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May these lines from me, a fellow townsman, whom fate carried from Pintes Street to the highest corner of the world, in far away Bolivia, be a small stone on the memorial monument of our birth town Koło.

I often reflect, and like in a panorama, scenes run through my mind from four decades ago. I can see myself on Pintes Street, among the brick and wooden houses; I am back as a pupil of Anshl Bik, the teacher. I walk by Shatan's granary. The scenes end quickly. A gang of boys walk through the alleys, arrive at “Lasek” and from there walk to the memorial of the “Two Brothers” – at the end of town. They walk further, until the nearby village Kashteletz with the suspension bridge…

Another recollection: the Warta River which surround the city, invites us to take a walk. My friends and I rent a boat from the Pole Markovsky, and do a round trip from the “German teacher” until Pintes Street, passing Kovalsky's. On the water we see peasants on rafts. The scene changes: women are doing laundry on the river banks, and not far from them, children are catching fish. It was practically a custom, that on Tisha B'Av, we went fishing. On a Friday afternoon, the crowd is bathing in the river. Some are doing tricks and all sorts of stunts while swimming. They lay down on benches, swim on their backs, and step out. All clean and dressed up, they go to synagogue to welcome the Sabbath, and after, to the Friday evening supper…

The town is wrapped in greenery, a lot of greenery. Couples walk down the beautiful alleys, and as in the rest of the world, swear their “eternal love”. Also those who have come to their summer homes from Warsaw and Lodz are delighted by the summer landscape.

In those years, at the old marketplace, where the city hall stood, the town drummer would appear (we called him “Yakh with the drum”). He would come out of the city hall like a high ranking official, with his drum hanging on a leather strap. He stopped in all corners of the marketplace,

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banged his drum and called the “audience” to gather. Once there was a large crowd gathered around him, “Yakh” would stand stiff, become “official”, wipe his long mustache, and inform the public that the night before a pig had been stolen. Anyone who knew about the theft and would not report it would be punished.

During the winter the marketplace was cozy and lively, especially on market days -Tuesdays and Fridays. The marketplace was filled with wagons with grain. There were lady farmers with chickens, eggs, butter, fruit. They were besieged by Jewish shoppers. They chewed straw, bargained, cursed, then clapped their hands and a deal was made.

On some wagons there was peat, bundles of wood, sacks of potatoes. On Sukkot the farmers brought green branches to cover the Sukkah, and on Passover they brought beets to make borscht. Jews on their way to the House of Study, carrying their bags with their prayer shawls under their arms, would stop at the wagons, examine the peat to check if it was dry, take a potato out of a sack and examine it as if they were experts. Who is not an expert on leftover vegetables?

The teacher from town with the nickname old onion glutton, gives “private lessons”. He strides slowly and seriously, like…a teacher. His face is bordered by small black beard and his eyes are obstructed by glasses. He smokes a pipe, as it befits an intellectual. If you interrupt him, he offers you a sniff of tobacco, his use of tobacco was masterful from hand to nose. Filling his nostrils, inhaling and sneezing was like a concert performance of tobacco sniffing.

The Gabbai of the House of Prayer Reb Nakhman the Shrieker (he shrieked when he spoke), the teachers in the Heder (religious school): Anshel Bik, Vaterkhiye, Reb Efraim Zumershvartz, as well as the artisans: Mosihe the shoemaker, Avrom-Mendl “The Hammer”, Moishe Mliniker, Hertzke Parkh, Pukatch and others, were regular guests in the marketplace every morning.

Two brothers, who dealt in fruits, “the useful”, stand with a large covered wagon and a variety of fruits spread out on a table. Beside them, Ezriel Fisher, Moishe Yunivetcher, Soreh the fish woman with washtubs filled with all sorts of fish – tench, pike, gudgeon, and of course, carp for the rich. The fish swim around the barrels and splash. The small fish protrude, and Soreh the fish woman swears on all oaths to the poor customers that the fish had just been alive: “Let me live to see all good things!”.

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In a bustling corner of the marketplace there is “Slek's” stand with soda water. He adds a bit of syrup “for free”. Not far from him is Khemiye Brener with his halva, chocolate and other delicious things for the Sabbath. The herring merchant is across from him. All the barrels are the same except for one which had schmaltz herring. In the others there is marinated herring, and the last one, herring for the poor, herring with a smell…

The synagogue and the House of Study are in the new marketplace. In the vicinity, the slaughterhouse and the ritual bath. In the centre of the marketplace stand the municipal theatre and the fire department.

