Aunt Mussya worked at the Tashkent Chemical factory where they made soap. There Aunt Mussya was admitted to the Party. As a Party member, she was frequently sent to pick cotton in Bukhara region [today Uzbekistan]. It was always hard to part with her, but what a pleasure it was, when she came back: she brought a lot of food. My aunt was a representative of the Regional Party Committee, and the local authorities gave her food presents: melted butter, cotton-seed oil, and corn meal.
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Displaying 7681 - 7710 of 50826 results
rachel rivkina
The first year in Tashkent I didn't study, I was to either work at a factory or enter a technical school to get a profession. I decided to get advice from Mendel and wrote a letter to him. I received his answer. I still have his letter. In his letter Mendel addressed our parents, 'Don't permit her to start working. The war will end some day. Let Rachel finish school and then enter a college.' And I decided to go on studying at school. I was in the eighth grade.
The local people treated Jews unkindly. The Uzbeks repeated every minute, 'Tashkent is mine, I'm the master.' Before the arrival of evacuees, the Uzbeks, in general, didn't know who Jews were. But in Tashkent there were a lot of Russians, who had been exiled there before the war. It was from the Russians that they learned to offend Jews. They called us 'Jillya': that was 'Zhid' [an offensive way to call a Jew in Russia] in the Uzbek language. In evacuation I improved my Yiddish, because in our presence the Uzbeks spoke only their native language, and Jews, to provoke them, spoke only Yiddish.
I'd like to tell you about the destiny of my brother Haim. His military unit was sent to Western Ukraine or Western Belarus, I don't remember exactly. I remember, that he had mentioned Ossovets Fortress, where they were located. My brother hadn't been attested yet, when the German troops captured that settlement. The commanding officers offered the soldiers to run away. Haim was captured by the fascists. He borrowed the name of his Russian friend Sergey Maslov. He didn't look like a Jew. As a prisoner of war, he was taken to the concentration camp in Buchenwald [16]. Haim said that every year on 12th December, he exchanged his portion of bread for a cigarette. He smoked that cigarette in memory of me. 12th December is my birthday, and that was the way he congratulated me.
Among the Russian prisoners there was a person, a scoundrel, who blackmailed Haim. He used to tell him, 'I know a lot about you.' But none of the prisoners betrayed him. In April 1945 the prisoners were transported from Buchenwald to Dachau [17]. On the way Haim and two of his friends broke off the floor in their car and escaped from the moving train. Later, while roaming around, they ran into a Soviet military unit.
Among the Russian prisoners there was a person, a scoundrel, who blackmailed Haim. He used to tell him, 'I know a lot about you.' But none of the prisoners betrayed him. In April 1945 the prisoners were transported from Buchenwald to Dachau [17]. On the way Haim and two of his friends broke off the floor in their car and escaped from the moving train. Later, while roaming around, they ran into a Soviet military unit.
,
During WW2
See text in interview
During the Holocaust our family lost many relatives. In Khotimsk my father's brother, Moses, perished with his wife. The parents of my father's cousin were lost, and also his cousin. She was married to a Russian. She had a small child, who was brought to Khotimsk during the summer. A Russian woman, a neighbor wanted to save this child, but she was also shot. All the members of my future husband's family were lost: his father, mother and two siblings. They lived in Klimovichi shtetl of Mogilev region [today Belarus]. In Klimovichi there was no ghetto. The fascists separated its Jewish population: men, and women with children, lived separately. Then the men were forced to dig graves. Before the fathers' and brothers' eyes, the women and children were shot, and then the men were shot, too. Gheisha, my mother's brother, was lost in Novozybkov. He was a member of a partisan party.
After the end of the war our family returned to Gomel. The city was in ruins; our house was burned down in 1943.
In 1945, after finishing school I entered the Gomel Pedagogical College. I had already passed the exams in Tashkent, because I was going to enter the Tashkent Pedagogical College. My examination marks were good and were accepted in the Gomel College. Generally speaking, I wanted to enter a medical college, but in Gomel there were no colleges of that kind, and my parents told me that they would never let me go to Minsk alone. I cried for a whole week.
