Travel

Faina Saushkina Biography

Faina Saushkina
Lvov
Ukraine
Interviewer: Zhanna Litinskaya
Date of interview: December 2002

Faina Saushkina found me in Lvov. She said she wanted to tell me about her family and her life. She lives with her daughter Tamara and her son-in-law Yuzik in a nice and big apartment in a new neighborhood in Lvov. She has nice furniture bought in 1970s – it suits her aprtment well. The apartment is very clean. She has many books by Russian and Soviet writers on bookshelves. Faina has stayed at home for several years. She had fracture of neck of femur and can hardly move, but she is very nice and hospitable. She has many Jewish, Ukrainian and Russian friends and acquaintances. When I came to see her Faina was having tea with her Ukrainian neighbor Nastia. Faina asked for breaks during the interview when she got tired.

​My parents came from that part of Poland that belonged to the tsarist Russia before the revolution of 1917. All I know about my grandparents is what my parents told me since by the time I was born only my mother’s father was still living.

My mother’s parents Isaac and Leiba Zlotnik born around 1860s lived in Warsaw. My grandfather Isaac was a leather craftsman – he made wallets, purses and wristlets from leftovers of leather. He sold what he made in a small store in his own house. My grandmother was a housewife like all Jewish woman at that time. They led a modest life. They lived in a big 3-room apartment that was modestly furnished. My mother told me that the family was very religious. My grandfather prayed every day with his thales and twiln on. He went to the synagogue that was near their house. There was numerous Jewish population in Warsaw at the end of XIX century and there were few synagogues in the town. My grandparents followed the kashrut, observed all Jewish traditions and celebrated holidays. My mother told me that she had sisters and a brother. My mother’s brother Samuel, Shmulik, studied at cheder. After finishing it he followed into his father’s footsteps and they worked together. I didn’t know him since he died when he was young. Of all mother’s sisters I only knew Tzylia that lived in Warsaw with her husband and two children. My grandmother Leiba died in 1918 and my grandfather Isaac died in the middle of 1930s. –We have no information about what happened to my mother’s sisters.

My mother Sophia Zlotik, a younger one in the family, was born in Warsaw in 1892. She finished a Jewish primary school. She could read and write in Yiddish. My mother and her sisters had a teacher that taught them Yiddish and religion twice a week. My mother could also speak Polish, but didn’t know Russian or Ukrainian. My mother met my future father in 1913 and in 1914 they got married.
My father David Glezer born in a small town (I don’t remember the name) to the west from Warsaw, Poland, in 1887. My grandfather Moisey Glezer was widowed by the time my father met my mother. My father’s mother Golda was a sickly woman. After my father was born she couldn’t have any more children because of her sickness. My grandmother Golda died when my father was about 14 years old. My father spoke very little about his family. All I know is that my grandfather was a shoemaker and taught my father this profession. Grandfather Moisey didn’t remarry. He died around 1917 – I never saw him. Of all father’s relatives I only knew his cousin on his mother’s side – Moisey Zlatopolskiy, the son of my grandmother Golda’s sister. Uncle Moisey or Misha as we called him, moved to Kiev for some reason in early 1920s. He had a wife and three daughters: Lisa, Raya and Manya and a son: Alexandr. During the Great patriotic War their family was in evacuation and after the war they settled down in Lvov. Uncle Moisey died in the middle of 1970s. Of all his children only Raya is alive. She lives in Germany with her family.

My father was a religious man – and I guess, his parents raised him religious. They observed all Jewish traditions, but I don’t know how deeply religious they were since my father didn’t tell me about them. My father got primary Jewish education. He studied at cheder. He began to help his father when he was in his teens and learned his father’s profession. During one of his trips to Warsaw where he took shoes to sell at the market he met my mother’s father Isaac that was interested in buying the remains of leather. On his next trip he came to see Isaac at his home and met my mother. This happened in 1913. My mother used to joke that it was her father Isaac’s plot to arrange for her to meet my father. However, David and Sophia fell in love. Their parents on both sides were happy that the bride and bridegroom belonged to the same layer of society. Grandfather Moisey was particularly happy- he felt ill and didn’t think he had much time left for him to live. He was happy that his son was going to have a family of his own. My parents got married shortly before WWI in 1914. They had a traditional Jewish wedding with a huppah and many guests that were their relatives and friends.
When WWI War began in 1914 my parents moved in the eastern direction to Ukraine. Many Jewish families were moving to Ukraine from Poland at that time trying to escape from the war.
Somehow my parents happened to move to a southern resort town of Simferopol in Crimea, [1200 km from Warsaw]. In 1915 they had a girl born, but she didn’t live long – in few months she got some infection and died in 1916.

I, Feiga Glezer, was born on 20 July 1917. When I was two or three months old we moved to the town of Slavuta that belonged to Kamenets-Podolsk region [Khmelnitsk region now] 500 km to the west from Kiev. I don’t know why my parents moved. There were numerous gangs in the south of Ukraine [1] and my parents were probably looking for a quieter place to live. In 1919 my sister Sarah was born. Our family didn't stay there long. It happened so that my parents that wished to escape from the war in Poland found themselves in the very epicenter of the Civil War [2] in Russia. Starvation, hardships, pogroms and fear forced them back to Poland that wasn’t a part of Russia after 1917. I have dim memories of our trip to Warsaw. I only know that we cross the border illegally having no permits or visas. I remember that the 4 of us got to a town by train and from there we walked to avoid passport control at the border. We went in groups: my mother that was pregnant, Sarah and I and my father carrying a suitcase and a bag went separately. Our mother and we had no problems on the way, but our father was stopped by the frontier guard. Fortunately he wasn’t arrested – they just didn’t let him cross the border. He had to go back to Slavuta. We didn’t have any information in a while until we began to receive letters from him in few months.

​My mother, Sarah and I came to Warsaw where my mother’s father Isaac lived. Our grandmother Leiba died about two years before we came to Warsaw. Our grandfather remarried. His wife’s name was Mirrah. Our arrival was a surprise for them and my mother didn’t know that her mother had died either. We were welcomed cordially. Mirrah was very nice to us and I began to call her ‘grandmother’.
​I was about 4 years old then and I do not remember much about the town or place where we lived. It was a 3-room apartment in a big house on the 3rd or 4th floor, simply furnished: a big wooden table, chairs, cupboard and a wardrobe. There were also wooden beds. My grandfather had his desk where he cut pieces of leather and sewed his crafts with a sewing machine in a big room. We also had meals at this table. Another, smaller room, was my grandparents’ bedroom and our mother and we settled down in the smallest room. My mother had a sister – Tsylia. Her husband Aron was a shoemaker. Her family lived in the neighboring street. I remember that we went to see them and I played with Lyonia and Rieva, their children. In the morning my grandfather put on his thales and twiln and went to the synagogue. He was a very religious man. I liked Friday when my grandmother Mirah and my mother made delicious dinner: chicken broth, veal stew and sometimes Gefilte fish. In the evening my grandmother Mirah lit candles in an ancient silver candle stand, my grandfather said a prayer in Hebrew and we sat down to a meal. On Saturday my grandparents went to the synagogue and my mother and I stayed at home – it was difficult for my mother to walk due to her pregnancy.

I have bright memories of my childhood related to Chanukah celebration. My grandfather and aunt Tsylia gave me sweets and money that my mother saved for me. I also remember Pesach – my mother and grandmother Mirah cleaned the house long before the holiday. My grandfather brought some matsah from the synagogue. My grandmother took beautiful silver dishes and china from a big box. Aunt Tsylia and her family came to visit us. There was plenty of delicious food: fish, chicken, sweet tsymes, apples with honey, pastries and matsah cookies. Lyonia, my cousin, asked my grandfather some questions and my grandfather answered them sitting at the head of the table. I wanted to ask questions myself and I constantly interfered with them. My grandfather told me with a smile that I would ask questions when I grow up.

In 1922 my mother gave birth to a baby girl that was named Manya. My mother was missing my father very much – she even cried at night. When the girl turned one year old my mother began to pack to go back to Russia. My father wrote in his letters that life was improving gradually regardless of hardships and lack of food, that he became a shoemaker and bought a dwelling. He was also missing us and asked us to come back. This time we obtained all necessary documents – it wasn’t a problem since Sarah and I were born in Russia and had a right to go back there. My mother obtained visas and we left for Russia in 1923.

We never saw our grandfather Isaac again. He died in Warsaw in the late 1920s and my mother failed to obtain the visa on time and couldn’t go to his funeral. In 1930s our correspondence with the relatives in Poland terminated and we had no information about my mother’s sister Tsylia. We went home by train. Polish and then Soviet frontier inspectors checked our documents and we moved on. I can’t remember exactly on what station we got off. Our father was waiting for us on a horse-driven cart. We were happy to see each other and started on our way to Slavuta.
​Slavuta was a small town with the population of about 20 thousand people. The majority of population was Jewish. Jews resided in private houses in the central part of the town. Jews were craftsmen for the most part: tailors, shoemakers, watchmakers, glasscutters and cabinetmakers. There were barbershops and even a photo studio in the town. Jewish families resided in the central street and almost every house had a store or a shop on the ground floor. There was a cultural center and post office in the center of the town. There was also a market in the central square where Ukrainian farmers sold their food products (vegetables, greeneries, dairy products, meat and poultry) on Sunday. There were kosher food stores and a shoihet had his shop at the market where he slaughtered chicken. There was a synagogue and a Russian, Ukrainian and Jewish schools in the town.

​We lived in a house in the central street with two entrance doors on both sides. Our family resided in one half of the house and the 2nd half of it belonged to the Jewish family of Abram Vinikur, a butcher that owned a small butcher store where he sold kosher meat. We had 3 big rooms and a kitchen. We had a table and a cupboard in the dining room where we had meals on holidays and at Shabbat. My parents had a bedroom and we had a children’s room.

In 1925 my mother gave birth to a son. He was named Naum. His cradle was in our parents’ room and later he slept in a big room. On weekdays we had meals in the kitchen. There were two stoves in the kitchen: one big stove with a bench and one smaller for heating the house and food. We didn’t have a kitchen garden or livestock. Jews in Slavuta bought all they needed at the market.
My father was a very skilled shoemaker. He worked at a shop and took some additional work home to provide better for our big family. It was a state run shoe shop on the round floor. They received a salary. It wasn’t much, but they had sufficient to make their living. There were about 10 employees in the shop, Jews in the majority. They mainly fixed shoes and sometimes made shoes or orthopedic boots. In the evening when my father came from work he had dinner and sat down on a low stool to work. He had a shoe ‘leg’ and a box of tools beside him. My father often fixed shoes for his clients and never refused even from minor orders. He was a very kind and tactful man and worked a lot. When working he mused Jewish tunes. My father had a hobby: singing. On Saturday and holidays he sang at the synagogue and took part in an amateur Jewish choir in the cultural center. Our father composed funny songs for us and we always asked him to sing at our bedtime. I remember a song he sang to us in Yiddish: I can’t remember it in Yiddish, but the meaning in Russian was as follows: ‘Sarah and Fania, what are you doing in the woods – aren’t you afraid that I would eat you!’
My mother was a housewife. We weren’t a wealthy family, but my mother was very good at housekeeping and we had sufficient of everything. On weekdays our major food was cereals, potatoes and vegetables. My mother made potato pancakes, potato, cabbage and carrot chops. She only made kosher food.

On Friday morning my mother bought kosher meat at a store or went to the market to buy a chicken that she took to the shoihet to have it slaughtered. My mother cleaned the house before Shabbat and had a festive meal: chicken, stew, baked hala bread and strudels. My sisters and I were helping her. My mother cooked sufficient food for Friday and Saturday. It was not allowed to do any work on Saturday. My mother cooked on a big stove and left a Saturday meal in a smaller one to keep it warm.

My father never worked at home on Friday evening. The whole family got together to meet Saturday. My mother lit a candle saying a prayer and our father said ‘brakha’ [‘blessing’ in Yiddish] for bread and wine and we sat at the table. On Saturday morning my father went to the synagogue. When he came back home one of the children took lunch out of the oven and we took to our Saturday meal. We often had poor Jews sitting at the table with us. My mother invited them – they came to our house knowing that they would get a delicious lunch. My mother used to say that Jews had to share with the needy what they had and help the poor. She was raising us to be kind to other people. Nobody in our family ever raised his voice – we got along well and treated each other nicely.
We celebrated all Jewish holidays. My mother had a shed in the yard where she kept chickens that she bought beforehand. Before a holiday she took chickens to have them slaughtered by a shoihet. We cleaned the house and did itparticularly thoroughly before Pesach. We swept all rooms, washed and clayed the floors and polished the furniture. We took our fancy dishes that were only used at Pesach from a big box in the attic. Matsah that was bought at the synagogue in advance was kept in a clean white pillowcase. My mother cooked delicious food for Pesach: Gefilte fish, rich meat stew, chicken and chicken broth, liver paste, egg paste with chicken fat and onions and baked sweet strudel and cookies. In the evening of the first day of Pesach the whole family got together at the table. My father reclined at the head of the table and the children were asking questions. We prepared for a holidays and learned by heart what we were supposed to ask. Manya or I asked questions at the beginning and later Naum when he grew old enough. He asked why this day was different from the others, why we ate matsah instead of bread and our father answered their questions, and of course, this conversation was conducted in Yiddish.

My favorite holiday was Chanukah. I didn’t know the story of this holidays, but I liked to receive money and sweets on this day. I saved money in my moneybox to spend it to buy lollypops and marmelade. We also celebrated the Jewish New [Rosh Hashana] year and my parents fasted on Judgment Day [Yam Kippur]. Our mother cooked food for us telling us that children didn’t necessarily have to fast, but Sarah and I were trying to follow my mother’s example and ate very little on this day.

In 1924 I went to a Jewish lower secondary school. It had the same curriculum as Ukrainian schools. We studied mathematic, geography, history and Ukrainian language and literature. The only difference was that we studied in Yiddish. We didn’t study Jewish literature or history. In the 3rd form I became a pioneer. I liked wearing a pioneer necktie, attending meetings and singing new songs. We had meetings on 1 May, 7 November [3]. We didn’t celebrate Soviet holidays at home. Only my hospitable mother always made pies and cakes for our friends and us.
I had many friends: Fania, a Jew, Ivanka, a Ukrainian girl, Stefka, a Polish girl, and others. We never heard words like ‘zhydy’ [4] or ‘moskali’ [5] – slang name of Russians. We never paid any attention to nationality issues. We spent a lot of time at the town Palace of pioneers attending clubs – I attended choir classes. I sang in a choir where we sang Ukrainian, Russian and Jewish songs. There were also technical and literature clubs, dancing and music classes. On holidays my friends and I went to walk in the central park.

In the 7th form I became a Komsomol [6] member without giving it much thought. All children were enthusiastic about membership in Komsomol – we believed our country to be the best in the world and wanted to contribute into its prosperity. 1932 was a period of famine in Ukraine [7]. I didn’t see dying people in our town, but there were many starved. We had a hard time, too. However, our mother was very handy with cooking and we did not starve. She made mamalyga [corn flour meal], soup and pancakes from potato peels. Our mother baked the beetroots in the oven.
Our family still had a hard time and after finishing school I went to look for a job. I was 17 years old. I came to the Komsomol district committee and they sent me to a 6-month training course of teachers at kindergarten. After finishing this course I began to work at a Jewish kindergarten. I enjoyed my work: I liked children and enjoyed teaching them Jewish songs, dances and poems.
At leisure time my friends and I went to dancing parties and sang in a choir – we sang popular jewish and Soviet songs. Once the district Komsomol committee sent us to a frontier unit in Slavuta where I met my future husband. We conducted meetings dedicated to memorable dates, recited poems and sang. Once our neighbor Manya Vinokur that lived in another half of our house came to our house. She told me that a guy wanted to meet me. He saw me several times during our performances at the frontier unit, but dared not to approach me. At that time morals were very strict in smaller towns in all families, not in only in Jewsih. Young girls could only meet with young men with their mothers or older sisters chaperoning them. Any intimate relationships with young men were out of the question. It was normal when a husband’s mother checked bed sheets after the first night to make sure that is wife was a virgin.

Knowing strict morals of Jewish families this young man didn’t know how to approach me. I told my parents that a military from the frontier until wanted to be my friend and they invited him to our home. Manya brought this soldier to our house in the evening. He was a Russian guy with fair hair, blue eyes, handsome and strong. His name was Alexandr Savushkin. Alexandr was born in a poor family in a village near Voronezh, in the central part of Russia in 1912. His parents died of typhoid during the Civil War and Alexandr and his sisters grew up in a children’s home. He served in the army in Slavuta. Alexandr was a cook in a canteen for soldiers.

Alexandr visited us every day. He courted me in his own particular way - he brought some food instead of flowers. 1934 was still a difficult year and soldiers got better food than we had. I liked him and met with him. My parents were not particularly happy about my friendship with a Russian man with no parents. My father didn’t like it, but my mother liked Alexandr. She liked it that he cared about me. We met for a year. By the way, were never left by ourselves. I went to parties at the military unit or Alexandr visited us and when we went for a walk in the town my sisters Sarah or Manya were always with me. In summer a group of young people and I went to a collective farm to help them with harvesting. Alexandr came there on a Sunday with a bag full of food.

In autumn 1934 Alexandr officially proposed to me. He came with flowers and asked my parents to give their consent to our marriage. My parents had no objections to our marriage – they saw that Sasha treated me nicely and that I was in love with him and didn’t want to put any barriers on our way. At the beginning of 1935 we had a civil ceremony at the local registry office. I took my husband’s last name and became Faina Savushkina. After the war when I was receiving a new passport I saw that they wrote my last name with one letter missing - Saushkina, but I left it at that. We had a wedding dinner with members of our family, Alexandr’s friends from the military unit and our neighbor Manya that introduced us to one another. It was a small dinner party. Alexandr stayed with me overnight. We slept on my narrow bed and my sister Manya that shared the room with me went to sleep in our parents’ bedroom. In the morning my husband went to the military unit. For some time Alexandr only came home on Saturday or when he got a leave and left for the military unit again. He began to observe some Jewish traditions with our family. He learned few prayers and enjoyed our celebrations at Shabbat or on holidays. On 30 March 1935 my husband’s term of service was over. He demobilized and we began to prepare to departure to Voronezh where he came from. Soldiers and officers from the military unit where Alexandr served came to say ‘good bye’ to us and wish us happiness. I didn’t sleep the night before we left – I talked with my father and mother. They were very concerned about our departure and my father was afraid of letting me go away with a non-Jewish husband.

Alexandr’s sister Ania met us in Voronezh. She was older than Alexandr. She lived in Voronezh with her husband. They didn’t have children. They welcomed us with warmth and we moved in with them into their big room. My husband went to work as a locksmith at the same plant where he worked before he went to serve in the army.
On 7 October 1935 my son Boria was born. He was a nice boy only he was growing and developing so fast that doctors were even concerned about it. At 7 months he walked in his bed and smiled – he had a mouthful of teeth. My husband and I were very happy and Anna helped us to take care of our son. But Boria caught cold and died of pleurisy. Only thanks to my husband’s love and warmth with which his sister treated me I began to come back to life after my son died.

I went to work at a kindergarten. In some time we received a room at a communal apartment not far from where Anna lived. We celebrated Soviet holidays and went to parades with Anna and her husband. I lived in a Russian family and of course I didn’t observe any Jewish traditions. However, before Pesach my husband always bought me some matsah in a bakery and I cooked all traditional food that my mother used to cook. My husband and his sister treated me with respect and we never had any conflicts related to national differences.

On 15 September 1938 my daughter Tamara was born. In summer 1939, 9 months after our daughter was born my husband was recruited to the army to participate in the Finnish war [8]. After this short-term war was over my husband wasn’t demobilized – he stayed in the army. Alexandr’s sister loved Tamara as much as she loved Boria and helped me to take care of the baby.
On 12 June 1941 I took Tamara to visit my parents in Slavuta. This was my first visit after I left. We had a photo of the family taken on this occasion. On 21 June [9] my mother and I went to the prom of my younger sister Manya. When we were on the way home late at night all of a sudden there appeared black planes in the sky dropping bombs. This was the beginning of the Great patriotic War. We packed our documents, money, underwear and clothes and went to the railway station. Some houses were ruined and there were people killed. We came to the station and saw that it was on fire and railroad track was destroyed. We walked in Eastern direction: my mother and father, Sarah and Manya, Naum and I with Tamara. We took turns to carry my daughter. We reached Shepetovka. There was a train with wounded soldiers and officers there. We boarded this train. It arrived in Kiev where were accommodated in a school building along with other evacuated people. Kiev was bombed.
We were offered to continue on our way on barges along the Dnieper River, but my father refused. He said he wished to die on the ground. Shortly afterward we got onto a train for the government and party officials’ families. The only place we found was on the floor. We didn’t have any food. My sister and I got off at stations. We went to military trains asking for food and soldiers gave us bread, sugar or tinned meat. My father got high fever on the way. He was lying on the floor in delirium and our mother was praying beside him.

Our trip lasted for about a month until we arrived in Novosibirsk in 3000 km to the northeast from Kiev. We were accommodated in a villager’s house in a village near the town. The owners of the house welcomed us warmly and gave us food. In two days we went to work in the field, threshing ground and in the farm ground. I was very worried about my husband that might have sent his letters to Voronezh while I had no idea where or how he was. I went to ask chairman of the collective farm to help us obtain permission to go home and showed him my passport with a residential stamp for Voronezh. Chairman gave us food to take with us on the road and the district executive committee gave us money to buy tickets. The family and I went to the railway station. We spent there few days before we managed to get on a train – there were crowds of people wishing to leave. Manager of the station helped us to get on a train. We arrived at Voronezh and went home. Our neighbors cried on seeing us – they thought I had perished since they knew that when the war began I was in Slavuta near the border and they didn’t think my daughter and I had escaped. My father’s cousin Misha from Kiev was staying in our apartment. He left to search for his family in few days. My relatives didn’t get a residential permit to stay in Voronezh since there were many military enterprises in the town and for security reasons authorities didn’t issue such permits to all civilians. They: my mother, father, sisters Sarah and Manya, and brouther Naum, were accommodated in a collective farm near Voronezh – they worked at harvesting. I got letters from Alexandr. He was at the front. His sister and her husband stayed in Voronezh during the war. They were having a very hard time during the war. After the war they stayed to live in Voronezh. They died in 1970s. We corresponded and had very warm relationships, but we only saw them once when they visited us in Lvov in 1950s.

In 2 or 3 months when the frontline was approaching Moscow military enterprises in Voronezh began to evacuate. I went to see Chukhnov, director of the military enterprise where my husband worked before the war to ask him to take my daughter and me in evacuation with the plant. When evacuation of the plant began director of the plant notified me about it and Tamara and I evacuated with the plant to Chimkent, Middle Asia, about 2500 km from Voronezh. Our trip lasted about 10 days. The train was comfortable – we went by a passenger train and we had no problems on the way. In few days my family joined me there. We were accommodated in a shed, but we were happy to be together.

Workers, engineers and administration of the plant started installation of the plant on a new site. I was working with them loading bricks, sand and other construction materials. When the plant resumed operation I went to work there as a laborer. It was hard work – I was handling heavy cast iron billets. In two years I had two surgeries on hernia from carrying weights. In 1943 director of the plant offered me a position of director of the store at the plant. The former director was stealing. Chukhnow told me that he knew how decent and honest I was. I went home to talk with my parents. My father told me to decline this offer. There was a tendency to anti-Semitic moods at that time. Jews were accused of many misfortunes. For example, a woman at the market sang chastooshka songs [Russian comic verse songs] ‘All zhydy are bosses, Russians are at the front and gypsies stand aside…’ making people around laugh. I went to see Chukhnow to tell him that I refused. He called the party leader of the plant and they began telling me that every person had to make a contribution into victory and if I got this offer from management it meant that they needed me to be there. Well, what could I do? I gave my consent and became director of the store. I was an honest manager. In 1944 I joined the Party since all key personnel in the former Soviet Union had to be members of the Communist Party.
Victory Day of 9 May 1945 was a greatest holiday for our family and millions of people. It was a sunny day. People came out into streets greeting and hugging. Many had tears in their eyes – of happiness about the end of the war and grief for their lost ones.

I received letters from my husband regularly. He was severely wounded in action on the Dnieper River in 1943 and was in hospital. He had his renal pelvis injured and had a lower part of his body paralyzed. He stayed in hospitals for several years.
In 1946 my father’s brother Misha wrote us. He settled down in Lvov after the Great Patriotic War and called us to come there. My parents, sisters and brother went to Lvov at the end of 1945. But I had to stay due to my work. My daughter attended a kindergarten at the plant. My husband was in hospital in Truskavets near Lvov and my brother and sisters often visited him there. Later I resigned and in the end of 1946 Tamara and I went to Lvov.

Lvov joined the USSR in 1939 under the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact [10], - it belonged to Poland before. Many Polish families left for Poland and there were many vacant apartments in the town. We liked Lvov with its beautiful architecture and old buildings.
We stayed with my uncle for some time in his big 3-room apartment until we received an apartment and moved there with the rest of the family. We had a big family. My father didn’t work – he was ill. My mother wasn’t well either. My parents still observed all Jewish traditions until the end of their life. Only we didn’t follow kosher rules considering lack of any food whatsoever. Every Friday my mother lit candles in their room and prayed. They didn’t do any work on Saturday. They also celebrated Pesach. It was actually next to impossible to get matsah in those years, but my mother managed to get some. My mother died in 1952 and my father passed away in 1954. They were buried at the Jewish corner of the town cemetery in Lvov. We didn’t follow any Jewish rituals since we didn’t know them and the synagogue was closed.

Shortly after we returned from evacuation my sisters Sarah and Manya got married and so did our brother Naum. Sarah married Aron Rubinshtein, a Jewish man. Sarah finished an accounting school and worked at the ‘Progress’ shoe factory, her husband worked there as production engineer. In early 1950s her son Isaac was born, named after my mother’s father. In 1970s Sarah and her family moved to the US. They live in New York.

Manya married Izia Grinwald, a Jewish man. He was a shop assistant in a store and Manya went to work there, too. Their only son Lyova went to serve in the Soviet army and his unit was sent to Afghanistan. His parents didn’t know where he was since he didn’t mention it in his letters. He was brought home on a stretcher in 1985 – he was shell-shocked and paralyzed and died soon. Manya and her husband moved to Israel – they reside in Beer-Sheva. My brother Naum finished a school of household services and became a watchmaker. In 1979 Naum, his wife Lena and son Misha moved to New York.

The Party district committee in Lvov gave me an assignment to hold a position of director of a food store. I was doing well at work. In early 1950s, at the height of anti-Semitic struggle against cosmopolites [11] I had continuous audits in my store. Auditors were looking for any violations, but couldn’t find any. Once an auditor said fretting ‘People told me that this zhydovka had things in order – she spoke Ukrainian. Auditors didn’t find a thing to blame me in violations. We took Stalin’s death in 1953 without any emotions; we understood that ‘nature abhors vacuum’. Besides, we had our own problems – so why would we be grieving about a person that was stranger to us. There was always anti-Semitism in Lvov: in the streets, in transport, at work one could hear this «zhydy are to blame for everything’. Here I have to mention that I never heard anything like that said to my children or me. We had Jewish, Ukrainian and Polish friends – we celebrated Soviet holidays together, went to the cinema, theaters and supported one another. I retired from the store I worked at in 1976.

After I moved to Lvov I took my husband to a hospital in Lvov. I took him home after my sisters and brother got married and move out and there was sufficient space to take him home. My husband was an invalid. He had functions of his lower limbs restored, but his urinal system atrophied. I loved Alexandr dearly, but I suffered so. We slept together and Alexandr embraced me, but my young body urged for more what I couldn’t get from my husband. Every night was a torture for me, but it never even occurred to me to look for what I wanted so somewhere else. So it happened that I had intimate relations with Sasha before he went to the Finnish war in 1939. This was the last time in my life. Alexandr was a very nice person. He loved and protected me as much as he could. He worked at home as a binder for a shop. He also did house chores, even washed windows to help me about the house. He helped Tamara do her homework when she went to school. Alexandr died in 1964. I had opportunities to remarry, but I couldn’t do it – Alexandr was the love of my life.

After finishing a secondary school my daughter Tamara entered Mechanic Faculty in Lvov Polytechnic Institute. She finished school with a gold medal and had no problems with admission to the Institute regardless of existing anti-Semitism. Tamara worked as an engineer in a scientific research institute in Lvov. When she was a student she met Joseph Budnik, a nice Jewish guy, a senior student. Joseph was born in Kiev in 1935. His parents Raya and Michael Budnik were engineers. Tamara and Joseph got married in 1960. There were about 100 guests at their wedding party: relatives, their fellow students and former classmates. There was no huppah at the wedding – in those years it wasn’t customary, but there was a Jewish band playing at the wedding party welcoming guests with Jewish wedding tunes. In 1962 Tamara and Joseph’s daughter Lubochka was born. My daughter and Joseph get along very well.

Joseph began his career as an engineer upon graduation and became deputy director of the ‘Electron’ Association in Lvov. Electron was a big manufacturer of TV sets and other appliances in the former USSR. Joseph made a good career, provided well for the family and we never considered emigration to other countries.
In 1990s, during perestroika period, many enterprises were closed. First my daughter and then my son-in-law lost their jobs. Joseph is a pensioner and Tamara is a volunteer at the local Hesed – she helps Hesed employees to do their work. My granddaughter Luba went to Israel in 1994 under a students’ exchange program. In Israel she got married. She has a daughter (she is my great-granddaughter) named Diane. Tamara and her husband visited her in Israel and we’ve taken a firm decision to move to Israel even though the country is on the verge of a war, but I feel like going home and living among our own people. I look forward to the time when I won’t hear ‘zhydovka’ or ‘zhydy’ any longer. Some people explain that many people living in Lvov came from Poland and ‘zhyd’ means ‘Jew’ in Polish, but I still believe that they use this word intentionally to abuse Jewish people.

After my parents died I never celebrated Jewish holidays or bought matsah since I was a member of the Communist party, I didn’t take part in any activities – I just couldn’t be bothered, but I couldn’t observe Jewish traditions either. Firstly, itwould have been against my atheist’s convictios and secondly, I might have faced problems at work if they had found out. In 1991 I tore my Party membership card – I was ashamed for having joined the Party that broke hopes and faith in ideals of so many people and brought so much sorrow to their own people. Since then I began to go back to Jewish traditions. There is a Jewish community in Lvov – ‘Sholem Alechem’ [12], Hesed, and I am happy to recall what I absorbed with my mother’s milk: the Jewish language - Yiddish, culture and traditions. Of course, we didn’t follow the kashrut in our family, but we celebrate all Jewish holidays. We don’t follow all rules, though – I don’t rememer prayers, but we cook traditional Jewish food, light candles at Shabbat, get together for a family dinner and read the Torah in Russian. I read Jewish newspapers. My daughter and son-in-law often go to concerts of Jewish amateur groups. They often take me to the Daytime center in Hesed where I enjoy getting together with friends – we have a common history putting us together as well as all hardships of life that we’ve lived.

GLOSSARY:

1. In 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.
2. CIVIL WAR 1917-1922 By early 1918, a major civil war had broken out in Russia--only recently named the USSR--which is commonly known as the civil war between the ‘Reds’ and the ‘Whites’. The ‘Reds’ were the Bolshevik controlled Soviets. During this time the Bolsheviks changed their name to the Communist party. The ‘Whites’ were mostly Russian army units from the world war who were led by anti-Bolshevik officers. They were also joined by anti-Bolshevik volunteers and some Mensheviks and Social Revolutionaries. During this civil war, the Bolsheviks signed a separate peace with Germany and finally ended Russia's involvement with the world war. 8 to 13 mln people perished in the war. Up to 2 mln. people moved to other countries. Damage constituted over 50 billion rubles in gold, production rate reduced to 4-20% compared with 1913.
3. 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 day 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.
4. ‘zhydy’ – abusive nickname of Jews in the Soviet Union
5. ‘moskali’ - abusive nickname of Russians in Ukraine
6. Komsomol –Communist youth organization created by the Communist Party to make sure that the state would be in control of the ideological upbringing and spiritual development of the youth almost until the age of 30.
7. In 1920 an artificial famine was introduced in Ukraine that caused the death of millions of people. It was arranged in order to suppress the protesting peasants that did not want to join the collective farms. There was another dreadful forced famine in 1930-1934 in Ukraine. The authorities took away the last food products from the farmers. People were dying in the streets, whole villages became deserted. The authorities arranged this specifically to suppress the rebellious farmers that did not want to accept the Soviet power and join the collective farms.
8. SOVIET-FINNISH WAR 1939-40, the Soviet Union began the war on 30 November 1939 to take hold of the Karelian Isthmus. The red Army was stopped at the ‘Mannengeim line’. The League of Nations expelled the USSR from its members. In February-March 1940 the red Army broke through the Mannengeim line and reached Vyborg. On 12.3.1940 the Peace Treaty was signed in Moscow. According to this treaty the Karelian Isthmus and some other areas now belonged to the Soviet Union.
9. 22 June 1941 – memorable day for all Soviet people. It was the first day of the great Patriotic War when the Germans crossed the border of their country bringing the war to its terrain. 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 the German army had seized the Ukrainian Republic, besieged Leningrad, the Soviet Union's second largest city, and threatened Moscow itself. The Great Patriotic War, as the Soviet Union and then Russia have called that phase of World War II, thus began inauspiciously for the Soviet Union.
10. Non-aggression pact between Germany and the Soviet Union, which fall into history under name Molotov-Ribbentrop pactum. Engaged in a border war with Japan in the Far East and fearing the German advance in the west, the Soviet government in 1939 began secret negotiations for a nonaggression pact with Germany. In August 1939 it suddenly announced the conclusion of a Soviet-German pact of friendship and nonaggression. This pact contained a secret clause providing for the partition of Poland and for Soviet and German spheres of influence in Eastern Europe.
11. Anti-Semitic campaign initiated by J. Stalin against intellectuals: teachers, doctors and scientists.
12. SHOLEM ALEICHEM (real name – Shalom Nohumovich Rabinovich) (1859-1916), Jewish writer. He lived in Russia and moved to the USA in 1914. He wrote in about the life of Jews in Russia in Yiddish, Hebrew & Russian.

Vainer Lubov Biography

Lubov Wainer
Biography

Kiev, Ukraine, 2002

I was born in Zhytomir on 20 December 1911. I was the oldest daughter in the family of stonemason expert Leizer Gersh Broide. I was named Liba at birth, but for many years I’ve been called Lubov for the convenience of communication. Lubov is a Russian name and more customary in this area.

My father Leizer-Gersh Broide was born in the small Jewish town of Troyanov near Zhytomir in 1889. He was born in a common Jewish religious family that had many children. I don’t know my father mother’s name or anything about her family. She died in Troyanov in 1915 when she was 60 years old. I have never seen her. All I know is that she got married when she was 15, she was very religious and had 12 children. Only six of them survived. My father’s father Shaya, born in 1860, was a very religious and shy man too.

They lived in a small house that was always shiny clean on Friday. My grandmother covered her head with a clean shawl, lit candles and they all sat at the table. My grandfather said prayers. Yiddish was the only language they spoke. My grandfather took any job to provide for his family: he sewed and worked at the wood cutting facility, but the family still was very poor. All of their sons studied at the cheder – that was all my grandfather could afford. When they grew up they went to Zhytomir. It was easier to find a job in a bigger town.

My father’s older brother Shulim, born in 1880 resided in Khlebnaya street in Zhytomir. He worked at the woodworking factory. Woodworking and furniture industry was very developed in Zhytomir. I have dim memories of this uncle of mine. He had died before 1930 and I don’t know anything about his family. My father’s brother Iosif, born in 1891 was better off. He was selling timber. He lied in Zhytomir. He had two wives – both of them died. He had two sons: Aronchik and Izia. Izia perished at the front during the Great patriotic War. Aronchik returned home after the war. He was wounded at the front and came back home an invalid. He died from his wounds shortly after the war. My uncle Iosif died in 1977.

Two younger brothers of my father Ihl, born in 1892 and Srulik born in 1894 were shoemakers, I believe. During the famine of 1930s they moved to Kostyshev town (30 km from Zhytomir) and lived there. I don’t know what happened to them later.

My father’s sister Ratsia, born in 1895, was the youngest in the family. She got married and moved to Olevsk. She was a housewife. Her two daughters became doctors: Maya was an eye doctor and Asia – general physician. I met with them once after the war in Yevpatoria (Crimea) where they were residing. They are my cousins, but we never kept in touch. Aunt Ratsia died from cancer in Zhytomir in 1960.

All members of my father’s family treated each other nicely and supported each other in hard times. After my grandmother died Iosif took my grandfather Shaya to his home in Zhytomir. My grandfather died there during an epidemic in 1920.

My father was a stonemason in granite quarry near Zhytomir. A special sort of granite was crushed by a stone mill. My father made stone mills. It was hard work. Besides, stone mason workers fell ill with an occupational illness of miners - silicosis [lung disease – when the finest particles of stone get into lungs]. Father had this disease for many years.
​My mother Shendlia (nee Feldman) was born in 1891. Mother’s family came from Sarny. This town hidden in the woods and swamps of the Northern Polesie, was located within the boundaries of Jewish residential area. My mother’s mother died at childbirth in 1899. She died at 28, when my mother, her oldest daughter, was eight, giving birth to her youngest daughter Malka. She had 7 children. My grandfather Avrum became a widower.

My grandfather Avrum Feldman was born in 1865. He studied at cheder like all other boys in Sarny. My grandfather was a smart young man. He studied by himself and worked at the woodworking factory. It was a respectable work for that time. My grandfather had a brick house in the central street in Sarny not far from the synagogue where my grandfather had a seat of his own. After my grandmother died my grandfather was raising his children. He didn’t marry again. Malka’s wet-nurse, a poor Jewish woman that had a baby and a Jewish housemaid were living in the house, too. They spoke Yiddish at home, but my grandfather also knew Hebrew. My mother remembered her father praying with an ancient book in front of him. The children were not to bother him at that time. All of the boys: Shaya, born in 1892. Nyunia (1893), Marcus (1895) and Lyolia (1896) went to the cheder. Girls were educated at home. They had a Jewish teacher that was teaching them to read and write in Yiddish and Russian. The girls were learning housekeeping, cooking and sewing. The family was fond of music and they had a teacher of music coming to teach the boys to play the violin and piano, (they had an old piano left to them by some relatives). Mother was very talented. She was present at her brothers’ classes and learned notes and to play the violin. She never parted with her violin since then, and now my son (he is a violinist) has my mother’s violin.

My mother’s older brother Shaya became a violinist and was a teacher at the music school in Zhytomir. Sarny is in 50 km from Zhytomir. During the war she was in evacuation in Cheliabinsk (Ural) with our family. The frosts were severe there. Once he went to the forest to pick up some wood and froze to death. Other people found him in the forest. We grieved a lot after him. This happened in winter 1942. He didn’t have a family.

My mother’s brother Nyunia also became a violinist, he perished in Lvov in 1941 when fascists occupied the town. He wasn’t married. Lvov was in a foreign country before 1939 and we didn’t know anything about his life.

Marcus, her next brother became a flutist. He played in orchestras at opera theaters in many towns. His Jewish wife Musia was a housewife. Their daughter Maya, born in 1937 resides in Minsk. She was a musician and is retired now. Before the war Uncle Marcus got a job in the orchestra of the theater in Cheliabinsk. All members of the family were staying with him in Cheliabinsk. In the last years of his life Uncle Marcus worked as a flutist in the Minsk Opera Theater. He died in Minsk in 1983.

My mother’s younger brother Lyolia, a dental mechanic, perished in Sarny in 1941. Germans shot all Jewish population of the town. That’s all I know about him.
When in 1909 my mother got married and moved to Zhytomir her younger sisters Hana and Malka were growing in our family. It was a tradition with Jewish families that older children were raising the younger ones. Malka got married when I was 9 or 10 years old. Her husband name was Plotnik. It was a hard period of 1920s, but Malka had a traditional Jewish wedding.

My mother, her sisters and neighbors were cooking for a few days for the wedding: tsymes (carrots with onions and prunes), sweet and sour stew, stuffed fish and radish with goose fat, strudels and lekah (big honey cakes). Mother made a dress for Malka from white flowered calico with gauze frills. The fiancé came to the wedding to Zhytomir from Sarny where he was working at the woodcutting factory. He was young and handsome. He was wearing a silk shining kipah on his curly hair. I was staying close to the bride. When the rabbi was leading the bride and bridegroom to the huppah the people were rejoicing and singing. Mother and her brothers were playing the violins and flute. My grandfather Avrum was ill and couldn’t attend the wedding. After the wedding Malka and her husband went to his parents in Sarny. After WWI Sarny belonged to Poland. Therefore, it was a foreign country and I didn’t see Malka any more. Malka, her husband and two children were shot in Sarny in 1941.

My mother’s sister Hana, born in 1897, was a housewife. Her husband Isaak worked as a locksmith at the plant. He perished in 1941, in the first days of the Great Patriotic War. Hana’s son Shura, born in 1925, worked at Cheliabinsk aviation plant. He was 16 and went to the front as a volunteer. During the war my aunt was in evacuation in Cheliabinsk with us. When Aunt Hana got to know that he was severely wounded and stayed in hospital in Tbilissi she went to see him there. Shura got well and entered law department at the University after the war. He got a diploma and worked as lawyer. He married a Jewish girl and they had two sons. Hana stayed with them in Tbilissi. We corresponded with them all this time. Shura visited us. Aunt Hana died in Tbilissi in 1985.

My parents met in Zhytomir. It was a tradition then that young people were introduced to one another by “shathine” – matchmakers. My father was a stonemason and Mother lived in Sarny. Her father took her to Zhytomir, following the recommendation of a matchmaker, to introduce her to the fiancé. They liked each other and had a traditional Jewish wedding in 1909. I believe, they had a wedding quite like the one of Hana that I attended. After their wedding my parents rented an apartment in Zhytomir. My father went on working and Mother was a housewife.

My parents had three children. I am the oldest one, born in 1911. My brother Yakov (Yankel) was born in 1913. He didn’t go to cheder. Cheder was closed in 1922. My brother studied at the Jewish secondary school in Zhytomir, then he finished a commercial college, but decided to get another profession and entered Kiev Construction Institute. He studied two years, but the family couldn’t afford to continue his studies. Yakov quit the Institute and went to work. He worked at the construction materials factory where he was promoted from a worker to shop supervisor. He spent so much time at work and was so devoted to it that he even didn’t get married. During the war he went to the front. After he returned he went to his pervious work at the factory. At one time he even lived at the factory. Yakov visited me on all Jewish holidays, and we celebrated them together. He wasn’t religious, but every occasion was good to get together and recall our parents and childhood. My brother Yakov died in Kiev in 2000. We were always friends and his death was a huge loss for me.

My younger brother Alexandr was born in 1924. He studied at an Ukrainian school in Zhytomir. Jewish schools had been closed. Later he studied at law department of Kiev University by correspondence. He worked as a legal adviser in Dovbush (Zhytomir region) for many years. He married Bronia, a Jewish woman. In 1952 his daughter Larissa was born and in 1953 he had another daughter – Zhanna. Both of them graduated from Kiev Polytechnic Institute. In the early 1980s they moved to Canada and then to Chicago (USA). My brother Alexandr died in 2000. His wife still calls me from Chicago on Jewish holidays. Every now and then my nieces call me. There is no one left to talk about our childhood and life in Zhytomir.

When we lived in Zhytomir we used to have family gatherings on holidays and every Friday. Mother lit candles and laid the table to celebrate Sabbath. Somebody said a prayer. We, children, listened to the prayer after the first star appeared in the sky (Father always knew the exact time), had dinner and went to another room. The adults remained at the table having their discussions. There was nothing special at the table. We were poor and couldn’t afford much. But I wouldn’t say that my parents were religious. However, we always celebrated Pesach at the festive table with fancy dishes. We always had matsa at Pesach. I even remember our mortar (ferfeleh) where we crushed matsa. Mother made bakeries from matsa flour that were all kosher food, of course. At Yom-Kipur we didn’t eat anything and prayed. Father and Mother went to the synagogue. Father had a thales. He put it on to pray. I don’t remember whether any other holidays were celebrated in the family. I went to the synagogue with Mother. I didn’t pray there, I was just looking around. It was a small beautiful synagogue.

Zhytomir was the town of Polish, Russian, Ukrainian and Jewish population. We were treated nicely. In our neighborhood we were the only Jewish family, but we never heard a word of abuse from anybody. We treated people nicely. People liked Father and got along well with other people. I grew up in that neighborhood and we never had any problems. There were fearful moments when Petlura soldiers broke into the house. We stayed quietly in the apartment and didn’t open the door when they were knocking. Red army was no better. They stole Father’s boots once. They were scoundrels in those armies.
We had many Jewish books in Yiddish: Sholem Alechem, Mendele Moishe Sphorim, Itshak Perets, etc. We spoke Yiddish at home, but we knew Russian well. Father and Mother read a lot. I was fond of reading, I can still read and write in Yiddish. My children don’t know Yiddish, though. They never took any interest in it. When I say something in Yiddish they ask me to translate. It’s a pity.

We lived in a house in Kashperoskaya street. I don’t remember the house or furniture – they must have been plain. There was a back entrance to the kitchen. We had a big samovar. I remember I cleaned it with a brick. Mother cooked delicious stews and broth on the stove. The food was more delicious than now when it’s cooked on gas. Mother baked delicious rolls and strudels. Unfortunately, we only had delicious food at Pesach and children’s birthdays. We were having a hard time, because Father was ill, and he couldn’t work. Our relatives could provide no assistance to us – they were poor. We didn’t have any money and had to eat cow’s food – makukha. I had a miserable childhood. We were poor and it was the time of the civil war (1916-1919) and desolation.

I went to school in 1918. We had a very good Jewish school and the children were nice. We didn’t celebrate Jewish holidays at school, as we celebrated Soviet holidays: the October revolution day, 1st of May – Labor Day, the Commune of Paris Day – 18 March. We got together at school to go to the parade singing revolutionary songs and carrying red flags. I finished school in 1926. We could speak and write in Yiddish and studied all subjects in Yiddish. It was formally called a Jewish school and studying subjects in Yiddish was probably the only aspect that made it Jewish. I never was a pioneer and never went to pioneer camps. I attended a ballet studio and was very fond of it. It was a free ballet studio and our ballet master was Schagunsky. We performed at concerts in clubs, schools and factories. I danced “Chardash” of Monty, a Hungarian dances. After school I went to the Jewish Pedagogical College in Zhytomir. I finished it with the diploma of pre-school tutor.

