[Column 419]

Lakhva – and other such names among the forgotten, Like scraps and strips torn and chewed away; You are no more – these faded wooden cradles right here. From our childhood days, And not even the coffins Into which We lay away our dead years, To rot and decay without a meaning… Today you drift us slowly farther away, As the last shapes of those letters shake themselves loose; And those that remain – already search for a path

[Column 420]

For their first no-longer-certain steps… For loneliness has made us far older than time itself. And need has taught us – The taste of bitterness. And we can no longer do without Whoever will still leave us A tear; A mother, old as a faded blade of grass, Or a father, gray with broken hands, Or even just a pair of damp, rickety walls… We are almost no longer your sons, For we wish neither to live nor to perish without a meaning…

1. Inmitn (“In the Midst”) is a 1939 Warsaw–published collection of modernist Yiddish poetry by Itshe Slutsky, a native of Lakhva who later became one of the leaders of the Lakhva Ghetto uprising. The book is rare today, as most copies were destroyed during the war; the poems included here are among the few surviving pieces from that volume. Return

[Column 419]

I am heartsore. And from my sorrow I braid a wreath for the dead man, who once – like me – found his joy in weaving garlands for G-d and man. And the man had many names, and many words. But today he is dead – and dead are his names. He had many faces, and many hands, and eyes never sated with seeing – and now, blind. And the man had blood – hot, seething blood, and a heart that trembled with love and life;

[Column 420]

and a mind that never found rest – not even at night. But suddenly the blood within him stood still, like the pulse of a clock; and there was no key with which to wind it, like a simple clock – (only pain and weeping). And from his refined flesh and bone there came to be a simple corpse… I am heartsore, and from my sorrow there spill thick, shapeless words about life and death, as a thousand years ago (only clothed today in new expressions). For people themselves, in every generation, and people themselves, in every passing year, seek new lives – and also new deaths…

1. Inmitn (“In the Midst”) is a 1939 Warsaw–published collection of modernist Yiddish poetry by Itshe Slutsky, a native of Lakhva who later became one of the leaders of the Lakhva Ghetto uprising. The book is rare today, as most copies were destroyed during the war; the poems included here are among the few surviving pieces from that volume. Return

[Column 421]

Approximately fifty years ago, the entire town consisted of about 350 families, almost half Jews and half Christians. We lived very well with our neighbors. We spoke three languages: Yiddish, Russian, and Polish.

Lakhva was an exception in our region. We always had a livelihood from the large forests of our estate owners. The Lakhva estate with its forests, numbering in the thousands of desiatinas [hectares], had a name in our region. At one point, the forests in the estate belonged to a poretz [estate owner] named Agarkov. In my time, it belonged to the poretz Ignatiev, a very liberal Christian, and his estate manager Bogomirski, a true friend.

The forests yielded the finest timber: beams, sleepers, planks, hewn logs, staves, rafters, stakes, and more. Wood was also chopped to heat the houses in the winter, charcoal was burned, and from the brushwood they made pitch.

This all brought livelihood for the tradespeople, for the small businesspeople, and for the forest merchants.

During my time, there were three very wealthy men in the shtetl: Meir Moravkin, Pinia Kaplan, and Moshe Lev. They had a name in Russia and abroad for their large businesses and

[Column 422]

weigh stations in Lakhva. They had large-scale connections with merchants who would come and generate livelihood in the town.

During the winter, they would bring the products from the forests to the train and then to the rivers, and make barges to float them. Many workers worked in the forests the entire year. Therefore, they patronized the shopkeepers such as Leib Romanovski, whose business consisted of groceries, household goods, shoemaker's leather, and straps for the harness-makers; and Mottel Chlez, a small-scale shopkeeper, so he had a yard full of old things – sacks, galoshes, odds and ends – to pack bundles for sending out whole wagonloads.

The other businesses [were those of] Shlomo, Yaakov, and Shmuel Rabinovitch.

The small businesses [were those of]: Yeshayahu Shechtman, Alter Basles, Leizer Hershel Mendeles, and Hershel the barrel-man. One shop was an exception: earlier it was called Feigel's shop, and then Chinke's, Fedl's, Rive's, Lipele's. The wealthy people and poretzes from Vogzal, the priest of the estate, and the estate managers all shopped at that store. One could purchase from it the finest wines, cognacs, sweets, chocolates, cigarettes, and everything which one could purchase with money during those years.

We had three fancy-goods shops: [those of] Shalom Romanovsky, David Slutsky, and Zisha Zaretsky.