It's necessary to say that after the end of the war in Gomel, there was an anti-Semitic state of public opinion. Gomel was practically burned to ashes during the battles.
In my college there were also many anti-Semites. Many students lived in Gomel during the occupation and absorbed the fascists' anti-Semitic propaganda. In our group, for example, there studied a woman who had worked for the Germans as an interpreter. She was recognized by the mother of a student: when she saw her, she cried broadly in her face, 'You, German freebee!' After that, this former interpreter was expelled from the college.
In 1947 I got acquainted with my future husband, Isaac Samoilovich Ryvkin. He was seven years older than me. He was a professional soldier, technician-lieutenant, and Communist Party member. He joined the Party at the front. He fought at the Leningrad and Moscow fronts. Isaac was awarded a Medal for the Defense of Leningrad, and a Medal for the Defense of Moscow. My husband was religious, but we didn't observe Sabbath. On Jewish holidays he went to the synagogue, but without me.
In 1948 we got married. The wedding ceremony was in accordance to the Jewish tradition, under the chuppah. We did it to meet the wishes of my husband and parents. There was no rabbi at our wedding, the ceremony was conducted by a shochet, and there was no synagogue in Gomel. The wedding ceremony was carried out in our courtyard. The chuppah was made from a canopy and four poles. We signed the ketubbah: a marriage certificate. The ceremony was carried out on a point of order, as my father remembered a lot, and my husband grew up in a religious family. Our Russian neighbors weren't invited to our wedding, only our relatives.
Later in 1948, I arrived in Leningrad. When in 1948 the State of Israel reappeared [20], my husband was 'on cloud nine' with happiness. We lived on Bolshaya Moskovskaya Street, near the Vladimirsky square. We had an eleven meter room in a large communal apartment, where there were nine more rooms. All our neighbors were Russian. We were the only Jews there. Our relations with the neighbors were normal. We had no incidents regarding nationality problems.
I continued my studies via correspondence in the Gomel Pedagogical College. I graduated from it in August 1950, and in November of that year my son Mark was born. According to my husband's wish our son was circumcised, but it didn't take place in our apartment. By the way, one of the participants of the circumcision ceremony denounced to security services. This man, also a Jew, worked for my husband as his assistant. At that time my husband worked as a workshop manager at Primorsky industrial complex.
In 1951 he was arrested by the KGB [21]. KGB trumped up great cases apparently connected with 'Zionistic plots,' taking into account the increasing anti-Semitism level of state authorities. Large amounts of people, about thirty, were arrested, and all of them were Jews. After my husband was released, he never talked to me about the reasons of his arrest.
Both my brothers and Aunt Mussya didn't believe that Isaac was guilty. He had served in the army for seven years. The KGB workers had left their telephone number, so that I could call them. I called, and by the appointed time two KGB workers appeared, opened our apartment and asked, 'Where does your husband keep his weapons?' I answered, 'Earlier my husband was a military man, and now he is a civilian and has no weapons.'
They said that during their previous search they found Isaac's hunter's certificate. I answered that my husband was a hunter, but he didn't have a weapon. All his things were confiscated; they also took away the ketubbah, our marriage certificate, and the documents in regard to my son's circumcision. My things and documents weren't touched.
For a long time they didn't accept any parcels for my husband. When I asked for a reason, a KGB worker answered, 'Your husband doesn't co-operate during interrogations.' My husband was sentenced to ten years of labor in Vorkuta by the famous 'Court of Three' [Editors note: in Russian 'Troyka' - it was a special commission, which substituted normal courts. Troykas were empowered to pass sentences according to their personal opinions] in 1951.
Before he was deported, I unexpectedly got permission to meet him. I took a parcel to the notorious prison 'Kresty,' and there they suddenly informed me about the meeting with my husband. I was taken aback: I was alone, without Mark. He was at a dacha [23] in the suburb of Leningrad; I wanted to show Isaac our son. But I was told, that probably at night many prisoners would be sent out and possibly it was my last chance to see my husband. Certainly, I went there to meet him.
