Bobrka,Ukraine
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Page 25
Translated by Michael Kallay Sometimes I close my eyes and let my mind wander in the world of my childhood, our small and humble town that I left more than forty-three years ago, when I was not yet 19 years old. In my mind I walk from one end of the city, through the center, near the pine forest at the crossroads to the villages Lanki and Strzalki, opposite the town's last Jewish home, the home of the policeman Saul Cutter.
I walk along the shabby road by the courthouse, which is also the jail, I walk from the "Zagura" down along the cemetery wall, to the bridge over the creek "der Fotteck", which turns into a small lake here (the Rieke), and in rainy years it floods the bridge. As children we like to swim here, and in the water reservoir to the right of the bridge.
And still I am at the heart of town, opposite the gate of the cemetery, through which I always walked with great fear. Even though for 40 days I accompanied grandma Chaya-Rachel when she went pleading on the grave of her late husband Moshe-Leib, asking him to lobby in Heaven for the reversal of the wicked Mayor Gabrishevsky's condemnation of our house as a dangerous wreck; (because my cousin Shmuel Schleider carried the flag in a Zionist parade); Even after that I would not dare walk past it alone at night.
As I leave the bridge, walking towards the town's periphery, There on my right is the dirt road leading to the quarter that was once the Jewish quarter "Jidivska Vilitse". On my left, along the wall of the Jewish cemetery there is a pathway to the slaughterhouse, through the cattle market (Taragovitsa) and further away to the forest behind Tchaykovsky's farm, the farm that people used to call the white courtyard ("Das Weisse Hoif"). And when I continue along the main road, I reach the town's main area, among the crowded houses, the house of the Rabbi Yosef Kliger, those of Feivish Kris and Avraham Breitfeld, near the bar of Yankel Freitag, the house of Wof Mechlis, and then the oil press of Yakov Wolf Weizer.
There, opposite Simcha Lotringer's hostel, there is another alley leading to the Jewish street. Here, at the corner, was the house of Yehoshua (Shua) Dreier. Here the road led on a slight rise to the center of town (ryneck). On the right stood the house of Itsikle Landau. Near that house there was a small alley leading to the Great Synagogue and the beit midrash [house of learning]. Opposite that alley there was another branch of the road, leading, through the market, to the Bejechovsky house, to the Ruthnic Church [Ukrainian Orthodox] on one side, and to the main road (Batorego) of the bath house on the other.
That main road went past the tobacco shop of Itamar Ehre, to Yona Schreier's house on one side, and to Sheia (Yeshaia) Schur on the other. And so we have reached Downtown, with the Jewish shops and booths, and the water pump at the center.
On regular non-market days, apart from the permanent shops, there were some temporary stands at market, selling produce, cookies and candies, and all kinds of goods and merchandise. But on market days one could hardly find one's way between the numerous stands, carts, animals and people.
The straight street at the main road led to the post office, beside the Catholic Church. There it branched to the right on a steep slope, to the main highway leading to the city of Lvov. But continuing straight on that road would take you to a town called Kozina, and going left would take you to the quarter called "Zamlinia" ("behind the mill").
At the corner near the Ruthnic Church was one of the centers of the "Heder's" (Jewish schools). There, not far from the Belze Cloiz [house of worship], were the schools of Yossle Melamed ("Yossle Borscht"), Yehudah Melamed, and Berle Melamed [melamed = teacher], the latter being right next to the church. From there a road parallel to the above went past the soda pop factory, Nahman Kol's house, by the bath house, the Chortkov Kloiz, and here you were back by the school down the hill on that side, and on to the "Zamlinia", that is, behind the mill.
Thus, our town was not that small, and it was a lie that was told about it in jest that it was the size of a yawn, namely: if you entered town yawning, you are out of it before your yawn is over. And it was definitely an exaggeration when they said that our town was so small that at night it would be taken on a wheelbarrow into the Town Hall, so that it doesn't catch a cold. For us it was a great metropolis, like Nineveh of ancient times, a district capital that presided over 99 villages and townships, among them some cities like Schliska (Strelisk), Wibranuvka (Beranivka), Chodorov, Bjozdovza (Brizdovitz). The city of Bobrka was the seat of the Starostva (District Commissioner) and the court. Every Thursday was a market day, attracting farmers from villages all the district's villages; and apart from that, there were several special fair days during the year, attracting merchants from the surrounding area. In that sense, only Lvov (the capital of Galicia) seemed to be a greater center than our town.
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Updated 30 July 2005 by MGH