The cattle merchants were another economic factor with us. They would buy up weak cattle in the villages during the winter, hold them in the forest during the summer, fatten them up with good

[Column 423]

grass and pure water, and ship them on wagons to Warsaw, Vilna, etc.

We had fish merchants, who would send small fish and fish pieces to the large cities; horse dealers who would travel around to the fairs, purchase horses, and sell them in Lakhva and the region. Butchers and other villagers would purchase grain, and rendering fat to produce oil. The oil press belonged to Alter Basles and Sheika Shechtman.

Next are the tradespeople: builders, carpenters, bricklayers, shoemakers, tailors. There were also a few idlers and cultured gentlemen of leisure.

The Lakhva market fifty years ago

The orphanage also served as a guesthouse. Various wayfarers and wagon drivers from Horodok would stay there.

The “aristocratic” guesthouse was owned by

[Column 424]

Shlomo-Zalman Moravnik. At one point, Shlomo-Zalman's guesthouse was known as “Di Bilke” [the simple guesthouse]. Large-scale forestry merchants, commissioners, and poretzes would stay there.

There were two mills and a hammer mill used for crushing grain and producing meal. The owners were the brothers Shlomo and Lipa Moravchik. Their sister Sheindel Rotner owned a large reservoir for kerosene, the largest in the entire region.

Yudel Slutsky, and Shlomo and Lipa Moravchik owned workshops for meal.

We barely had any poor people. There were poor people, unfortunates or sick, but there were not the types who made the rounds to the houses, as in other towns. There were two beggars who did not beg in the town, but rather in the area – Eliahu Ber and Leibush Eiziles.

Good, pious women concerned themselves with those who did not have anything for Sabbaths of festivals. These were Yocheved Chefetz and Chana Genias, as well as my aunt Beila Chefetz of the Gerkes [family].

We had three synagogues. The wealthy people, the important householders, and the tradespeople worshipped in the Beis Midrash. The butchers,

[Column 425]

grain and cattle merchants, and various small-businessmen and tradespeople worshipped in the Kalter Shul [Cold Synagogue].

There is a great deal to write about the Kalter Shul: It was a very nice building, constructed with talent. The architect must have been a genius. It is said that it was built at the end of the 17^th century. The Holy Ark was especially beautiful.

During my childhood years, I would climb up onto the cellar top to catch doves. I would admire the art of that architect from way back. The walls were artistically painted with figures of various animals and birds.

The Kalte Shul of Lakhva had a great name in our region. When guests would come to us, we would boast about our synagogue. Wayfarers would always come to see the synagogue, and they would admire its beauty and fullness.

We had a Hasidic shtibel. We had to fortify ourselves and strengthen ourselves, not regarding the building, but rather regarding the worshippers. They were all, without exception, fine Jews with fine beards and peyos. They dressed in satin kapotes with silk gartels, short trousers, white socks, and slippers. Their faces had a beautiful smile. One could see only godliness, wisdom, and knowledge with them. Their wives were modest in their piety and dress, different than the others. They would exit the shtibel after services on Sabbaths and festivals with their beautiful dresses with long sleeves, buttoned high up to the neck. Their aprons had little tassels, made out of silk strings.

We children were amazed by them. It looked like they came from another world. The contrast between the misnagdim and the Hasidim was very great.

Regarding culture we had what to be famous for: In our town, there were

[Column 426]

good teachers. We would begin learning at the age of three or four. The first melamdim [teachers of young children] were Yehuda Leib and Moshe Leib. Yoshe was almost the only melamed for the upper-class children. There was a Talmud Torah for the middle class and poorer people. There were good melamdim there as well. There was Avraham Bergman from Lenin for the younger children who studied Chumash with Rashi and Tanach. There were Moshe the Chimelevitsher and Mordechai Temkin for the older ones who studied Gemara.

We had a yeshiva for older students under the supervision of Hershel Mendeles, Pinia Kaplan's son-in-law. He was very well educated, and many Lakhvers have him to thank for their worldly education that they obtained in those years.

Many lads became outstanding learners, rabbis and scholars, and businesspeople. The parents would bless Pinia Kaplan for his very well-educated son-in-law. The entire town benefited from erudition.

We had teachers for those of means, and they charged high tuition fees. Lipa Chishe's Slutsky, Tzalel and Lipa Slutsky, Moshe der Krumer [the stooped] Freidele's, and Alter Shrpintze's were such teachers. There were also [such] Hebrew teachers: Meir Wolf's, my brother Yisrael-Mordechai Shklar, and Hershel Bracha's.

