Hanka survived Auschwitz and other camps, but not her husband. After the war Hanka married Karel Bruml and moved to the USA. Karel Bruml also passed through the Nazi camps, including Auschwitz.
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Displaying 43741 - 43770 of 50826 results
Michaela Vidlakova
After not quite two months I fell ill. First I got the standard ‘Terezinka,’ or dysentery. There wasn’t anyplace to isolate sick children, so I remained in the ‘Heim’ amongst the children. To this day I remember spending nights sitting on the toilet, lit by a blue light, because it wasn’t even any point in getting off it. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t even have a bed. There were so many children there that I slept on two benches butted up against each other.
My mother was known for her teaching work, so they immediately summoned her to ‘Jugendfürsorge’ [caring for the young]; she first worked in the girls’ ‘Heim’ [home] and later became the head of the ‘Tagesheim’ [daycare for children whose parents were out working]. That was a facility for small children who for some reason didn’t live in a ‘Kinderheim’ [children’s homes] and needed to be watched during the day. The ‘Tagesheim’ was in Street L, No. 200. Although teaching was forbidden, she basically ran this one-room schoolhouse there, so after the war all the children that survived were able to not only enter a class appropriate for their age, but many times a grade or two higher than where they would have belonged.
My husband was a big anti-Communist, but more of an internal one, he had participated in the struggle against Communists back as a student, and then no longer. In the fall of 1989 he of course also went to jingle keys [during the Velvet Revolution people symbolically expressed their dissatisfaction with the Communist regime by jingling their keys during demonstrations], those were great times, but for me very demanding.
Miriam Patova
In 1991 the Soviet Union broke up, which was a historical event. There had been hard times before this happened, when perestroika declined resulting in the putsch [see 1991 Moscow coup d’etat][42], arranged by the forces that were no longer the leadership of the country. They were communists and the KGB [43]. I think that the breakup of the USSR was an appropriate and right thing. The announcement of Estonian Independence was the right step[see Reestablishment of the Estonian Republic] [44]. Of course, some people believe life was better in the USSR. One can understand this position. Freedom is a hard thing to maintain. It’s hard to be free and have to make one’s own decision, choose one’s ways and take responsibilities. It’s easier to have no freedom. One doesn’t have any cares and only needs to be led.
This wish to have the USSR back is nothing but this longing for non-freedom. We are given and we accept it. We didn’t earn our salaries, we just received them. We were given some things paying for them with our freedom. Freedom is the most important right. I want to be free. It can’t be that one can’t have his own mind. I want to live my life following my rules rather than some forced ideology. Nobody gives me or Henrich anything. We receive our pensions which we earned. I have 44 and Henrich has 43 years of work experience. We earned the money which we are paid and try to manage with it. We handle it appropriately. We can’t afford long telephone discussions of leaking taps, this is too costly. We also had to get used to the new order of things after the Soviet times, when things were cheap and uncontrollable. I think now things are right.
This wish to have the USSR back is nothing but this longing for non-freedom. We are given and we accept it. We didn’t earn our salaries, we just received them. We were given some things paying for them with our freedom. Freedom is the most important right. I want to be free. It can’t be that one can’t have his own mind. I want to live my life following my rules rather than some forced ideology. Nobody gives me or Henrich anything. We receive our pensions which we earned. I have 44 and Henrich has 43 years of work experience. We earned the money which we are paid and try to manage with it. We handle it appropriately. We can’t afford long telephone discussions of leaking taps, this is too costly. We also had to get used to the new order of things after the Soviet times, when things were cheap and uncontrollable. I think now things are right.
, Estonia
We didn’t travel much. When our children were small, we spent our vacations in Estonia. We never went to the south. I believe that our own climate is better for people. Our woods with mushrooms and berries are very good to go to. We’ve never traveled to Ukraine, my father’s motherland. I have no regrets about it. I admire people who travel all over the world and want to see everything, but it’s too much trouble for us. There is only one exception. My husband and I wanted to go to Israel. We visited it in 1995 and 1997. Israel is a miracle for me. We wanted to visit all the places there. We went to Eilat, the border with Lebanon and a kibbutz. It’s a beautiful country. It’s a country where people can live their full life. We weren’t afraid of walking at night. At home we don’t walk in the evening, fearing hooligans. We had no fears in Israel, but at some point we felt like it was time to go home. I’ve always been proud of being a Jew, but in Israel I even felt stronger about it. I felt togetherness with the people. I admire the people of Israel, and I straighten up thinking about them. I felt that they were my kin in Israel, even if we didn’t know each other. I was proud to tell my neighbors that my granddaughter was serving in the army, and they were surprised and even jealous about it. The girl is in the army and is proud of having this chance to defend her country! However, moving to Israel and changing the way of life would be like relocating an old tree. It will not strike roots in the new place.
