My mom, Pearl Davis, at her engagement party to my dad, with her parents, Esther Bryna (nee Friedman, from Zemelis, Lithuania) and Morris Herman (Moshe Zelig Woznica) from PolandAbe & Pearl Davis Wedding 1948Muizenberg kids at Betar meeting with Madrichim David Lazarus and Alan Pick. I am in pigtails with hand at heart
Marlene with friend Gillian Mansfield on left and the late Clem Stoltz on right. Taken lunch time one summer while working at Tockar’s pharmacyMuizenberg memoriesMarleme with Eunice Baartman on a picnic in SimonstownMuizenberg Corner stone stepsWith Dr Stan Davis St James Beach on one of regular Mzb to Kalk Bay walks whenever thereDad – Abe Davis at “Stanette”Dad & SisterThe six Davis grandchildren on the wall at Stanette , Windermere Rd, Muizenberg. Two Davis girls, two Stanger boys and two Simantov boys.
I’m happy to tell you that we are heading towards our Living Memorial project and would like to invite you to join us. I know some of you would have gladly come and here is an opportunity for you to be with us in the Bielski camp again.
Please, see the attachment. You’ll find a short description of the project in the Call and instructions how to participate in the Annex.
My partners and I will be grateful for everything you can share with us. We, in our turn, promise to update you in the course of the project and provide the effect of presence, if the Internet works in the forest:) Otherwise, there will be a 26 min. movie available which will give you an idea about what we do in the forest.
This story is written as a tribute to my late parents, Abe and Pearl Davis, who lived in Muizenberg for 56 years before moving to Highlands House, Oranjezicht, in 2005. Abe passed away October 22, 2007 aged 94 – less than a mile from where he was born – and Pearl passed away on July 24, 2016, aged 92.
My granny, Mrs. Esther Bryna Herman, from Malvern by way of Vilnius, had a friend called Sonya Blechman. My dad, born at 2 Prince Street, Gardens, had an aunt called Tilly Josman. Mrs. Blechman told her friend, Aunty Tilly, about the beautiful daughter of her friend and Aunty Tilly thought, “Ahh, time for my nephew Abie to settle down…enough of the post-war gallivanting…” So next time Abie was up in Joburg – Roodepoort to be exact, to see the relatives – Aunty Tilly invited Mr. and Mrs. Herman and the Blechman’s and Pearl came along too.
Abie was smitten. The blond, blue eyed, water-polo playing Davis boy could not stop thinking of the dark-haired, tall, thin and elegant Pearl and when he got home to Cape Town, he wrote her a letter. It was written on thin, air-mail paper on two pages on the letterhead of his brother, Simon’s company that was simply called Simon Davis. But he had crossed out the name Simon and replaced it with Abe.
It was a love letter and said he believed they could have a happy life together. An engagement followed and Pearl, an only child, flew down to Cape Town to meet the Davis family. She wore a new white suit and a new stylish hat but by the time she arrived, air-sick and disheveled, she felt anything but stylish. Abe brought her to the family home at 7 Marais Road, Sea Point. There she met “Mother” (Chaya Itil “Annie” nee Josman) and “Father” (Hyman Davis formerly Melnick in the old country prior to telling Cape Town customs that his name was Chaim Dovid….). This is how the Davis children referred to their Yiddish speaking parents. The children consisted of Abe and his siblings, who were Simon, Louis, Issy, Ethel, Harry, Alfred and Lily. Pearl was welcomed into the fold and soon found out about the gregarious, sporty, movie loving boys – all fast eaters – and the sisters, the older one sassy and irreverent and the baby, sweet and adored.
The wedding took place at Marais Road shul and Pearl and Abe had to decide where they wanted to settle down – Camps Bay, where brother Alfred and his wife Rae (nee Katzeff), had set up home, or Muizenberg, where Simon and Rose and Issy and Rose lived. Muizenberg it was. 1948 – what a year! As Hedy no-relation-Davis aptly stated, veritable Shtetl by the Sea. They moved to Clevedon Cottage in Clevedon Road and had their first baby, Stan, in 1949. The following year they moved to Windermere Road and in 1951, baby number two, Annette was born. They named their house “Stanette.”