There were Jews like Moshe Leb, Mordechai Temkin, Noach the Shochet, and his erudite son Mates the Shochet who would study Gemara and Mishnah with them [i.e. students] in the Beis Midrash. There was a group who studied Chumash, and a Tehillim [Psalms] recitation society for regular people. The older intelligentsia read Hameilitz and Ruskaya Slova.

I will carry the memory of the old Tzadik Rabbi Avraham-Ber, may the memory of the righteous be blessed, forever, until the last day of my life. His was a name of renown in our circle. We children would boast that he would

[Column 427]

bless us on the eve of Yom Kippur. Our fathers would tell us, “Come my child, to the rabbi. He will bless you will be a good, pious Jew, for long years and good fortune.” These words will remain in my memory forever. I remember how I went to the house of the old Tzadik with my father. Before my eyes, I can still see the image of the house with the bookshelves with so many books. The good Tzadik would be sitting at the table, wearing a long tallit katan [tzitzit undergarment], with an open book, glasses on his nose, immersed [in learning], not lifting up his head until he was finished with his learning. Then, he would stand up, turned around, face the room, and see the fathers with their children. He would call up every father by name, ask for the son's name, place his holy, trembling hand upon the child's head, and bless him. I believe that every child felt as I did, that this is so holy and godly. The entire town, from young to old, even the Christians, revered the old Tzadik, and everyone gave him honor. When he walked to and from the synagogue, everyone moved aside and let him pass freely along the way, especially women. Both Jews and Christians used to move to the side of the street.

He would only talk to a few women. He would talk to Menuska the matron about women's halachic questions; to the elderly Yocheved about the poor people about whom she was concerned; and to my aunt Beila, for she was a close friend, and second, since he didn't know the vernacular at all, whenever a gentile came with a complaint against a Jew, Aunt Beila had to serve as the interpreter.

When a fire broke out in town, all the gentiles would shout to the Jews that they must bring the rabbi, because when the rabbi would come to the street of the fire and pass by the burning house or barn, the wind would shift

[Column 428]

to the side where there were no barns or houses…

The elderly Tzadik was married twice. His second wife was called Chisha di Rebbetzin. She was a very sharp–tongued matron who always complained that he was not much of a breadwinner.

The livelihood came from yeast and candles. The rabbi did not get involved in the business, and rebbetzin was the merchant. When a woman would come on Thursday to purchase candles for two kopecks, she [the rebbetzin] would go on and on complaining [to her] about the rabbi and his livelihood. If a housewife complained that the portion of yeast was too small for two kopecks or the candles were too thin, she was not lacking in curses. Do not even ask how she dealt with the women who would not purchase yeast each week, but rather saved some from week to week in a flask, or cut the candles into two so they would last for two Sabbaths. She knew every customer, and recognized those who did not come every week. When she would count the income from the entire week on Friday prior to candlelighting, the heavens would open and the elderly Tzadik would get an earful. In truth, one cannot really blame her, for the entire income for the week was about three rubles. The rabbi did not take any money for answering halachic questions. Torah adjudications were very rare, and if twice in a jubilee [fifty years] two Jews would fight and go to the rabbi, they would give him a quarter [of a ruble]. Once in several years, he would be involved in a get [divorce], and on such a day, the rebbetzin would cook a good dinner and not curse.

The Tzadik's family consisted of Rabbi Dovidl, Reb Itsche, and a daughter Lea from his first wife. From his second wife, he had Reb Mordechaile, and Reb Yosele, who died young, at the age of eighteen. I recall that the entire town was in sorrow, all the businesses

[Column 429]

closed during the time of the funeral, and everyone went to the holy place [cemetery].

The death of Yosele took a severe toll on the old Tzadik's health. He began to prepare to leave Lakhva and travel to the Holy Land, the Land of Israel. This left a great impression. When people found out that the rabbi was leaving us, everyone, without exception, children and adults, even gentiles including the priest – everyone felt that we were losing a great man, whose place nobody would be able to take. He was greatly beloved in everyone's heart. The entire town was abuzz, asking about which of his three sons would take his place, until the old Tzadik decided that Rabbi Itsche would take his place. After six months, he along with the rebbetzin, Reb Mordechaile with his wife Dinia-Tzertl and their two children, and his daughter Lea left our town.

The seal of Rabbi Itschele and the gabbaim

The farewells took days. Rabbis and prominent householders came from all the large and small cities. Anyone who knew

[Column 430]

the old Tzadik came to part from him and to receive his blessing.