Israel
Our apartment was very cold. We lived on the ground floor of a wooden house with thin walls. In winter the house froze through, it was impossible to stand on the floor with bare feet. We had a stove which heated the house, and my household called me a ‘stoker on duty.’ I got up before everybody else to heat the house. When I came home from work, the first thing I did was stoke the stove. We also cooked on wood or on coal bricks. There was no hot water supply. We had a wood stoked water heater in the bathroom. I dreamed about an apartment of our own with central heating and hot water. When I mentioned this to my husband, he replied that so many people were poor and lived in basement apartments while we were so cozy at our home. What could I say? Many of my acquaintances had moved around several times when we still lived in a shared apartment. My husband was the financial and pension fund manager at the military office and also, chairman of the military housing commission, but he couldn’t take advantage of his official authority to improve our own situation. We received a new apartment 30 years ago [in 1975] before the 30thanniversary of our victory. I remember I was taking a rest after my night-shift at the hospital. Henrich came home, shook a key ring with new keys before my nose and told me to get dressed. I told him to leave me alone. He waited till I got up, and we went to take a look at our new apartment. The first thing I did was taking a hot shower. I was so happy! We’ve lived here since then. However, I never had angina or a stuffed nose, when we lived in the wooden house. The air was different, I guess.
, Russia
We observed Jewish traditions in our family. My husband and I were never ashamed of our Jewish identity. We believed our children had to know the traditions and follow them. Our people brought them through many centuries of oppression and persecutions, preserved them and we were to convey them to our children. Religion was forbidden in the USSR, but we believed we could do what we thought was right at home. We celebrated Jewish holidays and received guests. On Pesach we always had matzah and conducted the seder. Our children joined in our celebrations. My husband and I told them about each holiday and how it should be celebrated. They knew the history of the Jewish people and their traditions. We also celebrated Soviet holidays: 1stMay, 7thNovember [October Revolution Day] [33], and Victory Day [34]. Victory Day was the greatest holiday. It was the holiday for those who had survived this hell. Other holidays were also good since we didn’t have to go to work and could enjoy our free time with the family. We liked this opportunity to spend more time with our children. We spoke Russian to our children. They learned Estonian while playing with the other children in the yard.
In March 1953 Stalin died. He wasn’t my idol. I had no idols. Many people grieved after him, as if he was their dearest person. I felt no grief. I can’t say I was sure about certain things, but my intuition told me that he knew about all these horrors in the USSR and he must have given his orders. At the Twentieth Party Congress [30] Nikita Khrushchev [31] exposed Stalin’s crimes, and I was horrified. It’s one thing to assume, and a totally different thing when you hear the proof. We were hoping for improvement, but nothing of this kind happened. Anti-Semitism didn’t disappear, and we were still separated from the rest of the world. The USSR was still surrounded by the Iron Curtain [32].
I got married when I was a second-year student. I met Henrich Kurizkes in Tallinn, when I was at school. My friend introduced him to me during an interval at a concert in the Tallinn Philarmonic. During the war he served in the Estonian Corps. After the war he continued his service in the Estonian Corps in Tallinn. Henrich was born in Tallinn in 1924. His father, Lazar Kurizkes, was born in Narva. He later moved to Tallinn. Henrich’s mother, Rebekka, came from Tallinn. Henrich’s parents were working. They raised him hardworking. He studied in a private Russian gymnasium and then in an Estonian English college. Henrich went home from school, heated and served dinner to his mother when she came home from work. Henrich studied well, and was offered to give private classes to weaker children. He earned money to buy his first suit by teaching.
Henrich and I saw each other while I was in Tallinn. When I went to Leningrad, we corresponded and only saw each other when I went on vacation to see my parents. We got married when I went on vacation in 1950. We just registered our marriage and I went back to Leningrad.I gave my mother my word that I would finish my studies and become a doctor. Henrich was transferred to the military recruitment office in Tikhvin [today Russia] near Leningrad, and he visited me on weekends. Our daughter Tatiana was born before my winter exams, when I was in my forth year in college. I had to study and take care of the baby. It wasn’t easy. I passed my exams. When the baby turned three months, I took her to my mother in Tallinn. Thanks to my mother, who cared about my daughter, I managed to finish college. I obtained a degree of a children’s doctor. Henrich was transferred to Boksitogorsk [a small town 200 km east of St. Petersburg], where he received a two-room apartment in a new apartment building. I finished college in 1954. I requested for a job in Boksitogorsk for my graduate assignment [see mandatory job assignment in the USSR] [29]. Members of the board were rather surprised that I wanted to go to such a distant town, and I explained that I just wanted to go where my husband was working. I went to work as a children’s doctor in the municipal hospital in Boksitogorsk. I got along well with my colleagues. I also became a member of the Komsomol committee and was involved in their activities. I took my daughter with me, and we’ve always been together ever since.
