of Moscow, his wife stayed in Berlin, and he did not even know whether she was alive. The general suggested that he should take care of the wounded, but the doctor said that we would help only civilians. I stayed in the headquarters for several days acting as a translator; then I headed farther.

We were sent to Leningrad. When besieged Leningrad was liberated, our Estonian corps was sent farther, in the direction of Estonia. At that time the Russian and Estonian border was not along Narva, but about 12 kilometers away from it. We crossed the border. I saw Estonian guys taking earth in their hands and kissing it. We were happy to take part in the liberation of Estonia.

Near Narva we had to hold a battle with the German militaries from the SS Estonian legion. That legion was founded by Germans in the spring of 1944. Young Estonian lads were enlisted in the German army. Many Estonians were against the Soviet regime and hoped that Germany’s victory would make Estonia independent, and free from Soviet oppressions. The Germans were spreading their propaganda among the soldiers of the Estonian legion, convincing them that they should not give away a single meter of Estonian land, as in the event of German retreat, the Soviet army would occupy Estonia.

Thus both belligerent parties put Estonians in the battle near Narva. There was the Estonian corps on our side, and the Germans had the Estonian legion. Estonians fought against Estonians. There were cases when the members of one family fought for different armies. There were 30,000 Estonians, clad in German uniforms. It was horrible, inhuman. We stood at one bank of the Narva, and they were at the opposite one. In the evening, during the intermission between the battles, one and the same Estonian songs were sung at both banks. There were cases when some Estonians swam from the opposite bank to join us.

We went on to liberate Estonia from the fascists. Our corps took part in the liberation of Tartu. Then we liberated Tallinn. Our tank column was the first to enter Tallinn. But my regiment passed by Tallinn and went to the island. There was the Klooga 24 camp on our way and it was the first time I saw what the fascists had done on our land. It was a terrible concentration camp. Not only Estonian Jews, but also Jews from all over Europe were executed there. Before our attack Germans murdered all Klooga prisoners. We came to the camp a couple of hours after the fascists had run away. The fires, where logs and human cadavers were put, were still burning. The Germans burnt some people alive. When we were in the camp, the blood of the shot people had not been absorbed by the earth yet. It was like water after rain, ankle-deep. It was horrible and I saw it with my own eyes.

We did not stay in Klooga as we were to head to the islands. There were fierce battles. The Germans stuck to the isle as they had a real chance to get to Finland by ships. By that time Finland was out of the play. Apart from the Estonian corps a Russian military unit was also taking part in the fierce battles. I was wounded at Sõrve Peninsula in the combat with the Germans and was sent to hospital in Tallinn aboard a Finnish ship.

When I was discharged from the hospital, our corps was sent to liberate Kurland 25. Our commanders were in a hurry to do away with the Germans there and to put an end to the war, but the Germans hung in there, fighting desperately for their other units to be able to get evacuated. We moved very slowly. The area was open without any place to hide. There were a lot of casualties and it was very scary as many soldiers from the Estonian corps managed to drop by in Tallinn and see their relatives. And still, some of them were to face death.

On 9th May 1945 26 we were supposed to attack German positions... I went through the entire war and was always sure that death would go past me. But before that battle, I had a feeling that I would not survive it. On the eve of the battle, I went to bed earlier in the dug-out. Suddenly I heard shots thinking that the battle was on. I ran out and saw our soldiers shooting from guns and pistols and crying out that the war was over. It was on the night of 8th May, the last shots of war. I hugged a tree and burst into tears as I was sure that I would have perished the following day. It was as if someone had granted me life.

The Estonian corps marched to Tallinn from Kurland, passing Riga. Anywhere we were walking the road was strewn with flowers. We were welcomed as the winners, rescuers. We covered a distance of 600 kilometers with the full kit and weapons. When we reached Tallinn, my legs were chafed and I could hardly walk. It was a serious distance. Mother, who had already come back from evacuation, could not wait for the Estonian corps to enter Tallinn; she went to meet me in Klooga. When we arrived in Tallinn, the streets were crowded. People gave us flowers, willing to give us hugs and handshakes. The flowers were coming from everywhere.

Now we, the fighters of the Estonian corps, are called the occupants, though at that time we were called liberators. Is it our fault that at the conference in Yalta 27, when discussing the borders of the new postwar Europe, neither Roosevelt, nor Churchill, nor Stalin thought of regaining independence of the three Baltic countries? Why did they agree on the Soviet Union’s further occupation of the Baltic countries? Maybe because the latter were not strong enough; much weaker than the Soviet Union. Soviet tanks were all over Europe, subduing Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Eastern Germany and other countries. Why aren’t they blaming Roosevelt and Churchill as it was the redistribution of the world and we could have become free. We, the soldiers, who did not spare their lives in the liberation of our country from fascists, are now blamed for the Soviet Union’s post-war occupation of Estonia lasting over 50 years – making a clear way for Soviet occupants. It is a terrible tragedy, but it is not our fault. The soldiers of the Estonian corps did their best to liberate our motherland.

After the war

My relatives who were in evacuation during the war returned to Tallinn. Aunt Ester with her daughters and Mother’s sister Rebecca and her family came back. During the war they were in evacuation in Ural, and Grandmother Vera was with them. Apart from Uncle David, my cousin Alexander did not come back. He was drafted into the army during the first days of the war. Then, when Estonians were demobilized from the army as per Stalin’s order, Alexander, along with many Estonian guys, was sent to a labor army in Siberia. Then many of those Estonians joined the Estonian Corps. Alexander died of typhus in the camp before the Estonian corps was established. Grandmother’s brother, who lived in Riga, perished in Riga ghetto 28.

