[Page 137]

I wish to thank the editorial board for publishing my accounts of the Rothenburg family. Let me add a few descriptions about some farmers and the Rothenburgs. All these excerpts are parts of a larger work that Chana Lenuta and Ida Merżan are preparing. We three are the last generation to carry memories of Skryhiczyn, and our grandparents, parents, and cousins, who were farmers in this village. I believe that the subject of Jewish farmers in Poland is absent from our literature. Polish readers are unaware of it, but I find it even odder that Jewish readers are unaware as well. The Rothenburg farms were small, except for some mid-size farms that belonged to the descendants – children and grandchildren – of Uncle Shmuel. As a child, I imagined Uncle Shmuel in the form of God: a large person with a thick, broad beard, who was watching us from above and requiring his descendants to report all they were doing. We were particularly affected by one story about a Hurvitz granddaughter who ran away from Grandfather's house in order to join a workers' protest in Dubienka. When I grew older, my uncles described him to me as not huge, or having a big white beard. All my uncle's children, men and women, were tall, with well-shaped legs. The men had bronze beards, long faces, and large eyes.

The Rothenburgs were deeply involved in managing their farms. Many of them built houses in an area they called “The New Farm” in order to be closer to their fields; this area was set aside for use by the owners. The large settlement that resulted, about two km from Skryhiczyn, was called Krynitsa.^[1] The economic slowdown that began about three years after each heir received his land put an end to the construction. Some of them couldn't even finish building their homes, and some farm buildings remained incomplete until 1939.

The young people of Krynitsa developed their own group of friends for play and fun. We visited each other, especially on Shabbat, and sometimes gathered at the Bug River. Their daily life during the 1930s has been described by the sisters Sarah and Ida (now Merżan); Janusz Korczak wrote about them in his weekly children's magazine. The Halperin house, at the edge of the forest, was the house we visited most often. The four Halperin girls were close in age. We were especially impressed by Ida's educational expertise, gained by working with Korczak. The other three girls worked on the farm.

The Halperin's youngest daughter was a tomboy. She could ride every horse in the village, and went everywhere on horseback, accompanied by dogs – to school, Dubienka, or Skryhiczyn. She was always surrounded by young men, and was constantly in infectious good spirits. The atmosphere at the Halperin's was merry; the place was called “goat farm.” I liked to visit them, not only because of the girls, who were close to me in age, but primarily because of their mother, Aunt Masha. I called her “aunt”, although she was my mother's cousin. She was very pretty. One story about her is that when her fiancé arrived at Uncle Shmuel's farm to meet the prospective bride, she was in the barn, still milking cows.

Aunt Masha herself used to tell us that when she arrived in Kishinev to visit the family of her future husband, she roamed the rooms of the house and suddenly saw a pretty, fashionable young woman coming towards her, wearing a green velvet dress just like hers. She later realized that she was seeing herself in the mirror. Funny, isn't it?

When she returned from Russia, she was no longer wealthy, but didn't want help from anyone. She and her daughters began to set their lives in order. Their home, and part of the farm, was destroyed during the war. She lived with her husband and their children in one of the tumble-down farm buildings. The five of them were able to restore the farm. Aunt Masha resembled my mother, rejoicing in her every achievement.

Her daughters were trained from early childhood to be responsible for the tasks they were assigned. I remember the summer vacation of 1927, when I visited Aunt Masha and worked as a day laborer in the fields for two months.

[Page 138]

I harvested grain and bound up bundles of buckwheat. She treated me seriously and paid me just as she did the other laborers. Those were my first wages.

In October 1939, when people hadn't yet recovered from the shock of September, when waves of refugees came through Skryhiczyn, Ida and her husband left their home for a while. A violent mob then overran the house. When the family returned, both Uncle Shmuel and his son-in-law were viciously murdered in front of their wives. It was the first murder in Skryhiczyn, and the beginning of the Holocaust. I last visited Skryhiczyn in the winter of 1930-1931.

Translator's Footnote

1. The Polish ‘krynitsa’ means spring or well. Return

For some time now, I have realized that I prefer reading memoirs and eyewitness reports to fiction and sophisticated stories that are based on the imagination. I may be tired of literature, while the need for facts never grows old.

About two months ago, the “Popular Publishers' Cooperative” published a book by two women who are close relatives, Irena Kowalska and Ida Merżan, titled The Rothenburgs Overlooking the Bug River. The book is only 208 pages long and was published in a print run of 6,000. This modest book is unusual, in that we know little about this family except for the memories it presents. I consider this book one of the colorful depictions of the Second Polish Republic.^[1] It was a land of many ethnicities, where people lived more or less well, spoke several languages, and came from different cultures. There were differences of behavior, clothing, folklore, etc.

The “Arcadia” of Skryhiczyn is on the Bug River, not far from the town of Dubienka, that is so closely linked with Tadeusz Kościuszko.^[2] The authors spent their childhood there, and it is their ideal “happy place,” the place every person wishes they could return to. Their book recounts the life of atypical Jews during the Second Republic – they weren't merchants or shopkeepers. They settled the land in order to farm it. Yes, they were farmers. Jewish farmers were rare in western and central Poland. Luckily, the two authors survived to preserve details of life in Poland before World War II.

In the first part of the book, Irena Kowalska provides a detailed picture of her extended family, which fled from Bavaria following the persecution of Jews, and came to Poland. The tale ends with the tragic years of German occupation. The second part of the book, titled “My Parent's Farm,” consists of Ida Merżan's memories of her immediate family. They provide a depiction of life in the Second Republic, in a remote, unknown village on the Bug, where Polish, Ukrainians, and Jews lived side by side. Despite the differences between these ethnic groups, they lived in harmony, as people do when they live in close proximity to each other and know that they need to rely upon each other. They therefore viewed World War II as a complete destruction of their ordinary quiet world.

The authors do not view the past as perfect. They describe events as they saw and experienced them. Major conflicts bypassed Kowalska and Merżan's Arcadia. They took place far away and were mentioned in the newspaper only occasionally. It was not a world of luxury and abundance, but food was plentiful. Above all, the residents were steadfast and resourceful in their daily lives. It was typical of peasant life in Poland. The author gives the impression that all the different ethnicities in Poland shared similar feelings.

I would like to mention the stories by Ida Merżan, who had worked with Janusz Korczak. She wrote articles, as well as children's literature. Some of the latter describe

[Page 139]

her happy experiences on her parents' farm, and are worthy of publication as an educational tool. Sadly, the writer did not live to see the book published.

The book is small in size, but unusual in content, and in the spirit of I. B. Singer and Vindez.^[3]

(Translated from Polish by Gershon Shachar)

Translator's Footnotes

1. The Second Polish Republic existed between 1918 and 1939. Return
2. In 1792, the Polish national hero fought against Russian rule at Dubienka. Return
3. I was not able to identify the last name. Return

I was born in 1914, in Dubienka. My father Yehoshua (of blessed memory) was a forest assessor. I learned from my family that when World War I broke out and the fighting armies were nearing their homes, all the people of the town fled to the surrounding forests. After the war, the Polish government began to rehabilitate the crippled economy, and carried out agricultural reforms. It allocated land to the farmers, and my father received a farm in the village of Rdjaib, even though Polish law did not permit Jews to be farmers.^[1] The farm had belonged to German farmers who left it and fled with the German army as it retreated. My father and older brother restored the abandoned property and turned it into a model farm that supplied the entire family with a livelihood. But the village was distant from Jewish centers, and the life of a lone Jewish family in a Gentile village was difficult, to say the least. These difficulties were augmented by the fact that the Germans who had left slowly began to return. This caused conflicts between them and our family.

Nachum Blander, 1933

In the fields of the large farm, 1925		Working in a field of the large farm,1926-1927

[Page 140]

he left for Palestine, and settled in Magdiel, where he continued his farm work – first as a hired worker and foreman. Several years later, he started his own farm in nearby Moshav Ganei-Am, where he lived for the rest of his life.

