After the denunciation of the cult of Stalin in the 1950s [at the Twentieth Party Congress] [20], when we lived in Kherson, my father met an acquaintance that asked him whether he had restored his party membership. My father went pale and said nothing to her. He didn't submit a request to be restored in the party. Perhaps, he was afraid that they would turn him down.
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Displaying 23521 - 23550 of 50826 results
Valeria Boguslavskaya
In 1937 arrest of the leading party activists began and the authorities suspected every person to be an 'enemy of the people' [19]. My father was expelled from the party and demoted. My mother destroyed all photographs including those where my father was photographed with German communists. The most difficult thing for my father was that he was expelled from the party because his faith and ideals were destroyed. He never spoke about this period of his life to my sister or me.
he collective of employees of the factory corresponded with German communists that even visited Kharkov. My father had a picture taken of him and Wilhelm Pieck [18].
My father Boris Boguslavskiy, after recovering from typhoid, was the director of a factory that processed raw materials for the manufacturing of felt, wool and other fabrics.
All of their friends were Jews but they never talked about Jewish traditions or holidays and they tried to destroy any Jewish roots that they had.
They went on picnics to the countryside.
They often had family and friend gatherings to celebrate 1st May and October Revolution Day [17].
In summer 1928 my father went to Kharkov region as a collectivization [15] officer. He fell ill with typhoid there and was brought to Kharkov unconscious. My grandmother Zlata contracted typhoid from him. It took a lot of effort to nurse them back to health. It took my father a long time to recover from what he saw in the villages - the forced removal of bread from farmers, the expropriation of kulak [16] property and the deportation of those that opposed the authorities to Siberia. It was awful for him to have to participate in these processes. He had to because he was a member of the party and believed what the party was doing to be right.
My grandmother Zlata came to look after Nelia and my parents hired a nanny.
In 1925 my mother met my father and they got married in April 1926. They had a civil ceremony, which was common at that time. They didn't have a Jewish wedding although my grandfather Zakhar insisted that they did.
He finished grammar school as an external student. He worked as an accountant and his wife worked as a doctor in Kharkov.
They spoke Russian and wanted to forget the language of their parents - Yiddish. They read Russian books and communicated with young poets, artists and revolutionaries.
After the Revolution she finished a Rabfak to learn how to read and write.
During the war Grisha perished at the front.
When the war began he wanted to go to the front but because of an accident at the plant he had two toes amputated and wasn't allowed to join the army.
With his plant he evacuated to Stalingrad and then Barnaul where he took part in the construction of the Barnaul tank plant.
My grandmother Hana Gandelsman, nee Zbarskaya, didn't work. My grandparents lived with the family of my grandmother's parents Isaak and Rohlia Zbarskiye. I don't know what my grandfather Isaak was doing. I only know that he had many children that got various professions: wagon driver [balagula], melamed and teacher at cheder. They were rather poor.
Her father Boruh Gandelsman, born in the 1860s, performed at Jewish weddings and parties. His family didn't have a stable income and they were very poor. My grandfather also tried to teach children to play the fiddle, but there were very few parents that could afford to pay for classes and this work didn't produce any profit.
My interest in the Jewish language and traditions is based on literature. I don't observe Jewish traditions or celebrate holidays. I don't even know them. Israel is just another country for me. I do sympathize with its people but I simply don't agree with many things happening there. I don't think that one should respond to murder and terrorism with similar methods. I love Ukraine and, frankly speaking, I don't know who I am: a Jewish Ukrainian or a Ukrainian Jew.
I got married late. My husband Stanislav Rossoha is Ukrainian. He was born in Globino, Poltava region in 1943. He finished the Philological Faculty of Dnepropetrovsk University. We met a long time ago in Kharkov. Stanislav was a Ukrainian nationalist, he dedicated his life to the struggle for an independent Ukraine. He had many friends among the dissidents. During the period of the struggle against dissidents in the 1970s he could have been arrested. An acquaintance of ours hid him in a mental hospital for some time.
I don't know why I couldn't publish my poems in all those years; whether it was vulgar anti-Semitism or whether it had to do with my relationship with Stanislav. It happened so that Stanislav married another woman after I moved to Kiev. But the years passed and he is my husband now. I'm on good terms with his daughters from his first marriage. I don't have any children of my own. It's amazing, but his younger daughter looks very much like me. My husband says it is because he has always thought about me. I write and translate a lot nowadays. The Kiev Institute of Judaism supports my activities. So I get involved in the Jewish life and come back to my roots one way or another. I read Jewish newspapers and study at the University of Spiritual Heritage of the Jewish people. We celebrate Sabbath in the community. I have many friends there. I try to remember to light Sabbath candles and we celebrate Jewish holidays at home.
