« Previous Page Table of Contents Next Page »

[Page 287]

Once There Was a Shtetl

Mordkhai Zaytshik

Translation by Paula F. Parsky

Once there was a shtetl Lenin, a shtetl like all other little shtetlekh in the former Poland. This shtetl was located on the right bank of the river Slutsk[1] which runs into the river Pripets. Since the year 1939, Lenin belonged to Poland. The shtetl, which existed for about 300 years (according to the inscriptions on the oldest gravestones and according to the pinkes [record book] of the Khevre Kadishe [ritual burial society] and other similar sources), was always called Lenin.

It was a great wonder that-the Polish powers tolerated the name of the shtetl for so long and did not change it immediately in the first days of Poland's liberation. Only in 1939, 6 weeks before the Red Army marched into Western Byelorussia and into Western Ukraine, the Polish goverment remembered and changed the name from Lenin to Sosnkovice. But the inhabitants could not get used to the new name and very soon, as soon as the Red Army entered, again called the shtetl by its old name, Lenin.

By and large, Lenin was a very beautiful, clean and happy shtetl. After the end of the schools there, many young people continued their studies in Pinsk or in Vilne. The Jewish youth was 'enlightened' and intelligent. The shtetl possessed a beautiful public assemply place [folkshoyz], library, electric station, mill, etc. Everything existed until… the German animals in human form entered Lenin. Everything was quickly extinguished, and the destruction of the shtetl began.

In the beginning the Germans drove all the Jews, men and women, to different kinds of labor every day. Often, therefore, they were beaten without justification. The Jews were sent out ahead to repair the roads, so that if a mine lay somewhere, it would blow up on a Jew…

The first victim in Lenin was Nachum Aleynik, who was shot in the neck by an S. S. man as he lay sick in bed. He was shot because he did not give the officer vodka and tobacco quickly enough…

That same evening this same bandit and another of his friends, commanded 8 Jewish youth to be brought into the courtyard of the “Gymne” [gymnasium-a high level high school] and there shot every one of them. One of the young men, Isaac Brodatski, fled, but they pursued him, and seeing that they would very soon capture him, he jumped from the bridge in to the deep lake and never surfaced again. He chose death in the water rather than falling into their murderous hands alive.

After a brief time every day the murderers ransacked and searched, sure that he had surfaced somewhere and was in hiding.

In a matter of days, the murderers had killed another 15 people. Among them, the Gorodetski family of five, who were killed because of the betrayal of the Burgermeister's [mayor's] wife, a Gentile who had quarreled with the young wife Khaye Gorodetski over a petty thing. Khaye shouted at her, “Don't think your power has come!” And that was enough. That same evening she and her mother were led to “the little mountain” outside the shtetl and on the way, in the street, both were shot in the neck. They lay there in the street for an entire day. Her brother and two small sons (twins) were shot in their homes and the twins were then thrown outside. The next morning, nothing more that remained of them but their heads, gnawed by pigs.

Len288.jpg - Chaya Gorodetzky and her husband, with their twins
Chaya Gorodetzky and her husband, with their twins, Asher’ka and Yudela

In a short time, the 10th of May, 1942, they made a ghetto in Lenin, and drove all the Jews from the shtetl into one street, fenced in on all sides. Each house held between 20-30 people. Going out was forbidden, except with special work permits. The situation worsened daily, though in truth, it must be written that some members of the Gentile population helped greatly and by various means made efforts to smuggle bread, flour, milk, potatoes, etc. in to the ghetto. Yet there was not a day when all sorts of things were not confiscated from the Jewish population: once shoes, another time, clothing, laundry, watches, sugar, cocoa, soap, perfume, musical instruments, etc., etc.

Misery and fear of the unknown future were in everyone's face. Very often we used to speak among ourseles to strengthen each other, saying that this government would not last long, and ultimately, they would suffer a defeat, regardless of the temporary entry of the Red Army. We had no contact with the neighboring shtetlakh, but we knew that ghettos existed everywhere.

