Tag Archives: anti-Semitism in Belarus

Hi Khosidl and 7.40 goodbye! (part 2)

or

Where the  ̶D̶r̶e̶a̶m̶  Popularization Can Lead.

(By Nata Holava, Part 2)

 The first part of this longread began with a recent example of “traditional small-town dances of Belarusian Jews”, which, as noted in the article, “were obsessively danced for several hours” by about fifty Gomel dwellers.

I have already found fault with the “Jewishness” of those dances and, to be honest, the whole first quote is nonsense. But the number of people interested in the topic is honorable. They are not afraid to dance it.

I remember very well how two years ago at the end of the party in the Upper Town in Minsk the same musicians, when almost all the dancers left, modestly striked up the Hora Jewish dance (at that time, the only one that succeeded to be promoted into the traditional dance community after the Barysaw party “On a Jewish note”). My partner and I began to dance, and some other dancers joined us in a chain. And then madam Minsk musician, who has learned this very Hora herself, suddenly roared: “Barysaw Jews, take your Jewish dances back to Barysaw and dance them there! Guys, play your own dances! Why are you playing these!” Then she said something about the fact that not all the Jews have been burned in furnaces. And no one was able to say anything. We finished the dance, I thanked this lady for the enchanting demonstration of mind and talent, and we “dumped” Minsk and got back to Barysaw.

We dance the Bulgar in the Upper Town during one of the Belarusian dances, nobody shouts at us, 2019. Photo by N. Batilova.

I wouldn’t remember this incident, since a long time ago we discussed everything with that lady, and everyone forgave everyone. If that situation did not concern our topic directly.

I already recalled the pantomime that happens when someone tries to dance “like a Jew”. I believe you know these movements, and your elbows have already bent, fingers reached out for your waistcoat, and the knees began to spring a little bit. You can also go all together to the center of the circle and lift your hands with your palms up, and then go back and lower them. We know, we have danced it too. And even if, at that moment, the accordionist tears the bellows, playing not the done to death “Seven-forty” freilakhs, but an interesting, incendiary freilakhs (in Belarus it was called a redl). Even if it is not an accordionist, but a violinist, and, according to your and his passports, you are both the “genuine” Jews, it will still not be a Yiddish dance. (Yiddish Dance is probably the most accurate name that I picked up in Weimar.)

Two chic ladies from our Club dance the Couple Bulgar we brought from Weimar. 2019, party near Barysaw, photo by V. Tsvirko.

The Yiddish dance is associated with the speech gesture, and this makes it very different from the Slavic dance. The first thing I heard at the Khosidl workshops in Weimar is that you have to dance your perception of the world and speak up with your body.

You can recognize a Jew by expressive gestures. And dance is a continuation of the conversation. It is impossible to peep and repeat the unique gesture, which is the most important element of this dance, for twenty minutes at the “fair” master class in the crowd, as Madam Popularization offers us. Like any other language, it needs to be learnt from childhood. Or you should look for a community and explore yourself and your gesture there. Words, seemingly, are accessible to everyone equally. But not the accent, the vocabulary, your own thoughts, your temperament and personal experience of interacting with the World. Now I am specifically talking about the mystical Khosidl, in which, as I feel it, the essence of the Yiddish dance tradition is revealed. The Khosidl is a dance of mature people. Not every musician will be able to play it now, and not every dancer will order it from a musician. Because there is a sheerly fair question: what are we going to dance about?

I will add that the Khosidl had different functions and forms, and it was a wedding dance, a “dance of dignity”. It was danced in honor of the bride and a sa matchmakers’ dance. There are references to the Khosidl as the rabbi dance at the end of the Sabbath. More details can be found in the book of my esteemed Dance Master, ethnomusicologist and researcher of the Klezmer tradition Zev Feldman (Walter Zev Feldman, “Klezmer: Music, History, and Memory”).

 

Alexey Rozov (Moscow), who plays superbly both from the stage and for dancers. Party near Barysaw, 2019, photo by V. Tsvirko.

 Of course, Yiddish Dance comprises chains like a Hora, Zhock, or Bulgar, and funny circular dances where such a deep statement and such an elegant body language are not required. But you cannot hide the manner of movement, facial expressions. And this is what betrays you and your Jewish nature.

