The red borscht was prepared from beat and borscht made from husks, which we bought. It is called barrel borscht. You slice the beat, boil it, added a lot of vegetables, parsley, dill, carrots, you name it. And then you took all of them out, and you scalded it with this borscht, which has a greenish color. I never prepared it myself. My mother prepared it for me, then someone else prepared it for me. They still serve it to us every year at the Community. But only on one evening, that is all. They see to it that they serve it on a Sunday, so that those who have to work be able to come.
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Rifca Segal
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In Botosani, God spared us the joy of having a sukkah. One thing less to worry about.
Simchat Torah comes after Sukkot. It means the joy of the Torah, which means that you celebrate the Torah. It is a very beautiful holiday. Each synagogue had a member who was the most well-seen of all, the richest, and in Sulita, my father was the front-ranking one, the most reliable member – it was called gaba [gabe, gabbai]. And there were 2 synagogues in Sulita – they were competing with each other. And I always remember this: the members of the synagogue and children came to our door with little Zion flags – with magen David –, and an apple stuck on top of the flag, and with lit candles; they sang songs that are sung on Simchat Torah, and they invited the front-ranking member of the community to the synagogue. And then they went to the synagogue, they recited the prayer that needs to be recited every evening, but especially on that occasion they take out the Holy Scrolls, and they give the believers – the men – turn by turn a Holy Scroll, which is to say the Torah, and they walk – the rabbis wearing sideburns and beards dance – around the altar [Mrs. Segal is referring here to the bimah] and they sing. And when I was a child I used to walk around it myself next to my father, and I used to sing, as well. Father was holding the Torah, and I held father by the coat, by the hand. Oh my, it was such a joy…
Sukkot comes after Yom Kippur. We built a sukkah on Sukkot in Sulita. The sukkah was built in the courtyard, everything – the roof as well – was made from reed, it was adorned with rugs and furnished with tables, chairs. It had 3 sides and another one, the one through which you entered, was open. You placed inside the sukkah the nicest things you had in the house. You placed on the walls and ceiling the nicest rugs you had. And you adorned it with all the fruit you had and could buy: with walnuts, apples, pears, grapes. That symbolizes the harvest. You hung fruit on the ceiling and walls. It was very beautiful. The Jews who are very religious sleep there, but my parents didn’t. Nor did my grandmother. You ate for 8 days inside the sukkah, as long as the holiday lasted, even if it rained, it was built with that in mind as well. We served all three meals inside the sukkah. Both breakfast, and lunch, and dinner. The food wasn’t special on this occasion. But we recited a prayer at every meal: the prayer for the bread, for the wine, for the food. There is also a separate ritual, involving the esrig [etrog in Hebrew]. The esrig is an exotic fruit, like a lemon – the exact colour of a lemon, even the size of a lemon –, and it has a leaf growing upwards. And it had to be pointed, for you couldn’t use it if it weren’t pointed. They sent us esrig fruit from Israel [Palestine] before World War II as well. You hold the esrig in your hand, and you recite a prayer, you bless the harvest. There were also some leaves beside it, which looked like corn stalks, which are part of the esrig. When this fruit grows, it has its own leaves, and they look like corn stalks, and you had to hold these leaves in your hand together with the fruit. Throughout the Sukkot, father recited the esrig prayer every day before the meals. This was traditional in Sulita.
We, the children, didn’t fast on Yom Kippur. They didn’t even recommend that children should fast. I believe I started fasting ever since I became more aware of myself, when I was 7-8. And I’ve observed the fasts every year since then.
Romania
After the New Year, before the Great Day, which is called Yom Kippur – the Day of forgiving –, people go to a course of water. In Sulita, we went to the lake after the meal, to the Dracsani lake. But I never did this here in Botosani. You go there, and you turn your pockets inside out, and you shake yourself free of all sins. Also, at the synagogue, you pound yourself with your fist on the wall, and say: “Al het hudusi” – “hatati” in this modern language, but I knew the “hudusi” variant, and you ask God to forgive you for the mistakes you committed. On the second day after the New Year, which is to say a day before Yom Kippur, you take a fowl – a rooster in the case of men, a hen in the case of women, and in the case of children it depends, either a rooster or a hen –, you spin it above your head, and you say: “Zot – it is zot in Ivrit, but it is zois in Hebrew – capurusi, zot halifusi...” I know the whole prayer. “This is the human being that dies instead of me, passes away instead of me.” For God writes your name in the book on New Year’s Eve, and on Yom Kippur, on the 10th day he announces the verdict, whether or not you will live. You spin while holding this hen… The Jewish name for it is kapores, but it is called kaparot in Ivrit. I never liked it. I wasn’t afraid, but I felt ill at ease. The whole family did this, turn by turn – we, the children, as well. They used to buy a chicken for me and a small rooster for my brother – they bought young chicken for the children. And all these were slaughtered at the hakham, and were eaten at the family table. We observed this tradition in Botosani as well, but ever since there is no hakham, you couldn’t do this anymore. We gave them to charity after that. For giving a poor man some money is the same thing. Not to the effect that – God forbid –, the poor man should die instead of you, but you give something to charity.
