[Columns 559-560]

In the sewing workshop Shoshana Tsigel, Bluma the seamstress, Dvoyre Tsing		In the Hubel family's goldsmithing workshop Right: Asher Hubel, with wife and child Left: Binyomin Hubel and Yehuda Hofman

In the Kvasovitsers' boiler workshop

In the sewing workshop run by Sarale Miller (Masha's daughter) Standing: Sarale Miller (Mashe's daughter) Seated, from right: Feyge Tsvayg, Sime Mandelblit, Yung, Sheyndl Gerber, Sara Glodberg, Hodes Ayzen Below: Sarale's children		Hersh Sas in Avrom and Dovid Lerer's soap factory, in the Kams' cellar

[Columns 561-562]

In winter gear: Leah Lerer, Sheyndl Gertl, and Genendel Aylboym with hands in pockets, feet in boots, wearing heavy coats and berets		In snow-covered Hrubieszow		Winter fun: sleigh ride		Four girls tobogganing

Kehas Kvasovitser riding a motorbike		Where is Motl the coachman taking them? Sore Rab, Manye Diker, and Golde Oder		Henye Dikler and Khanale Goldman in the Krasnystaw forest summer camp		Rokhl Frost and Brokhe Hey smiling out from a stack of fresh hay

Wedding party at the Frost family's home Top row, from right: Berl Frost, Zlatke Royzen, Rokhl Frost from Dubienka, Henekh Spektor, Rivke Frost Second row: From Laszczew, Miriam Frost, Aron Vaks, Miriam Vaks; from Dubienka, Mindl Frost Bottom row: Khaye Frost, Avrom Boymel, Royze Frost, Vove Frost, Yakhe Kezman, Yosl Kezman, Brokhe Royzen, Yosl Royzen		A group of young people strolling near the market garden From right: Munye Tsederboym, Khane Lindenboym, Khaye Shroyt, Berl Vayn, Rokhl (Shoul Ayzen's niece)

[Columns 563-564]

Watching kayaks on the Huczwa River

The bridge to Svinitin

It was March, 1935. Spring had begun in the Land of Israel, whereas Europe was still wintry. I was overtaken by a chill – not only in the physical sense, about which I had forgotten during my time away, but also spiritually. I was affected by the great change in the conditions of Poland's Jews. In spite of the difficulties in the Land of Israel at the time – immigration was curtailed and there were conflicts with the Arabs – Jews enjoyed a great degree of freedom, a kind of semi-independence. That was not the case in Poland.^[1]

I knew that Polish had been spoken by Jews who were assimilated, or high-school graduates, whereas the language of the Jewish masses was Yiddish. Now, however, all Jews struggled to learn and use the national language.^[2] In most public places, and on the train from the Romanian border, no Jews spoke Yiddish. However, even if I had trouble recognizing a Jew by his appearance, I could identify him by the copy of Haynt visible in the inner pocket of his jacket, as if Jews were following the instruction “Be a Jew in your home and a local outside it.”^[3]

Another indication that affected my premonition about the fate of Polish Jews: before I had left for the Land of Israel, the Zionist movement was sustained mainly by the pioneering groups, whereas most Jews supported the movement with funds and made themselves heard when the Zionist community in that country was in danger, but were generally not involved personally. Jews saw their future in Poland, continuing the lives of their ancestors. Now, on the train, once the travelling Jews discovered where I was coming from, they began streaming to our compartment. Most of them were small merchants who were far distant from any form of Zionism; now their only question was, “How can I go there?”

The first days of my visit were very busy. People came to hear news of their brothers, sisters, or friends. If I brought a gift that bore the name of the Land of Israel, written in Hebrew – even if it was only a pack of cigarettes – their enthusiasm knew no bounds. I could understand their emotion: some were partly assimilated and remote from any Jewish, let alone Zionist, connection. They had simply come to hear about the Land of Israel, and tried to stammer out the few Hebrew words they remembered from their childhood, as though trying to prove they were fit to join the Zionist community. During all my meetings with childhood friends, former members of Po'alei Tziyon who had not been able to move for lack of immigration certificates (I witnessed the great desire and pressure to move to the Land of Israel during one meeting, when a labor group discussed the fate of a single immigration certificate that had not yet even materialized) or those who had settled for continuing their lives in Poland as small businessmen, I did not hear a single note of optimism about the future in Poland, saturated as it was with hatred of Jews.

I heard about the non-Jewish pickets of Jewish stores in order to block potential customers, with the indirect help of the police. I believed that the Jews were desperate. A sense of foreboding pervaded them all, yet no one foretold the destruction that was to take place.

I watched the daily lives of the Jews in town. They enjoyed all the resources of this country, rich as it is in cheap supplies of vegetables, fruit, milk, and meat. Their standard of living was high in spite of low income. I compared it with life in the kibbutz, where people eat little and work hard, yet are full of hope for the future.

This time, I saw the town and its surroundings in a new light. One wonderful experience was a Saturday morning trip with friends such as Ya'akov Krelenboym, Mikha'el Gertl, Me'ir Cohen, and others. We set out early in several small boats on the Huczwa River that rings the town, accompanied by grassy fields, trees, orchards, vegetable gardens, uncultivated fields, and reeds. We were surprised as though we were seeing this for the first time. It nourished our hearts and souls in the midst of the poisonous anti-Jewish atmosphere.

Personally, I felt the hostility of the rulers on two occasions. At that time, visitors to Poland were granted a three-month permit. In the course of my trips to Warsaw, the center of Labor Zionist activity, my permit expired, and I needed a two-month extension. Before the extension was granted, a Polish policeman came to the house. In the course of the conversation, he said, “Of course, when they feed you here, you can extend your stay.” I remember that my few years in the Land of Israel gave me the desire to punish him. The second occasion was as follows: every evening, we would walk along the busy “stock exchange” and continue to Panska Street, everyone's favorite destination for strolls, cinemas, and the like, conversing constantly. At the close of the evening, we gallants walked the girls to their homes. On one of these occasions, shortly before I was due to leave town, we were pelted with stones by Polish rabble. This was a clear sign that it was time for me to leave this “sacred” place.

As I left, I was accompanied by a large group that walked beside me all the way. I had no doubt that they were not accompanying me personally, but that they were motivated by a sense of identification with me and an overwhelming desire to be in my situation. I can still hear the words of our friend, Yosef Shvarts, a merchant and a zealous Zionist: “You have no idea how much the passport in your pocket is worth.”

My heart still aches at the memory of this last parting from my dear family, and from most of my relatives and friends.

Translator's Footnotes:

1. During the 1930s, the British government placed severe limitations on Jewish immigration to Palestine. This coincided with a nationalist uprising by Palestinian Arabs. In Poland, a series of laws was enacted in the 1920s and 1930s, aimed at removing the Jews from all spheres of social, economic, and cultural life. Return
2. The national language refers to Hebrew. Return
3. A slogan of the 18^th19^th century Jewish Enlightenment movement was “Be a Jew in your home, and a man outside it.” Return

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