After the Russians left Dubienka and before the Germans arrived, the local Poles rioted. Several young men burst into the Goldberg's' house, and killed them all, including Sarah and her baby.

G. S.

Mr. Gershon Shachar Kibbutz Givat Chayim (Ichud) Rishon LeZiyon, May 18, 1993 I am sending you the photo of Sara Halperin-Goldberg (of blessed memory). She was my best friend, as a child. Word came after the war that Ukrainian had rioters murdered her entire family before her eyes, and her three-year-old son was shot as she was holding him. The Ukrainian left her and her mother alive. The horrible deed caused her to go insane, and her fate is unknown. The photo is the only one in my possession – please return it to me soon. Yours in friendship, Masha Eshel

The Halperin family at their home on the large farm		Sara Halperin-Goldberg (1931)

[Page 141]

The village of Skryhiczin is located five km from Dubienka, on the road to Hrubieszow. It is surrounded by large forested areas many kilometers long, that were owned by Jews. The brothers Shmuel and Chayim Rottenberg purchased the Skryhiczyn forest. They had sons and daughters, and the family branched out into the Rottenberg, Shidlovsky, and Halperin families, and others.

The Jews of Skryhiczyn were renowned throughout Poland for their charity. Poor, suffering people would come to the village, unburden themselves to the local Jews, and receive generous help. This help was especially forthcoming to the residents of nearby Dubienka. A father who needed help to provide a dowry for his daughter would go to Skryhiczyn, tell the Jews there of his problem, and receive the money he needed, either as a donation or a “loan” to be repaid when things “improved.”

Over thirty years ago, the first training camp for HeChalutz members was established in the village. It served members from Dubienka. The Jews of Skryhiczyn helped the camp in many ways, especially Mordechai Shidlovsky. These village Jews are worthy of mention in the Dubienka Yizkor Book; below are some of them.

Known as Moteleh, Chayim's son, he was an unassuming scholar, a member of the Ger Hassidic group, with pleasant manners, who listened to everyone's problems and helped as much as he could.

He was a bright, serious scholar as well as a farmer. Every morning, before leaving for the field, he would sit at the window and study a page of Talmud with devotion; his melancholy chant could be heard throughout the village.

Born in Kishinev, he lived in Odessa for many years. His family was descended from the family of Anshel Halperin, which was well known throughout Russia at the time. During the Bolshevik revolution, he fled to Poland, settled in Skryhiczyn, and became a farmer. He set Hebrew as the everyday language in his home. He was very generous; whenever the young people of Dubienka needed donations for some national cause, he always gave lavishly and encouraged the young people who were doing the collecting. He was murdered by the Nazis along with his father-in-law Shlomo Goldberg (of blessed memory).

Simcha Dantsiger

An impressive-looking scholar, he was clever, had had a general education, and was a superb businessman. He would spend all day at his business. In the evenings, he hosted people interested in Jewish learning, where he would teach Bible or recite Bialik's poems.

She was a fine, educated, kind, generous woman who lived a modest life. After taking her geese out to pasture, she would sit down and read a Hebrew book. Her head in a white kerchief, she would come to Dubienka with her small daughters, do her shopping, and carry on lively conversations in Hebrew. The young Zionists of Dubienka enjoyed listening to her.

The Jews of Skryhiczyn were exemplary, intellectually curious, and warm-hearted. May their memories be blessed!

[Page 142]

Zionist political parties were active in Hrubieszow as early as 1925, but it was only when a branch of HeChalutz was opened that education towards personal Zionist fulfillment began. The first HeChalutz group consisted of members of the Po'aley Tziyon Socialist-Zionist party, and of the HaShomer HaTza'ir youth movement. Eventually, young unaffiliated Jews were accepted, such as those from partly proletarian circles and students at Polish schools.^[1] The latter were usually not involved in the life of local Jewish young people, and spoke Polish on the street. We were very surprised to receive membership requests from young Jews who were studying at the Polish Gymnasium in Hrubieszow.^[2]

In the winter of 1925-1926, the local HeChalutz branch decided to establish a farming training group for its members. We were unable to do this, and instead, Shidlovsky, the Jewish owner of a sawmill in Skryhiczyn, agreed to host such a group. His Zionist ideology was decisive, as his decision had no economic rationale, and the local Gentiles were better and more experienced workers.

About ten of us boys and girls (mostly boys) went to Skryhiczyn. Our parents opposed the move. The boys' parents were eventually reconciled to the notion, but the parents of the girls did everything they could to thwart it, fearing that the girls would become detached from observant Jewish culture.

The Jewish clerks and young Jews of the village greeted us enthusiastically. We visited the sawmill as soon as we arrived and watched the work process, in order to get an idea of what it involved. Besides, we did not want the Gentile workers to make fun of us. Many of us had never worked before and had only heard rumors about sawmills. At first, the sawmill managers assigned us to easy jobs; once we succeeded at these, we were switched to harder tasks, but not at the machines.

The wake-up siren sounded at 6 a.m. The Christian workers did not work on Sundays, and there was no siren. We worked on Sundays instead of Saturdays, which was our day of rest.

In our free time, we held discussions, mostly about the Land of Israel, and the Hebrew language.

At the Skryhiczyn training camp

[Page 143]

We also set aside times for culture and entertainment, and met with the young Jews of the village to acquaint them with Zionism.

Our financial situation was better than that of other training camps, as we were fully employed and had no budget deficits. However, we did not think of setting funds aside to help us emigrate. The training period was only two months. Some of us, who received immigration certificates, hurried back to Hrubieszow to prepare for their journey.^[3] The others did not stay at the sawmill, as the work for them ran out.

Our HeChalutz group did not receive many certificates; besides, several people who had returned from Palestine told us about the difficulties they had encountered. The HeChalutz movement in Hrubieszow dwindled, and for a number of years we were the only members. In 1929, however, we were able to widen our activity and renew the training. This time we went to well-established training camps in places such as Klosowa, Suchedniów, etc. The training periods were now longer, and we gained experience; our members went to Palestine well-prepared.

Translator's Footnotes

1. There is no further explanation of “partly proletarian circles.” Return
2. The Polish Gymnasium is a grammar school. Return
3. At that time, the British Mandate authorities issued immigration certificates that controlled the entry of Jewish immigrants into Palestine. Return

Born Yosef Shidlovsky in Skryhiczyn, he left the farm when young and moved to France. He proved to be clever and very gifted – not for Jewish scholarly studies, but in mechanics. Szydlowski opened engine factories in many countries and lived among non-Jews; he even married a Gentile woman. In his later years, when he visited Israel and his brother Aharon Shidlovsky, he was impressed by his brother's achievements. Aharon was a founder of Kibbutz Kinneret, which became a green, flourishing settlement that sprang up in the desert. He was impressed by the hospitality of the kibbutz members and decided to move to Israel. Like all his family members in Israel, Szydlowski wanted to contribute to the country. In 1968, he founded Bet Shemesh Engines as a jet engine parts manufacturer, dealing with manufacturing as well as overhauling engines, moved to Caesarea, and often flew abroad to visit his other businesses.

I knew he was a native of Skryhiczyn and wanted to interview this important millionaire about his life for this book. Actually, I was hoping that he would contribute money for publication of the book. Every time I called his secretary, Tzipi, she said that he was working on new inventions in his private office and couldn't be disturbed. Well, what do you think of this 90-year-old who was still working on inventions?

He died on July 16, 1988, and was buried in the cemetery of Kibbutz Kinneret, as he wished. Blessed be his memory!