My father had a dreadful fate. For some reason he was not willing to leave Tallinn. Many Jews decided to stay thinking that the Germans would do them no harm. But it was not the case. Hardly had the Germans entered Tallinn, all Jewish men were arrested and sent to Tallinn camps. They were interrogated and mutilated, then murdered. When Estonia became independent, the archives were opened and I was able to read the protocol of my father’s interrogation on 2nd August 1941 carried out by Evald Mixon, an Estonian. The sentence was also attached. The line ‘Charged with?’ says only one thing: Jew. Conclusion: sentenced to death. Before 6th October 1941 almost 1000 Jews were shot in Tallinn.

I was really willing to be demobilized from the army. They were reluctant to let me go, offering me to work as a translator in the headquarters of the Estonian corps, but a military career did not appeal to me and I was demobilized. I was 20, but had neither education, nor profession. All I had were military awards: an Order of the Red Star 29, a Medal for Valor 30, a Medal for Victory over Germany 31, an Order of the Great Patriotic War 32 of the 2nd class. Jews in the Estonian corps were awarded the same way as Estonians were, without any bias.

I went to the municipal Komsomol committee, and I was assigned a Komsomol instructor. [Editor’s note: Komsomol units existed at all educational and industrial enterprises. They were headed by Komsomol committees involved in organizational activities.] I was given a room in the hostel. There was a lot of work in Tallinn. The city was demolished by bombing. All the streets were in shambles. The Komsomol members cleaned them, preparing the sites for constructions of new houses. We worked 12 to 14 hours daily and coped with the work. Then Komsomol members started with the construction of the stadium. Everybody was involved.

When the construction was over, I was assigned to lead the propaganda section. There was a large truck that visited all parts of Estonia. We showed movies, held lectures. It was the first propaganda truck in the Soviet Union. Its work was highly appreciated in Moscow, where I was called to share my experience with others.

When the Doctors’ Plot 33 began, I was dismissed from work on that day. When the campaign against cosmopolitans 34 was over, the attitude towards Jews did not change in Estonia. There was another stage – deportations in 1948-49, but it had nothing to do with cosmopolitans. Rich peasants and Estonian nationalists were exiled. During the Doctors’ Plot I was not the only Jew who was fired, many were. First, I did not understand that it was the state politics, not something directed against me. I was just a Jew, and was supposed to be treated like other Jews. I understood that when I went to the central committee of the Estonian party, where many of my brothers-in-arms were. They turned their backs on me, being afraid to talk to me. It was very sad.

Then one of my pals turned out to be brave and offered me a job. He was aware of my leadership skills, and he could have offered me a different job, but the only offer I could get was the position of an engineer in Vtorsyryo bureau [company's name originates from the words "secondary raw materials". The firm took scrap metal and paper litter from the population at dirt cheap prices and sent those materials to processing facilities]. Under those circumstances that job saved me, so there was no other way but agree. I worked there until 1956.

After the Twentieth Party Congress 35 they started to look into the cases of those who suffered under Stalin. It was the period of time when many repressed people came back. My stepfather Mark Schynzvit also came back. He was exhausted, feeble, but still alive. I was called to the central party committee of Estonia and asked where I would like to work. Despite them being unfair to me during the Doctors’ Plot, I was still a great patriot of Estonia. I saw the poor performance of kolkhozes 36. Estonia, having been world food exporter until 1940, could barely cover domestic needs. I decided that I should go to the villages. My friend was assigned the first secretary of the regional party committee in Otepää district, now a famous ski training area. He asked for my help. I moved there from Tallinn and worked there for four years.

I went to Otepää with my family. I got married in Tallinn. I am not willing to tell you anything about my first wife. We parted a long time ago. We had two daughters: Ilona, born in 1949, and Viola, born in 1951. I was appointed the director of the people’s theater in Otepää. It was an amateur theater, the producer was the only professional there. They needed an organizer, who could make it work. I started organizing work enthusiastically. We repaired the theater building, chose a couple of plays and started rehearsals. It was very interesting; I even played some minor parts. I worked all day long.

Of course, it hurt my family. My relationship with my wife got very tense. What woman would like her husband to come home for sleep and then run away to work in the morning? Thus, things went well at work, but it was vice versa in the family. Our group became very famous not only in our district, but all over Estonia. We got prizes and honorary mentions at all amateur contests, but I broke up with my wife. My wife said that she was fed up with being a wife on paper and filed for a divorce. After that she took our daughters to Tallinn. Of course, I saw my daughters as much as I could, trying to go to Tallinn more often.

When our theater became solid and well-organized I was offered a job in the district party committee. I accepted the offer. I had a good reputation there and soon I was in charge of the department, but they said that it was the highest position I could get, as the next top position was the secretary of the district party committee and I was clearly told that a Jew could not be assigned to that post in the Soviet Union. Of course, I knew that anti-Semitism was very strong in the Soviet Union, but it was not accepted in Estonia, at any rate within the aboriginal population. Those who arrived from the USSR remained with their views in Estonia. It hurt me.

