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The city of Volkovysk excelled in the area of Torah study. A significant part of the Jewish population knew that it was an obligation to set aside time for Torah study. Torah was studied – whether alone, or – with assistance from a Rabbi. The first Volkovysk Jewish cooperative effort that was founded on a spiritual basis, on the basis of public Torah study. Even the ordinary, simple Jews had their own house of study, the Bet HaMedrash, Ein Yaakov, where they studied Torah daily – from before sunrise, and later, between Mincha and Maariv. The Mishna was studied, as were Chayei Adam and Ein Yaakov. Because of this, Volkovysk had rather simple Jews, such as Moshe the Izvoshchik^[1] who had a good grasp of the Mishna, and was capable of posing difficult questions during study, that would cause the leader of the study group to struggle for an answer; or the righteous Ephraim, the Carpenter, to whom the Dayan of the city, Rabbi Gaon Reb Tuvia Ravitzky, came once for a blessing, to pray that his son would be excused from military conscription. And there were many such tradespeople among the Jews in Volkovysk, but who were good students and whose roots were in the common people.

By contrast in the more prominent Mauer Synagogue, or the Wooden Synagogue, they didn't rely on study leaders. Mishna, Shas – this was warmup stuff for them. In those houses of study, everything was studied – and the great scholars of the era studies there, such as the previously mentioned Dayan, The Gaon Rabbi Tuvia – or as he was called Reb Teveleh – who was formidably accomplished in Torah study, and in addition possessed an unerring logic that enabled him to innovate interpretations to the Torah, and Reb Joel Azriel Shishatsky, about whom I will write more extensively here.

Reb Joel Azriel Shishatsky was blessed with two good characteristics: an unusual memory,. and a passion for scholarship. It was therefore natural that he became an unusually fluent scholar in the Shas, with Tosafot and commentaries. He studied everything and knew everything. In matters that were subject to opinion, even the city Dayan, Rabbi Tuvia, would turn to Reb Joel Azriel with questions. Reb Joel Azriel had only one shortcoming – he never appreciated his own importance, and therefore only a limited number of people knew to respect him properly. Most people didn't even know him by name, but rather as the son-in-law of Ephraim Hirscheleh the flour storekeeper. Indeed, this is how he made a living, and even though our Sages hold that there is a connection between Torah and flour, with him it was the reverse case – he had much Torah, but little flour. In order to buy flour, you need money, and by him, this article was always in short supply. He lived almost his entire life on good-will donations. When he would receive any such contribution, he would give it to his wife, Feyge, in order that she should go home, leaving the cold store and cook something to eat. During the later hours, he himself could be found in the Wooden Synagogue, sunken deeply in thick volumes, where he found his World of Today together with his World to Come.

It was only in his later years, under my influence and that of other supporters, did Reb Joel Azriel develop more

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popularity in the city, and was even accorded the title of “The Rabbi.” He was once persuaded, against his will, to ascend the Bimah, and deliver a lecture on the occasion of the completion of a tractate of the Talmud, that lasted a full two hours, and was distinguished by its great thoroughness, and with innovative insights. Despite this, he remained largely in obscurity.

Reb Moshe The Greek from the Grodno Gasse was an interesting personality, or as he was called, Reb Moshe Tzigelnik, because he was engaged in the manufacture of bricks. The nickname, “The Greek” followed him since the time that he was a soldier.

I first met him in the Mauer Bet HaMedrash, when he was already an older man. He was known as a stern man in the Bet HaMedrash, but in the city, he was known rather as a man of unusually good character. In the Bet HaMedrash, he was severely critical of anyone who made a mistake in the repetition of the prayers or in the reading of the Torah, but consequently, he was distinguished in his daily life by his goodness and his concern for the poor. He would ride around in his little wagon from house to house, gathering bread and food on behalf of the poor of the city, especially for those who lived on his street, which was a residential center for the poor.

The city knew little of his affairs. During his illness, from which he later died, I visited him several times, and it was only then that I became acquainted with the remarkable story of his life, especially his youth.

When he was a boy of eight, the khappers was very active in the city. Children were kidnaped from the home of their parents, and sent to faraway places, where they would be raised as soldiers from early childhood on.^[2] Those responsible for raising these children, would also make a considerable effort to convert these victims. To this end, they would utilize the most terrifying forceful measures against the stubborn children, who did not want to submit of their own free will. Reb Moshe Tzigelnik, who was one of the kidnaped young victims, belonged to the class of the stubborn boys, and because of this, he had to endure seven circles of hell in his struggle against conversion. Once, he told me, he was taken into a hot bathhouse, where the heat was fierce. He was driven with whips to the highest bench, where it was unbearably hot, in order to impress upon him the need to convert. A simple consent to conversion would have liberated him from all these tortures. Reb Moshe Tzigelnik bore the tribulation, and refused to accept conversion. Once – Reb Moshe Tzigelnik presented in his narrative – The terrifying torture had such an effect on him, that for a moment, he said to himself, that if he is tortured one more time, he will submit. A while later, he thought it over, and just a thought of that nature was a terrible sin, and he began to bang his head against the wall: No! A thousand times, no! However, to his great fortune, this turned out to be the last time that he went through these terrifying persecutions. From that time on, he was left alone, and not tortured to accept conversion.

Years later, he ended up at the age of 18 as a soldier in Vilna. At his first opportunity, he went into one of the synagogues there, and when he opened up a prayer book, he did not know how to read it: from right to left, or the opposite. He then developed an interest in the study of the Torah.

He received a nice funeral after he died, and he was eulogized, in which his martyrdom on behalf of the Jewish faith was intoned.

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Reb Aaron Leib Friedenberg (Leib Ohreh der Melamed)

Reb Aaron Leib Friedenberg was better known in the city as Reb Leib Ohreh der Melamed. Reb Leib Ohreh lived like a saint. Jews from all walks of life both honored and respected him greatly, because he was a man of great integrity and was a doer of good deeds.