Dear Gershon, I received your letter, and, as you requested, am sending you some information about my uncle, Yosef Shidlovsky. He left the village in 1915 for Odessa, where he lived with one of our rich aunts and spent a year or two studying in a technical school. He then went to Łódź, where his grandparents were living, and began working for the German army as a civilian, at jobs his education suited him for. When the Germans retreated in 1918, they took him with them. They soon realized that he was an expert technician, and he remained in that country until Hitler's rise to power. Father kept a letter from Yosef, then aged 10-13, who asked one of the rich aunts (either Aunt Rachel, Pinyek's mother, or Aunt Masha Halperin, my wife's mother) for 3,000 rubles to finance his engineering studies. Yosef's letter ends as follows: “Tell them that whether they loan me the money or not, I want to be an engineer, and I will become one.” The aunts remembered Grandfather's objections to secular studies, refused his request, and did not send him the money. Best wishes, Moshe Shidlovsky

[Page 144]

…His first invention was the hydraulic dump truck. However, he made his fortune in aeronautics. Jozef Pilsudski, the president of a new Poland, decided that his country needed to manufacture its own aircraft. During the first trial flight, the airplane crashed. Szydlowski saw the incinerated airplane, and thought, “If the plane had been using special aircraft fuel rather than gasoline, it wouldn't have crashed.” Living in Germany at the time, he immediately started to develop this idea. The French heard about the Jewish inventor and sent their own aviation expert, Martinu Leger, to invite him to work in France.^[1] Szydlowski agreed, moved to France, and founded the Turbomeca aircraft engine company.

Things went well until World War II broke out. One day, Szydlowski received forms from the Vichy government, that he was supposed to fill out. These forms were specifically for Jews. Szydlowski threw them out. New forms arrived two weeks later, and they, too, were thrown out. Szydlowski fled to Switzerland in 1942. Once the war was over, he returned to France and restored his ruined factory. He lived for the factory, and even built his house on factory grounds. He employed 5,000 workers; over time, thousands of subcontractors in 124 countries worked for him.

In 1964, the Israeli Prime Minister, Levi Eshkol, visited France and met Szydlowski. He was impressed by the successful Jewish industrialist and suggested that he construct a factory in Israel. Szydlowski told him, “That would be a luxury, and your country is poor.” Three years later, de Gaulle announced an arms embargo on Israel. Szydlowski remembered Eshkol's proposal, flew to Israel and went to Eshkol's office. There, he told him, “I have come to build a factory in Israel.” The cornerstone of Bet Shemesh Engines was laid two months later. Thanks to de Gaulle, Szydlowski rediscovered his Jewish identity. But it was only when he met Simcha Cohen, a 19-year-old young woman from Or Akiva, that he found the family warmth that he had lost years earlier, or perhaps had never had. This gave rise to much malicious gossip in Caesarea.^[2]

Szydlowski maintains close contact with his factories in France; regardless of where he happens to be, phone calls and telex messages are constantly exchanged. His motto for business management is, “A contented worker will produce more.” The grounds of his factory in Bordeaux include a forest stand and a charming park. He intended to do the same in Bet Shemesh but wasn't able to. He demands much of his workers, just as he demands of himself (which is a great deal), and the workers receive much in exchange. He established a village for 5,000 workers around his Turbomeca factory, with a house for himself at the center. His house is fitted with a control system of lights and sirens linked to his engines' test sites. Thus, he can be aware of events even when sleeping. Whenever a test is being run, he turns in early in order to sleep before the warning signs go off; he then hurries to the test sites. Szydlowski's life is comfortable, but not extravagant. His creations and work are at the center of his life. He is truly a giant, perhaps too large for this country.

After he invented the hydraulic dump truck, he took out 860 more patents, mostly in aeronautics, in spite of his lack of formal education in that field. Szydlowski began to work in aeronautics after a plane that President Pilsudski of Poland had had built burned up in mid-air. Szydlowski thought that it would be good to have planes that used less flammable fuel, and shifted his emphasis to aerial flight. He moved to Germany, but received an offer from France that he relocate and develop his inventions there. He did so, and established the Turbomeca engine plant.

During the war, the Vichy government send him forms to fill out that were targeted at Jews; he threw them out.^[3] Similar forms that arrived two weeks later met the same end. He was called before Admiral LeGentil, an

[Page 145]

important cabinet minister, and asked why he wasn't returning the forms^[4]. His response was “I am a French Jew and will not respond to a racist letter.” Szydlowski never applied for French citizenship, though it was offered to him before the war as a token of appreciation for his work. The Germans demanded that the stubborn Jew be removed as head of his own manufacturing enterprises. He was removed, but Bergeret, the Vichy Air Minister, went to the workers in military uniform and told them that it was only a theatrical gesture intended to placate the Germans. A year later, Szydlowski was forced to flee to Switzerland, an act that saved his life. He returned to France after the war, found his factories destroyed, and rehabilitated them.

He never thought of emigrating to the Land of Israel, and wasn't connected to it, although his brother, Aharon Shidlovsky, was one of the founders of Kibbutz Kinneret, where he lived all his life. The two brothers were opposites: Joseph was a capitalist industrialist, and Aharon was a socialist farmer. Now, Joseph honors his brother by keeping a bowl of dates on his table in Caesarea, telling his guests, “Eat these dates – my brother grows them in Kinneret.” In later years he visited Israel often, landing in Kinneret with his helicopter.

A visit to Szydlowski's plants in France by Israeli Premier Levi Eshkol, 23 years ago, changed his trajectory. Eshkol was accompanied by Shimon Peres, then Director-General of the Israel's Ministry of Security, Admiral Mordechai Limon, and Al Schwimmer, Director-General of Air Industries. Eshkol asked Joseph to build a factory in Israel; Szydlowski's response was that it was a luxury and too expensive for such a poor country. Three years later, after de Gaulle announced an arms embargo against Israel, Shidlovsky's inner Jew woke up. He flew to Israel on one of his planes, and sat down in Eshkol's office. “I have come to build a plant in Israel,” he announced. A memorandum of understanding was signed on the spot. Two months later, the cornerstone of Bet Shemesh Engines was laid.

The Shidlovsky family

[Page 146]

Over the forty years between Liberation and the fall of 1983, I could not decide whether to rebury the bodies elsewhere.^[1] I thought it would be easiest to bury them in the soil of the village they loved so much. But there were several reasons that forced me to reach a different decision.

 First and foremost, when Mother had asked me not to leave my brother's body in a field somewhere, I had promised her that I would not do so. In October 1983 I transferred the remains of my brother, Yehuda Prywes, together with other remains, to the main Jewish cemetery of Warsaw, on Okopowa Street. Seven Israeli relatives of the Rottenbergs came to the funeral. Some of them had been born in Israel, but wanted to see their ancestors' birthplace, about which they had heard stories – that beautiful place in the midst of fields, forests, and many waterways.

Even for those who remembered the village well, and had childhood friends and acquaintances, the visit was not easy. One of the visitors was Pinyek (Pinchas), the youngest son of Motl Rottenberg, who had lived in the village until he left for Israel. Everyone knew him; he had had many friends, some of them Gentiles. One of the older residents of the village came up to him with a package wrapped in a red kerchief. The package contained photos. The Gentile had received the package from Motkeh Rottenberg just before the Jews of Skryhiczyn were sent from Dubienka to the Dorohusk station, for deportation to Sobibor. The Gentile was told to hand the package to the first member of the Rottenberg family he encountered after the war. Some of the pictures depicted young people of Dubienka. Pinchas wanted to reciprocate the precious gift and give him money. But the old man adamantly refused to accept his money, saying, “I am eighty years old, and will soon stand to judgment before God. I'm happy that I was able to fulfil a promise that I made to a dear person who was going to his death.”

Translator's Footnote

1. This apparently refers to Nazi victims who were buried haphazardly or in mass graves. Return

Next to the road leading to Hrubieszow, halfway between Dubienka and the village of Matcze, lay the n-shaped village of Skryhiczyn. It was surrounded on three sides by the vast Skryhiczyn forest, which bordered on Count Zamoyski's forest. The fourth side of the village abutted on the great Bug River, whose sources lie in distant Podolia.

The village was almost identical to other villages. Its roofs were mostly thatched or shingled; some, such as the school, were covered in white sheet metal. Each house had a small fruit orchard in the back, stalls for the domestic animals, and a grain barn. The Jewish residents and the Christians (Ukrainian and Polish peasants) lived with each other comfortably as longtime neighbors do, with very little animosity or ill feelings. The young Jews often joined in Christian parties, and vice versa.