I will never in my life forget the day that he left our town, in which he had served as rabbi for forty years. The entire town, across generations, Jews and Christians, went to Lubacziner Street. It was impossible to go to the rabbi's house. Gershon Lipschitz (der Stoychik [the steady one]), another young lad, the starshina [senior village official], and the starosta rode on horseback, keeping the crowd in order so that the [Tzadik's] wagon could leave the town in a fine procession of wagons. All the streets around the rabbi's house were full of people in wagons, together with their families. There were also Christians with their families. Those who did not have a wagon walked along to the railway station on foot. Everyone was weeping with bitter tears. There was a commotion until the train began to move. Many wealthy householders accompanied the Tzadik to Pinsk and onward. When the crowd went home, people went to the synagogues to recite Psalms and ask G-d to grant them a good trip, and a healthy arrival to the Land of Israel. Everyone had something to talk about in the market, praising him and saying how precious a person he was. Everyone held him in esteem, and nobody ever had anything bad to say.

It became joyous in the city once again, as they prepared to welcome Rabbi Itsche. Pinia Kaplan gave over his large house to the new rabbi. They cleaned the streets and repainted the old Beis Midrash. On the day that they brought the new rabbi in, all the shops were closed, and everyone traveled with wagons to Kazan Horodok to greet the new rabbi. Jews from Kazan Horodok accompanied Rabbi Itsche, who was so loved. He had lived there for several years, and owned a manufacturing business. That day was a celebration in both towns.

[Column 431]

The parade was a large one with musical instruments accompanying it the entire way. There were hundreds of wagons with hundreds of people walking on foot to the town.

More memories of this sort: When the Stoliner Rebbe used to come to his Hasidim, that day would be a joyous one in the town. During the reception, all the Hasidim would dress in their festive clothing and go about in song, and the entire town would rejoice with their great guest. He would be housed at the home of Gershon Lipschitz or Shlomo Rabinovitz. Everyone would gather around the house each night to see how the Rebbe would leave over a few bites in the plate from each meal, and the Hasidim would rush forward to snatch the shirayim [the remnants of a Hasidic rebbe's meal, considered to be a source of blessing]. They would be singing so much that the song could be heard from one end of the town to the other. This would go on for quite a while.

On the other hand, when the archbishop would come to town, they would clean the streets, and all the Jews would gather in the marketplace. They would light lanterns in all the synagogues. The rabbi and several Jews sat at a table with bread and water [to greet him]. When the priest arrived, they would go out with a Torah scroll. He would kiss it and bless the entire town before continuing on to the monastery. There, all the Christians were gathered. He would travel with several priests, but the principal figure was the local parish priest.

As for our priest, there is what to describe: He was a very good man. Children would go to the priest's orchard on the Sabbath. Older lads would go to the forest to read socialist brochures and smoke cigarettes. When they would return, they would go to the orchard to pick pears and apples. He would pretend to not notice, and let them pick. But when a group came and picked [the fruit] together with the branches, he would come out and scold them calmly and not with anger. He would say, “Children, you are indeed Jews, and Jews must not

[Column 432]

pick or break trees on the Sabbath. It is a sin.” His wife was also very liberal. They had two sons. One studied to be a priest and the other – a doctor.

There were two doctors in Lakhva: Chvirka was the “district doctor.” Guzenpod was the city feldsher [medic]. When a sick person was brought to them for healing, it cost ten kopecks. If they would make a remedy, a flask or a powder, it would be a quarter. You can imagine how they earned their livelihoods!

Chvirka earned a salary from the district office. He had a very fine, large house with a garden. The gentiles from the villages would bring him hens, eggs, and honey. He lived very well.

However, Guzenpod unfortunately struggled with his livelihood. He was a poor man. At first, he lived with Yosef the Brakar [inspector] in a fine house, and then he moved to Chisha Yustes [house]. He never had the money to pay rent. The landlords would let him stay as a gift, and half the year it remained a debt. A few years before my departure, our poretz sold the forests to a bank in Moscow, which sent laborers and engineers and began to build roads. They installed a telephone in the courtyard and began to sell farm plots.

The hundreds of new arrivals were settled within a few years, and the small town became a large city. After the First World War, many Jewish refugees began to arrive along with the farmers. The general situation improved. There were many shops, and the tradespeople also had better means of livelihood. This was the case until the misfortune came upon the Jews of Poland and in all of Europe.