Henrich and I saw each other while I was in Tallinn. When I went to Leningrad, we corresponded and only saw each other when I went on vacation to see my parents. We got married when I went on vacation in 1950. We just registered our marriage and I went back to Leningrad.I gave my mother my word that I would finish my studies and become a doctor. Henrich was transferred to the military recruitment office in Tikhvin [today Russia] near Leningrad, and he visited me on weekends. Our daughter Tatiana was born before my winter exams, when I was in my forth year in college. I had to study and take care of the baby. It wasn’t easy. I passed my exams. When the baby turned three months, I took her to my mother in Tallinn. Thanks to my mother, who cared about my daughter, I managed to finish college. I obtained a degree of a children’s doctor. Henrich was transferred to Boksitogorsk [a small town 200 km east of St. Petersburg], where he received a two-room apartment in a new apartment building. I finished college in 1954. I requested for a job in Boksitogorsk for my graduate assignment [see mandatory job assignment in the USSR] [29]. Members of the board were rather surprised that I wanted to go to such a distant town, and I explained that I just wanted to go where my husband was working. I went to work as a children’s doctor in the municipal hospital in Boksitogorsk. I got along well with my colleagues. I also became a member of the Komsomol committee and was involved in their activities. I took my daughter with me, and we’ve always been together ever since.
I had some Jewish group mates and there were also Jewish professors in the college. In January 1953 the Doctors’ Plot [28] began. It was very scary. People were afraid of speaking aloud. They whispered things. Our Jewish professors disappeared, but everything was done quietly and there were no meetings held on this subject. Jewish students weren’t involved, though.
In 1948 the struggle against cosmopolitism [see Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’] [26] began in the USSR. I knew something was going on. My parents discussed something lowering their voices, but they didn’t have any such discussions in my presence. Our family wasn’t involved in anything like this. My sister got married and had a son. We had to take care of our everyday routines and had no time for political issues.
We were very poor after the war. My mother did her best to feed us, but it was impossible to get shoes or clothes. Everybody wore white tennis shoes cleaning them with toothpaste. Also, if we could buy calico, we made calico dresses.
Of course, the Soviet regime affected our lives radically. Many things seemed strange and weird to us. However, I don’t think we gave much thought to them at that time. We just lived our lives. Perhaps, this was the only right thing to do. We also adjusted to the ideology since there was no other alternative. Perhaps, things were easier with our family. We never wanted extra riches. We were used to doing things with our own hands and making do with what we had.
Of course, the Soviet regime affected our lives radically. Many things seemed strange and weird to us. However, I don’t think we gave much thought to them at that time. We just lived our lives. Perhaps, this was the only right thing to do. We also adjusted to the ideology since there was no other alternative. Perhaps, things were easier with our family. We never wanted extra riches. We were used to doing things with our own hands and making do with what we had.
In Tallinn our family also followed Jewish traditions. We celebrated Jewish holidays and followed the kashrut to the extent that we could, considering the lack of food during the postwar years. The beautiful synagogue in Tallinn [see Tallinn synagogue] [23] was gone. It was ruined by the Soviet air force during their attack on 8thMarch 1944. The Soviet regime struggled against religion [see Struggle against religion] [24], but the Soviet authorities gave the Jewish community in Tallinn a small and shabby wooden house for the synagogue. However miserable it was, people came there to pray and celebrate the holidays. On Pesach they could buy matzah at the synagogue. There was no rabbi in Tallinn, but those who knew the Jewish religion and Jewish traditions performed this ritual. There was also a shochet in Tallinn. My father was a member of the Jewish community and took part in its activities. Members of the community got together every week. There was no Chevra Kaddishain Tallinn after the war. When Jewish people died, they were to be buried in accordance with the rituals. Somebody who knew Jewish traditions usually performed this ritual, and sometimes my father conducted Jewish funeral services. There was a Jewish cemetery in Tallinn. It was amazing that the Germans never ruined one single gravestone in the cemetery. After the war Jews continued to be buried in the Jewish cemetery.
Though my father was a deeply religious person, he must have been shocked with what was happening in Estonia during the German occupation. My father expressed rebellious ideas saying, ‘What kind of God do we have? Is he deaf and blind allowing such horrors and crimes to be committed?
Though my father was a deeply religious person, he must have been shocked with what was happening in Estonia during the German occupation. My father expressed rebellious ideas saying, ‘What kind of God do we have? Is he deaf and blind allowing such horrors and crimes to be committed?
When we returned to Tallinn we got to know about the horrific happenings during the war. Estonia was the first European country to report its territory Judenfrei [21], or Jew-free to Hitler. Thinking about it now, I’m trying to remember whether we were scared of living here after the war, what our neighbors thought about us and what we thought about them knowing about what was happening, but these issues never came up at that time. We got along well with our neighbors. We had good neighborly relations. You can say, ‘What kind of people were you? How could you forgive this?’ Then I would ask, ‘And what kind of people are those who move to Germany nowadays? How can they walk the streets that had been flooded with blood? Why don’t they move to Israel instead?’ As for what I think about Estonians, I know these people aren’t to blame for what had happened. Perhaps, a big part of the blame is on the Soviet regime.