The Jews were merchants, field workers, and artisans. The men worked from early morning until late at night, making enough money for the family's livelihood. Jews worked as

shopkeepers, shoemakers, or at the sawmill which was about two kilometers from the village.

The peasants, who drew their sustenance from the fields, spent all their time working their plots. The farming year began in early spring and continued until late fall, when frost and snow began to cover the soil. They threshed their grain in winter and devoted more time to the household; it was a relatively restful season. The peasant would take his grain, butter, eggs, and other produce, to sell in the market, and use the proceeds to buy fabric for clothing,

[Page 147]

ready-made clothes, boots, and other necessities. That was the life of a typical peasant, who lived alongside the Jew.

The top of the ‘n’, which was part of the road to Hrubieszow, was mostly populated by Jews. Its center, the heart of the village, was the Jewish courtyard where many generations of the Rottenberg dynasty had lived. This courtyard, a rare case of Jewish land ownership in Poland, was famous far and wide. It was the heart of the Skryhiczyn Jewish community, its religiously observant members as well as the more secular. The Jewish courtyard symbolized respect and politeness for the Christian population, without the constant fear everyone felt in the courtyard of a Polish landowner, who required constant subservience. All those who lived in the Jewish courtyard felt related to the outsiders. The mutual respect between the two groups was deeply ingrained, and the Jews demanded no special respect from the other villagers. Even the peasants admitted that, although they stole lumber from the main forest, the owners never discussed imprisoning anyone; they would make peace with the thieves, who promised they would not steal again.

The old, brick-built, elongated courtyard had a sheet-metal roof. The rooms were large, with sizable windows. The wide spaces ensured low temperatures in summer as well as pleasant warmth in winter, thanks to the stoked ovens. This was where several generations had lived, such as Shmuel, his brother Chayim, and his son Motl, all of whom died before World War II. There was a younger generation as well, with many ramifications: uncles, aunts, cousins, in-laws, and related families.

The courtyard lay alongside the road, and was enclosed by a high, handsome wooden fence. One corner of the fence adjoined the small bridge over a streambed, which was dry all summer and rarely flowed with water. The opposite corner abutted on the old synagogue, which had sunk into the ground a bit over the years. The courtyard, like the synagogue, were old-timers who had seen much and had much to tell. The old fence had an opening for a gate, but the gate itself had either broken down or never been constructed, enabling free movement twenty-four hours a day, and blurring the distinction between the courtyard and its surroundings.

A medium-sized fruit orchard grew around the courtyard. In summer, when the trees were heavy with fruit and foliage, a pleasant coolness wafted through the air, with the fragrance of fruit and fields, and the aroma of nearby pastures. The courtyard also had a well that wasn't deep but was fed by a dependable source of cool water. In summer, when many wells in the village ran dry, people from the village would draw their water from the courtyard well.

A huge pear tree, with long, thick branches, grew by one of the courtyard's windows. The tree seemed to be asserting its dominance over the courtyard, competing with the human residents for breadth of reach. The humans

[Page 148]

won. The Rottenberg stock spread and eventually joined the Kaminer family to take over the large Ger Hassidic group, including its vast army of adherents the world over.

Another branch reached out to Warsaw, thanks to the large Prywes family. They were wealthy metal merchants, established along the entire street bordering on Grzybowski Square. They also spread to Czestochowa through the Peretz family (descendants of the great Yiddish writer Y. L. Peretz) and to Łódź through the Boms family. Many other cities and towns in Poland were connected with the Rottenberg family and the Jewish courtyard in Skryhiczyn.

Like the older generation, those who lived in the courtyard and the others who lived in the village took care of each other, the younger generation led a life of daily coexistence; there were no social or cultural differences between the young people of the courtyard and the young Jews of the village. Though some members of the older generation still had special respect for the courtyard, the younger folks saw no difference between the courtyard and its neighbors.

Some of the younger generation were inclined toward socialist ideas and sought to fight against the differences between social groups. Another ideology that strongly influenced the courtyard almost until the start of World War II was Zionism, with its impulse to leave for the Land of Israel. Many Rottenbergs moved there, where they are living to this day.

The daily lives of Skryhiczyn's Jews were regulated by their livelihoods. Shopkeepers rose early to open their shops and earn some money from the peasants, who left for their fields in summer at the crack of dawn. They needed tobacco, matches, or tar for their wagons. Their wives bought some oil, salt, a herring, and other necessities. Each Jewish house had a garden nearby, which the residents tended early, before the heat set in, or a cow that had to be milked and sent out to pasture.

There were also Jewish merchants who rose early to travel to the villages, to buy a cow, calf, fowl, or anything that could be sold at a profit, and meet with other traders. They therefore needed to conclude the morning prayers early. Often, a trader would pray at the house of a Jews in a neighboring village. Thus, the study house would be virtually empty on weekdays. The melamed taught young boys daily, except during the summer.

On Friday afternoons and on the eve of holidays, the study house would be illuminated once again. The candle flames were visible through the windowpanes, and adults and children, freshly washed and wearing their Shabbat best, or older people in their long coats and prayerbooks under their arms, hurried to the study house to do their duty by God, after a long week of hard work making a living. The windows of Jewish houses revealed flickering Shabbat candles, as women dressed in their best clothes and spotless head coverings covered their eyes and murmured the blessing over the candles. Small children, their hair washed and their clothes clean-- boys in caps and girls in neat dresses and plaited hair held back by white or colored headbands-- stood at the

[Page 149]

table watching their mothers' covered eyes, and waiting until the hands came down, Mama smiled, and the ‘Gut Shabbes’ greeting sounded. At that moment, the day of rest after a week of hard toil began. The homes of non-observant Jews also marked Shabbat and holidays with special cleanliness, and special baked goods and dishes. After the men returned from prayers, every family would sit down at the table, relaxed and singing the special Friday evening songs, accompanied by the clamor of overtired children.

On Saturday and holiday mornings, men would go to prayers, and the small study house filled up. The women's section, up a few stairs and separated by a wall, was populated by devout women wearing their Shabbat best and jewelry, their heads covered by shawls or kerchiefs, who prayed like the men. Shortly before the men's prayers ended, the women hurried home to make sure the meal would be ready for the men and boys on their return from prayers. Men dawdled on their way home, to allow the women more time. They entered the house with a loud ‘Gut Shabbes’ (or ‘Gut Yontef’ on holidays), washed up and sat down to the Shabbat midday meal, starting with white-flour challah, gefilte-fish or chopped liver with onions. Soon, the hot cholent appeared on the table, complete with stuffed derma. People were busy, eating at home with their families.

Once the meal was over, the older Jews took a turn around the house, and then lay down for a nap with the shutters closed, to block out the street noises. The children knew not to make noise. After the nap, refreshed by a splash of water on their faces, the men sat down to read Sayings of the Fathers, or to chant a few psalms; the more studious among them read some Talmud or Mishna. When it was time, everyone returned to the synagogue for afternoon and evening prayers, as a preamble to resuming their unceasing weekday life. That was the way Jews of the older generation lived.

The younger generation formed several groupings according to age, marital and parental status; there were unmarried, youth, and schoolchildren. The first two groups participated in social and cultural activities, such as setting up a Yiddish library and joining the drama club. They worked devotedly to raise money for both institutions. The main movers of the library project were Yosl Rottenberg (or, as he was known, Yosl, Henya's son) and his wife Adelia. The library was actually founded in their house, where they dedicated a special room to it; they also raised money to expand the library. All the income from drama-club performances went to enhance the book collection, as did money from subscriptions and donations at weddings. The library contained several hundreds of books by Yiddish writers, as well as translations from other languages. There were many subscribers. The atmosphere was full of youthful energy, enjoying whatever was available. In general, the desire for sociocultural life was higher than the actual possibilities.

[Page 150]

Schoolchildren also led a very active life. They created their own library, mounted various entertainments, and took walks. The children gradually became part of the wider environment; the different social groups would sometimes meet.