One evening all the Jews of the ghetto were rounded up and those able to work were selected. In the morning of the 22nd of May, 1942, they were sent by train to a work camp in Hantsevitsh (near Baranovitsh). There were already 120 Jews from the shtetl Pagost (near Pinsk) there; altogether, including us, there were 350 men between the ages of 14 and 60 years old. Fathers and sons were there, and often some sets of brothers. We were quartered in a far corner of the shtetl in a small dirty alleyway, in some little houses, 30-40 men in a house, sleeping on 3-tiered bunks. In such close quarters we had to be concerned about sanitation. In a sanitary inspection, if a louse was found, the “infested one” could be shot. Also for becoming sick or getting mange (or scabies), etc., – a bullet. Therefore, though we had to work hard, nobody dared to fall ill. We got 200 grams of bread a day and 20 grams of barley-that was all.

Groups of people immediately began to think about running away. But to where and with what? We had very dark news about locating partisans anywhere,. We were guarded at work during the day; at night, we were watched-by the police. Very often there would be a sudden inspection to verify that we were all in our places. If a person were missing, it was said, that the entire camp would be shot.

Every day, the decision to escape became stronger. But we had to arrange it that everyone would run at the same time, not individually. If we had organized merely the pile of people who were all the while chomping at the bit to escape, all those who remained in the camp and those remaining in our shtetl Lenin would have been murdered.

One evening in late summer, all as one, we abandoned everything, and without even a bit of bread, began to run in the direction of the woods, about 2 kilometers from the city. This happened so spontaneously and unexpectedly that by the time the Germans and the police realized it, we had already overcome all the obstacles on the way, like deep ditches of water, barbed wire fences, etc. and were entering the woods.

It had become very dark. The whole group got scattered and lost. Not knowing well enough where to run, we divided up into groups and spread out in different directions. In my group were 23 men. The shooting around us seemed to be growing closer in every direction, but thanks to the deep woods and our own carefulness, we succeeded in part to break through, and in a while many of us reached various partisan camps that took 3 or 4 of us in. A great many of us were killed along the way; some by the bullets of the Germans and the police; some were captured and brought back and hanged. Among those hanged were the five Gelanson brothers, two fathers and their sons, and others; all together 20 men. In total, those of us who remained alive joined partisan groups, perhaps 80-90 men of 230 who fled. I personally wandered around for eight weeks until I was taken in by partisans. Almost the entire time I ate only berries and raw mushrooms.

At that time, a punishment force of S. S. men arrived in Lenin, and with the police of Lenin and the surrounding villages, they cruelly slaughtered the entire Jewish population, leaving only 28 “specialists,” who a month later, joined the partisans who had entered Lenin. All the remaining people, over 900 souls, were surrounded on all sides by the Germans and led in cars in groups to the “little mountain” outside the shtetl. On the way, the young women sang songs and shouted “Down with the bandits! Long live the Red Army which will avenge our young blood!”

Tanis the pharmacist and his wife poisoned themselves on the way in the car. Someone jumped in the lake. Near the little mountain everyone removed their clothes and was shot by automatic weapons and thrown, most still alive, in mass graves, bodies laid on top of each other. The blood of the elderly mixed with the blood of women and small children. In one hour's time, everything was finished. Lenin was judenrein.

In a few days, three young women who had hidden themselves were found by the local police and shot. One woman who was found and locked up overnight hanged herself there.

No better fate befell the remaining Gentile population of the shtetl. A few months later the 800 people were driven into a foundry which was set afire, and they were burned alive. After setting fire to the entire shtetl, the Germans and the police of the area left for Mikashevitsh, where they remained until the arrival of the Red Army.

Not one house remained in Lenin; the streets became overgrown by tall, wild grasses; it was simply difficult even to recognize whose home once stood in which place. Only by the hills of bricks and charred remains of trees could you stumble upon it.

