Sara's Story

The Beginning

I am Sara G, born on July 17th, 1930 in the town of VILKAVISHKIS (Vilkoviskis) in independent Lithuania. My maiden name is Hlamovich. Our family of four included my father Zelig, Mother Tamara, Sister Haviva ( Luba) and me.

I clearly remember myself at age of three or four. It was a happy childhood - till I turned ten. I was a happy child, loved my pre-school teacher Lelya Zilber, loved our walks to the city park where we played. I remember swings, lots of flowers, bright sun warming up our childhood.

Later I started a Hebrew school on Kisinishko street, a handsome two storey building, bright and tidy. The principal, Mr. Kleinshtein, loved kids. I had many friends, was a good student, and spent my free time playing with other little girls, Dvora Tiger, Dina Matz, Lea Kabaker, Mushi (Minna) Levinson, Toni Tabarishker, and several little boys: Zvika Bernshtein, Mulik Kremer, Itsik Lubetsky. A river nearby and an orchard that belonged to the Catholic Church were perfect for hiding from the adults and playing. The sound of running water in the river and the singing of the birds seemed to urge us to enjoy every moment, cajoled us into frolicking, laughing, and amusing ourselves. But the tall trees all around us looked somberly down on little kids' antics, the branches hung low in anticipation of the strong winds of the war coming our way.

World War Two

World War II broke out in Europe in 1939. The first Jewish refugees from Poland came from the lands close to the Lithuanian border. Several families from Suvalki (Poland) and Etkunen (on the border with Germany). My parents hosted a family of five from Suvalki and an elderly Jew from Etkunen. That still didn't interrupt happy games that I and my young friends were playing. Not until 1940, when the Soviets arrived and established their own order in Lithuania.

My Family

My father Zelig was the head accountant at a well-known knitwear factory Elveko in Kaunas (Kovno). Every Thursday he would come home and be with the family till Monday morning when a train would take him back to Kaunas, sixty kilometers away from Vilkoviskis. Father's income was not covering all family expenses.

My mother Tamara, a very beautiful, clever, and resourceful woman, worked out her own way to help the ends meet. She ran a small kosher eatery in the dining room of our spacious apartment that occupied the whole third floor of Mr. Sobolevich's house.

The Soviet Rule

Once the Soviet rule was proclaimed in Lithuania (summer 1940), the Soviets immediately began a sweeping nationalization of private and public property with no consideration for individual circumstances. They came in the middle of the night and forced us out of our beds, and took away most of our belonging. Political repressions were becoming widespread. Father managed to find an apartment in Kaunas, and moved us there under the cover of the night. This is how our family avoided repressions in Vilkoviskis. In Kaunas I continued my schooling as a forth grader in a Jewish school named after the writer Sholom Aleihem. All classes were in Yiddish. Hebrew was forbidden as a spoken language and all books in Hebrew had been confiscated. My sister had completed her ten year education on Yiddish by the time my happy childhood ended.

The war between Germany and the Soviet Union

June twenty-second, 1941. The war between Germany and the Soviet Union began.

Try to imagine yourself as an eleven -year-old. The sky seems to be black with so many Fascist airplanes, bombs falling, bullets swishing, houses and forests in flames, people, both soldiers and civilians with children, running for their life, looking for cover, screaming, crying out in panic. Only a few lucky ones survived, many-many people were killed right there.

That was the end of my childhood.

I've decided to write down my memories, all I remember about my family, people who were close to us, the surroundings...

About my mother, a beautiful woman, full of energy, very clever and resourceful.

About my father who was not what you'd call a strikingly handsome man. Father was a decent man, an honest man. The war weighted him down, he became gloomy, pessimistic.

Even before the Germans occupied Kaunas and established their anti-Jewish rules, bands of Lithuanians went on a rampage robbing and murdering the Jews,

I am writing about all this because we have to pass this knowledge to the next generation. We must not forget what befell on the Jewish people in Lithuania and Europe.

The New German Rules

With the arrival of the Germans, the new German rules were implemented in July 1941:
1. The Jewish population was forbidden to walk along city pavements.
2. Jews were required to wear a yellow star of David on the front and back of their clothes. Those who failed to obey this rule would be shot on the spot.
3. Jews were forbidden to enter stores, shops, and other public places.
4. The ghetto was set up and we were forced out of our homes and moved into the ghetto. It was located in Wiliampole (Slobodka). A barbed-wire fence, with posts manned by guards with guns, was put up around the ghetto. It was forbidden to come close to the fence. The gates were shut.

The Ghetto was ruled by
1. The Chair of the Council of Elders, Dr. Elkes.
2. The second in command, Liptser
3. Labor Office (Arbeit-amt)
4. The Ghetto Police with Aremshtam as the head of Police

The Ghetto was split into two parts. The smaller Ghetto was located on the Ponary street and included an orphanage, a hospital and an Old-Age Home. In September 1941 the Germans carried out the so-called "small action." The young and able to work were taken to the Larger Ghetto, and the rest of the people were burned alive along with all personnel of the orphanage, the hospital. and the Old Age Home. Four thousand people were "liquidated".

"Large action"

The "Large action" took place on October 27-28, 1941. The Germans ordered that all Jews show up at six in the morning on the Democrats' Square. The morning was freezing, and the newborn babies died of cold. The crowd was formed into rows, and the Germans performed the "selection process:" the sick, the old, children, and people with handicaps were sent to the left and then taken to the Ninth Fort where they were killed and burned. Nine thousand innocent people were killed. That year the autumn was very cold and the winter---freezing. In this cold the people were forced to walk five or six kilometers up the hill. Those who couldn't keep up were shot on the spot. Forts 4,5,7, and 9 were known as places of execution of Jews, Romas, prisoners of war, and communists. People were ordered to dig trenches, then they were forced to get undressed, naked they were pushed into the trenches, where they were shot from machine guns. European Jews were brought there from Austria, Holland, Hungary, France. They were killed during the day hours and the bodies were burned during the nights. We could see the smoke, and the air was filled with the stench of burned human meat and bones.

During the first two years of life in the Ghetto, the Germans, along with Lithuanians and Ukrainians, searched homes of the Jews and felt free to take all they wanted. They were pulling men from the homes and killing them by the entrance door.

"Children's Action"

The "Children's Action" took place on March 27-28, 1942. This horror I shall never forget. Newborn infants grabbed out of mothers' arms, torn in halves. and thrown in the trucks. The Germans made dogs attack mothers and then grabbed the kids... My sister and I hid into the double wall in the attic and watched it all through cracks between the boards. Older kids tries to calm down the little ones. this horrific "action" was going on for two days. Twenty eight hundred kids below the age of thirteen were taken away from the parents and murdered. We were afraid to breathe there in the attic, couldn't cough, sneeze, cry, we were silently breathing into a small rug.

After this "action" two years were added to our age on the papers, so that we would be sent to work. I started working at the knitwear factory Sylva. My sister worked in a painters shop.

The little children who survived the "action" had to stay hidden in the basements while their parents were at work. These little kids knew that they had to do so in order to avoid being killed, and they didn't cry, just stayed there waiting for their parents to return from work.

My mother concocted a new grown-up hairdo for me and blushed my cheeks with a red candy wrapper. People at the factory were reasonably good to me. The mechanic was an older man, a Lithuanian German. He taught me to operate an overlock machine, and ketl machine

At the end of the work day everything was to be cleaned up. But I chose to sabotage the work: I would hide nuts and bolts, exchange them, so that the second shift would have trouble with the machines. I managed to come up with something new each time. I had spent two tears working there, 1942 to 1944.

Concentration Camp

In 1942 the Kaunas Ghetto was transformed into a concentration camp. In 1944 the Germans decided to liquidate the concentration camp and moved us to the camp farther away. The front was approaching Lithuania, Lithuania was surrounded. My father was working at the lumber warehouse. His boss Rigel, a German, respected Father who was fluent in German, both spoken and written. And Father used the opportunity to build an underground "Malina," a hidden space with installed wiring for telephone communications, water and bread to last for three weeks. A hundred people had been hiding in the "Malina", until a polizai from the Ghetto learned about the place. The grenades were exploded to break through into Malina, and the people were forced out of their hiding place. A German who interrogated Father asked him why he did what he did. "We want to live," was my father's answer. The German pointed at the polizai from the Ghetto and said, "And he doesn't want you to live..." Father was beaten senseless, and after that we were marched to the railroad cargo station and forced to climb into cattle cars that took us to Danzig, Prussia.. Upon arrival we were separated: the women were sent to the Stutthof Concentration Camp and the men to Dachau, both camps notoriously known for their crematoria.