Daily life during the week did not grant young people too much free time. They helped their parents with household chores, and by evening all they wanted to do was rest. However, on some special occasions, such as weddings of friends, all traces of fatigue vanished. On weekends, their youthful energy returned in full force. They enjoyed themselves from Friday evening until late Saturday night (this was also the case on holidays). On winter nights they would gather at someone's house for reading and discussing literature, group singing, and endless conversation.

Sometimes they would walk to Dubienka or other places where there were young people; the outsiders would also come and visit us. Winter would halt outdoor walks, because of the harsh frosts and deep snows. However, from early summer until late into autumn, nature was the place to breathe freely and enjoy the fragrance of meadows and grain fields.

In the evenings, people spent time outdoors in groups or couples, laughing and joking. Workday worries disappeared. On hot days, everyone rushed to the Bug River, with its clear, flowing water. Human bodies crowded the small sandy banks, enjoying the warm sun after bathing. The tumult was especially noisy when children were learning to swim and were mastering their fear of the water. Stronger swimmers would pull the beginners back from mid-river. Those who had gone beyond their depth screamed for fear of drowning. That was how children learned to swim.

When vacation time came, those branches of the Rottenberg family that lived in distant Polish towns gathered in Skryhiczyn. They would go on walks in the Starosielce forest, where families came to relax. People would return home late at night, and resume their weekday responsibilities the next morning. Days, weeks, months, and years passed in this manner, with a strong attraction to nature and appetite for life.

Life continued in this quiet, happy manner until the dark day in human history, in the late summer of 1939, when the clear horizon became obscured by the dark clouds of the swastika, and a blood-soaked era began for the Jewish people. Normal busy life was interrupted, and all traces of a Jewish community and its life were erased. Only a few Jewish homes survived, as did the wall of the Skryhiczyn courtyard, and the small mass grave in the orchard that contained the remains of four martyrs, cut off before their time.

After the death of Motl Rottenberg (peace be upon him), his wife Henye (full name – Henye-Rokhl) took on the entire burden of the courtyard. Motl had rarely taken part in farm management, which fell mostly to Henye. She held all the keys; Motl spent most of the time in his room, studying Mishna and Talmud.

[Page 151]

He would leave his room at twilight to relax, if the weather was good, standing at the gate and greeting passers-by.

When he died, his library, with its massive bookcases, became deserted. Hardly anyone entered the room to pick up a book. Many of his daughters went to the Land of Israel. Of all his many descendants, only two daughters (Gitl and Masha) and one son (Leybl) remained. Leybl married a woman from Ludmir. Masha, the youngest, married her cousin Motik Rottenberg, whom the family designated to handle the lawsuits as well as sell properties. He became the person in charge of the courtyard, but Henye had the final word, out of respect. As long as the courtyard continued to exist, it supported, or secretly lent money to, people who needed help. Those who needed to build a house received lumber for construction, others were given a sack of grain, and yet others in need received some money. Sometimes, help was given openly. A family that couldn't afford supplies for Shabbat received all they needed on Fridays.

One of those in need was known as Yankl ‘Wait.’ This nickname was due to his habit of responding to every request with the Polish ‘Poczekoj’ – “wait.” Yankl “Wait” was in his mid-thirties, very thin and sickly, unaccustomed to physical labor; people tried to find him an occupation that wasn't too physically demanding. His dark-haired wife, who was none too healthy herself, was busy at home caring for several children. They lived in one-half of the building that contained the bath-house. Henye Rottenberg took care of all their household expenses.

When the war broke out, Henye went to Ludmir, to live with her son Leybl. She used to say that no one knew whom to envy; it was very possible that those who remained in “the sunken area” would eventually envy those who fled to the far reaches of Russia. The destiny of the courtyard was sealed; its lifeblood was cut off. Henye Rottenberg shared the fate of all the other Jews, and became another link in the tragic, bloody chain of the six million tormented martyrs.

Figures of yesteryear rise before me, young and old; some who were part of everyday life, others who were members of the Jewish family of Skryhiczyn. All were people who once existed and are no more, yet whose memories are stored in memory forever – all the unforgettable ones who died unnatural deaths. They are people of varying ages, who lived in their own religious environment and were repulsed by new ways of life, but did not have the religious superstitions to spur them to hate, and were beloved and always respectful of others.

One of these was Shlomo Kam, who was always called “Boczan,” because people said that he had come from that town or village.

[Page 152]

He was above average height and strongly built, with a broad, long salt-and-pepper beard, not talkative, and stern towards his family. His children were brought up in a strict religious atmosphere that prevailed even when they were fully-grown. However, in the last years, he had to be a bit more flexible towards his unmarried children, David and Risha, when they were outside. The same strictness was applied, though, when they came back in.

After his first wife died, he remarried. His new wife, Sarah, was a good deal younger than him, heavy-set, with a beautiful face. Sarah dressed neatly and was a good housewife, who treated her young stepchildren well. She was coquettish, and the relationship between husband and wife was good. Shlomo sometimes had to yield to his wife's whims, and Sarah was careful not to annoy him. They made their living from a shop. At first, they lived in a basement apartment in the courtyard; later, they built a fine house near the stream.

He was somewhat distant, though decent, and never overstepped his boundaries. After his children were married, the parents led a quiet life. The war destroyed their calm lives. The brown scourge signed Shlomo's death warrant.^[1] One fine day, the Hitlerites dragged him out of his house. Together with Nyanyek Prywes and two other men, he was marched a hundred meters away, to the orchard at the stream, and impulsively shot for no reason. Their common grave is still there. The beast thirsted for blood. Sarah and the rest of the family probably met the same fate as the rest of the Skryhiczyn Jews, who all died sooner or later. Their graves are unknown, but their sacred memory will never be forgotten.

The sawmill was about two kilometers from Skryhiczyn, near Dubienka. It was the home of approximately ten Jewish families and a few Polish families. The sawmill had belonged to Shiyeh Bursztyn for many years, from the time the Skryhiczyn forest had been very dense. Later, after the forest had been cut down, the Varmer brothers purchased the mill. Jewish guys from Dubienka and Skryhiczyn worked alongside Poles. Daily life at the sawmill followed a routine. People did their particular jobs during the week, and met on Shabbat to talk, laugh, and tell jokes, like one big family. The inner lives of the residents were similar, as well. The happy voices of young people were commonly heard. The sawmill lay halfway between Skryhiczyn and the colony, where every older member of the Rottenberg family had lived with his family on his allotment and employed laborers for the fields. The only way from Skryhiczyn to the colony lay through the sawmill. For many years, space in the large wooden building had been set up as a synagogue, where the Jews of the sawmill and the colony prayed on Shabbat and holidays. Two rooms served the men, and one room, the women. Thus, Skryhiczyn was one settlement, and the sawmill was another. However, life in both places was identical.

[Page 153]

The family of Leybl Besser also lived at the sawmill; he was known as “Leybl of the sawmill.” He was middle-aged, medium-sized, with a round face and pink cheeks; his beard was round and neatly cut. Leybl had a restless personality that disregarded the limitations of age and of family. He began by working at the sawmill, and later purchased a horse to seek a livelihood wherever possible. His wife Libeh was small-framed and was always busy with bringing up the children and caring for the household's domestic animals. She had to care for seven or eight daughters, and her wish for equality with her husband was never realized due to her responsibilities. Her struggle for a purpose in life began when she was very young and had just given birth to their first daughter. With each additional birth, the distance between her and her husband increased. He searched for company, whereas she became less and less interested.

The expectations of husband and wife also diverged. The father's responsibility as head of the family was paramount; he was extremely devoted to the family and dedicated his life to the upkeep of a family of ten – no easy feat at the time. Each child was well-fed and dressed as neatly as possible. This achievement was in large part due to his delicate wife, who was committed to the well-being of the children; they were her entire world.