I was learning to play the piano at one time. We had an old piano at the apartment. Rabinovich, a Jew, was my music teacher. But it didn’t last long. My father was ill and the family couldn’t afford to teach me any longer. I went to work at the private stocking shop to support my family when I was 15 years old. I took some work home: we were rubbing paraffin into the stockings and ironing them. I bought a blue sweater for the first money that I earned. I was happy. I was young and managed a lot.

In the evening we went to the Jewish club. We were very fond of the “Blue Blouse” performances [popular in the 1920s amateur propagandistic performances, ridiculing the bourgeois imperialists and our own drawbacks]. Our director Presman was a very talented young actor. Later he moved to Kiev and became a famous actor at the musical comedy theater, We performed in Russian and Yiddish and sang “We are sinebluzniki (blue blouse people), we are not profsoyuzniki (trade union people), we aren’t fine fellows, we are just screws of a great joint of all working people land” I continued to attend the ballet studio and I was fond of the ballroom dances. In this dance club I met my future husband, Mordko Shaya-Elevich Wainer, a Jew. Mordko was very handsome.

My husband was born in May 1911 too. His father Shaya Elevich, a shoemaker, lived in Berdichevskaya street in Zhytomir. Their family was rather wealthy and moderately religious. His mother Sura-Leya, a Jew, died from a disease in 1920. I never saw her. They had three sons: Grisha, Efim and Mordko. All 3 sons of this shoemaker from Zhytomir were very handsome, slim and tall. They finished the Jewish secondary school and became sailors. Grisha was promoted to high ranks. he died in Sevastopol in 1968. Efim served at the Pacific Ocean fleet. We don’t know what happened to him.

We fell in love at first sight. We liked each other. We met for two years and then got married in 1928. Any traditional wedding was out of the question at that time of struggle against religion. Mordko was a Komsomol activist and atheist and we believed traditional Jewish weddings to be vestige of the past. Mordko finished the college on the use of land in Zhytomir and was sent to work in Smela. I moved there, too, and worked at a Russian kindergarten. We rented a small room in a house. Our landlords were religious Jews. Once I spoiled their borsch (beetroot soup). I didn’t like cooking. They made borsch at Pesach and I stirred it with other than Pesach spoon. The landlady was angry and made a scandal.

We stayed in Smela for less than a year. My husband was recruited to the army in 1930 and sent to the Navy in Kronshtadt [a Navy base on an island near Petersburg]. The Navy was in need of educated people and my husband was sent to take an officer training course. He became a professional sailor. I joined him in Kronshtadt. We lived in 12, Flotskaya street. Only commanding officers lived there. We lived in the house with a long corridor and one-room apartments on both sides of it. It was very clean, one could sleep on this floor, so clean it was. There was a huge common kitchen with two stoves. We had little furniture: an iron bed, a table, four chairs, a wardrobe and a book stand. All neighbors were friends. We were young and optimistic and we trusted the Soviet power. My husband’s service lasted four years there. I worked as a teacher at the kindergarten for officers’ children. This was a challenging work, because these were the children of the commandment. The children were raised to be devoted to the Soviet power. We were convincing them that our socialist Motherland was the best in the world. New Year celebration was canceled as vestige of the past, but we celebrated Soviet holidays with great enthusiasm. The working day of a teacher lasted four and a half hours. When it was time for the children to take their afternoon sleep we left to be replaced with nurses that came in to take care of the children. I had lunch in the kindergarten. After work I went to see my husband at the military unit. My husband was a very respectable man. He was artillery lieutenant. I usually take the route across Yakornaya square. The Red Navy military were marching and singing a very popular song. These were my happy times of such carefree life.

I didn’t feel that I was a Jew. I even received a bonus for excellent performance and I went to the resort Golaya Pristan near Kherson for the first time in my life.

In 1934 the Dnieper Navy Fleet was established in Kiev. 11 families were sent to reside in Kiev. We were among them. We lived in Krasnaya square at Podol not far from the Dnieper. We lived in the hostel for about 300 people that was specifically built for the families of Navy military. Each family had one room to live and there was a common kitchen on each floor. We were living like a family there. The Fleet commandment also lived there. There was a club for commanding officers and I got a job of a cashier there. I also attended an amateur dance group. We had beautiful parties. In 1937 I went to work at the kindergarten of our Fleet. I loved children and they liked me a lot. Children always know whether they are loved.

There were few Jewish commanding officers. I didn’t quite identify myself as a Jew, but I had an urge for observing Jewish traditions. I loved Jewish holidays. I liked matsa and all delicacies that could be made from matsa. I always fasted at Yom-Kipur. I remembered the dates from the time when they were celebrated at my parents’ home. I went to the synagogue in Podol. I didn’t tell anybody that I went there. It was my own business. Only my husband knew about it. If it became public knowledge, my husband and I could be fired. I used to stand there a whole day when I was praying. I went to the second floor and stayed there until evening – this was mandatory for me. Judgment Day is a big holiday for us and I prayed for my loved ones: for the living and for the dead.

​I got pregnant in 1935 but I fell ill with pneumonia, had a cough that resulted in miscarriage. In 1938 our son Arnold was born. My mother came from Zhytomir and told me that it was a Jewish tradition to name babies in honor of close deceased relatives. She wanted it to be Avraam, but this wasn’t a popular name at our time and we decided to have one letter “A” left in the name. I called my son Alek. Well, there was no anti-Semitism and nobody persecuted or teased us, but we tried to keep quiet about our being Jews. We were inspired by the idea of internationalism and equality. All nations were equal in the Soviet Union. After our son was born we received two rooms in a communal apartment in Pechersk, a very good neighborhood in Kiev. There were 8 neighbors in this apartment, and we shared a kitchen, a bathroom and a toilet. We were always helping and supporting each other and getting along well. Before the war there were problems with food supplies in Kiev. We received rationed food at work, and I shared it with our neighbors. There were people of different nationalities, but we didn’t care. If I had to hurry to work in the morning and was cooking a meal on the stove, my neighbor would have it done for me. She couldn’t cook and I was teaching her to make dumplings. We lived a nice life and had parties. I looked after her children when she went out.

It was an alarming period in the late 1940s when those arrests began. We believed the Soviet power and everything that we were told: that there were enemies and spies around, that we had to be watchful and that our Soviet Motherland was the best in the world. I remember Chief of Headquarters had a Greek wife. They said that she was against the Soviet power and a spy. Both of them vanished later. However, we were not involved in any of these processes.

My husband was away for six months. He was an artillery man and then commander of the ship. They sailed along the Dnieper, to the Black Sea and Danube. In 1941 when the war began my husband was on one his trips. We couldn’t believe that it was a war. I don’t remember where I was when the shooting began. I wasn’t afraid of bombings. I thought it would soon be all over and we would win. There was a radio in our kitchen and we listened to the news. I knew about the war in Europe but we didn’t believe that this nightmare would ever happen to us. There was an air-raid shelter in our building where we were hiding. In July 1941 my son and I left Kiev on a boat. Kiev was constantly bombed and it was dangerous to stay there. We came to Dnepropetrovsk and there was a heavy bombing there. I don’t remember how I got to Kharkov. In Kharkov we stayed three days at the railway station waiting for a train. I wanted to get to Cheliabinsk, because my mother’s brother Marcus was there. He was a flutist at the Opera theater. Our whole family arrived there in due time.

Mother and Father and Sasha lived in Zhytomir before the war. Father was very ill when the war began. Mother wanted to send their youngest son to evacuation with Hana and her family. When they came to the railway station the train that they were supposed to board was destroyed by bombing. They were waiting for another train, when it occurred to Sasha that he couldn’t leave his parents. He walked home and told them that he wasn’t going away without them. Mother packed up, they went out and got a horse-driven cart to take Father to the railway station on it. My Mother’s sister Hana was still at the station. They went to the town of Kalach near Stalingrad. Mother went to work at the canteen: she was washing dishes. Her sister also went to work. At the beginning of 1942 the front was coming near Stalingrad. I sent my parents a permit from the military office to come to Cheliabinsk and they arrived. They all came: Mother, Father, Sasha, and my mother’s sister with her son Shura.
I had no news from my husband for a long time. In December 1941 I found out that the Fleet was encircled by Germans in September 1941. Some of the crew perished in the encirclement and the rest of them were captured. They were taken across Kiev to the Babiy Yar and shot. Then I understood that my husband had perished. Somebody told me after the war that some of my acquaintances saw my husband Mordko Wainer in the street when the captives were convoyed to the Babiy Yar. And he never knew that we had another son.

At first we lived in two small rooms in Cheliabinsk. We slept on the floor and turned by at the command. Then I received a room (6 square meters) as a widow of the officer that perished at the front. People in the Ural were sharing their last piece of bread with us. My second son Lyonia was born in Cheliabinsk in December 1941. I remember the hospital and remember how Mother and I walked there. My first delivery was very difficult and lasted four days. It was different with Lyonia. Soon after he was born I joined the Ural military folk dance group. It was equal to service in the army and I was receiving rationed food. I received 700 grams of bread, more than workers and clerks. So, I was working and Father and Mother were taking care of the children. I was away on tours all the time. We performed at hospitals, plants and military units. We went across the Ural, Western Siberia and even Kazakhstan. Our director was Shwartsman, a Jew.

I danced folk dances and was a soloist at this ensemble. Kiev musical comedy theater was in evacuation in Cheliabinsk and we borrowed gorgeous costumes from them. We were working 10 hours a day, giving concerts to the wounded military in hospitals all over the Ural. We were very popular. We had a difficult life, what I was earning wasn’t enough. Father got better and went to work at a vitamin plant. He was a worker there. Employees didn’t get any vitamins –they were for the front, but they received some liquid vitamin wastes. He bought it home once in two weeks and we drank the liquid. It became easier when America began to provide aid [in 1942 the Soviet army was receiving aid: food, equipment and clothing]. We received some food products, tinned food and even clothes.

When the war was over I was offered to stay at the ensemble in Cheliabinsk, but I was missing Kiev and home. Besides, the climate in Cheliabinsk is unfavorable – frosts of down to 45°С. I was often ill. In 1945, after the war, we returned to Kiev. I don’t remember exactly how long the trip lasted, but it must have been longer than a week. Father, Mother, my two children and I went to Kiev on a freight train. That my husband perished at the front gave me the right to claim for our apartment. I went to the military office and obtained a permit for residence. I got back one room and another room was occupied by a Russian family. They loved our Lyonia and we lived like one family for a year. Later they received an apartment and moved out. Central heating at this apartment was out of order and we only had a stove (burzhuika) to heat it.

I was trying to go on dancing at the House of Officers ballet group, but I failed. I was 35 already and I went to work at the kindergarten. I liked this work, I liked the children and I managed well at my work. Children studied poems and songs about Stalin and Lenin at the kindergarten. There were Ukrainian and Jewish children at the kindergarten. But we never touched upon the issue of nationality - never! Although it was hard and challenging work and it didn’t pay well. I played the piano a little, I danced and I knew how to deal with children. Lyonia also went to the kindergarten, not the one where I worked. My younger son Lyonia was a very nice and obedient child, very different from Arnold.

My older son Arnold went to a Russian secondary school. Arnold was a difficult child, too nervous. He always made one step forward and 10 steps backwards. But he could get along with people. He didn’t want to study and went to work at the conveyor at the shoe factory after the 7th form at school. Later he went to the upper secondary evening school and finished it. He worked at the factory for ten years and then he went to the shop equipment factory that manufactured refrigerators, vending machines, etc. He was a worker, but once there was a situation that the factory stopped due to lack of supplies.
Their logistics manager couldn’t cope with the situation and my son brought them the supplies that they needed. My son was transferred to the logistics department.

But then, in order to get what he needed he had to drink with these people. My son took to drinking. There were scandals at home. He liked arranging things – it was what he was fond of. We, Jews, have a word “shwitsar” – it means somebody quick-minded and smart about arranging things and finding the shortest ways to have them done. His wife Beba, a Jew, born in Kiev in 1942 was a teacher of Russian primary school. 10 years ago his wife Beba insisted on moving to Canada. Beba had relatives there. In Canada Arnold works at the furniture factory. His employers value him high and he gave up drinking. Beba is a housewife. Their daughter Alexandra, born in Kiev 1976 finished a business college and works as an economist for «Hewlett Packard». My sons didn’t observe any Jewish traditions. They grew up as atheists and took no interest in the Jewish traditions.

There was a barber’s in the House of Officers. I took my boys to have their hair cut. While they were at the barber’s I found out that there was a music school there. I took my boys for audition. It lasted about half an hour. The teachers said to me ‘Well, your older son shall be an engineer and your younger one has a perfect ear – he will play the violin”. He was 5. He was granted free attendance at the music school. He played at the smallest violin and he even participated in a concert at the Palace of pioneers.

He was such a great boy! He was very assiduous boy: a Russian secondary school (they also studied Ukrainian, but Yiddish wasn’t taught in the Soviet Union at that time) and music school. We led a modest life, but we managed all right. Father was working at the silk factory and was well-respected. We lived at the communal apartment. There were two other families in this apartment, but we never had any conflicts with them.

My parents and I went to the synagogue at Podol at Yom-Kipur. Mother and I were fasting, but Father didn’t. He had health problems and he had to eat. But Mother and I had to stand outside the synagogue (we had no place inside and we were just listening). Sometimes we went upstairs to mix up with other Jews. The children didn’t go to the synagogue. They were pioneers and pioneers (young communists) didn’t attend any religious institutions. Besides, they didn’t believe in God. My children didn’t know Yiddish, but I spoke Yiddish with Father and Mother. My children didn’t show any interest in Yiddish.
In 1953 when the radio announced that Stalin died I cried a lot, but didn’t recall him afterward. We never discussed anything related to politics in the family – we were far from it. Father was working hard and Mother was very busy with the housework and children. We were happy to have had dinner and thanked God that we had a place to live. We cared not about policy.

We faced no anti-Semitism. Anti-Semitism has to do with envy, and there was nothing to envy about us. Father was a worker and I was a teacher at the kindergarten. Parents of my children in the kindergarten treated me with respect, because they knew my good attitude towards their children.

In 1954 my parents died one after another. Father was a very ill man due to his work as stone mason. We buried him at the Kurenyovka Jewish cemetery. We invited an old man from the synagogue to say Kaddish (sepulchral prayer). Father was a very nice and kind man and many colleagues – Russian, Ukrainian, Jewish – came to bid their farewell. In half a year my mother died from infarction. We were alone now that my parents were gone.

Life was improving and I wanted to get married. Matchmakers shathene [Jewish women that were arranging introductions among Jews. They received money if introductions developed into a romance] (during the Soviet times they worked, but they gave their contact numbers and addresses to the people they knew well to keep this information confidential) introduced me to men, but when they heard that I had two sons, they refused from me. I even met a tailor and we met few times. But he turned out to be very greedy and I thought that my children couldn’t be happy with him.

In 1964 the sister of my older brother’s wife mentioned to me that she was courted by a man. Once I needed to see her to ask advice and decided to go and see her. She worked at a canteen. When I came she was sitting at the table with a man and they were having a meal. I felt somewhat uncomfortable. He was an accountant at the canteen and was helping to learn to do her work. He ran to me to take my coat and have me join them. I said that I was in a hurry, because I noticed that she was nervous. He asked me “Do you want to get married?” I replied “yes, and who doesn’t?” and left. I was home when the phone rang. He was calling “But you want to get married and I know a young man that will marry you with the children. Please come to Shevchenko Blvd. now, we’ll be waiting for you”. Well, I went there. He was waiting alone. I asked him where my cavalier was and he said that it was him. “What do you mean – you?” He said “Yes, I liked you a lot. I met with Rita, but I never made any promises to her. I was just helping her with her work”. We began to meet and I married him in 1968. Rita understood that we were in love and didn’t interfere.

His name was Mihail Abramovich Shkolnik, a Jew. He was born in Nemirov, Vinnitsa region, in 1908. His parents and younger sister Riva perished in 1941 when Nemirov was occupied by fascists. He was chief accountant at the pharmacy department. He had a higher education. He finished Kiev Institute of Economy. He had two grown up daughters. His wife Fira, a Jew, died from cancer in 1962. He invited me to meet his children and they liked me, but they didn’t want their father to get married. That was because he was giving them all the money he earned. So we went on seeing each other for a year. My boys liked him. Once my doorbell rang. I opened the door and saw him with his suitcase “I’m tired of it all. I have come to stay”. We lived in a civil marriage for few years and then we had a civil ceremony.
He was a serious man. He lost one kidney at the front and was shell-shocked many times. He was at the front for the first to the last day of the war. He was a very good specialist in accounting and a very developed man. He liked theater and was fond of music. He liked to attend lectures and he marched in step with life. I enjoyed being together with him. I knew that he had health problems and took very good care of him. He died in 1992.

Lyonia finished music school and entered music college named after Gluier. After the college he was summoned to come to the registry office as he was supposed to go to the army. They sent him to the navy division to become a military sailor. I went to the commissar to ask him to send Lyonia to an orchestra, because he was a musician. But that commissar got angry with me and said that Lyonia would serve where he was sent. They even shaved his hair. We went home, all out and down, and were going past the House of Officers and Kiev military dance ensemble rehearsing. Musicians know each other. They reported Lyonia’s situation to their commanding officer. This officer told Lyonia to not go to the military office again and that they would make all necessary arrangements. They did and Lyonia came to serve at Kiev dance ensemble and choir. He served three years. Afterward he was selected to play at the orchestra of Ballet on ice theater. He played there 15 years. They toured a lot and he went to Czechoslovakia, Finland, etc. He fell ill when he was 26. He often had anginas with high fever. Doctors insisting on operating on his tonsils and he went to hospital. He was very sensitive and afraid of blood. He was too delicate. They had his tonsils removed and at night he started bleeding from his throat. He got so scared that he lost his mind and was sent to the Pavlov mental hospital. He had schizophrenia, this terrible disease that cannot be cured. medications can only suppress it a little. In 10 years the orchestra of the ballet on ice was disbanded and Lyonia was selected to play at the Opera studio at the Conservatory. He has worked there for 20 years. They know that he is ill and treat him nicely. When Lyonia doesn’t feel well they let him go home.

In 1980 Lyonia met Sofa, a Jewish woman. She had a small daughter. They got married. There is no peace with this marriage. Sofa does not always care for Lyonia. Her daughter grew up. Got married, had two daughters and moved to Israel with her family. Sofa wants to go there, too, but Lyonia cannot change the climate or his way of life so dramatically.

I’ve never been in Israel, but I always watch what is going on there. We cannot move there, though. Firstly, because we don’t know the language. It is a terrible feeling when people say something and you do not understand a word. The climate there is different, and I am 90 already.

I’ve always remembered that I’m a Jew, but nobody ever called me zhydovka. No, I was once. I was going on a bus, when a man and a woman got into the bus at a stop. He approached me and said “Zhydovka, get up!” This happened some time in 1980s when a number of Jews were leaving for Israel. I thought he was addressing someone else. He said “Haika (“haika” is an abusive slang name originating from a customary Jewish name “Haya”), get up. You have no place here. You must live in Israel”. I raised my voice at him saying “You have no right to say so. I live where I want to”. But I got off the train to get rid of him. I was hurt that the bus was full, but nobody spoke for me. I was a stranger in my country for the first time in my life.

I have meals at the synagogue now. We are a family there. There are Jews that even don’t know Yiddish. But I communicate in Yiddish with few people. We even sing songs when we enter the canteen. I like Yiddish. Every second month we go to Hesed. Hesed is a Jewish home where we get a wonderful reception and a lot of attention. We attend concerts and lectures there. We enjoy our visits. Our body and soul rest when we are among our people. It is very interesting to be there. I don’t know what I would do if it were not for the canteen and Hesed. I have a small pension and the synagogue and Hesed provide big support to us.

Natalia Zilberman Biography

NATALIA ZILBERMAN
UKRAINE
KIEV
Interviewer: Inna Zlotnik

Natalia Zilberman lives in a two-room apartment in Pushkinskaya Street in the center of Kiev.
She is a tall stately woman with thick gray hair and gray eyes. She must have been beautiful. She can only move in her apartment with a go-cart. She has a poor sight and ear. She is a very tiny lady with a nice hairdo.
She has two spacious rooms in her apartment. There is a Becker piano in the living room (she keeps photos of her relatives and old statues on it). In the middle of the room there is an old pre-revolutionary mirror in a black frame. She has brought the piano and mirror from Nemirov. On the walls there are big heavily framed pictures of the beginning of the 20th century. The pictures were brought from Uglich after Naum, her mother’s brother, died. Natalia likes playing the piano. There are professional and classic Russian and foreign in Yiddish on her bookshelves. She leased her 2nd room to a girl.

My grandfather on my father’s side Haim Milimevker was a kohen. This is what my father told me. Kohen is descendant of the ancient priestly class, the progeny of Aaron. He was born in Lutsk in 1849 and lived there his whole life. Lutsk belonged to Russia at that time. In ancient times it was occupied by Lithuanian lords and later – by Poland. The population in Lutsk was Polish, Lithuanian, Jewish, Ukrainian and Russian. In the middle of XIX century the majority of the population in Lutsk was Jewish. Jews were involved in commerce and handicrafts. My grandfather finished cheder and that was all education he could afford. He became a mechanic: he was very handy and could repair or fix items that broke in the factory or at the mill. He had a horse and a cart and went to where his services were required. He was a kohen and this gave him the right to be the first to come near the Torah. My father told me that my grandfather was very religious. They observed all Jewish traditions in his family: followed the kashrut and celebrated all Jewish holidays and Shabbat, fasted at Yom Kippur (only small children were released from this duty). Boys in the family studied at cheder. On Saturday and on holidays parents and boys went to synagogue.

My grandmother on my father’s side Ginda Milimevker was born to a poor family in Lutsk in 1850s. My grandparents had 7 children. My father Duvid Milimevker was the oldest. He was born in 1878. At 3 he went to cheder. In autumn or winter there was a carrier that carried kids to the cheder on his back and front and on the sides. It wasn’t too far – just few blocks.
Then came the sisters: Manya, born in 1881 and Revekka, born in 1882. They were pretty girls. They had a teacher teaching them at home. When Revekka grew a little older a neighbor boy fell in love with her, but Revekka didn’t care about him. In some time this boy’s uncle took the boy to the US. The girls were growing up pretty and smart. Some time later a student of law settled down in the neighborhood. He pad addresses to Revekka and she fell in love with him, but he switched to Manya all of a sudden. Revekka felt hurt. She wrote to the boy in America that was in love with her. He sent her money for the ticket and she moved to America. They got married and lived a very happy life. They have a daughter Silva. They lived in Toledo and then moved to Los Angeles. Manya married the lawyer and they had 4 children: two sons – Pepo and Emil and two daughters – Anka and Ruzia. Manya’s husband died of typhoid when he was still young. Manya and her children lived in Lutsk. This was Poland in 1920s and we couldn’t see each other. My father used to send his mother and Manya 25 rubles every month.

In 1884 my father’s brother Mihel was born and in two years – Yankel. They both finished cheder. Michel was good at music, he sang in the choir at the synagogue and became a violinist. He had a wife Malka and two sons: Haim and Naum. Yankel was very handy and became a mechanic. He had a wife and 2 children: Anna and Aron. Michel and Yankel lived in Lutsk. In the first days of the war (1941) they were all killed by Germans and so was grandmother Ginda.

My father’s youngest brother Boris was born in 1888. He finished cheder, but his parents couldn’t afford to pay for his further education. My father worked as dentist in Nemirov at that time. He took his brother and hired a teacher for him. In two years’ time he passed exams for a complete course of grammar school. My father taught him dentistry and he passed exams for this profession. Later Boris got married and moved to Saratov with his family. He had two sons: Efim and Jacob. In Saratov he worked as deputy director of dentist school for over 30 years.

Only my father’s brother Boris survived the war. He died in Saratov in 1964. His younger son Jacob lives in Volgograd. He is a construction engineer. His wife is Russian. Their daughter is a doctor. Pepo, Manya, Anka and Ruzia evacuated to Middle East during the war. They were in the Anders army (Editor’s note: Polish army), then moved to Israel and took their part in the establishment of Israel in 1948. After the war Anka’s friend from New York invited her to visit her in the US. Anka went and got married there. I’ve seen the photo of Anka on her wedding at the shore of an ocean. At 43 she had a daughter. At a time I corresponded with them – they wrote me in English, but then we stopped writing letters somehow. Anka gave our address to Ruzia and Ruzia invited us to Israel. But we didn’t go and in 1992 she visited us and stayed two weeks. Pepo lived in Tel-Aviv after the war. We corresponded with him. Pepo died in Tel-Aviv in 1992. My father’s youngest sister Basia was born in 1890. She was a very pretty and cheerful girl, but she died of diphtheria at 3.

In 1891 when my father was 13 he had a Barmitzva. In a month after the ritual his father died of pneumonia at the age of 42. My father was the oldest and had to provide for the family. He took all kinds of jobs to earn for his family. He was a porter, baker, fireman. Later he finished grammar school in Lutsk and then – dentist school at Moscow University. In 1901 my father went to Nemirov and became assistant dentist. At the beginning of XIX century Nemirov belonged to Poland and was residence of Bratzlav khasids. At the end of XIX century the town joined Russia and became part of restricted residential area. There was Polish, Ukrainian and Russian population, but the majority of it was Jewish. There were several synagogues and a Christian church in this town. The Jewish population consisted of tradesmen and handicraftsmen. They owned stores and shop located mainly in their own houses. They bought food products from farmers.

In 1903 my father met my mother. The two of them were waiting for a train at the station. They chatted a little and then exchanged addresses. They wrote letters to one another and in 1904 гthey got married. My parents didn’t tell me any details, but I believe they had a traditional Jewish wedding. It couldn’t have been otherwise at that time.

My mother Anna Milimevker -nee Gologorskaya - was born in Kamenets-Podolskiy, Russia, in 1880. In the end of ХІХ century Kamenets-Podolskiy was one of the khasid centers. It was a bigger town for its time. There were big stores, churches, synagogues, a big theater and a market where on Sunday farmers from the surrounding villages brought their products. Jews constituted almost half of the population of the town. They were involved in commerce and handicrafts. My mother’s father Yankel Gologorskiy was born in Kamenets-Podolskiy in 1838. He was a merchant, but he died when he was young and the family became very poor. My grandmother Gitl Gologorskaya (nee Shor) was born in Berdichev in 1844. The Shors owned all leather industry in Ukraine. Berdichev was a big agricultural trade center. Jews were also involved in handicrafts. My grandmother got married to Gologorskiy when she was 17.

Their older daughter Lisa was born in 1862. Lisa finished grammar school and entered the conservatory in Petersburg. Her husband Shymon came from Ekaterinoslav. They moved to Ekaterinoslav in the end of ХІХ century. Lisa died in 1939. They didn’t have any children.

In 1864 Menashe was born. He finished cheder and grammar school and studied at the Faculty of Technology in Petersburg University. At 21 he fell ill with galloping consumption and died in Petersburg in 1885. Joseph, two years younger than Menashe, also finished cheder and grammar school. He graduated from Medical faculty of Petersburg University and worked as a doctor in Tarascha. He was married and had two daughters: Milia and Lisa. There was another child next to Joseph that died in infantry. In 1870 Clara was born. She finished grammar school and dentist school in Warsaw. She married Joseph Gutberts, a dentist, and they moved to Tula. Clara had two sons: Jacob and Michael. Her husband died soon and never remarried. She worked as a dentist in Tula.

After Clara came Aron born in 1874. He had spinal tuberculosis and had to stay in a special bed for many years. By 22 he passed exams for a grammar school. At that time my mother also finished grammar school and wanted to continue her studies in Switzerland, but her family couldn’t afford it. She gave private classes to other students for 5 golden rubles per class. She worked so for 3 years. When she saved a sufficient amount her mother told her to share it with Aron, because he needed a profession to provide for himself. Anna obeyed and went to Warsaw with Aron where they both finished a dentist school. After finishing it Aron fell very ill and his brother Joseph took him to Tarascha to look after him. Aron died in 1912.

The next after Aron was Naum born in 1877. He finished cheder and grammar school. Then he finished dentist school in Warsaw, got married and went to Uglich. He was a very rich man. He had two houses richly furnished, very expensive dish sets and good pictures. He died in Uglich in 1961. My mother Anna was the youngest. Only Clara and Naum of all mother’s brothers and sisters survived the war. Joseph perished in Tarascha during the Holocaust. Lisa died in Ekaterinoslav in 1939.

My mother’s family was very close. They always supported one another and older children took care of the younger ones. In that way they managed to get good education and professions.
My grandmother Gitl observed all Jewish traditions. They spoke Yiddish in the family. My mother told me that grandmother went to synagogue with the children, lit candles and celebrated Shabbat with the children. My mother remembered the ritual of Barmitzva for Naum. All brothers but Aron finished cheder. Joseph was teaching Aron. Grandmother and older children fasted at Yom Kippur. I didn’t ask my mother about any details. I grew up an atheist and wasn’t interested in such description.

When my parents got married in 1904 my mother moved to Nemirov, with grandmother. All other children had their own life. Only my mother stayed with grandmother who lived with them until her death in 1916. My father lived and worked as dentist in Nemirov. My father rented half a building in Lipkoskaya Street near the cathedral. My parents worked as dentists and bought a house in aristocratic neighborhood in 1913. The street was lined with lime trees that spread wonderful odor when they were blooming in the end of June.

I was born on 20 October 1918. My parents had 3 boy babies before me that all died at birth. My mother was 38 and my father was 40 when I was born. They were eager to have a baby and went to Orlov clinic in Odessa to make sure I was born safely. My mother was sure she was going to have a boy and she even had a name for him. She was planning to name him Vitaly after her mother Gitl – Gitalia that died in 1916. When I was born I was named Natalia after my grandmother. In 10 days my parents were on the train to Nemirov. There were no vacant seat on the train and my father managed to find one for my mother and he was standing all the way holding me. We lived in a big brick house with a high porch of 8 stairs. There was a big living room (60 square meters). There was oak furniture set upholstered with green plush. It consisted of a divan, two armchairs and two settees. There was a dinner table and a low tea table with a samovar on it. There was also a carved oak cupboard with crystal glass and a beautiful light brown grand piano. My father liked to play it and so did I later on. There were two fireplaces in the living room. The ceilings in the house were about 5 meters high. In my parents’ bedroom there were two big beds, my mother's dressing table and a green plush padded stool. My room was smaller. There was a wooden bed in it cover with a nice woven bedspread, a color woolen carpet on the floor, a low table and two chairs. I had a beautiful doll that my mother brought me from Tarascha. My mother’s brother Joseph had two daughters: Mila was 13 and Lisa was 11 when I was born. It was their doll and doll’s furniture that I they gave me. The doll closed its eyes and said “mama”. There was another room in the house that served as my mother’s office. She received her patients there. My father had a classroom where he conducted classes. His training course lasted two years. A standard dentist course lasted 3 years, but my father gave it to his students in two years and then they passed their exams to obtain an official certificate. My father’s former students worked in Mexico, US, Kiev, Lugansk and Nemirov. My mother had housemaids in the house. She had patients and her working day began at 8 in the morning, so she didn’t have time for any housework. My mother was very loyal with housemaids. Through my childhood we had two housemaids: they were both Ukrainian country girls. The first one Vassilisa got married later and the next one after her was Marussia. They weren’t rich, but these girls that came from a village looking for work charged very little for their services and were glad to have a job.

There was also a guest room in the house. My mother’s favorite friend Esfir used to live there for years. Her husband Mark Golovchiner, a doctor, got typhoid from his patient and died.
There were two other rooms that my parents leased to a young couple of teachers of the Jewish school: Fania Muger and Yasha Kachman. In 1929 their daughter Nadia was born. I just adored her.
There was a small outhouse in the garden where our gardener Philimon lived. We had beautiful garden with exotic dwarf trees and fruit trees. There were marvelous flowerbeds with roses, phlox flowers and narcissus. There was a small water pool with yellow lilies around it.

My parents told me that back in 1919 they found out that there was going to be a pogrom in Nemirov. My father had a friend – director of the cable factory located in 5 km from Nemirov. He promised to give shelter to my mother and me. My father brought us there, but the pogrom took place in the poorer Jewish neighborhood and we returned home safely.

We spoke Russian in our family. My mother knew Yiddish a little, but in her family they also spoke Russian. My father spoke Yiddish and taught me a little. I learned to read at 4. My mother also began to teach me to write, but I didn’t want to learn. We had our classes late at night and I always pretended that I was hungry or tired.

My father was very talented. He was fond of acting. He was head of drama club in Nemirov. He wrote a play “Deprived of civil rights” about a Jewish girl that couldn’t make her way in life because she was a Jew. My father also wrote musical comedies “A Young Wife”, “Fiancés. They often rehearsed in our living room. My father was fond of playing preference and billiards.

I would like to tell you what kind of person my father was. When I was 7 my father, my mother and I were having lunch. My friend Mera was waiting for me on the porch. Between the courses I ran to look how Mera was doing. I looked into the window and saw a cab passing by when a bag fell off it. The cab driver jumped off to pick it up when his wallet fell out of his pocket. The cab rode on and I shouted to Mera to pick up the wallet while the cab was still in sight. But she didn’t notice the wallet. I ran out, picked up the wallet and ran to my father. He looked in and exclaimed “Wow, there is enough money to buy two cows – it’s a lot of money!” He and I ran after the cab asking all passers by whether they had seen it. We finally reached the forge where I saw the cabman and I told my father that he was the man that dropped his wallet. My father asked him whether it was his wallet and the cabman said to him “What do you want, man, don’t you see I’m busy?”. My father gave him his wallet and we went home. The cabman was so confused that he didn’t even say “thank you”. That was what Duvid Milimevker was like.

My mother also had her talents. She was very intelligent and spoke fluent French. Princess Maria Scherbatova often sent her cab to pick up my mother and take her to the Princess’ house. She loved my mother’s company. The Princess was Prince Pototskiy’s (Editor’s note: Pototskiy was one of the richest aristocratic families in Poland) daughter. She married Prince Scherbatov, an ancestor of a Russian aristocratic family of the Scherbatovs and a son of Prince Nikolay Scherbatov, the philosopher and became a Christian. They were a noble family and were very selective about who to invite to spend time with them. Count Pototskiy built a synagogue, a cathedral, a church and a grammar school in Nemirov. His family contributed a lot of money to charity helping orphan children and sick people.
My parents were very critical about the Soviet power. They were smart people and believed that they deserved a more successful and happy life. They wished they could have their own clientele and their own business rater than working for a miserable salary. My father daydreamed about theater, but there was no theater in Nemirov and nobody seemed to care about Jewish art. My parents didn’t discuss such issues in my presence, but I still heard bits of their conversation.

My parents only observed few Jewish traditions, but they were more atheistic than religious. However, they celebrated Pesach. They bought matsah and cleaned up the house the day before Pesach. Then they sterilized household utensils with heated copper balls that they dropped into water. We had beautiful dishes that were only used at Pesach. We also had special dark blue wine glasses and one special wine glass that was on the table but nobody drank from it. My father said the wine in this glass was for Elijah . I always waited for him to come, but never saw him. I also remember clear soup with kneidlech from matsah flour. Once I saw some boys carrying red apples outside. I asked my father what it was and he just said “It’s a Jewish holiday and the boys are carrying apples”. I believe it was Chanukah.
There was a synagogue in Malobazarnaya Street not far from our house where I used to run with children. My friend Clara Gorwitz and her grandparents lived near the synagogue. I often visited them and her grandmother treated me to sweet and sour stew. Then Clara and I went to the synagogue once a week or even more often. Men were praying there on the 1st floor and women – on the balcony. My mother had a book of prayers in Russian. She put on a fancy dress and a hat and went to the synagogue on holidays. The synagogue was painted red on the outside. The main synagogue built by Pototskiy in Podol was a huge two or three storied building with a white-&-blue façade, but I didn’t go there – it was too far from our house.

Before school I took walks with a Frebel teacher - a young lady that finished Frebel school. She had a group of 5- 6 children. I remember how we walked in the park and she taught us French and names of trees and flowers. There was a marvelous park of Princess Scherbatova in the town. There was a flower garden in the center, marble statues and Italian trees in the park. It was so beautiful with all pine an oak trees. The Princess, her son and daughter lived in the palace before the revolution and Prince Scherbatov resided in Paris. The Princess always supported the poor. Before arrival of a Red army unit to Nemirov some local Jews came to offer the Princess to give her shelter in their houses, but she refused saying that she had only done good for everybody and had nothing to be afraid of. When the Red army unit arrived they shot the Princess, her daughter and relative on the lawn in front of the house. The young Prince escaped and the forester gave him shelter in his house. Some time later the forester killed him with an ax and removed his golden dental bridge. After the revolution there was a sanatorium in the palace and my mother worked there as a dentist.

In 1925 I went to the Ukrainian secondary school. I didn’t go to the Jewish school because I didn’t know Yiddish. The school was located in the former estate of Princess Scherbatova. At school I became a pioneer, but I don’t remember any activities or anything interesting in this regard. There were Polish, Ukrainian, Russian and Jewish children at school. We didn’t care a bit about nationality. I had quite a few Russian friends. We are still friends with one of my Jewish friends – Syutka Finkelshtein. I was a lazy pupil in junior classes. We had many books at home. They were my parents’ professional books and classic books by Tolstoy, Kuprin, Chekhov. I don’t remember any Jewish books at home.

When I was 9 my mother took me to the seashore in Odessa where I fell ill with malaria. I almost died and I can still remember painful quinine injections. After this happened my mother stopped traveling with me. I can still play the piano. I had almost ideal ear and my parents hired a teacher for me. In 1932 I finished lower secondary school 7 years. Thee was no music school in Nemirov. My mother and I went to Vinnitsa, about 50 km from Nemirov, where I entered music college. When we went back home we received a notification that the music college was moving from Vinnitsa to Kamenets-Podolskiy. It was too far away from Nemirov. Besides, the authorities opened high schools in Nemirov and my mother told me to continue education at high school. When I came to my class on 1 September Tania Sekunova, the best student at schooltold me to share the desk with her. I sat beside her and my attitude towards studying changed radically. I became one of best students.

Our class sat in the former church building and there was a harmonium there. During intervals girls asked me to play. I played polka, waltz, and they all danced.

In 1932 NKVD officers came to our house with search. They were looking for weapons. There were no weapons in our house, but they took away all our valuables: my father’s watch that he had received for “Rescue activities during fire”, I don’t know any details only that he received it during the tsarist regime when he rescued someone during a fire, my mother’s golden watch on a chain with the engraving “From a grateful student”, rings, my mother’s golden medal that she was awarded after finishing school and my father’s box with pieces of gold.

My father was arrested. When he asked what where the charges they replied that they believed he knew who had gold in the neighborhood. They kept him in prison for two weeks. NKVD office was the next house to ours and I climbed over our fence into their yard and crawled to the window of the cell where they were keeping my father. My mother was afraid to go there. There was another inmate sharing the cell with my father. That man, an agricultural specialist, killed his wife, his 2-year old son and 7-year old stepson with an ax and threw their bodies into a silage pit. My father shared his food with him. He said he wasn’t stupid, but that he was probably crazy. In two weeks a new chief of NKVD office was appointed and he released my father. My father came home with a gray beard. His hair grew gray while he was in prison. They didn’t torture him, but being an inmate of a prison and stay in the same cell with a murderer was far too much for a decent and honest man that my father was. He fell on a chair and burst into tears. So you can imagine that my parents couldn’t accept this regime.

During famine in 1933 my mother was working at the railroad medical facility and received 8 kg of corn flour per month. This saved us from starvation. I remember dead people lying in the streets – this was so awful. The daughter of our former gardener Philimon used to come beg for food and my father always gave her something. Philimon lived in a village near Nemirov. Some time later my father heard from an acquaintance that Philimon had died a long while before and his daughter begged for herself. My father was upset with this news and my mother commented that it was not decent on her part to behave in this manner. My father told her to keep quiet because she didn’t know what it was like to starve.

In 1935 I finished lower secondary school -8 years with highest grades. There were 3 best students in our class: Tania Sekunova, Itzyk Shoihet and I. I entered Kiev Medical Institute. I rented a room in Rognedinskaya Street and earned my living by making injections as my mother taught me to my neighbors and acquaintances. My parents also supported me.

That year Revekka, the daughter of my father’s sister Manya, came on a visit from America. She was in Lutsk and then in Kiev. Manya’s son Pepo got business education and Emil was a musician. He played saxophone. Revekka and her husband took Emil to America pretending that he was their daughter Silva’s fiancé. This pro forma marriage became a real one. They had two sons, but we stayed out of touch with them.

In 1937 went past our family, but it affected my cousin Lisa. Her husband Aron, born in 1902 became a communist party member in 1918. He was in the Red army, but in 1937 he was arrested and shot. The father of my classmate Odia Serdyuk that was chief accountant of Nemirov forestry was also arrested and shot in 1937.

I met a young man in Nemirov when I was 16. Odia Serdyuk, my classmate, had a gramophone and Syutka Finkelshtein my best friend and I came to her to dance on the verandah. Once an acquaintance of mine Vassia Rudenko brought a young man wearing glasses. He was a student of Leningrad conservatory David Matzyevskiy, Jew. He played the violin. He courted me. His mother turned out to be a christened Jew. He left for Leningrad and we began to write letters. I learned a lot about Leningrad, because he sent me many cards with views of the city. He came from Kharkov where he finished music and drama institute. He took part in an international contest of violinists. Next summer David came to Nemirov again. He fell in love with me, but I wasn’t in love with him. I enjoyed his company, but my mother wasn’t very happy with this development of events. The following summer she took me to her brother Naum in Uglich to keep me far from David. My mother believed that it was necessary to get education before thinking about marriage. I continued writing letters to David. He graduated from the Conservatory and returned to Kharkov where he became the first violin at the opera theater and assistant in the Conservatory. He was earning lots of money. He was waiting for me to graduate from the Institute and marry him. I got a job assignment to the district center of Andrushevka, but I knew that I was going to Kiev. I liked Matzyevskiy, but I didn’t love him.

My parents moved to Kiev in 1936 to stay closer to where I was. They rented an apartment in Zhylianska Street and bought a dentist office. They worked at home. Our house in Nemirov was leased. I lived with my parents and we began to celebrate Pesach again. My mother brought matsah and we made a general cleanup of the apartment. We took out our Pesach dishes and cooked borsch vegetable meal, gefilte fish and sweet and sour stew. I didn’t go to synagogue at that period.

Once my mother had a patient. That woman broke her artificial teeth and my mother treated her. In half a year after her visit her son returned from the Finnish war and came to my mother to have his teeth fixed. I was sitting on the sofa reading for my final exam. He came nearer to me asking “May I see what you are reading?» I raised my head and saw that he was blushing like he never blushed in the following 44 years. On a 3rd day he proposed to me. He was my husband to be Boris Zilberman. He was 5 years older than me. He graduated from Aviation College and was a student of Bataysk pilot school. He understood that piloting was a risky profession and entered Kiev Polytechnic Institute. During the Finnish war in 1939 he was a pilot. His plane fell on a forest. One pilot was killed and another pilot and Boris survived. They were both wounded. Boris climbed down a pine tree and fainted. He had his forearms fractured and he was shell-shocked. He stayed in hospital for a long time and almost lost speaking abilities. His mother was very worried about him and that was at that time when her artificial teeth broke.

My husband to be, Boris Zilberman was born to a wealthy Jewish family in Kiev in 1913. His father Isaac Zilberman had a very high position. He finished a Commercial College in Warsaw. He got married but he didn’t love his wife Esther. They had 3 children. Before the revolution Isaac bought a 6-room apartment in Kiev. He was Chief of Northern Forestry Planning Department, chief of Northern Caucasus forestry and went on business trips almost all the time. When Boris got married Isaac settled down in Kiev and became deputy manager of Department at the Ministry of Soviet Farms.

Boris and I were wed in the registry office near the Opera Theater on 9 July 1940. His friend Grisha was with us. Then we went down to Kreschatik and celebrated our wedding at the restaurant of the Grand Hotel. We had Champaign, black caviar and delicacies. I came home and felt dizzy from Champaign. I told my mother that we celebrated the receipt of diplomas. We didn’t tell my parents that we got married. We believed it was more romantic in this way and it was to be a surprise for them. On that evening they went to visit their friend, eye doctor Binshtock and Boris came to see me.

At 11 in the evening I told my husband to leave because my parents were to come back home soon, but he said that now that he was my husband he was going to stay. My parents came home and I told them that Boris and I registered our wedding. My mother almost fainted such a huge surprise it was for her, but then we celebrated this event at home again. My parents were happy for us - they liked Boris a lot.

On 19 July 1940 we had a small wedding party at home big wedding parties were not customary before the war; we didn’t have a huppah either. There were 3 friends of my husband and my friends at our party. We didn’t have a place to live. Boris’ parents, his younger sister Bella born in 1921 was studying at Kiev Medical Institute and Boris lived in the apartment in Shevchenko Blvd. Boris’ older sister Manya was married, had a daughter – Talka, and they lived in Mikhailovskaya Street. My husband was director of Mechanic Plant. I had to take my job assignment in Andrushevka. Boris and his boss went to the Central Committee to solicit for my employment in Kiev, but they failed. I had to go to Andrushevka and we kept visiting each other on that year.

I had collected works of Boris Lavrenev - I was fond of reading his books. When my husband started a conversation about Lavrenev and his biography I opened my mouth. He knew such details that I admired his intelligence. I fell in love passionately and married him in two weeks. Few days before Boris and I got married Matzyeskiy came to Kiev to marry me. I ran away from him and he beseeched me and stayed in Kiev 5 days before he left without saying “good bye”. When I was married I received a letter from him where he wrote that he was desperate and that he was madly and hopelessly in love with me. I didn’t respond. Later I found out that he volunteered to the front when the war began and perished in the vicinity of Kiev. I believe that his mother cursed me. She might have thought it was my fault that I made her son so unhappy. She proably believed that if I had married her son, his life would have been different.

On 22 June 1941 I arrived in Odessa to spend my vacation there, Boris couldn’t go with me. He was busy at his work in Kiev. I got off the train and heard Molotov’s speech on the radio. I stayed in Odessa for two days before I got on the train back to Kiev. My return trip lasted 11 days on the open platform. This was a military train and the platform was coupled to it. During air raids the train stopped and we hid in the bushes or woods. There was a woman with two young children. During raids she gave me one child and grabbed another and we jumped into the bushes.

On the third day of the war my cousin Pepo and my father’s sister Manya and her two daughters Anka, born in 1913, a pharmaceutist, and Ruzia, a nurse, arrived in Kiev. Ruzia’s husband was killed on the first days of the war. My parents gave them whatever they had and they moved on. Anka had a beautiful child. At the beginning of the war he and Pepo’s son fell ill with dysentery. Pepo’s son survived and Anka’s son died. My grandmother Ginda and her sons Michel and Yankel stayed in Lutsk and perished in 1941.