Stutthof Concentration Camp

And here new sufferings began. We were forced to strip naked. With a tiny piece of soap in hand we were forced to bathe. "Medical" examination followed: our body cavities were searched for gold, money, silver, precious stones. None was found, Thank God. We then received the striped camp clothing - old and smelly. Our food in the morning amounted to one hundred gram of clay-like salt less bread and half a liter of coffee made of burnt chestnut shells, bitter as aspen's bark. The dinner consisted of soup made of rotten frozen potatoes or rotten cabbage leaves with worms floating on the top. Occasionally, depending on a mood of the Germans or the news from the front, additional two spoonfuls of thin porridge with a teaspoonful of a jam would accompany a meal. In such case the bees were let free from the nearby beehives for enjoyment and merriment of the Nazis. Sometimes, the soup was made of nettle leaves, those were the best days. The ration was from 300 to 400 calories a day, but we still were just recently from home, and so we had still retained some strength.

Polish Sadist Max

The camp was managed by a Polish sadist named Max. He had been tried for sadism and convicted in Poland, before the World War II. As a camp kommendant, he used to beat prisoners senseless. Three times a day he forced us to line up for a roll call. Each time he positioned himself in the doorway with his famous whip, and hit us to speed up our movement. He liked to put his foot forward and trip prisoners up, and then repeatedly hit them, fallen, with his feet and his whip, so that they couldn't get up.

We had spent several months in Stutthof. In October 1944 a new "action" took place, with selection: who was to stay at Stutthof and meet their death, and who would be taken out for slave labor. My mother decided to do whatever she could to get selected to become a slave laborer. And we were sent to the right - to work. We were marched to the Baltic Sea and onto a boat that took us to some place where we were marched through the forest to outskirts of a village. We lived there till the end of November, in the tents, ten people per tent on a thin layer of straw, slept under old, torn, and thin blankets. The place was called Trunz. There we were digging the tank-trap trenches in almost frozen ground. We worked with shovels and picks. It was getting so very cold that in the morning our hair was frozen.

Liebich, Prussia

Then we were taken to another place, Liebich, Prussia. There we lived in the old millhouse, without windows or doors, just round holes in the walls and plank-beds stacked three levels high, home to myriads of lice. Every morning we were marched to the fields to dig trenches and build bunkers. In the darkness of evenings we returned to the millhouse. We slept tight, several to a bunk, to keep warm, and lice traveled freely from one person to another.

Our shoes were torn and worn out completely, and we used the hay and straw wrapped around feet and tied with stripes torn off the blankets. December of 1944 was very cold, snowy and freezing, -26, -27 degrees Celsius.. People were getting sick. My sister was among those who became very ill. The doctor said she had Para typhus and tuberculous meningitis. The doctor told my mother that my sister could only be saved with cognac. This doctor was one of us, a very good person, both as a specialist and a human being. Her name was Eliashevich-Gurwich.

The commander of the camp, the "Obersturm-führer" was an SS officer Kafko. Another SS officer, Olh, was called "alt dem schnabel drin", "close your mouth." He was always shouting at us, marched around swinging his whip right and left. These two were the worst, the most terrible Germans. God forbid, this Olh decides that someone has attempted to stand up, to straighten her back, he would be right there with his whip, and he would hit and hit... to death. He made people kneel, and then proceeded with merciless whipping.

There was yet another German, a soldier from vermaht, dressed in green uniform, we called him "green". That one was in charge of building bunkers and trenches. He shouted but didn't hit. The convoy soldiers, several dozen of them, didn't hit us either. And then there was one SS officer, Engelhen, he was a good, cultured man who gave sandwiches to the weak kids. He would take several of us kids and take us to a pig-sty, to warm up, and he would tell the woman there to give us hot potato that was meant for the pigs. We stood there warming our feet and hands on warm bricks. It happened so rarely that I would be a part of this team, but when it happenned, it felt like a feast.

And so the doctor had told my mother that Cognac would save my sister. Cognac would disinfect the internal organs. And Mother decided to take a great risk. Late at night when the guards along with others were celebrating Christmas, my mother took the yellow star off her coat and managed to sneak out of the camp. She knocked on people's doors and pleaded with them, asking for a bit of Cognac that would save her daughter. Nobody gave her a thing. Some seemed to be inclined to beat her up. Then she decided to try one more home, and immediately heard that German was spoken there. Frightened she attempted to get out at once, but an SS officer spotted her and ordered her to stay. She had to kneel and plead with him, asking for forgiveness. But he was relentlessly yelling that he was going to kill her on the spot. His wife and two daughters came out with a plea to have a mercy for a poor woman on this Christmas Eve, when the war is lost anyway, Hitler kaput. When the wife of the officer learned what my mother needed and how she took this deadly risk in hope of saving her ill child, the German woman gave Mother two bottles of Cognac, and woolen socks, and she and her daughters walked Mother all the way to the camp in order to protect her from the patrol and their beatings.

Mother gave the Cognac bottles to the doctor, and my sister was saved, she and several other people were saved by Mother. There must have been only a few people like my mother in the entire world. In any rate, I haven't met anyone like her ever. Alas, my mother is no longer with us. Since 1988. May she rest in peace in Paradise.

The Last Forced March

All that happened on Christmas 1944. In January 1945 the Germans were surrounded and at midnight on the sixteenth of January, 1945, we were told to get up, to take our shovels and picks, and form a column, five abreast. It was an intensely cold night. Minus 20- 25 degrees Celsius. Strong icy winds were blowing from the West. We didn't know where they were taking us, but it was clear that this was our last march. People were freezing, we wrapped ourselves into our torn rugs of blankets. This is how we departed from Camp Liebich. Carrying shovels and picks, walking for five days, snow was our food and drinks. People died and were left on the road.. As we were walking, we saw soldiers- prisoners of war. They cried out to us, "Keep going, the victory is close!" We were taken to the bridge in the town Torn. In the middle of the night. Under shells falling nonstop. The Germans demanded that we walk across the bridge, quickly. But we couldn't see the end of that bridge. Some people jumped off the bridge thus putting the end to their lives. As soon as we reached the end of the bridge, it was blown up. We pushed ourselves with whatever strength we still had. My sister was very weak, and she said that she would not go ant further. She was very depressed and didn't care what would happen to her. She cursed us, saying that we were worse than the Germans, she wanted to get down on the ground and die. I took her shovel and pick, and continued pulling her along.

Freedom

At last we made it to outskirts of the forest where we saw Finnish huts used as stables. We got in. The forest was between the towns of Torn and Bromberg. There were twelve hundred of us, about three hundred died on the march. In the huts we found manure and some oats in the mangers. Mother warned everybody not to touch anything lest we all die. In the morning we were told to get out of the huts and stand facing the East. They decided to kill us all. One young SS officer shouted, "Don't shoot! Hitler kaput! Leave them alone!" And he forced us back into the huts. We heard shooting through the night. In the morning I ventured out and saw that all Germans were dead. We never figured it out. Was it their way to prevent being taken prisoners? Did they all committed suicide? The next day, the twenty-third of January, 1945, we were liberated by the Soviet Army.

Freedom - Continued

The front was approaching the forest, so we had to get moving. Again a walk, several days long, about forty kilometers, and we got to town of Ciechocinek in Poland. It was a collecting center for all liberated persons. As we were getting near the collecting center, we ran into soldiers---prisoners of war. One of them was a twenty-year old Jewish man from Minsk, Yehoshua. He had been forced to drink Ethanol (ethyl alcohol) which left him blind. I tied his hand to mine, and thus he made it to Ciechocinek with us. I do not know what happened to him later.

In Ciechocinek we all got medical care and healthy nourishment. My sister and I were placed in a hospital. Dark spots appeared all over my body, on my legs and arms. When touched, they hemorrhaged and were very painful. All my teeth were loose, and gums were bleeding. Doctor told us that it was scurvy, severe lack of vitamin C. In addition, my legs were frostbitten. My sister stayed in a hospital for a long time. Her Para typhus had been taken care of, but the treatment for tuberculous meningitis was very lengthy. All together we spent some eight or nine months in Ciechocinek. The air there was wonderful. Then we were sent home... to Lithuania.

In Warsaw where we had a stopover, we were offered an opportunity to go to the West. But I wouldn't agree to it, because we were supposed to meet Father in Kaunas. Unfortunately, we were sent to the town of Grodno. The KGB-ran camp there was called a filtering camp. That seemed so humiliating, we were treated as prisoners, under investigation. Mother's interrogator accused Mother of having had sexual relations with Germans, he was insulting and abusive. But Mother got even with him. She told him, "those were your women who gave birth to lots of baby-Fritzes for you!" He slapped her on the face twice and banished her from his sight. We talked to other people, also abused by the KGB man, and together we wrote a letter of complaint to his bosses. He was dismissed, and we were put on a train heading to Lithuania. We spent six weeks in that camp. What a Soviet icing on the cake of our miseries under the Germans!