The impudent boys in town, who feared no one, would sit in Avrom-Yakov Band's tavern. There you could find: Itzil Tap, the blind Binem, Shaye Zhelozhnik, Volf Tantsmayster, Khaim Elye Makhak, Khaim-Isar Kuntzman, Shmuel Shad, Hersh Poyer, Yakov Smatshaz and others like them. The favourite food was gizzards drowned in beer. All the while they told stories about the Russo-Japanese war, Port Arthur and hummed a familiar military march.

If we are talking about music we must mention, at that time in Koło, there was the famous band of Reb Yekhiel Klezmer (musician). They were well-known in the whole region. Yekhiel was invited to the nobleman's court for balls and weddings. The fact he could not read notes did not bother him. He did not need them. He sent his son Zalman to study in a non-Jewish school where he learned music. This is how he became a great “scholar”. They came to him to write “petitions” and to review government “papers” sent by the authorities.

Yekhiel was an observant Jew, not pious, but never missed the evening prayers in the Prayer House. He dressed in German style: summer – in a light suit with a white cloth vest, upon which, with largesse, he wore a large twisted chain from a silver watch – a wedding gift. On the chain hung a medallion with the head of the Russian king and a horse. His face was outlined with a short-trimmed beard, he wore a round hat. On his middle finger of his right hand – a wide gold signet ring. Yekhiel often used this ring as collateral, depositing it with the parents of the bride ensuring his participation at the wedding, and as not to disrupt the celebration, his band would perform on time.

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Hi second son Yoineh was a tailor of ready to wear clothing. On market days he stood with a covered wagon and sold cloth suits for the peasant boys. Hew as also a bit of a musician, drumming a drum. His son-in-law Yosef Litvak, who came from Russia, played the bass. Litvak's son played the trumpet.

When there was a wedding in town, one educated in Torah, they had to use Yekhiel's band. The wedding canopy was set up near the synagogue. They led the bride and groom there accompanied by music. Half the town followed Reb Yekhiel's band, listening to the Russian march, his son-in-law's repertoire, and folk melodies. They brought a bit of joy to the quiet streets and alleys.

During the wedding meal, when the band played background music or pieces from the operettas “Bar Kokhba”, “Shulamis” or “David in the Desert”, the crowd was delighted. When Yekhiel got sleepy and could no longer rest the fiddle on his chin, he rested it on his stomach. Zalman, who played first fiddle (and played with his eyes closed), would wake him up: Father, Beh! Father, Eh! Tseh! Yekhiel would answer him: We will soon play “Beh” as well as Tseh”.

The high holidays hold a special place in my memory.

Passover eve. It is lively and joyful in the courtyard. The old straw which had a damp smell was removed from the mattresses. Leaning against the posts were bundles of fresh straw. People beat their bedding; feathers flew as if it was snowing. Our neighbour Henyieh, Reb Ezriel Fisher's wife, made her dishes Kosher for Passover: everyone wished each other a Kosher Passover, and to live another year in good health and in a good mood.

Reb Yosef-Volf the wagon driver, who twice a week drove Zvikelsky's omnibus to Kalisz, does one more trip during the week of Passover. He does not want to be ashamed on Passover up to the last minute.

The sun, also different, begins to warm mildly. What a pleasure. It already feels like spring. Young children jump on the straw in the courtyards and transform a barrel of water into a ship…Noisily they fill the Hallel with their trumpeting voices.

Reb Hersh “Kaizer” our neighbour, a tailor of ready-made clothes, on holidays becomes a hat maker, a painter, a presser. He takes old clothing and makes them look brand new, unrecognizable.

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He stands today from early in the morning on in the courtyard next to a crooked table whose boards do not live peacefully together. One board has lifted and the second deliberately and in spite of everything descended a few centimetres. There is no talk of “equality”, but Reb Hersh does not pay attention to such trivialities. The table, an inheritance from his father, of blessed memory, was always useful. Today it will also function well allowing him to display the holiday clothes.

Beside the table stood a bowl with blue water. Every once in a while, Reb Hersh dips in the brush, lets a few drops fall and then decorates the clothes for the wealthy men, who for various reasons do not like to buy new clothes from Pomp, the best tailor in town. Reb Hersh works until late at night. With his eyes red from fatigue, he consoles himself: “during the holiday I will get some rest”. His wife Gitl, thin as a stick, helps him by sewing buttons on the pants and delivering the goods to their customers.

One can smell the freshly baked Matzah everywhere, a scent of Passover. Even at our house we already had the “bread of affliction”. Delivery guys would bring the Matzahs from Reb Moti's bakery and they were packed in a white clean blanket. After receiving payment for delivery, he wished my father a Kosher Passover and father replied: The same to you!