My husband’s plant became a mine plant. He was responsible for evacuation of the plant and he helped our parents and many other families to evacuate on the trains for transportation of equipment. He stayed at the plant day and night but on the day when I got to Kiev he went home to make sure that it was all right. I went to the 3rd floor and knocked on the door when I heard his steps on the stairs.
The government left for Kharkov. My father-in-law went there, too. My husband sent me to Kharkov and left for Middle Asia and then to the Ural. I evacuated with my husband’s relatives, but I got lost on the way. I was going to the East on a train. We reached Saratov where my father’s youngest brother lived. When the train stopped I decided to go visit him. When I came there I saw my father sitting at the table reading a newspaper. What a meeting! We decided that I would go to my destination anyway and they would join me later. I reached Tashkent region and stopped at the Nizhniy Chirchik area (about 4000 km from Kiev).

There was a hospital there and I worked as chairman of military commission. My husband got a 10-day leave and visited me. When he left I realized that I was pregnant. I lived in a 3-room house. I lived in a big room with a stove, a physician-pediatrician with her daughter from Kishinev lived in another room and a Russian nurse Tonia was a tenant of the 3rd room. In the end of September my parents and my mother’s sister Clara came from Saratov. They found a place to live. My father worked as a dentist in district clinic. My mother stayed with me some time before my baby was due. When it was time for me to go to hospital chairman of the collective farm Vassilenko gave us a horse-driven cart. My mother and I went to the hospital. It was snowing and was very cold. They started fire in the stoves in hospital, but it turned out that flues were not cleaned and all smoke was gathering in wards. They opened the doors to let some fresh air in the wards. My mother looked around and said “Come what may, but we are going home. They will both catch cold if she stays”. My son was born at home on 13 November. My friend, midwife Valia, assisted me during childbirth. My husband was in the Ural at that time and heard the news about his son in December.

There was a shop in Nizhniy Chirchik where employees made ropes from toe. One of the employees was a young Jewish woman from Poland. She had no warm clothes whatsoever and was in a desperate situation. I decided to invite her live with me as an aid. Rosa used to say that my son saved two lives: mine, because I wasn’t recruited to the army due to my pregnancy and hers, because she would have died of cold. Rosa was very happy and adored my son Leonid.

At the beginning of winter in 1944 many other doctors and I were summoned to Tashkent for reevacuation. My parents went with me. At that time Germans reoccupied Donbass and we had to stay in Tashkent for longer. I went to work at a polyclinic. My parents lived in a house in the old town and Leonid and I were staying in a shabby dwelling with no ceiling, only a roof. There were two sisters, Jews sharing this dwelling with me. They were very decent and intelligent. Once I got terrible toothache and went to my parents. My father looked very ill. My mother looked at my tooth and I told her that I was going back home to feed Leonid and take a syringe with morphine, and would be back. When I returned I saw my mother sitting on the porch. She said “Your father died”. It happened on 13 May 1944.
In some time we went back to Kiev. The 3 of us: my mother, my son Leonid and I. One carriage of the train was full of doctors and the rest of the train was for Kiev Franko Theater. Our return trip lasted over two weeks. We arrived in June 1945. Our house in Zhylanska Street was destroyed. My father-in-law and his family were back. The younger sister of my husband had a fiancé, military engineer. He received an apartment and she lived with him, so my family could stay with my in-laws for some time. Later we my mother, my son and I went to Nemirov. Only one bomb was dropped on Nemirov during the war. It destroyed part of our house and a printing house nearby. During the war the German commandant of the town gave our house to his lover a Ukrainian woman, and her husband. The commandant took the lover with him and her mother resided in our house. When we returned she moved to her friend.

There was a lot of chicken meat sold in Nemirov at reasonable prices. We were so starved that we were happy to have some food. The problem was to slaughter them. We just couldn’t. But we needed food, so I slaughtered them in the weeds in our garden, but I left them there and my mother went to pick them up. I couldn’t chop huge logs for wood for the stove and pushed them into the stove full size. But those were comparatively small discomforts considering all our previous problems. The locals also brought us some food. Soon I went to work as a doctor at the clinic.
In spring 1945 my husband returned, during the war we wrote letters to one another. He came to Nemirov to take all of us to Kiev. He managed to get an apartment for my mother in 44 Saksaganskogo Street and we lived with my mother at first. There was one big room where we installed partials to make two rooms, a kitchen with no windows and a toilet. There was no bathroom. My husband was director of metalwork plant. He was a born manager and his workers respected him a lot. Many buildings in Kiev were destroyed. My husband obtained permission to build a house for his employees in Gorky Street. In 1947 we received a two-room apartment in this house. My mother invited Clara from Tula to live with her. We sold our house in Nemirov.

We were very enthusiastic about establishment of Israel in 1948. We felt proud for our people and for our relatives Pepo, Manya, Anka and Ruzia that participated in this process.
In 1949 I got a job at the Bacteriological Institute where I detected antibiotic properties of some bacteria. I joined the antibiotics department that was opened in our Institute. I told Tamara, head of this Department, Candidate of biological sciences about my survey and she allowed me to continue my tests at my free time. I took a course of English because I realized that it was necessary to know a foreign language to be able to read scientific articles and journals. Upon successful completion of the course I could read medical books and journals at the foreign literature in the CPSY Library.
To start writing thesis on my subject I had to obtain approval of deputy director Professor Diachenko. I went to see him with all my developments. He was an old man and didn’t care a bit about things. He told me that nobody needed my experimentation. After this meeting I cried all night through. Shortly afterwards our department was closed and I got an offer to take a training course in tuberculosis which I did.

In 1952 people were saying that the authorities were planning to deport Jews to Birobidjan. I convinced my husband to enter into a contract for a job in the North to avoid deportation. My husband obtained an assignment for a big oil deposit in Oktiabrskoye, Bashkiria. He was appointed as operations manager in Tuimazyn oil trust. It was a new town and we received an apartment in a new house. I got a job as a nurse doctor at their medical department. Manager of this department Malinovskiy always valued my opinion. I remember the “doctors’ case” very well. One of my patients said that all these Jews should be all hanged and I felt like fainting. I can never forget the horror I felt hearing this bandit. The reality was troublesome; newspapers kept publishing articles about murderers of doctors and people lived in constant expectation of arrest. Fortunately, nothing happened to us.

I worked at the hospital from 9:00 till 15:00. I came from work when Leonid came from school, he was 10. He had dinner and went out to play. He usually played at the construction site nearby where he knew quite a few workers. I remember March 1953. Leonid went out and I turned on the radio. It announced that Stalin died. When Leonid came back home I was crying. He said “Mother, don’t cry. The workers are so happy”. I didn’t believe Stalin, but I felt cautious about what the future was to bring us.

We started packing and returned to Kiev in May 1953. I went to work at the tuberculosis clinic and in half a year I became its director, although I was not member of the Communist Party. In 1957 after aunt Clara died we changed my mother’s and our apartment into one bigger apartment and my mother began to live with us. My mother was retired and helped me about the house. We began to observe Jewish traditions. My mother lit candles on Shabbat, we always had matsah at home and cooked traditional Jewish food at Pesach. I played the piano in the evening and sometimes my mother, my friend Syutka Finkelshtein and I went to concerts at the Philharmonic and Conservatory.

Leonid finished school in 1959. In 1957 there was an order issued that young people could enter higher educational Institutions having work experience. I decided to send Leonid to work and complete his secondary education at an evening school. Leonid decided to go to Kiev Polytechnic Institute. Before entrance exams my husband’s friend that was working at this Institute told us that his wife was in the admission commission and that she saw that there was a tick against our son’s name. This tick meant that he was not to be admitted. My husband didn’t believe his friend thinking that he was fishing for some money. Our son was a success with his studies and had private teachers. Besides he had work experience and we saw no reasons why he should fail at his exams. Leonid received highest grades at tow exams and the next exam was physics. His examiners put him the lowest grade. Leonid was so unhappy that he began asking questions and the examiners threatened that they would call the police if he continued behaving like a hooligan. Leonid didn’t come home and I searched for him everywhere. I found him on the slopes of the Dnepr. He tore up his written preparation to answer at the exam and it was not possible to prove that he didn’t deserve the lowest grade. He was rejected because of his Jewish nationality. Anti-Semitism in Ukraine was very strong and Jews couldn’t enter any higher educational institutions.

In two months’ time I read at the Vecherniy Kiev newspaper that Melioration Institute in Rovno announced additional admission to its affiliate in Kiev. Leonid entered this Institute. It was closed, though, in a year’s time and the students were transferred to the sanitary engineering faculty of Kiev Construction Institute. Leonid graduated from it in 1964.

In 1960 a new tuberculosis hospital was built in Vassilkovskaya Street and I was appointed its director. In 1962 I was included in the list of a delegation of doctors to Poland. Some time later the delegation went to Poland and I was left behind. My acquaintance that was working at the health department told me that I was crossed out of the lists due to my typical Jewish last name. I got concerned that our last name might also have its impact in Leonid’s life. It was allowed to take another name at that time and Leonid submitted his documents to the registry office to have his name changed and a new passport issued. He decided to take the last name of Zimin. Leonid defended his thesis of candidate of sciences. He is a scientific specialist and has his works published in journals. He has worked at the Institute of thermal physics for over 30 years. He has been head of department there for 15 years. However, Leonid has always identified himself as a Jew.

In 1964 I heard on the radio that State awards were awarded to a group of scientists from Bacteriological Institute where I had worked 15 years before. They were given this award for the subject that I was developing at m time. I got so upset. They didn’t allow me to work on this subject only because I was a Jew.

In 1966 my mother died of infarction.

My son married Galia Struchenko, a Ukrainian girl, in 1965. Their son Alexei was born in 1967. My husband and I bought them an apartment in Druzhby Narodov Blvd. Galina’s mother happened to be a friend of my cousin Lisa. Galina and her mother Ksenia always treated Jews with respect. They have many Jewish friends. We’ve always had friends of various nationalities. Leonid also has many Russian friends. Galina and Leonid are very happy together. Leonid and Galina are not religious, but they always have matsah at Pesach and Easter bread at Christian Easter. Galia cooks Gefilte fish and they visit us at Pesach.

Alexei finished school with gold medal in 1984. One day specialists from Moscow Physic technical Institute came to Ukraine to interview Ukrainian children to admit them to the Institute based on results. Alexei was 16 and he went to the interview. He called me later to tell me that he believed he was a success, because members of this commission were pleased with his answers. They asked him about the nationality of his parents and he said that his mother was Ukrainian and his father was a Jew. Alexei became a programmer. He worked in the US for two years. He lives in Moscow now with his family. Alexei has a Russian wife Lena and they have 3 children: Ksenia, 8-year old, Tatiana, 5-year old and Vania that will soon turn 2. Alexei identifies himself as a Jew. His family is not religious, but they observe some traditions and celebrate both Pesach and Easter.

In 1984 my husband died of cancer in his stomach. We lived a happy life of love and understanding. We had friends of various nationalities. We got together on holidays and birthdays and went to theaters and cinema together. In summer we went to the seashore. Regretfully, I’ve never been abroad. Few years before he died Boris was convincing me to move to Israel. I refused, because I knew that Leonid and Galia were staying. Besides, I can’t bear the heat. My husband hated the Soviet regime and was very insisting about leaving the country. When I asked him about Leonid he used to reply that he would join us there if he wanted to.

In 1978 I retired from the tuberculosis hospital where I had been director for 18 years. My pension is 162 Hrivna (Editor’s note: it’s about $30, her apartment’s fee is about $20 per month. It is impossible to make ends meet with this money). My former patients still call me every now and then. I receive calls from my acquaintances residing in Israel and the US. One of my friends lives in Great Britain. I often call Syutka Finkelshtein. Sometimes my son Lyonia and his wife Zhenia visit me. My friends call me on the phone. They are old and cannot come on a visit.
I receive food packages from Khesed. Recently I had a woman aid from Khesed, but then the reviewed their policy and do not provide aid to the people that have children residing in Kiev. I have a tenant and pay the rent money that she pays me to my housemaid Sonia. She comes 3 times a week to clean the apartment and cook for me. I can hardly walk now and have very poor sight. Sonia is a Jew and she sometimes cooks sweet and sour stew and latkes for me. At Pesach she cooks borsch and buys matsah for me. Sometimes on Friday my son visits me. I play the piano for him, then I lit candles and we celebrate Shabbat. That is how I live.

Tobiash Starozum

Tobiash Starozum
Kiev
Ukraine

Tobiash Starozum is a nice and friendly man. We met him in the Hesed office in Lvov. His wife Nadezhda and he invited us to their spacious and clean apartment. Tobiash and his wife have very warm caring relationships. They invited us to tea with delicious pie that was made on the occasion of our meeting.

The family of Starozum came from Lodz (Western Poland). Lodz is a big industrial town and center of textile industries. There was a number of plants and factories in Lodz: textile, weaving, woolen and carpet enterprises. They were well-equipped enterprises owned by Polish, Jewish and German businessmen. There were no trees or bushes in the town. Paved streets and brick houses formed a typical townscape. There was a big Poniatovskiy park outside the town. Young Jewish people from the surrounding smaller towns and villages came to Lodz to become workers and formed Jewish neighborhoods.​

My grandfather on my father’s side Toibe Starozum was born in a small town of Vydava near Lodz in 1863. All I know about my grandfather is what my family members told me. My grandfather was a tailor. He was sitting on the windowsill with his legs crossed sewing with a needle - he didn’t have a sewing machine. My grandfather was religious like all other Jews in this town. My grandfather said a prayer on Fridays and went to synagogue on Saturday. They spoke Yiddish in their family and followed the kashrut. Jews in Vydava only ate kosher food that they must have bought in Jewish stores. My grandfather died in 1910. I don’t know why he died. By that time all his 6 children lived in Lodz.

I remember my grandmother Laya Starozum very well. She was born in Vydava in 1865. She was a good housewife and a devoted mother. My grandmother lived with us. She had a room of her own and I remember her sitting on a chair in her long black gown and a shawl on her head looking through the window. On Friday grandmother lit candles in our houses. She was a fat woman and suffered from diabetes. My grandmother didn’t go out. My mother looked after my grandmother and honored her much. On Friday my mother heated a big bowl of water, took it to my grandmother’s room and washed her. My grandmother seemed very old to me, although she was only 55-60 years old then. She was very nice to me and always wanted to tell me things, but I was just a boy and took no interest in her stories. I felt like playing with other boys in the yard and left my grandmother to do my own things. I wish I had listened more to what she wanted to tell me. My grandmother died in 1925 when I was 10.

All children of Toibe and Laya Starozum were very close and supported each other at hard times and shared their joys. All boys studied at cheder, but after the children left their parents’ home they stopped being religious, although they always identified themselves as Jews and observed traditions. Their mother tongue was Yiddish.

The older son Rivn Starozum, born in 1883, was a textile worker in Lodz, but later he changed his profession to become a butcher. He had a son and a daughter that perished during the Great patriotic war. The second son Khuna Starozum, born in 1885, was also a textile worker. He had a son Zavl Starozum. His whole family perished during the Great patriotic war. The third son Srul Starozum, born in 1887, had no children. He perished during the occupation. I don’t know whether my father’s brothers and their families perished in gas chambers of Auschwitz or in other camps. I know for sure that they were exterminated by fascists like almost all other Polish Jews. The fourth child in the family was my father’s sister Surah, born in 1889. She met a Jewish man from Russia and married him when she was very young. During the Soviet power her husband became an EC officer (. Editor’s note: EC – Emergency Commission – punitive authority of the Soviet power). Her husband perished in Stalin’s prison in 1937, like many other people. Surah died in Kiev in 1965. My father’s younger sister Toba moved to France in 1930s where she perished during occupation. I know that she had a son, but I don’t know what happened to him during the war.

My father Aron Starozum was born in Vydava in 1891. He studied at cheder and was helping his father with sewing. My father followed his brother to Lodz in 1910s. He became an apprentice of a Jewish tailor and some time later obtained a permit for work. He was the only one of all children that took his father’s profession. He owned a tailor’s shop in Lodz. He was a good tailor that made overcoats, raincoats and suits for men. He had rich clientele. My father had a Zinger sewing machine. My father met my mother in Lodz. They met a proletariat club. Such clubs were a popular pastime at the beginning of ХХ century. Young people that were fond of communist ideas got together in these clubs to discuss communist ideas and sing revolutionary songs.

My mother Tsyrl, nee Klain, was a weaver at the Poznanskiy garment factory. She was born in the town of Grabovo near Lodz in 1889. My mother was 2 years older than my father.
My grandfather on my mother’s side Mendel Klain was born in 1862. He owned an inn in Grabovo. The majority of population in Grabovo was Polish, but there were also Jews: shoemakers, tailors, clock repairmen, glasscutters and bakers. There were sausage stores owned by Jews. I remember kosher goose sausage. My grandfather had a big house with bitumen felt roof and verandah. On the first floor there was a their store where they were selling candy, cookies, herring, all essential goods. They also made and sold ice cream. It was the most delicious ice cream I ever tried. Theirs was the best ice cream.

​My grandfather was very religious. He prayed twice a day with his tahles and tefillin on. He didn’t work in his store on Saturday. He went to shil (Editor’s note: that was how they called their synagogue) to “duvener” (Editor’s note: pray in Yiddish). My grandfather wore light hats in summer and dark ones in winter. My grandfather only spoke Yiddish. Dinner for Saturday was cooked on Friday. At home they put meat, potatoes and spices into a bowl and took it to the baker’s where they put the bowl into a stove to take it out of there on Saturday afternoon. This dish was called chulnt. There were only religious books in Hebrew at their home. They were stored on a special shelf and every time my grandfather wanted to take them he washed his hands thoroughly. He studied Talmud at home until late.

My grandmother Perl Klain - I don’know her nee name - was born in 1865. I remember her when she was a gray-haired and tiny woman. She always wore a long skirt, a shawl on her head and a snow-white apron. There was always ideal order at home and in the store. My grandmother was selling things in the store and my grandfather watched the process sitting at a desk. My grandmother spoke Yiddish, but with her Polish customers she spoke Polish. I know that my grandmother didn’t have any education and couldn’t write, but she handled her customers well. She was religious and observed everything our God required from us. On Friday evening she lit candles. Dinner for Saturday was cooked a day before. My grandmother made fish and baked halas herself. They were delicious. My grandmother listened with respect to my grandfather saying a prayer. My grandmother also tended to customers on Saturday, because the law is not so strict to women and she could work, if necessary. My grandparents were not rich, but very respectable people in the town. They raised 5 children and were very proud of them.

My grandparents were old people when Germans occupied Poland in 1939. They shared the fate of all Jews in their town. They perished, but I don’t know any details.
​My grandparents’ older son Laibl Klain, born in 1885, finished cheder in Grabovo and worked as a textile worker in Lodz afterward. He perished during occupation. His son Shlome, born in 1917, was a composer. He managed to escape to the Soviet Union. I know that he reached Kovel and got together with my aunt Esther. We met with him in Moscow. He was a very cheerful and talented man. Shlome was in evacuation in Siberia during the war. He worked at a club and had very little food. In 1946 he moved to Palestine. He died in Israel in 1970s.
My mother’s older sister Esther (born in 1887) married a very nice and talented Jewish man – Jacob Ekhlis, in 1911. Poland was a part of Russia at that time and he was recruited to the Russian army. After WWI he stayed in Moscow and Esther joined him in 1922. Her husband Jacob, a very intelligent man, got a higher education and became chief engineer at a knitwear factory. In 1941 he volunteered at the Territorial Army. He perished during defense of Moscow. Esther evacuated to Ufa during the war. She lived in Moscow after the war. Esther died in 1972. They had a son – Efroim. He was at the front during the war. After the war he graduated from University and lectured on philosophy at the Medical University. He also deceased. Esther and her husband supported and helped our family and I remember them with love and gratitude.

My mother’s sister Enta, born in 1891 lived in Lodz. She was a good dressmaker. She and her daughter Ella managed to escape to the Soviet Union in 1939. Her husband stayed in Lodz and perished. Aunt Enta was in Middle Asia in evacuation. In 1946 she emigrated to Israel where she died in 1967.

My mother’s brother Pinakhes Klain, bon in 1895, was a minor tradesman in Lodz. He perished in occupation.

All boys in the Klain family studied at cheder in Grabovo and went to synagogue with their father. In Lodz they stopped going to synagogue and stopped being religious people. This was a trend of the their time. However, they observed Jewish traditions and celebrated holidays. Their mother tongue was Yiddish, but they also knew Polish and Russian.

My mother Tsyrl Starozum, nee Klain, born in 1989, was a second child in the family. She learned housekeeping and cooking habits from her mother and was very good at what she did. In 1906 my mother went to Lodz and got a job at the weaving factory. She learned weaving and worked at the factory for 7 years. My mother spoke Yiddish. She could also understand Polish. My mother met Aron that was a young tailor and my future parents got married at the beginning of 1914. They had a traditional Jewish wedding. There was a huppah, the bride and bridegroom wore fancy outfits, and their wedding was officially announced by a rabbi. My father rented a good apartment where they lived and my father had his shop there. Since my mother got married she quit her job. She was a housewife. She did everything about the house and took care of the children. My father made clothes for my mother and she liked to dress up. They went out together.

I was my parents’ first baby. I was born on 9 July 1915. We rented a 3-room apartment on the third floor of a 3-storied building. Our landlord was a Jewish man. We had two big rooms and a kitchen. One room served as my father’s shop and another room was a bedroom. My mother did her cooking on a brick stove stoked with coal. My grandmother Laya lived in the third room that was very small. When my grandmother died nobody else lived in this room.

There was a market not far from our house. I enjoyed going to the market with mother. We went there once a week. There were Jewish and Polish vendors at the market. Clients spoke Polish to Polish vendors and Yiddish to Jewish sellers. We bought kosher meat from Jewish sellers. We, children, spent most of our time in the yard with not a single tree or bush. When the weather was bad we got together at the stairway. We didn’t have any toys and played with whatever we found at home or in the yard. I remember how we valued fragments of stained glass, pieces of metal and little stones. Sometimes we played with walnuts.

Our neighbors were textile workers. When breadwinners of a family lost their jobs or fell ill their families moved out. The rent in our apartment building was high due to the running water that we had. All our neighbors were Jews and we only spoke Yiddish. We hardly ever played with Polish boys in the street. They didn’t harm us, but we felt that they were from a different world. Our family was better off than our neighbors. My father had a permanent source of income and my mother was a perfect housekeeper.

​We celebrated Jewish holidays. My mother always made a fancy dinner and we cleaned up our home for a holiday. We didn’t go to the synagogue and nobody said a prayer in our family. My parents didn’t work during holidays. At Pesach we celebrated 2 days, worked 4 days and the following 2 days were days off: “chalema” (Editor’s note: hol hamoed – means half holiday, the intervening days at Channuka and on Pessach ). All I remember about holidays is that I knew about them when there was a general cleanup of the apartment and my mother bought and cooked special and festive food.

There was a cheder on the same floor as our apartment. I have been there, but I didn’t attend it. My father said that I “didn’t need any of this nonsense”. I felt sorry for these boys with payots and thick books that spent their days reciting something melodiously. After they left we came to this room through an open door and played under the benches. There were only benches and tables in this room. At Yom Kippur people used to pray in this room and we left our home to not interfere with those people and went to our relatives to my father’s or mother’s sisters or brothers to enjoy the holidays. They didn’t pray or fast and didn’t go to synagogue.

My father was interested in policy. In the morning after breakfast he used to say “Go and buy Folkstsaitung – People’s newspaper” in Yiddish. I ran out to buy a newspaper and my father read it. My father was a just man. He didn’t belong to any party. He believed in justice and not in parties. There was a Communist party and a Bundespalotionist Party – a Jewish national workers’ organization (Editor’s note: this organization struggled for the formation of Jewish autonomous organization in Poland).

In 1922 my sister Shyfra was born. She was a favorite of all of us.

​I went to school in a year’s time - in 1923. It was a non-religious Jewish school, organized by the Bund Party for children of workers. My parents paid a small fee for my studies. We studied mathematic, Yiddish, Jewish and world history and geography. We studied in Yiddish. Boys and girls studied together in our school. Our teacher was a kind middle-aged woman. She was a Jew, of course. We had to come to school clean and tidy. Every day we had our ears, hands and nails checked for cleanness. Children, especially Jewish children, were more obedient at that time. There were about 30 of us in the class. We observed Jewish traditions at school, but they were explained as part of the history of Jewish people.

On summer vacation I went to my grandmother Perl in Grabovo. There was more space to play there and I had good friends to play with. My friends were only Jewish children in Grabovo. My schoolmates were children of workers that knew that they were going to become workers after finishing school. My classmates were children of our neighbors. I remember Moshe, a shoemaker’s son, that became a shoemaker himself and Pinia, a textile worker. We finished school in 1931, but continued to be friends. I finished a lower secondary school, 7 years, when I was 16. My sister Shyfra went to school in 1931. She was 7 younger than I, and my parents understood by the time she went to school that she had to mix up with the rest of the world. Shyfra was sent to a state school for Jewish children. The language of teaching at that school was Polish. Her friends were also Jewish children from workers’ families. At that time the wages received by workers were sufficient to provide for their families. Workers’ wives were usually housewives.

​After finishing school I began to assist my father. I worked with him until the war. I got up at 8 in the morning and sat beside my father to learn his profession. My mother’s task was to sweep floors at our work area. Our working day lasted from 8 in the morning till 8 in the evening with half an hour for lunch. At 8 pm I could go to play with my friends in the yard. In my teens I began to met with Jewish girls. I liked to read. There were many books published in Yiddish at that time. I liked historical novels and adventure books. Later I studied Polish and began to read in Polish. There were Jewish theaters in all Polish towns. We often went to the theater. My mother and father also liked theater. On Saturday we went to visit relatives. We got along well with our relatives. All women in the family were good at cooking, but my mother was the best. Even my memories are mouth watering. How delicious was her Gefilte fish! My father and mother didn’t go Mikve or synagogue. On Sunday we went to sauna. There were Polish and Jewish visitors to the sauna, but there were no conflicts. I went to the sauna with my father and my sister and mother went together, too.

We read newspapers and had discussions with my friends and parents about the situation in Germany, but such is human nature that one never believes that something bad may happen to him. A war seemed to be far away from us.

In September 1939 Germans came to Poland. I was in hospital at that time. One had to pay for getting treatment in this hospital. If one was poor he had to obtain a confirmation from special commission. I had inflammation of joints. There were about 20 patients in my ward. We were provided meals and medical treatment. I returned home from hospital and on the 2nd day at home I looked out of the window and saw German soldiers on horses.

Germans occupied Lodz without a single shot. Germans didn’t take any actions during the first few days and then they started capturing Jews. I don’t know how they knew Jews from non-Jews. Perhaps, they looked at their appearance. Polish people are different: fair haired and fair-eyed. Besides, Germans probably got the lists of Jews from the town authorities. I was captured in the street and out? on a truck. There were about 10 other people there already. There was only one thought pestering me during our drive and that was to escape. I jumped off where my second cousin Elia Haim lived.

He and I decided that it was time to save our lives. I didn’t go home. On the 3rd day we set on our journey to the East. There were 4 of us. We walked at night. I didn’t feel any pain in my legs or joints any more. The eastern part of Poland was occupied by the Soviet army, but everything was such a mess that one could cross the border to and for some time. We reached Belostok, a big town of textile workers that belonged to the Soviet Union. There were crowds of Jewish refugees in Belostok. Many of them slept in the streets. One day I met an acquaintance from Lodz. He told me that he had seen my sister. She was 17 then. I found her and said ‘How could you leave our mother and father?” It became my goal to go back home and rescue our parents. There was a local train from Belostok to the border that was in about 20 km from the town. There was a Polish man going back home and we decided to go together. We reached the border, but the situation changed and the local train was to turn back without stopping to let people get off. The Polish man and I decided to jump off the train. I had to go to the railway station to take a train to Warsaw. On my way there I was captured by 3 Germans. I said to a German soldier: “Where are you taking me? I am Polish”. He looked at me and let me go. I took a night train home. I sat there hiding my face so that nobody could guess that I was a Jew. I arrived at Lodz at night. At dawn I reached home and knocked on the door. Nobody answered. I shouted “Mother! Father!” They opened the door and asked me why I came back. I explained to them that we had to leave immediately. I was all white from lice. I washed myself and we set on our way to escape. We didn’t take any luggage but a pillow for my mother – she was used to have her comforts and we wanted to make it comfortable for her. We got to Belostok and then managed to cross the border. I rescued my parents, but or remaining relatives all perished. My uncles were hoping that this nightmare was to be over soon, but it wasn’t. In February 1940 Germans got all Jews to the ghetto in Lodz, the first ghetto in Poland.

We stayed in Belostok for about a month in terrible conditions. We slept in the streets or entrances of the houses. We spent few nights at a cultural center of a factory. We sent a telegram to Esther in Moscow to let her know that we were in the Soviet Union, but they couldn’t do anything to help us. It was getting colder and colder – it was the month of November. Some Jews wished to return to Poland and were sent to Siberia by Soviet authorities.

Our family got to Cheliabinsk, in 3000 km to the northeast from Poland in December 1940 where we were given a room. My mother, my father, my sister and I worked on housing construction sites. I was a plaster worker, my father made lath and my sister painted the walls. My mother stayed at home. The temperature dropped to minus 40 at the beginning of winter in this area. We worked five days a week and at weekends we made clothes for our new customers. They paid us money for our work, so things weren’t too bad for us. We learned to understand Russian in no time and nobody paid any attention to our Jewish and Polish accent. There was no anti-Semitism at that time. There were Jewish construction managers were we worked. When we told people about how Germans treated Jews, they sympathized with us, but I don’t think they believed it could be true. Soviet newspapers wrote about friendship between Germany and the Soviet Union and people believed what was published in mass media. We were newcomers from the West and did not quite belong to those that grew up in the Soviet country. We were issued temporary passports that did not allow us to reside in big cities, but we were grateful to have been accepted and given a job. There was a tractor plant. There were many German communists among engineers at this plant. In 1941 these Germans were charged of espionage and imprisoned.

Esther wanted us to move to Moscow. In her letters she discussed options with us. In one of her letters she suggested that I married a woman from Moscow and that she had found one for me. At the beginning of 1941 - I believe it was February, our family went to Moscow. We stayed with Esther. They had a spacious 3-room apartment and we lived with them illegally for 3 months. We admired Moscow.
I got acquainted with a nice Jewish girl Maria Gofman, born in 1922. She had just finished the Library College. We got married soon. We had a civil wedding ceremony. Maria’s parents liked me. Only marrying a girl from Moscow didn’t give me the right to reside in Moscow. Maria’s parents wanted to help me. Their son was an engineer at a construction agency. They were hiring workers from all over the country. I could go to any town where Maria’s brother could hire me as a worker for Moscow. But the war interfered with our plans. It was not a good idea to have with illegal status in Moscow. In May 1941 my father, my sister and my mother went to Vladimir, the nearest town to Moscow. They rented a room there and my father and sister went to work at a shop. I stayed in Moscow until my coat was stolen and I turned to militia. They checked my documents and I had to sign the paper that I would leave the city within 24 hours. I went to Vladimir.

On 22 June 1941 the war began. It wasn’t a surprise to us, we had already lived through one beginning of the war. Maria’s father came to Vladimir to let me know that Maria was in Kazan where her brother got a job. Maria’s father needed to move his belongings to Kazan from Moscow. I helped him move, but then it turned out that they didn’t need me in Kazan. I didn’t have a right to reside in Kazan, but I was hoping that my family life would help me to acquire a legal status. However, I had to make some arrangements, because at that time anybody with problems with his documents could arise suspicion and be charged of espionage.

I met an old Jewish tailor at the market incidentally. He gave me accommodation with him and I helped him with his work. Maria was visiting me, but it was clear that our family life wasn’t going to improve. She was young and depended on her parents much. I didn’t know anything about my family. I had a letter from them where they wrote that they and other refugees from Poland were to be deported - it was called “evacuation” in a civilized way - to Middle Asia. I knew I had to follow my family. I said “good bye” to Maria and it turned out to be our farewell. In 1942 Maria got cancer. Her parents moved her to Moscow for medical treatment. Se died of cancer in 1944. She was buried at the Jewish corner of a cemetery in Moscow. I went to her grave when I was in Moscow.

I didn’t have a permit for traveling across the country. I went to the railway station where I met an invalid wounded at the front that was going to Tashkent. I went with him. From Tashkent we went to Samarkand in 4000 km from Moscow. In Samarkand I met an acquaintance, one of those that escaped from Lodz with me. He told me that he knew where my family was. They were in a collective farm near Samarkand. They were living in a clay hut sleeping on clay floors. I took my parents and sister to Samarkand. There I fell ill with typhoid and went to hospital. My father and sister got a job at a garment shop. After I recovered we rented a room in the center of Samarkand where there were European style buildings built at the beginning of XX century.

There were many Jewish refugees in Samarkand. There was a synagogue in Samarkand, but their Jewish community was very different. They spoke Uzbek and made different shape of matzah. Jews from Poland and other regions also formed separate groups. But what was common was our attitude to holidays. I believe we are born with an urge to celebrate holidays according to all rules. My mother stayed at home and was a housewife. She didn’t know Russian or Uzbek, but she communicated all right. At home we spoke Yiddish.

In Samarkand I got a job as stage worker at the Opera Theater. I met a Jewish man at the Theater. His name was Isaac Sirota. He was a political officer at the trade school. He helped me to get a gob at the agricultural trade school. He recommended me to the director and this director gave me a probation task to make mattresses. I had this task completed in no time and got the position of logistics manager. I also received a room at this trade school. There were students from various regions at school. There were Jews from Minsk, Kiev and other towns among them. The students had meals at the canteen and it was my job to do quality inspection of food. My hungry period of time was over.

We tried to take good care of the children orphaned by the war and give them sufficient food and clothing. We made uniforms for them. There was no anti-Semitism.
I was well respected and valued and in 1944 I got a job offer to take a positions at work camps for children. I accepted this offer and worked at such institution as logistics manager until 1975. We read newspapers to be aware of the situation at the front. The Jewish theater from Kharkov was evacuated to Tashkent and I always attended it when I went to Tashkent on business.

​I seldom saw my parents, as I was very busy at work. My father and sister continued working at the shop. Shyfra got married in Samarkand in 1944. Her husband Laibl Rozenblum was a nice Jewish man from Poland. He was a metalworker. His parents were very religious. But the young couple had a plain civil wedding ceremony. Nobody could afford a Jewish traditional wedding at this hard period. They rented a room near where our parents lived. In 1945 their son Benyum was born. Laibl’s parents insisted on having the boy circumcised on the 8th day.

I always read newspapers following the news from the front. I used to read the “Tashkent Truth” newspaper and listened to the radio. I learned to read in Russian. 9 May 1945 was a big holiday. People came out into streets hugging each other, crying for their lost ones, but feeling happy that the war was over.

In summer 1945 there was a Decree issued allowing Polish citizens to go back to Poland. My family began to pack to go back to Poland. I couldn’t go with them. My job had sensitive restrictions, as our institution was within the structure of the Ministry of Foreign affairs. My colleagues respected me. We decided that my family would leave without me and then – come what may. I helped my family to obtain all necessary documents and pack. But what happened was that somebody stole their documents at the railway station. They were forced to get off the train on the border and go to Moscow. I had to put together another package of documentation for them and take it to Moscow. When employees of the Polish Embassy in Moscow got to know that my father was such a good tailor they wanted to convince him to take up a job at the Embassy. They even promised him an apartment in Moscow. My father refused. He looked forward to going back home in Lodz. They went home to Lodz. But after they arrived, they didn’t feel welcome in Poland. Nobody wanted them there. There were no apartments available and no jobs and no future. There was anti-Semitism similar to German anti-Semitism. There were very few Jews left in Poland. It was a rough situation and they didn’t stay there long.

My parents moved to Germany from Poland. In Germany they received an allowance and moved all together. There was a very strict Jewish community in Chile (South America). At the end of 1946 my parents and sister moved to Palestine. Shyfra’s husband stayed in Chile and I have no more information about him.

Members of my family worked at a kibbutz in Israel. They didn’t get any payment for their work, but they got accommodation and meals at the kibbutz. They learned Hebrew there. My father did some farming and made clothes. My mother and sister worked at the canteen. When their situation improved they rented an apartment in Bat-Yam. My sister still lives in this apartment. She lived with our parents. She and our father had some knitwear business. Our mother died in 1964 and our father died in 1973. Benyum grew up and served in the army and then became a worker. He is married. My sister Shyfra is 80. She is a pensioner and is involved in public activities.

I felt very lonely after my family left the country and put all my effort into work. I understood that children in work camps needed help and care. Our management was very efficient and involved inmates of the camp into manufacture of roll-bearings, aluminum ladders and other things that were in demand.

In 1952 director of the camp where I was working was transferred to the town of Zhygulyovsk on the Volga (at present it is the town of Toliatti) to become director of a new work camp. He offered me to go with him and I agreed. I became logistics manager at that camp, too. Never I heard any curse words addressed to me. People didn’t even tease me for my accent. I have always been nice to people. I never refused to help them.

Stalin died in March 1953. I always respected him deeply and was grateful to him. It was his order to allow us to come to this country when other countries were not so willing to let us in. We had a job, however hard work it was, and food. I didn’t feel lost when he died. I understood that life would go on.

I got married in Zhygulyovsk in 1955. Her name was Natalia Markevich, a Jewish woman from Ukraine. She was born in 1922. I was 40 and my wife was 33. When we met she was the only survivor in her family – all others perished during Holocaust. Natalia worked as a nurse assistant in hospital. She was wounded but returned to her duties after she recovered. After the war she worked as an accountant at first and then she went to work in commerce. When it was impossible to buy anything in stores because they were empty, she could get goods that they received in their store to exchange them for different ones with her acquaintances working in other stores. We lived 30 years together. My wife was a very good housewife. We had a very cozy and well-kept apartment. We spoke Yiddish at home. We tried to observe all Jewish traditions. Unfortunately, my wife couldn’t have children due to her wound at the front. There were not many Jews in Zhygulyosk and there was no synagogue. My father used to send me a Jewish calendar with Jewish holidays specified in it.

My father visited me in 1962. Then, in about two years’ time, my sister came and then my father visited me anther time in 1967 or 1968. The Soviet Union didn’t have any diplomatic relationships with Israel at that time. My father or sister bought tours in Italy or France to visit our country as tourists from other countries. They came to Moscow and we met at aunt Esther’s place. I’ve always been open about my nationality or my parents and sister living in Israel. My colleagues were aware of my father’s arrival. My boss approved my request for a vacation and I went to Moscow to see my father.

When my father came for the first time my mother’s sister Esther and I met him in Odessa. My father saw that I had a good job and my colleagues respected me, so he told me to stay where I was. They were living at the kibbutz then working hard and suffering from malaria and heat. I guess they thought that I had an all right life when theirs was too hard and didn’t want me to go through new hardships. I spent my vacation with them when they arrived. Once some men approached me at the hotel in Kharkov. I understood who they were and said “Would you like me to follow you?” They said “O’K, let’s go”. They took me to the Department of Internal Affairs. They asked me “Who is this woman?” I said “She is my sister and my heart and I couldn’t care less about your directions or orders”. When I returned to Zhygulyovsk my boss indicated to me that he was aware of my adventures. He told these people that I was on vacation and saved me from accusation for communication with foreigners.

​ I retired in 1978 when I was 64. My wife and I decided to move to a bigger town like Kuibyshev, in the south of Russia, 3200 km to the East from Kiev (Samara at present). We couldn’t sell our apartment according to Soviet laws. We could only arrange an exchange. In the process of evaluation of options we got an idea about Lvov. I went there and heard Polish spoken in the streets. I liked the town, its architecture and culture and we decided to move here. I was a pensioner and Natalia went to work at a store. People also spoke Yiddish and it was nice to talk Yiddish with someone.
My sister came for the last time in 1988 at my invitation. She didn’t insist on our moving to Israel. On the other hand, it wasn’t possible at that time. Natalia was severely ill and I had had an infarction. In 1989 my wife died of stomach cancer. I felt so lonely.

I had a neighbor. Her name was Nadezhda Sidorenko. She came from Chornobyl (Editor’s note: after disaster at the Chornobyl Nuclear Power Plant inhabitants of Chornobyl were evacuated to various regions in Ukraine). Nadezhda and her son’s family moved to Lvov. She is Russian. She was born in 1927. She decided that she wanted to live the rest of her life with me. We have been together for 12 years. We get along well and have a good life.

I jus told her then to leave her keys to the children and come to my apartment. She did so. She knows that Jews are reliable man and that I am.
In the recent years I noticed a change in the attitude towards the Jews. There is no anti-Semitism on the state level. The cultural life is becoming more active. Jewish theaters come on tours. Jewish folk groups come on tours and we can go to watch Jewish movies. Ad I have noticed that not only Jews attend these events. Hosed, the Jewish Charity fund plays a big role in the development of the national self-consciousness. I go there sometimes to read Jewish newspapers or to listen to lectures. I am a member of the Sholem Alechem Association in Khesed. We celebrate holidays there. Nadezhda enjoys going with me. I am very interested in Jewish life. I am so glad that our people are so united. I enjoy attending events at the Khesed and happy for the people getting together.

I would give anything in the world to go to Israel. All I want is going to the graves of my parents. But I never managed to go there for different reasons, work or health condition. However, I have no regrets.

Liza Usherenko Biography

a

Kiev, Ukraine, 2002

I was born at Podol, Kiev, on 7 April 1922. My name is Liza Usherenko.

My father told me a story about the origin of our name, and he said that according to the legend one of our ancestors was Usher. He was involved in cattle driving and he started the Usherenko line of our family some time in XVII century. Our ancestors’ previous family name was Tverskiye.

My father's grandfather was a cantonist. He served 25 years in the tsarist army. Cantonists were usually forced to be christened, but my great grandfather didn’t accept Christianity. From the end of XVIII century Chernobyl was known for the famous tsadik dynasty of Tverskiye. In 1830s they became the most influential in Ukraine. My father was living in Chernobyl during the period of tsadik Shlomo Bencion Tverskoy. Shlomo had a house, a synagogue and a “court” and led a typical life for a tsadik: praying, studying the Torah, Talmud and other religious books. Therefore, Chernobyl had strong foundations for the traditional Jewish life. The majority of population was Jewish, but there were also Ukrainians in the town. The main trades were commerce, handicrafts, cattle breeding and farming. Jews and Ukrainians were good neighbors.

My father’s father Shymon Usherenko was born in Chernobyl in the 1840s. I don’t know what he was doing for a living, but he could provide well for his family. His wife Fruma was a housewife. According to my father, my grandfather was a religious man. He died from a disease in 1883 and my grandmother Fruma Usherenko was left to raise their six children. Their first son Sholom was born with defective shoulder joint and my father took the responsibility of the oldest son in the family. My grandmother Fruma was a hard working and courageous woman. She began to make bagels. She was a bagelbakeren (bagel baker in Yiddish). This was her way of providing for the children. They had one pair of shoes and took turns to go to the cheder. They didn’t eat bagels, of course. All of them were working to give education to Sholom, the oldest one, to spare him from hard physical labor in the future. According to my father, my grandmother Fruma was keeping Jewish traditions whatever hard time they were going through. She lit Saturday candles, went to the synagogue with the boys and tried to celebrate Pesach, Rosh-Hashanah and Hanukkah.

My father’s older brother was born in 1870. He studied to become an accountant. In their family it was almost like being an academician. I saw him wearing a bowler when he became a refined intellectual. He was lucky to marry Zlata Stoyanovskaya that came from a wealthy family. Zlata was also a Jew – mixed marriages were not appreciated at that time. They had two children: daughter Adel and son Misha. Later all of them moved to Moscow and we didn’t hear from them any more.

My father, Moisey Usherenko was the second son in the family. He was born in the town of Chernobyl in the vicinity of Kiev in 1874. After him came two twins: Avrum and Perets. They were born in 1877. Perets became a shop-keeper. He got married and they lived a house in Perlovka near Moscow. They had two daughters and a son. I don’t remember their names. Avrum stayed in Chernobyl and perished during the Holocaust. My father’s sister Surka was born in Chernobyl in the end of 1882. She got married and had six children: Syoma, Freidl, Riva, Mania, Yasha and Lyova. Her husband was killed during a pogrom. This must have happened in Chernobyl at some time around 1920. She became a widow, like my grandmother Fruma, and moved to Kiev soon. Aunt Surka provided for her family by cooking for big celebrations. She was a hardworking and smart woman and had a terrific sense of humor. Later her older children went to Moscow and her younger son Lyova stayed with her. He became a mechanic and got married. He had two children: Misha and Mania. All of them went to the Babiy Yar. My father also had a younger brother Berl. He was born in Chernobyl in 1888. In the early 1900s he moved to Kiev and became a mechanic. He married Malka and they had three sons: Haskel, Sima and Boruch. All of them went to the Babiy Yar, all were taken away by the war.

My father left his parents’ home when he was 9 years old to become an apprentice in Kiev. He was working at the fish storage facilities. He didn’t study, but he was learning from his skilled tutors. Before WWI my father served in the tsarist army. He was recruited from Kiev along with other young men at the age of 17. He wasn’t recruited during the war, because he had 3 children to provide for. My father had three children in his first marriage, but only two survived. My father didn’t get any profession. He worked as a laborer his whole life. He didn’t have an opportunity to study. He always had to work to provide for himself and his family. Yakov and Sonia are my paternal brother and sister. His first wife, a Jew, was a very poor but pretty seamstress in Kiev. He was very much in love with her and wasn’t looking for a marriage of convenience like his brothers. He married this girl, but she died when giving birth to her third child. My father had to raise Yakov and little Sonia. He had to work very hard to buy milk for his little one. Later he got married. His wife couldn’t have children of her own and he married her to have her look after his children. She died from spotted fever during the revolution of 1917. Sonia was about ten and Yasha was 15-16 at that time.

My mother’s name was Dvoira Usherenko, nee Grinberg. She was born in Gornostai-Polie near Chernobyl in 1886. There was a dynasty of the Tverskiye tsadiks in this town, too. The majority of population in this town was Jewish. Gornostai-Polie was famous for its strong Jewish traditions and so was Chernobyl. Her father Morduch Grinberg was a melamed. He was teaching younger children. They were also very poor. My grandfather Morduch also made boot trees for shoemakers. By the way, my grandmother Leya Grinberg was Fruma’s sister (my parents are cousins, therefore). Leya had a kitchen garden and grew vegetables for her children and grandchildren. My grandfather Morduch was very strict and authoritative and his only business was to teach children. He studied religious texts, prayed and read the Torah. There were five children in the family: the older sister Nehama was born in the 1870s. She was very beautiful, but she died when giving birth to her 3rd child. Mikhel was few years younger. He studied well and became a teacher in Kiev. In 1878 Hai-Ginesia was born. When her husband was killed during a pogrom in Chernobyl in the 1920s she was left with two children. The next child after Hai-Ginesia was Haim. He was very handy: he could fix shoes or a fence. Later he left for Kiev and was a typesetter in a printing house. My mother was the youngest in the family. All of the children in their family got education. Brothers Mikhel and Haim went to the cheder and Nehama, Hai-Ginesia and my mother were studying at home. They must have been taught by their father or brothers. They followed religious traditions in their family. My mother remembered her father wearing a beard. Mikhel and Haim had a Barmitsva when they reached 13 years of age. They celebrated Sabbath and Jewish holidays in the family. My parents took the boys to the synagogue on Saturday and on holidays. The girls were staying at home. My mother was very good at embroidery. She could also make a nice dress from old clothes. Hai-Ginesia told me that my mother was patient and persistent.

