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By the way, an important detail is that thanks to a colleague of my father’s from the university in Bucharest, who was Bulgarian, my father received a copy of his degree. When my father told him what had happened at the border checkpoint in Svilengrad, he said, ‘Don’t worry! Come and see me at the bureau, you’ll write it and I’ll sign it.’ The truth is that thanks to these Bulgarians we survived in the period 1939-1944. In 1942 during the Law for the Protection of the Nation [12] we were interned from Sofia to Pazardzhik and I had to prepare my documents to continue my education in the Jewish school there. But I had no such documents. Fortunately, three good neighbors of ours signed a document saying that they knew our family and I was ‘really born.’ In this way I received a ‘neighborhood certificate,’ which I still use.
I also remember something else. On the border checkpoint in Svilengrad the officer who checked the passports asked my father where we were coming from and where we were going. My father said enthusiastically that we were returning to our motherland. Then the officer said flatly, ‘You, Jews, have no motherland.’ My father’s face lost color. ‘I’m sorry, but I fought eight years for this country!’ he said. The officer said nothing, just stamped the passport and threw it into my father’s hands. That’s the welcome to Bulgaria that I remember.
From that moment on my father knew what to expect. He was very intuitive. He sat calmly in the compartment. The train had already set off. He was watching the Bulgarian scenery and he was gradually becoming his old self: kind, a little thoughtful, with a great sense of humor and always with a biblical or another quotation at hand. He was silent for a while and then said, ‘God is great! All that is done by the Heavens is for our good!’ And he was right. After all, we stayed alive.
I also remember something else. On the border checkpoint in Svilengrad the officer who checked the passports asked my father where we were coming from and where we were going. My father said enthusiastically that we were returning to our motherland. Then the officer said flatly, ‘You, Jews, have no motherland.’ My father’s face lost color. ‘I’m sorry, but I fought eight years for this country!’ he said. The officer said nothing, just stamped the passport and threw it into my father’s hands. That’s the welcome to Bulgaria that I remember.
From that moment on my father knew what to expect. He was very intuitive. He sat calmly in the compartment. The train had already set off. He was watching the Bulgarian scenery and he was gradually becoming his old self: kind, a little thoughtful, with a great sense of humor and always with a biblical or another quotation at hand. He was silent for a while and then said, ‘God is great! All that is done by the Heavens is for our good!’ And he was right. After all, we stayed alive.
Location
Bulgaria
Interview
Jul Efraim Levi