He was a man with a force for getting things done, even if in small measure. In his youth, he worked at tanning leather. During the initial years of the First World War, during the German occupation, when it was difficult to obtain flour products, Reb Leib Ohreh constructed a small mill in his own home, consisting of two stones, which he turned with his own hands until he produced a little flour. When there was no soap in the city, he personally produced soap, which came out as hard as stone. The principal thing was his innovativeness. But, all of these business ventures brought him no good luck, and he turned to teaching. He opened a Heder, where he taught Tanakh and beginner's Gemara. In a short time, he developed a good reputation as a teacher. His system of teaching was quite different from the conventional approaches of the time, because he had a different approach to the issue of educating the younger generation. Above all, the child must grow into an adult with good manners, it must know how to speak properly among people, how to respect one's parents, and how to comport oneself in general. It is for this reason, that during the initial period, Reb Leib Ohreh dedicated time to the ‘Torah’ of good manners, how to behave at the table, etc. Children spent an entire day in his Heder. Lunch had to be brought into the Heder, in order to permit Reb Leib Ohreh to see that his lessons in table manners were being properly followed. He would not content himself with this, and every Sabbath at midday, he would come to visit a different child at his home, to see with his own eyes, how the child behaves at the table, how he addresses the members of the household, and how he eats. Apart from this, Reb Leib Ohreh dedicated much time to the analysis of a student's character, and at the end, he would give his opinion as to what type of work or profession he felt would be best suited for the child, as well as his prospects for success in life. His predictions would later be seen to have been correct.

Reb Leib Ohreh was the only teacher of his time who did not hit his students. The most severe punishment in his class was to get rapped with is rod across the hands. He was an impressive scholar, and taught with great zest and understanding, always underscoring the importance of the relationship of man to his fellow man.

He was never mindful of the implications for income, despite his great popularity as a teacher, but rather with the implications for charity, for which he was always among the first to give. Because of his penury, one didn't approach him for contributions. But he had a certain position, and immediately after Sukkot, he would personally come to the Gabbaim of the synagogues with his generous donations for clothing of the naked, for the old age home, and other institutions.

Translator's footnotes:

1. An Izvoshchik is the person who tends the horses and hitches them to a wagon. Return
2. This was a consequence of the infamous anti-Semitic ukase of Czar Nicholas I, who saw this as a means to foster a breakdown and assimilation of the Jewish community into the body of the Russian masses. Return

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The Train Station (Ulica Kolejowa) Street in Zamoscheh

The Train Station (Ulica Kolejowa) Street in Zamoscheh (Going from the Station to the City)

Zamoscheh was a separate republic, with its own Bet HaMedrash, and a separate local life. It was a long street with a number of smaller side streets, surrounded by swamp on one side, and on the second side – by the rail line. And indeed, it was for this reason that the main street was called ‘Vogzalnoye’ by the Russians, and by the Germans (in 1915) Banhofstrasse, and Kolejowa – by the Poles. Zamoscheh started at the first bridge (going from the city, naturally). Between the two bridges, on one side, stood the smithy of Yankel der Schmid – a Jew with a sweaty beard that even on the holidays, he was unable to wash out the soot from the smithy, – and on the second side (the left), stood Tevkeh's smithy, which was some piece of work, a smithy even a light wind would blow through it, and it would get washed away in every flood…

Tevkeh himself was a small, thin Jewish man, with a short beard. When he got angry, you could think that he was out to destroy the world, but that's not what happened. He worked hard, day and night, in his smithy, with his wife, who assisted him with the heavy work.

After the second bridge, there were bogs on both sides of the street, overgrown with tall grasses, with ahir, as it was called, which we would go and tear up to decorate the house for Shavuot. From the street you could see a large park-like area, in the middle of which stood a small store, and

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afterwards a large garden, where radishes and cucumbers were planted in the summertime. Coming to the second side of the park area, one could see a low little building, its windows almost at ground level, its roof with many holes, and the walls dripped. We had to live there, what choice was there? … Our father, for all his days, was chronically short of money, never having any real way to make a living, he would run around from place to place asking for a handout, and very often he never had the sixpence coin to give me for my daily allowance in Heder… He could never break free from his bad luck. Once, a long time ago, when I was still a baby, he took a chance and went to Odessa, to find his fortune, leaving the family without means. But in a while afterwards, he returned even more defeated, yet poorer.

Immediately after his wedding, my father became an elementary level teacher. As if through a dream, I recall a big room with many benches, where a mass of children would be seated. They were from all of Zamoscheh, boys and girls together. There were rich and poor children among them. Even the wealthy people, the Blochs, sent their children to him – Sioma Gallin, Dworetsky and others. Everyone sat and learned the Aleph-Bet, and afterwards absorb Hebrew. Even after he had exchanged his Heder for a small pot store, after the Sabbath, the older girls would come to learn Hebrew, girls who were already gymnasium students, girls from well-to-do families, such as the Tarmas and Chana Ditkovsky, with whom I traveled in the Zelva train to Russia in 1920. They would come every Sabbath, recite some Hebrew from the prayer book, and then leave. In those days, every Jew took on himself a responsibility that even his daughters had to be able to recite prayers.

Our mother was a skillful, quiet Jewish lady, who had no quarrels with anyone. She wouldn't even harm a fly on the wall, but because of this, she waged a bitter war with poverty… The struggle was particularly keen on the eve of the Sabbath, or the eve of a festival, and especially on the eve of Passover… in the Synagogue she would pour her heart out completely on Yom Kippur during the Yizkor services.

Across from us lived the Rutchiks – Feygl Bash'keh's with the family. She was a Woman of Valor, who assumed the burden of working for a living, raising her children, and making decent people out of them. She kept her children close to her like a mother hen, and in their newly-constructed house, provided each of them with a place to live. Feygl Bash'keh's had other skills in addition to this: she could apply bonkes^[1] and in general provide healing for a variety of ailments. If somebody didn't feel well, one would immediately say: “We need to call in Feygl Bash'keh's.” This quite remarkable woman began to print Yiddish songs at the age of seventy (one of her sons, Reuven Rutchik was the editor of the Volkovysker Leben).

Further up the street, there lived almost all Jewish people. Here and there, there was a gentile residence. It was for this reason that the side streets were occupied entirely by Christians. There, it was extremely rare to find a Jewish home. Jews there lived from small-scale commerce, owned stores, and also to a larger degree, lived off the presence of the railroad. That neighborhood was populated by laborers, government-hired contractors, such as the families of Herschel Berg and Leib Kalman Ditkovsky. Among the stores were Moshe'keh Velvel's tavern, the bakeries of Yitzhak Dereczinsky, and Rokh'eh^[2] Siegal, the meat store of Chana Rachel the butcher's wife, and the dairy store of Ahareleh.

Life went on as it did in all Jewish towns. The principal center was the Zamoscheh Bet HaMedrash.