I came along in 1954. And what do I remember? I will first of all say that Bobba Bryna Herman was living with us by that time, since Morris Zelig (after whom I was named Marlene “Masha” Zelda) had passed away suddenly while on holiday in Muizenberg a few years before. I remember the promenade walks on summer nights, the ice-creams at the Milk Bar in the pavilion, the Sunday trips to Mr. Raad’s café for toffee apples and Tex bars, the egg-salad sandwiches at Sunrise beach on balmy February evenings when we all went swimming after dad came home from work, the Kushners next door, playing in the park across the road from shul, playing at the park near the vlei, playing marbles on the field next to the Liebrecht’s house – all under the loving protection of Abe and Pearl, and of course, Bobba. There were the Sunday drives through Tokai, stopping to buy Hanepoort grapes when in season, to see Zayda in Sea Point and have tea with the extended Davis family. The large dining room table surrounded by uncles, aunts and first cousins.
By then, my dad had his own business importing home wares from China and traveling on sales trips. He had a driver, Courtman, who taught me Xhosa and who named his firstborn Stanley. Then Abe’s fortune changed and he lost the business. I remember the anxious day when a man came to meet with my parents to talk about the insurance business. He was with Sun Life of Canada. My dad joined them and continued through to Liberty Life, leaving only in his 80’s. The young staff by that time called him Uncle Abie. My mom got a job as well. I was six. She was secretary at Floyd and Emery, prominent architects in their day. Zayda (my dad’s “Father”) died round that time as well. His tailor shop, Davis and Stevens, on Long Street, purveyors of fine cloth and excellent taste, had the distinction of making the graduation gown for Queen Elizabeth (the Queen Mother) when she received her honorary Doctor of Laws degree from UCT in April, 1947. He also rode a Harley with a side car and was the tall, handsome patriarch, rocking in the chair at 7 Marais Road, always dressed impeccably with his pocket watch an object of fascination for all the grandkids.
School, cheder, the beach, the freedom to play, catching the train to town on a 21c ticket to go to lunch at Garlicks and a movie and still having change from R1, and the knowledge that the world had an order defined by a fine moral compass and the love of family. It was a village. It took a village.
Then there was the music. Dan Hill and his orchestra, Frank Sinatra, Buddy Holly, always music. And standing in my parent’s room at my mom’s dressing table watching her get dressed to go dancing with my dad on a Saturday night. The beautiful brocade dress with roses on the waist sash, the purple satin dress with the built in petticoat, the impossibly small waistline… I learnt about perfume behind your ears and on your wrists…
Into the teens. Socials at the Herzl Hall in Wherry Road. How embarrassing for me that my dad and others on the shul committee who had organized the event were in the kitchen selling Fanta, Coke and Bar Ones…didn’t want him to see me slow dancing with Joburg and Durban boys in Muizies for the season. Bands were Shag and Jimmy Retief and the Idiots. Jimmy used to play the guitar with his teeth…
My mom always had an expanding Shabbat table. When my dad came home from shul, we never knew how many Navy boys he would bring with him on a Friday night. Another incentive to look nice for Shabbat! My mom also had a remarkable, expanded vocabulary and I called her my walking dictionary. She graduated from Jeppe Girls’ High and her leather bound prize books which I cherish attest to her brilliance. First in Latin, First in Math, First in class. She could have been a doctor like her Reichman cousins in Joburg, but instead she learned to type.
Baking, collecting rummage, organizing meetings – always involved in the community. My dad, shul chairman or president for as long as I can remember. Both life members of the shul. Charity and acts of loving kindness were part of the fabric of my home, with early lessons about helping others very clearly imprinted in my mind.
Overall, we made one another happy and laughed so much. I watched Monty Python with my mom at the Empire and by the time the opening credits for And Now For Something Completely Different came on the screen, we were already in tears from laughing so much. I learned about fun and laughter, music and dancing, from my parents. I learned about reading voraciously and hard work, from my parents. I learned about faith and loyalty and relationships from my parents. When Stan, Netty and I remember our father, we go : “He he he” (the e like staccato air without the r.) We learned about happiness and contentment, the riches of good family relationships, from him.