This is the tragic summary of the three year reign of the Nazi murderers in Lenin. It is a bit of consolation that a small number of the German murderers were paid back in kind, and that among those who took vengeance upon the barbarians were many young people from Lenin, either as partisans or as solders of the Red and Polish armies.

Many of our youth sacrificed their lives to exterminate the Nazi pest.

[1] NB: The names of places in this document have been transliterated from Yiddish; I have not researched their Polish language equivalents. Return

[Page 291]

Types and Customs

Mordkhai Zaytshik

Translation by Paula F. Parsky

With a bit of pride, it can be recalled that, in contrast to many of the nearby shtetlekh, even the artisans of Lenin were not ignorant. Many of the wagon drivers and artisans liked to embellish their words with the sayings of the Sages and Biblical passages and ruminate over a chapter of Isaiah. They were also well acquainted, some of them even versed in the Talmud.


Yisroel the Blacksmith

Yisroel Gelanson, or Yisroel the Blacksmith, as he was called, worked all his life at his forge. But always in his free hours after work he would sit with his Gemorrah and actually understood what he studied.


Baynish the Shoemaker

Baynish the shoemaker, a quiet, tall Jew, who walked erect with a cane, his hands on his back, would sit more often in shul with a page of Gemorrah than he would sit at work. And he could study.


Khayim Khaykl

Khayim Khaykl, a simple but very pious Jew, worked hard, always dragging a “Utshinke” or a skin of a calf with his big, heavy boots covered in mud… But Shabbos! He threw off all his dirt and cares!

The entire day he would enjoy himself in shul at the pulpit, saying Psalms, the congregation after him-that was his “franchise”… he was more gifted than anyone else in Psalms. It ran through him like a psalm.


Wagon Drivers

Even traveling with the wagon drivers in the long, always muddy ditches to the station in Mikashevitsh, you were not bored, because of the various sayings, passages, legends and stories that you would hear from them the entire time.

They would even speak to their horses with a special “Hebrew” [Holy language] lexicon taken from Tevye the Milkman.

Len292.jpg - Betzalel Zaytchik and his sons, Binyamin and Yehuda and a grandson
Betzalel Zaytchik and his sons, Binyamin and Yehuda and a grandson


Betzalel “the Greek”

Here I will recall a very special type of the years gone by, that was Betzalel Zaytshik, or Betzalel 'the Greek,” as he was called.

They called him “the Greek” because he was one of the cantonists of the time of Nikolai the First when young boys would be seized and sent away to study in the military, where they had to serve for an entire 25 years…

Betzalel was one of those, who, as an eleven year old boy, was captured and loyally served the entire 25 years.

Although he had spent so many years among the Gentiles, he used to say he almost never profaned the Sabbath and also did not eat “treyf.”

Physically, he was well-developed-- in gait and appearance, a true military man. He rose to the rank of sergeant-major, in those days, a great accomplishment.

Specific Russian curses which he would use when he became angry remained with him.

He lived a very long time, and until the end, was healthy and in full control of his faculties.

In the year 1928, during the visit of Polish General Skladkovski to Lenin, among other delegates, Betzalel Zaytshik presented himself, asking the General to recognize his right to a pension, which he deserved, in his opinion, because of his long years of service to the Russian Czar. Besides, he bragged of his distinguished service-- among other things, in his participation in the suppression of the famous Polish uprising of 1863. The General, hearing these words, angrily replied, “What?! You fought against us and want us to be grateful for you and grant you a pension for this?!” Of course, he received none.


“Snagging” a Cow

In his old age, people would go to him to snag a cow (it was called that because he was an expert in this), this means, when a cow didn't return from the fields with the herd and wandered off somewhere. In such circumstances the owner of the cow would come to Betzalel “the Greek,” to have him “snag” it. That meant that the cow would remain in one place, where it had strayed and not go off to another place. This made it easier to find the cow and bring it back home.

He did not do this willingly, complaining that he couldn't do it, that he was mere flesh and blood. But he would nevertheless let himself be convinced to “snag” the cow.

People would also go to him to undo an “evil eye.”

