I go to the Jewish Community on every holiday; on certain occasions I even go there twice a day. Men sit in the right half and women sit in the left half. There are very few of us left – only 14 of us still attend the services. The youngest Jew is 60 years old. There are only three men in Braila who are older than I am: Bernstein, 81, [Max] Wolf, 84, and [Silo] Oberman, 86. [Ed. note: Centropa also made interviews with Mr. Max Wolf and Mr. Silo Oberman.] When none of them shows up, I’m the oldest man in the synagogue.
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Displaying 45361 - 45390 of 50826 results
Samuel Eiferman
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We didn’t go on vacation too often. Sure, I remember going to Slanic Moldova, to Baile Herculane or to Constanta; and we once went touring the whole country. But, on the whole, we didn’t travel much.
After I got married I didn’t go to the movies or to the theater as often as before. But my wife and I ate out quite frequently and we attended the New Year’s Eve parties. She worked at the Textile Factory and her sister worked at the bank; we alternately went to the parties held by the factory or by the bank. We were quite happy with our life; we didn’t have too hard of a time. We would stroll in the Public Garden, go to Lacul Sarat or go fishing. For 20 years we went fishing very often. But we stopped doing it 3 years ago; we just don’t have the energy anymore.
I always attended the farming labors [16]. I never lacked food or drinks, but I also worked as hard as I could.
I worked as a clerk for about 5 years, and then I was assigned to man a mechanical hacksaw. I did that for about 16 years, until I retired. While I was a clerk, someone kept nagging me: “So, you’re sitting around in an office instead of doing real work in production?!” As soon as there was an opening at the mechanical hacksaw, I seized the opportunity. I showed them!
In fact, I didn’t have any problems with the Securitate either – I had friends among them too.
All my life I had both Jewish friends and non-Jewish friends. The factory had a staff of about 1,500 people and only one or two of them were Jewish. So it was only natural for me to have Romanian friends too. I didn’t have any problems with them because of my Jewish origin.
However, after the Revolution, the Legionaries [15] resurrected. They wrote nasty words against the Jews right in front of our house, on the pavement. They obviously knew a Jew lived here.
There were coworkers who picked on my Jewish origin, but I would punch them on the spot – I was a bit of a bully and I didn’t think twice. I felt little anti-Semitism under the communist regime – and, in the few instances when it came out, it was motivated by stupidity, not by politics.
In 1947 I joined a Jewish party [14], but I didn’t activate because my job didn’t leave me time to. Many Jews didn’t sign up for any party back then. They only did it after the Revolution. Not me. I was never a member of the Communist Party and I was never forced to become one either.
I registered with the Jewish Community in 1946, as soon as I arrived. They issued a paper certifying I had been in the camp and they gave me aids.
I never hid my Jewish origin. There were Jews who did.
I haven’t used German for a long time. Some 20 years ago a German engineer came to our factory to install some equipment. Back then, it was dangerous to have contacts with Western foreigners. The Securitate officer who was in charge of our factory warned me not to invite that engineer to my place. Every factory had its own Securitate operative in those days. The German engineer was paid 300 lei per day, which was a lot of money 23 years ago. The chief engineer summoned me and told me: “I’m assigning you the German fellow; you are to show him around for three days.” You see, the engineer had installed the new equipment faster than expected, because he was very well trained and I did a good job translating everything there was to know for him. Not wanting to leave for Germany 3 days in advance, he decided to stick around. In 3 days I took him to the most expensive restaurants I could think of. 3 bottles of wine cost 41 lei. We went downtown, to where the Communist Party’s headquarters used to be; that was the fanciest place in town. Then we went to the Traian Hotel and to Lacul Sarat. I felt like taking him to my place too, because I had a very good ‘visinata’ [cherry brandy], but I needed to avoid being followed. So I thought of a trick – you see, I was young and quite sharp at the time. I took him to Lacul Sarat, where we had a beer and a snack, and then I told him: “And now we’re going home.” Back then there wasn’t a streetcar on Dorobanti St., but only on Carol Ave. So we came down Carol Ave., and then we took Republicii St. It was about noon and everyone was at work or in school. We then entered a back alley and I looked behind us to make sure we weren’t being followed – I knew their tactics pretty well by then. We reached my place, where we partied, we drank and we ate properly. In the fourth day, I went to the railroad station and bought him a ticket, and then I saw him to the train.