A picture from Zamoscheh prior to the First World War

Entering the Bet HaMedrash, on the right side there was the shtibl, where a supplementary minyan might be

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held, or where one would go to smoke on the holidays, where the Torah was read during Simchat Torah, in order to be able to call people to the Torah as quickly as possible, as was the Simchat Torah custom, and also where one would go off to have a bit of a conversation while the Torah was being read… on the left, was the body of the Bet HaMedrash itself. At the entrance, hung a copper sink, with quite a bit of green patina that had accumulated over its long number of years of existence… over it were shelves of books. There, researchers could find volumes by the Rambam, The Ilfas, The Mishna Berurah, and other books. After the big heating oven on the right, there were several additional closets packed full of books. Here, already, one could find the sets of the Shas, a couple of old editions, and a spanking new edition of the Vilna Shas. Everyone who came to study the Gemara, sought to be able to grab off a volume of the new Vilna Shas from which to learn. A large, circular Bimah (Belemer) stood in the center of the Bet HaMedrash, which was ascended by stairs from both sides. The Genizah, underneath the Bimah was packed full of books and pages deemed unusable.^[3] More than once, I would go rummaging through that place, looking for specific pages of rare books, and also parts of secular books… but the Shammes wouldn't it anyone go very far… to the east stood a nice Holy Ark, with a stand to the side, with all the suitable appurtenances. There was always a large Kol Bo edition of the Siddur on the stand. By the east wall, with its two side walls, there were wide benches arrayed with seats that had been either bought or handed down, with boxes under the sitting place, where prayer shawls were stored, a book and a candle for evening study. Some locked their boxes. At the side of each seat, there was a stand, which came in handy for us wise guys. We would stand them up in a row, one behind the other, and push the first one into the rest, making them fall like dominoes… but we would really catch it from the Shammes if he came upon us during our escapades.

The east side was occupied by the scholars, the Mishna study group and in general, the wealthier folk. Also, the middle and side benches were occupied in this fashion. Moreover to the west side, the seats were occupied by the working people. On the west wall, near the two big heating ovens, there were two large tables with crude benches around them. There, anyone who wanted to could sit, and whoever got there earlier. In wintertime when the frost would rage outside, and the ovens were good and heated up, the eastern wall folks would come over to the oven… remember, it was “first come, first served”… In the Bet HaMedrash there was never any lack of guests, poor people who would go from house to house, and sleep in the Bet HaMedrash. There also never failed to be a resident scholar, who would sit and constantly study, and naturally, also sleep there next to the oven. Frequently, the scholar would stay in the Bet HaMedrash on an irregular basis. On a good day, a young man with the beginnings of a beard might show up, and sometimes an older Jewish man. He would sit down at the table and begin to study. No one asked him who he was, or from whence he came, and certainly not for a passport… he was allowed to study and sleep in peace by the oven, and it was seen to provide him with a bit of food also. The neighborhood women would send in a little bit of prepared food for him, and every Friday a collection was taken up throughout Zamoscheh “ [Sabbath victuals] on behalf of the Resident Scholar.” This was mostly my task, accompanied by Yoss'l Pines (today in Israel). We had a special notebook with a list, and we would not miss a single Jewish house. Everyone gave something, whether a kopeck, a sixpence coin, and others a full tenpence coin… we would occasionally put together a sizeable sum, sometimes almost two rubles… we would immediately turn this over to the Resident Scholar, who would grimace a bit: “it seems like so little.” We were then too young to think through what was going on in the Scholar's heart, and what kind of calculations he was making. Perhaps he was thinking how he would manage to support his erstwhile left-behind family in some other location, on such a small sum…

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From time to time, a Maggid^[4] would visit the Bet HaMedrash. An ordinary itinerant preacher would come in during a weekday, slap a book stand near the holy ark, and announce: “Silence, a preacher is here.” Such a person was not so erudite. He would take hold of a line from the Psalms, or a word from Ecclesiastes. The essential thing was that poverty shouted from every fiber of his being, his hungry family, which he had left somewhere or another… After the Maariv service, he would station himself by the entrance with a small bowl, with a candle by its side, and the departing worshipers would throw him a copper coin. He would make any big ‘income’ from this. A more prominent preacher would command enough attention to give a sermon on the Sabbath. By Friday evening, the worshipers would read, posted to the door of the Bet HaMedrash the already familiar refrain: “…with God's help, tomorrow on the Sabbath…the prominent preacher…will speak…about issues of the day.” Such a preacher was awaited by the community with anticipation. One would get up a little earlier from the Saturday afternoon nap and go with some speed to hear the Maggid. Such a preacher was already a more erudite scholar. In his sermon, he would usually grapple with a concept from the Talmud, stopping at difficult points in the Gemara, and respond to them with a casuistic argument. No bowl was placed at the door, naturally, but on the following day the Maggid, accompanied by a couple of balebatim, would go through Zamoscheh to raise a little money for him…the world-famous preachers would not come to our Bet HaMedrash. When the prominent Maggid Rappaport would come to our city, he would speak only at the Mauer Bet HaMedrash, the biggest one after the Synagogue. One went to hear a Maggid of such stature from all ends of the city, even the girl students at the gymnasium…also the institutional liaison of the Yeshiva Mea Shearim in the Land of Israel would speak in the large Bet HaMedrash. His sermons tended to be Talmudic, and only the scholars would go to hear him. We did not get this caliber of speaker in Zamoscheh…

There were many prayer quorums convened during weekdays, with the working men starting earliest. The wealthier balebatim would not be in such a hurry, and they would pray with the last minyan. And afterwards, they would study a page of the Gemara or a chapter of Mishna. Between afternoon and evening prayers, the elderly Reb Natan would study the Chayei Adam or Ein Yaakov with the community.

The Bet HaMedrash was packed full on Friday nights. There were always plenty of guests, poor people from the surrounding villages, who were always provided with food and lodging for the Sabbath (my father gave a great deal of himself in this connection). On the Sabbath, a part of the congregation prayed at an early first minyan; the second minyan would pray thereafter. At that time, one would see masses of Jews on the city streets coming from their prayers, with their prayer shawls under their arms. A sanctity appeared to have been poured out onto everyone's faces, a deep spirituality… quite often, a group would gather to go have a piece of cake and a shot of whiskey to celebrate a Bar Mitzvah, or a Brit Milah. These celebrations usually took place in the synagogue because our worshipers were Mitnagdim.^[5] Before the afternoon service, Jews would gather back into the Bet HaMedrash – some to study a chapter of the Mishna, and some to engage in conversation, talking about world politics or matters of Jewish concern. Shmuel the Tailor, a simple Jewish man with a large beard, wearing high boots, would gather a clutch of large and small children before nightfall on the Sabbath, and recite the Psalms with them, singing the last chapter with an especially hearty tune.