Returning to Kaunas

Almost Autumn. Shoeless, in rags, hungry, here we were at the Kaunas Railroad Station. Where should we go? Who could we ask? We learned that Father perished in Dachau two weeks before the end of the war. Our relatives also perished. Mother was preoccupied, anxious, not knowing what to do. She decided to go to the synagogue, to ask if we could spend the night there. As we were walking toward the synagogue, a man in a uniform stopped Mother, "Tamara Hlamnovich?" They recognized each other. He used to be a friend of my father, His name was Elin. Elin took us to his home, he lived on the green hill, and he owned that house, a real cottage with running water and other long forgotten wonders. This I called real luck, a great fortune. We were filthy, tired, and Elin let us all take a bath. All our rags were thrown away, and Elin gave us clothes. He managed the knitwear factory Sylva. There, in that cottage, we had our first real meal.

We had lived in the Elin's house for several weeks, slowly turning into our former selves. Elin proposed to my mother. He pictured a family, the girls would go back to school... But Mother was a very strict woman. Her reasoning against this marriage was based on the fact that she was a mother of two almost grown daughters and the fact that she had no formal information regarding Father's fate. And Mother refused to accept the proposed marriage.

Vilnius

One morning mother learned that her brother Yosef and her cousin had reappeared in Vilnius. And she decided to join her brother there. Unfortunately, our uncle couldn't help us. His wife and children had been killed in Vilkaviskis. At the front he had been wounded several times and also shell-shocked. Then he moved in with a woman twenty years his senior. She had already had grandchildren. But he had been lonesome, ill, hungry, and so he agreed to move in. Unfortunately, he didn't find a relief in that relationship, and he became a heavy drinker.

Our uncle only managed to find us a dilapidated house, doorless and windowless, right before the winter came. The tar workshop in our courtyard housed several Jewish workers. They brought us a metal furnace and we now could burn wood shavings in that furnace. Uncle managed to fix the door and the window for us, and that room on 8 Jidu (Jewish) street, where the Ghetto was during the war, became our home.

Meanwhile, my sister's condition had worsened. Luckily, Mother found her two cousins, Pnina and Basia. They were sisters. Pnina lived in Vilnius on Pilimo street. They had a butcher shop and were reasonably well-to-do. They had two children, Grisha and Tzilia. Basia lived with her husband in Shiauliu. Her children were killed in the "children Action." Later Basia and her husband managed to escape from the ghetto. Basia worked as a head accountant at the Shiauliu factory Veristas. Basia's husband had a job as a supply manager. Basia took my sister to live with them and took care of her while she was healing. Then Basia helped my sister to get a secretarial job at the factory. Sister had lived with Basia for a year and Basia and her husband were very nice and caring. Unlike Pnina and her husband. Mother worked at Pnina's shop, cleaning, cutting meat, it was a very hard work, but the pay was only in the form of food. I also worked for them, housekeeping, babysitting, cleaning the house, all that - for food.

After the war Basia gave birth to a child in the Red Cross hospital where Jewish babies just were not surviving. This was a Basia's tragedy.

In the end of 1946 my sister came back home. That was when we learned that our relatives decided to cross the border illegally. They succeeded, ended up in Poland and later came all the way to America. That was Pnina's family. They did well in America. They owned a furniture factory there.

Basia and her husband tried their luck crossing the border too. They were caught, arrested and put in jail for three years.

Some time after her joining us, my sister ran into her former schoolmate who was able to help Sister with a job as a secretary at the planning department of the Lithuanian Council of Ministers. Meanwhile we were still living in that cold room, through freezing and wet winter, sleeping on sacks filled with wood shavings. I got very ill, with bilateral pneumonia. Those were hard times. My uncle rarely showed up. Mother had been looking for ways to make some money. Since many Poles were emigrating and going to Poland, they were selling their belongings for rather low prices. Mother was borrowing money, buying furniture, bedding, pots and pans, plates and cups. and selling them to local people for higher prices. That was called speculation, and it allowed Mother to make some money during those difficult times when everything was rationed. Also, much to our joyous surprise, my sister became eligible to move in an apartment: three rooms on Stiklu street, building number six. That was a true stroke of luck which made us so happy.

I had also started working, in the Jewish Museum. My job was to sift through piles of junk, fishing out important documents and valuable papers that would be needed by Jews. I was making pennies. My sister also was working for peanuts, however, she was eligible to receive additional ration cards which was very helpful.

In 1947 I got a job as a trainee at Tiesa printing house. A very good man Chaim Slivkin was my mentor. He taught me how to impose made-up pages and how to operate the linotype machine. I was happy to acquire a profession. That was the time of workdays with unlimited hours, We would put in 18-20 hours in order to publish the paper on time. I fell ill with Typhus, and by the time I recovered, working in a printing house was no longer an option due to complications that affected my legs. And so I went back to school taking the evening classes.

My Sister

My sister who had graduated from a gymnasium (high school) before the war, now had no desire to go back to school. She was suffering from headaches and thought that studying was out of question. She was easily slipping into depression, had no friends, no young crowd to belong. She was twenty-four years old, and Mother was very concerned because there were so few young men around after the war. My sister preferred to stay home where she knitted skillfully and drew well.

In a Market Place Mother met a woman, Sonia Moiseevna Kabishcher, from Vitebsk, who wanted to meet my sister. Sonia Moiseevna happened to see her, and noticed her beauty, her well-built body. And this clever woman, a good housekeeper, also liked my mother. Sonia Moiseevna was looking for a suitable bride for her handsome son, Efim Moiseevich. The young man studied in a vocational school before the war, became a tankist and fought in the war, returned to Vilnius after the war and started teaching at a vocational school. Mother and son came over with a visit, and my sister liked the handsome young man. Efim also seemed to be interested in Sister, but my mother had her doubts. Sister had had two other suitors but because of Efim's looks he became the one she wanted to marry. She felt that God himself sent her this good-looking man. And so in the end of 1948 they got married. It was a family gathering, with a chuppah. Shortly after the wedding Efim was mobilized again and he stayed in the military, became a Major, and served in the city of Sovetsk, not far from Kaliningrad. A child was born to them, They named the girl Zelina in memory of our father Zelig. Zelina was a sickly child. Also the married life of my sister was full of complexities. Efim had an uneasy personality, the difference in backgrounds resulted in a big difference in mentalities. The outside beauty rarely promises a match with the inside qualities. My brother-in-law had been an arrogant, egotistic man, rude and demanding, a very distant father. He would never pick the child up, he hit the girl often. He never would give her a kiss although the child looked so much like her dad. She grew up to be a beautiful woman, very rigid and still sickly. I do not want to blame Zelina, she has her own baggage of childhood memories. She is now a mother and a Grandmother. She married Lev Meerovich, a good man, hardworking, devoted to his wife, son, and Grandchildren. They've had a good life together, except Lev is very taciturn, and Zelina complains that she has no one to talk to. Zelina is an English teacher. She gives private lessons. This is a short description of my sister's life and her family.

My life

Now - my life story. On July 15th, 1948 I met a young man from Shiauliai, Boris Gafanovich, from a family that had been very well-to-do before the war. His father owned two factories, and when the Soviets came, the father was arrested, the factories confiscated, and the family was forced into exile in Siberia in 1941. Boris, his sister Fania and their mother lived in Oirot-tur, and later, in Bijsk.

We met each other by chance under pleasant circumstances. My friend Chasia Michlis and I were strolling along Gidemino, the central street of the city, where Boris and his friend were also taking a walk. The guys started a conversation with us. I got somewhat nervous since I didn't know them. But Chasia knew them and told me that these two Jewish young man were known to her.

And so Boris offered us an invitation to a Birthday Party. I was quite surprised and tried to figure out how come he knew my birth date. But the invitation was to his Birthday party... Incidentally, we were born on the same date, but two years apart: he on the 17th of July, 1928, and I on the 17th of July, 1930.

And so we took a nice walk, and then Boris invited us to a summer cafe for some ice cream, and then he saw me home. Well, my mother was a strict woman, and my curfew was the nine o'clock in the evening. That evening I arrived home at eleven... My sister told me that Mother had been waiting for me, and that she was angry. Mother thought I was too young for dating. Mother was worried about her being able to handle two almost grown daughters, to prepare them for life, and she chose to be very strict with us. By that time the material outlook of our life had been greatly improved: we both worked and gave our earnings to Mother, which were common arrangements. Mother decided who needed what and what purchases to make. Sister was getting ready for her wedding. She had a nice room with fine furniture from Mother's business of buying things that the emigrating Poles were selling. Mother had a good taste, and the whole apartment looked nice, clean, and orderly.

And so started our daily dates with Boris. He was a University student studying at the department of history and philology. We fell in love and decided to get married.

But the times turned to the worse again. The authorities started deportations to Siberia of all those who managed to illegally return from their exile of 1941, along with the Lithuanian bandits.