We had a fable in the family. My cousin Semyon Grinberg, a journalist, told me about it. Grandfather Morduch’s father or grandfather was a very big and strong man. He got up in the morning straightening his shoulders and said “Well, Malhavomes (angel of death in Yiddish) won’t get me now and that’s that!” But then at the end of a tiring day when he became sleepy he was saying “Well, Malhavomes, you can come now. I’m yours”.

My mother’s sister Nehama was a striking beauty. She died at childbirth in 1902. Her husband Chervits was a very wealthy man. He was a dealer, buying and selling things. He insisted that he wanted to marry the younger daughter (my mother) in the family. My mother married her older sister’s widower when she was 16. She didn’t want to marry him. Besides being twice as old as she was he had children: Lyova, Yasha and little Nina. My mother was forced to marry him. Her sister Hai-Ginesia said to her “Don’t you love you’re your nephews and your niece? Don’t you love Lyovochka, Yasha and Nina? Would they be happy with a stranger of a stepmother? They will be unhappy children. You can bear to marry him. He loves you and will take good care of you and he is so rich”. And my mother, a 16-year-old girl, replied “All right, I will marry him and will live with him until I am 25, but then I will leave him. And don’t you judge me then”. My mother left him when Nina was 10 yeas old. My mother was pregnant then.

She was a woman of strong will. She didn’t love him. She must have gone to her relatives in Gornostai-Polie. Her husband was very hurt and found another woman. She had children of her own, he had children and they had common children later – it was like a kindergarten in the house. My mother’s little daughter Adel also stayed in his family. My mother knew that his new wife was a kind woman and that Adel would be all right there. My mother left for Kiev. She was hired as a wet-nurse in a rich family. She was saving to buy a sewing machine and learned to sew. When she received a residential permit in Kiev she went to Gornostai-Polie to take her daughter Adel to Kiev. She had to kidnap the girl, because nobody wanted to give her back to my mother, and Adel came to live in Kiev when she was 2 or 3 years old. It was in 1913 or 1914. My mother lived alone for ten years until she met my father. Both of them came from big families and not all relatives were acquainted with each other. Besides, my father was 12 years older than my mother and had left for Kiev befoore she was even born. His sister Surka was my mother’s friend and she must have introduced her cousin to my mother. My father was an extremely handsome and honest man. They fell in love with each other and got married. I mean, they didn’t have a Jewish wedding – both of them were poor, but they began to live together. I was born in 1922 when my mother was 36 and my father was 48 years old.

When I was born my father was working at the fish storage facility of Falkovich. Falkovich owned a two-storied house in 42, Verhniy Val street at Podol. My parents lived in the deep basement of the house. Their landlord’s family lived on the first floor, and there was also another family renting few rooms. My father worked as a clerk, loader and cooper for them. He also went with his master to purchase fish in Astrakhan and Revel. He was a great fish expert. He couldn’t write, but he could calculate well. My father told me that he was enthusiastic about the revolution of 1917 at first, but in due time he became more reserved about it. My father was always exploited – before and after the revolution. He was the most honest and decent man, but he was no good at making money. He used to say “I work my fingers to the bones, but is it my fault that they pay me only 30 rubles?” My parents loved each other, but they did have arguments, because of their financial situation.

When I was one year old Falkovich (my father’s employer) allowed my parents to move into an outhouse in the yard. There was one bigger and two very small rooms. One of them was my parents’ bedroom. There were two beds and my pram in it. My stepsisters Sonia and Adel lived in another small room until they got married. Yakov had left for Moscow by then.

There was an old wardrobe and a carved cupboard in the big room. My Mummy finally got a little kitchen of her own and she was washing and cleaning every bit of it. My father took a very good care of this house. He made everything with his own hands, as they never had any money to buy things. We were actually starving and Papa never got enough food. He was tall and handsome and could do and make just anything. He fixed this clock with his hands of a laborer with fish bone splinters in them. It’s a very beautiful XVII– XVIII century table clock that was the only beautiful thing in our house.

My older brother Yakov left the family almost when I was born. He finished the trade school named after Brodsky (sugar manufacturer) in Kiev and left for Moscow. He got a job of a baker at the Filippov bakery. He also wrote articles about achievements of this bakery to a newspaper and was sent to study at the Institute of Journalism in Moscow. Upon graduation from the Institute he got a job for “Pravda” newspaper, the central newspaper of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union Central Committee. He was soon promoted to a member of editorial board. He didn’t support us financially, but he subscribed Pravda for my parents and a children’s magazine and “Pionerskaya Pravda” for me. When this important brother from Pravda came to Kiev he stayed in Astoria, one of the best hotels, and he had a car at his disposal. This was the first time when I got a ride in a car. There were cars in Kiev before the war, but not in Podol. The first truck quite an event in Podol.

Of course, my older sisters and my parents were spoiling me. They couldn’t spoil me with toys or money, but they were doing their best in other things. For example, somebody had a gorgeous doll. My parents went to buy a doll’s head at the Kontraktova Square (a big square in Podol. There was the biggest market in Kiev at weekends with vendors and customers from all over Ukraine. One could buy almost everything at this market). Then my father made the doll’s body and my mother made a lovely dress andI had the best doll in the yard. Her name was Ninel – I remember this well. I also remember another story from my childhood. Before Christmas vendors were selling white houses and one could place a candle inside such house. They cost 10 kopecks, but my father never bought what he could make himself. My father made a house with a garden for me! There was an electric bulb and my mother made a shade for it. There also was furniture in this house and I could put my dolls inside. I used to take this house to the yard and all other children were admiring it – it was the best house ever!

I went to the kindergarten as soon as one was open in Borisoglebskaya street near the Dnipro River. Each child had to bring food from home. I had a small bag and my mother put some food in it. There were all kinds of children. It didn’t matter then whether one was or wasn’t a Jew. My sister Sonia studied five years in a Russian school. She was a sickly girl and finished with her studies to help our mother around the house and with sewing. Adel finished Russian secondary school #19 in Podol. My sisters had Russian and Jewish friends. My parents spoke Yiddish with one another, thinking that Adel and I didn’t understand much of it. But we understood and could speak a little in Yiddish, although our mother tongue was Russian. My parents didn’t quite follow any Jewish traditions. We didn’t lit candles at Sabbath. My father went to the sauna in Podol each Friday (a Russian tradition). However, my mother’s sister Hai-Ginesia was lighting candles until her last day. My mother probably believed that God would forgive. My parents followed all covenants of the God. They were always faithful to one another, never stole or took possession of anything.They probably had a good intention to observe the Sabbath, but my father had to go to work on Saturday and my mother had to cook and give him some food.We always had matsa at Pesach, but we hardly had any celebrations at Jewish holidays, as we were so poor. Our family seldom went to the synagogue. I was once or twice at the synagogue in Nizhniy Val street when I was a child. I was inside and watched the service but I wasn’t impressed. The Jewish community was changing at that time. Young people attended clubs. I remember Sonia and Adel went to one of such clubs in Krasnaya Square to listen to revolutionary poets and concerts.
My father took me out sleighing in Verhniy Val. There was a runoff ditch in this area stinking awfully. Zhytniy market spread almost to the Dnieper River and boats with goods were near the bank. People were buying directly from boats – it was cheaper.

At five I fell ill with scarlet fever and diphtheria. I was taken to hospital and had ear inflammation. The doctors had to make trepanation of the scull. I returned home when I was six years old. 8 years was the age to go to school, but I wanted to study earlier. I learned to read and write when I was 2 years old. Somebody gave me an ABC book for my second birthday, but someone else told my parents that I was too young to learn the ABC. I heard this and decided that I would do it anyway. At three I signed my photograph and at four I was writing letters to my mother when she was in hospital. And my mother visited all schools on her way from the market begging the primary school teachers to admit me to the first form, even if such admittance were a sheer formality. One teacher at the Jewish school agreed and I went to my first school in Konstantinovskaya street, Podol. My first schoolteacher’s name was haverka (comrade in Yiddish) Tania. My mother made me a checkered dress and a ribbon and I looked very nice wearing them. We studied Yiddish and children’s poems of Andrei Kvitko, a Jewish poet. We studied all subjects in Yiddish. The first class was usually arithmetic and I was sleepy at this time of the day. So I missed arithmetic. When it was time to go to the canteen for lunch the children were going in pairs and I was always stopped with the question “And who is this?” I wasn’t in their official lists so why give me food? My teacher always had to whisper that I didn’t know that I went to school unofficially.

At 8 they had to admit me to school officially. My mother said that I had nothing to do in the first form and I was to go to the 2nd form in Ukrainian school #20 or Russian #19. My parents didn’t want me to study at the Jewish school. They realized that it would be easier for me in the future if I went to a Russian or Ukrainian school. They chose the Ukrainian school. My father was very happy that I was going to the best Ukrainian school and besides, it was two blocks closer to our home that the Russian school. This was in 1930 and boys and girls studied together. There were workshops, a gymnasium and a concert hall at school. Children performed on the stage and I sang in the choir. I had a friend Nyusechka Tais, a Jew. She lives in the USA with her children now. I had another friend Zhenia Ostrovskaya, half-Jewish. Her father was a doctor. There were many Jewish children in my class. I studied in this school six years and then we went to the newly built school in Mezhygorskaya Street. I finished my 10th form in this school. Many of my classmates perished during the war.

Adel married Goihman in 1937. He was her co-student at the factory trade school. He was one year younger, but he was head over heels in love with her. They didn’t have a Jewish wedding. Her husband’s Jewish name was Srul, but everybody called him Sania. They moved to Dubno before the war. They had a son Sima. Sania was director of the officers’ club in Dubno. When the war began Sania received a vehicle to evacuate his employees, women and children. The officers did understand that he had no chance to survive as a Jew. He moved people to a safe location and returned to perish fighting beside the officers and other military. His old mother went to the Babiy Yar.

Sania gave me skates and I went skating. I was 8-9 years old. I went to the skating-rink at the Dynamo stadium. My mother always waited until I came back home. Once I didn’t come back until very late. A boy pushed me and took away my skates and boots. I had never seen my mother with such a happy expression. I was hurt then – I was so upset and my mother was feeling happy about it. She was concerned for me but she couldn’t keep me from going skating.

In the 1930s we got a primus stove and the cooking process became much easier for my mother. I remember my mother cooking corns on this stove – my mother bought it at the lowest price at the market. I also loved the first green apples that Mama bought. If she ever bought meat, it was only the most inexpensive that she could find. Liver was the cheapest meat. We also ate rabbit meat. Rabbit meat is a taboo for Jews. My father worked as shop assistant and he bought these rabbits at the store. It was meat for us improving our diet a lot. Once Mama made rabbit stew and Adel’s husband Sania ate a leg. Mama asked him how he liked the rabbit and he jumped out of the table. He had strong Jewish convictions. But we were so poor that eating rabbit meat was a way out for us. My father also ate pig fat, especially in winter when there was nothing else to eat.

I remember the books that we had at home. My father had a taste for beautiful things. He bought a Bible in the red binding illustrated by Dorei (19th century French artist). This edition was in Hebrew, with Hebrew and old German print. I grew up with this Bible, because I often fell ill due to poor nutrition and lack of vitamins, and when I did, I always had the Bible on my knees. My father borrowed Sholom Alehem from the library. My father used to read to the whole family. He was reading in Yiddish and the others were bursting into laughter.
When I was five I started borrowing books from the children’s library, located on the 5th floor of the fire tower. I was a fast reader and read all children’s books in no time. I read about Magellan, Jul Verne, etc.

We had mainly Jewish families living in the house, but there were Russian families, too. There was the Falkovich family and another young family with children in the house. Janitor Karev and his family lived on the first floor – they were a Russian family. Karev was a member of the party and a very advanced communist. There was also the family of Goldovskiye in the basement. Goldovsky was a vendor and they always had enough for a living. The Goldovskiye had only one daughter – Zinochka. She always had lovely dresses and her grandmother was always following her to give her some food. The family of Pilavskiye – Moiher and Brushka, their son Aron and daughter Lusia (my classmate, although she was one year older) – was living on the ground floor above the basement. Pilavskiye went to sell small things in Glebovka near Dymer. They evacuated during the war and survived, but their son went to the front and perished. There was also the Vinnikov family. The father took part in the Japanese war of 1905. Their older son was a very sickly child. He didn’t live long. They had two daughters and a son left. Another family was of an elderly couple: Nuhem and his wife. They had no children. Nuhem was a stove maker in the past. Another neighbor was Asia Polial, a seamstress. The Shpilmans lived in the basement from the side of the street. Shpilman was a shoemaker – he purchased leather and made beautiful shoes during the NEP period. His older daughter Tania was my friend and they had another daughter Havka. The Ashkenazi family lived on the upper floor. They were very religious Jews and wore thales. The father and the son earned their living by making baskets.

There were great celebrations on holidays in our yard. We couldn’t afford to celebrate Jewish holidays, but better off families had beautiful celebrations with traditional treats and music that we could attend. At Hanukkah adults gave change to the children. I saw many weddings with huppah in our yard. The bride and bridegroom were under the huppah. The bride had a white cover on her. I also remember them breaking something “for luck”. And then a party began with lots of food and gefolte fish (stuffed fish in Yiddish). Our neighbors also went to the synagogue. There was a synagogue in Nizhniy Val and two synagogues in Yaroslavskaya street: one for richer and one for poorer people. But after the revolution going to the synagogue wasn’t appreciated by the new authorities.
In summer I went to the town camp in Trukhanov island (across the Dnieper). We went to the bank of the Dnieper in the morning and crossed the river on a boat. The children spent a day in the camp, swimming, playing and eating, and went home in the evening. I was sensitive to sunshine - I often fainted. I fainted near the boat or on the stadium where they had all kinds of pioneer gatherings. We were brought up to be Soviet patriots. We made pioneer fires and sang songs. We had little food and a lot of ideological nonsense.

In 1930 my sister Sonia married a Russian man. My parents didn’t have any objections to their marriage. Lyonia was a nice young man and they liked him. Her husband Lyonia Elizarov was a sailor of the Dnieper fleet. During the famine of 1932 Lyonia received rationed food at work and he brought everything home. It was food for our whole family. Later Lyonia became an officer and was sent to Blagoveschensk in the Far East. Sonia and little Tolia followed him soon. My father couldn’t provide for the family and we were almost starving. My mother asked my father to go to their older son Yakov in Moscow. She wanted to save him from starving to death. He didn’t want to go there alone, but my mother convinced him by saying that he would be sending parcels from there. He agreed and went to Moscow. He got a job at the automobile plant. I don’t know how big his salary was, but he was living in his son’s family, and his daughter-in-law had a very bad temper. He was a very tactful man and couldn’t send us anything. But once we received a parcel from Moscow. My mother and I ran to the post office and my mother put this parcel on my knees. We opened it and saw bread, all molded. We ate this bread dipping it in the water. I have horrific memories of the dead in the streets and green flies all over them. It was a nightmare. I remember our neighbor boiling potato peels and us breathing in the smell of it. We had soy bean flour and I didn’t eat soy. My mother made soy flat cookies and went to the market to sell them and buy a piece of bread. She came back in tears with few copper coins. She didn’t get any bread and she didn’t have any flat cookies left. She gave them away to hungry people. And then Mama got a job at a sewing workshop. She was sitting at the conveyor a whole day. She got some mess of a soup at that workshop, she ate the a little bit of it and brought me the rest. We survived the famine and later my father returned home. He didn’t bring any money. He was receiving very little money for his hard daily work at the automobile plant that was hardly enough to buy food. He also saved something to buy a ticket home. But we were happy that he was back and that he survived. If he had stayed in Kiev we would have starved to death. My mother earned a little by sewing and we could manage more or less. Some time before the war my mother was invited as a consultant to a dressmaking shop. Besides consulting my mother did a lot of sewing for them, although she had no compensation for this extra work. Papa worked as a shop assistant at a grocery store and returned home very tired. But still, he made a bench at the gate and always grew flowers in the yard. He always enjoyed doing something for the community.

In 1940 I finished school and entered philological department in Kiev State University. My father wasn’t very happy with my decision. He was 64 and wanted me to go to work as soon as possible. But my mother was very happy. She wanted me to get good education and was ready to sew day and night if necessary. Although the competition was high I managed to pass my entrance exams. I didn’t face any anti-Semitism before the war. There were few Jewish girls with Russian names: Petrakovskaya, Okun and I, Usherenko and few with Jewish names: Fogel, Varelman. But at that time nobody took any notice of the nationality.

By that time my sister Sonia and her family lived in Moscow. She wanted her husband Lyonia Elizarov to make a career. He submitted his documents to Leningrad Military Political Academy named after Tolmachev and they moved to Leningrad. Later Lyonia was transferred to the Military Political Academy named after Lenin in Moscow. The war began before he finished the Academy.
In summer 1941 University students were sent to make trenches near Kiev. We stayed there day and night. We received water, sausage and bread for work. This was the first time in my life when I had enough sausage. We were in Zhuliany near the airport. The airport was already bombed by Germans. We were told to go back to Kiev. I walked as far as Podol and met my father in Nizhniy Val street with a bandage on his head. He was on duty at the Arsenal plant and was injured during bombing. He was beyond recruitment age and volunteered to work at the plant. When the evacuation process began Mama sent me to look for Adel and her baby that had evacuated taking no luggage and having no money. I went as far as Marxshtat on the Volga and decided to stop looking for Adel. I wanted to get my parents to where I was. Our neighbors Karevs that evacuated to the same place where I was told me that they were trying to convince my parents to escape. My mother said “no” and my father joined her, although he wished to evacuate. All of them perished in the Babiy Yar: my parents, my father’s sister Surka, my father’s younger brother Berl and his family. Berl and his wife Malka had two sons: Hatskel and Boruch. My mother probably thought that she had to stay where their relatives were staying. She wrote me “Don’t worry about us, we have lived our life”. She was fifty five and my father was sixty seven.

I realized that they had gone as soon as I read that Germans were killing Jews in the Soviet newspapers. I received a letter from Adel and went to Novouzensk to join her. I worked writing for newspapers there. My sister Sonia, her son Tolia and her little daughter Tania were in the evacuation in Sterlitamak (Bashkiria). Lyonia Elizarov and my brother Yakov were at the front. I also wrote requests to recruit me, but I was shortsighted and they refused me. Later I went to the labor front in Orsk and from there I was called to University that was in evacuation in Kzyl-Orda. In 1942 I began my studies at the Kiev University that was in evacuation in Kzyl-Orda, philological faculty, however hungry and poor I was. Other students had parents supporting them, but I had nobody. We only had radish mess soup for a meal.

I fell ill with epidemic jaundice. I was in hospital, but I had nothing to eat at all. I was supposed to receive 4 kg of vegetables, but they only had radishes. I left my hospital and walked until I got to the morgue! And I thought “That’s where I should be”. I was walking holding to the walls of the buildings until I reached our hostel. One of the students was working at the shop where they released bread in exchange for cards. She did me a favor and gave some bread in advance and promised to bring me crumbs. I lived in this way until 1944, when it was time for reevacuation. I was traveling on a freight train. There were few railcars with cotton cake that we were eating. Those that ate more of it died. I survived, because I was eating it in little bits. When we reached the Aral Sea we took some salt with us. I took just a small bag and went to sell some at the next stop. It was still close to the sea and nobody wanted to buy salt. One old woman felt sorry for me and gave me a boiled egg for a little bit of salt. Just one egg. Then there was cotton cake for a 5 day trip to Penza. In Penza one could get a piece of bread for salt. Everybody ran outside, but I couldn’t get up from weakness. Someone took a little bit of my salt and brought me a slice of bread for it. That was all I had in Penza – this slice of bread that I was eating slowly to last longer.

When I got to Kiev I found out that another family was living in our apartment. I settled down at the hostel of Kiev University on Vladimirskaya Hill. This was May 1944 – the time of devastation. Young people worked in Kreschatik cleaning it up and removing the debris. I was starving until I got a job of a secretary in Aeroflot where I could eat at the canteen for employees. I lived in the hostel. We could get some potatoes in exchange for salt, but we were still hungry and that’s how we lived. I went to work as proofreader in a newspaper. We also donated blood. We received some money, a meal and some rationed food for blood: a little bit of butter, sugar and egg powder. I remember making some egg-flip with a spoon of butter, sugar and egg powder. It was a fatal blow for my liver and I could hardly come back to my senses afterward.

I worked a lot, but I spent little time studying and I was expelled from University. I rented a room in R. Luxembourg Street. I had to heat the room with wood, but I couldn’t get any and had to live in the cold unheated room. I walked to my work in Zhuliany. My galoshes were torn and I tied them to my socks with a strap. I came back from work into a cold room and went to sleep on a cold sofa. I don’t know how I survived. My colleagues found out how I lived and addressed our management requesting them to take me to the army. One could get regular meals, clothes (military uniforms, new and warm) and a warm place to live in the army. The army was the only place in the country, destroyed by the war, where an individual could have such provisions. Dedovets, commanding officer of night bombers military unit 105 that was within the Aeroflot structure, agreed to have me in his unit. It was located in Panevezys (Lithuania).
Our unit finished the war in Kenigsburg. In the middle of 1945 they began to disband this military unit and I was transferred to the “Soviet hawk” newspaper. I worked as a radio operator in this newspaper receiving the Informbureau messages. Later they disbanded this organization, too.

My brother Yakov returned from the front and began to work for “Pravda” newspaper. I wanted to stay in Moscow at first, but I couldn’t get a residential permit. Adel also returned from the evacuation and wrote me to come to Kiev. We rented a room in Reitarskaya Street, Kiev with the three of us – Adel, her son Sima and I - living in it. Adel’s husband Sania perished in Western Ukraine at the beginning of the war. Adel found me a job at the Regional Financial Agency. I worked at the mail department of the unit for single mothers and families with many children. My responsibility was writing responses to letters.
I was trying to figure out whether it was possible to have the issue of our apartment resolved. But I soon realized that we wouldn’t be able to get back our apartment. I took some proofreading work to do at home. Then there was an occasion to get a proofreading job in Germany. At the end of 1946 I went for an interview at the Central Committee and they asked me about my relatives. Lyonia Elizarov my sister Sonia’s husband was in the rank of colonel and deputy commandant of Berlin. My brother was at the front. I gave my consent to go to work at the German printing house publishing our books in Leipzig. I was to go there with Shura Bobrenko, as there were two vacancies. We arrived in Berlin, but nobody was waiting for us there. I asked the military office at the railway station to call Elizarov. I talked with him and he sent a car to pick us up. It was a posh car and we drove to Parkov, where the Elizarovs were living in a posh mansion of a former Nazi. According to our standards they had gorgeous life, good food and clothes. Lyonia was in the rank of colonel and held the position of deputy commandant of Berlin. He worked a lot and Sonia stayed at home. I hadn’t seen my brother for 10 years before this reunion in Berlin. Our previous meeting was in Kiev before the war. My sister Sonia was ill and she only said “Ah, you are here, too”. Her youngest son Misha was one year old, Tolia was 15 and Tania was seven years old. But my sister was so depressed. She thought she wasn’t quite happy with her children.

Shura Bobrenko and I went to Leipzig. We stayed at the hotel a few days and then we received our job assignment in various parts of the country. Shura and I first got our assignment in Weimar, and from there Shura was sent to Eisenhau and I went to Erfurt. I worked at the printing house in Erfurt. They were printing ABC Book and History of the party textbooks. A German asked me once “Do your children eat them?” meaning the textbooks – there were millions of them published. I replied that we had many children in our country and they needed textbooks. Soon afterward Lyonia asked me to come to Berlin. My sister Sonia went to take some medical treatment in Moscow and he needed someone to help him with the housekeeping. I was transferred to Berlin and got a job of proofreader at a newspaper.
Parkov was a closed town. In a year my sister’s health improved and she returned. In 1950 our management was developing our vacation schedule. And I requested to have my vacation as soon as possible. I felt very uncomfortable in Germany and it was getting worse and worse. When Elizarov heard about it he told me that if I went when I planned I wasn’t going to be back. He said it would take the Soviet authorities about half a year to reissue all necessary documents and I would have to wait and would have no work during this period. But I was eager to go home in Kiev. I knew I wasn’t going to come back anyway. I had some money in the bank and I had enough clothes and shoes. The first thing I did after I came back was to buy a trip to Sochi. Then I returned to Kiev to look for a job. It was already difficult for a Jew to find one. It was the period of struggle against cosmopolitism and “doctors’ case”. 1950s – the period of anti-Semitism on a state level in the USSR. I had to accept the vacancy of assistant proofreader at the “Soviet Ukraine” printing house. I also resumed my studies at the University in 1951. My co-student Olia Dombrovskaya was a foreman of proofreaders at the “Komsomol Znamia (flag)” newspaper and she offered me a job in her crew.

Stalin died in 1953. We had a meeting at work and the people were crying. Many thought it was the end of the world. I was quite calm about Stalin’s death, but I did feel some concern about the future.
In 1956 I graduated from the philological faculty of the University. I studied there by correspondence. There was a vacancy of an editor, but our Chief editor didn’t promote me to this position. He found an error in the proofreaders’ work, said that I was responsible for it and fired me. It was the period of anti-Semitic campaign already. Some kind acquaintances helped me to find a job at the “Rainbow”magazine (published articles and fiction) and from there I went to the “Sport newspaper”. However, editor of this newspaper had a meeting at the Central Committee of the party and they said to him “Is it a synagogue of the newspaper? There are too many Jewish names”. And I was fired again.

I was renting a room from my relative, but I was already in line for those that needed an apartment in Shevchenkovskiy district in Kiev. In the long run I received a room at a communal apartment in Turgenevskaya Street in the center of Kiev after I returned from Germany. Quite a long time later, when I was about 40 years old I received an apartment. I got another job where I could make some additional money. It was at the studio of scientific popular films. Later I was offered the editor’s position in Ukrainian advertising program. We were a team there. We celebrated Soviet holidays together and issued wall newspapers. Once we decorated our wall newspaper with hexagonal paper snowflakes. The party unit leader called the artist and said that those snowflakes reminded Magendovid and demanded to remove the newspaper. This was the period of the 1970s.

I have always been indifferent to politics. I never wanted to join the Communist party. I wasn’ attracted either by their ideas or benefits for a career. Back in 1945 I was offered to join the party, but I refused. I have no regrets about it. This party caused so much mischief in our long-suffering country!

Besides Ukrainian advertising program I did translations into Ukrainian and my works were published in “Ukraina” and “Universe” magazines. I retired in 1977.

Adel and I were very close. Her son Sima worked at a design company in Kiev after graduation from Kiev Engineering and Construction Institute. In 1978 he moved to Israel with his family and then to the US and finally to Toronto, Canada. Adel was left alone. She never got married again. I had no family and no children. I often went to visit Sonia and Lyonia Elizarov in Moscow. They returned from Germany some time in the 1960s. They lived in perfect harmony. Our Sonia died in Moscow in 1980. Her children Tolia and Tania Elizarov and their families live in Moscow. Tolia graduated from Moscow University and became an oceanologist, Doctor of Sciences. Tania became a teacher Tolia’s daughter Olia is a teacher at school. She has a son. Tolia is a great grandfather now. He is 70. Lyonia Elizarov is a great-great-grandfather. He is 96. My brother Yakov died in Moscow in 1993. He was a famous Journalist. My Adel died that same year.

My pension is 181 hrivnya ($35). This is a little bit more than an average pension. I have a higher pension as a veteran and invalid. Chesed also supports me. They entertain us, give us some food. We go to the “Warm house” for dinner twice a week. I am almost blind now and Chesed helps with tapes – they have a wonderful collection of tapes. I listen to the tapes about the history of Jewish people and I understand that we must be proud of our talented and heroic people. They protect Israel from Arabs and they have always protected it from any attacks and Israelites have come out winners. And now they say that they’ve occupied Arabic territories. And how about the Kuril Islands? Or Kenisberg? Then give those back and let’s then talk about occupation. They are heroes in Israel.

My parents paid the price of their life and 6 million Jews gave their life for Israel to be. I believe in God. They paid for this land with their lives. It would be a dream to go to Israel and die there. It is too late now. I am 80 years old and an old woman like me is no big gift for Israel. I am a patriot of Israel. I want Ukraine to be a prosperous country. But even more so, I wish Israel to do well. But I can’t go there. My Yiddish is very poor and I won’t be able to learn Hebrew. As for Germany, I wouldn’t go there for all tea in China and I wouldn’t speak German. Moving to Germany is out of the question.

My nieces and nephews love me and visit me: Tania Elizarova, Sima Goihman, Sasha Usherenko, Yakov’s younger son. Sasha’s daughter Katia is planning to visit me this fall. She works in Germany. Tania’s daughter is an architect. Her designs are published in the “World’s Best Interiors” almanac. Yakov’s older son Lev worked at the design office of Aircraft Engine construction plant in Omsk. He became Chief designer and then worked as director of this plant for some time until he retired. Tolia Elizarov is an oceanologist. He was director of the Soviet Union Institute of Oceanology at a time. Now he is 75, but he still has an office in this institute. He is Doctor of Sciences and he traveled all over the world.

I’m very proud of my family. There have never been any scoundrels or traitors in our family. There have been no executioners or informers among our kinship. My life is incomplete without children, but I couldn’t have any. I have many relatives abroad. Uncle Haims children Boris, Sonia, Matvey and Lilia and the children of Semyon Grinberg are in Baltimore. Naum Bernadskiy, Hai-Ginesia’s son and his children are in Israel. My father's grandchildren do not identify themselves as Jews. Lyova Usherenko lives on his pension and grows vegetables to make ends meet.

Evgenia Wainshtock Biography

Evgenia Wainshtock
Kiev
Ukraine
Interviewer: Oksana Kuntsevskaya

Evgenia Wainshtock is a short 71-year old woman looking older. She lives with her daughter and granddaughter in 3-room apartment near the center of the town. Evgenia’s daughter is divorced and Evgenia has to work, because her daughter cannot provide for their family. She also does all housework and shopping. Evgenia is not very happy about their situation, but she is a cheerful person. She enjoys being interviewed although she has refused to answer some questions. ​

I was born in Kiev on 27 September 1931.

​My grandmother on my mother’s side Riva-Haika Haitina, nee Gershovich, was born in Kiev in late 1870s. She didn’t have any education, but she could read and write and knew many prayers by heart. I have no information about her family. All I know is that her parents lived in Mikhailovskaya Street (Editor’s note: center of Kiev).

My grandmother had a younger sister Deborah. She finished grammar school with a gold medal before the revolution of 1917 and entered Medical Institute. She became a physician. My grandmother got married in 1899 and her sister stayed at their parents’ apartment - I don’t know whether their parents were alive at that time or not. I remember this apartment. It seemed huge and luxurious to me.

There were two rooms,to enter one of them there were few stairs. I remember an old carved cupboard and a round table in the middle of one room with some chairs around it. There were two nickel-plated beds in another room and something else. Deborah married Lev Shorokh, a Jewish young man. He was chief accountant at a company. He was a very handsome and intelligent man. They had a housewife, a Jewish woman. They didn’t have any children. My aunt was a physician at the clinic in Basseynaya Street before and after the war. Se often came for lunch to us. By the way, aunt Deborah didn’t change her last name after she got married. I don’t where she and her husband were in evacuation. After the war I often came to see my aunt.

I studied at the Institute and had to do homework in German. My German was very poor and my aunt had a very good conduct of German and helped me to do my tasks. She died in 1952. Her husband married a Russian woman that had a child after my aunt died. He died in 1965. As far as I remember Deborah and her husband didn’t observe any Jewish traditions and didn’t go to synagogue.

My grandfather on my mother’s side Mordukh Haitin, born in 1875, came from the Baltic republics or Byelorussia. I have no information about his parents. He was a tailor. He was very professional and owned a shop (until mid 1920s). After his shop was expropriated he got a job at the tailor shop of Kiev military division.

My grandfather had three brothers: Aaron, Gregory and Ilia. I don’t know their dates of birth. They were revolutionaries and continuously protested against the tsarist regime. They were arrested and exiled to Siberia. A police officer on duty often used to come to their home asking whether they were writing letters to Siberia. He often searched the apartment to cause as much trouble as possible. My mother’s younger sister Sarah got very upset when the apartment turned into a mess. My grandfather preferred to bribe this officer giving him one ruble that was a lot of money at the beginning of XX century. My mother said that my grandmother could feed the whole family for 3 days for this money.

But the family understood that my grandfather’s brothers escaped from exile. We began to receive parcels from them from abroad after the revolution of 1917. When Stalin came to power (late 1920s) grandfather’s brothers stopped sending parcels. They probably didn’t want to put their relatives at risk (Editor’s note: The authorities could arrest an individual corresponding with his relatives abroad and charge him with espionage, send to concentration camp or even sentence to death.). I tried to find them through the Red Cross later, but failed. Sarah’s husband told me that grandfather’s brothers lived in Boston, but I don’t know where he got this information.

I have no information about when my grandparents got married. They had five children: Sarah, born in 1900, 3 sons - my grandfather named them after his brothers - Aaron (1902), Gregory (1904) and Ilia (1906) and my mother Leibe born in 1908. My grandmother was a housewife. My grandparents rented a two-room apartment in a two-storied building in Bessarabka. The house was very solid -when a construction company took an effort to remove it in 1950s they failed and had to blast the foundations. There was my grandmother’s bed in a bigger room, a sofa where I slept, my parents’ bed, a cupboard and a table. There was a hallway with a wardrobe -my mother said that my grandfather also slept in the hallway. Another room -a smaller one- was given to my mother’s brother Gregory and his wife Tatiana. My grandfather kept a housemaid. There was little space in this apartment, but nobody seemed to care much about it.

There was a kerosene storehouse and a shoihet in the yard. We had Ukrainian, Russian and Jewish neighbors. They all and the non-Jews too took their chicken to the shoihet to get them slaughtered. Neighbors got along well with one another. Also other Jews from nearby streets came to this shoihet.

There were many books by Russian and foreign writers at my grandparents’ home. All members of the family were fond of reading newspapers -especially “Pravda”. One day in 1920s Aaron came home from work, sat at the table and began to read a newspaper. Grandmother served his dinner and he ate it without noticing. Grandmother cleaned up the table and then he finally raised his eyes from the newspaper asking her “how about dinner, Mother?”

My grandfather sympathized with Bolsheviks. If I said “God, it is going to rain” before 1 May or 8 March he replied “Don’t you worry. Bolsheviks are lucky and will enjoy good weather!”. My grandfather told me about oppression of Jews in old times. He said how groups of men on Palm Day used to beat Jews with willow tree branches before the revolution. He didn’t tell me anything about pogroms.

My grandparents were very religious and observed all Jewish traditions. My grandfather went to synagogue regularly. He had a thales and book of prayers and prayed at home every day with his tefillin on. My mother told me that my grandmother put on a black gown, a shawl and a thick gold chain, her wedding gift, before going to synagogue every Saturday. My grandfather had a seat of his own at Brodsky synagogue. After the war grandfather went to synagogue at Podol. Their children were not religious and didn’t go to synagogue. In 1930s religious people were persecuted. At Pesach all children and their families got together at the table in their parents’ home. At Pesach my grandparents used special fancy dishes and table sets. I remember potatoes with prunes – I couldn’t stand the smell of them. There was matsah at Pesach. My grandparents talked in Yiddish. My grandfather spoke good Yiddish while my grandmother spoke a mixture of Yiddish, Ukrainian and Russian. My grandfather spoke Russian with his customers. My grandfather was a very professional tailor, but he drank, unfortunately. My grandfather worked as a tailor before the revolution of 1917. Between 1930s – 1941 he made clothes for commanding officers of Kiev military division.

My mother’s older sister Sarah Kudrevitskaya (nee Haitina) was born in 1900. I don’t know what kind of education she got. She was fanatically cleanly. My mother told me that she would wash the floors so clean that they were shining like an egg’s yoke. Then the boys, her younger brothers, would try to get into the house through a window and she would slap them on their hands with her brush. Sarah married Wolf Kudrevitskiy, a Jew. He was a very handsome man. He was a specialist in manufactured goods. Sarah was a housewife. Before the war she got a job at the KINAP plant as a worker. They were very dramatically poor. They lived in a very small room in a communal apartment. Uncle worked at a manufactured goods storeroom, but he never took any advantage of his position. Many people were stealing to survive at that time, but uncle was a decent and honest man. His miserable salary was hardly enough to make ends meet. They had two daughters: Dina, born in 1925 and Evgenia, born in 1933. Dina and Evgenia finished Russian secondary school and graduated from Kiev Medical University. They became doctors. They didn’t observe any Jewish traditions and the girls grew up to be atheists. Both the daughters married military men and followed them to Yoshkar-Ola (over 3000 km from Kiev) in 1950s. After her husband died in 1960s, Sarah moved to her daughters in Yoshkar-Ola. She died in 1980. Sarah’s older daughter Evgenia and her family moved to Israel from Yoshkar-Ola, and Dina, her daughter and granddaughter continued living in Yoshkar-Ola.

I know very little about my mother’s brother Aron Haitin, born in 1902. My mother told me that he had a wife that died before the war. They didn’t have any children. During the war Aron was at the front. He never remarried. He died of infarction in 1953.
My mother’s brother Gregory Haitin finished Music College and then graduated from Kiev Conservatory. He was a violinist. In 1933 he married a Russian girl Tatiana, an accountant. The family didn’t mind his marrying a Russian girl. In 1934 their son Vladimir was born. We lived together at that time. Once before the war the boy got pneumonia and his condition was very severe. At night we called director of clinic Galagan. She said “The boy is dying. Would you agree if I do what I believe is necessary?” We agreed and who of us had blood A(I) group. My father did and she transfused a small quantity of his blood to Vladimir 3 times. She rescued the boy in this way. Gregory worked at the Jewish philharmonic near Brodsky synagogue in the center of Kiev.

During the war he evacuated with his family – I don’t remember where they went. After the war the Jewish philharmonic moved to Chernovtsy (about 700 km from Kiev) and Gregory and his family moved there, too. He continued to work at the philharmonic and his wife got a job of an accountant. Vladimir followed in his father’s footsteps and became a musician in Chernovtsy Jewish Philharmonic. Gregory died of infarction in 1958 and Tatiana died in 1960s. Vladimir married a Ukrainian girl. They emigrated to the US in 1979. They have a son. They were not religious and didn’t observe any Jewish traditions. They celebrated Soviet holidays and enjoyed getting together with friends. They spoke Ukrainian and Russian, but they understood Yiddish and sometimes spoke it with my grandparents.

My mother’s younger brother Ilia Haitin was born in 1906. He finished grammar school in Kiev. He graduated from Kiev Polytechnic Institute and was a member of the Communist Party. Before the war he was head of the Party unit at the Ministry of Cattle Trade. It was a very high position that he had. Ilia was my favorite. He was a very nice person. He treated all children very nicely; always gave them gifts on holidays and brought candy. He always told them interesting stories. He was a very intelligent man. He was married to Rosa, a Jew, and they had a son – Vladimir. Ilia perished at the front near Stalingrad (1200 km from Kiev) in 1943. My mother tried to keep in touch with his wife Rosa after the war, but Rosa said “Ilia is dead, so we are no relatives any longer”. She just wished to terminate all relationships with us. Rosa and Vladimir live in Kiev.

My mother Leibe was born in 1908 and was the younger in family. She finished a grammar school in Kiev. I know no details about her childhood. She also finished Kiev Pedagogical College. Although her parents were very religious she didn’t observe any religious traditions. She had Ukrainian, Russian and Jewish friends. My mother often went for walks in Kreschatik (Editor’s note: Kreschatik is the main street of Kiev), to the Jewish theater and to the cinema with them.

My father Miron Wainshtock was born in Nemirov, Kharkov region (in about 400 km from Kiev) in 1900. My mother told me that his parents died of cholera when he was 8. My father had two sisters. When their parents died the girls went to their distant relatives’ families. All I know is that their father’s name was Jacob. My father worked at the forestry after his parents died. After my father graduated from Kiev military engineering school (about 1929) served in the Red army in Kiev.

All I know about my father’s older sister Lena (1902 – 1941) is that she married a grandson of Soshenko in 1925. He was Ukrainian and his last name was Soshenko-Mazyukevich. She didn’t take her husband’s family name. Her husband was arrested in 1937 and perished in a camp. They had a son – Vladimir. When her husband was arrested she and her husband were hiding in the country and returned to Kiev when the situation calmed down. Lena was a weaver at Darnitsa silk factory. She wore silk gowns at home and it seemed so posh to me. In 1941 all of a sudden Lena got pregnant. It was a disgrace for a single woman at that time and Lena had an illegal abortion (Editor’s note: abortions were not allowed at that time in the USSR) and died of hemorrhage. We buried her at the Lesnoy cemetery without any religious rituals.

My father’s sister Dina, born in 1905, raised her son Vladimir. Dina finished Pedagogical College. She lived in Dnepropetrovsk (500 km from Kiev). Her husband Nikolay was Russian. He was a foreman at the military plant and earned good money. They didn’t have children. During the war when they were in evacuation Lena’s son got dysentery and died. After the war Dina and her husband returned to Dnepropetrovsk. She worked as director of nursery school for children of single mothers at the military plant. Dina always asked me and my sister to move to Dnepropetrovsk. She died of asthma in 1954.

After Dina died she was buried according to the Christian ritual. Her husband was Russian and didn’t know any traditions and she had no relatives left in Dnepropetrovsk. Dina identified herself as a Jew. She didn’t even change her Jewish last name when she got married, but she didn’t observe any Jewish traditions or go to synagogue. Uncle and she spoke Russian. Many people came to the repast commemoration. People drank and ate and laughed and I hated it. I couldn’t understand how people could forget that her death was such a tragedy and loss and those people seemed to be enjoying themselves. It’s a hard memory. Dina’s husband remarried, but died in two years after she died.

My parents met each other somewhere in a park in Bessarabka in 1930. My mother was so pretty. My father was a very handsome man. He had blue eyes and fair hair. They got married in 3 months after they met They had a plain civil ceremony.

At first my parents lived with my mother’s father in his apartment. Then in about 4 years my father received a room from his military unit. In 1934 my father was sent to serve in the Far East (about 8000 km from Kiev) where my mother and I followed him. We lived in a room there and I remember a portrait of Leninon the wall. There was my parents’ bed, my bed and a table in the room. My mother worked at the kindergarten and my father was a commanding officer. In summer my mother and I went to Kiev. My father was awarded a complete volume of Lenin’s works and a bicycle for his excellent performance of work.

My father was very intelligent. But in 1937 my father’s co-student and friends submitted a report on my father, accusing him of refusing to buy a state loan lottery! (Editor’s note: The Soviet power was in bad need of money for development of its industries and issued a state loan lottery in late 1920s. People were forced to buy these loan lotteries.) My father told me later that he had seen and read this paper My father was arrested when my mother and I were in Kiev; he was tortured – every ten minutes he was called to interrogation, they didn’t let him sleep. It lasted for about a month. They wanted my father to sign a paper confirming that he was guilty to have a document to sentence him, but my father was a strong person and he didn’t accept any accusations.

After he was released he demobilized and returned to Kiev. He became trade union leader at the container factory. Director of this factory was my father’s best friend. We lived with my mother’s family in Basseynaya Street (Editor’s note: one of the central streets in Kiev). In 1938 I went to the first form of Russian secondary school in Kiev. I enjoyed studying and my father spent a lot of time with me. My father was an atheist, but he was very tolerant about my grandparents’ faith. He was a convinced communist and was a member of the Communist party since he studied at the military college.
In May 1941 my sister Dina was born.

In 3 months before the war my father was sent to fortify the borders in Western Ukraine. He came to Lena’s funeral in Kiev in a week before the war. The war began on 22 June 1941 my father put on his uniform and went to the registry office. There was a kerosene storehouse in the yard and when women that were standing in line saw my father wearing a uniform they burst into tears thinking about their sons, husbands and fathers that were to go to the war. My father stayed with us for another day while his military unit was being formed and then left for the front. We didn’t hear from him for a long time.
We were a big family - my grandparents, Gregory, Tatiana and their child, my mother, my younger sister and I - and had no possibility to evacuate all together. There were not enough transportation means in Kiev to evacuate all those that wanted to leave and the priority was given to important enterprises, their employees and employees’ families.

My grandfather told his children to evacuate and take their children. Aunt Sarah was evacuating with her plant and she took my mother, my sister and me with her. We went by train to Novotroitskaya village, Krasnodarskiy village (about 1300 km from Kiev). We got a hospitable reception from the locals. They took us to their houses. The only problem was lack of water at the village. There were cement wells in the yards accumulating precipitations. My father found us there – he sent us his military certificate and told us that our grandparents evacuated to Georgievsk (1200 km from Kiev). We moved there, too.
In Georgievsk we rented a room. Our landlords, a married couple, had no children and liked my sister, she was a beautiful baby with blue eyes and blond hair – she was like an angel. They liked the baby very much and my mother allowed them to cuddle her every now and then. The couple told my mother once that they would give my mother money to have my sister, they must have wanted a child desperately. Besides, they may have thought that my sister and I could starve to death. It wasn’t a common thing to “buy” kids during the war, but it was an absurd suggestion of theirs. My mother got very frightened. She paid our landlords one month in advance and arranged for all of us to escape from Georgievsk. We got to the railway station and got a train to Mahachkala from there (1800 km from Kiev). In Mahachkala we waited for our turn to evacuate for a month. Then we boarded a ship - a smaller one) - and then we boarded a bigger ship somewhere in the Caspian Sea. We were allowed to have 5 kilos of baggage with us.

We got off in Krasnovodsk (1300 km from Kiev). There was no water there and every drop was a fortune. In November we got an opportunity to get on railroad platforms to move on. We were passing Samarkand and my mother decided to get off there. We got accommodation at school. We had lice and were terribly dirty. Sarah’s daughter Evgenia and I got typhoid. There were any other diseased people lying on the floor in the gym of the school. There were no medications and only by miracle Evgenia and I recovered.