Now imagine what it was like to dance “like a Jew” during the twentieth century, when because of this you could say goodbye to your life. Zev Feldman talked about situations where, many years after the Second World War, young people’s hands were beaten by the elderly because they gestured “in a Jewish way”. Well, so in which underground did they have to hide their identity in order to stay alive? And is it possible now to extract all this into the light of God?

And one thing is the Holocaust, the other is our Soviet reality. I felt this when I started explaining to other people about the Yiddish Dance and saw how hard it is to “let one’s body go free”. In what relationship are we with our bodies?

I was born, like most of us here, in Soviet society. In a provincial town environment, where everything was complicated with the body. Mine was forced to be dressed in a school uniform and to walk in a marching column on Soviet holidays. To watch how the bodies like mine perform something in identical costumes on the stage and call it a dance. This dance was somewhere between aerobics of various forms and a military parade. The only place where you could see a free gesture was when fellow adults danced at family feasts after having several drinks. Their movements were free and most real. But this marginal dance has never been explored, and anything like it was associatively ignored. (I do not compare the Khosidl and “drunken” dances, however, both of these phenomena mean for me going beyond the boundaries of the usual existence.) And I still haven’t touched the gender aspects of the cultural background, where a man generally prohibits himself from dancing, as an “unmanly” manifestation. (Here it should be noted that, according to Zev Feldman, male Yiddish Dance never had obvious markers of masculinity, unlike the Slavic ones – “Barynya”, “Kozachok”, “Shamil’s dance …”)

We are in our bodies like in prison. The key that opened its door for me was the Yiddish Dance. Now I’m sure that all my life I have intuitively searched in a dance for exactly this plastic existence for my body – a feeling of unconstrained freedom and dignity. And now, finally, I can afford it. It doesn’t matter whether I lead the chain of Freilekhs, Zhock or Bulgar, will it be a quadrille, or I decide to order a Khosidl (when, finally, Belarusian musicians will be able to play it).

When Aleksey Rozov played a Skochne at a party near Barysaw and invited people to dance, only three ladies dared to go out – maybe that’s what they call the “bold Jews”, 2019.

The skills gained through communicating with the coolest Weimar dance masters and musicians are not related to the “professionalism” of my choreography. On the other hand, the task of “making friends with one’s body” requires a long and thoughtful “homework”. Often associated with reflection, very gloomy thoughts and finding one’s own path. Therefore, it’s impossible to sell in a “quick-and-savory” manner such a trip to another dimension of the soul and body.

But sometimes it’s also impossible to do it slowly.

“Give me the steps and figures, I will learn them! Then I will be able to improvise and weave together my figures to your Khosidl!” – says a dancer in weekly dance classes. Unfortunately, the dance master will not give out ready-made puzzles from which you will put the picture together, they do not exist. There is only your desire to communicate something along with the music. “But I do not want to communicate anything, I want to move and look beautiful at the same time. I do not know what I should do alone!” Because we, with our Slavic identity, interpret functional dance as a priori couple dance. And there is a lot of sex in it. Besides the fact that we are afraid to express ourselves through movement and to be open, we are scared by the possibility of looking unattractive for those who can assess our body… I can’t say that there is no flirting at all in Yiddish dance (even in such a mystical and philosophical one as the Khosidl). But above all, it is the dignity.

Weimar Ball 2019, Jewish wedding. Not sure if it is a mitzvah dance (ritual dance in honor of the bride), but everyone is dancing! And this is the very Khosidl that finally returns to the Jewish community.

Further about klezmers. There can be no dancing without them. And they, too, have now become a fashionable topic. I propose to google, at least in order to begin to distinguish what is klezmer music and who is a klezmer. So far, here in Belarus, no one is. The same question again: when you call a festival (the one that was held in Minsk in the fall) a klezmer festival, do you want to say that there will be klezmers? Or is it still a concert where musicians will professionally and glamorously-perform the music that klezmers once played?

The first function of the Jewish musician was to accompany holidays and ritual moments, which often included dance. Yes, time passed, holidays and customs changed, the role of musicians also changed. The dances disappeared, festive concerts took their place, where the space is divided into a stage and a spectators seating. The visitor is no longer fully involved in the common act, and the musicians have become stage artists and “perform” in front of the public. They must not develop their ability to be in dialogue with the dancers, but performance qualities and technicality, so that the audience would be interested to sit and listen.