In November 1948 Boris' father returned from his prison. This made my mother's resistance to our marriage even stronger. She thought we were still too young for married life: what would we live on? Where would we live? But we were deeply in love, and all these restrictions resulted in our losing our heads one day, and I became a woman. Boris kept telling me that we would definitely get married, meanwhile I quickly became pregnant. I was so very naive... Misfortunes followed: arrest of Boris' father, Boris' expulsion from the University "for cosmopolitism." He was writing poetry, prose, he rarely spent nights at home lest he too would be arrested, When he was writing, he wrote about Freedom. Although he was a good student, he had a premonition that something was going to happen, imminently. His mother was ill, and he decided to visit her. He had left our apartment and immediately returned to give me the two tickets to the opera Demon that he had in his pocket. His intuition didn't fail him. As soon as he entered his mother's room, there appeared people from the Ministry of Internal Affairs and demanded his documents. According to the documents there were two people with the last name Gafanovich: his father Chaim Gafanovich, and he, Boris Gafanovich. The mother's passport identified her by her maiden name, and Boris' sister's married name was Golub. Her husband was a Communist.

That's how it happened that both father and Boris got arrested and deported to Siberia, the town of Bodaibo, in Irkutsk region. There was a maximum security gold mining labor camp there for murderers, bandits sentenced to 25 years in labor camps. Boris' father worked there in a lumber warehouse, Boris worked as laborer loading and unloading heavy objects. Boris wasn't a physically strong man, and the job was exhausting. Reuvin Ioffe, another Jew from our town was also there. He was a young and strong guy. Later several more families joined them, also deported from their hometowns in Moldova. Erlich, a family of five. Five people from the family Soroker, and Lesnik family consisting of three.

The prisoners were skillful thieves, and Boris' father who was responsible for the warehouse had to be vigilant. Several months had passed before i got the first letter from Boris from which I learned where they ended up.

That day when Boris and his father were arrested I was at work, packing up salt and sugar. In the evening I came home and my crying, anxious mother told me what happened. I didn't know yet about my pregnancy, but what about our plans to get married? I was devastated. The way I was brought up, I was so very naive that I had no idea that I could possibly be pregnant. In my understanding, one had had to be married for a year and then a baby might be born. I hadn't had my periods since the war. Physically I was strong, big-boned, ate with a great appetite, bloomed like a flower. And then all of a sudden a "miracle" happened. We were sitting at the dinner table, and my belly started moving, frightening me. My sister asked me what was wrong, and I told her that for several months I had felt like some kittens were circling inside my belly. My sister immediately realized what was going on, and of course, she told Mother. Mother got hysterical: "what would people say!?" What a great shame: her daughter was pregnant, out of wedlock!

Mother took me to a gynecologist Dr. Levishanu, Mother decided that an abortion was due. But the doctor refused to proceed with an abortion explaining that it would make me childless for life. He actually told Mother: 'If this baby is such a problem for you, then I can raise the child!" Mother couldn't calm down, "how did THIS happen???" The Hysterics went on. She stopped talking to me, and I decided to leave home. I thought I would join my husband in Siberia.

When Boris learned about my pregnancy and my mother's indignation, he asked me to refuse an abortion and to come to live with him. Life at home became very difficult, I felt unwanted, and I actually moved out of the home and in with my best friend Polina, Polen'ka. Polina with Ekutiel and Boris with me used to be a foursome - before Boris' arrest. Now Polina worked in a grocery store. It was a hard job, but she took me in and shared everything with me. Meanwhile I had to figure out how to travel to Siberia. I had no idea where to start, and decided to ask Basia, Mother's cousin, for her advice. By that time she had been freed after her sentence for an attempt to cross the border illegally. I told Basia everything, and she understood me, agreed with my decision to join Boris, and promised to help.

I went home and announced my plans to go to my husband who had been waiting for me and the baby. Hysterics followed. Why did she save me from Hitler? - to send to Siberia where bears walk down the streets? I stood my ground. How could it be that at home they treated me as a mere child, whereas back in German camps I was an adult and behaved like one. And at home also I was a Cinderella, cleaning, washing clothes in the evenings, dead tired after my work shifts at the printing house. For that I was an adult...

Boris' mother and his sister also disagreed with my plans to go to Siberia. They were well off, with Fania's husband, a Communist and a dealer, successful money-maker, who brought home his booties from the war. They were all against me and my plans.

So it was Basia who went with me to Moscow, bought me a ticket to Irkutsk, gave me a sack with apples and a chocolate bar, and some money. Mother made me a coat and gave some money. And I had a bit of money from my job that I got when resigned. That and two dresses and old underwear would describe all my belongings.

It was a difficult travel. I was in my seventh month of pregnancy, and found it hard to lie down on hard berth for seven days and nights of trip by train from Moscow to Irkutsk. On October 11th, 1949 I arrived in Irkutsk. Of course, there was no one to meet me at the railroad station. I walked over to hotel Siberia. They had no vacancies, and I spent the night in an armchair in the lobby. Next morning I knocked on the door of the hotel manager who happened to be a Jewish man Kalmanovich. He and his wife took care of me very nicely. They offered me a room for a ruble and a half per day.

I needed to figure out how to plan my trip to Bodaibo, twelve hundred kilometers away, where Boris lived. One could get there either by ship or by air. For me the ship option didn't exist because of the end of the navigation season. The air travel was also out of question because of my advanced pregnancy: they were afraid that I would give birth in the air during this difficult flight. My Russian wasn't good, I spoke poorly, and had trouble understanding.

My money was diminishing, I really didn't know what to do, when I learned from the hotel manager about some Jewish families in town who were also deported from Lithuania. I took the address and found Vera and Fima Shagal and Mrs. Fine from Kaunas. They extended their welcome to me and I moved in with them. It was much less costly. although I had to sleep on a small cote, rather uncomfortable, but I felt that I had no choice.

From these people I learned that Shlemo Golub, the husband of Boris' sister, was in Irkutsk. He came there on order to arrange the move to Irkutsk for Boris and his father. Unfortunately this didn't work out. When, after a month of my stay in Irkutsk, I managed to get a telephone connection with Boris, he was delighted to learn that I was in Irkutsk. He too told me about that attempt to move them to Irkutsk, and told me to make an appointment to see Colonel Tomashov who had promised Shlemo to help with the relocation.

I was deeply offended by all these secrecy. It looked like the family didn't want me to join Boris. Should I have known about all these plans, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to travel to Siberia. But as the saying goes, that too was for the best. I had started my daily visits to Tomashov's office. He refused to see me, but in the waiting room I demanded either helping me to make that trip to Bodaibo or to bring Boris and his father to Irkutsk. I stated that my condition had deteriorated, I was out of money, I ate once a day, I was going to give birth right there in the waiting room of Colonel Tomashov's office in the Ministry of Internal Affairs.

Somehow that worked: on November 20th a cable arrived. Boris and his father got the permission to relocate to Irkutsk and I had to find a room to rent. . I was so happy. I rented a room from an elderly couple, Wassily Ivanovich and Antonina Petrovna, on the Second Sovetskaya Street. It was a tiny house from a fairy tale that I had never read, almost totally covered with snow during that long Siberian winter. The windows were almost on the ground level. In the morning petit and skinny Antonina Petrovna crawled through the chimney pipe all the way out on the roof. She used a huge shovel to clean the snow off the roof, then she would slide down off the roof and clear the snow away from the door and the windows. Then Wassily Ivanovich would emerge through the door and make two paths in the snow: one to the barn and the other - to the well.

Wassily Ivanovich and Antonina Petrovna were very nice to me, they made sure that every morning I drank milk fresh from the cow and ate eggs. They taught me to eat salted lard with bread and garlic. I learned to cook a cabbage soup using fermented cabbage and pork. The life went on.

And then the long awaited for day came and Boris and his father arrived. The room had one bed.

A new episode of the soap opera of my life started. Boris' father saw me, very pregnant, and got angry and agitated. He kept telling Boris that the baby wasn't his. He refused to give me money to buy food. He shouted accusations. To me --- that I wanted to be a burden on his shoulders. To Boris --- that he was good for nothing. As a result, we lost the room and I had to look for another place to rent while Boris and his father were looking for a job.

Fortunately I managed to find a room with a little table, one stool, a small portable stove and two beds, each with a sack filled with wood shavings to serve as a mattress. The landlord was a Tatar with a wife, a small child of four or five and a sheep-dog on a long wire leach that allowed it to run everywhere in the yard. By that time I was in my ninth month and when a package with food from Boris' mother arrived, it was very welcome. This is what happened then: The package included bacon. The little Tatar boy saw us eating it and asked for some. He was often around, that nice little boy. I had no idea about Tatar's food restrictions, and when the kid got a bit of bacon from me and tasted it, and liked it, he showed it to his mother. Of course we had no idea about their tradition, her reaction was fierce and swift: she set the dog on me, The dog went for me and I fell down. Then she stopped the dog and kept shouting that now I would have learned my lesson and remember it forever.