I got married late. My husband Stanislav Rossoha is Ukrainian. He was born in Globino, Poltava region in 1943. He finished the Philological Faculty of Dnepropetrovsk University. We met a long time ago in Kharkov. Stanislav was a Ukrainian nationalist, he dedicated his life to the struggle for an independent Ukraine. He had many friends among the dissidents. During the period of the struggle against dissidents in the 1970s he could have been arrested. An acquaintance of ours hid him in a mental hospital for some time.
I don't know why I couldn't publish my poems in all those years; whether it was vulgar anti-Semitism or whether it had to do with my relationship with Stanislav. It happened so that Stanislav married another woman after I moved to Kiev. But the years passed and he is my husband now. I'm on good terms with his daughters from his first marriage. I don't have any children of my own. It's amazing, but his younger daughter looks very much like me. My husband says it is because he has always thought about me. I write and translate a lot nowadays. The Kiev Institute of Judaism supports my activities. So I get involved in the Jewish life and come back to my roots one way or another. I read Jewish newspapers and study at the University of Spiritual Heritage of the Jewish people. We celebrate Sabbath in the community. I have many friends there. I try to remember to light Sabbath candles and we celebrate Jewish holidays at home.
, Ukraine
In Kherson my mother got a job first and then my father found work at the department of culture. He was an economist there until he retired. In Lubny we lived in an apartment of the plant and we had to move out after my father was fired. In Kherson we rented a small room in a house without any comforts.
When we heard about Stalin's death I was on the edge of crying but my father told me fiercely, 'Shut up! Stop it!' We had his portrait with the mourning bands installed at school and we were reading the poem 'Vladimir Ilyich Lenin' by Mayakovsky in class. When it was my turn to read I had a lump in my throat and couldn't say a word.
When we heard about Stalin's death I was on the edge of crying but my father told me fiercely, 'Shut up! Stop it!' We had his portrait with the mourning bands installed at school and we were reading the poem 'Vladimir Ilyich Lenin' by Mayakovsky in class. When it was my turn to read I had a lump in my throat and couldn't say a word.
, Ukraine
I'm an engineer. A long time ago I began to write poems. At school I translated from Ukrainian into Russian and sometimes from English into Russian. The first poetess that I translated into Ukrainian was Veronika Tushnova. Later I got fond of Marina Tsvetaeva [27]. My first book of poems was published in 1965. The publishing house kept my manuscript for a long time until an acquaintance of mine called them and, introducing herself as a high official, told them to publish my book. She did it as a joke but it worked and my first book of poems was published. Then I couldn't publish a line until the middle of the 1990s. They just didn't publish any Jewish writers at all at the time. All publishing houses were state owned and there was a tough censorship. It was impossible to publish a single line.
I write poems in Ukrainian. In Kherson I had wonderful Ukrainian teachers and I learned the language to perfection. I love this language and I believe it to be my mother tongue. I don't know Yiddish. When my grandmother was alive I asked her to teach me Yiddish. She said, 'You won't need it'. A few years ago I entered an evening school to study Yiddish. Now I have a good conduct of Yiddish and translate Jewish poets. Recently a book of my poems and translations was published: they are translations of poems by Peretz Markish [28] and others.
I write poems in Ukrainian. In Kherson I had wonderful Ukrainian teachers and I learned the language to perfection. I love this language and I believe it to be my mother tongue. I don't know Yiddish. When my grandmother was alive I asked her to teach me Yiddish. She said, 'You won't need it'. A few years ago I entered an evening school to study Yiddish. Now I have a good conduct of Yiddish and translate Jewish poets. Recently a book of my poems and translations was published: they are translations of poems by Peretz Markish [28] and others.
, Ukraine
After finishing school I entered Kiev Polytechnic Institute. I finished school with a gold medal and I only had to pass an interview. I was very nervous. Perhaps, it was the result of malaria, which I had during the war. During the interview I didn't feel well and they called a doctor. It turned out I had a very low blood pressure. The teachers told me that I couldn't study at the institute with such a low blood pressure. I said through tears, 'Of course, I can only go work at a plant or collective farm [26] with my blood pressure'. They sent me to take exams and I got a '3' for composition, although I always wrote excellent compositions. It was clearly a demonstration of anti- Semitism. I realized that I had to go to an institute where I wouldn't care and wouldn't get excited. I entered Odessa Technological Institute. I studied successfully. There were many Jewish students and teachers and I actually faced no anti-Semitism there. Once my close friend told me that she had broken up with her young man because he was a Jew. Although I was a Jew she still confessed in me.