There were recreation centers for party activists in the south, in the Crimea, Sochi. Of course, they were much more comfortable than ordinary spas. I got vouchers to go there twice. The first time I went there, I did not understand why they looked at me with surprise written all over their faces. Then when I met some people, one of them asked me a straightforward question: how did you get here, being a Jew? At that time I could not understand why nationality should have something to do with a bonus for good work. If someone got a trip voucher only one criterion mattered – good performance. When the people from the recreation center found out that a Jew in Estonia could have such a position and get such a trip voucher, they were sincerely astounded. It was out of the ordinary for them.

In general, life in Estonia differed a lot from other places in the USSR. We were like Europe for them. It could be seen even in trifles. I did not like hats and was wearing a beret, which caused no emotions in Estonia. When I came to Moscow in that beret, everybody was very surprised because the officials of the district party committee were wearing only hats as if it was a part of their uniform. A modern beret was like a challenge to them.

After Otepää I was offered a job in Tallinn: to run the municipal culture palace. I was not provided with an apartment in Tallinn, but I could stay with my mother. After the war she received a small two-room apartment in the semi-basement. She managed to make it clean and cozy. My stepfather Mark Schynzvit was still alive. Neither my mother, nor my stepfather worked after the war. They got some skimpy pension, but they could get by with that. Of course, I tried helping them out with money, though my salary was not high. Besides, I was supposed to support my daughters. I could give my mother much less than I wanted to.

Mother was a good homemaker and she managed to make a living with the money she got. We did not observe the kashrut after the war, it was next to impossible. There was a deficit of primary products, not to mention kosher ones. But still, if Mother bought live chickens on the market, she took them to a shochet to have them cut. We marked major Jewish holidays.

After the war there was no synagogue in Tallinn, just a small prayer house. There was no rabbi. An old Jew, who knew traditions, was acting as rabbi. Before Pesach matzah was sold in the synagogue; it was brought from somewhere. On holidays my mother and Mark went to the synagogue. At home holidays were marked in accordance with the rules – no crumbs on Pesach and strict fasting on Yom Kippur. If I was in Tallinn during a holiday, I marked it with Mother and Mark. It did it only for them, as I personally did not need it.

My stepfather Mark died in 1967. He was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Tallinn. My grandmother Vera Pasternak is also buried there. She died in the middle of the 1950s, when I was working in Otepää, so I could not even come to her funeral.

There was a lot of work in Tallinn. I wanted to make our culture palace into a place that people would enjoy to visit in the evening and on days off. I wanted it to be a center of culture and recreation. We established several vocal and dancing groups. There was a very good ladies’ vocal group called Elektra, which was also famous outside Estonia. Our symphonic orchestra had tours overseas with that group. It was the time when it was hard for USSR citizens to go abroad even as tourists, but we went there on concert tours as participants of festivals and contests.

It was the time when I got to know that the KGB 37 followed everybody, especially abroad. There was also somebody in our group who was assigned by the party committee to go with us on tour. He had nothing to do with our group, his only task was to follow the members of the group, eavesdropping on people and keeping a record on everyone. First, I was very naïve and I could not believe it when somebody told me about it. Then I believed that it was true.

Our symphonic orchestra was supposed to go to Berlin on an excursion. It was Eastern Germany, but still a foreign country to us. Suddenly, some musicians from the orchestra came up to me and told me that one of their colleagues would not go to Berlin as per order from Moscow, and a man and woman were sent instead of him. Those two people turned out to be from the KGB and they were supposed to report on our trip. Even in Berlin, when we went on a city tour, they stayed at the hotel and checked our things.

At times the KGB turned some of our musicians into informers. Once, I went to Finland with the ladies band. We were talking with the group leader, and suddenly I heard some sounds behind the door. We opened the door and saw a musician who was instructed to eavesdrop on us. His task was to follow what other people were doing. Those were unpleasant things, which made me feel despondent.

In general, it was hard to work at that time. Everything was to be approved, and God forbid if someone found ‘a Western influence’ in any activity. That tag was attached to everything that was even slightly different from the Soviet routine. I came across that when we organized a jazz club in the culture palace. It was in the 1960s, it was the time when Saturday was made a day off. I found a place for a chill-out. On Friday people got together there. There was some wine, coffee, desserts.

Those were jazz evenings. Such types of cafés existed abroad, and I liked them very much. It was not a concert where you were supposed to stay in your seat and listen to music. This café was a place, where we could communicate, dance and listen to good jazz. Our jazz café became very popular. It was not attended by young people only. There were middle-aged people as well. Whole families came there.

At that time the USSR disapproved of jazz like many other things that were popular in the West. Our jazz club was not open for a long time. People willingly came to us. Once, the instructor from the municipal part committee came to us. He had been sitting all evening long with a poker face and the next day there was a scandal and I was on the carpet. There was a big scandal: I was reproached by the municipal party committee for spreading cheap bourgeois culture and they were going to close the club.

Fortunately, I managed to convince them not to close down the café and we promised that we would not call it jazz club. People liked the place a lot and even the papers wrote about it and it was good having the café. None of the party activists attended our evenings. It was a hard time. I do not even want to go back to it.

I left the culture palace after one incident that took place on the 1st May parade. Our orchestra always took part in the parades on 1st May and on 7th November 38. We marched passing by the tribunes. Once, my boss, who was a member of the central party committee as well as a member of the Supreme Council 39 of Estonia, wanted our orchestra to play Labor March on the demonstration devoted to 1st May, but our orchestra had never rehearsed that march. We did not have enough time for the preparation, but we managed. We were playing the march, when we passed by the tribunes.