He died at the age of 94 in 1933.

[Page 294]

My Mother

Sarah Fogelman

Translation by Paula F. Parsky

In a street of our shtetl that was inhabited mainly by Gentiles and only a few Jews, lived a Jewish family with a lot of small children. The father of the family, a weak man, was not able to fully care for his children. And the household often went hungry and never had enough to eat. The father would go away on Sunday for the entire week to the neighboring villages to earn his living. The daily burden and care of the entire family fell chiefly to the mother, a small, exhausted woman, her hands always busy with work and her head always full of worries about how to get a bit of food for her children. In addition, there was also an old father, who together with the entire family, ten souls all together, lived-in the same little one room house.

From time to time the family, like other families who lived in difficult social conditions, were helped for the Sabbath with various products, like Shabbos candles, challah, etc., as was the custom in the little shtetlekh. But, given the poverty of the family, this support was like a drop of water in the sea.

Nevertheless, the cleanliness and order of the little house was something to marvel at. Right at the door, you could see the yellow sand that had been scattered so that no one would track inside the mud for which our shtetl, located in the middle of several swamps, was noted. Opening the door, you always would encounter the mother, her hands occupied with washing, darning, dusting or preparing food-a few spoiling potatoes and barley. That was generally their lunch.

Because there were children of my age to play with, I was a frequent guest in that house. I would observe how the little children would sit around the table and wait impatiently until the mother cut off a bit of the black, rounded bread for each outstretched hand. Many times, a child would not be content with his portion, and would complain that his brother's piece was a little bigger, until the mother would shout for quiet, and with a sigh, burst into tears, quietly resume her work. I remember that in my house, we didn't lack for food, and yet suddenly, such an appetite would come upon me that it seemed to me that if the woman had offered me such a bit of bread, I would have eaten it gladly!

On Friday evenings, the children would look out into the distance for their guest-their father-with great happiness. Seeing him approaching, they would run to meet him and help him carry his sack that he carried on his shoulders, with the bit of products he earned for his week's work. Often his wife would pour the pain and bitterness of the entire week onto the head of her husband. And yet she didn't complain too terribly about her fate and hoped patiently that when the children would grow up, they would lighten their heavy burden.

And so it happened. In time, the two older sons each taught themselves a trade, and in that same room which served as the lodging for the entire family, there was also a place for their workshops. It is hard to imagine, but even this did not disrupt the cleanliness of this living space, with the two beds, always--made up with white sheets, taut pillows, and brightly embroidered covers which remained from her girlhood. The two only beds near the oven served the entire family. Each night before going to sleep the mother did not forget to change the pretty covers of the pillows to simple ones, to preserve the decorated ones. She knew that she would not be able to buy new pretty pillowcases very easily.

So this family lived, like many other families, unpretentiously, in poverty, suffering, hope and faith. They raised a generation of quiet, honest children, artisans who later lived, worked, and earned a living for themselves and their families. This continued until the Holocaust that made an end to everything and everyone, and equalizing everyone in one mass grave: no more cares, no more worries, no more earnings, no more life; one mass grave for everyone, for the hungry and for the well-fed, for the contented, for the suffering.

The filthy Nazi hands destroyed everything and left only a mass grave to commemorate our little shtetl Lenin.

[Page 295]

Berele the Bookseller [Mokher Sefarim]

Yitzhak Slutzki

Translation by Yocheved Klausner

Berele the Bookseller came to our shtetl when I was still a young boy. It was said that he came to town from “somewhere” and remained. He had no family, lived alone and was in general a great mystery. He never said a word about himself and told us nothing.

There was a rumor, that he came from Vilna, that he had committed a terrible sin,

[Page 296]

and, to atone for his sin he was ordered by the rabbis to go on exile and to wander all his life, rejected by his home and family. Our shtetl has been his place of exile.