I could choose the location of my job assignment because I had the highest grades. My parents found out there was a position in Kharkov, although with a very low salary. They convinced me to go there and promised that they would join me. I went to Kharkov and lived there until 1975 when I exchanged my apartment for one in Kiev.
I could choose the location of my job assignment because I had the highest grades. My parents found out there was a position in Kharkov, although with a very low salary. They convinced me to go there and promised that they would join me. I went to Kharkov and lived there until 1975 when I exchanged my apartment for one in Kiev.
, Ukraine
My parents stayed in Kherson. My sister Nelia married Evsey Berman, a Jew, in 1955. Nelia died of cancer in 1980. My father died in 1982. He was devoted to the Communist Party until the last days of his life. My mother moved in with me. She died in Kiev in 1985.
, Ukraine
My parents continued to work in Barnaul and my sister and I attended school. In 1947 Nelia went to Kiev, where Esther lived, and entered Kiev Polytechnic Institute. A year later I fell ill with typhoid and inflammation of pelvis of the kidneys. It resulted in anemia and I actually couldn't walk and often fainted. The doctors said that to save my life we had to return to Ukraine where I was born. My parents wanted to go to Kiev or Kharkov. My father went to Moscow to obtain a permit, and he was offered a job with the Komsomolets plant in Lubny. We went there.
I faced anti-Semitism in Lubny. I went to the Russian school, located far from home, because I didn't know Ukrainian. When I was passing the Ukrainian school in the darkness the boys were shouting, 'Ah, Sarah!' [this Jewish name was used to abuse] beating me on the head with their school-bags. I told them that they were violating the constitution and that all people were equal in our country. Later my mother organized a group of the most incorrigible 'hooligans' that studied in our school and they escorted me home. I recited poems to them and told them of books that I had read.
My father was a dispatcher at the plant. When he decided to submit his request about restoration of his membership in the party an anti- Semitic campaign began: the Doctors' Plot [23]. My father was fired. Esther was working at the polyclinic at the Higher Party School [24]. She lost her job, too. My father couldn't find work for a long time and we had to leave for Kherson. Nelia received her [mandatory] job assignment [25] there upon graduation from the institute.
I faced anti-Semitism in Lubny. I went to the Russian school, located far from home, because I didn't know Ukrainian. When I was passing the Ukrainian school in the darkness the boys were shouting, 'Ah, Sarah!' [this Jewish name was used to abuse] beating me on the head with their school-bags. I told them that they were violating the constitution and that all people were equal in our country. Later my mother organized a group of the most incorrigible 'hooligans' that studied in our school and they escorted me home. I recited poems to them and told them of books that I had read.
My father was a dispatcher at the plant. When he decided to submit his request about restoration of his membership in the party an anti- Semitic campaign began: the Doctors' Plot [23]. My father was fired. Esther was working at the polyclinic at the Higher Party School [24]. She lost her job, too. My father couldn't find work for a long time and we had to leave for Kherson. Nelia received her [mandatory] job assignment [25] there upon graduation from the institute.
, Ukraine
Once I came home from kindergarten and asked my mother, 'Who are Jews? Are we worse than the others?' She replied, 'No, we are just like anybody else. There are Russians, Ukrainians, Germans and Jews. You are a Jew and so am I'. This was the first time I questioned my nationality. In 1946 my whole kindergarten group went to the first grade of a Russian school.
I remember our Polish neighbor Stanislava dancing, singing, crying and laughing when Warsaw was liberated. The reaction was kind of the same on Victory Day [22], 9th May 1945. We cried, sang and danced.
I remember our Polish neighbor Stanislava dancing, singing, crying and laughing when Warsaw was liberated. The reaction was kind of the same on Victory Day [22], 9th May 1945. We cried, sang and danced.
, Ukraine
Gustawa Birencwajg
Then the war broke out in 1939 [2]. My daughter was ten years old by then. I came back from a summer holiday [in Kolumna-Las, a town southeast of Lodz], it was in the morning, I heard this commotion in the hallway. I went out and asked about what had happened, 'You don't know anything? There's a war, the men are leaving to save Warsaw.' I stood there for a while, went up to the bed to wake my husband up: 'Dawid, get up, there's a war. People are going to the army.' And he said, 'Stop bugging me.' But I didn't give up and he had to wake up. He got up and said to me, 'Dress the child and let's go.'