Do you know how developed the industry was here in Botosani? Well… Textiles, electric appliances, nuts and bolts… And nowadays I think only a ready-made clothes industry remains. But everything is upside-down nowadays. It is revolting for me, the fact that there are no handicraftsmen nowadays. There were shoemakers, tailors, carpenters, tinkers… there were all sorts. But why have they shut down all these things? When I see we import this from here, that from there, it is revolting for me, I can’t conceive it. They make us export our best products and, on the other hand, import and pay higher prices. That isn’t how an economy is run. Who could run things? I’m not afraid to say it. There is no one who can run things.
When the revolution [18] broke out, people from the Textile Factories gathered in the street, but there were no victims.
In 1988 – my husband was no longer alive – I went there with my friend. And we went to the market in Tel Aviv, it is called “suc,” and we bought a branch full of bananas. And they also gave you a bag, so that you didn’t throw the peel on the ground, and we walked in the street like that and ate bananas. I had cravings. It’s not like you could buy bananas in Romania in 1988. You could only buy them under the counter. And we said: “You see, here you can eat as much as you want even if you have no money. And when we return to Romania and if we have money, there are no bananas you can buy.” Well, now you can buy them at every street corner, but you couldn’t before 1989.
But I got along so well with the nun… She is a gorgeous woman. She said she had a rented place in Jericho, that I should go and stay with her in Jericho – the first city of the world, they say. I said: “Sure thing, why not?” When I saw Palestinians in the street I said: “I’m not staying here, I’m not staying here.” “Stay, for they don’t know… [that you are Jewish.] Say that your name is Maria. Must you say that your name is Rica Segal?” The nun was an intelligent, refined woman. I was sitting with her on the porch one day, and I see a black man there in the courtyard, a Palestinian. I said: “This one knows I’m here, that I’m a Jewish woman from Romania. Somebody denounced you.” “Hold on, he’s the man who reads the water meters.” They have water meters on the smallest of streets over there. Civilized people. And she took me to see the Jericho Mountains, and there are some grottos over there, and tourists go inside them. I said: “I won’t go in, even if you kill me.” And I was torn to pieces: “I want to go back to Jerusalem, I want to go back there. I’m afraid in Jericho.” For there are many Palestinians living in Jericho. The city was still under the rule of Israel, but it isn’t anymore. And a woman from Jericho had to go to Jerusalem with her sick child. They were Palestinians. And they didn’t allow her to enter Jerusalem, she didn’t have a valid passport. And the nun knew this, but she didn’t tell me about it. She took a taxi, this nun, and she took that woman to Jerusalem. There were some tunnels that people used to enter Jerusalem. And the taxi driver drove through there. When I saw I was entering a tunnel, and when I looked out of the window, I saw a precipice in front of the car’s headlights… I didn’t say a word, I sat there tensed, and when we exited the tunnel, I said: “Mother, and I trusted you…” But when she told me what it was all about, that the child was sick and they couldn’t treat him in Jericho, I was somewhat appeased. But we could have fallen in that precipice, nobody knew how to find us. The taxi driver was Palestinian, too, and he knew the road with his eyes closed. But had I known [the road where he was taking us], I wouldn’t have left with them. I would have taken the bus, for there was a bus connection, and I would have left by myself. I tell you this so that I can relate you an incident as you see only in movies.
But I liked in Jerusalem the neighborhood where they built houses on different levels. Its elegance is something else… with black, red, white marble, some extraordinary buildings. They built some buildings just as they did in the middle of New York, to hide the city of New York, or in Paris – I’m not talking about those classic buildings, the Elise Palace, or something like that. For instance, I liked Nathania more than Jerusalem, except for this neighborhood, which is something from a fairy tale.
