[Page 57]

This chapter describes life in the shtetl, as remembered decades later, with love a warmth and nostalgia. We retained the characteristics of the material although some details are mentioned repeatedly, and the style is loose and personal. Some of those who contributed their memoirs were very young at the time they lived in Riteve, before leaving it for other countries. Their anger and pain over the killing of their families by the Germans and the Lithuanians during the Holocaust made them all the more regard the Jews of Riteve as martyrs of a holy, exemplary community.

DP

Our town, which was destroyed by the oppressor, was noted not only for its rabbinical scholars, but also for its ordinary folk: its righteous ones, its shoemakers, tailors, butchers, bakers and peddlers.

Riteve did not have the resources to develop industry and commerce, which would have provided employment for its inhabitants. There were various shops in the town, but most of the shopkeepers made a meagre living. The shopkeepers would sit in their shops for hours awaiting customers. In the winter they would be wrapped up in warm coats and on the counter would be a pot of burning coals. When their hands and feet froze from the cold, they would walk around in their shops to keep warm. Only on market days was there great activity.

A number of Jews lived from peddling. All week they would travel around the villages with haberdashery, coloured yarns, kerchiefs and cloth. Frequently they were not paid in cash, but would receive eggs, chickens, mushrooms, skins and pigs' hair from the farmers in exchange. The craftsmen were mostly shoemakers and tailors, some of whom, being skilled in their craft, made only new garments. Others took care of the needs of farmers in the district, working less meticu–

[Page 58]

A wedding group from Riteve taken in the early 1930s. Harry Singer Collection

Miriam Tsvik and Sarah Yavoski (see recollections on pages 57 et seq. and 72 respectively) were sisters of Zalman Leib and Alter Levite and both made Aliyah to Israel. This photograph was taken with the pupils Miriam taught, on a cold winter's day some months before she left in April 1933, together with another teacher, Frieda Levinson. No indication of their placing was provided in the original book and it has proved impossible to identify them with certainty.

lously. There were also carpenters and plasterers, blacksmiths who took care of the horseshoes, cart wrights, and even one photographer.¹ On market days, the farmers brought their products and their craft work to town, the market being the main source of income for the Jews.²

The Jews of Riteve, especially members of the older generation, were mainly graduates of the cheder and the Beit Midrash, and led their lives according to the teachings of the Torah. This gave content to their lives, and moulded the image of a whole Jewish generation which lived its daily life according to the Mitzvot. Every Jew knew that upon rising in the morning, his first duty was to go to the synagogue to pray with a minyan and then to read some chapters of the Psalms. Later he would eat and only then turn to his business. As evening fell, he would again go to the synagogue to take part in the Mincha and Maariv prayers. After the evening prayers, he would study chapters of the Mishnah and Ein Yaacov (Agadah) and peruse a page of Talmud. Even where the religious hold was somewhat weakened³ community life still retained a strong sense of traditional observance. This feature of their lives was especially marked on the Sabbath and festivals.

The qualities of mercy and care for the needy, so deeply rooted in our peoples tradition, found expression in the establishment of various charitable and communal organisations. I remember from my youth that young girls were sent to spend the night in the homes of the sick so as to give members of the family some respite. This service was performed by pairs of girls, or two women or men, as the need dictated. If the family of a sick woman needed help with the children during the day, this service was also arranged. This organisation was called Linat Tzedek – a righteous overnight stay – and it was a social welfare group whose help was very practical and valuable.

Parallel to the Linat Tzedek was the Bikkur Cholim – visits to the sick – which saw to material assistance for those who were ill. It provided medical care, both in the form of paying the doctors' bills or for medical appliances. It is impossible to evaluate the services of these groups. They deserve to be remembered for their outstanding devotion to the care o' the less fortunate. There were no hospitals or nurses. A sick person lay in hi; bed at home and his overworked wife had to shoulder the burden of caring for the children, the household and the patient. Or, if the wife was ill, the father was burdened with the domestic responsibilities as well as the demands of his work. The members of these social welfare groups would volunteer their services wholeheartedly. Dr. Pikin frequently gave his services free of charge. If a family was in need he would leave an anonymous gilt of money to provide for their needs. He did this even for non– Jews and was known to be a generous and compassionate man. His only daughter lives in South Africa. The chairman of Linat Tzedek was Meir Hon. “Meir the Meirer ”. Miriam Zaltsman chaired the women's group and Reb Moshe Aharon Heyman the Bikkur Cholim.