The children were all charming and very good-looking. However, the yearning for a son was so great that Leybl developed the absurd conviction that his wife Libeh was solely at fault for the birth of girls. Libeh's sorrow after the birth of each daughter was more painful than her birth pangs. Both parents sank into such deep depression that they could barely function after each new birth, and their neighbors had to help. However, the children were always loved. They were well-developed and resembled their mother in build. The oldest, Sara, was about eighteen when she moved to Warsaw to work there.

1939 scattered them all. The claws of the brown beast tore into Leybl Besser's family and ripped it into shreds, obliterating all traces of the large family. The children had barely begun to blossom; who knows what patch of earth absorbed their blood? Every last bit of this broad, strong family was uprooted, as though Leybl Besser and his family had never existed. The family members live on vividly in the memories of those who knew them. The horrible crime against the Jewish people must be commemorated, an eternal candle for future generations.

May God remember the souls of Papa, Mama, and my sister, who were slaughtered and burned, martyred by the Nazis (may their name be blotted out). With these words, I erect a monument for my own flesh and blood, my beloved, unforgettable father, mother, and sister, who rest in an unknown mass grave, after being tortured, along with the other Jews of Dubienka and the environs. Who knows their pain? Who heard their dying scream? Who knows where their bones and blood rest? Where did the earth

[Page 154]

enfold them? Their images constantly float through my memory, never to be forgotten. I remember my childhood home, where I was my parent's only child (peace be upon them), and each of their sleepless nights as they watched over me when I was sick. Each tear Mama shed is still damp, and I can still hear every sigh that Papa heaved. They always lived in fear for my well-being; every unhappy gesture on my part frightened them. I grew up surrounded by parental love. My sister Shifra was born when I was 14 years old, after which they had to divide their attentions. We were brought up with the same profound devotion.

Father was average size, broad-boned, but thin. His face was narrow, with thick-lashed eyes and a trimmed beard that was turning white. His beard covered both sides of his face. On weekdays, he wore a jacket, but a long cotton (rather than silken) khalat on Shabbat and holidays.^[2] His hat was not properly Hassidic but rounded, like that worn by many Jews at the time.^[3] He was observant, but not fanatically so; he washed his hands before a meal and said the blessings afterwards. He was not a scholar, but he chanted Psalms and knew the weekly Torah portion. As a child, I was attracted to old-fashioned Jewish clothing style, but dressed in less observant styles. I don't remember ever being beaten or yelled at by Father. In general, I don't recall him ever being angry. Whenever he heard someone cursing, he would react fearfully and say, “Cursing is prohibited – it's a great sin.” His name was Yitzchak, and his nickname (nicknames were common at the time) was “Yitzchak of the sawmill.” We were familiar with the sawmill, beginning in 1924. When Shiyeh Bursztyn owned the forest, Papa worked there as a forestry expert and guard, and later worked at the sawmill. He always worked hard and very conscientiously, almost fanatically, taking better care of other people's property than of his own. People would smile and say, “Yitzchak, you're putting too much effort into your work. No one will erect a golden monument to you.” But he clung to his ethical principles. He was respected by all who knew him. He never envied anyone, minded his own business, and did not complain. Circumstances were often difficult, but he kept up appearances.

Mama's name was Pesyeh (peace be upon her). She was several years younger than Papa and slightly below average height. Her head was wrapped in a scarf on weekdays, and she wore a wig on Shabbat and holidays. She adhered to all the Jewish laws and customs at home, as she cared for the children and the household; adopted Papa's principles, and never spoke ill of anyone or meddled in the lives of others. She was stricter than Papa; sometimes, when he was not around, she secretly slapped my sister or me – of course, when we deserved it. She never reproved Papa when times were hard, and accepted the situation.

My sister Shifra was born in 1924, when I was fourteen years old. My parents were very happy, as they didn't want me to be an only child. Shifra was not tall, but

[Page 155]

she was strongly built, obedient, and a good student. Shifra never studied beyond fourth grade -- at age 14, she left school to learn tailoring, at which she proved extremely gifted. She had many friends her age, who enjoyed her calm personality.

I crossed the Bug in 1939, the river that was the border between the USSR and Hitler's Germany. My parents and sister did not want to leave, saying, “We'll endure the same fate as everyone else.” People had talked themselves into a kind of placidity, even as they were slowly learning that the Jews of Germany were fleeing. That was how we parted forever.

When I was roaming through the Zhytomyr region, I would often send my family in Skryhiczyn 10-kilogram food packages. They responded in laconic messages: “We are well, we received the packages, and we're not worried.” I was happy just to see my father's handwriting. This continued until that tragic Sunday, June 22, 1941, when Hitler's army attacked the USSR.

That day, I had gone to the post office, to send my parents a food package. The clerks were filling out the mailing documents, when everything stopped: USSR Foreign Minister Molotov had just announced over the radio that the war had begun. Stricken, I went back home miserably, thinking that I would never see my nearest and dearest again. The bloody knives of Hitler's murderers cut everything down forever. The last spark of hope that I would see them again vanished. My family certainly went down the same blood-drenched road as all the Jews of Dubienka, with the masses of other martyrs. In their memory, I say kaddish for them every day, as I consider every day their memorial day.

Often, in the small towns and villages of Poland, people had nicknames in addition to their first and last names. One of the Jews of Skryhiczyn, Henech, was tall and of medium build, and his face was encircled by an oblong black beard. He was observant, a member of the Radzyn Hassidic group, and wore their special tallis-katan with blue thread woven into the fringes.^[5] He had his own house, with a small kitchen garden and a stall for the cow.

He made his living mainly by trading in calves and cows, and travelled daily between towns and villages, from morning to night, seeking merchandise. Henech was very observant, and his well-maintained household reflected his dedication. However, this did not prevent him from having conversations with everyone and telling jokes. He never seemed downcast. At home, though, he was very strict,

He had three daughters and a son, all young. His oldest daughter Feigeh, who now lives in Israel, was responsible for most of the housework. Henech was courteous towards others, never demanding anything, and had a good reputation. However, either because of his religious dedication or out of fear of staining this reputation, he was very severe with his children. Every move of his children out of doors was strictly controlled; he believed that his children should be brought up according to the same rules that had affected his own childhood.

[Page 156]

Yet he was a very devoted provider to his family.

His wife, Mindl, was of medium build, with a pleasant face. She ran the household according to her husband's wishes, was always dressed neatly, and kept a spotless home, in firm adherence to Jewish law. Unlike her husband, who was fond of visiting neighbors during the long winter evenings and whenever he was free in summer, Mindl was mostly at home. Sometimes, she would visit her own family, but most likely her household duties kept her close to home.

The oldest daughter, Feigeh, was married in 1939 – the same year that for the Jewish people spelled the beginning of a period of utter destruction, incredible pain, and annihilation by mass murder by the Nazis and their partners. People began to panic, fleeing aimlessly, not knowing where they could be safe. Feigeh moved across the Bug, but Henech and his family continued to live in Skryhiczyn, not heeding all the pleas that they escape. Many people reasoned as he did: “Where would I go? All the Jews are staying in their places, and I will undergo the same fate as they.” Thus, his family joined the multitude of victims in the Dubienka ghetto whose fate was inevitable. The ground absorbed the blood of Henech and his family. The sacred figures of Henech and his family will never be forgotten.

A person worth remembering does not need to be eminent; he might be a simple person – a laborer working hard to ensure his livelihood, who is decent towards others, and lives honorably. That was the case with Shmuel Tsals, who worked at the sawmill. He appears as Shmuel Vorzayger in the government lists. He was tall and athletic, with a plodding gait. His short, dense, and curly beard obscured his face, except for his forehead, eyes, and nose. He was one of four brothers, all powerful and broad-shouldered.