We lived in Samarkand throughout the war. My mother was an observation inspector at the military registry office where officers’ wives received their bread rations. My mother was to watch that everything was just and fair. We also received some money by my father’s certificate. Aunt Sarah worked at the KINAP (Editor’s note: Kiev cinema equipment plant) that was in evacuation in Samarkand.

My grandparents lived with us and Sarah and her family lived somewhere else. We ate boiled water with some flour in the morning and in the afternoon we boiled some sugar beet and added a bit of citric acid to it. There were also some vegetables and tomatoes available. We survived on this food. My grandmother had ulcer and died in 1943. She was buried at the common cemetery in Samarkand.
I studied successfully at Russian secondary school in Samarkand. I was a shy and quiet girl, but I fought back like a fury when somebody tried to hurt me.

In 1943 my mother received a notification that my father was missing near Stalingrad. We loved him so much and hoped that he would survive.

After the war we returned to Kiev.

Aunt Sarah and her family were the first to go to Kiev with the plant where Sarah was working. By the time we came Sarah had a room in Kurenyovka where we stayed at the beginning. There was very little space and we slept on the floor. We tried to get our apartment back but we only received a smaller room in it. We lived in terrible conditions. My mother worked at kindergarten where she earned very little. My sister and I received pension for our father because he was commander of battalion and we could manage. My sister Dina went to the kindergarten where my mother was working.

My grandfather and grandmother managed to evacuate from Kiev in 1941. They reached Georgievsk and moved on to Samarkand, Middle Asia, in 3000 km from Kiev. It was very hot there. There was lack of potable water and plenty of fruit and vegetables and no water to wash them. Epidemics were a usual thing. In 1943 my grandmother died in Samarkand of some infection. She was buried at the Jewish cemetery in Samarkand. There was a big Jewish community in Samarkand. My grandfather went to the synagogue and celebrated holidays when he could manage. In 1945 grandfather returned to Kiev. He was a pensioner and went to synagogue every day and spent all his time reading religious books. We didn’t see each other often. In 1950 my grandfather died. He called my father before he died. We buried him at the Jewish cemetery in Kurenyovka according to the Jewish ritual. It was a tradition to read a prayer for forty days after somebody died. (Editors note: 40-day mourning is a Christian tradition. I guess, she may have mixed things up). It was to be done by older sons, but they didn’t know any prayers and we had to pay and an old man said prayers at the synagogue.

In Kiev I went to study at an evening school to complete my secondary education and took a course in shorthand and typing. About 1948 my sister Dina went to a Russian secondary school in Kiev. After finishing my course I got a job of a typist at the mining inspection committee. I worked there for a year before I received my school certificate and decided to enter Kiev Institute of Finance. Then I had an entrance exam in mathematic. I had it completed before time, when a young man sitting behind me asked me to give my work to him to copy it off. I gave it to him. When we came later to get to know the result of the test I saw on the list that I had a satisfactory mark and he got “excellent”. This was when I faced anti-Semitism. It was a general mood of these days. Newspapers continuously published anti-Semitic articles about murderers of doctors. So I understood that it was my last name that caused problems. So, I wasn’t admitted to this Institute. But then representatives from Moscow Institute of Statistics came to Kiev looking for somebody willing to study in their Institute. I was willing. Besides, I had all highest grades in my school certificate. I was admitted to the faculty of public economy planning without exams. I studied by correspondence. There was an affiliate of this institute in Kiev and I attended lectures every Sunday. I also continued to work as a typist. My boss valued me highly. He wanted me to become a member of the Communist party. He believed it was necessary for the one that wanted to make a career. I became member of the Communist party in 1960s. The process was simple for me. They had a schedule for a specific number of people to join the Communist Party. My boss insisted that I became a communist even though I was a Jew. I was a breadwinner in my family. My salary was 410 rubles. I lived with my mother and sister. It took me no time to mature. My mother was a tutor at kindergarten. She earned less than I did. My sister went to the 3rd form of a Russian secondary school in Kiev.

In 1952 I got a job of economist in Ugolsbyt (Editor’s note: acronym: “Coal sales”), a state department that distributed fuel between state enterprises and citizens. At that time many apartments were heated with coal and wood. My boss’ deputy involved me in public activities when he noticed my talents. I could speak well in front of audience and have a problem discussed at meetings. I had an excellent memory. When we had an audit chairman of the commission said it was the first time in his time when all files were so clear and complete. The affiliate of my Institute in Kiev became part of Kiev Institute of public Economy that I graduated.

In 1958 my sister Dina entered the faculty of technology at the Institute of Food Industry in Leningrad after finishing school. Dina met her future husband in Leningrad. He studied at the Academy of Arts.
In 1959 I married Isaac Sheenvaald, a handsome Jewish young man. He worked at Kiev mechanic plant and I met him at a party there. He was born to a very poor Jewish family in Kiev in 1928. I don’t know where his parents came from. Isaac finished lower secondary school in Kiev and went to study at the factory trade school to become a locksmith. In 1961 our daughter Marina was born. At that time my office was to be liquidated and my management arranged for my transfer to a higher-level coal department. I became an economist there. I was very devoted to work. And I was very strict with men. It was necessary to be so as there were mostly men around me.

In 1963 I received an apartment from the Ministry and my mother, my husband, my daughter and I moved to this new apartment. Before 1963 we lived with my mother and sister in our old apartment in Basseynaya Street. In 1960 our house was to be removed and we got a two-room apartment to move in. My mother retired in 1963 and helped me to look after my daughter. On Soviet holidays our Jewish and non-Jewish friends visited us. We partied and sang Soviet songs. We went to theaters and read a lot of Russian and foreign books. In summer my daughter and I often went to the Crimea. We didn’t face any anti-Semitism at this period of time. My daughter was doing well at school. She was a pioneer and Komsomol member. She was a very sociable girl and had many friends of various nationalities. We didn’t pay any attention to people’s nationality.

In 1963 my sister Dina married her artist, a Russian man. Her husband is a nice man and nobody in our family ever wanted anybody to marry specifically Jewish men. My mother believed that nationality didn’t matter and that it was more important for people to be happy. Dina never observed Jewish traditions in her life. But after she retired, about 8 years ago, she went to work in the community at the synagogue. She visits older people helping them with their housekeeping issues. She became deeply religious. Dina honors the Jewish religion. She may not observe all traditions according to the rules, but she is a true believer. I don’t know how she turned to religion. Perhaps, because she is single? She doesn’t have children.

My boss went to work at the Ministry of Construction materials and called me with him. I started working there in 1973 and understood that taking this job was my mistake. I was loved and respected at the coal department, my previous job, and in the Ministry of Construction I had to establish new relationships and watch that everything was done according to the rules. It was a very difficult time for me. I retired from the Ministry as soon as I turned 55.

Since then I spent my time in my country house or taking care of my mother that was very sickly.. My mother died in 2001 and I still grieve for her. There was a rabbi at her funeral – my sister insisted on that, although my mother had asked to observe no rituals. My mother had never observed any traditions.

I won’t tell you about my husband. We have been divorced for a long time and I don’t like to recall the time we were together.

My daughter Marina finished a Russian secondary school in Kiev. She didn’t want to continue her education and couldn’t find a job to her liking for a long time. She is a volunteer at a social services department and she likes it. She was married, but her marriage only lasted for 2 years. She divorced her husband. She has a daughter – Margarita. Margarita goes to a Jewish school. Margarita enjoys studying the history of our people, its traditions and religious holidays. Marina has attended synagogue for some time. She knows religious holidays and tells me how to celebrated them. We celebrate Pesach and Yom Kippur. I make Gefilte fish. We have matsah at home at Pesach. We don’t have such fancy table sets for Pesach as my grandparents did, but we try to keep our spirits high and that is what matters. Now I’m very attached to my country house where I can grow vegetables and fruit in my small gardens to make preserves for winter.

If I were considering emigration, I would go to the US. I believe it is the only country where Jews have a quiet life. My friends moved to Israel, America or USA in the end 1970s. We couldn’t move because of my mother’s condition.. Now we have no close relatives left in Israel and to go there one needs an invitation from a member of the family. I am very interested in what is going on in Israel. I believe it to be our ancient Motherland. I have cousins there – they invite me to visit them. I couldn’t go before because I had to look after my mother. The current situation there is tough and dramatic and my daughter, my granddaughter and I are in two minds about moving there. Now I think if Marina and Margarita decided to move to Israel I would follow them. There is nothing to hold me here.

Marcel Simon

Marcel Simon
Suceava
Romania
August 2006
Emoke Major

I met Marcel Simon at the Jewish community in Suceava, where he is a secretary. He is a calm man, who speaks very little, but concisely. Our discussion, which took place on a bench in a small park of Suceava, and during which he told me the story of his life only lasted for an hour. He was very nice, but I understood that he doesn’t like speaking very much, and especially not about his personal things.

My family background

Growing up during the war

After the war

Glossary

My family background

I didn’t know my paternal grandparents, they died before I was born. My grandfather was called Bercu Simon and my grandmother was Lipsa Simon. They lived in the village called Slatina, Suceava county – before it was called Draceni and belonged to Falticeni. [Editor’s note: Slatina is 30 km from Falticeni to the west.] They were merchants, they had lands, they traded and were quite well off. 

My father had a second cousin in Bucuresti, Bebi Leivi. She had two daughters, one of them was Rica.

My father had a brother in Cernauti. He was also Simon, but I don’t remember his first name anymore. He was a couple years older than my father, so he was born around 1900, since my father was born in 1904. He was an accountant. He had a family, one of his daughters was called Rita Simon, and her brother was Doliu Simon. I don’t know what happened to them. I think my father’s brother died before we returned from deportation, and we didn’t know anything about their family.

Father had another brother, Leib Simon, who had seven children. Five of them were buried in Falticeni. Three girls: Adela, Miriam and Rasela; and two boys: Lica and Licusor. They died at a young age, they were between 18 and 28 years old, – because one of them was a pressman and they contacted pulmonary tuberculosis from each other, they contacted the germ from each other. They died after World War II within 8-10 years. There were two other boys: Buma and Mendel, who emigrated to Israel. Buma left before Mendel, but he also died at a young age. He was an air-officer, and died in the first Arab-Israeli War in 1948. [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1948_Arab-Israeli_War] Their parents also emigrated to Israel, they died there. My last cousin, Mendel Simon, died 3 years ago [in 2003]. He was over 80. I saw him together with his wife 4 years ago. Mendel’s daughter, Miriam Kruger, still lives. She has two daughters and a son and lives in Rehovot [in Israel]. Her husband is called Baruch.

My father had two other sisters, Estera si Ruhla Simon, who lived in Suceava, they were single, the Jewish community from Suceava took care of them, and they both died in the same year, in 1975.

My father was born in 1904. His name was Herscu Simon, his Jewish name was Zvi – Hers means Zvi. Father had only completed elementary school. He did his army service in 1926-1928. He was a merchant.

My maternal grandparents lived in a village called Bosanci, 8 kilometers from here, from Suceava. My grandfather was called Leib Gingold, and he was a merchant and also had lands, just like my other grandfather. My grandmother, Leia Gingold died in 1939, she was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Suceava. My grandfather also died in Transnistria 1, in 1942.

My maternal grandfather had three sisters. One of them was called Sophie Gingold, and was born in 1888. She was a teacher of German and Yiddish at the Pedagogical School in Cernauti. Aunt Sophie wasn’t deported, she remained in Cernauti during World War II, and after the war she refuged here, to her sister Regina Weber, who had a house. She taught Talmud Torah and also Yiddish in Suceava. Aunt Sophie was a rougher woman. Being a teacher, she was stricter, she liked discipline, order. She helped us with our homework sometimes. She wasn’t married. Her sister, Regina Weber was married, then her husband died. Aunt Sophie and aunt Regina lived together. We had good family relations with them. We met and visited each other. Aunt Regina Weber died in 1970 at the age of 85, and in December 1975 Aunt Sophie also died.      

These two aunts of my mother’s, aunt Sophie Gingold and Regina Weber had another sister, Janeta. She converted to Catholicism and lived in Bucuresti. She had two daughters, who lived in Bucuresti: aunt Ghizi [Ghizela] and aunt Lidi [Lidia]. Aunt Lidi had a son, his name is Puiu Droniuc. He lived in Bucuresti for a while and before the Revolution 2 he emigrated to Germany. I don’t know anything about him.

My maternal grandmother had a sister, who had two daughters, Ghizela and Loti Strominger.

My mother only had one brother, he was called Max Gingold. With his wife and a girl he left Romania in 1948 with the help of the Frenkel family, a rich family from America. He wanted to emigrate to America, but I don’t know for what reason he couldn’t enter in America, and he stood in Cuba for 2 years. My aunt, her name was Hava, died there when the girl, my cousin, called Tamara Gingold, was 8 years old. My uncle was badly off at the beginning. Then he lived with a woman, she was Jewish, but they didn’t get along, and divorce wasn’t legal in America, so he only managed to divorce her after I don’t know how many years. He got to Canada with the help of some acquaintances from Bosanci and became a small retailer. He lived in Engelhart, s very distant city, at about 1000 kilometers from the polar circle. Uncle Max died in 1992.

My cousin lives in Toronto, she was a teacher all her life, and now she is retired. She divorced from her first husband, who was a lawyer, and has another husband now, her last name is Moscow now. Her children are adults, about 35-40 years old. Her son graduated a journalism university, he was a photo reporter in Japan. Her daughter lives in France, she is also a teacher as far as I remember. I don’t know my cousin’s children, I never met them. I wouldn’t recognize her either. She was on a trip with her husband in Israel for three weeks, and they called me at that time and I spoke with her a little in Yiddish. She also speaks Yiddish. You know, when you learn something in your childhood, it becomes part of you, wherever you would go, you still don’t forget it. But I haven’t seen her since 1948. You can imagine, she was 8 years old when they left. She is a bit younger, I was born in February and she was born in November. She was supposed to come to Romania next year [2007], but with an interpreter, with my brother’s daughter, who is a stewardess and speaks fluent English. My uncle from Canada had been in Romania a couple of times. He came and visited Bosanci and the people with whom he had spent his childhood. Last time he was in 1988, when he was about 83 years already, and met people whom he hadn’t seen since he had left.

My mother was Sidonie – Sidi. She was born in 1906 in Bosanci, completed four classes of elementary school.

Growing up during the war

I, Marcel Simon, was born in the village Bosanci on the 23rd February 1940. My Jewish name is Mendel. They called me Marcel in the family. I only have a brother, his name is Benito Simon, but they call him Beno. My brother was born in Suceava on the 28th July, 1941, he is 1 year and 4 months younger than me.

From the 9th October 1941 until 15th April 1945 we were deported to Transnistria 1. So if the deportation was in October 1941, I was one year and 8 months old, and my brother was younger than 3 months. We were in a place called Sargorod 3, together with my parents, my brother, my maternal grandfather, my uncle Max Gingold and his wife and daughter, my aunt, my cousin and my mother’s two cousins, Ghizela and Loti Strominger, and hundreds of other Jews.

My father told me what I am telling you. What can a one and a half years old child remember? I don’t know what we lived of. We got some support from different places, they worked by the day. Mr. Pietraru, our former president of the community told me, he was 20 years old, he worked at a flock, had different jobs. But there were very difficult circumstances, lice filled us, people died one by one, because of the misery, froze to death, starved to death and died of illnesses. There weren’t medicines, illnesses cut down the people. My father suffered of petechial typhus, he lost his toes, became handicapped.

Then there were the bombings when the German army passed, because the Russians were a couple kilometers behind them. And my father told me that there was a horrible bombing at that time, when everyone pulled back. We couldn’t hide, both my father’s legs were wounded, we were small children, and then he said: ‘Come what it may!’ And father told me that a German came in, I was small, blond, he took me in his arms and he started to cry and said that he had a child just like that at home and that the war was cruel and cursed. There were humans among them, too, not all the German army was made up of SS.

After the war

After the war we were badly off, because the communist era started, and you weren’t allowed to… [trade]. These were other times. And since my father didn’t have much schooling, he had various jobs. He worked in the commerce, was a night-watchman – odd jobs, so that he could raise us. My mother was a housewife. She dressed according to the fashion of that time. Modestly. At holidays a nicer skirt, a blouse, father wore a suit. Sometimes she bought us a new pair of trousers, new blouses, scarves or caps. My mother was just like the other mothers. She was very kind, she took care of us. Father was a stricter person, but he was very good-hearted and he cared for us. I remember that where we spent our childhood there was a hill, there was a slope until the foot of the Citadel and we sledded. But father kept on shouting: ‘Stay only an hour outside!’ And we, with the boys and girls forgot to come. Father came to us, he slapped us on the face, he reprimanded us. But what happened? Because we were warmed up, perspired and drank cold water and we got tonsillitis immediately…We almost suffocated. And I remember that father ran to dr. Weitmann during the night, he was a very good doctor. And we had to stay at home in warm, and got penicillin shots…that made us feel better in some time. But at that time there were really four seasons: winter was winter and summer was summer. Now everything has changed.

They brought us up well. Many times too well. Because in life sometimes it isn’t good to be too correct, too honest. True, these are good qualities, but many times they don’t help you! Because life is tough and you have to know to get on. Because that’s how life is. Now in our country there are rich people, very rich, we can say. But nobody knows the way they had made their fortune. And you aren’t allowed to accuse anyone unless you have evidence.

My parents didn’t want to go to Israel. I don’t know why my father didn’t agree to leave, he hardly supported heat, and when he heard what [temperature] was there, he used to say ‘I can’t live long there.’ And really, many people didn’t adapt there.

Most of the population in Suceava is [Christian] Orthodox, but there are Catholics, too – there are over 1000 Catholics. Among the Catholics there are the Polish, the Hungarians, there are Calvinists among them, too, and there are some Armenians and Ukrainians. But the relationship between the different nations has always been good. In the communist era, what can I say, we all suffered the same way. We all stood in queue, we lived though hard times when they gave bread on ticket.

Before World War II there were 5000 Jews in Suceava, after the war 2000 remained. So I did catch some [Jewish life]. In Suceava most of the Jews spoke Yiddish. But many spoke German as well. For example, if a Jewish family met a German family they spoke fluent German with each other. We spoke Yiddish at home. I learned German through the contact with the rest of the world. But I knew Romanian too, because this is the base language. Mrs. Salinger, who works at the Jewish community, being from Cernauti, says that most of the people there spoke German. 

As I child I went to a Jewish school, to cheder. Normally one went to cheder before school, but I went from 1946, after we returned from Transnistria. In the cheder we spoke Yiddish and read in Hebrew. I knew Hebrew really well. I don’t know it anymore, I forgot. I learned 3 or 4 years with a religion teacher, as it was customary at that time that people learned parts of the Torah. I remember that my teacher was an old gentleman, and we played, we fooled about, and he ran after us, he slapped us sometimes – in a friendly way. We started with the alef, bet – with the alphabet, and then the parts. We had to sing… It was a nice period! Even though times were tough and we were poor children. I don’t know anything of it, because I didn’t practice. You know how it is, a language can be learned by communication with people, not by memorizing and reading word by word. More than 60 years have passed since than, and I don’t remember many things from the cheder. But anyhow, there were many children, we were in groups. In a group there were 25-30 kids, just like a quite big class. Only boys, there weren’t any girls. Now, in the more modern period, even the girls went to the Talmud Torah. Mr. Pietraru, the former president of the Jewish community in Suceava told me, that even girls went, there are some pictures of it at the Jewish community.

I had a colleague and very good friend- Avi Haber. He is of my age, we spent our childhood together and we went to school together. He emigrated to Israel in 1964, he lives in Qiryat Tiv’on, close to Haifa. I saw him 4 years ago when I was in Israel for the third time. He was a Colonel of Justice and retired, but he still works. He is married, his wife is from Vienna and has three grown boys. Another Jewish friend I had is Manas Sica, who lives in a town called Qiryat Motzkin, has three daughters, but they never came back ever since they left.

In my childhood traditions were observed, though my father wasn’t an extremely religious man and there were difficult times, there were times after the war. My mother wasn’t especially kosher, but she observed what she could.

We observed Sabbath as we could. I remember that mother bathed us both, dressed us nicely and made a coilici [Editor’s note: Coilici is a variant for challah, similar to the word “kajlics“ used by some Hungarian speaking Jews in Romania. Both words have the origin of the Hungarian word “kalacs“.] – a challah, which is made for Sabbath –, lit two candles, said a prayer, father did the blessing, and then, since it was a holiday, we had a better meal, once a week. I remember that on Friday evening she made us some meatballs and after that she made a pudding for desert out of vermicelli with nuts and sugar, then my brother and I fought each other to clean out the bottom of the pan, because it was very delicious.

Father went to the synagogue, but only rarely, at the high holidays. He also took us to the synagogue on the high holidays. I remember Yom Kippur. It is very difficult on Yom Kippur, it [the service at the synagogue] starts in the morning, it lasts until 1 or 2 PM, and after that, with a break of 2-3 hours there is the closing. On the evening before that the Kol Nidre is recited. On Yom Kippur we, the children also fasted with our parents. When we were small we only fasted for half a day, but after the bar mitzvah we fasted properly. And at Rosh Hashanah we all went to the synagogue, and I remember that they blew the shofar. We have a man now, Mr. Zighi Blaustein – who blows the shofar on holidays, he used to be a drummer, he was never married and is 85 years old.

We observed the Pesach. We were poor at that time, we didn’t have possibility to get all new pots, as it was customary. During the Pesach one had to cook everything in new pots. Mother boiled them [the ones which were used every day] with lye wash, she made the lye wash out of sand and stone, she boiled them well, cleaned them and washed them. We tidied up the house, we lived in a house, gave the wall a coat of whitewash so that it would look clean, and she bought us each new clothes, as the possibilities allowed it. We had matzah. At that time azyme was made here too, now it comes from Israel. Now all these are tales, because very few observe the Pesach in a traditional way.

I don’t remember a Seder from my childhood. We observed it with my father at home, but I don’t remember, I was too small. One ate bitter herbs and matzah, made eggs. During the Pesach more eggs and potatoes are eaten, because it isn’t allowed to eat leaven. They made a kind of ‘ciorba de perisoare’ sour meatball soup made of matzah flour. And out of the matzah flour keyzel can be made too– a kind of ‘tocinei’ [similar to the Kartoffelnpuffer or latkes], but sweet. We bought wine from the community. We observed the Seder at home until I was in high school, until 1950 or so. But Seder is observed in fact in a larger community, at the Jewish community. But I have never attended.

I don’t remember Purim. I had bar mitzvah here in Suceava, but I really don’t remember that.

My brother and I went to school, to high school, just like the other kids. In 1956 I graduated from ‘Stefan cel Mare’ High School, here in Suceava. I graduated the 10 grade high school, it was so at that time. I took the entrance exam to university two times, I failed, and then my father’s illness came and I had to get a job, to earn money and support the family. Later I took the difference exams and I attended the Commercial High School and graduated in 1973. And from 1958 I worked for 40 years as an accountant at the Burdujeni Abattoir – Burdujeni is a district of Suceava.

In the meantime, my brother graduated high school in 1960. He also graduated from ‘Stefan cel Mare’ High School, but of 11 grades, and went to Botosani, where he finished a commercial technical school. And after that he enrolled to I.S.E. [Institute of Economical Studies] in Iasi, but he didn’t graduate, he completed 3 years and in the 4th year he emigrated to Israel, because of his friendship with his actual wife, and she had left earlier with her family –, and they got married. His wife, Pepi Malvina Simon, was born in Falticeni in 1950. And my brother worked in Botosani, he was an accountant in the industrial field, at the wood works – nothing has remained of that. After he enrolled to go to Israel, he was fired, that’s how times were, he worked for a while as a worker, and in October 1970 he emigrated to Israel with my mother. My mother said that she liked it there. She got used to being there, she took care of the girl, of my brother’s daughter for a while, when she was small.

In Israel my brother was very badly off at the beginning. He stayed at a hotel for a while, as it’s customary for the newly arrived. After that mother remained there, but he had to leave to work. He worked for some people, who took advantage of him. After a while his bosses saw that he was a smart and serious boy, and that he could handle things and worked, and little by little they promoted him. He was very talented, and a few years later he became the chief accountant of one of the factories. Because this concern, Isra Beton, – it is a very big construction company, the third biggest in Israel – has very many factories. And it went well, but because of the war and the actual situation there aren’t many constructions. But he is 65 years old and has 3 years until retirement. He has a 34 years old daughter [born in 1972], Ayla Iavetz, who is a stewardess at El Al. Her husband is from Argentina, but he was raised in a kibbutz. He used to be an officer, he left the army and now works at a company as a jurist. They also have a grandchild, an 8 years and a half old boy [born in 2003].

I have never been a party member, nobody asked me to enroll. Since I had an uncle in Canada I did the army service in a forced labor battalion unjustly- it was a foolish thing from behalf of those at that time. Those who had relatives abroad, who didn’t have a healthy social position etc, were persecuted. Just consider this paradox! This uncle from Canada really did bad to our file, my brother did his army service in Targu Mures at a normal unit, and I at a forced labor unit. He was the first to do his army service. We went one by one, because the other one supported the family, because my father had become ill in the meantime. And after he came home I left. My brother finished his army service in 1964, I left in 1965 and returned in 1966. I stayed 16 months, that’s how long army service was. I was at a railway unit. I was lucky to be an accountant by profession and I got on, because there were very difficult times. I worked at the accountancy. Our unit had made services with the soldiers, who were paid by the army. And I can say that my situation was a bit better. But the soldiers who worked caught really bad times. They worked at the Iron Gate [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iron_Gate_%28Danube%29], accidents happened, trouble happened, there were better and worse officers… and that’s how it was!

I went in the army from the Abattoir and when I returned they employed me there again. The company was about to go bankrupt in 1997, and since I had worked enough years, though I wasn’t of retiring age, I retired voluntarily. And I got unemployment-compensation for 9 months, and a compensation of about 16 millions. That compensation is a story in itself… It had been in banks, the bank went bankrupt, and after a year or so I got the money back. And from the 1st March 2000 I retired.

After a year [in 1998] I was asked to come and work at the Jewish Community in Suceava. And from then on I have been at the Community, I was a secretary and accountant, now I am a secretary. This is the story of my life – as one would say...

I got married here in Suceava. My wide, Aurica isn’t Jewish, she is Christian, she was born in 1943 in the village called Pomarla, in Botosani county. [Pomarla is 55 kilometers north-east from Botosani] She graduated the medical technical high school in Iasi and worked as a nurse and now she is also a pensioner. I don’t have any children. My wife has a married daughter who lives in Bacau, she is an engineer, her husband is an engineer as well, and they have two children. 

I have gone through many difficulties: I remained alone here, my house has been demolished, I have been married before, she was also Romanian, I have gone through a divorce and many other things…And practically I dealt with funerals. I arranged my father’s funeral, aunt Sophie’s funeral, her sister’s, other two aunts’ from my father’s side, Estera and Ruhla Simon, and another two cousins’ of my mother, Loti and Ghizela Strominger, they were also old, who were supported and who didn’t have anyone. And I am a kind of a grave mourner – as it seems. And at the Community I also deal with this, and it’s not too pleasant. There was someone recently whom I arranged and the cleaning woman, because he didn’t have anyone.

My father died on the 18th February 1969 at the age of 65. He suffered very much, he had a deformed arthritis. But he had a lion’s heart. He was buried here in Suceava. At that time there were Jews in Suceava and he had a normal Jewish funeral. The windows and the mirror are covered and the dead is put on the ground with the feet towards the door until they come and put him in the coffin. [Editor’s note: Most of the actions that follow the moment of death have as their background different beliefs, which didn’t only emerge in the culture of the Jewish nation. It’s a cultural anthropological fact that there are common customs, which the different nations share. At the time of death it belonged to the first tasks to open the window, stop the clock and cover the mirror. The window is opened so that the soul that is leaving should have free passing. The role of covering the mirror was so that the dead wouldn’t see himself (his soul leaving the body)- this would make leaving more difficult for him. All three actions, in similar form and explanations spread all across Europe. Ethnographical Encyclopedia, (death article).] There was a man from the Community, who used to come and wash the dead and clothe him. He dressed in cerecloth, as they dress him nowadays, too. It’s not the way it is at the Orthodox, where they usually dress one in good or new clothes. Cerecloth is made of white linen, a pair of trousers and a shirt are made, and over it, on the head a cloth is put, which covers the eyes. For those who were believers they put the tallith, too. And then they put him in the coffin. They keep the dead at home. But you know how it was: you die today, and within 24 hours at most, they bury you. We made the coffins. They aren’t normal coffins. They have to be made out of unplanned fir plank, they have to be dry like a box, and it is narrower at the feet, just like a man is. Nails are used, metal nails, because the coffin is closed. At that time there was a hearse, a carriage with a horse, which was owned by the Community, and the dead was taken to the cemetery with that. My brother and I, I remember, went in front of the dead and prayed in the cemetery. And women are buried next to women, and men next to men. The wife is next to the husband, but on the other side of the woman another woman is buried, not a man. And next to the man, another man. At the Jews there isn’t any kind of burial feast, as it is customary at the Orthodox. And the one who performs [the funeral] cuts the clothes of the relative of the dead, and you have to wear those clothes for 8 days. Practically he doesn’t cut it until it tears, it’s something symbolic, it shows that you have lost someone and a piece was torn from your soul. And men aren’t supposed to shave or had cut their hair for 30 days. And you have to sit 8 days on the floor  [E.M.: In Moldova I met the custom of observing eight days of shivah instead of seven days.], to wear only socks, and you aren’t allowed to leave the house, someone else has to do the shopping for you. This was possible once, but now it is very difficult. We couldn’t observe shivah, as it should be observed for 8 days, we observed it intermittently– we had to go to work. And after this 8 day period is over, after you had observed shivah, for 11 months you have to come to the synagogue every Saturday and recite the Kaddish – commemoration for the dead. I didn’t go because I couldn’t, I was at work. All these can’t be observed anymore. After 30 days a small ceremony is made at the synagogue, a kind of requiem, some prayers are said and challah and some drinks are brought to the synagogue. After a year, during this time the earth sets, you have to make the monument, to put a stone on the grave. A stone is made with both Romanian and Hebrew inscription.

I wasn’t at my mother’s funeral, because she died in Israel. She died at an old age home, because that’s the custom there. There is a custom there, which we don’t understand: the old people, who can’t take care of themselves, go to an old age home voluntarily. My mother lived in an old age home in Netania for a couple years. In 1983, when I was there with my brother and I visited her, I left with a bitter feeling. I said: ‘How come? She raised two children.’ In our country it is so: you raise three-five children, but in the end one of them takes it on and takes care of his parents until their death. In Israel they don’t. My brother said: ‘No, parents here become the children’s burden’. But I couldn’t reconcile with the idea that she died at an old age home. My mother died at the age of 79 in 1985 and I only managed to light a candle at her grave 4 years ago, in 2002. She was buried in Holon. There is a cemetery as big as a quarter of a city. It is a very big cemetery, and it is very well kept. They have all the information on computer. If someone from abroad comes and looks for a grave, they know it exactly, the row, everything.

I commemorate every year my mother’s and father’s death, they are two weeks apart. Usually Mr. Pietraru, who used to be the chairman, performed, and in the second part he prayed for the dead. And then I bring to the synagogue a ‘lechec’ [lekakh] – a kind of cake made with nuts or with honey, a milk-loaf, and a small bottle of alcoholic drink and some soda or mineral water. And I give a donation. The money goes to the community, because these are the sources of income of the Community. We don’t really have sponsors, because we don’t have many businessmen, and the income comes from community members’ fees, and contribution fee is received when the matzah is brought for Pesah, and at the fall holidays other donation.

When I go to the cemetery I light a candle for my father, I have two aunts here, aunt Sophie and her sister, I light for everyone from the family. They say that it’s even a bigger act of charity to light for a stranger, at one who doesn’t have anyone, because if you don’t light a candle for a relative you can go another time and do it.

The only thing I still observe from the tradition: on Friday evening I light two candles, two candlesticks, as it is customary. The only holiday I observe is Yom Kippur. Especially since my father died, he died in 1969, I really observe Yom Kippur. We go to the synagogue and I fast, I fast 25, even 26 hours. [Editor’s note: The fast starts at sundown, and ends on the next evening when the stars appear, it is usually a 24 hour fast.]

While I worked I practically didn’t have the possibility to go to the synagogue, because I worked on Saturdays. I worked at an abattoir, in which they worked for export, and we had to come to work even on Sunday [Saturday wasn’t enough]. And as the party was involved in everything, you couldn’t say no, they would have kicked you out at once. And one couldn’t observe the holidays. Older people who were already retired observed them. During the communism it wasn’t forbidden for Jews to go to the synagogue. Even though at the [Christian] Orthodox they said that it was forbidden for those who were members of the party, but even so, more discretely, they celebrated the holidays. They went to the Sfantul Ioan Monastery, opposite from my place, and celebrated Easter. And some took refuge at monasteries so that they wouldn’t be seen.

I go to the synagogue more often since I have stopped working and since I have been active within the Community. And we are kind of obliged to do so practically because of the nature of our position. There are other men in Suceava, but they don’t come to the synagogue. And you can’t force someone to go to the synagogue, this is a matter belonging to everyone’s conscience. But if you do believe in God and you want to pray, you can even pray on the mountain top, as they say. But in my opinion it counts for one to take the responsibility for his own deeds... They say that you have to go to the house of God, where are more people, so that your prayer would be listened, but at the same time you also have to stop committing sins. I tried all my life to respect the moral principles. I don’t come from a very pious family, and not very cultured either, but my father taught us from the time we were small and we respected these: not to steal, to respect our bosses, to respect the leaders of the country, to respect the laws, not to do harm, not to denounce... And I respected these things and my conscience is clean.

From all my family, with all my family tree, I am the only one who remained here in Romania. I was born here and I will die here, because at my age there is no point in emigrating. I would have some place to go, but it’s too late. I could have also gone to Israel. But I decided not to go, because I was convinced that I couldn’t have got used to living there, firstly because of the climate, and also the language seemed very difficult to me. Many people didn’t get acclimatized in Israel because of the language. My brother speaks it fluently, you can’t get a job otherwise, but he tells me that people are more modest, less learned, with less schooling, who have lived in Israel for 30, 40, 50 years and still don’t speak Hebrew [Ivrit] well. Not to mention writing… I was on good terms with my brother. We had a different temper. He was a little bit more nervous, he smoked. I resembled more to my mother, and my brother resembled to my father. And you see how fate is. My father was buried here and I will die here, and my mother is buried in Israel, and he will die there.

But I visited there three times: in 1975, in 1983 and in 2002. I liked it, it’s a nice country. Jews came from all around the world, who, in my opinion, teamed up and have transformed the country. The southern part is a bit more like a desert, but there is a nice town there, Beersheba, I have visited it. I have been in Qiryat Tiv’on at my colleague’s, Avi Haber, I have been to Qiryat Motzkin, at my colleague’s, Sica Manas, I have been in Rehovot, at my cousin’s Miriam Kruger. I have been in Tel Aviv, I saw two towers made by rich people, Jews from Argentina or Brazil, similar to those which were hit on the 11st September. One of them has 64 floors, the other one 48 floors. There are very nice shops, supermarkets and restaurants on the ground floor.

In my childhood I lived in a house, in a small house on 10 Mirautilor Street. After that I moved from there, because I inherited a house from aunt Sophie right across from the market. After I invested money in that, it was demolished, and they gave us a very small amount of money at that time. 5 years ago with this restitution law I also made an application, because they told me that they would give me the value difference from that time. But I haven’t gotten anything so far. Now my wife and I live in a flat and we live off our pension, we don’t have any other income.

Glossary

1 Transnistria

Area situated between the Bug and Dniester rivers and the Black Sea. The term is derived from the Romanian name for the Dniester (Nistru) and was coined after the occupation of the area by German and Romanian troops in World War II. After its occupation Transnistria became a place for deported Romanian Jews. Systematic deportations began in September 1941. In the course of the next two months, all surviving Jews of Bessarabia and Bukovina and a small part of the Jewish population of Old Romania were dispatched across the Dniester. This first wave of deportations reached almost 120,000 by mid-November 1941 when it was halted by Ion Antonescu, the Romanian dictator, upon intervention of the Council of Romanian Jewish Communities. Deportations resumed at the beginning of the summer of 1942, affecting close to 5,000 Jews. A third series of deportations from Old Romania took place in July 1942, affecting Jews who had evaded forced labor decrees, as well as their families, communist sympathizers and Bessarabian Jews who had been in Old Romania and Transylvania during the Soviet occupation. The most feared Transnistrian camps were Vapniarka, Ribnita, Berezovka, Tulcin and Iampol. Most of the Jews deported to camps in Transnistria died between 1941-1943 because of horrible living conditions, diseases and lack of food.

2 Romanian Revolution of 1989

In December 1989, a revolt in Romania deposed the communist dictator Ceausescu. Anti-government violence started in Timisoara and spread to other cities. When army units joined the uprising, Ceausescu fled, but he was captured and executed on 25th December along with his wife. A provisional government was established, with Ion Iliescu, a former Communist Party official, as president. In the elections of May 1990 Iliescu won the presidency and his party, the Democratic National Salvation Front, obtained an overwhelming majority in the legislature.

3 Shargorod

A town in Ukraine, also known as Sharigrad. During World War II Jews from Romania were deported to various towns in Transnistria, which was then under German occupation. Large-scale deportations began in August 1941, after Romania and Germany occupied the previously Soviet territories of Bessarabia (today the Moldovan Republic) and Bukovina. Jews from the newly occupied Romanian lands (Bessarabia and Bukovina), as well as from Romania were sent over the Dniester river to Transnistria. The severe living conditions, the harsh winter and a typhus epidemic contributed to the large number of deaths in the camps established in many towns of Transnistria.

Sura Milstein

Sura Milstein

Botosani

Romania

Date of interview: August 2006 and August 2007

Interviewer: Emoke Major

I visited Mrs. Sura Milstein at her simply and modestly decorated apartment located on the ground floor of a block of flats near the Public Garden of Botosani. Ever since her husband died in 1989, she has been living alone; her health is pretty frail, she is assisted by the Jewish Community in Botosani who employed a woman to help her with the household chores in exchange for the donation of her apartment to the Community. She speaks with difficulty, but she answered my questions with goodwill, her language denoting her former profession, that of teacher of Romanian language and literature.

My family background

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family background

My father was born in Dorohoi. [Dorohoi is located 38 km north-west of Botosani.] I believe his mother’s name was Estera Sulimzohn and his father’s name was Usher Leib Sulimzohn. My grandfather was a shopkeeper, he had a hosiery store – he sold hats, stockings, shoes. My father inherited his store. I didn’t get to know the grandfathers from my father’s side. They died when I was very little [in the early 1920’s].

My grandmother had a sister whose son – I forget his name – was a physician in Bucharest. His sister-in-law, the sister of his wife – Zeli Suliteanu – was a folklorist, she worked at the Folklore Institute. I know that she too is very old at present – she is probably assisted by the Community. We no longer keep in touch, we don’t even call each other on the phone, but I believe she is still alive. I read the Jewish Reality, and I find out about any demise there is. [Editor’s note: The Jewish Reality, a Magazine of the Jewish minority in Romania, which was issued between 1956 and 1995 under the name of ‘The Magazine of the Mosaic Cult,’ and under the name of ‘The Jewish Reality’ after 1995. It includes articles related to the social and cultural life of the community and it comprises a page in English and one in Ivrit.]

My father had only 1 brother, Haim Sulimzohn, who lived in Saveni, here, in the county of Botosani. [Saveni is located 37 km north-east of Botosani.] He too was a shopkeeper, he too ran a hosiery store. He was older than my father. He had a family as well, he had 2 boys. I no longer know whether they are still alive. They lived in Bucharest, but I believe they left to Israel as well. One of the boys was a pharmacist, the other was a physician.

The family ties with them weren’t that great, as the Sulimzohn sister-in-law from Saveni was greedy and she dragged us through law-courts with inheritance lawsuits, things like these. This is why the family connections never improved afterwards. My father has always been tormented by this sister-in-law and her lawsuits. There were two houses. A house where the store was as well, and another one-storied house farther [up the street]. And they fought over these two houses. In the beginning we lived in the one-storied house, it was more spacious, more beautiful. Afterwards, we moved in the house where the shop was, and the other house was offered for rent, after which it was sold, I don’t even remember how it happened. And she kept asking and asking, she always wanted more money, the margin for the house, that is. Then the war was upon us and Jews didn’t have time for lawsuits anymore.

Afterwards, during the war [World War II], when the racial persecutions began 1, she and her family also moved from Saveni to Dorohoi and they were reconciled. They didn’t live with us, they found something to rent. Their financial situation was better than ours. I don’t think they were deported to Transnistria 2, as we were, they stayed in Dorohoi. They died in the meantime, for they were old, but I don’t know any details. The two boys moved to Bucharest after World War II. I visited the one who was a doctor when I was sitting for exams in Bucharest, but I never visited the one who became a pharmacist. He made my stay welcome, but that atmosphere of chillness had still lingered in the family.

My father, David Sulimzohn, was born in Dorohoi. He only attended primary school, he did not continue his studies. He probably attended the cheder. He fought for the Romanian army during World War I. He did his military service during the war – I don’t know how many years the military service lasted in those days, 2-3 years. He also received a medal that he had framed and he kept it on the wall. He wasn’t wounded during the war. They used to tell us this and that about the war. My grandmother [from my mother’s side] used to tell us stories about the war as well. She told us that her son, Nathan, had fought in the war too, and she told us terrible things. It reminds you of Rebreanu, of ‘Itic Strul as a Deserter’ – he wrote a short story about a Jewish boy who was persecuted by an anti-Semitic officer. [Editor’s note: Itic Strul, as a Deserter’ is a short story written by Liviu Rebreanu (1885-1944), which was published separately in Sburatorul in 1919 and as part of a volume collection in 1921. Rebreanu: Romanian writer and playwright, author of important social novels such as ‘Ion,’ ‘Rascoala’ (The Uprising), ‘Padurea spanzuratilor’ (Forest of the Hanged)]. My uncle suffered too, but not as much as her. He told us about a Jewish classmate of his who was killed. There were utter horrors. My father told me he was kept prisoner by the Germans for a period of time. And when the war was over they let him return home.

My mother’s parents were Basea and Usher Soifer. My grandmother’s maiden name was Rabinovici, for my mother had a cousin in Paris, France – Patainic Rabinovici –, and my mother’s mother and his father were brothers. That’s how it was in those days, before World War II, those who had financial means would send their children to study abroad in France, to learn. And he settled there. He was an economist, an accountant. He would come to visit us in Romania every now and again. I didn’t meet his wife, she was probably a French woman. My grandmother had a sister, Rifca, who lived in Mihaileni. But then, when the evacuations started, she went to Bucharest to live with one of her daughters, Rasela. My mother also had a cousin in Galati – aunt Rebecca –, and she was the daughter of my grandmother’s sister. She married in Galati, her husband’s last name was Solomon. My grandmother’s sister also had a son who was a physician and lived in Cernauti. I believe he died during World War II, I never heard from him since.

My grandfather had a brother whose name was Schechter. My grandfather’s name was Soifer, the other’s name was Schechter – that’s how the registrar’s office worked back then. And they were brothers. My grandfather’s brother lived in Dorohoi. I can tell you that he attended the synagogue on a regular basis, he was learned in the field of religion. He didn’t have a position at the synagogue, but he was known as a learned man. And in his youth he traded timber from the woods together with his brother, my grandfather. He died long before World War II, and is buried in Dorohoi. He had several children: there was Sura, Simcu, Toni, Clara, Aron, and Saie. Sura lived in Dorohoi. Her actual name was Sura, like mine, but she later married a Christian, and her husband changed her name to Silvia – I don’t remember their last name, I forgot it. She died last year [in 2006], she was 91 or 92 when she died. Simcu lived in Dorohoi as well, he is buried there. He was an accountant. He was married, his wife’s name was Ficuta, and they have a daughter, Mirela – but I don’t know her last name –, she lived in Bucharest, then she went to Israel, she got married there. The name of my mother’s cousin, Toni, changed into Broder after she married. She didn’t have a job, she was a housewife, and her husband was a Party activist [The Romanian Communist Party] – I think he held a high position in the party, since they helped them to leave Dorohoi and settle in Bucharest. They had an only daughter, Reli; she went to Israel together with her mother, I think, and married a doctor or something like that – I don’t know their family name. They live in Hadera. Aron and Saie Schechter died a long time ago here, in Romania. Clara had settled in Israel with her husband, they both died over there.

The grandparents from my mother’s side lived in Bucecea. [Bucecea is located in the county of Botosani, 22 km west of Botosani.] My grandfather worked in the woods of a boyar. I don’t know what he did exactly, he went into the woods and took care of things, supervised – in the employment of a boyar. And my grandmother was a housewife. They had a nice house, with three rooms and a kitchen. My grandfather’s financial situation was better. They also raised livestock, but that was before I was born. They didn’t raise fowl. I don’t even know what animals they raised, it was either a horse or a cow. And it was there, in that shed, that my grandfather improvised a bathtub. He ordered a wooden bathtub, he bought a small cauldron, and we’d take baths there with walnut leaves and salt. We could stretch inside the bathtub. Only the family used this bathtub. They had a small flower garden. My aunt – my mother’s sister –, was skilled in these things, both in gardening and everything else. When they painted the house she worked alongside the workers and helped them choose the colors. She was very talented, an all-round person. She could also sew, she had a sewing machine – she sewed for the household – a dressing gown and the like.

My grandfather died in Bucecea when he was 68-69, approximately. I was around 10-12, so it must have happened in 1932-1933. I didn’t attend his funeral. They left me and my sister at home with Toni – a first-degree cousin of my mother’s –, and my parents went to Bucecea, at the funeral.

My mother had two older brothers, Nathan and Marcu, and a younger sister, Ana. Their actual name was Soifer, and they took the name of Safir. And this younger woman, who is my aunt, went by the name of Ana Safir. But officially they never changed their name.

Nathan, Nachman was the eldest. He moved to Bucharest after World War I and became an accountant. His wife was a pharmacist. They had a son, Relu – his pet name was Luli. Their son was born long after I was born. We are cousins, but this is how it came to pass, he was much younger than me, we were born more than 50 years apart. My uncle settled in Israel with his family [after World War II]. He left out of patriotism, as it was in the days when people were leaving, but also for the sake of their son, so that he could have a future – he was still little, a child or in his teens. And indeed, he made a career for himself. He was an aviator, now he too is retired, and may God keep him safe for he is an aviator and I believe they are recalling reservists into service. Uncle Nathan was employed in Israel as well, he also knew Hebrew, and he worked as expert accountant. He died before my mother did, he was actually older than her. Luli came to visit me this summer [in 2007]. He has a family of his own, he is married and has two daughters, grandchildren. 