I never knew how much of this was true. As you can see by his name, he sold books. His books were: a prayer book, a collection of sayings and commentaries, a book of prayers for women, a booklet of the blessing after meals, mezuzahs, tzitzit, a Book of Psalms, a novel, Hershele Ostropoler's stories, a Chabad booklet and the like. He held all this under lock and key in the synagogue, where he kept several boxes. From this book–trade, however, he could not support himself, even though he lived alone, so he became assistant to the beadle in the new synagogue. He worked also as a water–carrier: the poor man would carry two buckets full of water from the river, hanging from a wooden bar on his shoulders, for the people in town.

In addition to all that, he became a watchman. As you know, in our town we had night–watchmen, who would take turns to walk through the town during the night, to watch for fires or thieves. When someone was too lazy to go, or couldn't do his turn for other reasons, he would engage Berele the bookseller who, for three Kopeks would walk at night around town with a large “clapper” to let know the thieves that he was there…

There were rumors in town, that Berele had saved money, since he worked day and night, slept in the synagogue and ate almost nothing. Some day his exile punishment would end and he will return to his family with a treasure. – – – –

Chaim Grone–Yentes

Avraham Yitzhak Slutzki

Translation by Yocheved Klausner

Chaim “the crazy one,” as I remember him, was not crazy at all. He was a very handsome young man, tall, slim, with a clear face and a small, beautiful blonde beard.

He was a great learner. He would sit in the old shul and study together with Itche (Yitzhak), the son of the old rabbi. People used to call him Chaim Grone–Yentes, after the name of his wife. He had a daughter, her name was Mirl. She lives now in America.

His mental illness, as I remember, was expressed only by his long walks on the outskirts of town, alone and absorbed in thought. He was always a loner, isolated and abandoned by his family. The children in town liked him. They followed him and he told them beautiful stories, fables and legends.

[Page 297]

But not only the little children; the lumber merchants greatly enjoyed a chat with R'Chaim and loved to listen to his good jokes. As soon as he was seen, he was encircled by listeners – every one of them trying to “catch a word” with him. He always had some small change, and was never in want of a meal. However, he never stretched out his hand to ask for charity; on the contrary, it was considered an honor when R'Chaim agreed to accept a few coins or a meal. On Sabbath he was always the guest of R'Zecharia Koptzes.

Many of the lodgers in Baruch–Yankel Baruchin's guest–house were workers in the lumber business. It was told that Pessel, Baruch–Yankel's wife, asked R'Chaim to “say a good word” – and Chaim, without thinking much, said:

“I wonder about your father: I remember him as a good and righteous Jew – how come such a Jew transgressed and violated an explicit prohibition of the Torah?!”

“What prohibition did he violate?” asked Pessel.

“It says very clearly in the Ten Commandments: ‘You shall not make any Pessel’ [carved idol] – and your father has made a ‘Pessel’ ….”

Chaim was popular not only among the Jewish population. Many of the Christians knew that one can always hear from Chaim a witty saying or a clever answer. Peasants from a neighboring village once told us, that on Sunday, going to church, they met Chaim and said to him: “Chaim'ke, you ought to be killed.”

“Why?” asked Chaim.

“Because your Jews have killed our god.”

“No – said Chaim – the Lenin Jews wouldn't do such a thing. Maybe it was the Starobin Jews.” (Starobin was a neighboring village).

The lumber merchant Pinchas Kaplan liked to tell stories and anecdotes, and also liked to listen to them. One day at twilight, he sat with other merchants near the beautiful entrance of Ben–Zion Tziklig's house. Chaim passed by, deep in thought. Pinchas said to him: Chaim, tell us something, and you receive a Ruble.

Chaim stopped and said: “Well, if you answer my question, you get all my possessions” – and he took out of his pocket twenty Kopeks and said “this is all that I possess.”

“OK, ask” they said to him.

“Listen – said Chaim – I am coming now from the river. I was standing on the bridge, looking at the water. I was looking hard, and what did I see?