Torah students formed the Chevra Gemara group. In the mornings their sweet

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voices could be heard from afar. In the synagogue the Riteve Jew found peace of mind and it was here that he gathered the strength to enable him to overcome life's difficulties. Here he would pour out his grief before his Creator and here he would rejoice in his moments of pleasure and cry in his agony. Among those who zealously attended the synagogue and the Beit Midrash was my late father, Reb Dov Ber Joseph, and his co–student of Torah – Reb Feivel Udwin. Both of them were blind. They had learnt pages of the Gemara and Mishnah by heart, as if they had foreseen their fate.

In the Riteve cemetery, many righteous and G–d–fearing people found their eternal rest. The Chevra Kadisha (burial society) was well organised. It was headed by the beadle, the late Aharon Ben Dov Zaacks, assisted by Moshe Galaun and Mordecai Isaac Segal. The women's society was headed by Ida Yanke Dovar and Feige Rachel Hirshowitz, assisted by Sheva Katz Mcyerowitz who was a true ‘woman of valour’. She looked after the Mikveh (ritual bath) and introduced modern improvements to the bath house. These women also supervised the sewing of shrouds. Shmucl Zvi Zaltsman, one of the prominent men in the town, a timber merchant, provided firewood to heat the houses of the poor. The synagogue manager was Nachum Saks.

Our town throbbed with life and creativity. On Sabbaths, we would gather at the synagogue to listen to lectures and readings by Ema Orbach. Emigrants from Riteve who had settled abroad did not forget their kin at home and some, like the family of Amula Todres who settled in the USA, used to send gifts of money twice a year towards the Matzot Fund for Pesach for helping the poor to heat their homes.⁴

Can one ever forget a wedding day in Riteve? It was a holiday for the whole town. Everyone, invited or not, knew the hour of the ceremony and all came to watch. The ceremony took place in an area between the ‘Di–Shul’ synagogue, a very attractive wooden structure, and the Beit Midrash. The couple would be accompanied on the route by fcfeizmcrim (folk musicians). I remember the conductor whose name was ‘Liba the Musician’ – he also played the violin. The weddings were usually held on Fridays. On the Sabbath the meals took place at the bride's home, and at the conclusion of the Sabbath, the celebrations were resumed. All the young folk came to juin in the wedding festivities with dancing. Everyone there paid towards the musicians' fee. Wealthy people provided free music'. After the ceremony, the happy couple would return to their house and Mina, nicknamed ‘the Kitkah’, would lead a welcoming dance with a kiikah (a sweet, plaited challah for Sabbath) held high in her hand.

I remember the wedding of the eldest daughter of Zlatta and Monash. The Sabbath meal was in our house. We weic the hosts to all the out–of–town guests, who spent the night in our house. My dear late mother was a pious lady. Before the meal, she asked the guests to permit my father to say the Kiddush over the wine, since, she said, no one had ever said the Kiddush in our home except our

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‘Scrolls are burnt and letters burst forth’ The beautiful town of Riteve on the occasion of the funeral of the Shemot (damaged religious texts which contain the Holy Name) in 5695 (1934 or 1935)

In the original book, the caption read: ‘Members (gaba'im) of Chevra Kadisha (Burial Society) after the burial of the Torah strolls and the Shemot.’

father. This was a gesture on the part of my mother not to embarrass the in–laws. So my lather performed the Kiddush in place ol the father ol the bride.

I remember, too, the day of the Balfour Declaration.⁵ How great was the joy in the town. Everyone went to great trouble to have a Hebrew flag of cloth or paper flying from his house. All morning we were busy rehearsing national songs, which we had learnt by heart. One of the songs was ‘Carry a Flag to Zion’ and another, ‘Let all of us rejoice together’. We, the schoolchildren, were all dressed in festive clothes and we wore blue and white sashes from our shoulders to our hips. We all assembled at the appointed time on the corner of Plungyan Street and, under Lasovsky's direction, we marched to Memel Street. We halted at the house of Rabbi Avraham Shimon Geffen and his wife Lyova. Their veranda was festooned with flowers and a carpet. Here the towns leadership gathered, the late Dr Pikin, Mr Prisman, who was the representative of the Keren Kayemet (the Jewish National Fund lor buying land), Joseph Udwin, Samuel Saks, Mr Ehlin, the bank manager, Shima Verkul and Alter Levite. We began the assembly with Hatikvah. Then there were speeches. The chief speaker was Rabbi Geffen who lives at present with his family in Israel. The enthusiasm was very great – quite indescribable!