The pains in the lower part of my stomach ensued. But I was afraid to say a word. I had been told that labor would start as back pains, and that would signal the time to go to the hospital. I was extremely naive and knew nothing about childbirth, knew nothing about stomach pains. I decided to tough it out. For four days I a suffered these pains and would say nothing to Boris or G-d forbid, to his father. Instead I decided to walk down the hill to a shop to get bread. The wooden sidewalks were piling with snow here on the outskirts of the city. It was slippery, I fell down and my waters broke. People helped me to get up, and I was terribly embarrassed because I thought it was urine. I decided to wait for Boris to get home and when he did we started our two kilometer walk to the hospital. It was freezing, thirty-five degrees Celsius. I was nineteen and a half and he was twenty-one and a half, so young, so inexperienced. We knew nothing about life, ways to deal with problems, difficulties, and we had no one to advise us.

Boris had been working as a laborer on a shoe factory, loading and unloading heavy objects. He was skinny and poorly developed physically. His weight was 48 kilo and he was always hungry. All the money that he earned he was giving to his father who also had a job and was getting reasonable wages. But the custom was that the elder gets all the money and gives away as much as he thinks is right to the younger ones. He was giving us mere kopeks and we were always hungry.

In the hospital I had spent three days in the labor room before I got some attention and care. I suffered from hypertension, swelling and was semiconscious. So they decided to operate on me and started preparing the operating room. Meanwhile the baby was born. He came when no one was around. Our Zelig was born December 29th, 1949.

I had to stay in the hospital for twelve days because of hemorrhages and severe loss of blood. Boris' father had calmed down since the baby was a boy, the continuation of the family name. That didn't make him any less stingy, he still was holding tightly to each kopek which became a big problem because I didn't have the breast milk, and couldn't buy milk for the baby who wasn't gaining weight, cried day and night because of hunger. In the children's clinic I was told that since I wasn't breastfeeding the baby, I would be put in jail. Finally they checked and saw for themselves that I didn't have any milk, and prescribed special milk from the baby kitchen. The problem of having no money to buy that baby food prevented me from getting it. Fortunately, someone I knew also gave birth at the same time and she had enough milk for two babies and agreed to nurse our Zelig. She had been doing it for a year and the child grew and gained weight

Boris' father kept finding ways to humiliate me. He would give me two and a half rubles and send me to buy one kilo of beef plus bread and milk. I would come home with my purchases to hear his angry accusations. He would say that I bought less than a kilo of meat, that it was a poor quality meat. When the meat shrunk as a result of cooking, he would say that I secretly ate a portion, he planned to have these meat meals to last for three days. Because of these accusations I chose to never eat any meat. For the baby I learned to cook hot cereals. Zelig turned three month, he became healthier, healthy enough for performing the circumcision, and we arranged Brit-mila for him. Our landlady allowed us to have it performed in her big room. There were complications, the dressing wasn't done correctly, and the child managed to tear it away which lead to extensive bleeding. A Jewish doctor in the hospital stopped the bleeding and saved the child. After Brit Mila we moved to the house of the parents of our Tatar landlady. Zelig was gaining weight and developing nicely. We had a bigger room full of light, with a normal bed, a table, stools, and an oven.

The situation in Lithuania was turning to the worse in 1950-1951. Boris' father brought his wife and daughter in Irkutsk. Fania's son Elik was six, seven or eight months old. He suffered from spasms that sometimes made him faint. That meant calcium deficiency and lack of vitamin D and the Sun. The guests didn't stay with us for a long time. They had money and rented a house. Boris' father went to live with them.

Boris was making 25 rubles a month. That was all our income. We paid rent of five rubles, and we couldn't make the ends meet, so I wanted to arrange for day care for Zelig and go to work. Although I had skills for working in a publishing house, I wasn't hired because I had a small child.

The woman who nursed Zelig, Nadia Shapiro, suggested that we move into her apartment because they were moving out. And we moved into this larger apartment with a kitchen, more light, and two rooms, one of which we were renting out in order to keep up with our own rent. Boris's parents and sister offered us no help although both Boris' father and Fania's husband were well paid. But my mother forgave me and started sending packages with bacon, apples, and other foodstuff. I was selling apples on the farmer's market, leaving just enough for the child. I also started working for a family cleaning their house for food and a bit of money.

Boris was young and had no idea about parenting, bonding with his son. He seemed to be annoyed with us, partly because his family was inciting him against us, partly because of sleep deficiency. Zelig had very painful teething, eight teeth coming at the same time. He cried through the night, and Boris would go to work after sleepless nights. It was hard on him. and it lead to our fighting, arguing right when I discovered that I became pregnant again. We just couldn't afford another child, always hungry, shoeless, covered with rags.

I decided to tell my mother-in-law about my pregnancy. She decided to stop it at once and found a nurse and paid her 10 publes. The nurse gave me a shot into the cervix which started labor. She did it in her house and told me to go home. I came to my mother-in-law, and she set me up on a cote in the hallway. Labor intensified, and two fetuses emerged, twins, but the placenta wouldn't come out. My mother-in-law ran to the nurse and told her what was going on, The nurse got worried, she came and washed her hands with a disinfectant, and started getting the placenta out. She was afraid I would die. It was horribly painful, but she succeeded. She gave me a large doze of penicillin and also sulfamids. It seemed like I got through all that, but soon I developed furunculosis, abscesses inside and out, in my belly, on the shoulder, in my eye. I was very sick, with a high fever, and no help from anybody whatsoever. It was in the end of summer 1951, Zelig was twenty-two months old.

I lost a lot of weight, was very weak, could hardly walk.. Fights with Boris continued, he still was unable to become a responsible father and husband.

All seemed to develop just like in a saying: when Hardship enters through the door, Love leaved through the window... And another saying, A husband loves a healthy wife, a brother loves a wealthy sister. Here I was lacking both the health and the wealth, and my husband lost his love for me. I felt terribly lonesome, ill, and poor. No one needed me. And I wrote to my mother a letter asking her to send me money for the train ticket because I wanted to return home.

Back to Lithuania

My sister lived with her husband in Sovetsk where her officer-husband served in the Army. Their little girl lived with my mother in a summer place in Pospeshki.

When Mother met me at the railroad station, she burst in tears. Here I was with a heavy wet eczema on my head, Zelig had started developing rickets. He was a very small child, hadn't started to talk yet. Mother took us to the summer place, the dacha, At my mother's we got good food, dairy products, eggs, none of which we had in Irkutsk. We ate fruit and vegetable, something I hadn't seen for two years. Back in Irkutsk I was raising my baby on a mix of water and milk... I used to work for food, strangers had pity for me. Once Shlemo saw me and said, "you must leave, this is no life for you." That was when I wrote that letter to Mother... To my mother who just couldn't forgive me for making my own decision to leave home and move to Siberia.

But I wasn't the only one to be blamed. Mother simply didn't know how to protect me, her daughter, from people and their gossip. And I didn't want my family to be ashamed of me. I also loved Boris very much and felt that it was my duty to join him. But nothing worked out the way I planned. We often find ourselves in situations that we certainly do not deserve. I understood that should I stay in Irkutsk, I wouldn't survive, and Zelig would become an orphan. That I couldn't allow. Regarding my broken relationship with Boris, I realized that it was because of his parents and sister. I truly hoped that it would take some time, but he would figure it out...

My sister came back from Sovettsk, and helped me to find a good dermatologist, Dr. Kamensky, who worked in the clinic for college students. This man saved me. The wet eczema on my head transformed my beautiful hair into a mass glued together by the itchy excretion. I wanted to cut my hair very short. "No, we are not cutting the hair, " said the doctor. He also said that my nervous system was injured. He was right, I could hardly sleep at all. And he started to treat me. Dr. Kamensky was making ointments, washed my hair and applied the medications, some by rubbing it into the skin, some by injections. His treatment had worked, I was cured by Dr. Kamensky.

Moving to Irkutsk

Boris wanted us to return, he loved us, in his own way, and was longing for his family. He also was sending me some money. But each time I thought of going back, the memories of the hell that my life had been in Siberia would come to me and I couldn't make that decision. And one evening, very late, I was at my mother's and already asleep when I heard a doorbell. It was Boris' mother who came to get me and take me to Boris. I was greatly surprised. Back in Irkutsk they all had only wanted to get rid of me, even Shlemo told me to leave. This is what I understood: Boris was very angry with his family and demanding that his mother brought me back to him. Otherwise, he claimed, he would kill himself. Well, this interpretation of the events back in Irkutsk was not the real reason for Boris' mother's appearance in Lithuania. The real reason was quite different. The real reason was that the family discovered a secret mistress of Boris' father. So Boris' mother and sister decided to return to Vilnius, this would have left Boris lonesome. That made him remember that he actually had his own family. He definitely didn't want to live with his father, This was when Boris started blaming his mother for forcing me to leave. Anyway, I would find out all this only much later. Meanwhile I was under the impression that my husband's desire to get his family back was great.