Our meeting reminded me of an episode from 'Voskressenie' [1899, Resurrection] by Tolstoy [24]: two prison-bars, on one side were prisoners, and on the other were their relatives, and there were jailers walking between us. My husband's hair had been shaved off. He immediately asked me, 'Where is our son?' I asked him, how many years he had to stay imprisoned. He answered, 'Ten.' At that moment I felt sick, and he said, 'Don't be afraid dear, this is the shortest term they could give.' Our meeting lasted ten minutes. His last words were, 'Everything will be fine, take care of our son.' So I left, keeping his words with me. Later, I started to make complaints and took forward petitions about a second hearing of the case. My husband's brother was a lawyer. It was he who advised me to write letters to the Supreme Court and General Office of the Public Prosecutor.
They said that during their previous search they found Isaac's hunter's certificate. I answered that my husband was a hunter, but he didn't have a weapon. All his things were confiscated; they also took away the ketubbah, our marriage certificate, and the documents in regard to my son's circumcision. My things and documents weren't touched.
For a long time they didn't accept any parcels for my husband. When I asked for a reason, a KGB worker answered, 'Your husband doesn't co-operate during interrogations.' My husband was sentenced to ten years of labor in Vorkuta by the famous 'Court of Three' [Editors note: in Russian 'Troyka' - it was a special commission, which substituted normal courts. Troykas were empowered to pass sentences according to their personal opinions] in 1951.
Before he was deported, I unexpectedly got permission to meet him. I took a parcel to the notorious prison 'Kresty,' and there they suddenly informed me about the meeting with my husband. I was taken aback: I was alone, without Mark. He was at a dacha [23] in the suburb of Leningrad; I wanted to show Isaac our son. But I was told, that probably at night many prisoners would be sent out and possibly it was my last chance to see my husband. Certainly, I went there to meet him.
Our meeting reminded me of an episode from 'Voskressenie' [1899, Resurrection] by Tolstoy [24]: two prison-bars, on one side were prisoners, and on the other were their relatives, and there were jailers walking between us. My husband's hair had been shaved off. He immediately asked me, 'Where is our son?' I asked him, how many years he had to stay imprisoned. He answered, 'Ten.' At that moment I felt sick, and he said, 'Don't be afraid dear, this is the shortest term they could give.' Our meeting lasted ten minutes. His last words were, 'Everything will be fine, take care of our son.' So I left, keeping his words with me. Later, I started to make complaints and took forward petitions about a second hearing of the case. My husband's brother was a lawyer. It was he who advised me to write letters to the Supreme Court and General Office of the Public Prosecutor.
The Doctors' Plot [25] occurred when I was in Gomel. It was terrifying to see these sinister articles in the newspapers, feuilletons with anti- Semitic cartoons. But in Gomel there were no pogroms.
I will never forget the day of Stalin's death: 5th March 1953. At that time I lived in Gomel, I understood nothing and took his death as a terrible misfortune for the whole country, and for me personally. Gomel was full of black flags. I also cut my black skirt to make a flag. I wrote to my husband, who was in his camp, describing the country in sorrow. After his return he said, 'I was ashamed to read your letter.
In contrast to me, my father seemed to understand a lot more. I remember an episode which took place during the Doctors' Plot. My father usually prayed in his bedroom, but that day he went out to the dining-room in his tallit and said in Yiddish, 'They attacked Jews, but they won't get away with it.' In Yiddish, country means 'melukhe.' And my father repeated with bitterness again and again, 'Such a melukhe!' Mark was a little boy and he asked me, 'Mum, what is grandfather talking about? Who is 'melukhe'?' And I answered, 'She's a bad woman.
My paternal grandfather's name was Nachman-Ishe Rivkin. He earned his living by repairing ironware in the shtetl.
Our meeting happened in that room with a guard keeping watch over us. My husband embraced me and our child. I opened my suitcase, and started to take out food. Suddenly an officer entered the room, 'The bus leaves in half an hour, and there will be no more transport today. You have to go now.' I was dumbfounded, 'I have permission to spend two hours with my husband, I have just arrived, and we haven't even talked to each other.' He answered, 'The warden has permitted you to visit your husband tomorrow.'