In recounting a small part of my recollections of Riteve, I would not be wrong in saying that it was like all the other small towns in Jewish Lithuania. Yet the special combination of its inhabitants was outstanding One might have imagined that a talented director had placed each one in his particular place and allotted him his special role. The town, its landscape, its alleyways, its streets are closely linked with its personalities – with its vibrant Zionist youth, thirsty for knowledge and enlightenment. In the Hebrew school,⁶ where I had the honour to serve as a teacher and supervisor, singing was frequent and important cultural work was abundant. Thus the pupils absorbed basic values regarding the heritage and the spirit of the Jewish people.

The school conducted various Zionist activities. There were parent/teacher meetings and public demonstrations of a Zionist nature on Lag BaOmer and other festivals. An atmosphere of love and respect was cultivated for the Hebrew society and the pioneering achievements in Eretz Israel. The pupils showed great interest in their studies, and both teachers and pupils worked in an atmosphere of pleasure and devotion to duty. The community library was exceptional. The students were keen readers of the thousands of volumes.

All these memories indicate that our youth in Riteve was not one of oppression. On the contrary, a golden light illuminated all our activities. However, at the edge of the town, among the dwellings of the gentiles, hatred seethed. This led us to cling together in order to protect ourselves. However, a frightful storm finally broke and knew no bounds.

How beautiful were those days! How great was my love for my town! I was bound to you with every fibre of my being and. to this day, your memory is very dear. May this tribute be a garland on the graves of our innocent martyrs.

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If one looks ai Riteve and wishes to measure it by the criteria of today, it might seem as if it were in the process of decline. In Israel today every remote village has attained a much higher cultural standard when compared with small Lithuanian towns like Riteve. But we shall be doing an injustice by comparing. Before the Second World War most of the countries of Eastern Europe were in a backward state and Lithuania in particular. The large cities did boast cultural institutions, but the villages were stuck in a state of decline. There was no state assistance to help them culturally and economically. In Riteve many young people without means of livelihood depended on their father's charity when often he himself was badly off.

I often wonder whence came the wealth of spirit in backward Riteve which sustained the youth of those days. Perhaps they were more vibrant then, alert and involved in everything going on around them. Or perhaps it was the material poverty which awakened our spiritual resources and our dedication to values of simplicity. The youth drew their spiritual values from the Hebrew school nurtured by the labour of a devoted group of teachers.⁷ There were no financial means, the teachers were not qualified and premises were also lacking. I remember the landlady whose house accommodated the school on the second floor. She made the children's lives a misery because of the noise of their activities. It required much faith and willpower to maintain the school on a regular basis. I remember that we, the pupils, used to go and collect weekly contributions from the townsfolk for a new school building. Eventually a school building was built with the help of the pennies they had contributed. The school contained a few classrooms and only two of them were finally completed. The school and its teachers imparted to the pupils the values which we have preserved to this very day and for this we are very grateful.

Memories of light and shade come to mind when I recall Riteve and its personalities. I shall never forget this period of my life. Generally one remembers one's youth with recollections of innocence and beauty. One remembers the most sublime moments of ones life and these memories are never erased. Now that I have brought up my sons, I see myself once again as I was at their age. I tell my children at every possible opportunity of our life then, which had so much meaning for us because of our aspirations to build a national home for our oppressed people. With what seriousness and dedication we devoted ourselves to this

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hallowed aim. It expressed itself in limitless devotion and hard work on many fronts. This is a story in its own right – the story of the Chalutzim– the pioneers who came from Riteve.

I wish to describe only one of the humane efforts of the ordinary folk of the town. I was only able to understand it in all its complexity 25 years later. This was the spirit of mutual aid which nourished among the people. For example, poor families with many children were helped by their better–off neighbours so as to avoid the shame of poverty. The help was given anonymously, in order, once again, to avoid pain and humiliation. Which home did not extend hospitality to a yeshiva student for one day a week, or sometimes more, on a full board basis?⁸ Hosting a guest on Shabbat was a common practice. Donations to the Jewish National Fund were also the rule. Even the poor contributed to those donations. How sad it is that all these wonderful people and the special ambience of Riteve were destroyed forever. I am one of those who will remember Riteve for as long as I live.