My mother was appalled by my decision. And it was so true that our life with Mother was very good. We had regained health, Zelig started talking, Mother loved him very much. She bought him a winter fur coat, he was such a beautiful child at his thirty months. My sister and her husband suggested that I leave the child with them, actually they wanted me to stay and marry a friend of my brother-in-law. But I loved Boris, he was my son's father and I felt that I had to join him in Irkutsk. And so I made my decision.

Mother was deeply offended. She kept reminding me, "think back, think what condition you were in when you came here, remember what they had done to you"...

Boris, as I've said, had been sending some money for us, he certainly felt guilty, but didn't have the courage to admit his fault. He was very happy when we returned, but that was when the secret of his father's mistress and his mother's departure came out. Boris' father was a lady man. The name of his mistress was Lia Solomonovna, and with her by Boris' father's side, we actually started a peaceful life. Zelig started at the day care. We rented a nice room with air heating from Lia Solomonovna's sister. Her name was Rachil Solomonovna, her husband's name was Chanania Michailovich Korbuh. They had two sons. The older boy, Misha, was sixteen, He was deaf and mute, a hard-working guy. The younger boy, Ura, was nine, a smart little boy, a good student at his school. It was a nice family, and they treated us nicely, and were helpful with Zelig. I got a new job as a sales person in a store selling chemicals and medical equipment. The liquid chemicals were stored in huge jars that held up to twenty-five liters. Large sacks were filled with various salts. It was hard labor in a very cold store that was lacking any heating system. I got ill. Measles with complications. And Zelig got it from me. Help came from our good friends who also had been deported to Bodaibo from Moldova. They studied medicine, and Sonia Soroker studied to become a physician's assistant. These friends often had Zelig stay with them. I started my studies in Nursing school in a one-year program in pediatrics for very young children. I attended classes at day time and worked nights in the orphanage for babies. I studied well and graduated the school with honors. Zelig had to stay in a day care that worked around the clock. I would take him home on Friday and bring him back on Monday. On Fridays when I worked in the evening, our landlady, Rachil Solomonovna would get Zelig at the day care and bring him home. My little boy had been with me through all that hardship, both before our Lithuanian period at my mother's and after. It was only during that time at my mother's in the country when the child got to taste good food for the first time, his first chicken egg, his first meat broth...

Little by little our financial matters had been improving. My mother was sending us packages with handsome leather coats of very good quality. And we were selling them to a commission shop, where previously owned goods were sold on commission. Because of high quality of these coats we easily managed to sell them for a substantial profit: for twice as much as the original price back in Lithuania.

Boris also went back to school and graduated from college with a teaching degree in Literature and Russian Language. Upon his graduation he landed a job at school in a State Farm in a settlement Ignino in Kuitunsky region. That Pig Farm was located in a swampy area, the locals drank a lot and engaged in hooliganism. Zelig and I joined Boris there in the winter. He was waiting for us with two weak horses at Station Zima. It took us three freezing hours to get to Ignino. It was 1954. I worked there as a nurse till the spring when Zelig and I traveled to Vilnius. The leather coats continued to provide a much needed support for us.

In 1955 a window of opportunity opened; to move to Poland, and from Poland to Israel. The way it was formulated, "Whoever is from Vilnius, those can emigrate from the country---to Poland." But my father-in-law and other deported people were afraid to try it. It was understood that the Ministry of Internal Affairs could easily change the destination and send people to do logging in the taiga or to fabricate some political incrimination against them. In 1956 the authorities freed all deported individuals with higher education with the following imposed limitation on residence: they couldn't live in cities, but only in outlying districts.

Our first place of residence was in settlement Adutiskis of Svencionys district in a collective farm Nemunas. Boris got a teaching job there in a Russian school, but there was no job for me. Around the New Year Eve we spent winter vacation in Vilnius visiting my mother. And in due time our family grew bigger: I gave birth to our daughter on October 2, 1958.

In 1959 we moved closer to Vilnius, to Shalchininkai. There I got a half-time job in the Day Care for infants, and there I was allowed have my daughter with me. Boris' new job there was a directorship of a club-house. He is a good organizer, and so he managed to plan and direct there various armature talent activities. A bit later he also started teaching German at school (he had completed a correspondence course in German offered by a Kiev college)

in 1960 Boris was promoted to a position of an evening school principal and I switched to full day employment in a hospital and a physiotherapy clinic. That was when we felt much more secure financially. We bought some furniture, a TV set. Still we had been moving every year from one rental apartment to another till 1965 when we got a state apartment consisting of a room and a half, and a kitchen. In addition we got fifteen "sotkas" of land. (Sotka is equal to 100 square meters.) Five sotkas near the house where we lived - for a vegetable garden, and ten farther away in the field - to plant potatoes. In the garden we grew different vegetables. The land in the field we offered to our neighbor who agreed to supply enough potatoes for us to last through winters, but keep the rest for himself.

Our children were growing. Zelig was a schoolboy, Gitochka spend her days in a Day Care. Zelig was a very good brother, my helper, my right hand man. He often watched his sister, he was the one to pick her up and bring home in the end of a day, fed her the evening meal. Boris was very busy with his work in the club-house, teaching school, and working as the principal of the evening school.

Meanwhile I decided to continue my education. I became a student in a Medical college studying nursing. I had to commute to Vilnius to attend lectures three times a week. I graduated from this three and a half year course in 1968. All the while I was looking for a job in Vilnius. The job that I landed was in the Surgery of the Third Clinical Hospital. The head of the surgical department was a famous Doctor Shirmenis. He helped me so much. He was like a father to me. He had various connections and used them to help me to get the right to live in Vilnius. He also was instrumental in my joining the Coop that was under constructions. Of course, the coop meant a huge debt, but in 1968 our apartment on the second floor of 100 Jirmunu was ready, and we moved in. We had two and a half rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. Our Zelig finished High School in 1967, but had no time to take entrance exams to college because in 1968 he was drafted into the Army. Our Gitochka was ten years old. The children understood well our financial situation. I worked overtime and also took night jobs nursing very ill people. Boris still worked his three jobs in Shalchininkai. He only spent Sundays with us. Since Zelig was serving in the Army we rented out his room. This is how we were paying off our debts. Our tenants were a married couple Alla and Victor Milgo, very decent people. Alla was a nurse and worked with me. Victor was an engineer. We decided to help them and arranged their registration as residents in our apartment.

Meanwhile Boris managed to get a job in Vilnius, in School #18. That became possible thanks to efforts of Dr. Ostapenco and his wife Rosalia Michailovna who worked for the City Board of Education. Once Boris moved in with us our life became even better.

Our daughter was a schoolgirl. She was often ill. She experienced bouts of pain in her tummy and even had to stay in a hospital with what was diagnosed as a stomach ulcer. Actually it was not the only diagnosis, doctors couldn't figure out what her problem was. It was decided to perform an exploratory laparotomy, and learned that it had nothing to do with a stomach ulcer, instead it was Mezodonit, an inflammation of peritonium

Once the correct diagnosis was made, a proper treatment turned Gita into a healthy girl.

The time was going by, and Zelig finished his Army service and returned home. In 1970 we all, including Zelig, were participating in Jewish Amateur Ensemble "Anachnu Kan." It consisted of a big choir with soloists, a drama group, and a group of dancers. It also was the time when we started thinking seriously about emigration from the Soviet Union. We applied for exit visas to go to live in Israel in 1970. Our application was rejected with no reasons for rejection stated. Zelig became an activist, and we also started the fight with authorities for our right to leave the country. We met with other activists, both in the country and the foreigners. We participating in writing open letters and gave them to foreign journalists. We initiated international telephone contacts and shared the information about the Soviet Jews who were denied their right to emigrate, about our planned and executed actions, such as going to Moscow to demonstrate against the authorities, holding the hand-made posters that read, "Let My People Go!" I was arrested on Moscow and spent some time in jail sharing the cell with other Jews from different cities.

The authorities had started prosecutions against Zelig. He was arrested and taken to the KGB headquarters where he was told that if he ever does make it to Israel, it would be as a cadaver, with white sleepers on his feet.

The KGB sent their bandits who ganged up on our daughter Gitochka beating her up and scaring her.