As for the other brother, Marcu, he lived in Grenoble, France. He went to France in order to study, he graduated the Commercial Academy and settled there, he had a job there. He used to come to Romania every now and then. The Germans shot him. The people he lived with loved him very much, they were older French Catholics and they loved him as if he were their own son. And these hosts offered him a hiding place during World War II, they kept him there, protected him all the time, but they couldn’t hide him towards the end of the war. German soldiers took him out of the house and shot him. 

My mother’s sister’s name was Ana and she was married to Leon Solomon. I was about 8-9 when they married. They lived in Herta [nowadays Gertsa, Ukraine], near Cernauti, my uncle owned land, forests over there. They had an only child, Suzana, who is 10 years younger than me. When World War II broke out and people fled Herta, they fled as well. He was doing forced labor, and she and their daughter fled on the last train and went to Bucharest where she had a brother, Nathan. After the war, her husband returned as well, they lived together in Bucharest. He had a job, he worked in a factory, while she worked for private individuals: she knitted women’s underwear – it was fashionable in those days –, she earned some extra money. She had a sewing machine, and she was good at it. Her husband died in Bucharest, he is buried there. After her husband died, my aunt – she was ill by then – left to Israel with her daughter. Their daughter, Suzana, got married when she was very young, while she was still here in Romania. She was very beautiful, people said she was the most beautiful in the family. My aunt died in Israel, some 10 years ago, I believe. My cousin is still alive, she is living in Nazareth, and she calls me on the phone from time to time to lift my spirits. She is an engineer, as a matter of fact. She lives alone with her husband, they didn’t have any children.

My mother, Haia Sulimzohn, was born in Bucecea. She was 6-7 years younger than my father. She didn’t attend secondary school either, she stopped going to school after graduating primary school. But she had a private tutor – employed by my grandfather –, and she took French and German lessons. She was a beautiful woman. She was more severe than my father, he was gentler than her.

My parents’ marriage was an arranged marriage, as was the custom in those days. They didn’t talk about their marriage, but they had both a civil and a religious ceremony. We lived in Dorohoi. My mother was a housewife, and my father was a trader. We had a hosier’s shop in Dorohoi that my father inherited from his father. The store was located in the house where we lived, in the old downtown area of Dorohoi. The street was called Grigore Ghica, opposite our house there was a cinema which no longer exists. The house was as old houses are, the rooms were placed like in a train carriage, without separate entrances, and it was very dark inside – we had the lamps burning during the day as well. We had two rooms and there was a small kitchen in the courtyard with a tiny adjoining room that we built. The store was in a larger room in front of the house – it was the only room that was spacious and well lit.  

Growing up

As for myself, my birth name was Sura Sulimzohn, I was born in 1922 in Bucecea, in the county of Botosani. I spent my holidays there when I was little, at my grandparents’ house in Bucecea. And before going to school I spent more time in Bucecea than I did at home. My childhood in Bucecea was the brightest period of my life.

Bucecea was a very small, modest town, with a few small shops selling odds and ends. There were linen shops – they were called manufactures –, and a couple of shoe stores. I also remember that we used to go and buy white candles – Jews use white candles. And Bucecea – which seemed appealing to me, nice – was a small town in the fashion of old Jewish towns: with one main street and a couple of side alleys. And for me it was heaven on earth. There were villages around the town of Bucecea – I forget their names – which fell under its jurisdiction. Our house [the grandparents’ house] was located on the main street near the end of the town, and I used to go strolling towards the village and pick flowers on the way. There was a synagogue not far from our house and I would walk past it and politely greet the rabbi… The rabbi lived in the courtyard of the synagogue, and there was a lime tree in front of the house that had the nicest fragrance!

There was – I believe it still exists today – a small park in Bucecea with a remarkably good spring water. Bucecea had exquisite drinking water. And plenty of it too, even the city of Botosani was supplied with water from Bucecea. There were a few benches there, and I used to play with the other children in that park. I had girls as friends, but I don’t remember any of them. We used to play tipcat. The game is played using a larger stick and a smaller one, and you strike the smaller stick with the larger one and throw it up in the air. But you had to make it land inside a certain circle – we used to draw it on the ground using chalk or a piece of stone. And you have to run after the stick, it is still you who has to pick it up. And there was another game: we drew one small square on the ground using a piece of chalk, then two small squares, then one, then two once again. And we remained outside the squares; you had to throw the pebble and make it land inside the square, then jump and kick the pebble along with your foot from square to square. We also played hide-and-seek.  

It was my grandmother who looked after me. My grandmother was skilled in all sorts of things, she was a very good cook. She also baked pastry – apple strudel, walnut strudel… She spoiled me. Also, – before getting married and moving to Herta – my grandmother’s sister lived in Bucecea, and she loved me very much. I was spoiled for a long time as a child. I was the first grandchild in the family and for 7 years I was the only child. And when my parents happened to scold me for my mischief, I would ask to go to Bucecea. And when my grandmother scolded me, raised her voice at me – I would ask to return to Dorohoi. So much so that a friend of my aunt Ana’s called me ‘Voyaging jackanapes’ – on account of the fact that no sooner was I in Bucecea than I was on my way to Dorohoi.

For 7 years I was the only child [in the family]. Afterwards, there was my sister as well, and she was a suckling; then my cousin was born as well, after my aunt married. My sister, Erica, was born in Dorohoi 7 years after I was born, namely in 1929. She came to Bucecea as well, but she was little. We didn’t play together that much. She followed me around, but a 7-year gap is a big difference.

My grandmother was tougher than my grandfather. My grandfather was kinder, more forgiving. When he had business to attend to and he came to Dorohoi, he would take me with him by train. And he would take me along to state offices, he used a piece of string – of a certain length – and tied it around one of my coat buttons and pulled me along. My grandfather was kind and pious. He was bearded and wore a kippah on his head – that’s what Jews wore to cover their head. My grandmother wore her hair short and covered her head with a scarf. She also had a wig. It was custom-made, I believe it was from Poland. It was nice, made of dyed, brown hair, and it had a loop at the back. And on Saturdays, on holidays, she wore the wig – she would cover it with a scarf – and she would go to the synagogue. She went to the synagogue on Saturdays. Only men attended the synagogue on Friday evening, the women went to the synagogue during the day, on Saturday. She also wore the wig when she visited people. She had a few friends and they used to meet, especially on Saturdays. My grandmother wore ordinary dressing gowns, with buttons all the way down to her feet, and I wore them myself for I enjoyed playing, dancing in these dressing gowns. They were made of marquisette – that’s what that fabric was called –, it was transparent, for summer wear – you also wore it as a dress. And I would titivate myself with her dressing gowns and put on performances for the neighbors. She had dresses and she also had dressing gowns – her financial situation was fairly good. But she wore dark, sober colors.

My grandfather dressed in the German fashion, he wore a coat and a shirt. He was very religious, both of my grandparents were. My grandfather always attended the synagogue – I believe he went there every evening, or maybe every morning. My grandmother read prayers in the morning, too. She used to wake up early in the morning and sit in the dining room and read prayers. She was very religious.

The Sabbath in Bucecea was very nice. We had candlesticks with candles, my grandmother baked knot-shaped bread at home. For every holiday people baked colaci [elongated, knot-shaped bread] – knitted bread with egg and a little sugar. [Editor’s note: Colaci or coilici are variants for challah, similar to the word ‘kajlics’ used by some Hungarian-speaking Jews in Romania. These words have the origin in the Hungarian word ‘kalacs.’] They were nice, they rose nicely. She baked them herself. And she placed wine on the table and two large, nice colaci covered with a piece of cloth. When my grandfather was no longer allowed to drink wine, they made wine out of raisins – it was a sort of wine –, and they used it during the Kiddush – they recited a prayer for blessing the wine and the bread.

On Friday evening, when my grandfather returned from the synagogue, before eating dinner, he would intone the Saturday table prayer, he would bless me, and afterwards we all sat down to eat. As an exception, on Friday night we ate meat dishes, fowl or beef – as was the case. And noodle soup and pudding for dessert. And on Saturday afternoon it was the same, only on Saturday we didn’t light the fire and the food was kept in cold storage, in the cellar, and the meal was a hotchpotch with fowl meat and vegetables, which had the consistency of gelatin and was served cold. Sometimes people came to light the fire for us, but one couldn’t always have them come over because it was a small town, inhabited entirely by Jews. There was a village at the end of the town, but sometimes you could find a Christian to light the fire, and some other times you couldn’t. The Friday lunch meal wasn’t anything specific. We had meatballs, also made from fowl, we bought fish when we could find it in the stores – fish wasn’t always available in the stores.

My mother was less of a zealot. She lit candles on Friday evening, but she wasn’t that strict about the separation of meat and milk. The rule about having separate dishes for milk and meat is a very complicated business and, in addition, you must have a lot of dishes. She did have separate dishes for meat and milk, but she would mix them. As for washing the dishes, she washed them all together.

She didn’t have a wig, nor did she cover her head. She attended the synagogue only during the autumn holidays, that was all. My grandmother attended the religious service every Saturday, but she didn’t. My mother used to light 2 candles. Since my grandmother was more devout, she had 4 candlesticks and she lit a candle in each of them; my mother had 2 candlesticks and she would light two candles and recite the prayer. The candlesticks were placed on the table where we sat down to eat.  

My father wasn’t religious. He didn’t go to the synagogue frequently, he too attended the religious service only during the autumn holidays, that was all. Also, he didn’t recite the prayer before the Friday evening dinner. Business was slow, and they didn’t always have wine for Saturday either, there was nothing with which to perform the ritual. My mother didn’t bake knitted bread, we bought bread from the town. 

On Passover, my mother was more scrupulous, more serious, and more severe. We used special dishes on Passover, which we kept in the attic, wrapped in paper – we took them down on the eve of Passover and only used them during the 8 days, at the end of which they were placed back in the attic and weren’t used until the following Passover. And the house had to be cleansed of chametz. They placed a few crumbs [of bread] in the corners of the rooms and then my father would take a feather and sweep the crumbs, place them in a wooden spoon and burn them, that’s what I remember. They also recited a prayer. Both my father and my grandfather did it. And the shammash from the synagogue would visit each household on the eve of the Passover holidays and make a list of all chametz food to be found in each house. And this chametz was kept somewhere hidden and nobody touched it, and it wasn’t used at all during Passover.

For 8 days you weren’t allowed to eat anything leavened. You were allowed to eat pasca [matzah], and cornmeal – mamaliga [polenta]. We bought the matzah at the Community Center, it was the Community that supplied the matzah. For a while, it was also baked locally – before World War II people baked it in Dorohoi –, but afterwards they stopped baking it locally and it was received from Israel. We ate the same dishes on Passover as we did on all other holidays: noodle soup, the meat that was boiled in the soup, and pudding – for the third course. People made noodles from crushed matzah mixed with eggs and then left to dry; these were added to the soup as a substitute for regular noodles. On Passover, people made cakes from matzah and walnut – we called them macaroni. 

On Passover, my parents observed the seder evening. They prepared it as tradition requires – with matzah and prayer rituals. We had a table that we pulled next to a divan and then placed a few chairs on the sides. We, the children, sat on the divan; I used to read a novel in the meantime – I wasn’t religious. My father and my mother would recite what needed to be recited and they would make that traditional gesture of opening the door for the prophet Elijah to enter. And when I was in Bucecea my grandfather would trick me, for I was little and I believed him. ‘But – I used to say – I see the glass hasn’t been drunk from.’ For there was a glass set aside especially for the prophet Elijah, but it didn’t show at all [that he might have drunk from it]. And I wasn’t too gullible. ‘But – my grandfather would say – what do you expect, he can’t possibly drink a full glass at each and single household!’ My grandfather used to send me to open the door. I would ask my grandfather in advance the 4 questions that you have to ask. He asked me, he taught me how to ask them. We rehearsed this in advance, he would instruct me. And on the seder evening my grandfather would lie on the bed on one side. And the custom was to place the afikoman under the pillow – my grandfather would hide it there every time, and I found it, of course I did! I wouldn’t get anything as a reward. I wouldn’t find it at home, in my family, my father didn’t observe this tradition. In the families where there were boys, these customs were respected more closely…

The custom on Purim was to prepare sweets and various dishes, and guests would come over – family friends – in the evening, wearing disguises. The adults wore disguises, the children didn’t. The disguises were simple, modest, people only wore masks. The main thing was to have one’s face covered. Those wore good times, I believe it was in the 1930’s. When I was at my grandfathers’ place, I also saw musicians come over on Purim – they were gypsies who came and played music, and they were paid for it. They played traditional music, Jewish and Romanian. They even spoke Yiddish, they lived among Jews.

And there was a feast organized on Purim. Regular dishes were served, but there were also humantase [hamantashen] and honigleicheh. Honigleicheh is a flat bread with rose jam filling and walnut, it was sliced in little squares. The rose jam is made from rose petals, it has small scraggy leaves. Its color is pink to red, it smells a little of roses. Especially in the north of Moldavia, they still sell roses for making jam, mainly during spring. And people still prepare jam – the elderly housewives.

On Chanukkah the custom was to light candles, an additional candle on each successive evening. We didn’t have a menorah for this. But we placed a small candle on a piece of wood. And the service candle, which is used for lighting the other candles, was a bit to the side, but still aligned with the other 8. They were placed on the table. We never had toys for Chanukkah. (We had a domino game at home. My father had a domino game from his parents, and relatives came by our house and they all played domino in the evening. The parents, that is, the children didn’t play domino.) But we received money. They used to give us a few coins, Chanukkah gelt. We bought sweets with that money. Later, when they no longer afforded to give me that much, they gave me less and I needed more.

I liked reading stories, and when I had money I used to buy a storybook. Creanga was my favorite. [Editor’s note: Ion Creanga (1837-1889) is a classic of Romanian literature, acknowledged for the craftsmanship of his yarns, fairy tales and stories; his most celebrated autobiographical work is ‘Amintiri din copilarie’ (Memories of My Boyhood).] Ana Safir, my mother’s sister, was the one who looked after me and bought me books every now and then. She gave me money or went with me to the bookshop and asked me to choose a book that she would then buy for me. Also, there were libraries in Dorohoi. There was the Jewish Community library and the state library.  

I wasn’t involved in Zionist movements. We only had – like every household – one of those blue boxes 3 with magen David, and we, the family, used to put some spare change in it, and someone would come to collect it. We had that box since 1925-1927, I think.

I spoke Yiddish with my grandparents. I didn’t speak Yiddish with my parents that much – mainly Romanian. In time, I even almost forgot Yiddish. And I refused to learn how to write, how to read, I – ridiculous – didn’t want to. There was an elderly woman in Bucecea who went to people’s houses to teach children [how to read and write Hebrew] and she was a little senile, she smelled of urine; I didn’t like her and I didn’t want to learn. As for the cheder, I stopped going there. I don’t even know if my sister went to the cheder.

I went to school in Dorohoi. I started attending primary school when I was 6 – in 1928. There was also a Jewish school – but no high school –, yet my parents enlisted me at a state school. I studied for 4 years there, then I completed 8 years of high school in Dorohoi, at the State High School ‘Queen Mary.’

During the war

I graduated high school in 1940. That was the last year when [Jewish] people could attend state schools, and starting with the fall of 1940 it was no longer possible 1. But Jews founded a Jewish high school. They brought 2 unemployed Jewish teachers from Siret and a Jewish girl from Bucecea itself, who had a degree in French and was unemployed, too; they also brought a few lawyers knowledgeable about teaching who filled the remaining departments. And they purchased school manuals – as long as they could find them – and that high school was in existence until I don’t know when, for we were deported in the meantime, in 1941. The high school kept providing education for the children and parents that were left there.

I tutored every now and then, I would take a child in junior high school and tutor him with home assignments for all subject matters. From 1941 we all wore the yellow star 4. We wore it until we were deported. People were no longer wearing it when we returned home. We were allowed only 1 hour a day to go out to the market, to go shopping, that was all. It also depended on the street sergeant, if he happened to be a kind person he would allow it, but if he were harsh as in our case, he wouldn’t allow us to go out. On some occasions we didn’t have any bread in the house, because my father didn’t manage to buy any. The queue for bread was quite long at the ‘Federala’, as the bakery was called, and his turn to buy came late and people chased him away. He didn’t buy bread anymore. And there were all kinds of obligations: to hand in men’s shoes and clothing for the soldiers – if you didn’t have any, you had to buy it and hand it in. [Editor’s note: All Jews were obliged to surrender clothes to the authorities, the reason being that the (Romanian) army and society needed them. Jewish properties, businesses, factories, lands, farms were confiscated. In the area of Banat this process had already started in December 1940. Although these were governmental decisions, they were not entirely legal, actually they were not based on an actual law. Usually the orders were followed on the basis of verbal commands of the legionary leaders. During the Antonescu regime all these decisions became authorized and continued during 1941 and 1942. (Source: Victor Neuman ‘Evreii din Banat şi Transilvania de Sud în anii celui de-al doilea război mondial’ (Jews from Banat and South Transylvania during the years of World War II), in Romania and Transnistria: The Issue of the Holocaust, Curtea Veche Publishing, 2004, Bucharest, p.152.)]

In the meantime, the law regarding small localities was passed: Bucecea and Mihaileni [Mihaileni is located 21 km west of Dorohoi.] and Saveni, and all these other small localities – the small market towns – had to be evacuated, and they were evacuated to Dorohoi, the capital city of the county. Our grandmother came to live with us – everybody did what they could. The deportation of the Jews from Dorohoi was scheduled in three stages. Two groups of people left while the third stayed waiting. We left with the second group. They were probably choosing certain parts of the town. And since we lived in the old town center, we were included in the second group. Actually, I didn’t even know much about what was happening, for I stayed mostly inside. Afterwards, I was deported to Transnistria together with my parents, my sister and my grandmother. The street sergeants let us know. They would come and tell us to have our backpack ready as we were about to be deported.

The trip to Sargorod lasted for 3-4 days; we were locked in cattle carriages watched by the army. The carriages were crowded, there were, say, approximately 40 persons in one carriage. The train stopped a few times, but we didn’t get anything [we weren’t allowed to get off the carriages].

We left in November 1941 and returned in December 1943. We stayed in Sargorod 5 the whole time. Life over there is beyond description. We lived in a house – a Jewish family from Poland lived there as well. Their entire house had been occupied and a couple of rooms were given to those who came from Dorohoi. We were around 4 families crammed in a single room, and that room had no windows anymore – the glass was broken –, and we slept on the floor, each family sleeping in a corner of the room, we had managed to get some straw and that’s what we slept on – I suffer the consequences now, the rheumatism. Well… there is much to be said. I had typhus. A hospital was improvised there, in Sargorod, and I was taken there for a few days. I also had typhoid fever… I don’t even know how many diseases, no sooner would I recover than I’d fall ill again. The first winter was… [awful] My grandmother died – she was elderly. And then – my father. Our father was suffering from a heart condition, he had a stroke and died. The filth killed him soon after our arrival in Sargorod. We arrived in autumn – he died in winter. He was around 50 when he died.

Forced labor was compulsory. From our family, they took me – since I was a small girl – only 2-3 times to pick tobacco. And they would give us a loaf of bread – the pay for a day’s work. We stayed alive by selling our shirts, our things, what we had brought along with us in a backpack. We sold these to Ukrainian peasants. Some folks from Bukovina knew their tongue, Ukrainian, and acted as intermediaries. They took your things, sold them, and brought you back some money. German Marks were used there, that was the currency they used in these occupied areas. People were also using Romanian money, but to a small extent. And there was a small market in the town, and you could buy potatoes there – we also ate the potato peels. And when we still had money to buy food with, we’d buy something and boil it on a stove – it was called a ‘pripicic’. There was a sort of metal lamp on an oval table and you placed wood chips in it, that’s what you used as firewood; the upper part was a round pipe where you placed the pots, and that’s where we cooked, turn by turn, all 4 families, a warm broth from what we managed to find.

Finally, in the end, when it was possible, we received support, help from Bucharest. My mother’s brother sent us some money every now and then and that’s how we survived. He sent it by mail, and we received it through the Community. A Jewish Community had been formed in Sargorod by the Jews from Bukovina: from Suceava, Campulung, from… The Community received the money by mail and called us and handed it over to us. But this was later, around 1942 or 1943 – I forget when it was exactly. About a year – shall I say –, not long before returning home.

The Community had set up a bathroom with showers, and we were taken there for a shower from time to time. We were also given a shower before leaving Sargorod. They took us and washed us clean, there was a drying stove for our clothes, and they took us to the train station; we were boarded on train carriages and on our way to Dorohoi. We traveled from Sargorod to Dorohoi, I forget for how long. It wasn’t long, 2-3 days and 2-3 nights. But it no longer made any difference for us that we were lying and sleeping on the ground, for we were used to it. I was with my mother and sister. We were three. That’s all that was left of our family… Two of us were left there, buried in common burial grounds. I wouldn’t even know where to go… [to visit their grave.] If I wanted to go to Sargorod, Ukraine, what could I see? A common burial ground?

When we returned from Transnistria, we found our house occupied by other people – there were even Jews among them. They settled there randomly. We had some relatives, friends, and we went to live with them. I lived at our friends’ place in the beginning, Meirovici was their name – Moise Meirovici and his wife, I forget her name – they were older than my parents. And it hasn’t been easy for me. Afterwards, little by little, I found some girls from the countryside whom I helped with their home assignments, and they would bring me flour, food, even some money. Afterwards, there were various deeds, papers – I don’t know what to call them –, and they hired me as well to record, jot down – I forget what kind of papers they were –, and they gave me some money for it. I also received help from the Community.

And when I managed to earn a little money, we rented a small room – a sort of shed, I don’t know what it was – and the three of us lived there together. We received some planks from the Community and that friend of ours – Moise Meirovici, a skilful man – made a bed from them. And that’s what we had. Some of our relatives and former neighbors returned some of our things, for they spirited away certain things after we left. But when we returned in the state we were in, they gave us a piece of rug, well, they lent me an item of clothing… Also, we left some bed linen with some neighbors – they were Jewish, too, their name was Goldhammer –, who had left for Bucharest in the meantime; they were rich people, actually, and they sent it back to us.

And then I made an address to the Town Hall, and little by little… we got our house back. I had relations. I knew the mayor because his daughter was a former classmate of mine. Her name is Lovinescu – if she’s still alive, I don’t know if she’s still alive –, she’s Lovinescu’s niece who lives in Paris. [Editor’s note: Eugen Lovinescu (1881-1943) was a Romanian literary historian and critic, literary theoretician and cultural sociologist, memorialist, playwright, novelist and short story writer.] Eugen Lovinescu had a brother in Dorohoi who was mayor during that period when the authorities withdrew, leaving the city without leadership. I don’t know how he was elected, but we had a mayor, we had a Town Hall, a few institutions were running again. So the mayor himself helped me. He came over and made quite a fuss requesting that they leave the house – a Jewish barber lived there.

It took over a year until we finally settled in the house. It was difficult. They didn’t give us back the entire house right from the start. They only gave us the rooms in the back, while they still occupied the front part of the house. The small kitchen was no longer there, it had vanished. It was old and probably it wasn’t that sturdy, what do I know… So at first we lived in the two small rooms in the back. We entered the house through the adjoining street and went out of the house through the courtyard in the back. And various offices were put up in the front part of the house. For a while, it housed a barber’s shop, then a shoemaker’s shop, then a syndicate – I forget which syndicate was housed in the front room. But the mayor helped me and intervened and they evacuated the house and it was returned to me entirely.

After the war

And then, gradually, life returned to normal, meaning that I was employed. For in the meantime, this mayor protected me, I received a job at the Courthouse, I was a court clerk for a few months – for I had qualifications, I had been to school –, then I was secretary for the Prosecutor’s Office. These were special institutions organized by the population that hadn’t left Dorohoi. There were also Romanians who didn’t flee and remained there. Some people fled to who knows where… to Ardeal [Transylvania]…

Laws were passed that offered us protection [Editor’s note: Mrs. Sura is referring here to the Voitec Law 6], I entered the Faculty of Letters in Bucharest, as I had relatives there – my mother’s sister –, I could live with them. I attended the faculty from 1945 till 1949. I didn’t actually live in Bucharest throughout the 4 years, I attended under the optional attendance system. I would stay there for 1-2 months at a time – I would take a leave of absence from work without pay. After I graduated the university I entered the educational system from where I retired as a teacher [of Romanian language and literature] in 1977. I enjoyed my work as a teacher. I wouldn’t have chosen it, had I not liked it. There were even some discussions: some of my relatives wanted that, since I had acquainted myself with the work at the Courthouse, I should study Law. But I didn’t want to. I chose what was to my liking.

My mother didn’t get a job. She was a housewife, she had no qualification. Neither did my sister, as she was little, she was 7 years younger than me. My sister was in her second year of high school when we left for Transnistria and she stopped going to school then; she didn’t resume her studies when we returned. We were in dire straits. I had to provide for the three of us: for myself, my mother, and my sister. And my uncle Leon – the husband of my mother’s sister – placed my sister in one of those Jewish hostels where they prepared you for going to Israel. And she stayed for a short time in that hostel in Bucharest and then she left to Israel in 1947 or 1948. Officially, her name was Erica, but they called her Edna in Israel. I don’t know why, but she had her name changed in Israel. I don’t know what job she had there – whatever she could find on arriving where they sent them from that hostel. We only received mail indirectly, through aunt Ana – because she had no job, she wasn’t afraid. There was a time when you weren’t allowed to have connections in Israel, so we didn’t. And we received news indirectly… After a period of time, it was allowed, and we wrote to each other.

My sister met her future husband, Max Sinai, in Israel. He is from Romania, too, from Darabani – the market town of Darabani – located near Dorohoi –, he raised cattle for a living in Israel. [Darabani is located 38 km north-east of Dorohoi.] They married in 1964 [Editor’s note: probably in Bat Yam, that is what the wedding photograph reads, the photograph rosmi031]. My sister died around 1980, I forget the actual year. And her husband calls me on the phone once in a blue moon. He is still alive and is living in Israel, but I don’t know which city they moved to.

I came to Botosani when I got married. I so-called sold the house in Dorohoi, but I sold it for a song, I gave it away almost for free to a slyboots doing business over there. I haven’t been to Dorohoi in a long time. I used to go there in the beginning, when I had just moved here in Botosani – I also had a relative in Dorohoi, Sura Schechter – but I stopped going afterwards. I know that Dorohoi itself is a different place now, more developed… Our house no longer exists at present, it was completely demolished. They built blocks of flats on that piece of land.

My mother came to Botosani as well and lived with me. She died here, in Botosani, in 1963 or 1964. She is buried in the Jewish cemetery – she has a grave, unlike my grandmother. I used to go to her grave when I was still able to do so, now my health no longer allows it.

My husband, Bernard Milstein, was from Botosani. He was about three years older than me, so he was born around 1919, something like that. He had an older brother, Isac Milstein, he too is dead. He lived here in Botosani, he was an accountant. He was married but didn’t have any children.

We met through a common acquaintance and got married around 1962 or 1963. We had no religious ceremony performed, we were both afraid to do it. My husband didn’t really talk much, he wasn’t a very talkative person. But he was kind, he got along very well with my mother, his mother-in-law. I was a teacher, and he – chief accountant at the Town Hall. He had graduated high school, had no higher education, and yet he was chief accountant at the Town Hall. He would have needed a diploma, but he received an exemption, he was exempt from needing higher education as he was very skilled and the institution needed him.

I didn’t have any children. Neither me, nor my sister. I think we developed this infirmity in Transnistria. When we arrived there – my sister was younger, she hadn’t yet reached that age –, but I had started to have my menstrual period, and it stopped occurring for a couple of years – until we left there. It was because of the cold, the hunger, the filth… everything. 

I have never been to Israel. I was afraid of flying. I had high blood pressure ever since I was young and I was afraid to fly on an airplane so I didn’t go there. Neither did my husband. But here, in Romania, we would travel every summer – until his legs failed him because of a medical condition. During Communism we received tickets from the Syndicate and we would travel. It was good for me – if I hadn’t been year after year to the seaside [the Black Sea], at [lake] Techirghiol, perhaps I wouldn’t have been able to move at all. You can imagine, sleeping there for two and a half winters on the ground and nothing but straws… I underwent medicinal mud treatment sessions at Techirghiol. I also went to Dorna [Vatra Dornei], and I don’t even remember where else I have been.

I don’t observe almost any Jewish tradition anymore. Humantasch [hamantashen] and honigleicheh on Purim – that is all. But I can’t prepare them any longer – the lady from the Community comes over and prepares them for me. I no longer light candles on the Sabbath, I have forgotten all customs. I stopped observing the traditions after I got married. My husband observed them even less than I did, he was an atheist. He didn’t even believe in Communism. He didn’t even want to be a member of the [Communist] Party. I don’t know what his father did for a living, he too worked for some boyars, and there was something wrong with his personal file. And he was afraid to join the Party, lest they should rummage through his file for information about his father. It could be possible that they urged him to do it, but he stood his ground and didn’t join the Party. And he was a good accountant, they promoted him, made him chief accountant of the Town Hall where he worked until he retired.

My husband died in the year when the Revolution 7 took place. He died in summer, in June 1989, and the Revolution broke out in December. He is buried here, in the Jewish cemetery in Botosani. The Community prepared his body for the funeral. There is a funeral chamber at the cemetery where they take care of all these things. There no longer was any rabbi to conduct the religious ceremony. There were older Jews empowered to perform the rites. But it is harder and harder now – they are fewer and fewer. I sat shivah for 8 days [E.M.: In Botosani, I have often come across the custom of sitting shivah for eight days instead of seven.], and I was in mourning for 1 year. I did this even though complete mourning is not compulsory in the Jewish tradition, only a black apron – that’s what people normally wear as mourning. But I wore a completely black mourning attire – it wasn’t even difficult, I was old by then and had black clothes.

I sat on the ground for eight days on a small pillow, with my back leaning against the bed. Well, I’d get up to move and walk when I needed to, but I never sat on a chair. I had friends and relatives who saw to it that I had food to eat. During the 8 days of sitting shivah, the mirrors are usually covered, but I had no mirrors in the house that I could cover. The period of intense mourning lasts for a month – it is called sheloshim –, after which you go for a stroll and recite a certain prayer. For during the four-weeks period the soul of the departed wanders around the house, and you recite a prayer on that occasion, by means of which the soul is released, so to speak. I recited this prayer – I received the book containing the prayer from the Community – while walking outside around the entire house. And I hired an older, more religious Jew through the Community, I paid him and he recited the Kaddish for an entire year after he died, every day during the evening when they perform the evening ritual at the synagogue.

I built a very beautiful monument for his grave. I made an effort, I knew somebody who contacted a foreman in Piatra-Neamt who erected the monument from black marble. Now, as far as I’m concerned, I have a place next to him, but entirely modest, an ordinary monument – however, it did cost me 10 million lei. And I’m waiting for my turn to come…

My life changed after the Revolution in that I have aged and become ever more helpless. There’s no way around it. For me, what does it matter how people live abroad? At first, poor me, I nurtured illusions that I would retire and go to every movie and theatre play, that I would go everywhere. We have a theatre here, in Botosani, and a Philharmonic. But you end up not going anywhere, you are ever more helpless. Life gets increasingly lonely, withdrawn… There was a time when my friend from high school used to visit me, but now she too is ill. She is somewhat older, around 3 years older than me. We weren’t classmates, but be that as it may, we knew each other from high school. And, even though I live across the street from the block of flats where she lives, I can no longer walk up to the 4th floor.

As a Transnistria deportee, I receive that German pension which came more and more irregularly lately. I kept receiving an address requesting me to certify I was still alive. And I received the money, but perhaps its delivery was delayed. In any case… I receive nothing from the Romanian authorities. The Community helps me, because I donated the apartment [I live in] and everything inside it to the Community. Time was when there was a canteen – the Community Canteen –, and it was actually easier. There was a man who brought me food from the canteen. But now, for the past 5 years or so, there has been no canteen anymore. Poverty and few people. There are two ladies at the Community, and one of them comes to see me twice a week and it is she who cooks for me. I’m no longer able to do anything… If it weren’t for her, I’d be six feet under for a long time now. I am very weak.

Glossary

1 Anti-Jewish laws in Romania

The first anti-Jewish laws were introduced in 1938 by the Goga-Cuza government. Further anti-Jewish laws followed in 1940 and 1941, and the situation was getting gradually worse between 1941-1944 under the Antonescu regime. According to these laws all Jews aged 18-40 living in villages were to be evacuated and concentrated in the capital town of each county. Jews from the region between the Siret and Prut Rivers were transported by wagons to the camps of Targu Jiu, Slobozia, Craiova etc. where they lived and died in misery. More than 40,000 Jews were moved. All rural Jewish property, as well as houses owned by Jews in the city, were confiscated by the state, as part of the ‘Romanisation campaign’. Marriages between Jews and Romanians were forbidden from August 1940, Jews were not allowed to have Romanian names, own rural properties, be public employees, lawyers, editors or janitors in public institutions, have a career in the army, own liquor stores, etc. Jewish employees of commercial and industrial enterprises were fired, Jewish doctors could no longer practice and Jews were not allowed to own chemist shops. Jewish students were forbidden to study in Romanian schools.

2 Transnistria

Area situated between the Bug and Dniester rivers and the Black Sea. The term is derived from the Romanian name for the Dniester (Nistru) and was coined after the occupation of the area by German and Romanian troops in World War II. After its occupation Transnistria became a place for deported Romanian Jews. Systematic deportations began in September 1941. In the course of the next two months, all surviving Jews of Bessarabia and Bukovina and a small part of the Jewish population of Old Romania were dispatched across the Dniester. This first wave of deportations reached almost 120,000 by mid-November 1941 when it was halted by Ion Antonescu, the Romanian dictator, upon intervention of the Council of Romanian Jewish Communities. Deportations resumed in the beginning of the summer of 1942, affecting close to 5,000 Jews. A third series of deportations from Old Romania took place in July 1942, affecting Jews who had evaded forced labor decrees, as well as their families, communist sympathizers and Bessarabian Jews who had been in Old Romania and Transylvania during the Soviet occupation. The most feared Transnistrian camps were Vapniarka, Ribnita, Berezovka, Tulcin and Iampol. Most of the Jews deported to camps in Transnistria died between 1941-1943 because of horrible living conditions, diseases and lack of food.

3 Keren Kayemet Leisrael (K

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

4 Yellow star in Romania

On 8th July 1941, Hitler decided that all Jews from the age of 6 from the Eastern territories had to wear the Star of David, made of yellow cloth and sewed onto the left side of their clothes. The Romanian Ministry of Internal Affairs introduced this ‘law’ on 10th September 1941. Strangely enough, Marshal Antonescu made a decision on that very day ordering Jews not to wear the yellow star. Because of these contradicting orders, this ‘law’ was only implemented in a few counties in Bukovina and Bessarabia, and Jews living there were forced to wear the yellow star.

5 Shargorod

A town in Ukraine, also known as Sharigrad. During World War II Jews from Romania were deported to various towns in Transnistria, which was then under German occupation. Large-scale deportations began in August 1941, after Romania and Germany occupied the former Soviet territories of Bessarabia (today the Republic of Moldova) and Bukovina. Jews from the newly occupied Romanian lands (Bessarabia and Bukovina), as well as from Romania were sent across the Dniester river to Transnistria. The severe living conditions, the harsh winter and a typhus epidemic contributed to the large number of deaths in the camps established in many towns of Transnistria.

6 Voitec-law

named after communist minister of education Stefan Voitec, and adopted in 1946. According to this law all those (regardless of their nationality) who had to interrupt their studies during World War II could take exams and apply for high school or university following an accelerated procedure.

7 Romanian Revolution of 1989

In December 1989, a revolt in Romania deposed the communist dictator Ceausescu. Anti-government violence started in Timisoara and spread to other cities. When army units joined the uprising, Ceausescu fled, but he was captured and executed on December 25th along with his wife. A provisional government was established, with Ion Iliescu, a former Communist Party official, as president. In the elections of May 1990 Iliescu won the presidency and his party, the Democratic National Salvation Front, obtained an overwhelming majority in the legislature.

Ietti Leibovici

Ietti Leibovici (nee Davidsohn) 
Botosani 
Romania 
Interviewer: Emoke Major 
Date of interview: September 2006 

Mrs. Ietti Leibovici is a very welcoming, warm person. She lives alone in a block of flats in a two-room apartment dominated by an exemplary cleanliness and order.

Entering her apartment, and learning that she was born in Vatra Dornei – located in Bukovina –, I thought of the pride of the elderly inhabitants of Bukovina

– including the Jewish population in that area – with regard to their German upbringing, which sets them apart from Moldavians.

  • My family background

My father’s parents, so my grandparents from my father’s side, as well as his brothers and sisters, were born in Botosani. My grandfather’s name was Leizar Davidsohn, and my grandmother’s name was Slima Davidsohn. Both my grandmother and my grandfather had several brothers and sisters, but they were living in America.

They left to America in the 1900’s or during World War I, and they corresponded with my grandparents. But I no longer know anything about them. They may have grandchildren or great-grandchildren still living there [in America], but I don’t know them.

My grandfather was a butcher. And, as it happened in those days, he often bought cattle and slaughtered them himself. He slaughtered them at the animal slaughterhouse, and then he used to take the meat to the meat market in Botosani, where every butcher had a stall of his own, and the meat was put out for sale there.

My grandmother was a housewife, she took care of the children, then the grandchildren, as they do nowadays as well. I knew them, I loved them very much. But it wasn’t until I was 14 that we became closer. I will recount later on the circumstances in which I arrived in Botosani.

They were religious people, my grandmother kept kosher very strictly, they used to observe all holidays very closely, they used to go to the synagogue. My grandfather used to go to the synagogue on Friday evenings, on Saturdays, holidays, but also when there were no special occasions, during the week – there were many Jews in Botosani and religious service was performed during the week as well, and he used to attend it.

My grandfather died here, in Botosani, in 1947, and he is buried here. My grandmother died in Rishon LeZiyyon, in Israel, around 1959-1960.

The grandparents from my father’s side had 7 children: my father was the eldest, followed by Buium, then Lotti, Clara, Ana, Zalman, and Lica who was the youngest of the children. None of them is still living at present, but there are their children, their grandchildren, and they are all living in Israel.

Buium Davidsohn was a butcher. He lived in Botosani. His wife’s name was Adela and they had 3 children: Anuta, Celu and Izu. They were older than me. Iosi Manas was Anuta’s husband. They lived in Burdujeni, Suceava. [Ed. note: At present, Burdujeni is a neighborhood of the city of Suceava.]

Izu Davidsohn got married in Bucharest in 1956 – I attended his wedding. [Editor’s note: There is a photo about it: ROILE008.jpg] My uncle died in Botosani around 1961, I believe, and she emigrated to Israel with Anuta. The 2 boys emigrated before they did. Anuta is still alive, the other 2 are dead.

Lotti’s husband’s name was Sandu Schwartz; they have a daughter, Ada. He was a shopkeeper. Initially, they left for Israel with their daughter around 1960-1961, but they didn’t stay there for long. Their daughter met a young man from Canada who was visiting Israel on a trip. They met, they liked each other, she married him and they left to Canada.

Being their only child, her parents followed her there. That’s how they arrived in Toronto, Canada, around 1965-1966. I visited them in Canada around 1982. For I was visiting some cousins of my mother’s who were living in New York – I stayed in New York for 2 months –, and I went to visit them for a month in Canada.

My aunt and my uncle are dead. She was the first to die, around 1990, followed by my uncle in 2000. And, after their death, I’ve lost contact with my cousin. Ada has a daughter, Blanche.

Clara and Ana lived in Botosani, and they emigrated to Israel in the 1950’s 1. Clara was married to Nathan Deutsch, while Ana was married to Srul Ifrim. Nathan Deutsch was a carpenter, but I don’t know any details about Srul Ifrim. Clara had a daughter and a son who died in Israel, but they were already grown-ups by then. Ana had no children. These 2 sisters of my father’s died in Israel as well, in the 1980’s.

Zalman was a shop assistant in a shop in Botosani, and so was Lica. Zalman was married to Idola, and they have 2 daughters: Pepi and Ana. Zalman left to Israel with his family after World War II, I believe he died around 1996-1997. Cousin Pepi is living in Haifa, she is married – Pepi Super is her married name –, and has 3 children. Ana is living in Israel, too, she is married, has 3 children as well, and she already has grandchildren.

Lica Davidsohn was married to Mina, and he has a son, Hari, and 2 daughters, Cerna and Tili. Lica died in Botosani in an accident, he was crushed by something that fell on him inside the shop, and he died – I believe it was in 1949. His wife and children left for Israel, the children were still little at the time.

All 3 of them are still living in Israel, they have families there. Cerna changed her name to Sharona when she arrived in Israel, her name is now Sharona Iener. Tili changed her name too, but I don’t remember her name or her family name.

My father’s name was David Davidsohn. He was born in Botosani around 1900, I believe. I think he graduated secondary school – they attended 7 grades back then. My father owned an ironmonger’s shop in Botosani – before he got married – where he sold other products as well.

I was told later on that my mother’s family came to Vatra Dornei from Poland, I think. Or was it my grandfather… it had something to do with Poland. The name of my grandmother from Vatra Dornei, from my mother’s side, was Rosa Laufer. My grandfather’s name was Iancu Laufer.

But he died before I was born, I only knew my grandmother. He had died many years before I was born. Grandmother was a very kind woman. She loved her children, she loved us very much, her grandchildren. And the children loved her in return. They looked after her afterwards, when she was ill. She died around 1939.

My mother had two other sisters – Ana Laufer, Maly, and Sabina Laufer –, and a brother – Iosef Laufer. Her brother was older than my mother, while her sisters were younger.

Her broher was married to Mali, and they had 2 children – 2 daughters. One of them, Pepi, was 3 years older than me, the other, Ietti, was 1 year older than me. My uncle was my father’s partner at the shop. The entire family died in Transnistria 2.

The sisters weren’t married. I believe they were employed. I remember there was a pavilion where mineral water was sold in the Public Garden in Vatra Dornei – they brought water for the visitors –, and the cadet, Sabina, used to conduct a band there – something like that, I remember it as if it were a dream.

She was either doing volunteer work or she was employed there, the whole matter is foggy in my mind. I couldn’t be any clearer. I think the older sister worked at the Community [the Jewish Community in Vatra Dornei]. That’s as far as I recall. They both died in Transnistria. They were young when they died – 21-23, around that age.

My mother’s name was Janeta Davidsohn. Her Jewish name was Seindla. I suppose she too was born in the 1900’s – given the fact that I was born in 1931.

They met either through a matchmaker or when my father happened to travel to Dorna and met my mother… These are suppositions, I didn’t get to ask him these questions. I was 12 when mother died, there wasn’t enough time for her to tell me all these things. Then, when my father returned after the deportation, he remarried, and there were things left untold, things that I would have wanted to learn, to know, but they remained unspoken.

My father was from Botosani, and he married my mother, who was from Vatra Dornei. And he stayed in Vatra Dornei as well after they married. My mother didn’t work, she had no regular job, and my father was in charge of the store. The store was located downtown. I forget what it was called, but he ran it with my uncle, my mother’s brother, Iosef Laufer. It covered the space of a two-room apartment and they sold hardware, nails, they even sold lime there.

75% of the population of Vatra Dornei was Jewish. There were 2 streets in the center of the city. As you walked away from the train station, there was Ferdinand St., which was crossed by the main street – larger than the one coming from the train station –, Carol St.

And there were stores on both sides of the bridge leading to the city: manufacture shops, footwear, stands, newspaper stands, grocer’s shops, fruit vendors, dairy shops, restaurants. And most of them were Jewish. There were a few shops belonging to Christians as well – there was a shop belonging to a Greek, for instance, where you could buy coffee, halvah, specialties like these.

  • Growing up

I was born in Vatra Dornei in 1931. The grandfather from my mother’s side died long before I was born. We have the custom of naming children after dead relatives. And, had I happened to be a boy, they would have named me Iancu, after my grandfather. But given the fact that I was a girl, they translated the name of Iancu into Ietti. I don’t know how it is done, probably the initials have to coincide, Iancu begins with an “i,” and so does Ietti. My Jewish name is Ita [Ite]. I was an only child.

My mother had 2 sisters and 1 brother, all of whom lived in Vatra Dornei – the brother was married, he even had 2 children. We all lived apart, and at a certain moment we decided the entire family should unite. We moved in a larger house with several apartments, and everyone had their apartment.

So my parents and I lived in one apartment, my mother’s brother lived in another apartment with his wife and two children, and my mother’s sisters lived with their mother, meaning my grandmother. There were 5 rooms, 2 kitchens and 1 basement, where the laundry was located. And indeed, we were a very, very close, loving family.

My cousins and I were like sisters, there wasn’t much that could come between us. We were together all the time, we ate together, passed the time of the day together, and the age gap wasn’t that great. We were of close ages and we got along very well.

We weren’t that close with our grandparents in Botosani and my father’s family – uncles, aunts, cousins. We always visited them on Christmas, we went on a two-week holiday, I had a holiday from school, too; we used to visit them on Easter as well, but that was about it. They used to come to Vatra Dornei as well. We were always together, the relatives living in Vatra Dornei, day after day, hour after hour.

My mother was more severe with me. I was with her most of the time. But nevertheless, she overlooked many of my mischiefs, it was only later that I became aware of that. For it was very difficult to convince me to eat, and I was very picky about what I would eat. And in order for me to eat, my mother had to hold me in her arms.

Even the cocoa with milk, which was served at 4 o’clock, I would drink it only if she held me in her arms and gave me to drink. It was still her who had to feed me. But my birthday came, and she invited children over. And then she said: ‘Look what, I will tell on you to the children, I will tell them that you wouldn’t eat by yourself, that I have to feed you.’ Well, that cured me. I was big enough by then. But I was spoiled.

My father’s native tongue was Yiddish, and my mother’s was German. But my mother spoke Yiddish as well, and so did the grandparents from my mother’s side, while father himself learned German in the meantime. My native tongue is German – we spoke German at home. I had a cousin whose name was Ietti as well.

And when I was in kindergarten, we went to the same kindergarten. And when the pedagogue would call us: ‘Ietti!’, both of us used to stand up. And thus, it remained settled: ‘Kleine Ietti’ and ‘Grose Ietti.’ Kleine Ietti means small Ietti, ‘Grose Ietti’ means big Ietti.

That’s how they called us at home as well, ‘Kleine Ietti,’ ‘Grose Ietti.’ I attended a regular [state] kindergarten, where there were children of all nationalities: German, Jewish, Romanian. That’s where I started speaking Romanian. The pedagogue spoke German as well, but she had already started introducing Romanian.

Religious life was observed piously. And to digress, I rebuke myself many times for not being able to do it. Food was prepared as laid down by our religion, every custom was observed. We had separate dishes for milk, meat. On Friday evenings, the table was laid with decorum, observing every custom for Friday evenings. It was the same on Saturday, it was a holiday, we didn’t work, we didn’t do anything, we observed the Sabbath. My parents didn’t go to work on Saturday. I don’t recall who used to light the fire, I believe there was someone who lit it for us.