After the deportations in 1941 [see Soviet Deportation of Estonian Civilians][22] many Estonian residents believed the German forces to be their liberators and rescuers from the Soviet threat, so they readily fulfilled orders of the occupants, accepting their rules and hoping for a better life. However, not only the Estonians but also the Jews were looking for ways of escape from the Soviet regime. Many Jews refused evacuation for this very reason. They thought there was nothing to be afraid of regarding the Germans. My parents had a nice friend in Rakvere where we lived before the war. He was a chemical engineer and a Jew. I liked him a lot. He was single and often visited us. He used to read to me while holding me on his lap. My mother had tried to convince him to evacuate, but he said that when the Germans were in Rakvere he would wear a yellow star and life would go on. He was more afraid of having to evacuate to the USSR. Many Jews thought in this way and paid for this with their lives right after the German armies occupied our land.
My grandmother’s older sister Ida stayed in Riga during the war. She was a very beautiful woman. Ida spoke fluent German. However, somebody reported to the Germans that Ida was a Jew and she was sent to the ghetto. Ida survived. When the Soviet army advanced to Latvia, the Germans forced the remaining inmates of the ghetto to march to Germany. The Germans killed those who couldn’t walk. When in Germany, Ida fell from exhaustion and a German soldier shot at her. The bullet was slightly grazing her head, but didn’t affect any vital parts. When the rest of the column left, Ida got to her feet and started on her way back. She stayed with a local German family, who gave her food and sent her to the hospital. A German medical officer treated her in the hospital. He managed to keep Ida there for a week before he released and showed her in which direction she had to go. She managed to get to the Soviet units where she mentioned her niece Dora’s name. Dora was found and she helped Ida. What was amazing was that Ida had diabetes and lived on insulin injections, but she managed without any insulin during the war and she survived. Ida died in Tallinn at the age of 80.
After the deportations in 1941 [see Soviet Deportation of Estonian Civilians][22] many Estonian residents believed the German forces to be their liberators and rescuers from the Soviet threat, so they readily fulfilled orders of the occupants, accepting their rules and hoping for a better life. However, not only the Estonians but also the Jews were looking for ways of escape from the Soviet regime. Many Jews refused evacuation for this very reason. They thought there was nothing to be afraid of regarding the Germans. My parents had a nice friend in Rakvere where we lived before the war. He was a chemical engineer and a Jew. I liked him a lot. He was single and often visited us. He used to read to me while holding me on his lap. My mother had tried to convince him to evacuate, but he said that when the Germans were in Rakvere he would wear a yellow star and life would go on. He was more afraid of having to evacuate to the USSR. Many Jews thought in this way and paid for this with their lives right after the German armies occupied our land.
My grandmother’s older sister Ida stayed in Riga during the war. She was a very beautiful woman. Ida spoke fluent German. However, somebody reported to the Germans that Ida was a Jew and she was sent to the ghetto. Ida survived. When the Soviet army advanced to Latvia, the Germans forced the remaining inmates of the ghetto to march to Germany. The Germans killed those who couldn’t walk. When in Germany, Ida fell from exhaustion and a German soldier shot at her. The bullet was slightly grazing her head, but didn’t affect any vital parts. When the rest of the column left, Ida got to her feet and started on her way back. She stayed with a local German family, who gave her food and sent her to the hospital. A German medical officer treated her in the hospital. He managed to keep Ida there for a week before he released and showed her in which direction she had to go. She managed to get to the Soviet units where she mentioned her niece Dora’s name. Dora was found and she helped Ida. What was amazing was that Ida had diabetes and lived on insulin injections, but she managed without any insulin during the war and she survived. Ida died in Tallinn at the age of 80.
My father and I were sent to Yaroslavl [today Russia] where most of the Estonian citizens were sent. Somehow my father managed to find out that my mother, sister and Rachmil and his wife were in Mariyskaya SSR [about 600 km from Moscow]. My father got in touch with them, and we went to Mariyskaya SSR where we reunited with the family. We didn’t stay long there. Dora managed to arrange for us to go to Cheliabinsk [about 1,500 km from Moscow] where we were accommodated in a small house. Uncle Alexandr and his family joined us. Our family shared one room, Uncle Rachmil and his wife stayed in another room, and Alexandr, his wife and their son lived in the third room. Alexandr went to work at the military plant, which released him from military duty in the army. Alexandr worked from early morning till late at night. When he returned home, he often fell asleep at the dinner table. My father and Rachmil were tailors in a shop. One year later, my father was mobilized to the army. My father was assigned to the Estonian Rifle Corps [17].
Uncle Rachmil had lost one eye, which released him from service in the army. My father served in the army for one year. He fell seriously ill at the front and also, he was overage. He was demobilized and returned to Cheliabinsk.
We didn’t starve in evacuation thanks to my mother and her abilities. She traded clothes for food at the market. We always had some extra bread besides the ration we received for cards [see Card system] [18] and potatoes. My mother made soup with peeled potatoes. As for the peels, she washed and ground them to make pancakes. She worked about the house all day, but we had sufficient food thanks to her skills.
Uncle Rachmil had lost one eye, which released him from service in the army. My father served in the army for one year. He fell seriously ill at the front and also, he was overage. He was demobilized and returned to Cheliabinsk.
We didn’t starve in evacuation thanks to my mother and her abilities. She traded clothes for food at the market. We always had some extra bread besides the ration we received for cards [see Card system] [18] and potatoes. My mother made soup with peeled potatoes. As for the peels, she washed and ground them to make pancakes. She worked about the house all day, but we had sufficient food thanks to her skills.