A certain local klezmer recently invited me to a party. “No, I said, I won’t dance to your playing.” – “Oh, what a whim. We will learn all that you will tell us to!” It will not work, I said. For years, you have played by note, for the audience, from the stage. But to understand the dancers, it would be useful to dance it yourself, delve into the meaning of these dances. Otherwise, how can you understand how to play it? No, replies our respected klezmer (who has never danced and hardly hung out at weddings next to klezmers from childhood), I do not agree.

Well what shall we do! What, what… Dance with those who can play for dancers. And communicate with musicians who are ready to get off the stage and join us.

Freilekhs. Alexey Rozov plays for dancers at a party near Barysaw after his concert solo program. Together with Zhydovachka. December 2019.

So many difficulties. There are no musicians, and the dancers are rebelling, and popularization is storming, bringing ashore nothing but “seven-forties” instead of amber… And when someone asks: “So, why do you need Yiddish dances? Are there no others?” The fact of the matter is that there are others. But I want these to be as well.

And now the promised fairy tale.

A guy came to a small town to sell plums. He stood at the market square and shouted: “I change plums for garbage! More of your garbage, more plums!”What a fool, said the housewives, and dragged to him garbage in bags, swept it out of the huts and sheds, and even borrowed it from each other. One modest girl brought a tiny bundle, because she couldn’t pick up more in her house. “Sorry,” she said, “I have no more. Can I have at least two plums?” And the guy looked at her, fell in love, put her on his cart and drove to his tower house. This is a so-so metaphor, of course, promoting patriarchal female thriftiness. But my message here is: free plums are just plums, and in order to find something valuable, it happens that you need to sort heaps of garbage.

I hope that the time of aggressive popularization will pass, because any hype seems to be from the evil one. And the eternal Khosidl in its purest form will remain with us.

 

Lake Sevan, along with the Khosidl, became my second value found last year. 2019, photo by Julia B.

Life-affirming Postscript.

For those who are interested in joining our small, so far, community of Yiddish Dance fans, I summarize my main observations:

1. Jewish and Slavic dances are very different in their essence, manner and performance, despite the similarity of forms, rhythms and melodies. Although, Jewish dances can be finely danced to some Belarusian melodies, and vice versa.

2. Traditionally, Jews did not dance couple dances like polkas and waltzes, this type does not exist in their dance practice and appears in the Jewish environment somewhere during the twentieth century, at different times – depending on the region of Eastern Europe.

3. “Together or solo, Freilekhs or Khosidl” is the main principle of performance of the Yiddish dance. Now we see three main types: collective fun dance (Freilekhs, or Redlin the Belarusian version), set dance or country-dance (Sher, Patch Tanz and others), and solo dance (Khosidl). The Freilekhs is for all people of different ages. The Sher is mainly for young people. And Khosidl can be decently danced at the age past forty or fifty… if you have something to dance about. It may seem that the Jews dance the Khosidl in couples, but no, everyone dances their own dance.

4. I do not know what is more difficult here – to maintain asynchronous movements with total harmony and expressiveness of the dance (which is the specific character of the Yiddish Dance) or to fill each gesture with meaning. I believe these are sides of the same moon and they are being improved in parallel.

5. In short, if you are dancing in a Jewish manner, this is obvious at once, and the gesture that makes it the Yiddish dance is impossible to learn by adopting (copying) the movements of the dance masters. It will turn out to be only a pantomime. Jewish body language comes with personal experience and the study of one’s own body, preferably, in a native environment.

6. To play klezmer tunes for dancers, you need to dance them yourself. Otherwise, how will you play if you don’t understand what “this song” is about? By the way, klezmer is never a song. This is a non-verbal speech, a combination of rhythm, melody and movement. And this is always improvisation.

7. You can support the workshops with Zev Feldman, which we planned with our Barysaw Historical Dance Club for the fall of 2020, here.

8. For those who are attracted by energetic circular dances with typical “Jewish movements” to the fun Jewish songs, there are Israeli dance events. This lot is learned in half an hour and brings joy to masses. And, in principle, as said in a Hasidic parable, whoever danced together, will never kill each other.

Nata Holava, Barysaw

The idea of the text arose thanks to workshops in Weimar, where we were able to get with the support of the MOST Program, research & materials by Zev Feldman © and personal conversations with him.