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After the traditional third Sabbath meal, once again we would return to the Bet HaMedrash to get in a chapter of Psalms before the evening service. We then went home singly. There was no reason to rush. At home, we would then perform the Havdalah service, singing the VeYiten Lekha prayer, and the new week would begin with its day-to-day concerns, with the worry of making a living.

The children and young folks naturally had a different agenda for the Sabbath day. The high-spirited youngsters would carry on competitions – Zamoscheh against the Grodno Gasse, once with the more distant Kholodoisker Gasse, and with the New side street. During the summer Sabbaths, the residents of Zamoscheh along with others from the city, would go to the khmizhnik (young woods). One would have to cross over the railroad tracks, and then you were almost at the little grove. It was there that activity first got underway. The voices of the children carried for considerable distance around the vicinity. The older boys would already be taking walks with the girls, going as far as the Nasip. Others had their organizational meetings, elections, etc.

The Beginning of the Wide Boulevard (On the way from Zamoscheh into the city)

On Rosh Hashanah, we first took to praying and repentance. One truly felt these to be Days of Awe. We did not have far to go to Tashlikh. The little river was only a step or so from us. When we were small, we would peer at the water with great intensity, to determine if it was really filling up with the sins that the Jews shook into it. The Ten Days of Repentance could be discerned on the face of every Jew.

On the Eve of Yom Kippur one could generally see the Jews performing the ritual of Shlogn Kapores, and reciting the accompanying prayer , Bnei Adam, with great conviction. The tumult in the streets was considerable. Jewish women would be carrying the large Yizkor candles from the stores. Others would be going to friends and acquaintances, to exchange sentiments of forgiveness over insults that might have been exchanged during the year, and in passing, take a taste of something, specifically because it was mitzvah to do so on that day. The afternoon service was conducted rather earlier. At the entrance of the Bet HaMedrash, a long table had already been set up full of donation platters from a variety of institutions, for all manner of purposes. And every Jew, even the poorest, made an effort to put something in each platter – ‘Charity will rescues one from death’… to the side, the Shammes stood with a rod in his hand, applying ritual flogging, whipping each of the Jews without regard for whether they were rich or poor, learned or ignorant -- everyone the same, and the same number of strokes. But, it is possible that the rich received a better quality of blows,

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since they paid more… at the final meal before the fast, not a word was spoken. The after meal blessing was recited with greater conviction than usual. One felt that this was no ordinary meal, but rather that one was eating prior to an appearance before the highest tribunal…

The Bet HaMedrash would become packed, having recited the confessional prayer previously in silence, almost internally. The Torah scrolls were removed and carried about, kissing them, reciting the prayer, ‘Or Zaruah…’ until the chanting of the Kol Nidre prayer began. When the [first] words, ‘With the knowledge of the Almighty…’ was recited, a trembling would seize everyone. We would see the Spanish Inquisition before our eyes, and the frightened Marranos and Conversos who gathered secretly in cellars, to pray to the God that they had been forced to abjure…

The Jews in the synagogue barely looked like earthly beings, but rather like creatures of heaven, at a great distance from the worldly affairs of daily life with which they were occupied during the entire year. They were swathed in their kittels,^[6] others with their prayer shawls pulled up over their heads. All around, hundreds of long yahrzeit candles were arrayed. The floor was covered in straw, and when the cantor sang out the words, ‘like clay in the hands of the artist…’ one felt insignificant, so helpless, indeed like the fragile potsherd… when I had begun to ‘sin’ on my own account (that is to say, after Bar-Mitzvah age), I, along with many others, would stay up all night in the synagogue, not even lying down to sleep…

During the entire day of Yom Kippur we did nothing but pray constantly. Sometimes, Hilkeh the Shoemaker would lead the prayer service, an impoverished Jewish man, scrawny, with a scraggly beard, who lived with his elderly wife and grandchild in a ramshackle little house. He would offer his prayers in a broken, tearful voice, pleading for mercy on behalf of all world Jewry.

The wealthy Reb Shlomo Shaul Dworetsky would lead the Musaf service. The walls of the Bet HaMedrash would tremble when he began the Hineni prayer. The Mincha service was mostly led by the Shammes. By the time of the Ne'ilah service, it became more difficult for the participants. We stood at the point where the final seal was to be applied to each individual's fate. An outcry would then truly begin. In a broken voice, the cantor would intone the prayer, ‘Open the gates of heaven…’ it was the end of the day already, of the Day of Judgement. The sun was already far down, sending its last red rays of light on the ground. Outside, it began to get dark, the day was already over. The Maariv service didn't take long, it was gone through quickly. The shofar was blown, and wished for ‘A Good Year’ were exchanged and then we left for home, taking the stubs of the large yahrzeit candles with us. But we didn't run straight home. We still had to bless the New Moon. A Jew doesn't go running after food, even after a long fast.

Sukkot was already a happier holiday, we knew that judgement time was over, and we could make a little merry. On a portion of the houses, branches would ‘grow’ and when they were raised, one had a ready-made sukkah. Others would fashion a sukkah by nailing together spare boards, and putting some grasses on top. The Shammes would carry the esrog from house to house to give the men an opportunity to recite the blessing. On these occasions, one did not partake of food. Hoshana Rabba we stayed up for the entire night and read through the entire Mishneh Torah, and also recited Psalms. Others would stay up until midnight to see if the heavens really opened…

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Simchat Torah was the merriest of the holidays. Celebration commenced immediately with the evening prayers. The Shammes became a completely different person. During the High Holy Days, he was stiff and serious: now he was laid back and jocular. He had most certainly already made Kiddush at the home of a couple of balebatim… the auction of the [Torah] aliyot for the entire year commenced. It became a real marketplace, Jews bargained, raising their bids one over the other, bordering on fighting with one another. It was no small thing to hold down the maftir for an entire year, or the lifting and binding of the Torah scroll… it was only then that the hakafot^[7] would begin. The first of these were taken by the ‘prominent Jews,’ with the Torah scrolls in hand, followed by the children with their flags, which had portraits on them of Moses and Aaron. On the top of the flagpole an apple was stuck, and on the apple, a lit candle. We would circle the Bimah, chanting ‘Ozer dalim, hoshia na…^[8]’ The Bimah was packed with children, and also with girls, who granted themselves a special dispensation to enter the otherwise male province of the synagogue floor. After all, it was Simchat Torah! The following morning, prayers services lasted a long time. It was necessary to call everyone to the Torah, even the small children. They would be enfolded in prayer shawls, and one adult (in charge of the ritual of ‘all the boys’) would chant the blessings along with everyone.