I cannot even begin to tell the whole story of who they were and what they meant to me and those who knew them. My beloved parents, village elders who held the community in their hearts. Both in Muizenberg where they lived their halcyon years and at Highlands House where they lived their final years, together there for a short time and now together again. Joburg girl and Cape Town boy with Muizenberg their medina.
So when I walk on the beach in Del Mar or Torrey Pines and I wear the floppy hats I brought home with me after burying darling Pearl next to her Abe, I will think of those who wore the hats before me on the sands of Muizies and walk tall and happy knowing that their spirits are both alive and flowing in me. The music, dancing, fun and reading, learning, working and giving will continue.
Wherever you may be, Mrs. Blechman and Aunty Tilly – thank you for the great mitzvah.
This article was originally published in Genesis, a Genealogical magazine, in August 2013.
I am actually what is often referred to as a BoereJood, Three Litvak Jewish Grandparents, and a Boer Grandmother. My Great Grandmother was unilingual Afrikaans, I remember her well, and until she passed at 92 we had 5 generations living in direct descent. I use the word “Boer” deliberately, it is a specific group within the general Afrikaner group, and heavily interrelated. I was born in Pretoria. As well as growing up in an Afrikaner dorp upbringing in Malmesbury through my primary school life, in a one-room school house. Most of my friends there spoke Afrikaans. I am talking about cultural and ethnic influences here, my Boer origin Grandmother did convert to Judaism. In reading the article you will recognize I distinguish beteen being Jewish, and practicing Judaism. In the British Empire the two are seen as the same thing; stop practicing Judaism and you are no longer a Jew, but that’s not how it is seen outside the British Empire and it’s remnants, and it is not how it is seen by me. I haven’t practiced Judaism much throughout my life since my Bar Mitzvah, and just about all of my Israeli relatives never even had a Bar Mitzvah, I’ve been an atheist all my life, but I’d like to meet the man who tries to tell me that I’m not a Jew. This article is mainly about my Afrikaner forebears, and whom the Afrikaners are, and whence they come. I’m sure you will find some real surprises there, Afrikaners certainly aren’t just the Dutch with a group of French Huguenots thrown in. I certainly was surprised as I researched it, and it ends with a summation comparing the heritage and origins of the Afrikaner, and their bond to the land of South Africa, with the Jews and their bond to their land of Israel. This is reflected in the title of the article – The Afrikaners: Perhaps Africa’s Most Enigmatic Tribe. And the parallels continue as the Afrikaners deal with their diaspora and dual allegiance.
Our 50th Muizenberg High School matriculation class of ’61 reunion was held in November 2011. I compiled a booklet for the occasion, to hand out to the attendees and mail to those that could not come, containing pictures of them then and now, and a description of their memories and their lives so far in their own words. At the time only 3 people of the 37 that matriculated had passed away, and there was 1 we could not locate. We got input from the spouses and/or children of those that had passed on to include in the book. Unfortunately since, a fair number have gone to the big reunion in the sky.
Due to a complete surprise emergency bypass operation, I did not make it to the reunion, but my book did. I attach the general pages of the book, but only my own two personal pages. Mervyn Rosenberg has his copy, and has confirmed to me he would share it with you if you are interested.
However, although all these people provided their information knowing it was going into a booklet to be distributed at the reunion, and with few exceptions submitted the information themselves, before distributing anything you might want to clear it with them. Their pages contain their email numbers at the time. I have no problem with any information regarding myself.
I also have a picture of Muizenberg High School taken in 1915, before the third story was added, but I doubt that will rekindle any memories in anyone still living, so I didn’t include it. I also have the yearbook of 1961, in electronic form, David Lazarus and I were both on the editorial board. As well as a booklet published by Dennis Herbstein describing life in Muizenberg during the war years, specifically for children.