Elul 5713, 1953

[Column 433]

Elderly Jews used to say that the Beis Midrash is already over one hundred years old. The founders were Rabbi Avraham-Ber Berkowitz, Yoshe the Melamed, Shmuel the Shamash, Shmuel Yitzchak Katzman, Yosef Slutsky, Pinchas Kaplan, Avraham Kopel's the miller Moravchik, and other householders.

The old Beis Midrash was built from wood in the architectural style of an old temple.

A shtibel was built alongside the Beis Midrash, where the common folk used to worship in the morning when it was still dark outside. The worshippers were small-scale businesspeople who went out to the villages in the morning to seek their livelihoods, and tradespeople who had to go outside the city to seek work. They were all ready for services in the morning before dawn.

During the day, Yerachmiel Chinitz would already come with his minyan for the Mincha services. That was called “Yerachmiel's minyan”.

The worshippers of the Beis Midrash were merchants, shopkeepers, and small-scale businesspeople. There was a struggle for the position of gabbai [synagogue trustees]. There was no way to dismiss the gabbaim in the Kalter Shul, but in the Beis Midrash, they were asked to step down every year on Shabbat Bereishit [the Sabbath following the fall festival period].

During the final years, the gabbaim were Shalom Romanovski, Gershon Shklar, and Zelig Chinitz. The deputy gabbai was Yosef Gozevitch, who held the established right to the post.

Our elder rabbi, Rabbi Yitzchak Berkovitz of blessed memory, was

[Column 434]

a regular worshipper at the Beis Midrash. He was known as a Tzadik, not only by us in the town, but also in the entire surrounding area, both by Jews, and, to differentiate, by Christians. His word was holy.

If it happened that a gentile had a dispute with a Jew, the gentile would summon the rabbi. Whatever the rabbi decided was considered holy.

Shmuel the Shamash, a pious Jew with a white beard, spent his life in the Beis Midrash with prayers and fasts. He would make the rounds at night to summon the congregation to the recitation of Psalms or Selichos. He would wake up the people with the sorrowful tune “come Jews to recite Selichos.” With the shine of the lantern, he would look like a godly man.

After his death, Yehoshua Lerman became the shamash. He was a pious Jew and a scholar who performed his work with great love and dedication, more for the sake of the mitzvah than for livelihood.

Wolf Malchikovitsh was the final shamash. He was also dedicated with his entire life to the holy work. He would help the rabbi in civic and personal matters.

The Hasidic shtibel was built by Moshe the Rabbi's, Noach the Shochet's father, Shlomo Cheifetz, Yosef Schwarin, and Hershel Mendeles.

The shtibel was built from the leftover wood that remained from Pinia Kaplan's house, which he had given over to the Talmud Torah.

It was not a large building, with no side shtibels.

[Column 435]

It had a women's gallery. The worshipers were Stoliner Hasidim. The Stoliner Rebbe, Rabbi Moshele, would come to Lakhva for the Sabbath once a year.

For the most part, the Stoliners in Lakhva were devoted Hasidim to their Rebbe.

A small portion of the Hasidim were followers of the Karliner Rebbe, Rabbi Ahrele. Reb Yehud Slutsky was one of them.

They worshipped in the Hasidic shtibel with more fervor and enthusiasm, with noise and lively movement. During the week, they conducted the services quickly, but on Sabbaths, they prayed and sung their hearty melodies. During Shalosh Seudos [the third Sabbath meal], when Reb Pinchas Tshernomoretz would shout out with his bass voice Shir Hamaalot Mimaamakim Keraticha [A song of ascents, I call to You from the depths – Psalm 130], the walls would tremble. Reb Pinchas the Cantor, Reb Matisyahu the Shochet, and Binyaminke Tshalenchuk would start singing as the skies were turning dark. Those gathered clapped their hands and danced in a circle, forgetting that it was already night and they had to recite the Maariv service.

When the Rebbe would come for the Sabbath, Hasidim would come from the nearby towns. Each time, the Rebbe would bring a new, lovely melody.

For the entire week, one already felt that the Rebbe was coming for the Sabbath. A special wagon driver with the Hasidim would transport the Rebbe from the train to Zalman Cheifetz' house.

Later the Rebbe was driven to the shtibel for services. Hundreds of Hasidim would surround the Rebbe. Sheika Shechtman was on one side, and Matisyahu the Shochet on the other side.

Before the Rebbe came, Sheika Shechtman, Aber Reznik, Pinchas Pinchasovich, and other Hasidim prepared large pans of fish and pots of meat with kugels for the Sabbath, so that the visiting Hasidim would have what to eat.