After eating, the community first got itself ready to attend the party that the Mishna study group used to put on every year at Simchat Torah. A long time ago, it was held at the home of Reb Ephraim Sukhovolsky, but after his tragic death at the hands of robbers, the party was held sometimes at the home of Velvel Kaplan and sometimes at Shlomo Shaul's. The Shammes would go into the streets, not missing a single house, and come in for a toast. At the same time, he would take out of the ovens everything that he could find: a noodle pudding, a potato pudding, a tzimmes, a torte, and whatever else he could lay his hands on… He was followed by a band of children. The Shammes would pause every now and then, turn and shout out at the top of his lungs: “Sacred sheep!” And the children would respond as a choir, in an even louder voice: “Baaa! Baaa!” And it was like this at every house along the entire street. No one objected. All the members of the Mishna study group came to the party. I would accompany my father. One would take a little strong drink, a bite of food, and discuss some Torah, except the more one ate and drank, the merrier it got. All manner of songs were sung, and in the end, everyone fell into a sort of ecstasy, and several individuals, being already quite drunk, used to get up on the tables and dance. Despite this, one never found a Jewish drunkard passed out in the gutter… and it was in this fashion that we made merry far into the night. After the holidays, the long winter began – for some difficult, and for some more bearable.

The Barracks

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the twisting streets of Jerusalem, and bite his lip when he heard about the intrigues of Zamir…

The frost would abate at Purim season. People became lighter hearted. The days began to get longer, the sun warmer, melting the snow and ice, giving the area the feeling of spring. Purim was celebrated as it should be. The Megillah was read, and when Haman's name was mentioned, we made noise with groggers and keys full of sulfur.

After Purim, the community began preparing for Passover. No small thing of a holiday! Immediately after Purim, we began to bake matzos. The hullabaloo would start at Feygl Bash'keh's. There was noise, a tumult, with shouting from all sides. The dough rollers, the cutters, the water handlers, and so forth – everyone contributed to the great tumult. The children would be let out of school and go over the fields searching for yellow flowers, the first that come out in the spring, and grow underneath the snow… others would go to the hullabaloo and stay close to their mothers or sisters. If one could snag a piece of matzoh, well that was a big victory. Then the Passover Eve ‘emigration’ would begin… one washed and cleaned. Dishes and utensils were made kosher, the double glazed windows were removed, and periodically, whitewashed the exterior of the house (inside – was axiomatic).

Passover was the most happy holiday celebrated by the Jews. We would get new things, with goblets and glasses with the inscription Pesach on them. Naturally, during the Passover season, the days were very full, and the moonlit nights were practically entrancing. The children went around with pockets full of nuts. The teacher would come to the house in order to sign up students for his Heder for the coming year, but the children would be playing the game of ‘nuts’ and not paying much heed to the eventuality of school.

Summer life would start after Passover, and you understand, in the Jewish way. One cannot go swimming because of the sefira^[9] prohibition. One cannot go for a run out of the city, nor rowing on the river. One must sit at the Gemara from early in the day until late at night, even though the summer was tempting. The evil inclination was very strong, but Jewish children are even stronger. Despite this, we were able to take some pleasure from the summer. Friday, towards evening, we would go to bathe in the river near the priest by the swamp, or going as far as Vatashchina to the large Ros River. We would jump into the water, turned the world upside down, and returned home singing…

Shavuot was celebrated in a happy fashion. After all, it was the best time of the year. We would bake up a variety of dairy baked goods. We, the young folk, would go off into the swamps, and pull up the tall grasses to decorate the house in honor of the holiday.

Summer would pass quickly, as all good times naturally pass swiftly. The Fast of the Ninth of Ab was a signal that the summer was moving along. And there was a need to pause and mourn. In the Bet HaMedrash, boards were laid out close to the ground. The curtain covering the Holy Ark was removed. The Jews would sit about in their stockinged feet, bemoaning the destruction of the Temple, and the entire sad history of our people.

It was in this fashion that months and years would pass by. Zamoscheh existed like all other little towns.

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Weddings were held, circumcisions were performed, Bar Mitzvahs, and then weddings once again… Life went on in a well beaten path for hundreds of generations.

After the First World War, an emigration began, some to North America, some to the Land of Israel, and others to faraway Argentina. Many nests were emptied out, and parents would await the letter carrier with great trepidation. People from Zamoscheh went to places very far from home. But no matter where one ended up, the image of the tranquil and peaceful hometown always stood before one's eyes. Now this had all been eradicated. All that remains of the old hometown is a mound of ash, and not even a trace of our dear ones remains behind. The mind rejects this with disbelief. Is it true that all the Jews of my Zamoscheh are no longer alive? Is it true that there no longer exists a Jew such as Reb Yoss'l Leib Rabinovich, a wise Jewish man, whose weekly conversation was like pearls? When he was once late to prayers (during the time of the First World War), and he was asked: “Is it possible, how does it come that you are late for services?” – to which he replied: “It is written, to listen to the refrain and the prayer. First one needs to relieve oneself, and then one goes to prayer…’^[10] Is there no longer a Jew like Velvel Kaplan, who was such a heartfelt Jewish man, that when he would see me dragging bundles to the train station (on my way to the Yeshiva), would stop me, and give me yet another package full of goodies? Has Nakheh's little house really been destroyed, where we used to have such good times? And Nakheh herself – with her face that was the very image of goodness – is she also no longer here? And Chaim Rabinovich and his little wife, who played in the Bialystok theater, and afterwards at our location? And all the other dear beloved neighbors of our street? Have you all really been exterminated? One does not want to believe this. The mind rebels against it – how is this possible? But sadly, there is the bitter truth. And there is not even a shred of doubt about it: all were exterminated! All were killed in the most terrifying manner! W H Y ? For what transgressions? Where does one seek an answer to this tragic question?

The youth in days gone by had their hobbies, just like the young people of today. People collected postcards, occupied themselves with photography, while others collected old coins. And even myself, who was always occupied with the Gemara, was also a very ardent numismatist. In order to obtain an ancient coin somewhere, it was acceptable to me to close up my Gemara and run even to Karczyzna…the kids in the street knew already, that if they ended up with a coin somewhere that the storekeeper wouldn't take, they would come to me, to request a good one so they could buy candy.