In the streets everyone worked up steam: they polished, cleaned. Neighbours consulted on another on “important matters”: How many, for example, meals would they need, if they include the Sabbath? They offered Charoset which had thousands of flavours. One woman recounted, famous for finding bargains, that while shopping in the marketplace, heard some ill-natured gossip.

Father helps to bring Passover into the house, rushing not to be late in burning the Hametz. The Haggadot already on the table. Every few minutes another neighbour arrives and asks:

“Reb Yakov, when is it time to burn the Hametz?”

“In the Prayer House they said nine o'clock!” responded father with pride, as if fulfilling an important mission.

Passover eve, lunchtime. Frying potatoes in fat, cracklings tempt our nostrils. Even the gentiles enjoy the smells. The gentile shoemaker

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Meller, (who wore a beard like a Jew) relished a piece of Matzah which we gave him, washed down with red borsht. He wishes us to live another year and includes himself and wished us a Kosher Passover.

The head policeman Kagan, a convert from Judaism, also enjoys tasting Jewish foods and local Jews invite him to Reb Avrom-Yakov's tavern. There you can find lots of good things and drink a glass of Passover wine. On the interim days of Passover (as well as the interim days of Sukkot), a sea of guests would arrive: young men came from surrounding towns: Konin, Turek, Dambia, Izhvitz. With walking sticks in hand, they walked down the alleys inspecting potential brides. Teachers closed “transactions” and took in new students for a “term”, a half year.

Who doesn't remember the Days of Awe and the period of repentance?

It is already autumn and rainy. In the morning no one feels like getting up, but they must. Father says that on such a dreadful day fish tremble in the water…on dark mornings and often at night we must get up and go recite the prayers of repentance. A choir is organized in honour of Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year), which will help those leading prayers. The ritual slaughterer from Kladov is the director, he leads Musaf (the supplementary service). Rehearsals take place all week and the sweet melodies ring out in the streets. Tuvye the fruit dealer has a boy who sings in the choir and his voice is so sweet. He loses himself in his old voice: “One who passes a modest person under his staff” repeating a few times “under his staff”, and Mendl Ezra, the bass singer responds with “His staff! His staff!”.

On the eve of Rosh Hashana and on Rosh Hashana everyone wishes one another “A good year!” and “May you be inscribed for a good year. And on the eve of Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) – “May you be sealed for a good year” and “Have an easy fast!”.

The years pass quickly in the world and meanwhile deeds are being accomplished. Things are also changing for us in Koło.

During the years 1916-1918 the Jewish parties renewed activity, organizing and beginning a new era.

The youth gather in locked venues and outings. New songs are taught in forests and fields. National holidays are portends for celebrations. Of all the outings outside the city, the largest was

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in Dombia. As they walked the few kilometres one could hear the songs resounding on the road.

After marching a few more kilometres we arrive in Chelmno.

A group of “Hechalutz” members in Chelmno, 1919

When the San Remo Act was proclaimed, the excitement saw no boundaries. All the Zionist parties collected signatures, demanding the Land of Israel for the Jewish nation. The agitation in the schools and public locales reached its highpoint and led to heated discussions with its opposers, particularly the “Bund”.

Every Saturday representatives would come from headquarters, speakers and lecturers. Each one attracted an audience. Meetings were often held and those gathered would derive pleasure from the discussions between the presenters. One scolded the other, they conflicted and each one exposed the baggage with acuteness and knowledge.

Last but not least – “Hechalutz” (“The Pioneer”). A Jewish land owner consented to

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help prepare Jewish youth for the Land of Israel, teaching them how to work the land and run a farming economy.

The Branch of “Hechalutz” in Koło, in 1919 First row (From right to left): Efraim Vaynshtok, Sh.A. Shlezinger, Avigdor Shike, Fishl Rauf Second row: Yehuda Pshedetsky, Mashkovitch, Esther Feldman, Varmbroyn, Moiseh Guldman. The last one – Avigdor Rozental Third row: Koyfman Mikhalovitch - - - A. Yarrmush.

They did not only love to talk and expand, they also listened. When a Jewish preacher or orator came to town they swallowed every word, every example, every story.

And a word about the “Ein Yakov” readers.^[1] After the evening prayers, my father, of blessed memory, would study with a cluster of Jews, the legends from “Ein Yakov”. They listened attentively and searched for the hidden meanings and subsequently forgot about their daily worries.

All is gone, but not forgotten.

La Paz, Bolivia.

Translator's Footnote

1. The “Ein Yakov” or “Jacob's Well” was a 16^th century compilation of legend material in the Talmud. Return

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