So we went, we went outside to the gate. These high galoshes were in fashion then, with a zipper, but it was unbearably hot. So my husband said to me, 'Put on these shoes' [the galoshes]. I left the child with him, I started looking for them, I couldn't find them. As if they'd disappeared off the face of the earth. I went out, I told him I couldn't find them. My husband said, 'So stay, I'll go.' And he went.
He went, I stayed with the child, I didn't have a lot of money. I was lucky not to have gone with him. Because they would have trampled me with the child and we would have been lost. And he went and disappeared without a trace. I had a guilty conscience, I felt guilty that I had woken him up and he went away. I was hoping we'd meet after the war, but it was difficult to think about that. Bombs were flying over our heads. Very low. And you kept hearing about how they'd rape and take you for forced labor. The Germans were cruel. They had no mercy.
So we went, we went outside to the gate. These high galoshes were in fashion then, with a zipper, but it was unbearably hot. So my husband said to me, 'Put on these shoes' [the galoshes]. I left the child with him, I started looking for them, I couldn't find them. As if they'd disappeared off the face of the earth. I went out, I told him I couldn't find them. My husband said, 'So stay, I'll go.' And he went.
He went, I stayed with the child, I didn't have a lot of money. I was lucky not to have gone with him. Because they would have trampled me with the child and we would have been lost. And he went and disappeared without a trace. I had a guilty conscience, I felt guilty that I had woken him up and he went away. I was hoping we'd meet after the war, but it was difficult to think about that. Bombs were flying over our heads. Very low. And you kept hearing about how they'd rape and take you for forced labor. The Germans were cruel. They had no mercy.
,
1939
See text in interview
You couldn't eat bread on Easter at our house. For eight days.
,
Before WW2
See text in interview
There were other holidays, there was Easter [Pesach]. Six weeks before the holiday, you'd buy a goose and make 'szmalec' [lard] for Pesach. But to make this 'szmalec,' you first had to kosher the kitchen. You had to burn the fire in the oven so that everything was red, burned through. And you'd put this 'szmalec' in a special pot, tie it up [the pot with a rag], put it on the cupboard. All those dishes which were not used during the year, just for Easter; otherwise they were stored in the cupboard. From one holiday until the next one. Covered with paper.
There was also this custom, I don't know if it still exists today, that if a pot was damaged you couldn't use it on Easter. There'd be these [people] walking around and shouting: 'soldering, wiring!' - Two men with this huge, metal kettle. If someone didn't have special dishes for the holidays, but used those which were used every day, he'd put them in the water and it was supposed to make it kosher. It was hardest for poor people, because they couldn't afford dishes for Easter and for regular days. So he'd scrub this pot, clean it, go and soak it in the water and then this was kosher.
There was also this custom, I don't know if it still exists today, that if a pot was damaged you couldn't use it on Easter. There'd be these [people] walking around and shouting: 'soldering, wiring!' - Two men with this huge, metal kettle. If someone didn't have special dishes for the holidays, but used those which were used every day, he'd put them in the water and it was supposed to make it kosher. It was hardest for poor people, because they couldn't afford dishes for Easter and for regular days. So he'd scrub this pot, clean it, go and soak it in the water and then this was kosher.
,
Before WW2
See text in interview
Children would dress up for dinner. Two challot covered with a special napkin were put on the table on Friday evening. There was something written in Hebrew there, I don't know what. Father would leave, I don't know where, perhaps he'd go out to pray or just leave. Everything was put smartly on the table, the candles were lit, Mother would pray. I don't know what she said. I think she asked God for her children's health, her husband's health, she asked God for everything.
My father would come back from those prayers in the evening, do some prayer over this challah, uncover it and cut it into pieces for us, children. This was called 'a mojca' [from Yiddish: mojca, a piece of challah]. And afterwards we'd sit down at the table and eat stuffed fish. This doesn't mean that all Jews did that. They usually didn't. Instead of fish, people sometimes had a piece of herring. Those were very poor people, they were living in very harsh conditions, they didn't even know Polish yet; they spoke Polish with a Jewish accent, often confusing some words. When we had that supper, there was always fish and a cup of wine.