Anyway attached is the relevant pages of the reunion of the class of 61 booklet
I remember Moishe Sevitz very well, a man who was both alone and lonely. He frequently visited my grandparents’ home, and used to sit there quietly in the midst of our family, just just enjoying being a part of a happy family gathering, but seldom talking. Perhaps he was comfortable because my Litvak Grandfather had first immigrated to England, served in the British Army in WWI in France, and been gassed in the trenches. The UK paid passage for himself and his entire family to the British colony of his choice when he could not breath with his damaged lungs in the Manchester smog. I still have a copy of the UK warrant that served as his ticket. Steerage class, £5 for the entire passage of all five; two adults and 3 children with luggage storage, food and bedding included. In addition my father and all my uncles, on both sides of the family had volunteered during WWII and served up North. So they knew the type of world and conflict he had escaped.
The Famous Stuffed Lions
The famous stuffed lions. Lily Rosenberg (later Pool), Farrell’s mother’s sister, and Yehutka Boyd, 1930
The stuffed Lions were in a glass walled building similar to a beach hut on Balmoral beach, and were a favourite prop for photographs which were taken by the people who ran the beach photograph concession on Muizenberg beach. They were there forever, and still there in the 1960’s when I left SA. People often mention them in reminiscing, and did so a number of times on Ryan Newfield’s series of Zoom get-togethers. Lily Rosenberg was my Mother’s sister, living in Pretoria at the time, and Yehutka Boyd was a family friend who lived in Muizenberg on Yarmouth Road a few houses down from us, when I knew him in the 50’s and 60’s.
N E W M U S I C A L T H E A T R E P R O D U C T I O N ,
T H E H O L L O W C A U S E , R E L E A S E S O F F I C I A L S I N G L E :
“ T H E W O R L D B E L O N G S T O M E . ”
The Hollow Cause cast teamed up with The West Coast Philharmonic Orchestra to perform “The World Belongs to Me”–the first song release from the upcoming musical, The Hollow Cause. Filmed at The Perth Hebrew Congregation, the clip features the dynamic and powerful voices of Vin Trikeriotis (Jesus Christ Superstar) and Morgan Cowling (Phantom of the Opera USA Tour), singing a love ballad between two headstrong main characters that allow themselves to become gradually more vulnerable as the song progresses.
The West Coast Philharmonic Orchestra’s conductor, Sam Parry, became involved when The Hollow Cause musical production creator, Keshet, reached out simply for professional revision. Parry was so impressed with the quality and freshness of the music that he suggested a collaboration between the stage musical and The West Coast Philharmonic Orchestra.
When asked about the selection of the largest WA synagogue, The Perth Hebrew Congregation, as the choice for the video clip setting creator Keshet responded;
“Our location was selected for two reasons:
1) Orchestral music tends to be recorded in big halls, and churches are quite a popular choice but recording in Synagogues is not something that is explored much. The Synagogue provided unique acoustics for our song recording. 2) The Hollow Cause is a Jewish tale of surviving during the Holocaust. We felt that recording in a Jewish sacred place, coupled with the fact the stage we performed on was donated by an Auschwitz survivor, created an amazing connection to the music we generated.”
The official clip is being released today, 21 May 2021
The World Belongs to Me – The Hollow Cause Cast feat. The West Coast Philharmonic Orchestra
The World Belongs to Me – The Hollow Cause Cast feat. The West Coast Philharmonic Orchestra
The cast of The Hollow Cause and The West Coast Philharmonic Orchestra have united to capture “The World Belongs to Me”; performed at the historic Perth Hebr…
It is ironic that most of us are unaware of our origins in Orla, Marek Chmielewski has made a great effort on our behalf to assure today’s current residents of Orla does. Marek, the mayor of Orla, has implemented programs in the local school and annual events about its forgotten past, much of which are at his own cost. The following video commemorates the 72nd anniversary of the liquidation of Orla of its Jews that occurred on November 4, 1942. All of the guests are residents of the village. Some of the names on the wall commemorating those that perished are our direct relatives.
We, here in Orla, try to honor the memory of our Jewish neighbors. I personally funded the monument, see below. Every year we organize Remembrance Days together with the March of Remembrance – the uploaded film is a report from similar celebrations. I am sending you links to other events that I organize in Orla
Celebrating what would have been my mother Raele (Ray) Zeldin Rabinowitz’s 102 birthday. Ray was born on 11 May 1919 in Dvinsk, now Daugavpils, Latvia.