That was the last drop for me. With help of my friend who happened to work in the office of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, I got an appointment with Comrade Petraishis, the Head of the Department of Ideology. To him I said, "If a single hair falls off my son's head, I'll blow up all of you here! I have nothing to lose. I have been through the Ghetto and the Nazi Concentration Camps, through Siberia and your bandits! And I'll still be around long after your demise!" He didn't do a thing to escalate this issue. He and I had known each other, and it was not in his interests to allow a word about this conversation to get out of the door. From that time on officially we were off the list of those whom the persecute, but we still were closely watched. I was demoted from my position of the Head Nurse in my Department . The director of the hospital, Dr. Didjulis, worried about me, he was afraid that I would get arrested. The head of my Department, Dr. Shirmenis, also was worried. The two men asked me to stop my activities.

Fortunately, at that time Zelig managed to get connected to Mr. Wilson, from England, who promised to help.

And one day Zelig was summoned to the office of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. We came with him and were nervously waiting just outside the building. Zelig walked out quite excited, he said that they demanded his explanation of his connection to Mr. Wilson. "Our Uncle," was Zelig's answer. And the third of March, 1975 was the day when we were told that we had three weeks to finish up everything and leave the country.

Our decision was to get Zelig out first. I had this admonition that the authorities might try to do something to him, My intuition didn't fail me. A few days later we got visitors who came to get Zelig. But Zelig was already in TelAviv!!! Now we managed to calm down a bit, prepare for our own departure and we left the country on March 29th, 1975.

We arrived in Vienna and spend there the holiday of Passover. The Shin Bet people conducted check ups and told us that canned food wasn't allowed as "there was a possibility that explosives were hidden in the cans". Of course we did as we thought would be right and took the cans with us. While we were in Vienna we were treated very nicely, a delicious food was served to us. It was cold in Europe, and we still wore out heavy winter coats on April the sixth, 1975. when we arrived in Israel and were met by Hamsin, a hot dry wind blowing from the desert and the temperature was 30 to 35 degrees Celsius.

Zelig had made arrangements for us to live in a temporary apartment in Haifa because we didn't want to stay in an absorption center where we would have to listen to complaints and moaning of the new immigrants.

Out friends, the Okuns, took us to stay with them for a week while all the paperwork was being done, with great help of Ilia Okun, of blessed memory. Then we got the key to our own apartment, three rooms and a kitchen on the forth floor of a building in a nice neighborhood, very green. Since our baggage hadn't arrived yet, the first night we slept on the floor, on top of our heavy winter coats. Ten days later there arrived three beds with mattresses, three pillows and three blankets, three chairs and a small table, along with some kitchen stuff. But we had no money, and couldn't buy the food, so there was no cooking, and we ate the canned food and dry sausages that we brought with us from Lithuania. A few dollars that we were allowed to take with us when we left the Soviet Union, came handy as we could use them to buy sugar, bread, and pay for transportation to the Ulpan, the center for learning Hebrew Language.

The apartment was considered temporary, the first year rent was paid for by the Ministry of Absorption, the second year we paid a half of the rent ourselves, and the third year we paid the full rent.

After one week of studying the language. I was taken out of Ulpan and sent to the RamBam hospital to work as a nurse in neuro-surgery.

WORK

Here starts the Israeli part of my life. I was hired by the assistant to the Head Nurse. Her name was Lily Markovich, and she was originally from Romania. She literally despised the Russian Olim (Immigrants) and never made a secret of it, being quite vocal about her feelings. She assigned me to wash basins in the utility room thus keeping me away from the patients. This had been going on for full three weeks until the Head Nurse, Chaim Kizel returned to the hospital. This work assignment filled him with indignation. He ordered to immediately introduce me to all aspects of work in the neuro-surgery. He tested my knowledge in Pharmacology and was pleased. My education was accepted as that of a certified surgical nurse. Chaim had been very helpful with my mastering Hebrew. Unlike the impatient professor of neuro-surgery, formerly from Germany, who was in a habit of stomping his feet while demanding. "Rak Ivrit!" ("Only Hebrew!") I feared him. But once he determined that he could rely upon me, he totally changed his behavior toward me.

Nurse Lily Markovich, however kept humiliating me rather painfully. Some time had passed and I decided to put an end to this humiliation. A serious conflict ensued, with involvement of the Head Nurse of the whole hospital, Mrs. Rosa Aren. Mrs. Aren took my side and Lily was moved to another department. I had been working in neuro-surgery for fifteen years, was promoted to a position of the head nurse of the shift.

Unfortunately, as a result of a serious auto-accident, working there became very difficult for me and I had to ask for a transfer to the department of ophthalmology. I received a warm welcome there and worked there for eight years. The atmosphere in the ophthalmology was very family-like. All doctors and nurses still maintain a close relationship even now.

OUR CHILDREN

Zelig married Tzilia on the First of April, 1976, a year after our arrival in Israel. In spite of our depts., we and Tzilia's mother made a nice wedding for them. In 1978 their first son and our first grandson Yehoshua (Shuki) was born. It was the time of a great joy.

In 1981 our Gita got married. The children were very happy. And so were we. A wonderful Daughter-in-Law Tzilia, a very nice Son-in-Law Arcady (Alik).

In 1983 Yacov (Yasha), our second Grandchild was born to Gita and Alik.

During his birth we found out that Gitochka was very ill. It was determined that she had a cancerous tumor on the left ovary. I had to help out. I had switched to the night shift and spent my days in Tel Aviv where Gita's family lived in Parde-Katz. Alik had owned and apartment there.

Gitochka had to go through operations, Chemotherapy, We kept our hopes high, kept thinking that our dear daughter could be saved... Unfortunately, the heavy hemorrhage during the birth resulted in metastases. In two and a half years our Gita went through four operations and chemotherapy, but it didn't save her. The severe pain that she had suffered is impossible to describe; I shall never be able to forget her hurt and distress; it is always in my mind...

Alik, Gita's loving husband wouldn't leave her side. Between the chemotherapy sessions he arranged for travel with her, He wanted to show her the whole world, anything she would desire. Gita turned twenty seven on the second of October, 1985. She left us on the ninth of October. Gita was so beautiful, was a great hostess. a good cook, loved to please people. She also was a nurse, and liked to work with the elderly. She has entered the world to come, the Paradise.

We had been raising Yacov (Yasha), Gita's boy, till he turned five. Then Alik's parents moved in with Alik and Yasha, and were helping to bring the child up. He has grown into a tall, handsome, athletic boy, looks like his mother, let he live a long life.

Alik, Yasha's father loved our Gita very much. They had lived together for five years. When Yacov was six, Alik decided to marry Ira, a divorsee with a child from the first marriage. The name of the girl is Freeda. Yacov took this very hard. Ira has an authoritative personality and is not very clever. She treated the boy with strictness and severity. With time Yasha got used to her ways, but he became excitable, didn't apply himself in his studies. We were not around, I had to keep working before till my retirement in 1990. My husband Boris retired in 1992.

In 1983 on the forth of May our third Grandson was born. His name is Ariel. He is a smart boy, graduated from the Technion while serving in the Army. He will serve three more years after his graduation. He has a lovely girlfriend Yael who is also finishing her studies at the Technion. Ariel and Yael live in Haifa. Shuki, the older brother combines his studies with work. and so does Ariel.

Meanwhile we started seriously considering a move to Rishon LeTzion where Zelig lived with his family. And our Gitochka is buried there. But while we were taking time to make our decision, our Zelig moved to Reut. And that forced us to move. With 150 kilometers between Haifa and Reut and considering our ageing, we felt that traveling back and forth would keep becoming harder and harder.

Rishon LeTzion

In 1990 my sister Luba (Haviva) and her family arrived in Israel. Our mother died in 1988 (may she rest in peace) after five years of illness with Luba taking care of her. My sister first got settled in Haifa, but then moved to Rishon to be close to her daughter's family.

We moved to Rishon in 1997. I started a job as a nurse at the Senior Citizen Center. I knew how to approach these old and lonesome people. They also loved me. and I spent seven years working there, from 1998 till 2005. All together I had worked for fifty-four years! But then I began feeling very tired. Boris and I decided that I needed to retire and start taking better care of myself. I had had some problems with my spine, legs and blood circulation. I started my annual treatment in Peshtany, a resort in Slovenia, where they specialize in ailments of the spine and extremities. They can't do much, but still do offer treatments that result in improvement of movements, including walking. I do it every year, and it helps.

But no calm content life is fated for us and a new misfortune strikes us. Our only son Zelig has become very ill. In July 2007 he shared with us a terrible news: he had a colon cancer, and as I understood, it was the third stage already. He had to immediately start bio-chemo-therapy.

First it was six sessions, then a surgery. This is a very serious illness. May God give him the strength to fight it and to win. The first operation took place on the 28th of October 2007. There were several complications, and the surgery took six hours. He came out with a fistula in his side. The complications included the stomach cavities filled with liquids, Metastases on the liver, blocked intestines that could have resulted in severe intestinal obstructions, and worse.