Riteve is before my eyes, Riteve which was destroyed so cruelly by the Nazi murderers. Riteve and all those people so dear to me pass through my mind and are deeply rooted in my heart. Parents, brothers, sisters, still live in my innermost being forever. The young and the old – I remember you all and feel your presence.

I remember, too, the streets and their lovely houses and the vitality which surged through them. The adult members of the community would spend their leisure time at the Beit Midrash where they found spiritual relief from their burdens. They would immerse themselves in the Book of Psalms with great enthusiasm and be refreshed from the days toil.

In another corner, groups would be studying a page of the Gemara with all us Halachic and Agadic polemic. In so doing they would rise above and divert themselves from the pressures of a hostile environment. The youth who had rebelled against the Beit Midrash and the exilic outlook were preparing themselves for a new life in Eretz Israel. In order to achieve this purpose they organised themselves in various societies. They also aspired to improve the life of the local townsfolk while encouraging them to emigrate to Eretz Israel. How tragic it was that young and old. mothers and babies, were all murdered by the Nazi hordes in the woods near Riteve.

We who were so greatly privileged to be rescued and to reach a safe refuge will retain your memory in our hearts and souls forever. We will not forget!

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The only information about the Dramatic Circle in Riteve in the orginal book consists of a bare mention in the text with the names of some of the members and this photograph, probably taken in the early 1930s

Shimon Friedman, who died on 18th February 1975 before the original book was pubiished

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My town was a locked and enchanted garden. Here (in Israel in Kibbutz Kfar Masarik) I wander through the paths of my green village. All around flowers blossom and sun–tanned children frolic on the green grass where sprinklers dance. The children's houses are alive with joy.

Each morning, while the dew is still on the ground, the tall trees seem to announce jubilantly: ‘See how we have sprouted and grown.’ I stand amazed at nature's wonders and a prayer wells up in my heart. How beautiful and exalted is this tranquillity and this home which we have built. How wonderful that it fell to our fate to live here.

More than any other memories of my youth, memories of the landscape are imprinted on my mind. From my first day here (in Israel) I strove to create around me something of the landscape of my beloved youth. We would come from a distance on a wagon. Mother would point out to us the spire of the church, rising high in the pink evening sky. In my mind, the beloved scenes, both good and bad, are deeply embedded and remain vivid in my memory to this day.

Here is our house – a wooden house. It was surrounded on all aides by fruit trees and flowerbeds, which we cultivated with care. Mother would watch for every leaf and bud and she drew strength from them. At Pesach time, the signs of spring would be felt – a new moon, and a bright night light; the snow and ice melt and disappear. Mother goes out into the garden, removing pieces of ice from the trees, and behold, delicate buds sprout forth hesitantly, emerging into the world. In the evenings and in the mornings, I hear apples falling to the ground with a thump, and we go out to collect them. We also had vegetable beds and from all this we gained much pleasure and joy.

A little distance away flowed the River Yureh with its clear waters. We would skip through the fields and run barefoot through the colourful undergrowth, hiding among the tall and sweet–smelling young shoots. We were dizzy from the light of the sun and the perfumes all around us. We swam and paddled endlessly. We could not have our fill. Summer draws to a close, clouds gather and light rain falls intermittently, but we do not give up. We would run and dip in the water again and again.

The park was the pearl of the town. Many memories of its beautiful hiding places remain with me. One went through an iron gate above which two big lions with open mouths kept watch. On the right there was a well–loved windmill; on the left, the lake, tranquil and surrounded by thick growth, where could be found the secret places of many living creatures. Each bird had its unique call and the croaking of frogs could be heard from afar.

I found for myself a secret place among the tall dense trees where, with my

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book on my lap. I could forget reality and dream. How easy it was then to dream of a beautiful, good world, since all you had to do was to stretch out your hand and it was yours for the taking. I here was a Lovers' Lane too, where the buds of first love flourished.

At the narrow stream's edge, blue and white flowers called ‘Remember me’ grew. We would bnng them home damp and fresh in honour of Shavuot. We would arrange them around a smooth stone in a white vase and at night the buds would open and light up like a blue flame. There were many wonderful and unforgettable paths to which we would constantly return. We strolled among fruit trees, but only picked the fruit that fell to the ground. The red raspberry bushes dropped wine and we enjoyed its sweet juice.