After Father said some prayer, each child had a drink from that cup, it was a large cup. And there was broth, with noodles, 'lazanki' [noodles with cabbage], peas, beans, meat and compote. And that was all. And when you had to turn off the light, the caretaker would come [as Sabbath goy]. Because Jews were not allowed to turn off the light [as no work was to be performed on Sabbath]. The caretaker used to come, turn off the lights and get a piece of challah for that. It was considered a very good thing. Because before the war, the caretaker couldn't afford challah. And neither could some Jews.
On Saturdays my father used to take the tallit - it's a kind of prayer shawl and it had this nice velvet bag [a bag for carrying the tallit], the richer you were, the nicer it was. He'd put it on and go pray. Although...did he really pray? As far as I know, he'd rather go to his buddies, play cards or dominos or chess...
For my mother it was important that he left the house. We [the children] were home and mother would make lunch. On Friday you'd take a pot with potatoes to the baker's, it was called chulent. When a Jew was rich, he'd put a large piece of meat in this chulent. And usually at 12 o'clock on Saturdays, the youngest child went to get that chulent, took a rag with him. This chulent was paid for, I don't remember how many groszy, but there was a number stuck to it and I would get this same number on Friday [when the pot was left there]. And on Saturdays you'd pick your pot up, according to that number. But there were sometimes these smart guys, who'd take a rich person's chulent if it was better. And later there'd be no chulent for him, the rich person. So you'd have to contrive something.
In this pot with the chulent, there was also a small pot, like a small flower pot. It was made of clay and there was kugel inside it. This kugel was made from noodles, cooked, some apples would be added, some raisins. And everyone would eat a bit of it on Saturdays, when they were eating this chulent and broth. The kids would get nuts; they were dressed in their best clothes, clean. We'd run out to play in the yard and we'd sometimes make a hole [in the ground] with the heel of the shoe and play with nuts. It was about putting the nut into the hole.
My father would come back from those prayers in the evening, do some prayer over this challah, uncover it and cut it into pieces for us, children. This was called 'a mojca' [from Yiddish: mojca, a piece of challah]. And afterwards we'd sit down at the table and eat stuffed fish. This doesn't mean that all Jews did that. They usually didn't. Instead of fish, people sometimes had a piece of herring. Those were very poor people, they were living in very harsh conditions, they didn't even know Polish yet; they spoke Polish with a Jewish accent, often confusing some words. When we had that supper, there was always fish and a cup of wine.
After Father said some prayer, each child had a drink from that cup, it was a large cup. And there was broth, with noodles, 'lazanki' [noodles with cabbage], peas, beans, meat and compote. And that was all. And when you had to turn off the light, the caretaker would come [as Sabbath goy]. Because Jews were not allowed to turn off the light [as no work was to be performed on Sabbath]. The caretaker used to come, turn off the lights and get a piece of challah for that. It was considered a very good thing. Because before the war, the caretaker couldn't afford challah. And neither could some Jews.
On Saturdays my father used to take the tallit - it's a kind of prayer shawl and it had this nice velvet bag [a bag for carrying the tallit], the richer you were, the nicer it was. He'd put it on and go pray. Although...did he really pray? As far as I know, he'd rather go to his buddies, play cards or dominos or chess...
For my mother it was important that he left the house. We [the children] were home and mother would make lunch. On Friday you'd take a pot with potatoes to the baker's, it was called chulent. When a Jew was rich, he'd put a large piece of meat in this chulent. And usually at 12 o'clock on Saturdays, the youngest child went to get that chulent, took a rag with him. This chulent was paid for, I don't remember how many groszy, but there was a number stuck to it and I would get this same number on Friday [when the pot was left there]. And on Saturdays you'd pick your pot up, according to that number. But there were sometimes these smart guys, who'd take a rich person's chulent if it was better. And later there'd be no chulent for him, the rich person. So you'd have to contrive something.
In this pot with the chulent, there was also a small pot, like a small flower pot. It was made of clay and there was kugel inside it. This kugel was made from noodles, cooked, some apples would be added, some raisins. And everyone would eat a bit of it on Saturdays, when they were eating this chulent and broth. The kids would get nuts; they were dressed in their best clothes, clean. We'd run out to play in the yard and we'd sometimes make a hole [in the ground] with the heel of the shoe and play with nuts. It was about putting the nut into the hole.
,
Before WW2
See text in interview
My husband didn't allow me to respect [Jewish] tradition. Before the war he was in the freethinkers' union. Because tradition is connected to religion, he threw the baby out with the bath water.
,
After WW2
See text in interview