[Page 298]

another Chaim: exactly as you see me here in front of you – Chaim with the unbuttoned shirt, with a leather belt on his pants, just like the belt on my own pants. In one word – the same Chaim as the one in front of you. Only the other Chaim, God help me, was standing on his head – his head down and his feet up on the air. Now I am asking you: That other Chaim, who is standing with his head down, what does he need the belt on his pants for?…

Several answers were given, but not one of them was satisfactory. So Pinchas Kaplan finally asked: “Well, Chaim, you tell us, what is the answer?”

“Don't you understand – said Chaim – that if that other Chaim in the river would not have a belt on his pants, this Chaim's pants – the Chaim who is standing before you – would fall down?”

Chaim was strangely attracted to the river. He was often seen on the bank of the river, looking thoughtfully to the water, observing the little fish swimming around and saying: How good would it be, if I were also a little fish with all the other fish. I wouldn't have to suffer my terrible headaches.

Chaim was a very good swimmer. In the summer, the bathing season, he saved children from drowning, many times.

Aharon Singalowski said: in the streets of Lenin, a living encyclopedia is walking around – the crazy Chaim. He knew Talmud, Poskim [deciders in religious Law], and the entire Rabbinic literature. He knew the Jewish history – not from the history books but from reading the Rabbinic Responsa.

And this wonderful scholar, whom we all – children and adults – loved and admired, well knew that he was mentally ill. Sometimes he would talk and complain about it. In my time he was calm, but one of the elders in our community, who now lives in Israel, relates that at the beginning of his illness Chaim was very disturbed. Moshe Yakov Temkin, Yechiel's son, once saw him running wild in the streets. Moshe Yakov wanted to calm him down, but Chaim raised his strong hand and slapped him. Later, when the attack was over, Chaim went to Moshe Yakov and asked forgiveness. When the acute phase of his illness was over, he gave his wife a divorce. Since then he slept in Yechiel Temkin's home and ate his Sabbath and holiday meals at the home of Zecharia Slutzki (Koptzes), the father of Eliyahu–Aharon the slaughterer.

[Page 299]

My Parents

Henia Schusterman

Translation by Yocheved Klausner

Our dear Shtetele and our beloved home, which we have lost and were uprooted from it so soon!

My holy parents, sisters and brothers z”l, how can I diminish your pain and suffering? I shall, at least, remember your holy names with a few words.

I remember the glowing holidays, how beautifully my father recited the prayers, with his sweet voice! His handsome face, his stature and his proud walk commanded respect. I would wait for the Sabbath morning walk to shul. Early in the morning, when all were still in bed, my father would read the Tehillim [Psalms] Book or study the weekly Torah Portion. I thought that this would last forever, as would his beautiful beard (we were a very religious family).

People would come to us and say to my father: Reb Dovid! See, we must do something, our young people, even your own children, shave on Sabbath day, smoke on Sabbath – they are not Jews anymore! To you they will listen, if you talk to them! And my good and wise father would reply: We should be good Jews ourselves. As to our dear sons and daughters – of course it would be good if they were following the path of their parents. But I tell you, dear Jews, we should not sever the good relations with our dear young men and women, they are going to build Eretz Israel… we must understand them…

My father perished and soon my mother perished too, and my sisters and brothers. All have worked for the community, but did not live to see and hear what we have accomplished.

May God avenge their blood!

The Lenin Hard Workers

Menashe Yulewitz (Latocha)

Translation by Yocheved Klausner

I am certain, that many of those who deserve to be mentioned in a Yizkor Book will, for various reasons, not be included.

As a matter of fact, every person who has lived in the shtetl should be remembered, because

[Page 300]

every single one is so dear and unforgettable – all of them, old and young, all the good and honest Lenin Jews. Our merchant was not fully a merchant, not in the full sense of the word; a considerable part of his time he spent reading a book or learning a “page” of the Talmud. For many, commerce was a kind of side–occupation.

What remained unforgotten in my mind from my childhood years in Lenin were the craftsmen, the hard workers, the heavy toilers, who worked from dawn until late at night to earn the piece of bread for their families, never complained, and lived a righteous, honest Jewish life.