I stayed at the orthodox monastery in Jerusalem for 10 days. It is a Romanian monastery, only for Romanian nuns. A certain Mandita Vamanu lives in my block of flats on the 3rd floor, and she has a sister who is a nun there, mother Nicodina. And we contacted her, her sister had told her on the telephone that I was coming, and that nun took me to see all the historical sites. It is very interesting to see everything there is to see. I liked all the historical objectives I visited. I visited various churches, monuments. Masterpieces. I went to the Wailing Wall, I left notes there. And I stayed in Jerusalem, for I wanted to see Jerusalem, visit the downtown area as well. As for those tall buildings, with 32, 42 floors, they are made of glass and concrete. And colorful, and with something to bewitch you.
I stayed at the orthodox monastery in Jerusalem for 10 days. It is a Romanian monastery, only for Romanian nuns. A certain Mandita Vamanu lives in my block of flats on the 3rd floor, and she has a sister who is a nun there, mother Nicodina. And we contacted her, her sister had told her on the telephone that I was coming, and that nun took me to see all the historical sites. It is very interesting to see everything there is to see. I liked all the historical objectives I visited. I visited various churches, monuments. Masterpieces. I went to the Wailing Wall, I left notes there. And I stayed in Jerusalem, for I wanted to see Jerusalem, visit the downtown area as well. As for those tall buildings, with 32, 42 floors, they are made of glass and concrete. And colorful, and with something to bewitch you.
I went to Israel for 4 times: I first traveled there in 1977, then in 1988, in 1993, and then in November 1999 – February 1, 2000. On every occasion, I stayed there for 3 months. Only the first time, when I went there with my husband – I was employed, he was employed – we applied for a 30-day visa, but we stayed there for 40 days.
,
After WW2
See text in interview
I never wanted to stay there for good. I enjoyed my life over here. I had Romanian friends, Christian friends… my colleagues were very nice, I still have Christian friends, and no Easter or Christmas goes by without them inviting me to come.
I liked many things in Israel. Yet there was one thing I didn’t like, that there were soldiers on guard everywhere I traveled. When I went to Jerusalem to see the tomb of Jesus, it was guarded. If we went to a cinema, they searched us from head to toe. We were afraid everywhere we traveled, lest there should be a suicidal bombing. I said: “Is this what I should come here for? I have such a good life in Romania. I don’t belong here.” And a freak coincidence happened on our visit in 1977, for my uncle Heinic was traveling to Israel as well, he was in Jerusalem, and I went to see him. And they said: “Rica, stay here with your husband. Look, I will give you money, you can open an accounting practice. I can’t promise you anything for your husband, I can’t promise him a teaching position, for it is more difficult. But he knows Ivrit, and here all the Jews who came from Romania want to learn Ivrit, he will teach private lessons.” And I said: “Not for the world. It is beautiful here, but I can’t live with this fear.” All the more so since my mother and brother had stayed over here, in Romania.
I liked many things in Israel. Yet there was one thing I didn’t like, that there were soldiers on guard everywhere I traveled. When I went to Jerusalem to see the tomb of Jesus, it was guarded. If we went to a cinema, they searched us from head to toe. We were afraid everywhere we traveled, lest there should be a suicidal bombing. I said: “Is this what I should come here for? I have such a good life in Romania. I don’t belong here.” And a freak coincidence happened on our visit in 1977, for my uncle Heinic was traveling to Israel as well, he was in Jerusalem, and I went to see him. And they said: “Rica, stay here with your husband. Look, I will give you money, you can open an accounting practice. I can’t promise you anything for your husband, I can’t promise him a teaching position, for it is more difficult. But he knows Ivrit, and here all the Jews who came from Romania want to learn Ivrit, he will teach private lessons.” And I said: “Not for the world. It is beautiful here, but I can’t live with this fear.” All the more so since my mother and brother had stayed over here, in Romania.
In 1977 I wanted to go to Israel myself. My husband was more fearful than me: “What if the Securitate calls us for an inquiry?” I said: “If they call us, fine, let them take away our jobs.” I was a chief accountant, I would have been the one they would have demoted. And even if they fired me, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. I was an accountant. But they would have kicked him out of the educational system for good. And one day I got mad, I didn’t go home after work, I went to the Public Garden, which is very beautiful. My husband phoned at my workplace, he phoned my friends, I was nowhere to be found. He suspected something, and he came to look for me in the garden. And he saw me, he came and sat beside me. I didn’t want to talk to him. But we didn’t have arguments. I can say it actually was an ideal marriage. And he said: “Tomorrow we go and we draw the paperwork to be granted permission to go to Israel.” And then I said: “We had to get to this point, me not returning home from work?” “Fine. What if the Securitate calls us in for an inquiry?” We were lucky, I believe it was a once-in-10-million chance. They didn’t call us in before we left, nor after we returned. It was enough for them to call you there and ask you: “Whom did you meet there? What did you talk about?” For it was a matter of state treason. We had such a blind luck. They probably gathered information about us, they knew what sort of people we were. We were both fearful by nature. Oh my, had they called us in, I think I would have gone insane. They didn’t call us in, neither me, nor my husband.