After all these Zelig has to go through another set of Chemotherapy sessions, and then another surgery, at least as complicated as the one he has gone through. That would involve removal of the fistula, cleaning up the liver, removal of gallstones.. After that all depends upon his condition. It could be radiation treatment, more chemotherapy... May God give Zelig strength to go through all this. and strength to us too. We all hope that all will end well. The most important thing is that Zelig also thinks so. He is a man of a tremendous will power. he has had a healthy body, hasn't smoked, drunk. He must win this battle with cancer!

His boys are grownups. Shuki is 30, Ariel is 25. We are very proud of them.

How much of hardship has one to go through? How many misfortunes and how much of grief and sorrow?

Why murderers and thieves go easily through life? Why they are strong and healthy?

I had started to write this several years ago. I postponed it many times, rewrote parts, kept inserting more memories as they would come to my mind. It seems to be an endless process. And now this new fear to face. There is a saying, "Let God frighten us, But not punish us"

Tzilia, my daughter-in-Law, discovered a spot on her eye. Again fear, suspicions, scary feelings, This time, Thank God, it was only a scare.

We must go on living and hope for the better. Because Life goes on.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ ///////////////////////////////////////////// SARA GEFEN cont.

March 4, 2009

I am back to my writing. Unfortunately I have no good news. Cancer has spread again: Zelig has metastases on the liver, on the other side. The chemotherapy medication has been changed. The new one is much harder on him. He receives the medication every other week. Would it work? Only time will tell...

My poor son, how much patience he has! He told me, "I shall continue with treatment for as long as it can lengthen my life."

He took an early retirement from his job. The terms are very good, he had been working there for thirty-two years, with a commendation every single year. He still works there as a volunteer, putting in as many hours as he can.

When he is with us, he always holds himself, doesn't complain but tells us that he "can live with this!!!" He tries to find pleasure in every minute, which makes me glad. His will power is amazing. But on the other hand, here I see his hunger for life, his need to live every minute without missing a thing, his struggle to fill every day of life up to the brim. Whenever he feels better, he and Tsilia go on a trip. I am glad that they do.

The wedding of Arik and Yael was wonderful. Zelig danced filled with joy. His friends who do not leave Zelig even for a day, making him get his thoughts off the subject of his illness, the friends who make sure that at least one of them is with Zelig on the days of his chemotherapy treatments, these friends were all there at the wedding. The wedding took place in the kibbutz Palmachim, on the seashore at the time of sunset. It was so beautiful!.

Now I pray to G-d that Zelig will live to be at Shuki's wedding. Shuki has been with a very nice girl for over a year. They live in Tel Aviv, not far from Arik. We hope this will also lead to a wedding. The girl's name is Keren, she teaches English and American Literature in Israeli Universities. Shuki works in Aishek, his field is biology. And he also is working on his second degree at the University. He seems to be settled, He is thirty-one, a good man, responsible, helpful, and warm. He calls us every week to see if we need anything

Arik is twenty-six. He is very different. I would say a tiny bit arrogant, which probably helped him to build up his career. He is a Captain, very dedicated to his work, This makes him so much like Tsilia. He has been staying in the Army after completion of compulsory service.

Now about Yasha - Yaakov. He came back from the USA with little success. That was to be expected. Now he is thinking about acquiring a dual citizenship with Lithuania which would give him an opportunity to find work or some school program in Europe. I do not believe that would work either. He doesn't really want to study, and about getting a job... he has no profession, expect for a barman or a salesperson. Those are of little value these days. His father is a good man but he failed in helping Yasha to realize himself. Same is true about his Grandmother from his father's side. They had been very protective, chose to demand nothing from the boy, and we weren't allowed to interfere. Here are the results...

I shall return to my own problems. All my worries and hard feelings have an impact on my own health. I have a hypertension problem, the blood pressure may jump up to 200/110, I wake up in the middle of a night with bad headaches and nauseous. I take medications that help sometimes, but they are of no help at all when I am anxious and under stress....

The main thing is Zelig's condition. He doesn't tell me the truth, but I can see clearly how badly he feels. He doesn't want to make us worry, and I tell him nothing about myself. I know that he is worried about us. He is afraid to leave us behind, G-d forbid...

Another problem is with Boris. He is obsessed with politics, Netanyahu, and he is shoving his opinions down our throats. And Zelig's temperament has totally changed with his illness. He gets agitated, can't talk calmly, but Boris keeps winding him up.

-Zelig doesn't believe Netanyahu, dislikes him. He dislikes religion, G-d centered talks irritate him. He despises those religious people who choose to avoid working, who are known for their despicable treatment of members? of their families, such as rape, incest, etc, people who do not work but demand support from the State. Israel can't and should not provide for such people...

-Of course, I am not a politician, but I disagree with such a huge disparity in earnings when someone is paid 90,000 or 140,000 shekels while regular workers make 3,000 or in better cases, 8,000 per month.

-Boris is worried that Netanyahu wouldn't be able to form a government and blames Shas and Lieberman. In my opinion, they all love their cushy jobs and do not want to ever consider a compromise.

The worst thing about all these debates is that Boris doesn't understand how his irritability impacts my health...

I tend to think that Boris is not really fond of Zelig. This is something that showed even when Zelig was a little boy and Boris punished him with no reason. I was working long hours, but Gitochka, of blessed memory, sometimes told me. It was the time when we lived outside of city limits because we, the family of the deported, weren't allowed to reside in the city. I worked different shifts and studied at the Nursing School, I rarely was home. Zelig was taking care of Gitochka, always defended her. He loved her very much. Boris was working as a Director of a club-house. He was drinking. Sometimes I was ready to leave him, take the children and move somewhere... But when I graduated from the Nursing School, I managed to restore my right to reside in Vilnius. My boss, the head of the department was a very good man. He treated me as his own daughter. He helped me to qualify for membership in a condo. And in 1968 I and my children moved into that new apartment. Then Zelig was drafted into the Army. Gitochka grew into a big girl. I worked a lot because we were in debt, and I was trying to pay it off. Boris joined us in 1970. Zelig completed his service in the Army, came back home, and we decided to apply for an exit visa to go to Israel. I have already been talking about this earlier...

And now, the most important thing is to save Zelig. I do believe in a good outcome!!!

Why the men have no compassion? not all of them, but most of them,

Today, on March 18, 2009. Zelig finished his round of chemotherapy treatments. He is taking a two month break. After that there will be tests, many different tests. I will not be able to sleep until we get the results of these tests. Help us G-d! Let it be good!

What have I done? why did I survive the concentration camps? My childhood and youth were filled with fear and hunger. I lost my dear daughter when she was 27 and her little boy became an orphan at the age of 2 and nine months. And now my son is fighting with Death. My son who has gone through fire and water, who was growing up always hungry, who hardly knew the taste of milk...

Dear G-d, if It is my fault, give me a sign so that I'd be able to atone for my sins!

Why cutthroats, bandits live their lives healthy and victorious?

I want to write more but I have no more strength.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ ///////////////////////////////////////////// SARA GEFEN cont.
April 21, 2009

I am writing again to express on paper my pain and angst. I have no one to talk to and cry. And so I write.

My dear friend Lenochka is translating my writing into English, later I'll find a way to translate from English into Hebrew. Although it might not be needed because my Grandchildren know English.

Today was a very difficult day for me. Tomorrow is Holocaust Memorial Day. Today Zelig came and we sat down to eat. And all of a sudden Boris started criticizing Zelig and Tsilia, regarding the matters that are totally not his business. What right does he have to interfere rudely, to offer his coarse comments about Tsilia's mother and the fact that she lives with them? Even if they are wrong, it is none of our business. They might have certain considerations that we are not aware of. Yes, Tsilia's mother has a very difficult, terrible personality, but it is not something we ought to be discussing.

And why does Boris need to irritate Zelig who is so ill and high-strung? And how Zelig tried to explain calmly that Boris should not be interfering, it didn't work, and so Zelig didn't finish his meal and left...

Is it because of Boris' age that he can't control himself, that everything annoys him, that he only sees the bad side of the things?

I am unable, I am not willing to understand this man who hasn't been showing much love or kindness to his own children and now demands respect and understanding.

He refuses to accept the fact that the Grandchildren have their own opinions, whether it is good or bad, it is theirs, and they do not want Boris to meddle with their lives, their political views. They try to explain that their life is different, that technology has changed a lot, and changes continue with a high speed. We are old people and we have difficulty catching up, and we have to let them be.

But for Boris all is not good, the technology is good for nothing and useless...

At the end of the day we had a big fight and then had not been talking for a week. Boris was preoccupied with himself, and Thank G-d for that because he stayed away from others. He really know how to make a good impression on strangers. People like him and praise him, and he likes it very much. But he has no friends because he is always pushes his opinions on others, and that makes people stay away from him.