When the congregation finished services, they gathered around the table. They drank

[Column 436]

Lechayim. Young and old, poor and wealthy, abandoned restraint, and sang, danced, and clapped their hands with great enthusiasm. They forgot all weekday matters and immersed themselves in spirituality.

The Hasidim took the Rebbe to visit the rabbi, Rabbi Yitzchak Berkowitz of blessed memory, who was not a Hasid. The Rebbe would receive his followers. Wealthy Hasidim would leave a pidyon [monetary offering] for the Rebbe, each according to their standing and means. People would say that the Rebbe never looked how much one was giving. He distributed the money to the needy. When someone turned to him for help, he would put his hands in his pocket and take out a bundle of money, and give it over without counting it.

That is how our Jews lived and expressed themselves with their traditions and way of life.

The Kalte Shul, which stood for hundreds of years, was built in old architectural style with a dome. The Beis Midrash was on one side, and the Hasidic Shtibel on the other side. The bathhouse and Talmud Torah stood in the middle of the courtyard.

Like a landmark, the Kalte Shul stood taller than all the Beis Midrashes. Inside there was fine craftsmanship, with painted figures of the shor habar [the mythic wild ox of the messianic banquet] and leviathan, and other figures.

The holy ark was carved by a woodcarver named Shlomo the son of Yoel Zusman from Novhorodok. He worked at the carving for three years. He was hosted for meals in rotation, because he did not take any money for the work. He only asked that he should be honored by having his name inscribed on the holy ark.

Reb Shlomo was a pious Jew. When he concluded the work, he went to a second city to carve a holy ark. The most beautiful was the carving of the

[Column 437]

tribes, each with its symbol. When they would open the door of the holy ark, hands of priests would automatically appear blessing the crowd. Two lions stood guard atop the holy ark.

Tourists interested in the old-world atmosphere would come to the town and visit the Kalte Shul.

It [the Kalte Shul] was the beauty of the town with which the Jews of Lakhva took pride.

The gabbaim of the shul were called “the permanent gabbaim” because it was impossible to dismiss them. The gabbaim were: Reb Elchanan Chlez – a lumber merchant, a prominent householder whom the entire town dealt with and honored, a communal functionary in many societies; Mendel the son of Reb Kopel Moravchik, a toiling Jew whose livelihood used to be from going to Pinsk with his trading pack to purchase merchandise for the shopkeepers. He had a bakery in the latter years.

[Another was] Leibe Lichtenstein (the Liubaner), his trade was smithing. He was as tall as a cathedral dome, with a fine beard. During services, Leibe would not sit down, but rather stand on his feet the entire time, even throughout the entire day of Yom Kippur.

A misfortune suddenly came upon our town. A terrible storm wind raged one dark night, and a fire broke out that overtook all the Jewish alleyways with the entire [town] center, including the Beis Midrash and the Kalter Shul. The Jews were certain that the holy shul would not burn, because the shul had stood for hundreds of years. Tens of fires had taken place, but the shul had not been burnt.

Being so certain, nobody went to save the tens of [Torah] scrolls, and many other holy items. All went up in smoke.

After the fire, the gabbaim convened a

[Column 438]

gathering, and decided to gird themselves and begin to rebuild the shul.

First, they fenced in the place and set up benches, installed a holy ark, and began to conduct services under the open sky with enthusiasm and fervor.

When the cornerstone was laid, our brethren in America did not forget to send money and also encouraging, comforting words that we should build the shul and they will help.

With great effort, brick by brick, the walls were ready according to the old architecture with domes on top, almost like the old synagogue.

The three gabbaim did not step back the entire time until they lived to see the roof over the shul. The shul was built with great effort, but it was actually not completed. Our dear Jews were not destined to complete the shul. They were destroyed together with the holy shul.

Life in Lakhva did not come lightly. People toiled for a livelihood and earned to live.

Life was quiet and monotonous throughout the entire summer. Idlers sat on the supports or benches in the market, dreaming or discussing politics.

It became lively in town when the Days of Awe approached. First, people began to whitewash the houses. The tables and the benches were tossed out onto the street, and sanded down until they gleamed. The women ran about in a sweat, for they had to prepare for the holy festival.

Just as the women had to concern themselves that the festival table should not be embarrassing, the gabbaim had their work: they had to

[Column 439]

clean and spruce up the synagogues, concerning themselves that everything would be in good order.