Shmuel worked hard all his life, into middle age. He began early by helping his parents earn a living. He was the oldest son; there were no girls in the family. After he was married, he started working at the sawmill, doing the heaviest jobs, in order to feed his wife and six children. As he began working at a young age, he did not receive an education. In adulthood, he was eager for every drop of knowledge he could gain; he never tired of sitting and listening to someone reading the newspaper or a book aloud. All his senses were then dedicated to listening to the reader, fearing to lose the slightest word. His admiration of literate people led him to respect anyone, young or old, who spoke of literature. He would make sure to bring a newspaper from Dubienka. In the evening, when he came home from work exhausted, he would tether his horses and wagon to my fence and say, “Dovid, I beg you, read me something from the newspaper.” As I read to him, he became oblivious to everything else. After I read out loud for fifteen or twenty minutes, he seemed to

[Page 157]

wake from a sweet dream; still in that mood, he would walk to the street, untie his horses, and go on home.

His wife, on the other hand, was very thin, to the point of emaciation, but healthy and very capable. She helped to make their living: she would purchase a cherry tree from one peasant and a few eggs or a hen from another, or even a calf. The children virtually raised themselves. The oldest children took care of the youngest. The slender wife worked until the last minute before giving birth; her births were almost unaided. Though both parents worked constantly, there were always shortages in the household – shoes, pants, or a dress. This was common among laborers and artisans, especially if they had young children.

Shmuel had three brothers – Pinyeh, Yankl, and Sho'ul. The latter went to Palestine in the 1930s, and lives in Haifa. All four brothers were healthy and strong; they resembled their mother Frymet, who was tall and strong. Their father, Moyshe Tsals, wasn't tall, but he was muscular. Though he had lost an eye, he was a house painter as well as a clarinet player in a Klezmer band that entertained at weddings. Moyshe was part of the renowned Dubienka band that played at all the Jewish weddings in Dubienka and its surroundings. The children were very respectful of their parents, especially of their mother. Relationships in the family were very close and strong. Moyshe and three of his sons lived in Dubienka and made a good living.

Moyshe's performances at wedding followed a certain pattern. He played softly at first, to establish a calm mood; however, when the time came to veil the bride, the sounds of his clarinet were rousing and emotional, moving many to tears, and encouraging the women to make special requests and pronounce blessings. This was followed by a freylekhs, the merry wedding dance. When he played the freylekhs, he raised his instrument so high that it seemed to point at the sky; the tones were a clarion call, proclaiming, “Heaven and earth, I hereby announce that this is a Jewish wedding – let's all rejoice!”

These were Moyshe Tsals and his children: strong members of peaceable, decent families, who could not defend themselves against the murderers. We honor their sacred memory!

The Blass family lived in Skryhiczyn and was known to everyone. Their father, Chanania, died young after catching cold. His wife, Beyleh, was left on her own, with her children, and pregnant. When the child was born, he was named Nosil-Chanania; he still lives in Lemberg, in the USSR.^[6] Beyleh raised the children as best she could. When the oldest son, Borech, grew up, he helped his mother make a living. The moment they could, all the children helped their mother make ends meet. Beyleh died in 1927, and Borech became the family's leader. For years, he traded in domestic animals, and ran a butcher shop. The younger children also began working, yet received an education that was as refined as possible under the circumstances

[Page 158]

The house was a meeting point for young people and was also visited by passers-by and itinerant traders. In later years, before World War II broke out, Borech and Nosil traded in barrel components. When the children were grown, their sister married Avrom Rozenblum (known as Leybush's son Avrom), and gave birth to one daughter, Sarah. We all lived together in a large house on a hilltop. The house was divided into three sections. I lived in one section with my wife Perl (the youngest sister) and my year-old daughter Beyleh. The families lived peacefully with each other.

At the outbreak of the war, I, with my brother-in-law Borech and sister-in-law Hindeh crossed the Bug with our families and settled temporarily in Kladniv. My brother-in-law Nosil, who was as yet unmarried, went to Kovel. In 1940, we were in Zhytomyr. Eventually, we were evacuated to the Poltava province, where we were assigned to a sugar factory in one of the province's regions. Baruch and Hindeh and their families were sent to a kolkhoz in a different part of the province.^[7] Life in the kolkhoz was relatively harder than life for us, and becoming accustomed to a new way of living in a poor kolkhoz was another challenge. Until Hitler's attack on the USSR, on June 21, 1941, living conditions in Belorussia and western Ukraine were relatively better than in the territory of Russia proper. This was also the case in the areas that Russia had taken from Poland in 1939, compared with Russia. There was free trade, and some private property rights that enabled people to acquire plots of land and build houses. Collectivization was a gradual process. The western areas became a refuge for those who had fled occupied German territory, or refugees from other areas.

Although we begged Borech and his family to stay with us and not to return, their obstinacy won out. They returned to Maniewicze, where Hindeh and her family had gone a week earlier, and settled in quite well; in fact, they advised us to join them. We tried to take the steps necessary to return, but by then special permission was needed, which we did not have. We tried to go illegally, but were unsuccessful, had to turn back halfway through and return to our home in Zhytomyr province.

When war began on June 22, 1941, our connection was severed. Some family members went to the farthest reaches of the USSR, and met a fate identical to that of the rest of the six million martyrs. The Jews of Maniewicze shared the same destiny. May their memory be a monument for us and coming generations. May the wrong done by the Nazi murderers to our nearest and dearest, and to the entire Jewish people, never be forgotten.

[Page 159]

Menasheh Shidlovsky

Menasheh Shidlovsky (peace be upon him) and his family belonged to one of the ramified families of Skryhiczyn, the Rottenberg clan. The clan was renowned for its scholarship as well as its worldly achievements.

The elderly Menasheh was an example of a brilliant person. Despite his advanced age, he was strongly built, with a long, dense snow-white beard. His face was amiable, in spite of the penetrating dark eyes that seemed to see for great distances. He was very learned, and extremely strict about keeping Jewish laws. Everyone who knew him had the greatest respect for him, due to his modest behavior and politeness towards everyone. He was considered a person sympathetic to others who did not want to display his learning and thereby embarrass the listener who might not have been so learned. He brought up his children in an unusual way, helped by his wife Feygele (peace be upon her). The home was suffused with a pioneering Zionist spirit and longing for the land of the Bible, the Land of Israel. This led to a strong desire to move to Palestine. At the time – about fifty years ago – such a trip entailed physical discomfort, and the danger of disease due to the difficult conditions caused by the occupying regime of the time, food shortages, hard physical labor, and other unpleasant surprises.^[8] In spite of all this, the wish to travel there became firmly entrenched. Their son Aharon and daughter Chana made the move. According to witnesses, when they parted from their parents, the latter did not weep, but wished their children success on their longed-for journey, and blessed them for partaking in rebuilding the Jewish presence that had been destroyed about two thousand years earlier.

Menasheh had three sons and six daughters; one son and one daughter live in Israel. The other children shared the fate of the six million victims of the Nazi regime. Menasheh and his wife Feygele died a few years before the tragic date of 1939. Their resting places are unknown; the Dubienka cemetery became a free pasture for horses and cows.

One of his sons was Motl, who resembled his father in scholarship as well as in intelligence. He was also like him physically – broad-boned and black-bearded. Motl was smart and perceptive; he was often called on as an arbiter in disagreements, and people accepted his verdicts unquestioningly. He lived on his land allotment, past the orchard and close to the meadows, in a fine house. He had three children with his first wife, Brocheh. After her death, he remarried and had four children. Relations at home were exemplary. The children were educated at home, by their mother and a nanny, and received a better education than they could have had at school. Each child had their own schedule for studying and doing chores. The children were respectful towards each other and

[Page 160]

towards their parents; this was also their attitude towards strangers. It was truly a meticulous upbringing, both at home and outdoors. All the family members were industrious.

For many years, Motl Shidlovsky was the manager for Shiyeh Burshtein. After the Burshtein enterprise was liquidated, Motl devoted himself to working his own fields. Moyshe, one of his sons, left for Palestine shortly before the war, as did one sister who survived the war. Both currently live in Israel.

The other family members have been active participants in creating the monument to our townspeople, to preserve their memory forever.