We stayed there for a month. But a nephew of mine – the son of Itic, my husband’s brother – was getting married 10 days after our residence permit expired. And you could ask to prolong it. My husband and I: “Oh my, they will say we defected, that we aren’t coming back. My mother is there.” My mother was still alive. “The Securitate will call her in for an interrogation. They will torture her.” My husband: “No, we’re not staying for the wedding.” It was his nephew. I said: “I want to stay for the wedding. What is 10 more days…” And that’s when I telephoned my director, and told him: “File a request in my name, to prolong our residence permit, a leave of absence without pay for 10 days.” And he filed the request. When I returned, the Securitate didn’t call us in, or anything like that. But my director told me: “Why did you telephone me? They called me in, they asked me what you told me.” And we had made a mistake, for we had greatly wronged him. For they [the Securitate] intercepted everything that came from abroad. And they thought we were communicating using I don’t know what code. Oh dear, how it was in those days!
We stayed there for a month. But a nephew of mine – the son of Itic, my husband’s brother – was getting married 10 days after our residence permit expired. And you could ask to prolong it. My husband and I: “Oh my, they will say we defected, that we aren’t coming back. My mother is there.” My mother was still alive. “The Securitate will call her in for an interrogation. They will torture her.” My husband: “No, we’re not staying for the wedding.” It was his nephew. I said: “I want to stay for the wedding. What is 10 more days…” And that’s when I telephoned my director, and told him: “File a request in my name, to prolong our residence permit, a leave of absence without pay for 10 days.” And he filed the request. When I returned, the Securitate didn’t call us in, or anything like that. But my director told me: “Why did you telephone me? They called me in, they asked me what you told me.” And we had made a mistake, for we had greatly wronged him. For they [the Securitate] intercepted everything that came from abroad. And they thought we were communicating using I don’t know what code. Oh dear, how it was in those days!
One of the 2 sons of Branica and Heinic - the older one, Froim – returned from Venezuela. He came to see his mother’s grave. That was in 1966. Where could he stay? [17] We were afraid because of the Securitate – for he was a foreign citizen. I wouldn’t have him stay in my house for the world, my aunt was scared, my parents were scared. Anyway, he stayed at my parents’. But he saw we were all afraid to have him stay over. I think it was my mother who went with him to the cemetery to show him where his mother’s grave was, and he stayed for 2 or 3 days and he left. He could see that everyone was afraid to have him around. He came to see his mother’s grave and we were afraid to have him come over. It was as if the devil himself had come over. And we loved him so… You tell me, was that fair? Those were the times.
You can’t even imagine how it was in the days of the Securitate [15]. You were afraid of opening your mouth to talk. If you listened to Free Europe [16] on the radio, you piled pillows on top of the telephone so that they couldn’t listen in by any chance. People were terrified, no doubt about it. Even if you had no stain on your personal record, nothing at all, you were afraid. I am still afraid to this day, when I watch a movie on TV and if it involves guns and shooting or I don’t know what, I look away. I am easily scared by nature.
And I was a chief accountant, I entered the financial world, I became acquainted with everybody, my husband worked at school. After he left the educational system – previously, he was afraid to do so, for they would have kicked him out of the teaching profession – he was an active member at the Jewish Community in Botosani. He was in charge of the talmud torah, the teaching of Hebrew, the teaching of Jewish history, he checked the children – he knew Ivrit better than me, he also went to the yeshivah. There was a certain Stechelberg, who taught the talmud torah, and my husband guided him, for that man wasn’t a teacher of Ivrit. But my husband wasn’t in charge of the synagogue. He didn’t go to the synagogue. He was a religious man by nature, but he couldn’t show it, for he was afraid to do so. He didn’t go to the synagogue, but he helped out at the Community. As he didn’t get to go to the synagogue from the very beginning, he didn’t go there after he retired, either. But he performed the prayers at home every day, in the morning and in the evening. And my father, poor thing, performed the prayer at home as well, for he was afraid, too. It was very strict. On Passover, for instance, my husband – all class masters, not only him – had to accompany his class at a pupils’ ball, so that he couldn’t go to the Resurrection ceremony.