It was a difficult task to hire a prayer leader, especially for the Kalter Shul.

The rabbi led the services on the festival, one day in the Beis Midrash and the second day in the shul. He would deliver a fiery sermon prior to the shofar blowing, and the common folk and women would shed tears.

Everyone, including children, came for the shofar blowing. The girls would be dressed up in the finest clothing that they had. They huddled up to their mothers or a relative, and recited Lamenatzeach [Psalm 20, recited seven times before the shofar blowing].

On the days of Selichos, the Shamash would wake people up in the middle of the night with a voice of supplication and a plaintive tune, “Arise, Jews, for Selichos!”

On Rosh Hashanah, the community would go to the river for Tashlich, each synagogue with its group of worshippers. They would shake out their pockets and free themselves from sins. They would return happy, singing and dancing. They would gather in the Kalter Shul, and the gabbai would distribute apples and wish everyone a good year.

Throughout the week, the women of the town and the region would go to visit ancestral graves. For Zlatke the women's prayer leader, it was high season. She would recite the petition for the women, as well as the Kel Maleh Rachamim [prayer for the deceased]. If one of the women did not weep, Zlatke would weep for her. She waited for that day all year.

The men also did not rest. The older ones repented. They would go to the synagogue at night to recite Selichos or Psalms. In the morning after services, they ran to the holy place [the cemetery] to visit the ancestral graves and supplicate for a good year. When they returned, there was a table at the ritual purification room, and the gabbaim would distribute honey cake and liquor for a Lechayim. They distributed charity with an open hand, and anyone who held a grievance would ask for forgiveness.

After Yom Kippur, people began to

[Column 440]

prepare the sukkahs. They would cut three walls from boards, and cover them with pine branches. The children would spread out yellow sand and greenery.

On Chol Hamoed [the intermediate days] there was a custom that boys would come to meet girls. Matches would be agreed upon, and the town was joyous.

However, the pinnacle of ecstasy came on the evening of Simchas Torah. The Zionist community would organize a minyan and conduct services themselves. During the final years, the minyan was in the home of Zalman Cheifetz. The Zionist crowd enjoyed themselves around set tables. Reb Yitzchak Boktzin was a fine prayer leader and Torah reader.

The children, dressed up in their festive clothes, carrying flags and candle, would go to the rabbi's house and wait to lead him to the synagogue. It was joyous in the rabbi's house. People would drink Lechayim. Reb Lipa Moravchik (Chisha's) would tell jokes and compose rhymes, and Mottel Chana-Eidel's Waskavoynik would dance on the table.

They would lead the rabbi to shul with singing and dancing. He went in the middle. The householders went on the side, and held hands. Reb Matisyahu the Shochet enchanted the crowd with his refined, urbane bearing and dancing.

That is how Lakhva celebrated the festivals, like hundreds of other Jewish towns in Poland and Lithuania.

Until the First World War, the tradespeople of Lakhva were occupied with various trades. There were shoemakers, tailors, smiths, builders, carpenters, and other tradespeople.

Weaving baskets (called by us korzinkes) was a specific trade, and many houses were occupied with that work. Customers were in Russia and

[Column 441]

Ukraine. The baskets were shipped from Lakhva via the river steamer that went from Pinsk via the Pripyat and Dnieper to Kyiv, Kremenchug, Yekaterinoslav, and other cities. The merchandise had a good turnover, and the Jews of Lakhva earned money.

There was a time when the youth of Lakhva could not find employment at home, so they would travel to seek throughout the vast Russian empire: to Kremenchug, Kyiv, and Odessa. They did not earn poorly, and played an active role in the political life of that time.

Lubachiner Street in the winter

The builders and smiths played an important role among the tradespeople of Lakhva. The smiths would take their wagons to the fairs, and the peasants would purchase the wagons.

The builders obtained work in

[Column 442]

the surrounding area, and it would happen that they would be working outside the city for entire months.

There was a case in the village of Sinkievich where they had to build a monastery [kloister]. The priest hired the Jewish builders to build the monastery, not considering that his faithful were against this and prevented them from doing their work for a long time.

The priest demonstrated, however, that there were no better builders, and the Jews built the monastery.

The rest of the tradespeople lived a life of poverty. They worked from early morning to late at night, toiling an entire week; and one had to spend a few zlotys at the grocer for the Sabbath.

Not all were among the fortunate ones who were able to earn their livelihoods. Those who had children or brothers in America, who would send help from time to time, or would send a few dollars for the festival, lived better.