Every pauper, who came to us for a handout, would also exchange such coins with me. I would especially seek out visiting emissaries, who would come to remove the money from the coin boxes of Rabbi Meir Baal HaNess, and from other coin boxes. Such a [visiting] Jewish man would empty out his entire sack of coins on the table, from which I would glean many older coins that were no longer in circulation. It would appear that a charity coin box was a good source for such coins… and traveling on the wagon from Berestovitz to Krynki (to the Yeshiva) I would often see the green glint of something shiny on the sandy roads, and I would then jump down from the wagon and indeed pick up a coin from the 17^th or 18^th century that had turned green with time… there were gymnasium students among the numismatists of Volkovysk, and among them also was

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Khmelnitsky's son. We also had a couple of very dedicated numismatists in Zamoscheh. One of them was Aryeh Velvelevich (or Velvelevsky), a very polished young man, well-schooled in Torah. He came from some town or another to become the son-in-law of Shimon Rutchik. The Zamoscheh residents always remembered the high-class wedding that took place at that time. The young man also occupied himself with collecting old coins. Also, Leibeh Tchopper, a rich man from our street, had a large coin collection. The above mentioned, who had sufficient means, were in a position to purchase rare coins, silver ones, and even gold ones. We would meet with each other frequently, and show each other the recently acquired pieces, and talk about old coins. In addition, I had a catalogue of old coins from St. Petersburg (Leningrad). Many people looked askance at such an activity as idle foolishness, but from time-to-time, they would have to come to us. At Purim time, for the ‘Makhatzit HaShekel’^[11] they would have to come to us to borrow the half-ruble coin from the time of Czar Alexander II, or even earlier, because the half-ruble pieces struck by the last two Czars were not valid for ritual purposes, because they were stamped as 50 kopecks, and on the older coins the word Полтинник (half-ruble) was stamped. An old woman started coming to me for half groschen pieces (Полушкий). Naturally, I would give them to her, but when she started to come to request half-groschen pieces more frequently, I became curious to find out why she needed this. One time, I refused to provide them until she told me to what purpose she used them. She tried to squirm out of it, but having no choice, she told me, she used the coins as a good luck charm for a nursing mother who had malfunctioning breasts. Naturally, I didn't go to research whether this, from a medical point of view could really be of benefit, and I always provided her with these ‘good luck charms…’

Translator's footnotes:

1. The legendary cupping process of Eastern Europe, which supposedly had the power to extract ‘evil tumours’ from an ailing person's body. Treated with considerable skepticism and derision by modern medicine. Return
2. Diminutive of Rokhl, or Rachel. Return
3. The Genizah was a cache for storing sacred writings that had fallen into sufficient disrepair that they could not be restored. These writings, called shaymos (after the Hebrew word, shem – i.e. The Name of God), were deemed Holy, and it was therefore forbidden to destroy them. Hence they were cached in a Genizah. Return
4. A preacher, usually itinerant. Return
5. Literally, ‘the opposition;’ in this case to the Hassidic movement. The Mitnagdim were adherents to the ritual as espoused by the Lithuanian rabbinate, whose exponent was Rabbi Elijah, the Gaon of Vilna. Return
6. A thin, white ritual robe, worn during prayers and religious ceremonies meant to separate the wearer from worldly concerns. Return
7. The ritual processionals during which the Torah scrolls are carried around the synagogue. Return
8. The beginning of the verse for one of the hakafot, whose meaning is: “He who gives succor to the poor, help us now…’ Return
9. Reference to the counting of the 49 days of the Omer, from Passover to Shavuot. Excepting the 33^rd day (Lag B'Omer), the days are viewed as a period of abstinence in memory of a great plague that struck and killed thousands of the students of Rabbi Akiva in Talmudic times. Return
10. A play on the Hebrew work, ‘rinah’ which is usually read as refrain, but here altered to the German ‘rinn’ meaning a runoff (i.e. into a ditch). Return
11. The ritual half-shekel piece Return

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Here, I will portray Karczyzna as I remember it, and how I knew it, a scant fifty years ago.

Karczyzna, which lies at the east end of Volkovysk, began at the white jail and at the end was divided in two parts: on one side, to the right, [the road] led to Zapolye^[1], Haminich and Zelva, and the other side – to Zahalik, Biskup_e, and other villages.

Despite the fact that Karczyzna was the way into the city, and the non-Jews would travel through it on their way to take their products for sale, or to come to the city to make purchases, this area was counted as a poor area, and most of its residents, with few exceptions, were poor people.

Years later, after the First World War, Karczyzna was repaired a bit, both in terms of housing stock and appearance. A few [sic: large] buildings were erected there. The Hebrew Gymnasium Tarbut was in one of those buildings. The Russian parochial school^[2] was also found in Karczyzna.

The richest of the Jews in Karczyzna was Joel Amstibovsky the grain merchant. He was a handsome Jew, a scholar, and had a Rabbi as a son-in-law, which in those days brought with it a great deal of status.

Moshe Yankel der Millner (Freidkin) was one of the very important balebatim of the area, who owned the mill in Karczyzna. At that time, the Karczyzna mill was very popular, because half of Volkovysk would come there before nightfall on Friday, during the summer months, to bathe for the Sabbath. This was before the bath house was built on the Millner Gasse. Moshe Yankel der Millner was a warm and approachable man. He was also the Gabbai of the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash, and in general as a doer in the city. He and Joel would together study a daily page of the Gemara. He died a tragic death at the time of an attempted repair of the millstone apparatus.

Hoshea Nakdimon was another prominent one of the balebatim in Karczyzna. He dealt in forest products and had a large yard, where lumber boards were cut. One of his daughters was in business with him in the forest and she was one of the few women in Volkovysk that worked in the fields.

Among the other important residents of Karczyzna were the two brothers Botvinsky : Ahareh der Polivnik^[3] and Itchkeh the Teacher. Ahareh was a gentle Jewish man, who had book-learning, and led prayers (Baal Tefilah). His son, Aizik was the Torah Reader at the Karczyzner Bet HaMedrash since the age of thirteen. After he married, Aizik became a ritual slaughterer in Volkovysk. Itcheh Botvinsky was occupied with

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teaching, and was counted among the best teachers in Volkovysk, especially in Hebrew [language]. Apart from these previously mentioned people, there were several other water carriers, a couple of shoemakers, tailors, smiths, jobbers, and just plain indigent people.

Karczyzna had a tiny Bet HaMedrash, and apart from the residents of Karczyzna, Jews from surrounding neighborhoods prayed there as well, among them: 'Nioma ,der Haminicher, who owned the mill in Haminich, and his son, Gedalyahu, who had a field there, and maintained gardens which he would plant with cucumbers, which he would then pickle and seal very well into jars. He would store the jars in the river during the entire winter, and every Thursday, he would bring some of the jars of pickled cucumbers into the city for sale. The Volkovysk homemakers would buy the pickles for the Sabbath, and would literally lick their fingers eating them. Regular worshipers at the Karczyzner Bet HaMedrash also included: Avreml Biskupi_er, who had the yard in Biskup_e, and his son-in-law, Yisrael Novick – both gentle sorts of Jewish men. Also, the few Jews who lived in Zapolye would come to pray in the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash, among them, Blonde Itcheh, who was always happy and made jokes – he dealt in shurkehs (wagons filled with wood); Efroykeh Blume's (Mania the Butcher's brother). He was a weaver by trade, and worked in Horodok. He would come home for the holidays, and also occasionally for the Sabbath. He was a soulful Baal Tefilah, and would lead the Musaf services on the High Holy Days. Also, my parents, who at that time were residents of Zapolye, would come to pray in the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash.

The Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash had its own Scholar (Perush) and Shammes. The Perush, Reb Hersh, would sit and study Torah purely for the sake of study, simply because it was a mitzvah to learn, and not with the objective of becoming a Rabbi. At one time he was a teacher, but at one time he was left without a position, so he became a Perush, and the worshipers at the Bet HaMedrash would somehow support him. He had two weaknesses – recitation of the Kaddish, and being called to the Torah for an aliyah. He would always say Kaddish, even if he was not a mourner. Jokers would say he is “reciting Kaddish for the entire world,” because the world is dead, and all the businesses are also dead… he also wanted to be called to the Torah for an aliyah at all occasions. It didn't matter which aliyah – but at least any aliyah – and one could silently observe how much aggravation he had from this…

The Shammes, Yosh'eh, had a maimed hand, and also limped. Do understand, that he derived no great fortune from being the Shammes, and in order to make a living he had a side job – begging door-to-door.

In Volkovysk, the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash was famous for the fact that they prayed very quickly there. A good Baal Tefilah was defined as someone who could get through the service quickly…

Early on the Sabbath, the second minyan would get finished by 10AM, and also not very much later on Holidays (excepting Rosh Hashana). One day, they finished prayers somewhat late, and all of Karczyzna went berserk. This happened on the first day of Sukkot, and the reason was because of an Esrog. The Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash had a total of only three Esrogim, two which belonged to individuals, and one which was a community Esrog. The community Esrog was usually bought from my father, Hertzl der Melamed, who was a teacher of the older Gemara children.

I want, at this time, to dedicate a few words to my father, ע”ה. He received rabbinic ordination at the age of eighteen. Were it not for his bad luck, he would have been one of the great rabbis, because he possessed all of

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the characteristics demanded of such a great rabbi. However, a few years after he married, he fell sick and was bedridden for a year. During that time, he was forced to expend his entire dowry, and beyond that, fell into debt. Also, my grandfather, my mother's father, Berel Zapolyer, who had been one of the richer balebatim, lost his fortune, and was no longer in a position to help him, so that he could continue his studies until such time that a pulpit position would come open. Having no choice, he became a Melamed. However, for many years, he strove to supplement his income, in order that he could more fully dedicate himself to scholarship, and to give a lesson in the Yeshiva without charge. In the end, his dream did not come to be. Apart from his teaching, he would undertake the sale of Esrogim at Sukkot season. Among his customers was the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash which would annually purchase the community Esrog from him.

That year, the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash did not buy its Esrog from my father, and the reason was the following: Around that time, an organization called Somekh Noflim^[4] had been established in Volkovysk, with the purpose of making interest-free loans that would be repaid weekly. The vokher, or weekly collector for the Somekh Noflim also dealt in Esrogim. Seeing that a large number of the worshipers at the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash owed money to the Somekh Noflim, they thought that if they bought the community Esrog from the collector, he won't be as strict and insistent while making his weekly collections. This really irritated my father, but he didn't do anything about it. A couple of days before Sukkot, in the morning, after prayers, when the congregation had already dispersed, each member going to his own business, and the only people left in the Bet HaMedrash were the Scholar and the Shammes, my father (for whom this was between terms, and he had no reason to hurry home), and me as well, who was then a youngster of fifteen years, and had returned from the Yeshiva to be home for the Holidays. My father then approached the Shammes, and asked to please have a look at the Esrog that the Bet HaMedrash had purchased. He examined the Esrog with great care, and asked the Shammes what was the price of the Esrog, and when he told him that they had paid three rubles for the Esrog, my father remarked: Dos iz nisht kayn metziyeh (This is no bargain).

Very early on the first day of Sukkot, when it was still dark outside, my father woke me up. He apologized for being unable to attend services, and he asked me to proceed immediately to the Bet HaMedrash, and convey to the Shammes that the community Esrog they had purchased was ritually unfit, and it is forbidden to recite any blessing over it. He asked me to tell the Shammes that in a certain place in the Shulkhan Arukh^[5] it is explicitly written that an Esrog with certain specific kinds of spots on it, exactly like those on the very same Esrog possessed by the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash, is ritually unfit. He asked me to go swiftly to the Bet HaMedrash, and to warn the Scholar, in order that no one, God forbid, make a blessing in vain over the ritually unfit Esrog.

When I arrived at the Bet HaMedrash, they were preparing to commence with the first minyan. I went up to the top bookcase, took down the Shulkhan Arukh and handed it to the Scholar. I related the entire story, and the Scholar, along with a couple of other Jews who stood nearby, appeared to be thunderstruck by what I had said, as if a bomb had exploded in the middle of the Bimah….

The Shammes was dispatched to pose this question to Reb Yaakov Abraham the Dayan^[6] who lived opposite

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the Bet HaMedrash of Reb Meir'keh. Reb Yaakov Abraham ruled that if there is no other Esrog in the Bet HaMedrash, then the existing Esrog in question may receive a blessing. However, if another Esrog is at hand, then this one should not be blessed. But before this all happened, before the Shammes, who still limped in one leg, could return to the Bet HaMedrash with this reply, a good amount of time elapsed, approximately a half hour or more. And when the second minyan finished praying, it was after twelve o'clock in the afternoon. What it means for the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash to end services after twelve o'clock – only someone from Karczyzna can understand…

Together with Karczyzna and the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash, several incidents remain in my memory that took place at the time of the outbreak of cholera in Volkovysk:

It was the beginning of Elul, when every morning one would hear the sound of the shofar in the shuls, and late into the night – the sounds of the Torah (during the summer months it was customary not to study in the [early] evenings). We were approaching the High Holy Days, when “even a fish in water trembles.” Each individual became a little more pious, prayers were recited with a bit more conviction, one studied or recited more of the Psalms, and one generally became more mystically attuned. – At this time, one year, alarms began to circulate that “something” was going through the city. People were suffering stomach cramps, and there was bleeding. Conditions worsened until it took on the proportions of an epidemic, and there even were a number of fatalities.