Translator's Footnotes

1. This is a reference to the brown uniforms of the Nazi Storm Troopers, the paramilitary organization that played a key role in Hitler's rise to power. Return
2. A Khalat is a type of loose, long-sleeved robe, historically worn as a ceremonial garment by some religious Ashkenazi Jews. Return
3. Hassidic hats differ in different Hassidic groups; I was unable to determine which type of hat is referred to here. Return
4. The last name is obviously misspelled; the text shows ‘Adledr’. I have corrected it in the most likely way. Return
5. The ‘tallis-katan’ (‘small tallis’) is a miniature prayer shawl worn by boys and men directly on the body. The Radzyn Hassidic group was founded by Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner (1800–1854). Its adherents follow the instructions of Maimonides (based on Numbers, 15:35) to add blue thread into the garment's white fringes; use of the blue dye, apparently produced by a marine invertebrate, is considered a mark of special devotion. Return
6. The former Lemberg is now known as Lviv and is located in present day Ukraine. Return
7. A kolkhoz was a Soviet collective farm. Return
8. The reference to an ‘occupying regime’ may refer to the British, who administered the area from the end of World War I until Israeli Independence. Return

As we came to work early on July 7, we were greeted by the sad news that Ida Merżan, the commendable activist and pedagogue who loved children, was no more. She died suddenly during the night of July 5-6, at age 80. Our hearts contracted with immense sorrow. How was this possible? Ida, who had come to the office only a few days ago with her usual smile, bringing material for the presses and talking about her dynamic plans for the future before leaving hurriedly for a meeting of the Polish Korczak committee!

Ida's unexpected death wrapped our community in Poland in sorrow, as well as her numerous friends and admirers worldwide. Her departure is a great loss for our entire project. Her name will no longer shine on the pages of the Folks-Shtimeh, nor will her fascinating articles appear there.^[1] Her voice will be heard no more at meetings and conferences. Our pain and sorrow are immense.

My connection with Ida Merżan goes back more than forty years, years of friendship and working together. We first met at a meeting of the Polish Jewish Central Committee in early 1946. Ida represented the child-care section and I, the young people. I remember her interesting talk, in which she informed us about conditions in the new orphanages in various countries. These were the earliest postwar efforts to revive shattered Jewish life. Accurate numbers of Jewish children who miraculously survived were not yet available. Ida provided the committee with information about what our children needed – underwear, clothing, footwear, food items. She called for action to make sure that our tiny fraction of children would survive, and that these rescued flowers of our nation would regain mental and spiritual equilibrium as well as physical vigor. That was the crucial mission of Jewish social organizations, especially of the children's section of the Jewish Central Committee, in which Ida played such a significant role.

From then on, I followed the activity of this pleasant woman, herself a mother of two. I marveled at her inexhaustible energy and ceaseless activity, as she took trains and buses all over Poland. Wherever child survivors needed help, she was there, devoting herself to them heart and soul, tirelessly dedicating her best efforts to that end.

[Page 161]

Visiting children's homes was not Ida's only task. She handed out practical instructions, helped the caregivers, and shared her rich pedagogical experience in taking loving care of children's needs. Upon returning to Warsaw, she prepared reports of what she had seen and heard; these reports were published in the first postwar Yiddish periodical with the symbolic name Dos Naje Lebn (New Life).^[2] As early as June 1945, Ida published an interesting description of a children's home in Lublin, where the Red Army forces had brought a few dozen child survivors of the Majdanek extermination camp. Ida proceeded to combine pedagogical work with journalistic activity. She published many articles in Naje Lebn, and after 1950 – in Folks-Shtimeh, where she worked until the very end of her life.

Ida was born in the small town of Dubienka, to a family of farmers, where she received a traditional Jewish education. She and her father later moved to Odessa, where she attended a Russian Gymnaziya and joined a socialist group. She went to Warsaw in 1928 and worked as an educator at Dr. Janusz Korczak's orphanage – in the Krochmalna St. building for one year, and later as the director of the Children's' Home in Warsaw's Gocławek neighborhood. Ida taught Yiddish and Jewish studies to those orphans who attended a Polish school. At one time, she also worked as an educator in Korczak's orphanage on Płocka Street. When that was liquidated by the municipal authorities, she moved with a group of children to the sanatorium at Otwock, which was run by the well-known Yiddish poet Kalman Liss.

When Hitler's Germany attacked our country, the first victims of the bombardment were the children convalescing at the Otwock sanitarium. Many of the medical staff were killed or wounded. Ida suffered a head injury; Dr. Korczak brought her to his own home and cared for her until she recovered.

On the seventh day of the war, Ida and her family returned to her birthplace Dubienka, and continued to nearby Kovel, seat of the Council. Ida worked in the Education Department of the council, as inspector of children's homes and kindergartens. When the Nazi beasts attacked the USSR, two years later, she had to evacuate to Kazakhstan, where she did educational work in Alma-Ata. She was head of pedagogy at the children's home; the parents of these children were at the front, fighting the Nazis.

Ida was repatriated from the USSR to Poland in 1945, and immediately immersed herself in caring for the child survivors. She became an instructor in the children's homes, on behalf of the Children's Protection arm of the Central Jewish Committee of Poland. In 1958, when the Korczak Orphanage was reopened on Krochmalna St., she worked as an educator. Later, she did the same work at the former Nasz Dom Korczak Children's Home in the Bielany neighborhood of Warsaw. In 1946, she also became a member of the Korczak Committee at the Society of Children's Friends. Simultaneously, she continued her tireless work as a journalist, and worked for important periodicals such as Family and School, Pre-Kindergarten Education, and Problems of

[Page 162]

Supervision and Education. She wrote a regular column “For Parents” in the widely circulated women's weekly magazine Przyjaciółka, as well as a weekly column “Talking with Parents” in the Folks-Shtimeh, besides giving regular talks on Polish radio.

Ida wrote more than ten books and pamphlets in Yiddish and Polish. Among these were The Old Man; Do You Love Me, Mother?; Our Economy; Games, Toys, Children; Childhood Education; My Work at the Children's Home; There Are No Bad Children; The Child at Home and at Kindergarten. She constantly circulated the enduring teachings of Dr. Janusz Korczak, her guide and friend.

Her work with Korczak, the famous pedagogue and champion of children enriched her immensely. His weekly meetings with the educational workers, theoretical work and practical instructions refined her educational knowledge and understanding. She knew the beautiful and complicated figure of one of the greatest educators of modern times, and felt it was her mission to not only safeguard his rich legacy but to acquaint younger educators with his teachings so that they would apply them in everyday educational settings. Her service in this field was invaluable.

Ida was considered a great authority in matters connected to Korczak's teachings. She received letters from scholars, pedagogues, psychologists, writers, and physicians in Poland and elsewhere. Her responses were always instructive.

Her contributions to pedagogy earned Ida several official awards. It is worth noting that she helped publish Korczak's collected works. Her book Let Nothing Be Forgotten, a description of the Orphanage headed by Korczak at 92 Krochmalna St., Warsaw, has just been published.

The death of Ida Merżan marks the disappearance of a gentle, warm person who was kind, honest, comradely, sensitive to injustice, and always ready to help the needy. She will remain that way forever in our memories.

The leadership of the Social and Cultural Association of Jews in Poland and the Editorial Board of the Folks-Shtimeh extend their deepest condolences to the bereaved family. Let the fine reputation she left behind be a consolation to her family.

We honor her shining memory!

[Page 163]

Aharon Shidlovsky, son of Menasheh and Feyge, January 2, 1892 – December 15, 1979		Joseph Shidlovsky, son of Menasheh and Feyge, Nov. 21, 1896 – July 16, 1988

Itta Chadash, daughter of Hanoch and Pesyeh Rottenberg, February 1, 1901 – December 1, 1987		Chaveh Pens, daughter of Hanoch and Pesyeh Rottenberg, June 28, 1899 – December 30, 1990		Mordechai Rottenberg, son of Hanoch and Pesyeh Rottenberg, April 1897-January 17, 1969

  Dubienka, Poland     Yizkor Book Project     JewishGen Home Page

Copyright © 1999-2025 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 14 Sep 2025 by JH