After the demonstration I went to the boss and asked him if he was pleased, and he was perturbed that we started playing too far from the tribunes where the government was staying. He was shouting at me why we had started playing so early. I did not want to justify myself. It do not think it is right to justify oneself when you do not understand where your fault lies. I left tacitly and the next day I wrote a resignation letter. At that time the Tallinn culture palace was one of the best in the entire Soviet Union. They wanted to talk me into staying, but I was not willing to.

Then I was offered a job as editor of the photo department of the news agency Eta, which provided materials for almost all printed editions of the Baltic countries. Eta was actually a political organization. We had to adjust all news from the different parts of the world for the Soviet press and of course make a certain coloring. Soon I was assigned chief editor of the photo department.

Often I had to attend seminars in Moscow or Leningrad and I noticed the way they looked at me. It was a miracle for them that a Jew could be offered such a position – chief editor – in such an organization. There were Jews who held lower positions. When I talked to them it turned out that they were totally different. I thought that a Jew would always understand a Jew, but they had different views, another ideology. Many of my colleagues treated me fairly and did not hurt me. But still I had a feeling at times they were not very glad to see me there.

In the post-war years Russian culture was imposed on Estonia. People who came to Estonia from the USSR did not find it necessary to study the Estonian language, but all Estonians were supposed to know Russian. When I was working in Eta, we had a meeting with the management every morning. Most of the editors spoke poor Russian, but those meetings were always held in Russian. This was the ideology. I was the only one in the meeting, who was speaking Estonian.

Once, this issue was brought up at a party meeting. One Estonian from our publishers got up and said that Kraemer was not willing to speak Russian, which was wrong in his opinion. I replied, ‘Where do you live, my dear? You live in Estonia, where Estonian is the main language, therefore I prefer speaking good Estonian to broken Russian.

Such kind of pressure lasted during the entire period of the Soviet regime. When I was working in Eta, I was compelled to go through training in the higher party school 40. The school was based in Moscow. I had extramural studies, only attending examination sessions in Moscow. I had to take my final exams in Moscow in Russian. I made so many mistakes in the dictation that I thought I would never obtain a diploma. There were three of us from the Baltic countries, and for all of us Russian dictation was an unsurpassable hurdle. It was good that our teacher understood that. She dictated us the text and then she said that she would leave the classroom for a minute. The three of us copied the dictation from Russian guys. This is how we passed the exam.

In general, the Soviet system was built on deception and hypocrisy. The bright example of that are the elections to local council and up to Supreme Council of Estonia and the USSR. For a number of years I was the chairman of the electoral board. It’s hard to call that procedure election – there was only one possible candidate that people were supposed to elect. The only choice was pro or contra his name. The votes were counted in a peculiar way. I received a call from the party committee and was told: today we were supposed to have 98%. That was the issue. It was all false, we were not supposed to do that. I never made that approach, but those things took place nevertheless.

When in 1948 the state of Israel was founded 41, I gladly welcomed it. I took the foundation of the Jewish state seriously and I was happy that after 2000 years the state was revived. Soviet Union was one of the initiators of the foundation of the state of Israel, but after a while the relationships between the states were not that friendly. The Soviet Union even terminated diplomatic relations with Israel 42. Official propaganda called Israel the aggressor. We started to support Arab countries, supplied weapons, military experts and probably also provided monetary assistance.

During the Six-Day-War 43 and the Yom Kippur War 44 the Soviet mass media even said that Israel was the first to attack, though all of us knew that it was not the case. We could follow the events in Israel from the transmissions of the foreign radio. We were worried about Israel. Everybody understood that the Arab countries wanted to exterminate Israel with the help of the Soviet Union. I remember how happy we were over the Israeli victory. We exulted over all the victories of Israel. At that time it was noticeable that the Soviet Union was biased against Israel. Unfortunately, very few things have changed since then. Russia, considering itself the successor of the Soviet Union, treats Israel the same way.

I often went abroad with our concert groups. I probably communicated with foreigners more than other people from the USSR and I saw that they hated the Soviet Union. I remember in the 1950s, when Soviet troops were in Hungary 45, we went there on a concert tour. During the weekend we were taken to Lake Balaton. When I was swimming in the lake, a stranger swam up to me and asked if I was from the Soviet Union. I said that it did not matter where I was from. He told me that for him it was very important, as the Hungarians hated the Soviets, who were shooting at them in their motherland. I was at a loss, and then he added that I would run inform against him. I remember that conversation clearly.

When in 1968 the Soviet Union commissioned troops in Czechoslovakia 46, I was concerned. I understood that all the citizens hated Soviets, and I was also a USSR citizen. I understood that there was nothing that could be changed and my lone protests were useless, but on the other hand I was ashamed to keep silent. I wanted to cry out loud that it was a crime against an independent sovereign country. I remained silent and felt ashamed.

Soon after the Czechoslovakian events I happened to be in Germany with the ladies’ group. My pal, the director of the culture palace in Dresden, invited me to the restaurant. There were German militaries, generals of the East German army, sitting at the table. They drank a lot and had fun. I asked what they were celebrating. One of the generals replied that his division was in Czechoslovakia in 1968 and they said they gave them a hard time. I had a feeling that I had come back into Hitler’s time, when the German army also killed inhabitants of Czechoslovakia. And again we were there, and now the Soviet Union was in with them and it was terrible. I hurried from the restaurant. I still have bad reminiscences of that conversation.

In early 1970 Jews from the Soviet Union were allowed to leave for Israel. Officially it was called family reunion, but in fact even those who did not have kin there were also leaving. Many of my friends left, my cousin Margalit, the daughter of Aunt Rebecca. She and her husband had died before Margalit immigrated to Israel with her family. We write letters and call each other.