These colour photos were originally in b/w. I used MyHeritage.com’s Colorized to bring them to life!
The above picture shows the wonders of archival research done three generations later. In this picture is “LEFT” Aba Liatsky (Lacki) who is the brother of my great grandfather “RIGHT”Lazar(us) Light (Liatsky or Lait). Both were born in Orla. My family in America had no idea that Lazarus had a brother Aba until I researched my Orla family. I found this picture of Aba in the Yad Vashem Holocaust Archives. After comparing their facial features up-close I have no doubt of their relationship. Lazarus lived a comfortable life in New York City and owned a factory that made coats for oversized women. As for Aba Lacki, he owned a launderette (Yad Vashem specifies it was a chemical washing laundry which is maybe what we call today dry cleaning}. Aba’s son Yakov (Jacob) also worked in the Launderette. Aba, his son Yakov with wife Chela and their daughter Mina perished in the Holocaust.
The life of Morris Light differs from most who emigrated from Orla to the United States.
Morris actually returned to Orla after emigrating to the United States.
Morris emigrated from Orla arriving in New York City in 1891 along with my Great grandfather Lazarus (Lazar) Light and his new wife Anna (Chana) Frank. Morris accompanied his eldest son Lazar on his honeymoon. Lazar’s wife, my great grandmother, is the daughter of Heyman Frank and Esther Plioin possibly from Równe (now Rivne). Morris Light returned to Orla between 1902 and 1905 to be reunited with his mother, Miriam Mindel, and relatives that did not join him in America. Morris’ father is Rabbi Dov Ber Liatski of Orla (abt 1835 – Sept 25, 1879). Rabbi Dov’s father, my fourth great grandfather is Rabbi Baruch Zev Liatski (Abt 1810 – 1855).
Rabbi Dov Liatski, correction, born c1835 – 1879
Torn between the luxuries in a new land and ultimately the grim challenges awaiting him in Orla, Morris apparently lived out his final years destitute in the shtetl of his birth. The strife I assume he faced is made evident by his letters below along with a testimonial recorded in Yad Vashem. The testimonial describes the suffering of all in Orla during the remaining years of the decade. I would think returning to Orla with an anglican name there would be some record of Morris Light residing in Orla sometime after 1902. On October 18, 1902 Morris’ wife, my great great grandmother Gitl (Yetta, Gussie) Shottlander (Shortlauder) born February 1859, died in New York City. According to my grandfather’s (Philip Light) sister Bea (Batia), Morris became sad and unhappy and longed to return to Orla. The twist may be that he had a love interest back in Orla. When you read one of his letters his children in America caught on to this and were far from happy! The last letter is actually a poem I have from my great great grandfather dated February 16, 1910 on his 65th birthday. The date of Morris’ death is currently unknown. How he lived out his final days is something that I wonder about. Morris’ fate had he remained in America would have been the opposite of his final years in Orla. By 1910 his children in America prospered, married, had children and some achieved wealth. Morris’ remaining years in Orla left him destitute and pathetic according to his final letter.
The details of the Liatsky family from Orla is documented on ancestry.com I have identified approximately 1,500 descendants just from my great great great grandparents, Dov and Miriam Liatski.
If anyone has any interest in viewing this public tree, please do not hesitate to contact me for an invite.
Below are the hand colored Family Trees by Morris. One located in Florida. One located in Canada.
The one made specifically for Lazar (Lazarus Light my great grandfather) Liatsky was never found. We knew it existed, but all of the relatives we asked knew of it and tried to locate it to no avail. In 1990 or so a woman came into my brother’s (Steven Light of Fort Lauderdale, Florida) place of business located in Miami and said she was a Light and wanted to know if we were related. She came in a month later with a ripped family tree in a large broken frame that her grand nephew had, Sure enough, written in Hebrew, was a branch on the tree with my grandfather Philip Light’s name on it and that of his sisters born at the time the tree was dated. My aunt (Sandra Cohn) figured out how to decipher the tree and the way the offspring were listed in chronological order. Morris made great efforts to make these trees with letters requesting updates of the births subsequent to his emigration from New York back to Orla (see letter below). The bottom of the tree in Hebrew is written “for those that want to remember”. I feel that I may be among the few that care. This makes my inquiries to research my Orla family that much more meaningful.