 

Translated from the original by Igor Shustin

Corrected by Tanya Karneika

From the site’s founder and administrator:

Do not forget about the importance of supporting the site and especially to the author of the material, Nata Holava (Anna Avota)

Published May 06/2020  15:09

Igor Kanonik. Minsk ghetto through the eyes of my father (part 3)

(end; beginning and continuation)

…Throughout August 1943, alone, father continued to go to peat mining for the sole purpose of fleeing into the forest as soon as possible. And in early September, a young village girl approached the Jews who worked at the peat and asked: “Who is Dodik here?” She first spoke with a policeman who checked her Ausweis and took some of the groceries from the basket that she carried for exchange in Minsk. Pulling father aside, she quietly asked: “What is your mother’s name?” Having clarified this question, she explained my father that if he would escape, then he needs to go round the German post deep in to the forest and wait for her after two kilometers at the edge of the forest. In two days she will be returning from Minsk, but he should not approach her, and instead carefully follow her through the forest.

It was a Minsk underground woman, a partizan detachment envoy Lidia Dmitrievna Berestovskaya (Kashchey after marriage). Heading towards Minsk, being on the next task of the command of the partizan detachment, and seeing a group of Jews from the ghetto, she immediately remembered the story of my grandmother Liza, that she accidentally heard in the detachment. Partizans asked grandmother from where did she came from and where her family was. And my grandmother had to tell that her only surviving son, a 14-year-old teenager Dodik, remained in the ghetto, and that he may continue to go to forced labor on peat mining to the same place from which she was able to escape in early August.

Lidia Dmitrievna Kashchei, who saved my father

On that day father jumped out of the moving car near the forest when they returned to the ghetto. A Lithuanian policeman just got into the cabin of the car to a German driver, as it began to rain heavily. Other Jews tried to discourage him from jumping, saying that if the guards notice that, they can kill him. Father told them that either way they would kill everyone soon. He spent two days in the forest, and on the third day he waited in the appointed place. By noon, the same young partizan appeared on the forest road. They walked for several days, mainly in the dark, through bushes and swamps, because they were afraid to go along forest roads, and my father did not have any papers. Lida was well-versed in the area, as she was from these places, from the village of Skuraty.

The partizan detachment was in a deep forest, but only ten kilometers from the site of peat mining. When they arrived, Lida told my father: “Go to that dugout, there your mother works as a cook”…

Ghetto Prisoner David Kanonik Testimony

On July 16, 1944, a partizan parade was held in liberated Minsk. In the middle of July 1944, father and his mother returned to their house, the Kanonik family house, where they lived before the war, before the ghetto, near Chervensky road, on 25 Krupskaya street. But the house was occupied, other people lived there for a long time, because they thought all the Jews died. The mother did not want to argue, although it was not a big problem to legally return the house. But she did not do so, apparently, not quite good memories connected her with this house. Having entered the barn in the yard, they found a box with pre-war photographs of the family among a pile of firewood. Grandmother and father went to live in Grushevka, where the old Goberman family house was preserved on Pakgauznaya Street, No. 7 (later Khmelevsky Street), in which grandmother lived until 1925, before she got married. And just than, her own younger sister Rosa Davidovna Troychanskaya (Goberman) returned from evacuation with her daughter Ella and son Erik. Rosa’s husband, Solomon Troychansky, remained in Chelyabinsk, as he held a senior management position at the defense plant. And the two sisters divided the house into two halves, with two entrances. Half of the house inherited by father and his mother had to be converted into a living room. Since before the war, it was used for a light chaise of great-grandfather David Goberman, the grandmother’s father, who worked as a cabman. In general, many Jews lived on Grushevka, who officially worked as cabmen in the Fridman brick factory, which was located in Tuchinka.

David Goberman had two siblings, Nokhim and Yankel, who also lived on Grushevka and were the heads of their very large families. All three were the sons of great-grandfather Abram Goberman, and all were born on Grushevskaya Street in house number 46.

David Goberman was the head of a large family; he and his wife Esther had four daughters and two sons. In each generation, twins were born in the Goberman family.

One son of David Goberman drowned as a teenager in a small lake, which was right on our street. The second son, Evel Goberman (Evel and my grandmother Liza were twins born in 1906), went through the whole war, he was drafted into the army back in 1939. In the rank of captain, he was a political instructor, deputy commander of the 1st tank battalion of the 20th tank brigade of the First Belorussian Front. He took part in the liberation of Belarus, had many decorations and medals.