I was happy for those who managed to leave. I helped them with what I could, but I was not eager to leave Estonia. I will always have ties with this country. There were my relatives here, and most of time I had stayed here and felt that I was needed. What would I be doing in Israel at my age? Maybe if I were 20-30, I would think of immigration. But at that time I was over 50 and clearly understood that at that age it would be hard for me to get acclimatized.

I met my second wife, an Estonian lady called Mayli Kurg, a long time ago, in the 1950s. I was still married when we met and we were just friends. Mayli is a very kind and smart person. I always asked for her advice when I had some difficulties with work. We started seeing each other more often when I moved to Tallinn. By that time I had been divorced. I really needed Mayli. We got married in 1975. The wedding was not special, we just had our marriage registered and in the evening we had a party at the restaurant with relatives and friends.

Mayli had a small apartment. We exchanged Mayli’s and my mother’s apartments for a nice three-room apartment in a new building in a new district of Tallinn. We are still living there. My mother lived with us until her death. She loved Mayli, who was like a daughter to her. Mayli looked after my mother and helped her a lot. My mother died in 1978. She was buried in the Jewish cemetery next to my stepfather. It was a traditional Jewish funeral. There was a synagogue at the cemetery and we stuck to the rite. My friends also helped me out. We put a memorial plaque on the tombstone mentioning my father’s name Samuel Kraemer.

My and Mayli’s name are also mentioned there. In due time, my daughters will have to insert the date of death. Here I had some disagreement with the rabbi of our Jewish community. First, according to the Jewish traditions, a dead Jew cannot be put in the grave with other bodies, even if they were buried 20-30 years ago. I do not think it is right. Secondly, I would like to be cremated after I die. I know that for instance in America, Jews are cremated and nobody considers it a violation of Jewish traditions. But we cannot do it here. Why not?

Things are changing in the world, why should we stick to the old times. This is wrong. There are so few Jews left in Tallinn, can’t there be a concession to us? I am so old that I can die any day and I want it to be done my way. The last person who died from the senior generation of our family was my aunt Ester, the wife of mother’s brother David. She died a couple of weeks ago at the age of 97. She had a sound mind until her last day.

Now, let me tell you something about my wife Mayli. She was born in 1933 in the small hamlet of Cambia near Tartu. Mayli’s father, Arthur Kurg, was a gardener, and her mother Leine was a housewife. Mayli also had an elder brother. He is dead by now. In 1948 Mayli finished the eighth grade of compulsory school and left for Tartu to study in the ninth and tenth grade. Shortly after that her father died. Mayli came back home after having finished school. She was supposed to work and help her mother. She worked as a teacher in the elementary school and studied at Tallinn pedagogical school at the extramural department.

Mayli had worked for two years in Cambia, when she decided to find a job in Rakvere. At that time Rakvere was a hamlet, there was neither transport, nor modern conveniences. Then Mayli moved to Tallinn. First she worked in the kindergarten, then she was offered a job in a seamstress vocational school. She worked there for a long time. Her teacher’s salary was skimpy, and she had to think of her pension. Mayli went to work as person in charge of the warehouse at the milk factory. She worked there for ten years and retired in 1988.

After the fall of communism

When Estonia became independent, life was getting difficult. There was not enough money and Mayli started working as a librarian at school. She stopped working in 1998. Mayli is a wonderful person. Both my daughters loved her very much. Mayli treated them like her own. She loves her grandchildren. Both my daughters are married. The elder, Ilona, lives in Switzerland with her family. Her son Oscar is 22. My younger one, Viola, married name Eek, lives in Finland with her husband and her daughter Anne. Both of them often come to our dacha 47 on vacation with their families. They are happy to see Mayli as much as to see me.

I welcomed the breakup of the Soviet Union. Estonia regained independence, but for all of us, born in Estonia, it was a revival. Many people who are younger than me do not remember many things, but I am the one who can compare. I remember how Jews were treated in pre-soviet Estonia. Jews had all opportunities to study and live comfortably. Estonian Jews were helped and protected by the state. Really, Jews had a good living in bourgeois Estonia. There were poor and rich ones. Indeed, the rich helped out the poor.

During the Soviet regime there was special attention paid to the Jews, but with the purpose for the Jews to know their place and understand that they should not be seeking to be in the highlight. As soon as a Jew demonstrated his skills seeking a better position, he was put in his place right way. I know that perfectly well. Officially there were talks about brotherhood and equality of USSR peoples, but those were mere words. In actuality the attitude towards Jews was very bad.

Now things have changed. I do not think it is right to say that we are living in a new Estonia. It is not a new Estonia, it is Estonia, as it used to exist before 1940. Here people are the most important, their lives, the development of the country for people to have a better living.

I feel no anti-Semitism in Estonia. I am Estonian citizen, enjoying all the rights of a citizen and having certain responsibilities. Though, it is not the same for Russian Jews, who settled in Estonia after 1940. Estonians consider them to be occupants along with Russians and it is noticeable in the attitude towards Russian Jews. And such an attitude is also directed towards veterans of the Estonian corps. We are also called occupants or accomplices of the occupants. It hurts.