Beines went to Leningrad [today Russia] on business before the war. He was to deliver a vehicle there. My mother was very worried, but she hoped Beines would take care of himself, and we couldn’t stay any longer in Rakvere waiting for him. We packed a few things and went to the railway station. The trains were leaving, filled with people. The station was overcrowded. The crowd separated our family. My father and I failed to board the train whereas my mother and sister managed to get on. My father decided to go to Leningrad where his brother lived, but the train went past Leningrad. We stopped at a station in the suburb for a long while. There we met with my brother, who was on his way back to Tallinn. We told him to join us, but Beines said he had his orders and had to go back to Tallinn to report the completion of his task. This was the last time I saw my brother alive.
I couldn’t give thorough consideration to the annexation of Estonia to the Soviet Union considering my age. All I remember about it is that Rachmil lost his store. He went to work as a tailor in a state owned shop. Our lives didn’t change as much. However, there was also a great joy in our life. My grandparents could finally see their daughter Dora and son Naum who lived in Moscow. Dora invited her parents to visit them. She was the director of a textile factory. She was also a deputy and was awarded an order for her work. When Dora turned 40 she went to study in the textile college. She was a strong-willed person. The factory employees respected her a lot, though she was strict and demanding. Dora dedicated her life to her work at the factory. She took great care of the employees. They were women, and there were many single women after the war. Many had children, and my aunt opened kindergartens and nurseries at the factory. Dora and Naum were altruistic and idealistic people. They believed in communist ideas and wanted everybody to have a good life.
Rakvere was a small town, and there was no Jewish school. My sister and brother studied in a German school. Rachil finished twelve years of the gymnasium. She knew Russian and English. They also got vocational education. Rachil could do typing, file keeping, sewing and knitting. After finishing the gymnasium my sister moved to Tallinn. She wanted to live in a bigger town, and believed she would have more opportunities in Tallinn. However, there was an economic recession during this period, and it took her a while to find a job. She finally found a job as a shop assistant.
My brother was very talented. Everything came easy to him. He had a beautiful baritone and he was very musical. He took singing classes. He was strong, tall and handsome. He was growing fast and couldn’t wait till he could start working. He liked dealing with technical things. He always fixed bicycles, though nobody taught him to do it. After finishing the seventh grade, Beines left school. My mother was very disappointed. She had always wanted her children to get a good education, particularly considering that she never had a chance. However, my brother insisted on having his own way. At 17 he went to Tallinn where he became an apprentice car mechanic. My mother went with him to find him a place to stay. When my brother started working he went to an evening school.
Beines had his bar mitzvah at the age of 13. There was a big celebration in the family. He was given a tallit for his bar mitzvah. It was different from the tallit of an adult man: woolen and white and black. His was a silk one with tassels and blue edges. His tallit was in a little silk bag with a hexagonal star embroidered in gold. There was also a scroll on thin parchment, an extract from the Torah. My mother had this bag with her during the evacuation. It lived through all the hardships of our lives and even its owner. I kept it for a long time not knowing what to do with it. Later, I gave it to our granddaughter Rosa. She lives in Israel and keeps this family sanctity.
I went to the Estonian school. We studied all the subjects in Estonian. We also had German classes every day. The school was accommodated in a small wooden house. There was one teacher for two classes. I was the only Jewish student in my class, but in all those years I can’t remember one single incident of unkind attitude towards me or any emphasis on my origin. When the rest of the class had a religious class, my teacher didn’t force me to study the Orthodox religion. She gave me a Bible, a thick book with pictures, and I looked at the pictures. Every morning there was a prayer before our classes started, but I was allowed to go to school after the prayer. On the eve of Jewish holidays my teacher told me that I could stay at home. This respectful attitude to a different religion during the period of the first Estonian independence [11] was absolutely natural for us. Our uniform was a dark blue dress with a little white collar and an apron. On holidays we wore a bigger white collar, which we tied in a bow, and no apron. We were raised in strictness. I liked running along the streets, and when I saw a policeman, I slowed down and greeted him making a curtsy before him. This was the rule considering that he guarded the nation. If a boy and a girl walked together, the boy was to let her pass before he went through the door. We were taught this in our childhood: this was the way things should have been. Later, after the Soviet occupation [see Occupation of the Baltic Republics][12], when Estonia was annexed to the Soviet Union in 1940, our school was closed, and all the schoolchildren were sent to the Municipal Estonian school. I never faced any anti-Semitism in my old or new school. This subject was never discussed at home either. I had Jewish and Estonian friends. They visited me at home, and my mother always treated them nicely.
My brother was very talented. Everything came easy to him. He had a beautiful baritone and he was very musical. He took singing classes. He was strong, tall and handsome. He was growing fast and couldn’t wait till he could start working. He liked dealing with technical things. He always fixed bicycles, though nobody taught him to do it. After finishing the seventh grade, Beines left school. My mother was very disappointed. She had always wanted her children to get a good education, particularly considering that she never had a chance. However, my brother insisted on having his own way. At 17 he went to Tallinn where he became an apprentice car mechanic. My mother went with him to find him a place to stay. When my brother started working he went to an evening school.