Attached are the two trees that thus far have been located. I also have a close up picture showing the detail of Morris’ artistic prowess.
Family Tree Ludmer done earlierLight Family TreeTree as background
The main source for reconstructing the history of the family, is a 1906 family tree created by Morris Light (Moshe Lait “surname sometimes used just prior to immigration”). One version of the tree is located in Montreal, Canada. A second version is a copy in the possession of me in Miami, Florida. It is possible that a number of versions were created by Morris. One for each branch of his family. Each one was then mailed from Orla.
I would like to credit Rabbi Jeffrey Marx of Los Angeles California for helping me reconstruct some of the family’s history thus far.
Below is the document of military conscription into the Czar’s army. The assumptions of the translation provided by my brother, Steven Light, may be partially incorrect. The individual’s description states “the index finger lacks the first two joints”. The subject person on this document is illegible. It is most likely Lazar(us) Liatski (Lait, Light) who is my great grandfather.
The affidavit from Bielsk says that the military candidate is missing a finger. I understand that it was common for young Jewish men to shoot their right hand finger off so that they could not hold a gun, thus disqualifying them from enlistment in the Czar’s army. Since the line with the subject name is illegible I am unsure who this letter is for. I assume it is for Lazar(us) who was a teenager then. I know for sure that Lazar(us) had all of his fingers and I would think that the family would have discussed if Morris was missing a finger. This leads me to believe the document is a forgery to disqualify one of them from enlistment. Further research needs to determine this.
Dear [Karl?] Kalman Light and to my devoted daughter in law, Jenny:
We are all, thank God, well. I received your letter, and truly was very happy to get it, because you used to send me a letter every month and now you have not done so for three months. So I thank you warmly and I also thank you for the things that you sent me. You saved me because I did not have anything to wear to go out into the street among people. There was a bit of a mix-up, but there is nothing to be done at this point. I didn’t need a winter jacket but rather a spring jacket, because in Europe it is not fitting for an older person to go out without a jacket, even in summer. Especially in a [illeg.] it isn’t nice, but there is nothing to be done. The jacket will also be of use to me. I thank you very sincerely.
I am also sending you a tree with [illeg.] apples and pears.
For all the grandchildren who will send me a letter, I will answer them with a letter and also a tree with apples and pears. For the little children who can’t yet write me a letter I will also answer if I get a letter from their parents. I am also sending a present for Liala [from your family?] I will soon send a tree with pears and apples for Bubele [?] because Fanny was laid up and it was too hard for her to write to me and it’s too long for Bubele to wait for the apples and pears, so I will send it with a letter to Fanny.
I have also sent the big pictures [photographs] for each person; please be so good as to give them to each one.
Thank you, my daughter- in-law for the birthday greeting which you sent me, and for remembering the paper that I asked you to send me. [Illeg.] Fanny sent me a silk handkerchief but I haven’t received it, but I assume it will be [illeg.] and well wrapped so that no one can get to it, and that it will soon come. About [illeg.] you write that you haven’t gotten the receipt, I will tell him, but it seems to me that he once told me about the [illeg.] from Kalman that she sent it, but I will tell him.
I am also writing about Fanny’s [?]. I had already had the same [?] in the [third?] letter, but nobody wrote me the name of the newborn grandchild and I needed to know it to be able to write the name on the branches of all the trees which I have sent to you and also on the trees I made for [Avrom?] and to send to Orle and to Rokhl Leah, and for my brother’s children. So I left the space on the branches empty because I don’t know the name. And in America you will be able to write in the name yourselves. So when Fanny writes me, she shouldn’t forget to tell me the name so I can fill it in on the branches.
You must write me how [Hinde?] is, because Velvel Levtske told me that she is sick. He said it under his breath and then he told Nekhe that she [Hinde] needs to have an operation so I asked him again and he denied it. So I am very worried about her. So you must write me.
[Entire line along crease illegible].
I have no more news. My devoted son Kalman and Jenny and Liala. May God grant you good luck in business.
From me, your father, father- in- law and grandfather.