It was hard to talk in the presence of a guard watching us. I spoke mainly about our relatives, their health status, because during the period of my husband's absence, my father had an insult to the brain. And the officer hurried me up, 'Faster, faster, or you will miss the bus!' I left and got onto the bus.
It was hard to talk in the presence of a guard watching us. I spoke mainly about our relatives, their health status, because during the period of my husband's absence, my father had an insult to the brain. And the officer hurried me up, 'Faster, faster, or you will miss the bus!' I left and got onto the bus.
As my husband was a Jew, it was especially dangerous for him, because in the mine there were a lot of Ukrainian Bandera band members and also German prisoners of war. One day a Bandera band member called him 'Zhid.' My husband immediately struck him on his head with a miner's lamp. Later, the Bandera band members laughed at their fellow worker, 'Zhid struck you on your head!
Immediately after rehabilitation, Isaac received a room in a new house on Aviatsionnaya Street. So our family's life began again. It was very difficult to get a job. He managed to find one in a purchase department of a military unit in Leningrad.
I went to work in a polyclinic as a registering clerk with the salary of 37 rubles per month, because the Regional Education Department refused to place me in a job of a teacher. They also refused to employ me as a school librarian. I worked there for a year and a half. Later, using my personal connections, I found a vacancy in a department of Glavleningradstroy, a Leningrad Building Organization. In this department there worked both Russians and Jews. All of them were very nice to me. Later, I bettered myself and started working as an engineer-economist.
I went to work in a polyclinic as a registering clerk with the salary of 37 rubles per month, because the Regional Education Department refused to place me in a job of a teacher. They also refused to employ me as a school librarian. I worked there for a year and a half. Later, using my personal connections, I found a vacancy in a department of Glavleningradstroy, a Leningrad Building Organization. In this department there worked both Russians and Jews. All of them were very nice to me. Later, I bettered myself and started working as an engineer-economist.
After my husband's return from the labor camp, he never joined the Party. In general, his camp experience taught him not to get involved in any political activities.
When in the USSR Jews started to leave for their historical native land, I understood quite well that if our family left for Israel, it would interfere with the interests of my brothers and their families. That is why I didn't want to leave, and my husband understood. All his relatives had left.
Our son was growing up, he knew little about Jewish life, but he saw his grandfather praying and putting on a tefillin and tallit. My husband also had a tallit. At home we had a siddur. In Gomel my son never came across any anti-Semitism. As far as Leningrad is concerned, I don't know as he never complained. My grandfather was pretty tactful regarding religion: he always prayed in a separate room. At the mathematical school where Mark studied, there were many Jewish children and among the teachers there were Jews. So during his studies he didn't face any anti-Semitism.
Now Mark is interested in Jewry more, than he was when he was younger. Earlier he never spoke Yiddish, and now he tries to. Since he was six years old, he visited Gomel in summer time, and my parents spoke only Yiddish, and so he remembered some words. He doesn't visit the synagogue.
At present my granddaughter is very interested in Jewish life. In general she is more interested in Jews than Russians. When she watches television or reads newspapers, she frequently asks us, 'Is this person a Jew? Is it a Jewish surname?' After my husband's death in 1990, I visited the synagogue several times and took my granddaughter with me. I don't know how to pray. Ira was in the synagogue with me during Rosh Hashanah.
My husband was buried according to the Jewish rites. A coffin with his body was brought to the synagogue. At the Jewish cemetery the minyan was headed by Rabbi Levitis. I remember that the rabbi didn't speak Yiddish, only Russian.
Only I and my son's family stay in Russia. I receive assistance from the Hesed [30] Avraham Jewish Welfare Center. They give me medicines; and the EVA organization brings me food packages every month, because my pension is small.
My father was born in 1887 in Khotimsk, his name was Boruch-Afroim Rivkin, and Russians called him Borukh Nakhmanovich. He studied in a cheder.