Beines had his bar mitzvah at the age of 13. There was a big celebration in the family. He was given a tallit for his bar mitzvah. It was different from the tallit of an adult man: woolen and white and black. His was a silk one with tassels and blue edges. His tallit was in a little silk bag with a hexagonal star embroidered in gold. There was also a scroll on thin parchment, an extract from the Torah. My mother had this bag with her during the evacuation. It lived through all the hardships of our lives and even its owner. I kept it for a long time not knowing what to do with it. Later, I gave it to our granddaughter Rosa. She lives in Israel and keeps this family sanctity.
I went to the Estonian school. We studied all the subjects in Estonian. We also had German classes every day. The school was accommodated in a small wooden house. There was one teacher for two classes. I was the only Jewish student in my class, but in all those years I can’t remember one single incident of unkind attitude towards me or any emphasis on my origin. When the rest of the class had a religious class, my teacher didn’t force me to study the Orthodox religion. She gave me a Bible, a thick book with pictures, and I looked at the pictures. Every morning there was a prayer before our classes started, but I was allowed to go to school after the prayer. On the eve of Jewish holidays my teacher told me that I could stay at home. This respectful attitude to a different religion during the period of the first Estonian independence [11] was absolutely natural for us. Our uniform was a dark blue dress with a little white collar and an apron. On holidays we wore a bigger white collar, which we tied in a bow, and no apron. We were raised in strictness. I liked running along the streets, and when I saw a policeman, I slowed down and greeted him making a curtsy before him. This was the rule considering that he guarded the nation. If a boy and a girl walked together, the boy was to let her pass before he went through the door. We were taught this in our childhood: this was the way things should have been. Later, after the Soviet occupation [see Occupation of the Baltic Republics][12], when Estonia was annexed to the Soviet Union in 1940, our school was closed, and all the schoolchildren were sent to the Municipal Estonian school. I never faced any anti-Semitism in my old or new school. This subject was never discussed at home either. I had Jewish and Estonian friends. They visited me at home, and my mother always treated them nicely.
My parents observed Jewish traditions at home. On Saturdays and Jewish holidays they went to the synagogue and the children always went with them. My mother always asked me whether I wanted to go to the synagogue with them, and I always accepted. I found these Jewish gatherings interesting, and children also talked with other children. My mother and I went to the upper tier where other women were praying. My brother stayed with my father on the ground floor. My father was a member of the Jewish community of Rakvere. On Saturdays they had meetings to discuss their issues. We also celebrated Jewish holidays at home according to the traditions. My mother had special dishes for Pesach. My father bought matzah for Pesach at the synagogue. We only ate matzah through the whole duration of the holiday. There was no bread at home. My father conducted the Pesach seder. Everything was in accordance with the Jewish traditions. On Yom Kippur my parents fasted. I always looked forward to Chanukkah.
My parents spoke Yiddish to one another and German to the children. We all spoke fluent Estonian, living among Estonians and communicating with them. My parents also knew Russian, but we didn’t speak it at home.
I don’t know how my parents met. I think they got married in 1919. Since their families were religious, I think my parents had a traditional Jewish wedding. I don’t think it could have been otherwise at that time. After the wedding my parents resided in Viljandi for some time before moving to Rakvere [100 km from Tallinn]. I don’t know what made them move. Unfortunately, I shall never get answers to these questions.
Rakvere was a small beautiful town. It was an old town with a ruined castle. Its old name was Vezenberg. It was a clean and tiny town. Its residents led a quiet life. They didn’t even lock their houses as there was no theft. Owners of houses cleaned the pavements in front of their houses and everything was very clean.
The Jewish community was established in Rakvere at the end of the 19thcentury. There was a synagogue in Rakvere and also a shochet. There was a cheder for boys. There was a Jewish cemetery with beautiful gravestones and tombs. Cantonists [9] were the first people buried in the cemetery. However, there was no Jewish general education school there. Children studied in a German gymnasium and an Estonian school with advanced studies of German. All Jewish families in Rakvere were religious, observed Jewish traditions and raised their children religiously. My parents settled down in a small house with a garden. My father made hats and my mother assisted him. She also took care of the house and children. My sister Rachil [see Common name] [10], Rokhle-Leya in her documents, was the oldest. She was born in 1920. Then came my brother Beines, born in 1923, and I was born in 1929. I was named Miriam after my paternal grandmother.
Rakvere was a small beautiful town. It was an old town with a ruined castle. Its old name was Vezenberg. It was a clean and tiny town. Its residents led a quiet life. They didn’t even lock their houses as there was no theft. Owners of houses cleaned the pavements in front of their houses and everything was very clean.
