Esfir Is Alive by Andrea Simon

Author:Andrea Simon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction / Holocaust
Publisher: BedazzledInk Publishing
Published: 2016-10-05T04:00:00+00:00

Ida took me on a quick walking tour with Ester tagging along. We passed the Jewish school that had classes conducted primarily in Yiddish. American relatives of the Volchiners helped support the school.

Then there was a large brick building, the village synagogue. We didn’t go inside, but Ida said that it was beautiful with paintings and biblical verses on the walls. She described the houses we passed, reciting the names of its residents and something special about each occupant like the trade of the father or the wedding plans of a daughter. In one such house, there lived a father and his two sons. The boys were members of the Betar; the eldest was Volchin’s Betar commander. This is where the Betar members congregated.

“Remember the chart I made you of the social and political groups?” Ida asked. I guess I looked dumfounded because she said, “You know Betar is the youth organization of the Revisionist Zionists.” I nodded. “Of course,” she added, “almost everybody in Volchin is a Bundist. The Bund is non-Zionist. It all gets very confusing. I try to stay out of these discussions. You know me, I am of two minds.” I nodded again in total bewilderment.

Yet I loved when Ida spoke to me like I was her age. It was only then that I realized that Ester was not with us. She must have met someone or gone back home. Ida pointed out the large building where she had just come from, studying for her role. I wished I could have seen her perform. She took me as far as the market square, where stores were arranged in a half circle. Behind the stores, there was a passage that eventually led to the river. I longed to follow that path, but we didn’t have time. The town well was in the center of the market. Villagers were drawing water from a wooden pail attached to the end.

Too bad, Ida said, that we came on a Tuesday because Monday was Market Day, when shoppers and peddlers from all over came with their carts bulging with merchandise. Mrs. Midler usually set up a small table and sold fruit and vegetables, and sometimes flowers if she could part with them. This was also the area where the villagers held weddings. I felt like I was missing out on everything special.

I couldn’t dwell on my losses too long. Our time was running out and we headed back to Ida’s house. I was anxious that my grandfather would be angry with me for being away for so long. Secretly, I hoped that our lingering caused us to be too late to catch the train in Visoke and we’d have to sleep at the Midlers.

I needn’t have worried. When we walked in the living room, my grandfather and Mr. and Mrs. Midler were wrapped up in their talking. I was happy that they seemed to be getting along so well. They were discussing the clashes between the Arabs and Jews in Palestine,

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