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One day my mother's sister, Aunt Erna, sent her Catholic Croatian servant from Mostar up to Sarajevo to bring me to Mostar ,where she and her
husband lived. We travelled by train, and since I was so small, no one
asked any questions. A week later my aunt sent a taxi to
Sarajevo to pick up my mother and sister and bring them, too. Of
course, she had to pay for these interventions. My aunt and uncle did a
great mitzvah during the war. They saved and helped many Jews, and at one
point there must have been twenty of us living with them. That is how we
came to Mostar, which was a relatively livable town under Italian control.
The Italians were entirely different from the Ustashe, and their treatment
of the Jews was much better and more humane. We had freedom to move around,
and we did not have to wear the yellow Z.
My uncle, David Kohen, Erna’s husband, was a religious man. Every Shabbat he read something but I do not remember what. Ironically, I had religious lessons during the war. While we lived there my uncle sent my sister, our cousins and me for private religious lessons with the rabbi two or three times a week, where we learned Hebrew, and about the holidays and history.
We lived with Aunt Erna and Uncle David for a year and a half until the idiotic evil Ustashe bandits took over from the Italians in September 1943. Since we knew what it meant to live under Ustashe control, we knew it was time to run. My father was from Pristina and since that region was still under Italian control my mother decided that should be our next destination. Aunt Erna and Aunt Blanka went to an Italian camp where they were treated correctly and eventually joined the partisans. Uncle David stayed behind, and he was killed in Mostar.
My uncle, David Kohen, Erna’s husband, was a religious man. Every Shabbat he read something but I do not remember what. Ironically, I had religious lessons during the war. While we lived there my uncle sent my sister, our cousins and me for private religious lessons with the rabbi two or three times a week, where we learned Hebrew, and about the holidays and history.
We lived with Aunt Erna and Uncle David for a year and a half until the idiotic evil Ustashe bandits took over from the Italians in September 1943. Since we knew what it meant to live under Ustashe control, we knew it was time to run. My father was from Pristina and since that region was still under Italian control my mother decided that should be our next destination. Aunt Erna and Aunt Blanka went to an Italian camp where they were treated correctly and eventually joined the partisans. Uncle David stayed behind, and he was killed in Mostar.
Period
Year
1943
Location
Serbia
Interview
Josef Baruhovic