The fright became greater when it was learned that Mot'cheh Ber the butcher had died from the illness. Mot'cheh Ber was a strong man. Around the city, stories of his strength were legendary. Everyone thought that if a strong man like this couldn't resist this disease – may God have mercy on all Jews, the weak ones…

At the beginning, it was thought that the illness came from eating unripened fruit, so the police went to the market, and threw all the fruit they found in the marketplace into the sewer, and poured carbolic acid on it. The police also launched a sanitation sweep, that is, they conducted an inspection of all yards and commanded that carbolic acid be put down all over.

When these measures proved ineffective, an order was given not to drink ‘raw’ water. Water first had to be boiled. The city, meaning the community, opened up several free tea-houses, where free tea and sugar were served several times daily. True, the sugar, was only a ‘hint’ of sugar. A sugar cube was cut into eight pieces, and a one-eighth piece was given with each glass, but seeing that we were not generally ‘over-indulged’ and that it didn't cost any money, we were satisfied with this as well…

A great deal of help was rendered by the Khevrat Lina, whose members dedicated much time and energy to combat the cholera, and to provide relief to the families of those who were taken ill.

The entire month of Elul passed in this way, as did Rosh Hashana, and Yom Kippur drew nigh – and the situation did not improve.

On the day before Yom Kippur, we were very frightened, because the disease would affect a hungering and weakened person more strongly, and [consequently] special measures were invoked. The Bet Din^[7] ordered

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that the floor of the prayer house should not be covered in straw. Every Yom Kippur, it was the practice to spread the straw, in order to make it soft underfoot, because one did not wear shoes, and one spent the bulk of the day standing. The straw would kick up dust, especially when one would perform the kneeling ceremony during the Aleinu prayer… and so the straw and the attending dust were canceled this year. The Bet Din also sent in a bottle of wine into each Bet HaMedrash, and sliced challah in pieces smaller than the traditional ‘olive bite,’ in case someone would, God forbid, begin to feel poorly, he would immediately be given something to ingest. Apart from this, a feldscher or a doctor was stationed in each Bet HaMedrash, which was far from the center of the city, in the event someone became sick, he could be attended to immediately.

Velvel the doctor, who lived on the Kholodoisker Gasse, was sent to the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash. He was considered to be an expert in – extraction of teeth… (there were no dentists yet in Volkovysk at that time).

The police were not satisfied with these measures, and at midday of the Eve of Yom Kippur, it sealed up all the women's galleries in the houses of prayer. You can imagine the diversity of imprecations hurled at the police by the womenfolk, but nothing could be done about it. The Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash, where we prayed, found an alternative; seeing as two sides of the Bet HaMedrash, the east side and north side, looked out over a yard full of lumber owned by Hoshea Nakdimon, tables and benches were nailed together against these walls, and since the weather was nice and mild, the womenfolk prayed there.

The women joked that their prayers would reach heaven sooner. They won't have to pass through the attic and the roof…

Prayer on the morning of Yom Kippur began later than usual. The piyyut was entirely omitted, only the essential prayers were recited, and even in those instances, they were not lingered over. Free time during the day was spent out of doors, in fresh air. It was in this fashion that Yom Kippur passed peaceably, with no added incidents of disease. We breathed a little more freely, and took our leave with lighter hearts.

The following episode occurs to me in connection with that Yom Kippur evening, after the fast:

As previously mentioned, the person who led the Musaf service in the Karczyzna Bet HaMedrash was Efroykeh Blume's. This Efroykeh was a lovely and soulful Baal Tefilah. He was in general a loving and approachable person. He lived in Zapolye, a gentile settlement near the city, where he had his own house and a piece of land. Apart from this, his wife, Blume, did a little business. Blume was a true ‘woman of valor’ and half a doctor – “a throat specialist.” If a neighbor's child would complain about a sore throat, Blume would be called to take a look at the throat, and would immediately conclude that it was tonsils. She would squeeze them with her fingers, and would say that this would make it ‘better.’ Whether it made anything ‘better’ is another matter…

Efroykeh took no compensation for leading services, rather, the Bet HaMedrash would make him a gift of tea and sugar, in order that he drink sweet, pure tea and thereby have a clear sweet voice…

That Yom Kippur night, after Maariv,^[8] the bottle of wine was opened, that had been provided by the Bet Din, the Havdalah service was performed, and everyone took a snort. Efroykeh had a vulnerability to drink, and as

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soon as he imbibed even a bit of alcohol, he would become somewhat befuddled. When he finally got home (it was a goodly distance from the Bet HaMedrash to his house), his wife asked him whether or not he had made Havdalah.-- he answered, no. So he made Havdalah again, and became quite merry, and instead of breaking his fast, he went off to his couple of Jewish neighbors to wish them a ‘good year.’ He also came to us, left his greetings, and went off.

A couple of minutes later, a gentile, a neighbor, came into our house and told us in his language: Efroykeh spevaye y tantzuye, which means, Efroykeh is singing and dancing. When we went outside, we could see Efroykeh standing on a little hill, with a circle of gentiles around him, and he danced and sang “And if I have not exacted vengeance for their blood, I have not exacted vengeance… and I will exact vengeance on his oppressors.” All the while pointing his finger at the gentiles.

The gentiles stood around in wonderment. Among them, if somebody gets drunk, they start a fight, create a disturbance, and here stood Efroykeh singing ‘prayers.’ It was an extraordinary sight to see, and the setting half moon lent a yellowish mysterious light to the tableau.

It is fifty and some odd years since that happened, and yet Efroykeh's chant still echoes in my ears from that Yom Kippur night: And if I have not exacted vengeance for their blood, I have not exacted vengeance… and I will exact vengeance on his oppressors. May we live to see this sentiment come true, speedily in our day.

This generation of Jews from Karczyzna, all these decent and beloved Jews, are long gone. Additionally, all their children and grandchildren – excepting those that emigrated before the Second World War to the Land of Israel, America and other countries – perished at the hands of the murderous Nazis together with the entire Volkovysk Jewish community. The Almighty will take vengeance for their blood.

Translator's footnotes:

1. In the Dubno District of the Grodno Province (rendered Zapole). Return
2. Прйходскй Училища (Prikhodski Utchilitcheh) Return
3. A Water-carrier Return
4. Hebrew, for ‘support those who are falling.’ Return
5. The Code of Jewish Law Return
6. Probably Rabbi Yaakov Berestovitsky Return
7. The local Rabbinic Court of Law having religious authority in the area. Return
8. The daily and last public prayer service of the evening. Return

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