There were small-scale businesspeople who lived a life of poverty. They would drag themselves around the surrounding villages and hamlets throughout the week, seeking

[Column 443]

something to earn. Cattle businessmen and butchers were not in a bad place. These included Binyamin Zalmanovitch, the Ashmans, Wadia Schwarin, and Schnidman. The prominent merchants included Yehuda Katz HaKohen, and Pinia Wolf Schwarin.

There were Jews who engaged in the fishing industry. They would rent boats for a certain time, or a season, and catch fish. Some engaged in the fishing industry for an entire year, such as: Shlomo Mordechai Moravchik and his son, Leibush and Zelik Moravchik, Getzel Pinchasovich, Leizer and Yisrael Schwarin, and the Moravnik family. They did not have great fortune, but they were in a better situation.

The fish would be shipped to Warsaw. If the Warsaw market was overflowing with fish, they would not earn, and furthermore, would have to pay the railway fare. However, the Lakhva Jews were happy with their lot, with what they had. They did not have any great aspirations.

Great changes took place in the year 1921, after the wars and revolutions, in which the town endured from [as it changed from] hand to hand.

Finally, the Poles reinforced themselves not far from Lakhva, and the border was established at the Sluch River. It became calmer, and steps were taken toward stabilization. There was a great revival in business and in crafts. Our large forests began to be exploited. The peasants in the region were earning money, and of course they had to purchase everything in the city: manufactured items from the shopkeepers, boots from the shoemaker, and clothing from the tailor.

The town went through a revival. Economic life improved.

A large source of livelihood came to the shopkeepers and craftsmen in 1924: the corps that guarded the border. Many Jews earned

[Column 444]

income from working, subcontracting, and providing food to the corps.

That situation continued until 1938. At that time, difficulties arose in handing jobs off on subcontract, so the Jews could only get work through Christian [intermediaries].

The handworkers' union played an educational and significant role in Lakhva. It was founded in 1929 by the members Eliezer Ribin, Eliezer Portnoy, Yaakov Yisrael Chlez, David Moravchik, Todres Muzikant, and Mordechai Zamoski. They were the founders and leaders of the union in Lakhva for the entire period.

Until its founding, the tradespeople and small businesspeople of Lakhva did not know of any societal life. They participated in various elections along with all the Jews, but they never took part with their own, independent list.

Only after its founding did they go for the first time to elections for various institutions with their own list. It was not difficult to explain to the Jews the importance of the union, and that they must vote for the list that the handworkers' union was submitting.

It was a revolution for Jews, who for generations lived in Chumash or Psalms [study] groups, to vote for a list that was considered not so kosher.

The majority of the tradespeople and small-scale businesspeople from Lakhva had Zionist leanings, and played an active role in the elections for the Zionist congress. Almost all of the Lakhva tradespeople belonged to the League for the Working Land of Israel.

The Lakhva handworkers' union played an especially important role when the decree was issued by the regime that all the handworkers,

[Column 445]

butchers, and bakers who direct independent workshops must take an examination on their professional knowledge in order to receive a handworker certificate, and must know how to read and write in the Polish language. The decree led to a commotion among the Jewish handworkers and their activists, especially in the vocational crafts, since our older tradespeople for the most part did not know any Polish. It was a difficult struggle for our handworkers' central committee as well as for the Jewish representatives in the Sejm [Polish parliament]. After prolonged efforts in the fight against the law, which would have taken away the source of livelihood for Jewish tradespeople, the result was that the older ones had to take an examination as a formality, and then would receive a handworker certificate. The young ones who wanted to open new workshops had to pass all the requirements, know the trade well, as well as be proficient in the Polish language.

The union committee intervened

[Column 446]

so that the exams would be taken locally, so that the older tradespeople would not have to travel in circles.

Thanks to that, the examination commission came to Lakhva, and, over a schnapps with Jewish fish, issued handworker certificates to all the Jewish tradespeople and butchers.

In the final years of Polish rule, the vocational crafts were subjected to severe harassment: Jewish craftsmen and small shopkeepers were burdened with taxes, official protocols, and fines.

The handworkers' organization defended the handworkers of Lakhva with dignity and pride. The union was active in all economic and societal institutions, as the constant representatives to the People's Bank. The parnas [administrator] of the communal organization was the member Eliezer Ribin, a man with ideal character, always prepared to help and give of his energy and time for Lakhver societal work.

  Lakhva, Belarus     Yizkor Book Project     JewishGen Home Page

Copyright © 1999-2026 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 19 Feb 2026 by JH