The Jewish community was established in Rakvere at the end of the 19thcentury. There was a synagogue in Rakvere and also a shochet. There was a cheder for boys. There was a Jewish cemetery with beautiful gravestones and tombs. Cantonists [9] were the first people buried in the cemetery. However, there was no Jewish general education school there. Children studied in a German gymnasium and an Estonian school with advanced studies of German. All Jewish families in Rakvere were religious, observed Jewish traditions and raised their children religiously. My parents settled down in a small house with a garden. My father made hats and my mother assisted him. She also took care of the house and children. My sister Rachil [see Common name] [10], Rokhle-Leya in her documents, was the oldest. She was born in 1920. Then came my brother Beines, born in 1923, and I was born in 1929. I was named Miriam after my paternal grandmother.
My grandfather was the breadwinner, and the family was big. My mother told me that they were very poor. To have something for the family to eat in winter, my grandmother cooked red bilberries. She couldn’t afford to buy sugar to make bilberry jam, so she just cooked it plain. In winter they spread it on bread. In winter my mother wore galoshes. However poor the family was they managed to raise their children. [My mother’s sister] Dora was very smart. She did well at elementary school, and Viljandi town authorities granted her a scholarship to continue her studies. Dora finished a gymnasium. My mother did badly at school, but she was also eager to study. Unfortunately, she had no such opportunity. At the age of ten, she had to help my grandmother about the house. She also made hat linings and attended to the younger children. My grandfather had no money to pay for my mother’s education. My grandfather said to my mother, ‘Sheina, you can sign your name, read and count. This is when you have to stop your studies. You’re very handy and will assist me with my work.’
My mother sewed hat linings while standing at the table, being too short to sit, and holding little Alexandr [her youngest brother]. She was clever with everything she did. She also taught us that nothing in life is easy. It can never be. She used to say, ‘If you want to accomplish things in life, you have to be quick-witted. You have to pinwheel to have your rear ahead of you.’ I often recall my mother’s witty and wise expressions behind her joking manner. She only finished two years in elementary school, and this was all the education she managed to get. However, she did her best in learning things by herself. She spoke Estonian, German, Russian and Yiddish. She wrote in Russian with mistakes, but she could write well in Estonian. My mother wanted to go to Paris [today France] before she got married. It was quite common for girls from poorer families to go to Paris to learn dressmaking. When the training was over they returned home and opened their own businesses. Local ladies willingly ordered their dresses from dressmakers trained in Paris. This was quite a profitable business. My mother tried to convince my grandfather to send her to Paris, but he said he had no money. Therefore, my mother’s dream to study never came true, and the only thing she had left in this regard was to dream for her children to get a good education.
My mother sewed hat linings while standing at the table, being too short to sit, and holding little Alexandr [her youngest brother]. She was clever with everything she did. She also taught us that nothing in life is easy. It can never be. She used to say, ‘If you want to accomplish things in life, you have to be quick-witted. You have to pinwheel to have your rear ahead of you.’ I often recall my mother’s witty and wise expressions behind her joking manner. She only finished two years in elementary school, and this was all the education she managed to get. However, she did her best in learning things by herself. She spoke Estonian, German, Russian and Yiddish. She wrote in Russian with mistakes, but she could write well in Estonian. My mother wanted to go to Paris [today France] before she got married. It was quite common for girls from poorer families to go to Paris to learn dressmaking. When the training was over they returned home and opened their own businesses. Local ladies willingly ordered their dresses from dressmakers trained in Paris. This was quite a profitable business. My mother tried to convince my grandfather to send her to Paris, but he said he had no money. Therefore, my mother’s dream to study never came true, and the only thing she had left in this regard was to dream for her children to get a good education.
I know more about my mother’s family. The history of my mother’s family starts with my grandfather. His name was Moshe Hazan. He was short and had red hair. I know that my grandfather lived in a small town. Somehow I remember that it must have been in Ukraine. His parents sent him for training with a Jewish hat maker called Birbauer. The training course lasted two years and after finishing it my grandfather became this hat maker’s apprentice. He stayed with his trainer’s family. He was also provided meals, but wasn’t paid for his work. The hat maker had no extra money to pay my grandfather. Birbauer had a wife and eight daughters. His was a big family. One day my grandfather lost his temper and informed his master of his strong intention to leave him for not being paid for his work, but he also demanded that his master paid him whatever he owed. The master said he still had no money to pay him, but that he could give him one of his daughters to marry. My grandfather chose the youngest, Hava, who had gray eyes. She must have not turned 16 at that time. I only knew my grandmother’s older sister Ida of my grandmother’s family. She lived in Riga [today Latvia] making men’s clothes. Ida was single.
My maternal grandparents had a traditional Jewish wedding. After the wedding they moved to Riga. My grandfather earned his living by making hats, while my grandmother gave birth to their children. She had ten, but five died in infancy. One of those who survived was my mother’s sister Dora, born in 1894. My mother Sheina was the next child. She was called Zhenny in the family. She was born in 1896. After my mother, her brother Rachmil was born, and the next one was Naum. The youngest in the family was Alexandr, born in 1907. My mother told me that though all the children in the family were different, they were hardworking, cheerful and could sing very well. My aunts and uncles could make their own clothes and cook. Actually, there was hardly anything they couldn’t do. They were very handy and smart. In the early 20thcentury, the family left Riga for Viljandi [150 km east of Tallinn], a small beautiful town in Estonia. A long time ago Viljandi was called ‘little Switzerland’ because of the hills, woods and a beautiful hanging bridge.
