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The Jewish synagogue was also in that neighborhood: it was small and had a small yard. There was a canteen there, where we went to get food: mostly beans without any meat. The beans were just boiled. We went there and took food for six people. It was free of charge. The Jewish municipality didn’t have money for anything else. I remember a story, both sad and hilarious. There was an old man, who had a great sense of humor and he would always happen to be in front of us in the queue. When he would come out, everyone asked him what the food was this time. And the old man would answer seriously, ‘Kaldiko di poyu,’ which means chicken soup [Ladino]. And we all laughed and knew that meant beans again. But the man cheered us up a bit.
Then we ran out of money. We didn’t receive rations, everything was rationed then, and we had no more money. That happened in fall 1943. My sister Raina, who was a hairdresser, found a job at a salon. It was on a street on the border between the ghetto and the rest of the city. The border passed along the middle of the street, and the salon was on the other side: outside the ghetto. But she took the risk, because if you were caught, you could be arrested as I had been at least ten times. So, my sister went to work and didn’t go out the whole day. She was paid very little, but it was something. The owner of the salon was a Bulgarian, but kept her because she worked very well and a lot of people from Sofia were interned to Ferdinand and they wanted good service.
My other sister, Sofka also found a job, but as a bookbinder. The bookstore she worked for was exactly on the border. The owner of the bookstore was Panaiot: a Bulgarian. It was also a publishing house and issued the newspaper ‘Nov Zhivot’ [New Life: weekly containing local news and announcements]. He also liked her work and looked after her. One day she told him, ‘Listen, Panaiote, I’ll keep coming, but I would also like you to employ my sister,’ who was me. ‘What will she do?’ he asked. ‘When necessary, she will help me and the rest of time she will be a shop assistant in the bookstore,’ she said. The bookstore sold not only notebooks, pencils and books, but also clarinet caps and such small items which were bought by people from the nearby villages. Every Monday the bookstore was crowded with customers, because it was the market day in Ferdinand. Panaiot agreed to employ me.
Then we ran out of money. We didn’t receive rations, everything was rationed then, and we had no more money. That happened in fall 1943. My sister Raina, who was a hairdresser, found a job at a salon. It was on a street on the border between the ghetto and the rest of the city. The border passed along the middle of the street, and the salon was on the other side: outside the ghetto. But she took the risk, because if you were caught, you could be arrested as I had been at least ten times. So, my sister went to work and didn’t go out the whole day. She was paid very little, but it was something. The owner of the salon was a Bulgarian, but kept her because she worked very well and a lot of people from Sofia were interned to Ferdinand and they wanted good service.
My other sister, Sofka also found a job, but as a bookbinder. The bookstore she worked for was exactly on the border. The owner of the bookstore was Panaiot: a Bulgarian. It was also a publishing house and issued the newspaper ‘Nov Zhivot’ [New Life: weekly containing local news and announcements]. He also liked her work and looked after her. One day she told him, ‘Listen, Panaiote, I’ll keep coming, but I would also like you to employ my sister,’ who was me. ‘What will she do?’ he asked. ‘When necessary, she will help me and the rest of time she will be a shop assistant in the bookstore,’ she said. The bookstore sold not only notebooks, pencils and books, but also clarinet caps and such small items which were bought by people from the nearby villages. Every Monday the bookstore was crowded with customers, because it was the market day in Ferdinand. Panaiot agreed to employ me.
Location
Bulgaria
Interview
Adela Nissimova Levi