In 1948 I got another job at the Comlemn warehouse. I worked there for 10 years, and then I moved to the Wood Processing Plant, where I worked for 25 years, until my retirement. The plant made matches, particle boards and furniture.
In 1946 I started working for the Russians near Lacu Sarat, in an ammunition warehouse located in a forest, between Radu Negru and Satu Nou. I rode my bike to work.
The house we’re living in used to belong to my parents-in-law. It is the house where my wife was born. We moved in after we got married. We have three rooms here, plus an extra two rooms on the other side [of the house]. When our son died, we moved his furniture over here; we also sold some of it.
In 1964 we filed a request to leave for Israel for good. But they wouldn’t let us go. I remember there was a Securitate [13] colonel named Rizea who rejected our application. I wanted to take my wife and son with me.
He wasn’t buried in the Jewish cemetery, but in the Christian Orthodox one, as he had been baptized in that faith. They’re about to create a plot in the Jewish cemetery for the couples who have a mixed marriage. There are many of us here in Braila who have non-Jewish spouses – about 35.
We got married on 1 April 1952. It is true that, before the war, the custom for Jews was to marry within their faith; but I married a Romanian. My mother didn’t oppose my decision. Things ceased to be that strict after the war, so no one was surprised.
I found a job. I provided for my mother for as long as she lived. I arranged for her to receive a surviving spouse’s pension, as my father had been shot to death.
We later received aids from the Joint [10]. They gave us money because we had been to Transnistria. And they gave us a house in Braila. If you were able to prove you had been deported, they would give you clothes, money and food. They also ran a canteen.
The first time we came to Braila, my mother and I were lodged by the Herscovici family who lived at the last number on Republicii St. We stayed one year with them. Then we moved at the corner of Unirii St. and Republicii St., where Mrs. Gross lived. She had a dye store downstairs. She didn’t charge us anything. Back then, it was still easy for Jews to find a place to stay. The old Jewish houses were usually occupied by one elderly woman who lived alone in as much as 10 rooms. Our landlady, Mrs. Gross, owned a store, but she didn’t have any children.
On 6 April 1946 my mother and I returned to Romania. The Russians had allowed us to cross the border on condition that we would go to Israel. Many Jews took that opportunity. Although we were only supposed to transit Romania, my mother wouldn’t go any further, so stayed here.
It hurts me to remember all these things I have been through from 1940 up to this day. My mind shudders. That camp and everything that followed left deep marks.
Romania
After the Revolution [12], my cousin Coca wrote to me that our old house had been demolished and that a Gypsy family had built a new one in its place.
I rushed with that paper to Storojinet and I crossed the border with Romania through the town of Siret. I had to give up all my possessions in order to be allowed to cross the border, you see.
I hadn’t seen my village since 1941, when we had been deported. I found my home empty – it had been looted back then, in 1941. That forest ranger I told you about must have had a whole gang of henchmen who helped him seize everything the Jews left behind: cattle, horses, carts and sleighs, chicken, furniture, clothes and anything else that bore any value whatsoever. I stayed for a day in the village and the sight was discouraging. There were no Jews left and other people had moved into their houses. The village had a new mayor whom I didn’t know. I went to him and filed a statement that expressed my consent about assigning my house to another family. The mayor then issued a certificate stating that I made no material claims.
I worked for a spirits factory in Krasnoilsk until 1946. In April I returned home.
I only saw my mother in Storojinet, in the summer of 1945.
I served on the front lines and I was discharged in July or August 1945.
I served on the front lines and I was discharged in July or August 1945.
My mother stayed in the camp with Roza, who was ill and was confined to the infirmary, where she soon died.