Morris Light
Aba and Nekhe and the children send regards to all of you.
Rokhl Leah and Natan and the children send regards to all
Khenke and her husband Ben Zion Shekovitshe and their little children send greetings to all
Kalman Limenske and his wife and children send greetings to all
I send regards to Rokhl Toshman [?] and K_____ Zukerman and her husband and children
I send greetings to Maytes’ [?]children
I send greetings to my sister’s son, Morris Schwartz
I received from Borukh Borman [?] 10 [units of currency; maybe rubles] I gave 5 to [illeg.] and I owed 3 which I paid. May God help all of you and I send my best wishes.
To my devoted daughter in law Jenny Light and to my son [Karl?] Kalman Light. I am, thank God, well. I thought that all my children were angry at me and had decided not to write me any letters, since even from you I haven’t gotten a letter in four months and you used to write me every month. Also, when I wrote to my children regarding Aunt Toybe, that it hadn’t yet come to getting married, that [illeg.] still deliberating about what I should do, they had already stopped writing. Then all of a sudden a letter came from [Otvostsk? – partly illeg.] to someone in Bialystok and that person wrote to me in Orle, saying that the other person had talked to my children in New York and that the children had impudently said that if I get married they won’t send me even one cent. Since I haven’t gotten any letters, that must be true. But then a couple of weeks ago I got a letter from Lazar. He writes me what that person wrote to me, that I won’t get one cent, is a lie and I shouldn’t believe it. But Kalman Limenske happened to read the letter that I had gotten and he said, What became of them in America? Did they become so corrupted in America? If they contributed 10 cents a week they would have [illeg.] to send you. In Bialystok they distribute [sentence along crease in paper illegible.] That’s how amazed Kalman Limenske was. Then ultimately I got the letter from Lazar that said it’s a lie and I shouldn’t believe it. [Illeg.] if they send it, if they don’t send it, with God’s help I won’t be abandoned, and if you can improve your situation , you should do that. That’s what was written in [your?the?] letter, but [illeg.] it must have been that other person who said that they will not send a groshen. [Russian equivalent of a cent.]
I understand that [illeg.] about the children, they won’t send it anyway. The way things are done in small towns, those people in Orle who don’t want to contribute to the Lines Hatsedek [charity in shtetl providing aid to indigent people], they talk about the Lines Hatsedek.
Let’s put this matter aside and talk about [illeg.] things. Today the 16th of February, the [4th?] day of [the Hebrew month of] Adar, is my birthday. So I am sending for all of you my biography that I have written. I ask that you write me more often. Finally, I send greetings to you and Kalman and the children. Please pass on my letter and the biography to everyone. From me, your father, father- in- law and grandfather.
Notes
I use brackets to indicate when something is illegible or uncertain. If entirely illeg.ible: [illeg.]. If I’m unsure I put a question mark after the word/s in question, and all in brackets.
Brackets are also used to provide definitions or explanatory material.
If a word is in italics, it means that it is an English word that the writer wrote in the Yiddish alphabet, e.g. cent.
The list of greetings/regards [the Yiddish word is grus, pl.grisn; verb grisn – to greet or to send regards] at the end of the 1906 letter is very common in Yiddish letters. It was a way for people to keep in touch.
Although Morris addresses the letters to both Kalman and Jenny (I think her Yiddish or Russian name may have been Dzhenie) he often uses the singular “du” for you, instead of the plural ”ir” and I can’t tell if that has any significance. Sometimes it sounds like Jenny was the intended recipient, sometimes both Jenny and Kalman. It may be that she was the main correspondent because she could read and write Yiddish
The following testimonial describes life’s challenges that Morris was subject to when he returned to Orla. The testimonial recorded by Yad Vashem is written by Sylvia Kaspin who is associated by marriage. The date of Morris’ death is currently unknown so I am unsure how much of the timeline below he experienced.
———————
Orla in the Early 1900s
My mother’s family lived in a tiny village in eastern Poland called Orla. At that time it belonged to Russia. It is about 20-25 miles from a fair-sized town called Bielsk. I would guess that Orla is about 50 miles west of the present Russian border. My aunt Bella says that the village had two streets. I only remember one. It was a cobblestone highway that ran through the village. The village had a square in the center, sort of a market place with small stores all around it. Once a week the peasants from the neighboring farms would come to the market place, bring their produce to sell and buy what they needed in these small stores.