They were truly religious, got up at dawn for the morning prayer, ran late afternoon to the synagogue for the Mincha prayer, remained in the synagogue for some study and finished their day with the evening prayer, Maariv. This was their only free time, since afterward, coming home, they went back to work and before going to bed they never forgot to recite the Keri'at Shema.

Yet, they were not always entirely immersed in their work. Their strength of character helped them create a way of life that was filled with spiritual power as well as worldly culture. Many were talented in song, music and art, but not always did they have the means to develop their talents, which were therefore lost sometimes. Some had beautiful voices: from the tailor's, cobbler's or carpenter's workshops heartwarming pieces of Hazanut [cantor's prayers] would be heard, as well as the cantor's own compositions, especially before the High Holidays.

I remember that Gedalia Kaplan, R'Menuse's son–in–law, had a fine tenor voice; he would sing the prayers beautifully; I remember also the prayer of R'Nachum Nathan, or, as he was called by all Nushke – an honest hard–working Jew with a beautiful Jewish face. This was for him a source of joy in his hard life. His melodies are ringing in my ears to this day.

Other craftsmen excelled in Talmud study, and through the years some reached a high level of knowledge so that they could learn by themselves or even teach – like R'Beinush Kirzner the shoemaker and R'Israel Galenson the smith.

A special meaning for the workers had the Sabbath, the real Day of Rest. On this day the toiling man turned into a prince, and he welcomed the Queen of Sabbath with due respect and honor.

The craftsmen could truly savor the Sabbath, after a week of hard work. Friday night, when all was shining, the wooden floor scrubbed clean and covered with sawdust and the room filled with the fine smell of the Sabbath dishes – was for them the true holiday, as the Shechina [Divine Presence] was all around.

[Page 301]

The man comes home from shul, greets his wife with a hearty “Gut Shabes” and begins to recite the “Shalom Aleichem” Sabbath song. The wife, weary with toil, who all week baked bread for the entire family, carried wood for the stove, brought water, fed the children – and all this without help – is now feeling good and satisfied. She had spread her hands over the candles in the brass candlesticks and said a silent prayer, thanking God for everything, not complaining about her hard life, asking for just one thing for her husband and family – health and peace…

The bloody storm that erupted over hundreds of cities and towns has not spared our shtetele, and all our workers, their mothers and their lives – all perished. The human mind cannot grasp and the heart cannot bear the great disaster.

Your memory will remain with us forever.

A Guest in our Town
(The visit of Chaia Sara Lifshitz, summer 1933)

M. Jaffe

Translation by Yocheved Klausner

A feeling of well–being prevailed among the Lenin Jews. They were like one wide family, with mutual devotion and care.

When a happy event occurred in a family – when someone's daughter married or a child was born and the family celebrated his Brit [circumcision], it was a happy occasion for the entire town; everybody, old and young, took part in the festivity, feeling involved and happy together with the family.

Also when, God forbid, a sad event occurred, mourning in a home, the entire shtetl felt sad and mourned with the bereaved family.

And when a rumor spread that someone had difficulties in earning his livelihood, that a family did not have enough for the marriage of their daughter or that a family had a sick person at home and couldn't afford to call the doctor – many were immediately prepared to help. Quietly, almost secretly, the needed money was collected. Not one refused to contribute something, naturally according to their means – the Lenin Jews were never very rich people.

There were times in the shtetl, when some of the Jews – individuals or entire families – began imitating the people of neighboring villages or shtetlach and wandered out of the old home to

[Page 302]

far lands over the ocean, some to rich America, some to Argentina, in later years to Eretz Israel as well. Difficult, very difficult was the separation from their beloved and warm home, from the dear Jewish Shtetele where all the dear and beloved Jews grew up together, were happy together and mourned together. All of them missed very much their abandoned shtetele. Those who left as well as those who remained felt the longing.