The great dark forest was enveloped in mystery. Where did it begin and where did it end? The forest was dense with tress and plants intertwined. Bright stones and great rocks were scattered among the rich growth. When one tramped through the undergrowth in the forest, it was as if one had penetrated another world, a world of fantasy, where one was hypnotised and far removed from reality. All the legends and tales of wonder, of good and bad spints, appeared before ones eyes and one lelt as if they had been created because of this forest alone. We would listen to the secret sounds of the forest while enthusiastically picking blueberries.

The centre of the town had a round area paved with smooth stones. Here the village gentiles would gather to sell their produce – butter of various sorts wrapped in fresh, green leaves, all kinds of fruit and sweetmeats. The villagers would get drunk while their horses and carts were tethered to poles. Drunken yells would pierce the air so that it was frightening to be out of doors.

I would pass the open door of the church with all its religious objects and experience great fear. It seemed as if a long arm would stretch out towards you and …! We would walk beside the little lake alongside the church, which was surrounded by an ornamental iron fence. Every now and then we would take courage and peep through the iron fence to see what was taking place inside. How mysterious did their faith seem, whereas ours was so close and accessible. All I had to do was to enter the synagogue and I was at one with the congregation and could imbibe the atmosphere of a festival. I believed that everything I prayed for would be granted speedily. It was all so simple and good for the soul.

Although I was aware of the many shadows when I became a young adult and although there was seriousness and even a measure of sadness in the atmosphere at home, yet this did not cloud the good and beautiful things and the wonderful experiences of those years. How deeply engraved in my heart and how enchanted will they remain till the end of my days. The words of a poem have captured my heart:

Only about myself I knew to tell.
My world is narrow like that of an ant.?⁹

Footnotes

1. After the First World War most of the Lithuanian Jews were engaged in small trade or in small factories and workshops. During the inter–war period many of them were ousted from their positions by Lithuanians. This was the calculated policy of the Lithuanian government, carried out very aggressively by members of the Verslininka, the association of Lithianian traders and craftsmen. The Jewish community in Riteve was also affected by this anti–Semetic policy and many Jewish traders were deprived of their livelihood. Return
2. The small trade in trie market was the main source of income for the many Jews in villages and small towns in Lithuania. During the inter–war penod the traditional role of Jews in the trade of agricultural products was rapidly reduced. The government initiated the formation of huge co–operatives which attained systematic control over this economic field. Return
3. The ideas of the Haskalah (Enlightenment) had already begun to spread among Jews in Lithuania by the beginning of the 19^th century. Towards the end of that century and the beginning of the 20^th century new secular ideologies penetrated the Jewish communities: Socialist ideas, advocated mainly by the Bund on the one hard and the Zionist views on the other. Return
4. Between 1928 and 1938 about 14 000 Jews emigrated from Lithuania. Most of them went to South Africa. Only 10.8 percent settled in the United States. Return
5. The ‘Balfour Declaration’ was issued by Lord AJ Balfour the British Foreign Minister, to Lord Rothschild and the Zionist federation on 2 November 1917. The British government declared its readiness to View with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people. Return
6. The Hebrew school for girls in Riteve was part of the Yavneh school system. There were three Jewish school systems in Lithuania during the inter–war period:
   1. Tarbut which was Zionist–orientated;
   2. Yidishist schools for the Socialist trend;
   3. Yavneh, the religious traditional schools.
   In the Tarbur and the Yavneh schools, the language of instruction was Hebrew The Yavneh educational system was established through the initiative of bothe ‘Mizrachi’ – the religious – Zionist party and ‘Agudat– Israel’ the non–Zionist religious movement Thepedagogical concept of the Yavneh system was based on integration between Jewish religious education and general knowledge. Return
7. Every Jewish school in Lithuania was connected to one of the Jewish school systems, yet they were established as a result of the initiative and effort of the local community. Return
8. ‘To eat days’ – a very common custom in Jewish communities. Yeshiva students were given free and full board in various houses during the week, generally every day in a different home. Return
9. Quoted from one of the best known poems of the poetess Rachel. Rachel Blauslein was among the first of the modern Hebrew poets in Eretz Israel. She was born in Saratov in northern Russia in 1831. In 1909, during the second Aliyalt, she emmigrated to Palestine. She become a pioneer and settled in Kinneret. During the First World War she contracted tuberculosis and spent the rest of her lile in hospitals. This poem, which begins with the words ‘Only about myself I knew to tell’, was written by Rachel in 1913, a year before her death and became a symbol of personal modesty, which is here akin to the modesty of Riteve. Return

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