Since I wanted to have a leading position, and I wanted to be in charge, to have a high salary, they made me join the [Communist] party as a mandatory condition. And my father said he would cut off my legs, poor soul. He couldn’t conceive it, try as he might. I told him: “Father, what would you have me do, work as a mere accountant until the day I die? Look here, I can get a promotion…” “No, and no, and no.” But I didn’t listen to anybody, and I did what I pleased, and I hope I made it to the top of the pyramid. It’s not as if I became the Finance Minister or anything like that.
Then I was transferred to the ready-made clothes factory, where I was an accountant at first and then I was in charge of cost price and financial planning. And that’s when I started to evolve. And I started to enjoy it. There was the Commercial Department, and there were resort industries, which were independent yet coordinated by the Commercial Department. And I was in charge of Industrial Mechandise, someone else was in charge of Alimentara, someone else at LPFST [Local Public Food Supply Trust]. And I worked as a chief accountant for 25 years in the field of trade.
I started working in 1947 and I worked until 1986. At first, I worked at a home for children, it was called Andrei Bernat, it belonged to a Jewish organization, as it was subsidized by Joint – I was hired as assistant accountant, for I had no studies – but they weren’t required back then, they required you to know your job. I worked there until 1950.
For instance, as I was very much absorbed by my job, we ate at our parents’ at first. They didn’t live far from us, and my husband and I went there to eat, so that there were no dishes to wash, either. And since my parents had a very hard life, we contributed a sum of money, and we didn’t calculate the expenses, we all ate together. After my mother died, we had a cook, my husband didn’t let me cook. After the cook died, we had another cook. She came by my place once a week. And I told her what to buy and what to prepare, and what my husband liked to eat… She cooked enough food to last us almost an entire week. For we also ate polenta with sour cream and cottage cheese, if we ran out of cooked food, potatoes with a side dish, we also went to a restaurant when we had the time, for we both earned well.
But my husband, God rest his soul, wouldn’t let me work. We had hired a woman who cleaned the house for me. This is what he told me: “None of this concerns you. Your only concern is that you shouldn’t work.” But I worked very much. He wanted me to stay at home, for he said he could teach a double norm, he could teach pupils in private, and he didn’t need my money. But did I give up my job? God forbid! How much retirement money would I get now, had I stayed at home? I would have had half of his retirement pension.
Even if I had a French teacher in high school, Charlotte Sibi, who was Romanian, but talked to us only in French. She didn’t speak Romanian at all.
Romania
In time, my husband and I started earning more money, I was head of the cost price and financial planning department – I had a higher salary –, my husband was teaching a double norm, it was allowed back then, he also taught pupils in private, and we rose financially.
I observe very strictly the cult of the dead. I go to the cemetery very often.
I never lit candles on Friday evening, even if I had candlesticks. You have to light candles after you get married, not before that. And I regret that very much, I regret it profoundly, I regret I didn’t light candles as long as my husband was alive – I have no interest in the period that came after that.
Ever since I started teaching children, so after 1991, I have been going to the synagogue on Simchat Torah, and I was going there with the children. For there was a choir, and a choir conductor as well, and they sang in the choir. But now they no longer sing at the synagogue here in Botosani – the people are old. On Pesach: that’s the only time when I go to the community’s canteen.
I don’t go to the synagogue on Yom Kippur. I’m not an atheist. I’m not a religious person, either, but I fast on Yom Kippur and on this day. It’s the least I can do. I observe the fast fully, I don’t even drink water, I only take my medicine without any water.
What traditions do I still observe now? For instance, I don’t sew, wash or perform any kind of work on the Sabbath, I don’t clip my fingernails. You aren’t allowed to bathe, either, but I do, I don’t observe that part. And I don’t do these things on all other holidays. Even if the washing machine washes, I don’t. As for ironing clothes, I don’t do it during the rest of the year, either, I got used to the way they do it in Israel: they don’t iron clothes. If you really want to observe tradition to the letter, you aren’t even allowed to write. For instance, you aren’t allowed to eat salami or poultry that wasn’t sacrificed by the hakham. But what can you do? I eat them, on holidays as well.
From 1991 until 2001 I taught Hebrew and talmud torah classes for children at the Community. There was a man named Stechelberg who taught there before me, he left to Israel, I knew Ivrit, there was nobody else, and they asked me to do it. I was no teacher, but I liked it. They sent me punctuation books from Israel – for you must teach children the punctuation at first. There were 18 pupils in the beginning, then there were 12, 10, 9, 8, and in the end there were 4 of them left. I don’t teach anymore, for there is no one to teach to, there are 2-3 children.