During many long years and to this day a permanent correspondence is maintained between the Lenin Jews. Will you ever find a Lenin Jew, wherever he might live, who wouldn't have a relative “abroad?” But who needs a blood relative? Every Jew, if he comes from Lenin, is considered one's own, just like a member of the family. All Leniner are keeping in close contact, correspond with each other, share happy – and sad – events and try, as much as they can, to help each other when needed.

* * *

Can one imagine the joy and delight of all Jews in town when, after a long separation of 25 years a visitor came from America – one of our own, a former Leniner? Such was the feeling when Chaia Sarah Lifshitz, the daughter of Avraham Schusterman from Anantchitz, came in 1933 from America on a visit. She made that long trip to take part in the happy occasion of the marriage of her niece Bashe (Ashman), the daughter of her sister Gitl Gurewitz. It was a great joy all around. The impressions of those happy days are to this day engraved in the memory of many Leniner.

Chaia Sarah is still living in Brooklyn, and is well–known as a devoted communal worker. In her younger days, she was the living spirit and the most outspoken member of the American committee of the Lenin Landsleit. During her visit in Lenin she acted the same way: she gave the many gifts she had brought with her, and she didn't rest before she organized a Women's Relief Committee (see photo on page 303), whose stated aim was to help the needy in town.

Not always does God shed His Grace on the good and righteous people; sometimes they are the ones who are painfully punished. After her return from Lenin, Chaia Sarah became ill and her right leg and left hand became paralyzed and she suffers great pain to this day.

[Page 303]

Len303.jpg - This picture shows a gathering of the Lenin Women's Relief Committee with its organizer, Chaya Sarah Lifshitz (holding flowers)
This picture shows a gathering of the Lenin Women's Relief Committee with its organizer, Chaya Sarah Lifshitz (holding flowers)
Top row, standing (from right to left): Rochel Shusterman (perished), Zisha Epstein (lives in America), Freidka Vagshal, Sarah Henya Levin (perished), Basha Ashman (lives in Tel Aviv), Henya Latukha (lives in Tel Aviv), Yentl Starobinsky (perished), Esther Slutzky (lives in Tel Aviv), Chana Tzikling (lives in Tel Aviv),Risha Yehoshuas (perished).
Middle row, seated (from right to left): Chana Kravitz (lives in Tel Aviv), Golda Mandelbaum (died), Chasha Riva Zewin (perished), Ethel Bressler (perished), Rochel Milstein – The Rebbitzen (perished), Chaya Sarah Lifshitz – the guest (lives in America), Gitel Gurevitch (perished), Necha Zaretzky (perished), Chaya Leah Chinitz – the wife of the Cantor (perished), Raizel Lazevnik (perished).
Bottom row, seated (from right to left): Breindl Migdalovitch, Sarah Rubenstein (lives in Israel), Faigel Shmelkin (died in Russia), Yehudit Kolpenitzky (lives in Tel Aviv)

[Page 304]

Len304.jpg - Jews of Lenin bid farewell to Chaya Sarah Lifshitz upon her return to America
Jews of Lenin bid farewell to Chaya Sarah Lifshitz upon her return to America


« Previous Page Table of Contents Next Page »

This material is made available by JewishGen, Inc. and the Yizkor Book Project for the purpose of
fulfilling our mission of disseminating information about the Holocaust and destroyed Jewish communities.
This material may not be copied, sold or bartered without JewishGen, Inc.'s permission. Rights may be reserved by the copyright holder.

JewishGen, Inc. makes no representations regarding the accuracy of the translation. The reader may wish to refer to the original material for verification.
JewishGen is not responsible for inaccuracies or omissions in the original work and cannot rewrite or edit the text to correct inaccuracies and/or omissions.
Our mission is to produce a translation of the original work and we cannot verify the accuracy of statements or alter facts cited.

  Lenin, Belarus     Yizkor Book Project     JewishGen Home Page

Yizkor Book Director, Lance Ackerfeld
This web page created by Mike Kalt and Osnat Ramaty

Copyright © 1999-2024 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 4 Aug 2017 by MGH