My mother didn’t raise fowls, she bought them. She took the fowls to the hakham – there was no question of doing it otherwise. Both my mother and my father would go to the hakham, but it was mostly mother who did it, for my father was busy. But sometimes he used to go too, in the morning, to buy meat. As a child, they wouldn’t take me to the hakham to see how the animals were slaughtered, I think they actually forbade it.

My mother didn’t wear a wig, nor did my grandmothers. The wives of rabbis had to wear their hair cut short – and I believe the custom still exists today –, and cover it by means of a wig.

My father would regularly go to the synagogue on Friday evenings, on Saturdays, on holidays, without fail. But he used to attend the service on regular days as well, during the week. I remember he used to go to the synagogue whenever the prayer for the dead was recited, when he had to bring something, have a ceremony performed –, or, as was the case, if he was summoned there for a special purpose.

But, come what may, he wouldn’t miss the religious service on holidays and on Saturdays and Fridays. I used to go with them myself. But I used to stay close to my mother.

The synagogue in Vatra Dornei was very beautiful. And there were stairs inside the synagogue, and there was a box up there, a balcony where the women were seated. There was no curtain, one could see and hear the entire religious service unobstructed.

A rabbi would perform the religious service. It was beautiful. But there were 2 synagogues in Vatra Dornei: the large one, where my parents and grandparents always used to go, and there was another one on Main street, near the railroad, a little passed the train station, in the corner. I believe both of them were Orthodox.

It was quite impossible for all of us to eat together during the week, as some used to come home to eat earlier, while others would come at different hours. However, a large table was laid on various days and everybody attended, and we all used to eat together.

On holidays, everybody attended the dinner table: on Friday evenings, on Saturday at lunch, and on major holidays. We always had meat soup with noodles on Saturdays. They also used to cook steaks, they prepared all sorts of dishes.

My mother also made ciunt [chulent], but not very often. Often enough that I remember it. You prepare it from beans – and, if possible, from large beans –, but you also add buckwheat grits and meat. You also add potatoes to the mix. But it tastes very good. I like it, especially because it is made from beans – I like beans as a food.

On Friday evening my mother used to light 3 candles. As far as I know, the number of candles depends on the number of family members. For if you happen to have a child in the meantime, you must light a candle and pray for that child as well. 2 candles are lit – husband, wife –, and then 1 candle for every child in the family.

After the children are grown, move out of the parental home, and start families of their own, the number of candles decreases in the parents’ household. But… to each his own. [Ed. note: It is customary to light two candles, although some families light more, sometimes in accordance with the number of children. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shabbat]

On Friday evening, we would first and foremost go to the synagogue, and sit down at table when we returned, we ate together. We always had fish at the table, it was a tradition, we ate it like meat jelly. If we didn’t have fish, they would prepare some meatballs from poultry, chicken breast, which we also served as Vorspeis. And we had soup – meat soup was a tradition –, meat.

In addition to candles, the woman who lights candles on Friday evening or on the eve of a holiday must also have bread, which is kept covered – coilici. My mother used to bake nicely kneaded coilici. [Ed. note: Coilici is a variant for challah, similar to the word „kajlics“ used by some Hungarian speaking Jews in Romania.

Both words have the origin of the Hungarian word „kalacs“.] The flour was very good, too. For I can’t bake coilici as well as my mother did. I no longer bake it now, but I used to. 2 coilici were placed on the table. If you didn’t have 2, you only placed 1. Or on Passover: you placed the matzah on the table, covered it with a special embroidered cloth, and you blessed the table with the matzah that was on the table.

On Passover, for instance, they brought matzah in boxes, small crates. But you had to clean the house in advance. A thorough cleaning of the house was performed a few days before Passover, including washing and ironing clothes. The doorknobs were scrubbed, everything had to shine.

The special dishes for Passover were prepared, mother used to boil and clean them. We kept them in the attic; all the dishes, cutlery, and everything that was needed for cooking, trays were placed in large straw baskets or small crates with lids and stored in the attic where they remained throughout the year.

Before using them again, they were all retrieved, washed, scrubbed. I don’t remember with what they washed them anymore, but this I remember, that if we didn’t have special ones for Passover, we used some of the trays or dishes that we used during the year, for instance, but they were koshered.

Large stones were heated in the fire and placed in those dishes and trays, hot water was poured over them, steam would come out – they were thus made kosher. This was probably the custom – these are memories that I still have.

The flour and everything that was leavened was taken out of the house. Of course, it wasn’t thrown away. It was stored elsewhere, in a pantry, in a basement or somewhere, so that there was nothing of it left in the house – it is called chametz. When the matzah is brought, the entire house had to be clean, there shouldn’t be any crumb of bread or flour.

Bread crumbs were burned – they were thrown into the fire, to burn on the embers. I believe it was my mother who was in charge of burning the chametz. My father steered clear of household matters. At 10 o’clock on the eve of Passover, everything had to be ready. My poor mother would wake up at who knows what time in the morning in order to take care of all these preparations.

Everything had to be neat and taken care of, as she in turn had seen her parents do. The cleaning, the preparation of the Passover dishes was done in advance. But taking the chametz out of the house was done during that morning.

I think they made matzah in Cluj, if I’m not mistaken. And the Jewish Community in Vatra Dornei brought it, and all the Jews went to the Community and everybody bought as much matzah as they wanted. But it wasn’t sold in packages like nowadays.

It wasn’t packaged back then, you bought it by the pound, wrapped it in a piece of cloth, something, 10 pounds, 4 pounds, 12 pounds, as much as you needed. I believe they sold matzah flour packaged in bags. The matzah was very good, I liked it as a child. I actually enjoyed eating matzah, I didn’t feel the need to eat bread.

The Seder evening was magical for children, it was quite something else. We were seated on the bed, this was a rule, among pillows specially arranged for this… Admittedly, the bed wasn’t large enough for the entire family, some were seated on chairs, as well. Usually, it was the head of the family who performed the ceremony.

In our family, it was performed either by my father or by my uncle, or by both of them, or by either of them assisted by the other. But it is a ceremony performed by men. When the Seder meal ceremony was being performed, there was a plate on the table on which a piece of horseradish was placed, an egg, a piece of meat, parsley leaves and some water mixed with salt.

And on another plate or rather a small bowl there was a mixture made from walnut [charoset], apples and honey. These had to be on the table. And when the service was performed, the glass of wine had to be drunk from, then you had a bite of matzah with those apples mixed with walnut and honey – each of us received [from the one who performed the service] a morcel from it.

The one who performed the ceremony also dipped matzah in the water mixed with salt – I don’t remember eating that. We probably ate eggs, for they were there. A separate glass was placed on the table for the Messiah as well; it was filled and the door was opened in order for him to come in and drink from the glass.

Anyone could open the door. The Messiah comes and tastes from the wine. [Ed. note: In fact, they were waiting for the return of prophet Eliyahu who would come and drink a glass of wine with those who lived there. He will return again on the day of the Last Judgment to herald the coming of the Messiah.] We, the children, kept looking at the glass, but didn’t really notice that it had been drunk from.

And the one performing the ceremony had to take a piece of matzah and hide it. And the children in the house would rush to find this hidden piece of matzah, for, if they found it, the one performing the ceremony had to offer them some money or a gift – we didn’t receive money –, to be given in exchanged for the matzah. Well, it was very beautiful for children.

There are 4 questions a child has to ask. Of course, the child prepared for this in advance. My cousins and me were the ones asking the questions. ‘Maniştane ahailaze... micol halelu...’ It was either like that, or one of us talked and was joined by the other, we asked the questions together, in unison, we didn’t observe any rule. And as we got along very well, we had no problem with this.

Afterwards, the one performing the ceremony used to read in Hebrew from the Haggadah. And then we sat down to eat. We sang ‘Had Gadia’ at the end. [Ed. note: Chad Gadya means „one little goat”.

In Ashkenazi Jewish custom, it is traditionally the penultimate song of the Passover Seder, sung before ‘L'shana Ha'ba'ah Birushalayim’ (‘Next Year in Jerusalem’). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chad_Gadya ]. And this whole ritual could well last until midnight. There was a lot to read. As a small child, I would sometimes fall asleep on the bed. But after I grew up I fought to stay awake. And the same ritual was performed the following evening as well.

People baked on Purim – all sorts of cakes. And women used to compete, each saying that she baked more, better, special cakes. For it was mandatory to send plates with all sorts of delicious cakes to relatives, friends, neighbors. And we sent them cakes and sometimes it so happened that they sent a plate of such goodies in return. Well, it was we, the children, who delivered the cakes. This custom of offering cakes is called salhamunas [shelakhmones].

As children, we used to mask ourselves, we were playing around. But many masked people used to knock on our door. And they came with violins, all sorts of instruments, to play by the door and receive something in return for the performance.

Very many people were looking forward to the Purim holiday so that they could wear masks and come gather some money. They used to play Jewish songs popular in those days. There were Jewish musicians among those who came, but also many Christian ones.

It happened that they would come wearing masks, and you didn’t receive them inside your home. But when they didn’t wear masks, or when they were acquaintances, friends, of course you invited them in, offered them a treat. We went to relatives as well, and to my mother’s friends. It is a pity that these customs are lost with the passage of time.

On Rosh Hashanah we went to the synagogue, the religious service started at 9 o’clock in the morning or even earlier, and it lasted until one o’clock, half past one – our parents often returned from the synagogue at 2 o’clock. It was very long, it was an entire service, which included everything.

When they returned home, the table was laid and we sat down to eat. We usually ate fish, meat soup with noodles, boiled meat. I remember we ate the meat without sour pickles, as it was the New Year. Nor did we eat salads, we ate anything that wasn’t sour. Only food that was sweet. For it was the beginning of a new year, and it should be a sweet and good year. That was the custom in our family.

We built a sukkah on Sukkot, a pavilion covered in green. It was built from rods, so that it could be covered, and it had to have something green. You placed a table and chairs inside, so that you had something to sit on. I don’t believe ornaments were used.

We didn’t build one at home, but the men built a sukkah in the courtyard of the synagogue, and that’s where the religious service was performed. But when I was in America, I saw them in Brooklyn, where many Jews live, very religious ones; those who have houses with courtyards have a pavilion like that in the courtyard, where the religious service is performed, but also where they eat lunch and dinner.

At the end of Sukkot, on the last day, the holiday of Simchat Torah is celebrated. Children rejoiced when this holiday arrived. People went to the synagogue, the one who performed the ceremony, the rabbi, or whoever happened to be, would take out the Torah and give it to each man to walk with it. And they had to walk 7 times [around the bimah].

And if there were enough Torahs, he would give one to every man. If not, a series of men would go, followed by another series. It’s a merry holiday, people sing and dance holding the Torah. But I see that nowadays people walk only 3 times around the altar [Ed. note: Mrs. Ietti Leibovici is referring to the bimah.], and then others take their place.

[Ed. note: The central element of the holiday is represented by the joy of reading the Torah and is expressed by means of a procession consisting in walking around the ‘bimah,’ meaning the podium where the Torah is read or the synagogue’s podium; each person carries the Torah scrolls turn by turn.

This procession, called ‘hakafot’ is repeated 7 times and it synthesizes the joy of reading and carrying the Torah.] And there is also a smaller Torah for the boys over 13, and they can carry it, too. In addition, children had small flags with magen David, and there was an apple impaled at the end of the small flag. And what a joy that small flag with an apple was for children… And afterwards they served sweet must at the synagogue – it is the time when must is produced –, and walnuts, ginger bread, dry cake.

We received Chanukkah gelt on Chanukkah. We bought chocolate, candy. The traditional Chanukkah toy was a spinning top, you turn it a few times and it turns. I had one as well. What won’t children play with…

And life ran its normal, quiet course, I didn’t feel any sort of – shall I call it, anti-Semitism. Well, what do I know, I was little, perhaps I wasn’t even aware of it. But I had many Christian friends. There were many Germans in Vatra Dornei, and we played with the children of those Germans, we’d go to their house, they’d come to ours. There was an atmosphere of understanding, of friendship.

The ordeal started around 1937-1938. However, as a rule, people never discussed political matters in front of us, children, either at school or at home. They tried to somehow protect us from these things, to let us live our childhood. But at a certain point we sensed something was amiss. Jewish men were taken hostage in Vatra Dornei.

The temple in Vatra Dornei was very beautiful – I think it is rather derelict nowadays. And there are tall, iron fences inside the temple courtyard, and the Romanian army kept the men hostage there, in the yard, in collaboration probably with the Germans.

I think Cuza [Alexandru C. Cuza] had been killed, and this law was passed that all Jewish male individuals be taken hostage. [Ed. note: A.C. Cuza dies in 1947, Mrs. Leibovici is probably referring to Corneliu Zelea Codreanu who is assassinated during the night of 29th-30th Novemver 1938 together with other 13 legionaires, on orders from Carol II, by gendarmes transporting him to the prison of Jilava. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corneliu_Zelea_Codreanu ]

It was believed that it was the result of a Jewish plot. They were held captive for a few days, after which they were released. The shops were reopened – there were many Jewish shops in Vatra Dornei –, life went on. But in what manner? They know better, the parents – and took it to their graves –, what they experienced in that period. And we, the children, living beside them, felt that something was amiss. In the meantime, my grandmother from Vatra Dornei died in 1939.

I attended the 1st and 2nd grade at the Romanian school, where we all studied together, without any differences. And then the racial law was issued 3 and they pulled us out of schools. I was in the 3rd grade. A Jewish school was founded, with Jewish teachers – for Christian teachers were not allowed to teach there –, and we resumed going to school.

[Ed. note: In October 1940, Jewish pupils and students were denied access to public education of all degrees. Jewish people were free to organize private primary and secondary schools. The Jewish schools were allowed to function but they weren’t allowed to be advertised. The graduation diplomas were not recognized by the state and had no practical validity regarding the graduate’s admission into a profession.]

I didn’t attend the cheder, but we also learned Hebrew at the Jewish school. I attended this Jewish school during 3rd and 4th grade.

  • During the war

And this was during the period of the autumn holidays, the first few days of the holidays were over, then the Sukkot holiday arrived – which is at the end of the holidays. The holidays last around 4 weeks, and this was at the end. And we prepared food, as we usually did.

My father went to the synagogue in the morning; my mother attended as well, together with all the grown-ups, and usually they were supposed to return home at one o’clock. And around half past ten, eleven in the morning, our parents returned from the synagogue together with our aunts and uncle.

‘They are deporting us, and we have to be at the train station at three o’clock.’ During that very same day. So the racial law was passed in September 1940, and this was happening around October 1941. Of course, everyone packed in their suitcases whatever they could, they used blankets in which they wrapped underwear, bedclothes, clothing, the food that had been prepared for the holiday, in pots, bags, whatever they had.

As for our valuables, we took some of them with us – they came in very handy later on –, and we left the rest with some neighbors in a small chest. And it wasn’t three o’clock yet, it was half past one, two o’clock, and they came with the carts.

There were pre-military units back then – youth that had probably been recruited –, and they came with the bayonets: ‘Get out of the house, get out, get out!’ There was a German or two among them. And we loaded that cart with everything we could, and we set off towards the train station.

But prior to this, all the Jews from small villages and towns had been evacuated to Vatra Dornei. Just as it happened in Botosani as well, in the case of Sulita, Stefanesti, Saveni – the inhabitants of which came to Botosani.

The inhabitants of Carlibaba, Dorna Candrenilor, Rosu… there were several villages, small towns, all came to Vatra Dornei. I believe this was at the end of 1940. For there were many teachers from these towns and villages who came and taught at the Jewish school. So there were many Jews in Vatra Dornei.

The train in the Vatra Dornei train station had 8-10-12 cars – I won’t tell you how many, for I don’t know. And they started loading us in the train cars. They were stock cars, we boarded the train, we were 150-200 in one car, it was very crowded. There were old men, children, and some sat on their luggage, others were standing up.

When they finished boarding everyone on the platform, they closed the cars, drew the bolts, and the train started moving. [Ed. note: On 9th October 1941 the operations for the deportation of Jews to Transnistria started in all localities in South Bukovina (Suceava, Campulung Moldovenesc, Radauti, Vatra Dornei).]

A single Jewish pharmacist remained in Vatra Dornei, as there were no Christian pharmacists there and the decree that was issued stated that the pharmacist should remain there until they bring a Christian one, and then he will be deported, too. And that’s what actually happened. He joined us as well, I don’t know, a few weeks later.

The train started moving and stopped in Campulung [Campulung Moldovenesc]. There are approximately 50 km between Vatra Dornei and Campulung. [Campulung Moldovenesc is located 49 km north-east of Vatra Dornei]. But Campulung was also a city with many Jewish inhabitants.

And they took the Jews from Campulung, Gura Humorului, Radauti. I don’t know whether they managed to send all of them at once on the same train, but anyway, other trains came, and they sent the remaining Jews. And the trip was a long one. People relieved themselves there, as the cars were bolted and the train was moving at a snail’s pace.

After having eaten whatever food they brought along, people still had the pots where the food had been stored, and everybody used them to… There was tragedy everywhere. And the memory I have of this episode is terrible, for people started praying.

Especially since it was a holiday, too. And you have to wash before praying, you have to be clean. And they recited the prayers on the train despite everything, and especially despite people relieving themselves there. So the train kept moving along. We passed through Cernauti [Chernivtsi].

There was a ghetto in Chernivtsi not far from the railroad, you could see it from the train – for people finally managed to open a little the door of the stock car – just enough to see outside, and let in a bit of air. And you could see poor people standing there and looking, there was a fence around the ghetto so they couldn’t get out of there, but they were waving at us – for they knew by then that we were being evacuated and taken to Transnistria.

We arrived in Bessarabia. And all of us got off the train, with luggage and everything, and headed towards where they took us. There were some devastated houses in a town, Iedenit [today Yedintsy, in the Republic of Moldova], they had no doors, no windows, and all who managed to fit in those houses lived there. And it was October by then, close to November.

It is terribly cold in those parts, hard winters, with snow, with frost. But there were inscriptions in Romanian in these devastated houses: ‘Here, in this house, lived this and that person with his children, grandchildren, …’. It was still Jews who lived there before us, and they were deported to Siberia – there was no trace left of them. We stayed there for a day or two.

It was raining when we set out from there, and it was muddy, the streets weren’t paved – countryside roads –, we were swimming in mud. We rented some carts from the local peasants to carry the luggage. And everybody paid using whatever they had: if they still had some money left or some jewelry, something. And they bartered.

They gave you something in exchange, if you needed a loaf of bread in exchange for… [an object] And we pressed forward. Old people of 80, older than 80, fell to the ground and never rose again. And you weren’t allowed to help them to their feet. There were soldiers, and they herded us like cattle.

We arrived in another village where we stayed over night. Well, it lasted a while until we reached the river Dniester. When we reached the river Dniester, they transported us by ferry to Moghilev, on the other side of the Dniester. Across the border, in Ukraine.

We arrived in Moghilev 4. This whole adventure lasted 2-3 weeks. But this was the beginning, it continued there afterwards. In Moghilev, those who were lucky remained in Moghilev, and their situation was bad, but not desperate. But those who didn’t remain there were taken to concentration camps.

And it was the same ordeal all over again, we had to get there on foot, it was tens of kilometers. And we arrived at a village called Kopaygorod [today the region of Vinnytsya, Ukraine]. It was a stable for cattle – there were no cattle, there was nothing there – of huge dimensions, very large, what do I know, as large as a block of flats with 2-3 entrances.

A bed was built there out of planks, along the entire length of that room. Straw was placed on top of it, and that was called a ‘prici.’ We slept on this ‘prici’ – women, children, men. We covered ourselves with blankets, eiderdowns, great coats. For it was terrible. It was the end of 1941, the beginning of 1942 by now. And from there we went to the fields.

For many peasants had left, and there were unearthed potatoes and sugar beet on the field. We, the children, went and gathered them, and we gave them to our parents. And they boiled them in a large bucket filled with water, over a fire kindled with a few wood branches torn from trees, corn stalks. And they were frozen, but they tasted so good… Hunger will make you eat anything.

But you weren’t allowed to stray to far, and if you did, you were taking a chance. There were people who did. They even came back, they weren’t caught. My father scouted the area, too. At a certain point, there was an epidemic of exanthematic typhus because of the filth.

And father used to go to the village with objects – earrings, for instance, a ring, wedding rings –, and he gave them to peasants in exchange for spirit, alcohol, brandy, which he used for massages. This is what saved me. Well now, did this save me? Or perhaps my time hadn’t come yet. This may be true as well. And people died in great numbers. My uncle, Iosef Laufer, died there, one of my cousins, Pepi Laufer, died there. Hunger and disease – the typhus, which cut people down with no distinction.

We ran away from there one night: my father and my mother, my aunts, and another cousin of ours. They said: ‘We’re going to take a chance, we’ll run away, maybe we’ll get somewhere from where we could reach Moghilev.’ Moghilev was the target.

The city was bigger, it had a hospital, and there were Jews working at that hospital. But we didn’t manage to get too far, they caught us and they took us to another concentration camp, in Shargorod [Shargorod, today in the Vinnytsya region, Ukraine] 5. A lot of people, the same situation, still the same bed made from wood and planks, with straw on top of it.

There was less and less luggage. It was 1942 by then, it was the winter of 1942. That’s where my aunt died, my mother’s sister-in-law. And I was left only with my parents and my mother’s 2 sisters, Ana and Sabina Laufer, and cousin Ietti Laufer. Perhaps we could save ourselves.

We decided to run away. There were some guards and we gave them something, and they let us run away. We ran away, but, unfortunately, to our misfortune, they caught us this time as well, and they took us to the concentration camp in Piciora [Pechora] 6.

There was a large house in Pechora, I believe it was a castle once, for there were many-many rooms and they were too nice – that’s where we lived. The camp in Pechora was ‘The Death Camp’ – that’s what they called it. Guarded, fenced. There was a common burial ground there.

And if someone died – tossed into the common burial ground. We had nothing left to eat at a certain point. Destroyed, weakened, my mother’s sisters – one was 23, one was 21, they were very young – felt that the end had come. They embraced each other, and that’s how they died, embracing each other. People drank urine for lack of water. They ate whatever they could get their hands on.

We were 9 when we left home. And little by little the family lessened. ‘What shall we do, wait to die here?’ ‘We’ll run away.’ And we set out again one night. And we arrived in a grove, and a couple of soldiers came in that grove, they caught my mother, they beat her until she couldn’t get up.

They stripped her of her coat, pulled the teeth out of her mouth – she had gold teeth. Father was shouting at my cousin and me: ‘Run! Run! Run!’ Father was shouting at us to run and hide in the woods. Well, we didn’t run to the end of the woods, there was a clearing at the skirt of the woods, we ran there, remained crouched, and then father came holding my mother in his arms – they had beaten her to death. It was in 1943.

We walked across the grove, and kept moving forward. There still existed kolkhoz 7 farms. We entered a kolkhoz during the night, we used the animals to keep us warm – for there were animals there. And they fed animals with sunflower bread. And we said: ‘Let’s eat some of it ourselves!’

We ate, and it seemed to taste so good… No cake ever tasted as good as that one. And we came out of there at a certain point, and a cart with 2 people passed by. We had already started learning Ukrainian, Russian, a little bit. They were very nice people, and they took us in the cart. My hand was already frostbitten because of the cold, and it was infected. ‘To Moghilev. Moghilev, let’s go there.’

I was hospitalized when we arrived in Moghilev, the doctor there was from Vatra Dornei, he admitted me into the hospital for treatment, for that infection. My cousin was admitted into an orphanage, also located in Moghilev. And father stayed in Moghilev, so that he could visit me and my cousin. Meanwhile, they caught my father in Moghilev and took him to a labor camp. And, starting from that day, I had no news of my father anymore.

It was the end of 1943 by then. I stayed in the hospital for approximately 2 months, and in January 1944 I left the hospital and was transferred to the orphanage. When I arrived at the orphanage I found out that my cousin Ietti Laufer had died in the meantime. And I was all by myself there.

I was 10 and a half when they deported us from Vatra Dornei. By January 1944 I was already 13. The Federation in Bucharest sent the orphanage and the hospital some food and clothing, and we seemed to fare a little better. There were some teachers who came to the orphanage to teach lessons every now and then, give us some activities, some handiwork.

It was more humane. And lists were drawn up, for a delegation from Romania representing the Federation of Jewish Communities was coming there to take the children aged 1-15. A list was drawn up with the children who were eligible, I enlisted as well. And the question was:

‘Where should I ask to be sent?’ Someone asked to go to Bacau, someone else to Roman, others to Falticeni, Bucharest, Timisoara. ‘Should I go to Vatra Dornei?’ Nobody had returned home at that time. We, the children, were the first to return home. ‘What will I do there, at only 13 years of age, all by myself?’

So I asked to be sent to Botosani, and I enlisted to be sent to Botosani. I didn’t know their address [of my grandparents and uncles from Botosani], only their names. The delegation came indeed, they brought clothes for the children, they dressed us and boarded the children on a special transport train. This was happening in March 1944. So I stayed in the orphanage until March 1944.

There were very many children there. It was interesting that I had no document to prove that I had been deported to Transnistria. I had no proof from anywhere. And I needed it at a certain point in order to [request and] obtain support from the Claims Conference. And I addressed myself to the Institute for the Study of Jewish History in Bucharest.

They have all the information. They sent me the list issued by the city hall of Moghilev with all the children that came on that train – the full list came from Moghilev together with the children. I am at number 15 on that list. I forget how many children there were in total, but I believe there were approximately 50.

That’s how I arrived in Botosani. I arrived at the Botosani train station. Many, many, many people. Some came out of curiosity, knowing that children were coming, others came to see if any of the children from their families had returned. I inquired about the Davidsohns. I saw a lady and a gentleman: ‘The Davidsohns.’

‘No, we don’t know them.’ The city was big, approximately 25,000 Jews lived there. None of those that I asked could help me. Evening was drawing near, and I could see that I was making no headway. Then a young man came and told me: ‘Where are you from?’ I told him. ‘Did you just come with…’

‘Yes.’ He asked me how old I was. He said: ‘Look, would you like to go with me? There is a family who have a daughter your age, and they would be happy to take you to live with them.’ It was a family with a very good financial situation. Seeing that I had no family, no anything, I said: ‘Alright. I will go.’ And I went.

This young man was a neighbor of that family, and he was the son of a rabbi who also lived there. And he took me to that family, the Fichmans. I spoke Romanian very poorly, for we spoke German at home. Ever since I was born I had been speaking German. Even at kindergarten, and then at school. And you had to tell the story to everyone. People didn’t know the exact details. They knew about Transnistria, they knew about the Gulag 8, but they didn’t know everything. 

And time was passing by. One day, the father of this Mrs. Fichman comes. And he starts to talk with me. He says: ‘Where are you from?’ ‘From Vatra Dornei. But I have family living in Botosani.’ And when I tell him about my family, about their name, he says: ‘Isn’t David your father?’ My father’s name was David. David Davidsohn.

I say: ‘Yes, it is.’ ‘Oh,’ he says, ‘but I know your family. I know your grandparents, I know your uncles and aunts. I know them.’ And he went and broke the news to my grandparents. My grandparents came, my father’s sisters and brothers came. Well, we were rejoicing. ‘What do you know about father?’ ‘I don’t know anything.

To think what has become of us…’ Mrs. and Mr. Fichman insisted very much: ‘We will see to it that she is reunited with her father when he returns. And let her live with us until then.’ On the other hand, my relatives argued: ‘We share the same blood, and we want her to live with us.’ And of course I went to live with my grandparents, and I stayed with them.

During the war, the grandparents from my father’s side remained in Botosani. And those living in Botosani weren’t deported, they remained there. I couldn’t tell what happened here during 1940-1944. [Ed. note: Restrictions and bans were enacted in Botosani as in other Romanian towns.

According to the law, Forced Labor started in December 1940, but before 1940, the Jews from Botosani aged 15 to 70 had to perform the labor in the town and its surroundings. They worked on building roads, railways and the dams of Iasi, Falciu and Braila districts.

During 1940-1943, the Jewish high school students were forced to sweep the snow and ice from the streets, under the supervision of their teachers. In 1942, 148 Jews were deported to Transnistria as Communist suspects. http://www.jewishgen.org/yizkor/pinkas_romania/rom1_00029.html ] I arrived there in March 1944, and the conditions had already improved. My grandfather worked during that period, still as a butcher.

  • After the war

6-8 more months later I received a postcard from my father saying that he was in Iasi, that he has returned. When the Russian army came here, he arrived at a later time with other people who had been taken to perform forced labor. And he arrived in Botosani. And that’s when we saw each other again. It was already 1945.

After my father came, I actually went to Vatra Dornei with him. The store had been emptied, and it served a completely different purpose, it functioned as a Loto-Prono Sport terminal [National Lottery terminal]. But after a year or two, when we returned to Dorna, the entire row of stores was demolished – there were some 3-4 stores –, and a cinema is built on that place, on that area.

I kept living with my grandparents. They were gorgeous. I loved them very much, for they looked after me a great deal. It was after the war, and it was the period of the famine – there was a severe drought in 1947, and famine –, and they somehow managed to get by in order for me to have my morsel of bread.

They could do without, as long as they could provide for me. I lived with them for approximately 4 years [Ed. note: In fact, 3 years, from 1944 until 1947], after which, when my father remarried, I lived with him, also for 4-5 years. But my father’s place wasn’t far from where my grandparents lived, and I was always over at their place.

They were very kind people. In fact, all their children were like that, my father included. It was also from my grandparents that I learned Yiddish, after returning from the deportation. I kept talking now Romanian, now German, but my grandparents were talking in Yiddish, and I started learning it in time, and I even started speaking it myself. Even now I speak Yiddish rather well.

My father remarried in 1947. And a daughter was born out of his second marriage, Jenica. I was glad when that happened. And we got along very well. But people started leaving, emigrating 1 to Israel. And I wasn’t a minor anymore, I was 18, and I had my own passport. My father, his wife and his little daughter had one single passport.

So they were listed on my father’s passport. At a certain point they received the approval for departing. And so did my grandmother. My grandfather was no longer alive. I received a negative, a reply stating that my request for departing was denied. ‘What shell we do, then?’ ‘I will apply again.’ I applied again. In the meantime, they had a passport, they had to leave. My father left together with my sister and her mother; my grandmother left as well.

I went to live with one of my father’s brothers, Buium Davidsohn, who hadn’t applied for emigration permission. He was living in Botosani with his wife and had a daughter who was 3 years older than me. And we got along very well. And I didn’t apply for an emigration permission afterwards, I got married in the meantime. I lived at my uncle’s until I got married.

After returning from the deportation my father developed a brain tumor. He had been beaten, hit, and, approximately 2 years after he got married again, around 1949, he started having terrible headaches. He went to Bucharest, underwent surgery – he had a brain neoplasm. He recovered well after the operation.

He left to Israel. But these operations are effective only for a year, a year and a half, after which the tumor grows back. And he passed away in Israel. They emigrated to Haifa in 1951. And life over there was hard in the beginning. They had nothing when they arrived there.

My father received a job, he worked until he saw that he started having a relapse of the disease. And he died in Israel a year later, one year and a half after emigrating there, in 1952-1953. He died in Petah Tiqwa, for that’s where he was hospitalized, and he is buried there.

And the little girl grew up, she went to school there, she got married. Her husband’s name is Miha Haftca. He was born in Israel, but his parents had come to Israel from Poland around 1932, and they had 3 children there, if I remember correctly. Her name is now Iaffa Haftca.

When she was living in Romania, her name was Jenica, Jeni, but she changed her name to Iafa when she arrived in Israel. But I still call her Jeni, as I used to do. We lived under the same roof until she was 3. Our relationship is very good, we are very close. She calls me even twice a week and, if she feels like it, 3 times a week. And I travel there very often to visit her. She too came to visit me on 2 occasions, but this was many years ago.

She is living in a kibbutz, Kibbutz Lahavot HaBashan. It is far away, in the north of the country. Life is nice on a kibbutz. And she is still working. She is 58, she is 17 years younger than me. Usually, people living on a kibbutz work until they are too old to do so.

She too could retire at 60 years of age, but nobody wants to be left out. Everybody keeps working. The kibbutz has ponds where they grow fish in order to sell it. They also grow fowls in order to have meat and eggs for the kibbutz’ internal consumption, and cattle as well; they run a factory for fire extinguishers. And then there are kibbutzim that have large orchards where they grow grapevine, orange, lemon, and banana trees.

There was a time when living on a kibbutz was heaven on earth. There was the mess hall, where people ate, in the morning, at lunch, and in the evening. There were 10-15 dishes to choose from, you could choose what you wanted to eat. It was very-very good.

If the gas cylinder became empty, you made a phone call within the kibbutz, the person in charge of this would come and replace it. Everything was free of charge. And their salary was very small. For they received very little money, given that everything was free.

Nowadays, kibbutzim don’t run so well. Now they foresee that people will pay for everything. And every member of a kibbutz should receive a salary, and he should live off that salary like everywhere else. So things have changed very much. 

Jenica has 3 children. She has 2 married sons who have children of their own, and a little daughter. The elder son’s name is Gay, and his wife’s name is Talia. They have 3 children: a little daughter and 2 sons. Gay is working for a TV-cable company.

The elder son is living in Ra’ananna – Ra’ananna is a city located near Herzliyya. The second-born, Roy, is living in Tel Aviv and is working as a programmer. Roy has a little daughter, and another child is due to be born – his wife is expecting a child. The little daughter, Nufar, is living and studying in Tel Aviv.

She will probably get married soon, for she is attending her final year at the university. She studied for 2 faculties at once. She graduated the Faculty of Biology last year, and this year she will be graduating the Music Academy. But let us hope that all will be well, and she will graduate without any problems. And life goes on.

I graduated the first 2 years of primary school at the Romanian school in Vatra Dornei, and 2 years – 3rd and 4th – at the Jewish school in Vatra Dornei; then, when I returned from Transnistria, for another 7 years, I attended high school under the evening studies system – there were 11 grades in those days [after World War II]. I resumed my studies around 1946. I studied both under the optional attendance and under the evening studies system, as I started working. I started working in May 1949.

My first job was for the Knitwear Factory as a quality controller. I got married in 1954, and I left my job at that time, I stayed at home for approximately 5 years. I secured another job after 5 years, in the beginning I worked at the policlinic’s registry office for 26 years, then all the Hospitals and Policlinics merged, and everything was placed under the leadership of the Sanitary Department, and I was transferred as a cashier working for the Financial Office of the Sanitary Department. I worked there until I retired in 1986.

My husband’s name was Iosef Leibovici. He was born in Botosani in 1924. He was a dental technician. We met at a youth party. People organized balls, reunions. We met through a third party and we liked each other. The balls were very nice, with Wienese waltzes – the waltzes of Johann Strauss –, tangos, with ‘damen waltz’ – meaning a waltz like all others, but it was the women who invited the men to dance.

There was a cinema, which was called Lux [Luxury], where balls were organized, and also at the Casa Armatei [House of the Army] – there were several ballrooms there. I don’t remember separate parties to be organized for the Jewish youth – these balls were for all who wanted to attend. On Purim it was a different matter.

A ball was organized on Purim. There was a hall, Sala Meseriasi [the Handicraftsmen’s Hall], which belonged to the community and where weddings and parties were organized. I think many handicraftsmen used to meet at this club, in the Handicraftsmen’s Hall.

I didn’t wear long dresses. The fashion was to wear dresses that weren’t too short, above the knee, and with sleeves or sleeveless, low-cut, yet not too low. It was very beautiful. But it was very hard to manage to buy something. It was just after [the return from] the deportation, just after the war, and you didn’t even have something to wear.

Fabrics were being sold on a system based on points. For everyone had a card with a number of points. In the 1950’s, from what I remember – for so many years have passed since then –, the City Hall issued cards with a certain number of points to everyone who had an ID card; everyone received the same number of points, and you could use them to buy anything you wanted, but you would eventually run out of points.

I don’t remember exactly, you had 100 points, and if you bought an overcoat, that would be worth let’s say 80 points, you’d have 20 points still left, enough to buy a pair of socks. But there were huge queues, you had to stand in line from daybreak, when you found out they were supplying the stores. And if you managed to buy a piece of fabric for a dress, oh dear, it was quite something [a big deal]…

There were calicos for dresses, pajama fabrics, and you could buy a few fabrics or a pair of sandals, a pair of shoes. That’s how it was in those days. I believe even food was being sold based on a points system back then. But I’m sure it was like this in the case of clothing.

Our wedding took place in 1954 and, since it was during communism, and the system was very strict about religions, we had the religious ceremony performed – we had the civil ceremony performed in advance – among family members, at uncle Buium and my aunt’s place.

That’s where the religious ceremony was performed. That’s how it happened to be, because there had to be not too many people present. There were a few relatives of my husband’s, there probably weren’t more than 12 persons at the ceremony. I didn’t wear a bridal gown, I had a light-colored dress instead, cream-colored, rather.

I didn’t have a veil, but you must wear something to cover your head when you are under the chuppah. And my husband was wearing a suit. And they performed the religious ceremony, with a chuppah, a rabbi, everything was in Hebrew. The groom, the bride, the sponsors, the parents, if present, walk around the chuppah.

And that’s when a drinking glass is broken – it is the groom who has to break the glass, to show his strength. He tosses it, and then kicks it with his foot. Afterwards, the kettubah is written; it is written in Hebrew on parchment.

And we had already rented a place where we lived, and we prepared a feast there, and we went home after the religious ceremony, we had guests, and it was very nice, very special. We had many guests, I believe we were 70 in total. We had 2 large rooms, a hallway, and the neighbors across the hall, some extraordinary people, offered us 2 of their rooms.

The music played in the hallway. There was an accordion player, a jazz player – a sort of drum –, a guitar player. They played music from the 1950’s. The waltz, the tango, the foxtrot, these were fashionable in those days… and other dances as well, the name of which I have to think hard in order to remember.

And we laid tables in the rooms our neighbor gave us to use, in a corner, in yet another corner, and we had a table filled with all sorts of meat specialties, sausages, steaks, cookies, cakes, wines, with… Everyone would enter, help themselves to some food. And the music played in the hallway, people danced in this other room, and it was beautiful. It was, how should I say, more special.

My husband has a brother, Jean Leibovici, who is living in Bucharest. He is one and half, two years younger than my husband. He worked as a clerk for the Ministry of Food Industry. He is married and has a son.

I knew my husband’s father, my father-in-law, we even lived together. His name was Moritz Leibovici, he was from Botosani, he was married around 1897. [Before World War II,] he was an agent for the company Singer, the one selling sewing machines. We lived separately during the years after we got married – from 1954 until 1972.

My father-in-law had his own house, but systematization 9 came, and his house was to be demolished. It was located on Calea Nationala St., on the way to the train station, close to the tramline. And we lived in a rented house not far from there, on a street a bit to a side, it was called Casin St.

And in 1971, when my father-in-law’s house was demolished, we decided to move in a somewhat larger house, where he could have his own room, where we could be together. And we moved in a house located on Calea Nationala as well, but closer to the downtown area, where we had 4 rooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, a verandah, a pantry – it was still rented. I lived there until 1981, until my father-in-law’s death. As I was alone, I moved here in 1981 [in an apartment in a block of flats].

My father-in-law had a sister, her name was Fany Schwartz. She lived in Botosani, too; also, she was our wedding sponsor as well. [Editor’s note: Mrs. Leibovici is referring to her as her aunt.] My aunt’s daughter, whose name is Tili Schwartz – which is to say her name was Schwartz before she got married, her married name is Anavi – went to study in Bucharest, was appointed to work in Onesti, and they emigrated to Israel afterwards. She got married in Israel.

I had a daughter, Claudia, who was born in 1968, and died in a car accident together with my husband in 1978.

I was an UCY member when I was in school [member of the Union of Communist Youth]. That’s how it was in those days, you had to be a member. But I had no position in the organization, no activity, I only attended a meeting every now and then. And then I turned 18 – I believe 18 years of age was the limit –, and that was the end of it.

My husband was a member of the Communist Party – you had to be in those days. For he didn’t choose to be a member of the party, he was forced by the circumstances. They made him a member of the Communist Party, and could you refuse and tell them: ‘I don’t want to be a party member.’? They didn’t make me a party member, and he used to say: ‘Suffice it that I am a member, let it be.’

After we got married, we went on trips every year. We’ve been to various places, both in the mountains, and at the seaside.

I visited America on 2 occasions. I’ve been there in 1982 and in 1984. And you won’t believe this, I had no problem whatsoever. I visited New York in 1982 and from there I also went to Canada; I traveled to Israel in 1983, and in 1984 I went to New York once more, also for a period of 2 months, and I stayed in Florida for a month, to visit some of my mother’s cousins, too.

I liked America, but I put myself in the shoes of some of those who live there. I’m not talking about those who have roots there and… [have a good life.] For I strolled down some streets, like Diamond Street, with some stores… It intrigued me back then, for we don’t see something like that over here. But I went on a trip in the mountains.

And when I returned from the trip, there was a rally of gay people. For me, this was something unheard of, not to mention that it was never seen here, in Romania. But they were so at ease, and they walked in the street… Then, they told me on a certain occasion: ‘This is a place which is best to avoid, there are many drug addicts here.’ ‘What?’ You wouldn’t have heard something like that in our country.

Or we happened to be in the vicinity of Harlem, the neighborhood of African-Americans. And they told me once again: ‘If you want to, we could go, for you to see.’ ‘No, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to put you in such a situation.’ For people avoid going there. I wasn’t used to such things over here, of course I didn’t like this.

I also visited a Jewish neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York, where you see men wearing payes and kaftans. The people living there go to the synagogue on Saturday morning or on holidays, but you aren’t allowed to carry anything in your hand on a holiday or on Saturday. You have to have a prayer book stored in advance at the synagogue, all these things.

If you have a baby you aren’t allowed to push the baby carriage, it is too great an effort to make. Or you aren’t allowed to knock on a door. But you’re sooner allowed to knock on a door than to ring a doorbell. For the doorbell is electric, and you aren’t allowed to use things powered by electricity on holidays. For instance, the lights are programmed to switch on – let’s say – on Friday evening at 4 o’clock, and to switch off at 10, 11, 12 o’clock.

So that they don’t have to touch a switch. My relatives were people who observed religious traditions, but not in an exaggerated manner, not like this, by going to such extremes. And so were my parents in our home.

I first visited Israel in 1972. For it was forbidden to do so before that time, you couldn’t go to Israel. Approximately in the 1970’s they started to allow people to visit Israel 10. But, of course, the entire family couldn’t leave, you had to leave a warranty here. On that occasion it was I who left, while my husband remained in Botosani. Afterwards, I only went there in 1982. I was there in 1984, 1987, 1989, then in 2000, 2003, and also last year, in 2005.

Whenever I go and see once more the places I had already seen, Israel seems more beautiful to me, and entirely different. It is a young country, it was formed in 1948 – it isn’t even 60 years old. And when you see from what – sand and rocks – such a beauty was erected.

I went to visit the holy places, and Mount Tabor as well, for I have a cousin there who teaches geography and is also a guide. He took a few days off, and: ‘Come, I will take you to Nazareth, to see Mount Tabor.’ But I’ve been there a few times. And it is as if each time I see something else.

For you can’t memorize on your first visit absolutely everything you see. I visited Via Dolorosa, on several occasions as well, the Path of Jesus Christ the Lord towards Golgotha, I visited the holy places, which, if you are there, urge you to go and see.

Of course I keep in touch with the Jewish Community in Botosani. They invite us to attend whenever there are conferences, whenever delegations from Bucharest or elsewhere come to Botosani, and of course I always honor the invitations, I attend these events.

They also organize festive meals on certain days, such as the first evening on Passover and Chanukkah; they invite us, we meet there, and it is very nice. It isn’t customary for women to attend the religious service on Saturday, these are performed among men, women attend only on major holidays: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, other such major holidays, which I sometimes attend myself.

I observe tradition as much as I can. After getting married, I had separate dishes for meat and milk, for my father-in-law lived with us. And he had dishes from his household, and I kept [kosher] willy-nilly. But I also respected my father-in-law, I did this gladly, it wasn’t a problem.

It is harder and harder to observe tradition, we keep eliminating some thing or other from all that we once observed. Formerly, the meat was kosher. Nowadays this tradition of kosher meat is lost, for they don’t bring kosher meat to Botosani anymore.

I always see to it that the house is cleaned and the food prepared before the holidays, so that I don’t have to work on holidays; I make sure to have cooked and baked and done everything there is to do in advance. I don’t work on Saturday, I can do that during the rest of the week.

I don’t light candles on Friday evening, nor on Chanukkah. When I had a family [a husband and a daughter], I used to observe all the customs, I used to light candles as well – both on Chanukkah and on Friday evening. Now I have given up on this.

How do I spend one day of my life? All days are not alike. First of all, the household, small as it is, keeps demanding. You must do something around the house every day. Some thing or other is bound to break, and I have to call someone to fix it.

Then I go to the market, I go shopping, cook, go out for a stroll, get some fresh air, I even go to the Public Garden and sit on a bench, I watch television, watch certain programs in order to keep myself up-to-date, I read the newspapers. I only have subscription to the Jewish Reality magazine.

[Ed. note: A magazine of the Jewish minority in Romania, which was issued between 1956 and 1995 under the name of ‘The Magazine of the Mosaic Cult,’ and under the name of ‘The Jewish Reality’ after 1995. It includes articles related to the social and cultural life of the community and it comprises a page in English and one in Ivrit.]

I buy the rest. Such as the magazine Magazinul, I never miss an issue. This is a national weekly magazine, I like it very much, it is a cultural, scientific paper which contains pleasant things. I also read the Jurnalul National newspaper [the National Journal], and the local newspapers from Botosani: Jurnalul de dimineata [the Morning Journal], Jurnalul de Botosani [the Botosani Journal, http://beta.jurnalulbtd.ro/].

  • Glossary

1 Mass emigration from Romania after World War II: After World War II the number of Jewish people emigrating from Romania to Israel was much higher than in earlier periods.

This was urged not only by the establishment in 1948 of Israel, and thus by the embodiment of an own state, but also by the general disillusionment caused by the attitude of the receiving country and nation during World War II.

Between 1919 and 1948 a number of 41,000 Jews from Romania left for Israel, while between May 1948 (the establishment of Israel) and 1995 this number increased to 272,300.

The emigration flow was significantly influenced after 1948 by the current attitude of the communist regime towards the aliyah issue, and by its diplomatic relations with Israel.

The main emigration flows were between 1948-1951 (116,500 persons), 1958-1966 (106,200 persons) and 1969-1974 (17,800 persons).

2 Transnistria: Area situated between the Bug and Dniester rivers and the Black Sea. The term is derived from the Romanian name for the Dniester (Nistru) and was coined after the occupation of the area by German and Romanian troops in World War II.