Evel Davidovich Goberman, brother of Liza Davidovna Kanonik (Goberman)

After the war, Evel, his wife Fira and their three children, the eldest son Vova, the middle Felix and the youngest daughter Sofa lived on our street Pakgauznaya, at number 4. But in the mid-50’s Evel Goberman, among the thirty-thousand Communists, was sent to work as chairman of the Soviet Belarus collective farm in the Kletsk district of the Minsk region. Being a very intelligent person and a good manager, Evel Goberman brought this weak and lagging collective farm to the front in the agriculture of Belarus. He received the right to annually present the achievements of Belarus agriculture at VDNH in Moscow, where prizes and medals were constantly awarded to the collective farms.

After five years as collective farm chairman, Evel Goberman returned to Minsk and was appointed director of the Minsk brush factory, where he worked for many years until his retirement. Evel Goberman died in Minsk in 1979.

One of the four daughters of David Goberman, Lyuba, was married to a border guard officer, Izossim (Zussya) Shmotkin, they lived at the Domachevo outpost near Brest. Lyuba with her young daughter Esmeralda on the first day of the war managed to evacuate with the other wives of the officers. But they could not go far; the car was bombed near Minsk. Locals declared to the Germans that she was Jewish and the wife of a border guard officer, and she and her daughter were shot. And that same border guard officer, Izossim Shmotkin, returned from the war with the rank of major. Having raised a new family, he lived next door to us at Grushevka, in house No. 48. He and his wife Ida had two children, the eldest son Lenya and daughter Olga, with whom I studied in the same class at school No. 3.

David Goberman with his wife Esther and another daughter Raya got into the ghetto, where they died. The only daughter that escaped from the ghetto was my grandmother Liza, born in 1906, as well as the youngest daughter Rosa, born in 1911, who was with her family in evacuation in Chelyabinsk.

Oddly enough, but the area of the Grushevsky village was completely preserved in the pre-war form, it was never bombed. Perhaps because German railway soldiers were stationed there, serving the Minsk railway junction, some of which also worked at the wagon repair plant. For example, in our school No. 3 (where me and my sister Lilya studied), and this was a new four-story building, built in 1936, there were German barracks. After the war, my father also studied there, graduating from evening school.

…After receiving a certificate from the party archive at the beginning of April 1986, all documents were issued to my father in the Moscow District Executive Committee and in the military registration and enlistment office. A telephone was installed in the house on Grushevka – by the way, this wooden house (see photo 2016) is still standing on Khmelevsky street, No. 7. Father was put on a preferential line for an apartment at the place of work at the radio factory. A year later, they offered an apartment in the city center in an old departmental building of the radio factory, on Kommunisticheskaya street. As it turned out later, Oswald, the assassin of President Kennedy, lived in this very house at the time when he worked at the Minsk Radio Plant.

Kanonik’s family house on Grushevka, photo from 2016

In addition to the large ghetto, in Minsk there was another small ghetto. At the end of the summer of 1941, the Germans selected 500 specialists of rare and important specialties from a large ghetto, together with their families, they resettled 3000 people to this small ghetto. Since November 1941, European Jewish specialists also fell there. It was an SS work camp on Shirokaya Street. The camp was constantly replenished also at the expense of Jewish prisoners of war, who were brought from different places. So in August 1942, officer Alexander Aaronovich Pechersky got there with a group of prisoners of war. He spent almost a year in the labor camp, and a month before the destruction of the Minsk ghetto in September 1943, he, as part of a large group of Jewish specialists, was sent to the Sobibor extermination camp with their families.

The extermination camp Sobibor was established in the spring of 1942 in southeastern Poland. A month after arrival, Pechersky became the leader of the only successful uprising in the death camp during the Second World War. After the successful uprising on October 14, 1943, the Nazis killed everyone who remained in the camp and completely destroyed it.

One of the most mysterious and tragic stories of the Minsk ghetto is a story little known to the general public about how, in early October 1943, 26 Jews from several families living on Sukhaya Street hid in a pre-prepared basement-crypt near the cemetery itself. At that time, the last 3,000 Jews remained in the ghetto. The hiding people had a correct calculation – everyone already understood that the Minsk ghetto had only a few days left.

And so it happened, from October 21 to October 23 was the last pogrom, it was a sweep. Hiding in houses, basements and malinas (self-made shelters) did not make sense anymore, since during the last pogrom there was not a single place left where grenades would not fly, and you do not need to do sweeps in the cemetery and look for someone. They stayed there for 9 months, until July 1944. Realizing that the ghetto was already gone, they continued to hide, and only at night they could breathe fresh air and carefully draw water from the nearest well.