I am chairman of the Council of War Veterans in our community. Every year on 22nd September we celebrated the liberation of Tallinn from the fascists. All of us, veterans of the Estonian corps, go to the Monument to the Unknown Soldier on that day. I also go there with a feeling of pride as I was also among the liberators of Tallinn. And now, young guys, who even read books, cannot imagine what war is like, and are telling me that I am an occupant, not the liberator. What is my fault? What was I supposed to do? Reach Narva and stop saying that I am not willing to go liberate Estonia for the Soviet Union? What were we to do, especially the Jews, the soldiers of the Estonian corps, who were aware of fascists exterminating Jews in concentration camps in Estonia? What were we, the army, supposed to do? Should we have said, ‘we are not going to Estonia, let it be liberated by the Russians?’

I do not think that such an attitude is correct. We are not the occupants. We did not think of ourselves, when we were fighting fascists. For example, so many of our guys died in Velikiye Luki. When we, the veterans of the Estonian corps, decided to collect money for a monument dedicated to them, nobody wanted to give us money. Finally, the left party helped. On jubilee dates we go to Velikiye Luki to meet with other war veterans who took part in that battle. We commemorate those who perished there. This should be kept in our memories. Veterans should be respected. It is an utter disrespect to our own history, when we, the elderly people, the veterans, on the day of the liberation of the city have to beseech somebody to give us a bus to go to Tallinn cemetery, where thousands of our guys are buried, and to bring them flowers. And not to mention the trip to Kurland…

Probably, time will sort things out, but I doubt that I will live to see that. I am too old, and I am ready for death. I am not afraid to die; I have been walking with death hand-in-hand all war long. The only thing I fear is helplessness, making me a burden to my kin. They also had a lot of things to go through. When I had a stroke, Mayli had to stay with me all day long. I do not know whether she had a chance to sleep even for an hour. She helped me survive and regain my footing. I was operated twice. I had my renal calculus [kidney stone] removed during the first operation, and a carcinoma during the second one. I am still alive. So much time has passed.

Estonia is getting capitalistic, which is good. What is good in capitalism? It is good for constant development. You cannot remain where you are, as the others will be ahead of you. Everybody thinks of improving things, coming up with a new idea. There was nothing of the kind in the Soviet Union. Socialists gave people no chance to grow, making all people stay at the same level. It was hard to go past that level. Initiative was not encouraged. It was a good and calm time for those people who were not willing to learn new things. I have always been eager to do something interesting, better, innovative. It was hard for me as I was going upstream.

At times I am asked why I joined the communist party. What was I supposed to do? At that time I could not have acted otherwise. I thought it was right to be a party member. I was very young and I did not understand how hypocritical the policy of the Soviet Union was. We were always told that it was the party that fought fascism and defeated Hitler in that horrible war. I saw the atrocity of fascism with my own eyes and I believed that I belonged to those who were fighting against it.

Now many people are blamed for it. There are constant press releases, where the leaders of today’s Estonia, are defamed for being party members. Our president is also blamed for it. Of course, here canvassing plays its part, those who run for presidency are trying to defame the other candidates. Can the president be blamed for it? It was the time when it was mandatory for the leaders to be party members. Where would you find a smart person who was not a party member back then? At that time our current president did a lot for Estonia. It was his merit that we had a much better living than other places of the Soviet Union. He is an honest and adamant man. They wanted to dismiss him from his post and failed. Now they are willing to do that as well. I cannot understand it.

In general, it seems to me that it does not make sense to groundlessly reject all things that happened during the Soviet regime. There were both good and bad things. In the past the state paid close attention to children, the youth. It was free to go in for sport. There were all kinds of sections, circles to anybody’s liking and propensities. There were different events for the youth, where they could dance and have fun. There are things like that now as well, but they are not affordable for most young people. The state is not looking into that. The most important thing for modern people is money and nobody is thinking of raising a good and prudent generation. That is why such bad phenomena as addiction to drugs and alcohol, and crime emerge.

The easiest is to wine and moan over a bad life, but it is very hard to do something to improve life, and for this one should not only focus on his own well-being, but also think of sharing with the poor. There is now bourgeois Estonia. Today, most politicians do not think of improving life for people, but having more people to vote for them during the ballot. It is possible, of course, that I do not understand many things in present-day life. I am very old and it is very hard for me to change.

I am surprised with the lenient attitude of our government to the military crimes. I remember that during the war there were articles of an Estonian military reporter who was in German troops and wrote how the Germany army was fighting the Soviet Union. He now lives in Estonia. He is a respectable man. Actually he is a military criminal, but there is no imputation against him.

There is another example: last fall there was a ceremonious opening of the new art museum. Invited was an Estonian, a fascist, who was working in the German political police. He interrogated the Jews like my father was interrogated and sentenced to death. He did not shoot people, there were others who did it as per his order. Our prosecutors said that there was no blood on him and therefore no indictment. Those who killed were guilty. He personally did not do that, therefore he was not guilty.

I know that the American ambassador who was going to attend the opening ceremony refused from it after learning that the fascist was to attend. It is a big minus for Estonia. I do not know how that person can be considered non-guilty. Maybe I think like that because I am a Jew, who perfectly understands that those things were not supposed to be done. They acted in the wrong way.

During the years of perestroika 48 the Jewish Community of Estonia 49 was founded. The community does a lot for us. Here like anywhere else we can find differences between Soviet and other Jews. It is so vast, but often we cannot understand each other, as if we are talking about different things. A Jew should understand a Jew, and our views differ so much that we cannot find an understanding. The Jewish community helps everybody, be it Estonian or Soviet Jews. Apart from monetary assistance, we are given food.

