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My father read more than my mother. He liked various Soviet books - from 'Dead Siberia Fields' to books devoted to Lev Trotsky. My father also loved singing. When we gathered with my father's sister and her husband at home or with my mother's brother and his wife, he always sang Ladino songs: 'Una morte union', '?tra muher nokero', 'Una chica corazon'.
My mother's name was Sarah Avram Pizanti, nee Lidgi, but everyone called her Freda. She was born on 8th August 1895 in Vidin. And she died on 30th October 1985. Her mother died when she was giving birth to her last son. My mother didn't know her father, because she was seven years old when he died. So, I didn't know any maternal or paternal grandparents.
My mother was a diabetic. She was almost illiterate. During the Law for the Protection of the Nation [12], she worked as a housemaid for the rich Jews. I, as the youngest child, went with her, peeling onions, potatoes etc.
My mother observed all holidays, especially Yom Kippur. We gathered with her brother and my father's sister. They didn't eat because of the holiday and we, the children, stayed in the shupron [shed for coal and wood], where they gave us something to eat. One day, on the evening of Yom Kippur after the shofar played in the synagogue and the family gathered, my father came back from the synagogue with the words: 'Come on, I'm hungry...' My mother brought him a dish of stuffed peppers. And suddenly she cried out: 'Buko!' and she fainted. Everyone started to fuss around her. When she came to, she said: 'Look, what you have on your tie!' And on his tie under his chin he had a piece of spaghetti. My mother was horrified that he had eaten during the day. 'How could you do that, Buko!', she said.
My mother's name was Sarah Avram Pizanti, nee Lidgi, but everyone called her Freda. She was born on 8th August 1895 in Vidin. And she died on 30th October 1985. Her mother died when she was giving birth to her last son. My mother didn't know her father, because she was seven years old when he died. So, I didn't know any maternal or paternal grandparents.
My mother was a diabetic. She was almost illiterate. During the Law for the Protection of the Nation [12], she worked as a housemaid for the rich Jews. I, as the youngest child, went with her, peeling onions, potatoes etc.
My mother observed all holidays, especially Yom Kippur. We gathered with her brother and my father's sister. They didn't eat because of the holiday and we, the children, stayed in the shupron [shed for coal and wood], where they gave us something to eat. One day, on the evening of Yom Kippur after the shofar played in the synagogue and the family gathered, my father came back from the synagogue with the words: 'Come on, I'm hungry...' My mother brought him a dish of stuffed peppers. And suddenly she cried out: 'Buko!' and she fainted. Everyone started to fuss around her. When she came to, she said: 'Look, what you have on your tie!' And on his tie under his chin he had a piece of spaghetti. My mother was horrified that he had eaten during the day. 'How could you do that, Buko!', she said.
Location
Bulgaria
Interview
Mimi-Matilda Petkova