There is a wonderful story about these people by Minsk resident Ilya Leonov “263 days in the underground”, as well as “1111 days on the brink of death”.

As you know, tankmen of several armies were liberating Minsk at once, but another military unit did the real sweeping of the city. These were the soldiers of the 132nd border (later the Minsk Order of the Red Star) regiment of the NKVD troops, the rear guard of the army, the Third Belorussian Front.

July 4, 1944, the day after the liberation, while carrying out their work, the soldiers went around the whole city. They found 13 exhausted, ragged people in the Jewish cemetery, in the territory of the former ghetto, looking like the living dead.

After finding this out, the regiment commander, hero of the Civil War, an Odessa Jew, guard colonel Arkady Zakharyevich Khmelyuk ordered that all 13 survivors will be urgently taken to Orsha to the hospital, since there was no hospital in Minsk yet. Father also spoke about this in his memoirs.

Certificates of David Efimovich Kanonik – partizan and war veteran

For cleaning Minsk and its environs, as they caught more than 400 policemen and traitors, this regiment, the only one among the military units of the NKVD, received the honorary name “Minsky”.

In the mid-70s I was drafted into the army precisely in this “Minsky” regiment, military unit 7574, a convoy regiment of internal troops. The military unit was located in the center of Vilnius, and occupied the premises of the former monastery adjacent to the back of the church of Peter and Paul. In the courtyard of the military unit there was a large monument.

Once, during the Victory Day holiday, elderly veteran officers spoke in the assembly hall. One of them told how in July 1944 they liberated Minsk. And on July 4, the day after the liberation, 13 survivors were found in the territory where the Minsk ghetto was located in the cemetery. The story sounded unreasonable, because it was known that the Minsk ghetto ceased to exist in the twenties of October 1943.

Having been demobilized from the army, already at home in Minsk, I told my father about this. And then father said that they were their relatives and neighbors from Sukhaya Street. One of the eldest in this group of 26 Jews was Elya (Israel) Goberman, a cousin of my father’s mother, my grandmother Liza Kanonik (Goberman). Elya Goberman before the war also living on Grushevka in house number 46 and worked as a cabman on his carriage, always harnessed by his favorite horse nicknamed Haver (friend). The horse understood all the Yiddish commands.

Elya and his wife Heyna survived, they were among the 13 that was saved. Three of their daughters died. In December 1942, their youngest six-year-old daughter Maya, born in 1936, fell ill and died in the ghetto. In August 1943, policemen accidentally detained and took to the gas chamber their two eldest daughters, the middle Sonya, born in 1932, and older Fanya, born in 1928. For more than two years of life in the ghetto, the parents managed to protect their daughters who were hiding in the “malinas” when their parents were in forced labor.

Father has told me that Uncle Elya invited him in August 1943 to join them and also hide in this basement. The basement was prepared by the famous Minsk stove-maker Pinya Dobin, a good friend of Elya Goberman. But father refused, as he hoped in the very near future to run away and look for his mother, who was already in the partizan detachment.

After the war, my father often saw the Gobermans, as the three sisters of Uncle Elya, Raya, Nechama and Yokha lived with their families in our neighboring house on Grushevka, in the same house No. 46. The large house was divided into three separate apartments. Uncle Elya and his wife Heyna lived a long life with the dream of Zion, but then it was not possible to realize it. Elya Goberman died in 1973, and Heyna in 1981.

Elya and Hyena Goberman, mid-1950s.

Father is no longer alive. His memories of life in the ghetto were recorded in 1996 by the Steven Spielberg Foundation employees and are preserved in the Jewish Museum in Minsk.

Maya Kanonik (Meisels), wife of David. Photo from 2019. On December 18, she turned 85 years old, she lives in Ashdod. We congratulate her on behalf of the all readers of the website. Mazal Tov!

The children of David Efimovich Kanonik, Lilya and Igor (the author of this story)

Eternal memory to all relatives who died in the Minsk ghetto.

Only memory remains for our generation. Memory is not needed by the dead – memory is needed by the living.

I would like to note that I am not a historian, but I know history.

Igor Kanonik, Haifa (Israel)

Written in 2013–2019.

Translation from the original by Igor Shustin

Published 04/17/2020 11:31

Response

Felix Goberman from Australia sent photos of his father and mother from 1945.

Evel Goberman                                                             Fira Goberman

Added 04/20/2020 18:14