Different festive events are also organized for us. My 80th jubilee was marked in the Jewish community. It was great. I was so moved. Every month the birthdays of all people born in that month are celebrated. It is great, as most of them have neither family nor friends. Who would congratulate them at home? They do it in a nice way in the community – a festive dinner, presents, greetings. It is very important for us old people. It is hard to feel lonely and unwanted. Jewish holidays are always arranged for us, we celebrate them in the community with a rabbi.

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 Tartu Synagogue

It was built in 1903 by architect R. Pohlmann. This synagogue was destroyed by fire in 1944. The ritual artifacts of the Tartu Synagogue and the books belonging to Jewish societies were saved during WW II by two prominent Estonian intellectuals – Uki Masing and Paul Ariste. A part of synagogue furnishing has been preserved in the Estonian Museum of Ethnography.

3 Pushkin, Alexandr (1799-1837)

Russian poet and prose writer, among the foremost figures in Russian literature. Pushkin established the modern poetic language of Russia, using Russian history for the basis of many of his works. His masterpiece is Eugene Onegin, a novel in verse about mutually rejected love. The work also contains witty and perceptive descriptions of Russian society of the period. Pushkin died in a duel.

4 Five percent quota

In tsarist Russia the number of Jews in higher educational institutions could not exceed 5% of the total number of students.

5 Reestablishment of the Estonian Republic

According to the referendum conducted in the Baltic Republics in March 1991, 77.8 percent of participating Estonian residents supported the restoration of Estonian state independence. On 20th August 1991, at the time of the coup attempt in Moscow, the Estonian Republic's Supreme Council issued the Decree of Estonian Independence. On 6th September 1991, the USSR's State Council recognized full independence of Estonia, and the country was accepted into the UN on 17th September 1991.

6 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.

7 Hitler's rise to power

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

8 German Invasion of Poland

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

9 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.

10 Estonian War of Liberation (1918-1920)

The Estonian Republic fought on its own territory against Soviet Russia whose troops were advancing from the east. On Latvian territory the Estonian People's Army fought against the Baltic Landswer's army formed of German volunteers. The War of Liberation ended by the signing of the Tartu Peace Treaty on 2nd February 1920, when Soviet Russia recognized Estonia as an independent state.

11 Estonia in 1939-1940

On 24th September 1939, Moscow demanded that Estonia make available military bases for the Red Army units. On 16th June, Moscow issued an ultimatum insisting on the change of government and the right of occupation of Estonia. On 17th June, Estonia accepted the provisions and ceased to exist de facto, becoming Estonian Soviet Republic within the USSR.

12 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.

13 All-Union pioneer organization

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

14 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.

15 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 under the pretext of 'grossly dodged from labor activity in the agricultural field and led anti-social and parasitic mode of life' from Latvia 52,541, from Lithuania 118,599 and from Estonai 32,450 people were deported. The total number of deportees from the three republics amounted to 203,590. Among them were entire Lithuanian families of different social strata (peasants, workers, intelligentsia), everybody who was able to reject or deemed capable to reject 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 camps.

16 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.

17 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.

18 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.

19 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.

20 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.

21 Estonian Rifle Corps

Military unit established in late 1941 as a part of the Soviet Army. The Corps was made up of two rifle divisions. Those signed up for the Estonian Corps by military enlistment offices were ethnic Estonians regardless of their residence within the Soviet Union as well as men of call-up age residing in Estonia before the Soviet occupation (1940). The Corps took part in the bloody battle of Velikiye Luki (December 1942 - January 1943), where it suffered great losses and was sent to the back areas for re-formation and training. In the summer of 1944, the Corps took part in the liberation of Estonia and in March 1945 in the actions on Latvian territory. In 1946, the Corps was disbanded.

22 Enemy of the people

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

23 Stalingrad Battle

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

24 Klooga

Subcamp of the Vaivara camp in Estonia, set up in 1943 and one of the largest camps in the country. Most of the prisoners came from the Vilnius ghetto; they worked under extreme conditions. There were 3,000 to 5,000 inmates kept in the Klooga camp. It was eliminated together with all of its inmates in spring 1944, before the advance by the Soviet army.

25 Kurland

In Latvian Kurzeme, Kurland is a historic region in the Western part of Latvia; ancient Kursa. It was conquered by German knights in the 13th century and became part of Livonia. It was Kurland Duchy since 1561, in the period 1795-1917 Kurland Province of Russian Empire and beginning from 1918 and at present it is a part of Latvia.
26 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.

27 Reparation Agreement at the Yalta Conference

British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin met at Yalta, Crimea, USSR, in February 1945 to adopt a common policy. Most of the important decisions made remained secret until the end of World War II for military or political reasons. The main demand of the 'Big Three' was Germany's unconditional surrender. As part of the Yalta Conference an agreement was concluded, the main goal of which was to compensate Germany's war enemies, and to destroy Germany's war potential. The countries that received the most reparation were those that had borne the main burden of the war (i.e. the Soviet Union). The agreement contained the following: within two years, removal of all potential war-producing materials from German possession, annual deliveries of German goods for a designated amount of time, and the use of German labor. Fifty per cent of the twenty billion dollars that Germany had to pay in reparation damages was to go to the Soviet Union.

28 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.

29 Order of the Red Star

Established in 1930, it was awarded for achievements in the defense of the motherland, the promotion of military science and the development of military equipments, and for courage in battle. The Order of the Red Star has been awarded over 4,000,000 times.