The village had a stream. There was a mill on the stream which ground the rye grain used for making the black Russian sourdough bread the people ate. Our miller also had a side line. With his horse and wagon he transported people and goods to and from the villages in this area. There was no other means of transportation.
There was also a beautiful forest near the stream. The whole area was densely forested. In warm weather, on the Sabbath, when no work was done at all, people, especially young people, would walk in the forest.
There was no doctor in the village. There was a pharmacist who compounded medicines himself. My grandmother, Hashe, made tallow candles by dipping them and I have a faint memory of a barn-like structure in the back of the house and seeing candles hanging from the rafters. She had a little store in the village square where she sold these candles and other things as well. What I remember about that store are the big barrels of herring that took up all the space and you could hardly go inside.
There was a house of study, a small room which was part of the synagogue. Right across our house, on the other side of the road, was a very large, grandiose church situated on a large piece of land. Around it was a low stone wall, maybe three or four feet high and on top of the stone wall was an iron fence.
There was, of course, no running water. Water had to be brought in from a well. There was no bathroom. You had to go outside for that. There was no bathtub. I remember being bathed in a large metal container. There was a village bathhouse which was used at certain times.
I remember when the First World War reached our area and the cannon started shooting. I remember that we hid in the cemetery behind the gravestones. The next morning we fled to a town where we stayed a few days and then went back to our village. When we got back to Orla, we found that our house had been completely destroyed, burned to the ground.
The winter, spring and summer after we returned from running away were very hard. There wasn’t enough food. The Germans controlled the supply. The peasants hid as much of their grain and vegetables as they could and then sold it to the people of the villages who would go there at night and smuggle it in without the Germans’ knowledge.
When the whole population was practically starving, my mother and her very close friend who was a trained nurse went to the German commandant and asked him for food to set up a soup kitchen for the village. Strange as it may seem, he agreed to their request and supplied food to them. They set up a soup kitchen for the village and saved a lot of people from starving.
We moved into another house at the other end of the village. This house I remember. You entered from the street into a very large room. To the right was a very large table with chairs and to the left, some sort of cupboard for keeping clothes. Right opposite the entrance was a tremendous oven built from the floor to the ceiling. This is what heated the whole house during the winter. It was a two-story oven. The wood was placed in the lower part of the oven. When the fire died down, the upstairs could be slept in and it was used for that purpose. The winters were very cold so this was beneficial. There was a narrow wooden bench in front of the oven. I don’t remember going outside in the winter. We didn’t have shoes.
To the left of the oven was the entrance to a small room which was used as a bedroom. There were bedrooms on the other side of the oven. There was also a very large kitchen which was shared by another family living on the other side. They were two homes connected by a common kitchen.
The one thing I remember fondly about the kitchen is when bread was baked. This was the Russian black sourdough bread. About 40 lbs. of rye flour was placed in a large wooden container, ingredients added and allowed to stand until it fermented. Then the big oven in the kitchen was fired up and when the wood had turned to coals, the dough was made up into large, round loaves and put into a clearing in the oven with a long paddle.
Spring was a wonderful time after being confined to the house all winter. I remember going barefoot through the meadows and it was wonderful to feel the grass underneath. There was a red clover growing in the meadows and we used to pluck out the petals of the flowers. The tips of the petals were white and quite sweet and we used to eat them.
My father and mother, Joan and Lenny Light and their six grandchildren. Third and fifth generation of Morris Light. (2020)
It is ironic that most of us are unaware of our origins in Orla. Marek Chmielewski has made a great effort on our behalf to assure today’s current residents of Orla are. Marek, the mayor of Orla, has implemented programs in the local school and annual events about its forgotten past, much of which are at his own cost. The following video commemorates the 72nd anniversary of the liquidation of Orla of its Jews that occurred on November 4, 1942. All of the guests are residents of the village. Some of the names on the wall commemorating those who perished are our direct relatives.