After its occupation Transnistria became a place for deported Romanian Jews. Systematic deportations began in September 1941. In the course of the next two months, all surviving Jews of Bessarabia and Bukovina and a small part of the Jewish population of Old Romania were dispatched across the Dniester.

This first wave of deportations reached almost 120,000 by mid-November 1941 when it was halted by Ion Antonescu, the Romanian dictator, upon intervention of the Council of Romanian Jewish Communities. Deportations resumed at the beginning of the summer of 1942, affecting close to 5,000 Jews.

A third series of deportations from Old Romania took place in July 1942, affecting Jews who had evaded forced labor decrees, as well as their families, communist sympathizers and Bessarabian Jews who had been in Old Romania and Transylvania during the Soviet occupation.

The most feared Transnistrian camps were Vapniarka, Ribnita, Berezovka, Tulcin and Iampol. Most of the Jews deported to camps in Transnistria died between 1941-1943 because of horrible living conditions, diseases and lack of food.

3 Anti-Jewish laws in Romania: The first anti-Jewish laws were introduced in 1938 by the Goga-Cuza government. Further anti-Jewish laws followed in 1940 and 1941, and the situation was getting gradually worse between 1941-1944 under the Antonescu regime.

According to these laws all Jews aged 18-40 living in villages were to be evacuated and concentrated in the capital town of each county. Jews from the region between the Siret and Prut Rivers were transported by wagons to the camps of Targu Jiu, Slobozia, Craiova etc. where they lived and died in misery.

More than 40,000 Jews were moved. All rural Jewish property, as well as houses owned by Jews in the city, were confiscated by the state, as part of the ‘Romanisation campaign’.

Marriages between Jews and Romanians were forbidden from August 1940, Jews were not allowed to have Romanian names, own rural properties, be public employees, lawyers, editors or janitors in public institutions, have a career in the army, own liquor stores, etc.

Jewish employees of commercial and industrial enterprises were fired, Jewish doctors could no longer practice and Jews were not allowed to own chemist shops. Jewish students were forbidden to study in Romanian schools.

4 Mohilev-Podolsk: A town in Ukraine (Mohyliv-Podilsky), located on the Dniester river. It is one of the major crossing points from Bessarabia (today the Moldovan Republic) to the Ukraine. After Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union in June 1941, the allied German and Romanian armies occupied Bessarabia and Bukovina, previously Soviet territories.

In August 1941 the Romanians began to send Jewish deportees over the Dniester river to Transnistria, which was then under German occupation. More than 50,000 Jews marched through the town, approximately 15,000 were able to stay there. The others were deported to camps established in many towns of Transnistria.

5 Shargorod: A town in Ukraine, also known as Sharigrad. During World War II Jews from Romania were deported to various towns in Transnistria, which was then under German occupation. Large-scale deportations began in August 1941, after Romania and Germany occupied the previously Soviet territories of Bessarabia (today the Moldovan Republic) and Bukovina.

Jews from the newly occupied Romanian lands (Bessarabia and Bukovina), as well as from Romania were sent over the Dniester river to Transnistria. The severe living conditions, the harsh winter and a typhus epidemic contributed to the large number of deaths in the camps established in many towns of Transnistria.

6 Pechora camp: On 11th November 1941 the civil governor of Transnistria issued the deportation of Jews. A camp for Jewish residents of Tulchin (3,005 in total) was established in the village of Pechora, Vinnitsya region in December 1941.

This is known as the ‘Dead Loop’. In total about 9,000 people from various towns in Vinnitsya region were kept in the camp. They were accommodated in the former 2-storied recreation center building. There were up to 50 tenants in one room. No provisions were made for the most basic necessities of the inmates. Inmates hardly got any food and the building had no heating.

About 2,500 Jews were taken away by Germans for forced labor. None of them returned; they all died from forced labor beyond their strength, lack of food, hunger and diseases. In March 1944 Soviet troops liberated the camp. There were 1,550 survivors left in the camp.

7 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.

8 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.

9 Systematic demolitions: The passing of the Law for the Systematization of Towns and Villages in 1974 incited a large-scale demolition of Romanian towns and villages. The great earthquake of 4th March 1977 damaged many buildings and was seen as a justification for the demolition of many monuments.

By the end of 1989, the time of the fall of the Ceausescu regime, at least 29 towns had been completely restructured, 37 were in the process of being restructured, and the rural systematization had claimed its first toll: some demolished villages north of Bucharest.

Between 1977 and 1989, Bucharest was at the mercy of the dictator, whose mere gestures were interpreted as direct orders and could lead to the immediate disappearance of certain houses or certain areas. Old houses and quarters, the so-called imperialist-capitalist architecture, had to vanish in order to make room for the great urban achievements of Socialism as it competed with the USSR and North Korea.

10 Travel into and out of Romania (Romanian citizens abroad, and foreigners into Romania): The regulations made it extremely difficult for Romanian citizens to travel into non-socialist countries. One could apply for a passport every second year; however, the police could refuse its issue without offering any explanation.

One had to attach to the application for a passport a certificate from work, school or university proving the proper behavior of the applicant, and an invitation letter from a relative or an acquaintance had to be enclosed too. If a whole family solicited for passports, the authorities usually refused to issue a passport for one member of the family, thus forcing the traveler to return.

The law controlled very severely the travel of foreigners into Romania. No matter if they were tourists or visited their family, foreign citizens had to report when entering the country the number of days they intended to stay, and had to exchange a certain amount of money defined by the law for every day they intended to spend in Romania.

Furthermore a foreign citizen could stay only in a hotel. Any individual Romanian citizen could get a significant fine if it turned out that they secured accommodation for a foreigner. The only exception were first degree relatives, but they also had to be reported to the police, indicating the number of days they would spend at the person accommodating them.

Lidia Lieberman

Lidia Lieberman
Odessa
Ukraine
Interviewer: L. Grinshpoon
Date of interview: June 2003

Lidia Lieberman is a short woman. She lives with her husband Naum Balan in a 2-room apartment with furniture from the 1970s: a living room set, a table and a sofa. There are a few colorful landscapes and portraits on the wall; they were painted by her husband’s brother Michael. He is a professional painter. Lidia likes to sit on the balcony. She talks with her friends and acquaintances on the phone. There is a miniature tenant in the apartment: the cat Vasiliy who is usually sitting beside his mistress.

​Family Background

Growing Up

​During the War

​After the War

Glossary

Family Background

My paternal grandfather Yakov Lieberman was born in Zvenigorodka, Kiev region, in the 1860s. [Zvenigorodka was a district town in Kiev province; its population in 1897 was 16,923; Jews constituted 6,389. In 1909 there was a Talmud-Torah and three Jewish schools for boys.] In the late 1880s he married Leya, a Jewish girl. None of our relatives remembered my grandmother’s maiden name or her date of birth. Grandfather Yakov had a small business of some kind. He had a good conduct of accounting. My grandfather told me that in Zvenigorodka they had a small house and an orchard. In 1934 grandfather and grandmother sold their house in Zvenigorodka and moved to their older daughter Raisa in Odessa. Shortly after they moved, my grandmother had a heart attack when she was taking a bath in a public bath. The door of her cabin was closed and when they discovered what happened it was already too late. My grandmother was buried at the Jewish cemetery in Odessa. I don’t know whether it was a Jewish funeral. After my grandmother died grandfather Yakov moved in with my father. He had some money and my parents sold their room in a communal apartment and bought a 3-room apartment with the help of an estate agent. I remember grandfather Yakov well: he was a round-faced man of average height. He had thick dark hair with streaks of gold and a small beard. He wasn’t religious. I don’t remember him praying at home. He wore plain clothes like other men of his age in Odessa. Grandfather Yakov had fluent Yiddish, Ukrainian and Russian. He wrote poems in Russian and borrowed my manuals and dictionaries to check mistakes. He composed verses for birthdays and holidays. On holidays he always went with my parents and me, to my mother’s parents living in Odessa. In 1941 during the Great Patriotic War 1 grandfather Yakov, his daughter Raisa and granddaughter Zina evacuated to Alapayevsk, Sverdlovsk region [2,350 km from Odessa] in the Ural where grandfather died in 1943 at the age of 80. Grandmother Leya and grandfather Yakov had 12 children in Zvenigorodka. Only eight survived: five sons and three daughters. All children got education.

My father’s older brother Bention Lieberman was born in Zvenigorodka in 1889. During the Great Patriotic War he lived with his family in Dnepropetrovsk. Uncle Bention was a pharmacist and his Jewish wife Cherna taught at primary school. They had two children: son Matvey and daughter Rosa. They learned to play the violin in a music school. I know that my uncle was very proud of his children through his life. In our family we called him ‘the father of musicians’. They were in evacuation in Sverdlovsk [in Russia]. David Oistrach was there with his students during the war. [David Oistrach, 1908–1974, was a Soviet violinist, pedagogue, one of the greatest musicians of the XXth century.] He auditioned Bention’s children and took them to study in Moscow. Matvey and Rosa lived in a hostel. Their parents returned to Dnepropetrovsk after the war. After graduation from a conservatory Matvey taught at the Music College in Dnepropetrovsk and played in the Philharmonic. Later he moved to Novosibirsk where he was professor and dean at the conservatory. Rosa also graduated from Conservatory, violin department under the guidance of David Oistrach. She married a violinist, a Jewish man. His last name was Strugatski. They had two children. Rosa played in the State symphonic orchestra of the USSR. I met uncle Bention in the middle of the 1970s when he was over 80. He was interested in the history of our family and corresponded with all relatives. I met my cousins when they visited Odessa. Rosa came on tour with a State symphonic orchestra and Matvey came to symposia in Odessa Conservatory with his students from the Novosibirsk Conservatory. Uncle Bention died in 1973. His wife died in the early 1980s. Now Matvey Lieberman lives some where in Israel and Rosa lives in Moscow.

My father’s older sister Raisa Zin’ko was born in Zvenigorodka in 1891. She became a widow in the 1920s. I don’t know who her husband was. She lived in Odessa with her four children: sons Abram, Izia and Monia and daughter Zina. My grandmother and grandfather were eager to help her and moved to Odessa to be at hand. Raisa had a very difficult life, but she gave education to all children. They lived in a 3-room apartment in Hospitalnaya Street. Their windows faced a small dark yard with a toilet and a water pump. Older sons Abram and Izia got married before the Great Patriotic War and lived with their families. In 1941 all three brothers went to the front. Monia and Abram perished. Izia returned home. Raisa, her daughter Zina, and grandfather Yakov were in evacuation in Alapayevsk. They returned to Odessa after the war. Raisa died in 1946. She was buried at the Second cemetery. Her son Izia Zin’ko finished the Polytechnic College and worked as an engineer at the confectionery factory. He has two daughters. His older daughter moved to Israel back in the 1970s. Izia hadn’t talked to her for a whole year before she left. He was a member of the Party and repudiated her, for Soviet power considered those who emigrate abroad to be ‘traitors’. Relatives or acquaintances delivered letters from her to his wife in secret, but she was afraid of writing her daughter back. When their daughter was leaving she and her husband were divorced and she was not allowed to take her son with her. Her parents raised him. When Izia died in the 1980s his widow and grandson moved to Israel. The boy got served in the army of Israel, got married and has two children. Raisa’s daughter Zina married a Jewish young man who was her neighbor. His last name was Taubenschlag. Zina finished Lingvin [Odessa College of Foreign Languages]. She was an English teacher at school. Zina’s older daughter Raisa named after her grandmother finished the Faculty of Foreign Languages of Odessa University and her younger daughter Alla finished a music school. Zina is 81. She writes me letters every now and then.

My father had another brother – Isaac, born in Zvenigorodka in 1895. All I know about him is that he married a Russian girl. Their daughter’s name was Lena. Uncle Isaac lived in Kerch. He perished at the front in 1941. I have no information about his wife.

My father’s brother Grisha, born in Zvenigorodka in 1898, lived in Belgium. Grandfather Yakov told me the reason why he moved, but I don’t remember the story. Grisha was married. He sent parcels and money to his father before the Great Patriotic War. During World War II Grisha was in a partisan unit in Belgium. Somebody reported on him when he came to see his wife one night. He was captured and hanged. Uncle Grisha’s wife wrote Bention about it after the war.

My father’s younger brother Abram, born in Zvenigorodka in 1900, lived with his Jewish wife in Dnepropetrovsk before the Great Patriotic War. He must have got a good education since he knew Latin and French. Uncle Abram was a pharmacy interior designer. During the Great Patriotic War he was a private at the front. His first wife Eva was an assistant doctor. She worked at a hospital at the front. Eva left my uncle and married a colonel during the war. After the war uncle Abram lived with his sister Sonia in Kiev for some time. Aunt Sonia was trying to arrange for him to get married, but nothing came out of her efforts. Once he came to visit his relatives in Odessa. There was a Jewish woman whose husband perished at the front renting a room from them. Her name was Tsylia. She was 23 years younger than uncle Abram. They got married in the early 1950s. They rented an apartment and then they bought a cooperative apartment in Cheryomushki district [a new district in Odessa]. Uncle Abram earned well and didn’t allow his wife to go to work. Uncle Abram died in 1978, before turning 80 years of age. He was buried at the Jewish cemetery. Tsylia died in the 1990s. They didn’t have any children and I inherited their apartment. 

My father’s sister Lisa was born in Zvenigorodka in 1903. She married a Jewish man whose last name was Warenbud. They lived in Dnepropetrovsk. Her husband worked at the railroad. They had two sons: Volodia and Boris. Boris got in a train accident at the age of 11 and had his leg amputated. He had an artificial limb made for him. He could ride a bicycle and do physical exercise regardless of his handicap. He was a crew leader in an association of invalids. Boris got married at the age of about 40. Volodia lived in Belaya Tserkov. He was leader of a steeplejack crew. Aunt Lisa died in the 1960s. I guess Lisa’s husband died in the 1950s. Boris lives in Dnepropetrovsk and Volodia lives in Belaya Tserkov.  

My father’s younger sister Sonia, born in Zvenigorodka in 1906, lived in Kiev. Aunt Sonia was very cheerful and charming. She was married to Emmanuel Koldertsov. He was a Jew. They didn’t have any children, but they had a good and interesting life. Before the Great Patriotic War Emmanuel Koldertsov worked as a correspondent of Izvestiya newspaper in Ukraine. [Izvestiya – News, daily communist newspaper published in Moscow.] He told me that during the Great Patriotic War he worked as a front line correspondent. He got in air raids, but he managed through the war without being wounded. Aunt Sonia was in evacuation in Tashkent. After the war Emmanuel often came to Odessa as a correspondent of his paper and Sonia always accompanied him. Emmanuel was a very sociable and easy-going man. He always had stories or funny jokes to tell and we always enjoyed his company. In summer they spent vacations in recreation centers in Odessa. I liked to visit Sonia in Kiev when I grew up. I liked the town. Sonia always had guests in her house. I met my cousins Volodia and Boris Warenbud from Dnepropetrovsk in that house. Uncle Emmanuel died in the 1970s. Sonia died in Kiev in 1985 at the age of 79.

My father Moisey Lieberman was born in Zvenigorodka, Kiev province, in 1893. He finished the Commercial College in Kiev in the 1910s and became an accountant. He worked as an accountant for his father in Zvenigorodka. I have no information about his life during the October Revolution 2 or Civil War 3. In 1928 my father visited grandfather Yakov’s acquaintances in Shpola where he met their niece Vera Ostrovskaya, my future mother who came to visit them from Odessa.

My maternal grandfather Shama Ostrovski was born in the 1870s. I don’t know where he came from. All I know about his relatives is, that my grandfather’s brother David Ostrovski and his wife and their son lived in Zhytomir. During the Great Patriotic War David couldn’t evacuate since his wife was paralyzed. During the war they were in the ghetto in Zhmerinka. David was a very religious man. He was one of the leaders in the Jewish community. The community collected money that they paid Romanians for permission to go out of the ghetto. When the front line was coming close to Zhmerinka a Romanian acquaintance informed David that Germans were going to liquidate the ghetto. When inmates heard the car engines in the morning they thought those were Germans coming, but they happened to be Russian troops that broke through the front line and came to liberate Jews from the ghetto. I don’t remember when David died. In the 1950s David’s son Boris moved to Odessa, but we rarely saw each other. David’s granddaughter Lialia Ostrovskaya, doctor of medical sciences, lives somewhere in Israel.

Grandfather Shama lived in Shpola. [Shpola is in Zvenigorodka district, Kiev province. According to the census of 1897 the population of Shpola constituted 11,933 residents; 5,388 of them were Jews. In 1905 there was a charity society, an almshouse, 4 prayer houses and a big synagogue. In 1910 there was a Talmud-Torah and private Jewish schools for boys and girls.] My grandfather owned a small feather pillow and mattress factory. There were few employees working for him. Grandfather’s family was wealthy. They lived in a house with a garden. My grandfather wanted to give education to his children. He closed his business and moved to Odessa in 1917. My grandfather and grandmother lived in a big sunny room on the 2nd floor in Baranov Street. I don’t know what grandfather Shama was doing during the Civil War. Since I remember him he was logistics manager at the fur factory in Odessa located near the railway station. My grandfather was a tall, broad-shouldered slender and handsome man. At least, I saw him as such. My grandfather had a pointed beard and moustache. He cared about us a lot. He was always worried that grandmother didn’t give us enough food. Once grandmother asked him to give me semolina at the dacha. He put in a large piece of butter and an egg. I ate it and felt sick. I even had a high fever. When I had scarlet fever and had to stay in bed my grandfather visited me every day bringing me chocolate and fruit. Grandfather Shama was religious. He knew Yiddish and Hebrew. He attended the synagogue in Pushkinskaya Street regularly before the Great Patriotic War. After the war he went to the synagogue in Peresyp [in an industrial neighborhood in the outskirts of Odessa]. He prayed at home. He liked family gatherings on Jewish holidays when there were 20 or more members of the family celebrating. He told us, children, about the holidays. Grandfather Shama died of a lung disease in 1947. He bequeathed his religious accessories to the synagogue: a tallit, a tefillin and probably something else. I don’t know the details. For this grandmother Surah was granted a seat of her own at the synagogue. My grandfather was buried at the Jewish cemetery in takhrikhim (cerements) according to Jewish traditions. His old friend recited prayers in our house through the night.

My maternal grandmother Surah-Beila was born in the 1870s. I don’t know her maiden name or place of birth. Grandmother Surah was a wonderful housewife. She was an excellent cook. I liked hamantashen with poppy seed filling and fludn [pies with nuts and jam]. On Friday evenings grandmother always lit candles. They observed kashrut in the family. Grandmother Surah and grandfather Shama observed Pesach. I remember a big dish in the center of the table, a decanter and special wine glasses around it. Wine was poured in glasses and matzah put on a linen towel. My cousin sister Asia or I were to steal a piece of matzah so that nobody saw us. Of course, they just pretended they didn’t see us. I was always shy and so was Asia and we kept pushing each other to avoid doing it. There was a chicken bone, horseradish, a carrot or beetroot and something else – I don’t quite remember. Matzah was to be dipped in wine. Adults had to drink four glasses of wine. I also remember that the door was left open for Elijah the prophet to come into the house. During the Great Patriotic War my grandmother and grandfather were in evacuation in Stalinabad [Dushanbe since 1961, 3,250 km from Odessa], in Tajikistan, where we were, too. After the war we returned to Odessa. I remember that after grandfather Shama died my mother and I went to pick my elderly grandmother from her prayer on the Yom Kippur from the synagogue in Peresyp. It was hard to get inside, so crowded it was. Grandmother Surah died in 1961 and was buried at the Jewish cemetery. Grandmother Surah and grandfather Shama had six children: four sons and two daughters. They all finished a secondary school.

My mother’s oldest brother Isay was born in Shpola in 1897. All I know about him is that he lived in Kiev. His wife’s name was Eva and his daughter’s name was Lena. This is all I can say about him.

My mother’s next brother Michael, born in Shpola in 1900, lived in Odessa. He was married to a Jewish girl named Tsylia. They didn’t have any children. They lived in a communal apartment in Baranov Street near grandfather’s home. Michael was an accountant in the district consumer association. Few years before the Great Patriotic War Michael had a severe surgery on his intestines and was unfit for army service. His wife and he were in evacuation in Stalinabad, Tajikistan. He worked as raw material manager in the Tajikistan consumer association. He was a very honest man. When they returned they settled down in grandfather’s apartment since they failed to get their prewar apartment back. He was religious and read the Torah that grandfather gave him. He went to the synagogue in Peresyp on holidays. He died in 1978. His wife Tsylia died in 1991.

My mother’s brother Solomon, born in Shpola in 1902, lived in Odessa with his family. He died of croupous pneumonia in 1939, at the age of 38. His daughter Musia was 4 years younger than I (she was born in 1933). They lived in evacuation in Stalinabad with us. Solomon’s widow Fira remarried after the Great Patriotic War and moved to Moscow with her daughter. Musia calls me every now and then.

My mother’s older sister Tsylia, born in Shpola in 1907, lived in Odessa. Her husband’s name was Abram Jerusalimski. Their daughter Asia was a couple years older than I. Tsylia’s husband was chief accountant at a big plant in Odessa. Tsylia didn’t observe any Jewish traditions. During the war they were in evacuation in Tashkent where Tsylia husband’s plant evacuated. After the war they returned to Odessa. Tsylia died in 1980s and Abram died in 1950s. Their daughter Asia Krivosheyeva lives in Odessa. She has two sons. Petia lives in Grodno, Belarus, where he works at the drama theater. He has a daughter. Boris, the junior, lives near us in Odessa. He often comes to see us. His daughter Diana lives in Baltimore, in the USA with her mother.

My mother’s youngest brother Pyotr, born in Shpola in 1915, was a professional military this is not the right word. He was the tallest and most handsome of my mother’s brothers. He got married when he studied in a military college. His wife Tsylia and daughter Raya who was 4 years old in 1941, lived with us in Stalinabad during the Great Patriotic War. Pyotr defended Odessa. His unit moved to the vicinity of Sevastopol where he perished in 1941.

My mother Vera Ostrovskaya, born in Shpola in 1905, was 12 years younger than my father. I know that my mother studied in a grammar school in Odessa. She could speak French. I remember her speaking French with Abram when he visited us after the war. In the early 1920s my mother had a fiancé in Odessa who was a member of the Party. One day after the Great Patriotic War my mother and I met this man when we were having a walk in Alexandrovski park. I told my father about it. He was a jealous man, but he knew my mother’s honesty and decency and there wasn’t much ado about it. In 1928 my mother met my father when visiting her aunt in Shpola.

Growing Up

My parents got married in Moscow where my father got a job in 1928. They had a Jewish wedding with a chuppah on 6 November, in Moscow. They also had a civil ceremony. I was born in Moscow in 1929. I lived there with my parents until I reached 4. I remember little about our life in Moscow: my father went to work and my mother read to me, played and walked with me. I liked playing with dolls. Then we moved to Odessa. We lived in a room in a house on the corner of Malaya Arnautskaya and Soviet army Streets and then we moved into a 3-room apartment in Proviantskaya Street that was later renamed to Astashkin Street. We had two connected rooms with a balcony and one separate room where my paternal grandfather Yakov lived. I liked to come to my grandfather’s room and look at his desk. My father was an accountant. My mother was a housewife. My father believed a woman had to be at home and look after children. My mother got up very early in the morning. When I got up she had already done shopping at the market and other house chores. My mother liked embroidery. She liked to alter old clothes making an apron, for example, from an old piece. We didn’t have a sewing machine so then she sewed with hands. I also learned to do stitch work. I’ve always liked it. My parents observed some of Jewish traditions. They always observed the Day of Atonement [Yom Kippur] and fasted every year. On Friday evenings my mother made delicious dinner and lit candles. At Pesach we used fancy crockery. Mother cooked gefilte fish and cooked dishes made of matzah. We often visited my mother’s parents on high holidays. Grandfather Yakov went there with us. We spoke Russian at home. Only my father and grandfather spoke Yiddish sometimes. At that time Yiddish was called a ‘jargon’.

Before the October Revolution our house belonged to Reznik, an old Jew, and his family. They lived in this house as well. His granddaughter Rita and I were friends. We still keep in touch. Rita’s grandfather was a short fat old man, but he was very quick. His wife Reiza was always busy working about the house. They sold milk. The old man delivered milk in milk cans to houses or his customers came to buy milk at his home. In the 1920s he kept cows in the yard of Gaevski pharmacy. I remember running along the tram track to the Starokonny market where cowsheds were located. The old man and Rita’s mother, who was a housewife, took care of the cowsheds. Rita had a sister. Her father Boris worked in the docks. They were in evacuation and returned to Odessa after the war. Rita finished the College of Oil and then a college in Moscow. After finishing the college she lived in Odessa. She married a Jewish man. His last name was Widerman. She has two daughters. They moved to America in the 1980s. We recently received a letter with her photographs with her husband and grandchildren. She has a wonderful husband.

I was a thin and sickly child. Every summer grandfather Shama and grandmother Surah rented a dacha in Lusdorf [today Chernomorka, a village at the seashore near Odessa] where I spent time in summer to improve health. The air of the steppe was very good for my grandfather and prices there were quite reasonable. I played with village children. We ran, caught butterflies, played ‘hide-and-seek’, jumped a skipping rope and other games. My mother often visited us. She brought food products from Privoz [a big market in Odessa]. My mother liked to spend vacations in a village where one could buy milk, fruit and vegetables at reasonable price. When I went to school we spent summer vacations in Frunzivka and Kodyma [villages in Odessa region]. In Frunzivka we rented a room in a house. The son of an owner worked at school and they had a nice collection of books: Russian and foreign classics. I liked reading lying under a cherry or apple tree in the garden. The owner used to say ‘Why lie here? Take a walk to the center’. I got up, went to the center of the village, entered into the only store, looked at the shelves and went back to the garden where I continued reading. In the evening my mother and I used to play dominoes. My mother and I stayed in the village through the summer and my father came there on vacation. When he went back to work, he used to spend his weekends with us in the village. He commuted by train. It took him a couple of hours to get to the village.

My parents always had a Christmas tree decorated and it always lasted until my birthday on 8 January. Our relatives came to my birthday party at 6-7 pm and stayed until midnight. I remember my 6th birthday. It was a cold winter and on this day there was a snowstorm and the ground was covered with ice. There were no guests by 10 pm and my mother suggested that we had dinner. We did and she began to clean up the table when all relatives came all of a sudden. They had Claudia Shulzhenko with them. [Claudia Ivanovna Shulzhenko, 1906–1984, was a Soviet pop singer, whose name is associated with the start of Soviet pop singing.] Her husband Koralli was a distant relative of my mother brother Solomon’s wife. The party lasted until early in the morning. Claudia sang. When I went to school I invited schoolmates to my birthday parties. My mother made color carton field caps like children who came from Spain had. [Editor’s note: the USSR supported republican units in Spain during the Civil War in 1936–1939. After they were defeated, many Spanish children were taken to the Soviet Union. They wore such color caps.] Brunette children received red or pink caps and blondes received light blue or green caps. Children could take them home after the party.

I liked going to parades with my father on October Revolution Day 4 and 1 of May. He bought me a balloon and a small flag on such occasions. There were no members of the Party in our family and arrests in 1937 [during the Great Terror] 5 had no impact on us. In 1937 I went to school # 35 in Komsomolskaya Street. I finished elementary school before the war. I only had excellent marks at school. I became a young Octobrist 6. My first teacher’s name was Elizaveta Grigorievna. She was a Jewish woman. Once, in the late 1940s my mother bumped into her in a street. My mother recognized her, although Elizaveta Grigorievna had grown very old. Elizaveta Grigorievna was eager to see me. My mother and I bought flowers and chocolates and went to visit her: it was a very moving meeting.

During the War

When the Great Patriotic War began my father went to the army. We accompanied him to the gathering point in the yard of the Water Engineering College on 25 July 1941. My father didn’t think we needed to evacuate. He said there was nothing for us to fear while if we left home we might not be able to get food on the way – everything was expensive and we might die.

I associate the first days of the war with fear. When air raids began I was running downstairs skipping three steps. All tenants of our house got together in the basement apartments. Of course, now I understand that if a bomb had hit the house the building would have collapsed and buried us under the debris. My mother had no fear. When an air raid happened when she was doing her needlework on the balcony she continued what she was doing and if asked to go downstairs she answered that she would come to a top and then come downstairs. By the time she finished a pattern the air raid was usually over. 

My mother’s younger brother Pyotr Ostrovski – he was a military – was packing for his family and his brother Michael’s family to evacuate to Tajikistan where his wife’s relatives lived. Uncle Michael said ‘If we leave and Vera (my mother) and her daughter stay, we shall be responsible for their deaths. Go take them here’. Therefore, the issue of our evacuation was resolved. I remember this day in late August. In the morning grandfather Yakov went to see his older daughter Raisa. I was playing with my friend Rita when uncle Pyotr wearing a hard hat and a military uniform took me by my hand and we went upstairs quickly. My mother had packed two bags: one with winter clothes and another one with summer clothing. She had kept these bags to save some belongings in case of fire emergency. Uncle Pyotr picked the bags, took me by my hand and with my mother we went downstairs, where a truck was waiting for us at the front door. There were other families in the body of the truck. The truck drove us to the harbor where we boarded a ship. In the last minute one family changed their mind and got off the boat. They happened to take our bag with winter clothes by mistake. Later they gave this bag to uncle Pyotr and he took it to our apartment. My mother and I needed those clothes so badly in evacuation. Our boat headed to Novorossiysk, but since there was bombing or something else, we got off either in Nikolaev or Kherson – I can’t remember.

We boarded some railroad platforms and moved on to the east. On the way the train personnel tried to make us get off in some kolkhoz twice, but Pyotr’s wife managed to convince them to leave us alone pointing at the smaller children. I was afraid of having to stay all by myself losing my mother at such moments. I remember that once we didn’t get any bread or water. It was hot and we were thirsty. Younger children were crying. My mother used to give me boiled water, but this time nobody cared since there was only little water that we could get. Once we picked water from a lake on the way – nobody cared about any bugs or worms. At one of the bigger stations where the train stopped, I told my mother that I was dying for a bowl of hot soup. The train was supposed to stand at the station for two hours. My mother took me by my hand. She had her purse with some money and documents in another hand. We remembered the platform our train was on and went to look for a bowl of soup. We had some soup and were about to go back when all of a sudden we remembered that we needed to buy some bread. My mother asked someone where we could find a bakery, but someone mentioned to her that there was a train leaving. Two soldiers were on the platform. Each of them had a loaf of bread in his hand. They gave us this bread and didn’t take any money from us. When we came to the platform where our train was supposed to be it was not there. We were told that the train moved to another platform. We went there and saw it leaving. We ran after the train. Someone lifted me and I screamed ‘Mama!’ My mother was lifted there, too. Everything ended well.

We arrived in Stalinabad where Pyotr wife Tsylia’s relatives lived. One of them worked at the Central Committee of the Party in Tajikistan. They met us, gave us hot water to wash and accommodated us in a room in a kindergarten. Pyotr’s wife Tsylia became a teacher in the kindergarten. She was a young beautiful woman full of life. She designed costumes for Soviet holidays and made preparations for celebration in the kindergarten. My mother went to a military registry office to ask for accommodation. She received a big room in the grain supply office in the center of the town. This was a one-storied building with barred windows. There was a shelf, a table and some other piece of furniture in the room. There was also a part of a hallway that we could occupy. Soon there were 8 of us in this room: my mother and I, my mother’s brother Michael and his wife Tsylia, grandmother Surah and grandfather Shama, Fira my mother’s brother Solomon’s widow, and her daughter Musia. Grandfather Shama worked somewhere for some time, but then he got ill and stayed at home with grandmother Surah. Uncle Michael was a very decent and honest man and was well respected and honored. He was logistics manager of the Tajik consumer association and received a nice 2-room apartment soon. I often went to see uncle Michael. Michael’s wife Tsylia worked as a telegrapher at a post office. My mother went to work in a diner. At first she peeled vegetables. When they learned that she was smart and educated she was made a waitress and then a cashier. My mother brought some bread and soup from the diner. We could buy inexpensive vegetables: I remember sweet radish that we made salad of. Sometimes uncle Michael wrote me little messages for food storage facilities where we could buy dried melon and apricots. These fruit were only supplied to the front and to hospitals. They were sweet and delicious.

I went to the 5th form of a Russian school where we also studied the Tajik language. I was good at my studies and got along well with my schoolmates. I had a chore helping one Tajik boy to improve his Russian and he helped me with the Tajik language. I can still remember few Tajik words. I liked the town. Its center resembled Odessa a little. There were mountains covered with snow surrounding the town. There were aryks with cool water even at the temperature of plus 40 degree Celsius. One summer was so hot that the town authorities even issued an order to make a long interval in the afternoon. I saw women wearing a paranja [a fine black grid of horse hair]. I was surprised to see men wearing cotton wool robes and fur hats. The local residents explained that it was the most comfortable outfit for such heat. I also drank green tea for the first time there. Tajiks are very hospitable people. There were many kishlak [Tajik] villages around the town. We often went out of town after school and when we went across the kishlak local residents, they often invited us to a meal. They traditionally invited all travelers to share a meal with. We sat on the floor where they were eating plov with their hands. They teased us when we couldn’t eat with hands. They were mild rainy winters in Stalinabad. We wore ichigi, fine leather boots, and galoshes. Before going inside a house, we left galoshes near the door.

We didn’t have any information about my father. My mother’s brother Pyotr wrote us from Odessa before occupation that he left my father’s letters that he had sent home and the bag with our clothes at home. They were all gone during occupation. This is how it happened that we don’t have a single letter from my father.

My mother’s sister Tsylia, her husband and their daughter were in evacuation in Tashkent. Uncle Abram was chief accountant at a military plant and was not subject to service in the army. In early 1944 they sent us some money and a letter where they wrote that we had to be prepared for returning to Odessa. They had included my grandparents, my mother and me on the list of those who were to return to the town. I passed my exams for the 7th form at school and we moved to Tashkent. Tsylia and Abram met us and helped us to find accommodation. We lived in a kibitka hut [nomad tent]. My mother and grandparents didn’t work. It was a very cold winter with severe frosts. We didn’t have proper clothes to wear. I couldn’t go to school. There was a small stove in the hut. Our relatives gave us some fuel for the stove. Life was 3-4 times more expensive than in Stalinabad. We couldn’t wait until Abram’s plant was returning to Odessa. Grandfather Shama wrote his brother David in Zhmerinka. David replied and sent us an invitation letter that we required for our trip back to Zhmerinka.

My grandfather Shama, grandmother Surah, my mother and I went to Zhmerinka. On the way somebody stole my mother’s purse with all documents, including my birth certificate. Life was a little easier in Zhmerinka, but I didn’t go to school. I stayed at home reading a lot. Uncle David rented a room for us. We couldn’t stay in his apartment since he had to take care of his paralyzed wife. I don’t know what he did before the war, but when we lived there he made shoe polish at home. Grandfather Shama wrote a letter to the fur factory in Odessa where he worked before the war and received an invitation to return to Odessa. He went there alone and settled down in his room in a communal apartment. We followed him and moved in with grandfather and grandmother. We celebrated Victory Day [9 May] at home. I went to Deribassovskaya Street [main street in Odessa]. It was a big holiday. Uncle Michael and his wife also stayed in grandfather's room when they returned in 1946. We lived together since my uncle failed to have his apartment back. My grandfather died after a long disease in 1947. An old Jewish man who we knew recited Kaddish for him in synagogue. He bequeathed his tallit, tefillin and maybe some books to the synagogue in Peresyp. He left a Torah to his son Michael. Grandmother Surah lived with Michael’s family. She died in 1961 and was buried beside grandfather Shama.

After the War

In late 1947 we received an official notification that my father was missing in action. We had our apartment given back to us. We had two connected rooms back, and a separate room was occupied by a Russian woman. We got along well with her. My mother went to work at a haberdashery shop where they manufactured brooches, buttons, clips, etc. She earned 600-700 rubles. I went to study at the 8th form in school for girls #36. In the 9th form I joined Komsomol 7, but I never took an active part in the public life. On holidays our teacher of physics invited boys from the artillery school where he also taught physics, or we went to parties in their school. I also had friends. Once I met my friend Rita’s acquaintance Naum Balan. He was a student of the Communications College. Many years later he became my second husband. We got together for parties: we played lotto, danced and had fun. Naum sometimes accompanied me home. He lived in the hostel of his college near my home. However, there was not a sign of a romance between us. We didn’t see each other for months. Then he showed up in Rita’s company again. Naum had a camera and we have quite a number of photos where we are together. 

After finishing the 9th form my friend Galia, a Jewish girl, and I decided to go to study at the Dentist Faculty in medical school. Galia’s father was regional chief rontgenologist. He explained to me that there was high competition for this faculty and the course of studies was 3 years. He advised me to try the Prosthodontic Faculty. I did and received a diploma of a dental technician. I got a job assignment in Novaya Vorontsovka, Kherson region. My predecessor was a dental technician with no diploma, but he had experience and equipment and all clients were his, accordingly. I only received a desk and a stool. I went to the Medical Equipment store in Kherson to buy the equipment I needed, but there wasn’t much on sale. I came to an agreement with a shop assistant and he informed me when I had to come to the store to get what I needed. I traveled to Kherson a lot. Sometimes I had to spend up to 10 days there. I could stay with my aunt’s friends, it wasn’t quite convenient. I often went to Odessa on these days. I rented a room and the hospital reimbursed my expenses. When I was in hospital, I often worked at the registration office, although I was eager to do the job I was hired for. I spent there one year and 8 months. I still didn’t have all equipment I needed. I went to the medical care department in Kherson, explained my situation to them and resigned from hospital. I cannot say anything about the Doctors’ Plot 8 since it somehow went past me. I’ve never been interested in politics.

I returned to Odessa in 1953. It was difficult to find a job. There was high competition. I didn’t have either money to buy equipment or influential acquaintances, which could help me to get a job. My former fellow students changed their profession to something different. Uncle Michael helped me to get a temporary job with document control in a company for invalids. My neighbor and friend was a bacteriologist in a clinical laboratory in the regional hospital. She advised me to accept a job in the laboratory of pathological anatomy. She said they had a good team of employees there. I agreed. Director of the laboratory professor Chayutin, a Jew, was a short and deaf man. He had a hearing aid. At the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, before the occupation, he was arrested by military patrol several times. They suspected him of espionage. They probably thought he had a camera in his hearing device. But then they set him free. Professor asked me whether I was afraid of corpses. I answered that besides my grandfather I had had no contact with corpses. He said that one should beware of living people that could hurt. I was employed for a probation period with no payment. Chayutin was a very captious, but fair manager. He was a very educated and intelligent man. 

I got adjusted to my new job and colleagues. There were few Jews in the laboratory: doctor Sophia Vladimirovna Derbarindiner – we all adored her –, and a lab assistant. I never faced any anti-Semitism. My colleagues treated me with respect. We made a great team together. At Easter our Russian colleagues brought Easter bread and other treats and I brought matzah at Pesach and hamantashen at Purim. My Jewish colleague, the lab assistant, kept her nationality a secret and our colleagues showed less respect toward her.

A day before Stalin’s death in 1953 I had a tooth pulled out. Something went wrong and I had hemorrhage at night. My mother took me to a dental clinic in the morning. I was having my gum sewed up when we heard that Stalin died. I went to work. Oh, Lord, everybody was crying. They couldn’t imagine life without their leader. I was also sorry.

One of my friends introduced me to a young man who had just finished his service in the army and returned to Odessa. His name was Grisha Gaber. He was one year older than I. We met for about 9 months before we got married in 1953. We lived with my mother in our apartment in Astashkin Street. Grisha worked at a plant. He earned well and we had a good life. He had wonderful parents. His father Israel Gaber, a very handsome man, was a Party official. During the Great Patriotic War he was at the front. He took part in the defense of Odessa. He was wounded and shell-shocked. This had an impact on his health. He died after he had had few strokes in the 1950s. Grisha’s mother Sopha, a housewife, lives in Hospitalnaya Street. Grisha’s older brother Boris, a former military, lives with his family in Tairovo [new district in Odessa]. I keep in touch with them.

My mother-in-law rented a dacha in summer and we lived there. Grisha was not quite fond of traveling, but we did travel every now and then. We took a cruise on the Black Sea. The ship stopped in the ports of the Crimea Caucasus. Grisha and I took a tour to Leningrad once and another time I went there with my colleagues. Once Grisha’s friends took us to Riga on a driving tour in their car. We went via Kiev, Minsk and Vilnius. It was a great tour. We stayed with Grisha’s relatives in Riga. Grisha and I lived together for 20 years. We didn’t have any children. We didn’t observe Jewish holidays and didn’t go to the synagogue. I divorced him in 1975. I got tired of his love affairs. We got a divorce in court, but we divided our property ourselves.

My mother died in 1981. She was buried at the Jewish cemetery. After my mother died my ex-husband and I exchanged our apartment: I got a big room in a communal apartment in Chelyuskintsev Street. I had my furniture moved there and bought a TV and a fridge. I lived alone. In the 1970s, 1980s I often stayed in recreation centers in Odessa: four years in a row I stayed in the recreation center named after Gorky getting medical treatment for my intestines and stomach. I also stayed in Lermontovskiy recreation center and in the center in Bolshoy Fontan. Then I went to take mud treatment in Berdyansk. I spent vacations in Leningrad or in Kiev where I stayed with my aunt Sonia. I spent all my free time with my closest friend Rita Reznik.

In 1982 I resumed relations with my acquaintance, Naum Balan. He lived in Soroki town in Moldavia. Rita wrote him about my situation. Naum wrote me a letter and then came on a visit to Odessa. Naum cared about me: he visited me on all Soviet holidays – 1 May and October Revolution Day, New Year and on my birthday. I also visited him in Soroki. He was an engineer in the operations department in a construction company and went on numerous business trips. I joined him when I had few days off at work. Sometimes we went to Tiraspol where his younger brother Michael lived with his family. I met his favorite nieces: Luda, the oldest, lived with me when she studied in Odessa Construction College. The younger one Tatiana studied in Tiraspol, in Pedagogical College. Naum has always been fond of theater and cinema. We’ve been to all theaters in the town. We often went to museums and art exhibitions. 

My health condition became much worse in the late of 1980s. Once, when I was going home by trolley bus from the railway station after seeing off Naum, the trolley bus pulled off and I fell. Other passengers helped me to get off at the nearest hospital where I got first medical aid. However, I didn’t feel well and had to go to hospital where they diagnosed concussion of the brain. It took me few months to recover. One night I slipped and fell. I broke my leg and injured my face. I had to go to hospital where doctors were giving me a certificate of an invalid, but I explained that I had to go back to work, I couldn’t live without work. I worked until 1994.

In 1995 with Naum we decided to live together. He sold his apartment in Soroki and moved to Odessa. My aunt Tsylia left me her one-room apartment in Cheryomushki [a new district in Odessa]. We exchanged this apartment and my room for a 2-room apartment with balconies and all comforts in a new district of the town. Our apartment is on the second floor. This is a very important factor for us since we are old people and there is no elevator in the house. Gmilus Hesed provides great assistance to us. They provide food packages, pay for medications, visits to a doctor. Volunteers help us about the house. I hardly ever leave my home. I call relatives on the phone. Boris Krivosheev, my cousin Asia’s son, often comes to see us. He lives nearby. He comes to do hard home work about the apartment since Naum cannot do hard physical work. We read Jewish newspapers in Russian Or Sameach and Shamrey Shabos that publish news of the Jewish life in Odessa and about Jewish holidays and traditions. We have the Torah my grandfather Shama left to my mother’s brother Michael. Naum and I decided to give it to the Jewish museum. We’ve read in a newspaper that this museum was founded in Odessa in 2003. We didn’t observe Sabbath and the Jewish holidays.

Glossary:

1 Great Patriotic War

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

2 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 WWI, 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 Civil War (1918-1920)

The Civil War between the Reds (the Bolsheviks) and the Whites (the anti-Bolsheviks), which broke out in early 1918, ravaged Russia until 1920. The Whites represented all shades of anti-communist groups – Russian army units from World War I, led by anti-Bolshevik officers, by anti-Bolshevik volunteers and some Mensheviks and Social Revolutionaries. Several of their leaders favored setting up a military dictatorship, but few were outspoken tsarists. Atrocities were committed throughout the Civil War by both sides. The Civil War ended with Bolshevik military victory, thanks to the lack of cooperation among the various White commanders and to the reorganization of the Red forces after Trotsky became commissar for war. It was won, however, only at the price of immense sacrifice; by 1920 Russia was ruined and devastated. In 1920 industrial production was reduced to 14% and agriculture to 50% as compared to 1913.

4 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 day 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.

5 Great Terror (1934-1938)

During the Great Terror, or Great Purges, which included the notorious show trials of Stalin's former Bolshevik opponents in 1936-1938 and reached its peak in 1937 and 1938, millions of innocent Soviet citizens were sent off to labor camps or killed in prison. The major targets of the Great Terror were communists. Over half of the people who were arrested were members of the party at the time of their arrest. The armed forces, the Communist Party, and the government in general were purged of all allegedly dissident persons; the victims were generally sentenced to death or to long terms of hard labor. Much of the purge was carried out in secret, and only a few cases were tried in public ‘show trials’. By the time the terror subsided in 1939, Stalin had managed to bring both the party and the public to a state of complete submission to his rule. Soviet society was so atomized and the people so fearful of reprisals that mass arrests were no longer necessary. Stalin ruled as absolute dictator of the Soviet Union until his death in March 1953.

6 Young Octobrist

In Russian Oktyabrenok, or ‘pre-pioneer’, designates Soviet children of seven years or over preparing for entry into the pioneer organization

7 Komsomol

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

8 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.

Elena Drapkina: A Jewish partisan

In 2006, Vera Postavinskaya, one of our most insightful interviewers, visited Elena Drapkina in her St Petersburg apartment. Then 82 years old, Mrs Drapkina spent three afternoons sharing her life story: of growing up in a patriotic Soviet family in Minsk, of being trapped in the horrific Minsk ghetto, and escaping to join the Partisans. Produced by Roman Domnich and narrated by Elena Romanova, an actress in St Petersburg, here is the harrowing story of a woman swept up in the horrors of war, and how she fought the Germans until victory day.

Jewish soldiers and partisans in the Soviet Army during the Second World War

Over 450,000 Jews served in the Soviet Army during the Second World War, or as it is referred to in Russia, The Great Patriotic War. Around 140,000 fell fighting, and tens of thousands were cited for bravery. Indeed, by war’s end there were more than 100 Jewish generals and admirals fighting against the Germans and their allies.
This short film, produced by the award-winning documentary team of Agitprop Films in Sofia, pays tribute to the Jewish men and women who fought the Nazis.

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