30 Medal for Valor

Established on 17th October 1938, it was awarded for 'personal courage and valor in the defense of the Motherland and the execution of military duty involving a risk to life'. The award consists of a 38mm silver medal with the inscription 'For Valor' in the center and 'USSR' at the bottom in red enamel. The inscription is separated by the image of a Soviet battle tank. At the top of the award are three Soviet fighter planes. The medal suspends from a gray pentagonal ribbon with a 2mm blue strip on each edge. It has been awarded over 4,500,000 times.

31 Medal for Victory over Germany

Established by Decree of the Presidium of Supreme Soviet of the USSR to commemorate the glorious victory; 15 million awards.

32 Order of the Great Patriotic War

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

33 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.

34 Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’

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

35 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.

36 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.

37 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.

38 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..

39 The Supreme Soviet

'Verhovniy Soviet', comprised the highest legislative body in the Soviet Union and the only one with the power to pass constitutional amendments. It elected the Presidium, formed the Supreme Court, and appointed the Procurator General of the USSR. It was made up of two chambers, each with equal legislative powers, with members elected for five-year terms: the Soviet of the Union, elected on the basis of population with one deputy for every 300,000 people in the Soviet federation, the Soviet of Nationalities, supposed to represent the ethnic populations, with members elected on the basis of 25 deputies from each of the 15 republic of the union, 11 from each autonomous republic, five from each autonomous region, and one from each autonomous area.

40 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.

41 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.

42 Severing the diplomatic ties between the Eastern Block and Israel

After the 1967 Six-Day-War, the Soviet Union cut all diplomatic ties with Israel, under the pretext of Israel being the aggressor and the neighboring Arab states the victims of Israeli imperialism. The Soviet-occupied Eastern European countries (Eastern Germany, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Bulgaria) conformed to the verdict of the Kremlin and followed the Soviet example. Diplomatic relations between Israel and the ex-Communist countries resumed after the fall of communism.

43 Six-Day-War

(Hebrew: Milhemet Sheshet Hayamim), also known as the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, Six Days War, or June War, was fought between Israel and its Arab neighbors Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. It began when Israel launched a preemptive war on its Arab neighbors; by its end Israel controlled the Gaza Strip, the Sinai Peninsula, the West Bank, and the Golan Heights. The results of the war affect the geopolitics of the region to this day.

44 Yom Kippur War (1973 Arab-Israeli War)

(Hebrew: Milchemet Yom HaKipurim), also known as the October War, the 1973 Arab-Israeli War, and the Ramadan War, was fought from 6th October (the day of Yom Kippur) to 24th October 1973, between Israel and a coalition of Egypt and Syria. The war began when Egypt and Syria launched a surprise joint attack in the Sinai and Golan Heights, respectively, both of which had been captured by Israel during the Six-Day-War six years earlier. The war had far-reaching implications for many nations. The Arab world, which had been humiliated by the lopsided defeat of the Egyptian-Syrian-Jordanian alliance during the Six-Day-War, felt psychologically vindicated by its string of victories early in the conflict. This vindication, in many ways, cleared the way for the peace process which followed the war. The Camp David Accords, which came soon after, led to normalized relations between Egypt and Israel - the first time any Arab country had recognized the Israeli state. Egypt, which had already been drifting away from the Soviet Union, then left the Soviet sphere of influence almost entirely.

45 1956

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

46 Prague Spring

A period of democratic reforms in Czechoslovakia, from January to August 1968. Reformatory politicians were secretly elected to leading functions of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia (KSC). Josef Smrkovsky became president of the National Assembly, and Oldrich Cernik became the Prime Minister. Connected with the reformist efforts was also an important figure on the Czechoslovak political scene, Alexander Dubcek, General Secretary of the KSC Central Committee (UV KSC). In April 1968 the UV KSC adopted the party's Action Program, which was meant to show the new path to socialism. It promised fundamental economic and political reforms. On 21st March 1968, at a meeting of representatives of the USSR, Hungary, Poland, Bulgaria, East Germany and Czechoslovakia in Dresden, Germany, the Czechoslovaks were notified that the course of events in their country was not to the liking of the remaining conference participants, and that they should implement appropriate measures. In July 1968 a meeting in Warsaw took place, where the reformist efforts in Czechoslovakia were designated as "counter-revolutionary." The invasion of the USSR and Warsaw Pact armed forces on the night of 20th August 1968, and the signing of the so-called Moscow Protocol ended the process of democratization, and the Normalization period began. 

47 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.

48 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.

49 Jewish Community of Estonia

On 30th March 1988 in a meeting of Jews of Estonia, consisting of 100 people, convened by David Slomka, a resolution was made to establish the Community of Jewish Culture of Estonia (KJCE) and in May 1988 the community was registered in the Tallinn municipal Ispolkom. KJCE was the first independent Jewish cultural organization in the USSR to be officially registered by the Soviet authorities. In 1989 the first Ivrit courses started, although the study of Ivrit was equal to Zionist propaganda and considered to be anti-Soviet activity. Contacts with Jewish organizations of other countries were established. KJCE was part of the Peoples' Front of Estonia, struggling for an independent state. In December 1989 the first issue of the KJCE paper Kashachar (Dawn) was published in Estonian and Russian language. In 1991 the first radio program about Jewish culture and activities of KJCE, 'Sholem Aleichem,' was broadcast in Estonia. In 1991 the Jewish religious community and KJCE had a joined meeting, where it was decided to found the Jewish Community of Estonia. 
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