Everybody in my mother’s family spoke Yiddish. I don’t think my grandparents were very religious, but they observed Jewish traditions, went to the synagogue and celebrated Jewish holidays at home. They also raised their children Jewish.
My maternal grandparents had a traditional Jewish wedding. After the wedding they moved to Riga. My grandfather earned his living by making hats, while my grandmother gave birth to their children. She had ten, but five died in infancy. One of those who survived was my mother’s sister Dora, born in 1894. My mother Sheina was the next child. She was called Zhenny in the family. She was born in 1896. After my mother, her brother Rachmil was born, and the next one was Naum. The youngest in the family was Alexandr, born in 1907. My mother told me that though all the children in the family were different, they were hardworking, cheerful and could sing very well. My aunts and uncles could make their own clothes and cook. Actually, there was hardly anything they couldn’t do. They were very handy and smart. In the early 20thcentury, the family left Riga for Viljandi [150 km east of Tallinn], a small beautiful town in Estonia. A long time ago Viljandi was called ‘little Switzerland’ because of the hills, woods and a beautiful hanging bridge.
Everybody in my mother’s family spoke Yiddish. I don’t think my grandparents were very religious, but they observed Jewish traditions, went to the synagogue and celebrated Jewish holidays at home. They also raised their children Jewish.
Remembering my father, I think that his family was religious and observed Jewish traditions. At least, my father was religious and knew the Jewish history and traditions well. I think he was well-educated in this respect when he was a child.
During World War I my father served in the tsarist army at the front. He was involved in combat action and was shell-shocked at the front. Regretfully, I have no idea how my father happened to move to Estonia after the war. All I know is that many of those involved in World War I stayed in Estonia and started their families here.
During World War I my father served in the tsarist army at the front. He was involved in combat action and was shell-shocked at the front. Regretfully, I have no idea how my father happened to move to Estonia after the war. All I know is that many of those involved in World War I stayed in Estonia and started their families here.
Elina Falkenshtein
I have lived an interesting and satisfying life with my husband. We traveled much around Russia, but we always remembered that our roots lay in Latvia. As a matter of fact, when our children were teenagers, we often took them to Lutzin and Rezekne so that they would know where their ancestors came from. My husband and I try to keep Jewish traditions in our household, remembering and celebrating every Jewish holiday.
When, at the beginning of the 1950s, the attacks against cosmopolitans [see campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’] [2] and the Doctors’ Plot [3] began, my father was forced to leave his work; he was probably asked to leave. By this time Papa had become the head of a large corporation. He was dismissed from the Communist Party. During these days, in one of the rooms of our big, seven-bedroom apartment from before the war, there was a stove, which we ‘fed’ all 30 volumes of a pre-war edition of Dubnow’s [4] body of work. I can still see Mama, or Papa, I don’t remember who, throwing volumes into the stove. The cover of that edition was white and someone had cut out the title and author so that, if the NKVD [5] should happen to come by, they wouldn’t know the author. We had many, many books in Russian, Yiddish and Hebrew.
After the war, when we lived in Riga, my family didn’t observe Jewish religious traditions. Did the Soviet government influence us? No. It was simply that my parents were very intelligent, educated people who were also democratically inclined. They were well versed in Jewish culture and writers. Our house was often filled with interesting people; there were meetings that took place even before the war.
The most interesting thing was that Papa taught me how to read and write in Yiddish. I might not know certain words, but I can basically write in Yiddish. And when, not long ago, it was time to learn Hebrew, everyone was amazed at how easily it came to me; I didn’t even mix up the letters. In 1948 Papa brought home the big children’s book, Kvitko [1], in which, for each word, there was a poem in Yiddish. Of course I speak less and less now, but I understand songs. I simply have no time to study and keep up the language. In fact, even today, in the Jewish school where I work, there isn’t a teacher of Yiddish. But when, in the 1980s, everything changed, when everything became possible, then it seemed that I was ready for it because inside I knew a lot already. My Papa simply told me about everything without a religious overtone.
My husband, Yevgenii Mikhailovich Falkenshtein, was born in 1931. He is from Rezekne, [until 1917, it was part of Pskov region, today it’s in Latvia]. He is Jewish, a radio engineer and former officer in the Soviet army, although now retired.
I have two children. My daughter Marina was born in 1957. She graduated from the Latvian University, the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics, with a degree in programming. She now works as an elementary school teacher in the Jewish school in Riga. My son Leonid was born in 1959. He also graduated from the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics of the Latvian University. Now he has his own business: a sales firm.
I have two children. My daughter Marina was born in 1957. She graduated from the Latvian University, the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics, with a degree in programming. She now works as an elementary school teacher in the Jewish school in Riga. My son Leonid was born in 1959. He also graduated from the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics of the Latvian University. Now he has his own business: a sales firm.