A Schedrin/Bobruisk Travelog

by Sheldon Benjamin, MD, Miriam Rosenblum, Malka Benjamin, and Raphael Benjamin

[Ed. note: this is excerpted from a much longer original document that covers the entire trip taken in June, 1996 by Sheldon Benjamin, Miriam Rosenblum, and their children Rafi (age 8) and Malka (age 11). The Oleg referred to is Oleg Perzashkevich, the Minsk researcher, who is an old friend of Sheldon’s.]

Part 2: VOROTIN, BELARUS

We were so tired after a full day with the Bobruisk Jewish community (see below) that we nearly decided not to attempt a visit to the little dorf (small settlement) in which Sheldon’s grandfather was born, Vorotin. It was the opposite direction from Minsk after all, and Sheldon had been there once before. It was Oleg who asked us whether we were so often in the Belarussian countryside that we could afford to be cavalier with our agenda. When we think of what we came so close to missing, we still shudder.

Vorotin was never more than a dorf. Even now, after having absorbed the little town down the road, it still barely qualifies as a dorf. Sheldon’s great grandparents, Nesoneyl and Kaleh Bentzianov, operated a grain mill in the waning years of nineteenth century Vorotin. There were only about 10 Jewish families in the Vorotin of 1915, the Vorotin Sarah Kaleh Benjamin came to know during the 8 years she lived with her inlaws waiting for her husband (Sheldon’s paternal grandfather, Aaron) to send for her. Aaron and his six brothers and sisters lived with their parents and Zeyde Mudye (Mordechai--Nesoneyl’s father) in a little wooden house with a single sleeping room. In Sheldon’s early interviews with Bubbe she had not only listed the family names, but the occupations of each of the other Jews of Vorotin. There was Yankel the kretchmer (tavern keeper), Yale Meyshe the kuzhnye (blacksmith), Dovidl der Shvartzer (Dovidl the Black, so named for his dark black hair and beard), and of course Zelig der Heykher (Zelig the tall).

Searching for Traces of Bentzianovs

Goats nibbling bundle of branches being carried by a woman in Varatin, whom we consulted to try to learn where the "old people" lived. Rafi looking on with amusement.

By this time, our driver, Gennady, knew the drill. First a stop to photograph the Vorotin sign. Then a slow drive through the village trolling for older citizens. By the time our van pulled over a few Vorotiners had already crossed the street for a closer look. We slid open the door of our time machine to confront the babushka-covered heads and ask who had been there long enough to tell us about the Jewish community before the war.

The old woman in Varatin who allowed us to interview her in bed about the Jews.

We came upon an old woman carrying a bundle of branches from which two goats were nipping at leaves as they fell in step behind her. She couldn’t help us but suggested we try the home of a 95 year old woman down the street. We were welcomed into the house by her children, visiting from the city for the weekend. In the entry room chickens were lazily pecking at their grain on the floor. A coarse blanket divided this room from the living room. In a darkened alcove to the right, lay the old woman, who through her daughter, agreed to be interviewed. She lives alone, explained her daughter. A great ceramic stove, just as has been used in peasant homes for cooking and heat for centuries, occupied one side of the room. And perched atop a cabinet on the other side of the room, a television.

The old woman did remember the Jews, but none by name or occupation. Her memory was too clouded to help us. In the street once more, a woman volunteered to come with us in the van to help us find an informant. She suggested we speak with a woman in a farmyard Sheldon had seen in his last visit to Vorotin. The woman we sought was just then milking the cows (it was dusk) and her husband asked us to wait for her. When she finally emerged she said she was not quite old enough to give us the answers we sought but she was certain old Osip Nikitich could help.

Osip Remembers

Osip, the old man who remembered the site of Sheldon’s great grandfather’s mill, pointing out the site.

Osip Nikitich, her 86 year old neighbor, was napping when we entered the gate of his farmyard. His son went to fetch him, and asked us to wait while his father dressed. Osip emerged, strong and tall, and we had no doubt that he worked as hard every day as his son described. As a young man, Osip remembered taking his grain to the Jewish miller to grind. He couldn’t recall the name, and couldn’t say for certain if it was Bentzianov.

But the old pictures we brought looked somewhat familiar to him. As we interviewed Osip Nikitich and showed him the pictures, we noticed a small crowd of neighbors gathering at the gate. The woman who had come with us in the van was explaining that we were from America and that we were descendants of Vorotin. Now a celebrity, she proudly described how we drove all the way from Minsk in our van. Then our mouths dropped. Osip was just saying that he didn’t remember the name of the old miller but began reciting aloud the Jews he did remember. "Let’s see," he enumerated on his fingers. "There was Yankel." "Was he a tavern keeper?" Sheldon inquired. "No, he sold hardware (we despaired that Bubbe’s memory had been inaccurate). The tavern failed." (how could we have doubted Bubbe’s recall?). "And Shmuyla the Kuzhnye," Osip continued. "Are you certain it wasn’t Yale Meyshe?" we asked disappointed. "Oh no, it was definitely Shmuyla. His father, Yale Meyshe, was an old man already." "Then there was Zelig the tall…"

Nesoneyl’s Mill

Osip offered to conduct us to the site of the mill and where the house had probably been. It was about a kilometer away, where once had been the confluence of three rivers. One of the rivers was now underground. Another had been diverted. The mill was gone. Osip recalled the miller (presumably Nesoneyl) however and told us a few stories about him. He recalled, for instance, the miller getting angry and throwing Osip and his friends out of the mill pond when, as children, they would sneak in for a swim. The mill must have been sold in the 20’s or 30’s. Their children had moved far and wide. Chaya, Henya, Rose and Aaron were in America. David and Lippi moved to Bobruisk. Sarah married and moved to Leningrad. So Nesoneyl and Kaleh moved to Paritch. After Kaleh died in Paritch, Nesoneyl moved on to Schedrin to live out his years. And what became of the old mill? Osip said it burned down in about 1952 due to the negligence of the new owners, who, in a drunken stupor, hadn’t noticed the flames around them from the fire they had apparently started. A payoff to the local authorities prevented an investigation from taking place. In other words, business as usual.

We have just started to Vorotin, where my dad’s grandpa’s father (actually Sheldon’s grandfather) lived before he immigrated to America. We are here. We are asking an old lady that has two goats which are trying to butt me about my dad’s grandpa’s dad. She says she can’t help us but she knows a ninety-two year old lady. My dad is happy because she can still speak and hear. She remembers him and his family. There is something else. She knows a 101 year old man who can still talk and hear perfectly. Great news. He knows everything about him. He is taking us to the mill he used to own. Unfortunately it is not there anymore because he retired and the two people who took over were drunk and burned it down… (from Rafi’s journal).

A Varatin home.

On the road back from the mill site, we passed several wooden houses. "Zelig used to live in one of these," Osip said. "And this one was the blacksmith’s." The house in which Zeyde was born no longer stands. But Osip indicated where it used to stand, and there, Malka collected a little bottle of earth as the old man, visibly moved, watched over her.

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Content last updated Friday, July 31, 2015 at 06:03 PM US Eastern Standard Time