Return to Lithuania ~ Return to Mazeikiai

            A Circle in Completion

             by Raymond Ravinsky

Dedicated to the loving memory of my grandparents Tzirre 'Celia' and Chanan 'Alex' ~z"l  Blessed be their Memory~ and to all those who couldn't make it out of the hell of depravity in time ...

(The following report was written after the 'roots trip' to Lithuania and the other Baltic States, undertaken in July-August 2000 by Shulamit 'Lamie' Ravinsky (maiden name : Poliak) and her two sons Raymond and Stanley.)

The colour pictures below by Stan Ravinsky, August 2000.  

       As I grew up, I heard about Lithuania. Bobba, my loving grandmother, mentioned it a lot. The little town she referred to as "home" was Mazheik (the agreed-upon spelling by the makers of this website, also spelt Mazheyk ~ Mazeikiai in Lithuanian). She left there for South Africa in 1927, together with Mom and my Uncle Archie, both as small children. My Grandfather, Zeida, had left quite some time before, to prepare for their arrival. (see this site under Families Researched, Lubavitsch - the first picture there was taken perhaps a year or two before my grandfather left for South Africa - my grandparents are in the top row, extreme right.)

My grandparents left a lot of family behind. I often think how difficult it must have been for Bobba and Zeida, suddenly having lost all the family they'd left behind, not knowing anything about their fate. Letters were written from Mazeikiai, and received, but that, too, came to an end not long before the outbreak of war ...  Loved ones just disappeared, never to be heard from again. Can words ever adequately describe this?

As a child, I studied the faces of members of the family, in old brown-tinted pictures that hung on the walls in my grandparents' house.

It must have been a mixture of Bobba's occasional loving anecdote .. and loving references to beloved members of the family - these pictures came to life whenever my dreamy, inquisitive gaze fell upon them ... 

Zeida, though, never spoke about his family. In my Mom's side of the family this is a generally-accepted fact. Now it seems a shame that his children and grandchildren never asked him. He had come from Berdyansk in the Ukraine, and, like Bobba, was never to hear from any of his family again.

Lithuania had also been home to my Dad's side of the family. They had come from the little town of Zagare. Though, as a child, I don't remember anyone mentioning that place. In later years, my Mom started mentioning Zagare.  It was much more vague to me. It was even 'further away,' in space and time, than Mazheik.  

I often wondered when they had arrived in Lithuania. In the 14th century? From where? And where were they from before that? But those were questions that were unlikely ever to be answered.  

What could  be realized, was a trip to Lithuania (click here for MAP of Lithuania and region). Mom, Stan and I, were to return to the place where previous generations had lived. Two generations, going back. There seemed something almost ceremonial about this.  A circle in completion.

Stan and I organized the trip to Lithuania. Through the Jewish Genealogy mailing list we made contact with Avi Lishower, who lives in Ashdod, Israel, and whose family originated in Lithuania. Avi has traveled to Lithuania several times and was able to supply us with useful information.    

But what lay ahead of us? I, for one, had very mixed feelings and mixed expectations. The place where both Mom and Dad were born held a great fascination. But I also had this pervasive sense … that I was headed for an immense graveyard …

We flew to the capital of Lithuania , Vilnius (in Yiddish the city is known as Vilna). Velvel, a Jewish cab driver whose name had been given to us by Avi, met us at the airport. We were pleased and perhaps relieved not to have needed to rely on public transport or 'just any old cabby.' We chatted with Velvel in Yiddish. I think we all felt more welcome than we otherwise would have. He took us to the hotel Stan had booked from Israel, the Zaliasis Tiltas, on the River Neris. We checked in. Our suite, consisting of two inter-leading rooms, was simple and comfortable. And we had a view over the river, with one of its bridges, spanning the southern and northern parts of the city, right opposite the hotel.

Our first stroll into town, the old part of the city, seemed like quite an adventure. Perhaps it was more like a 'mission' that we were on. Vilna didn't seem a very inviting place. The people seemed distant.

However, my first impressions were mainly of the general scenery, noticing landmarks and looking for street names.

Of course, coming from the dry, hot summer of Israel , the moisture in the air and all the greenery around was refreshing. Vilna lies more or less on the same line of latitude as Amsterdam and has a similar climate.

Old Vilna is quaint. In a sense it is reminiscent of Amsterdam. Both are not on as grand a scale as Rome or Paris , or even Riga , the capital of Latvia , with their triumphal boulevards, Arc de Triomph's, Coliseums …. Everything in Vilna is on a much smaller scale, with one or two notable exceptions, such as the immense statue of Duke Gediminas on horseback, in Cathedral Square. Gediminas founded Vilna in 1323. The Old City section of Vilna is a maze of winding walk-ways and small roads, which date back to the Middle Ages, and has a rich and mixed architectural heritage. Below, in the first footnote (*1), there is an excerpt from a longer text on the Internet about the styles of architecture that reached Lithuania : Gothic, Baroque etc.

It was striking, how clean the city was. Not even the streets in Dutch towns are as immaculate. Literally not a scrap of litter anywhere to be seen.

We had come to Lithuania to seek out remnants of what had been home to our family and a major centre of Jewish life in the world. I borrow a few lines from Michael C. Kotzin:

           "In the Old Town area of Vilnius, where the Jewish community thrived, one street is named after the Gaon, another is still called "Jew Street", and that is about it. There are no explanations of why those streets have those names or why the Jews themselves are no longer there. There are no plaques or markers where the destroyed synagogues or other institutions formerly stood." *2) (click here for the link to Kotzin's article)

We found the present Jewish Community Centre, at Pylimo 4, a complex of buildings which had been Jewish-owned before the War and have recently been restored to the Jewish Community. In all of Lithuania there remain approximately 6,500 Jews today. And  we found the only surviving shul in Vilna, a simple but beautiful structure, with an impressive archway above smaller arches, and the main entrance within these. The gold-painted letters above the entrance reads:

"כי ביתי בית תפילה יקרא לכל העמים"  ("As My House, House of Prayer, will call unto all the Nations"). 

In the shul we met a number of elderly men from the small congregation. Joseph Fisher was one of them. Now in his 80s, he was born in Mazheik and was with the partisans during the war. He told us that there was nothing to be seen in Mazheik. The town had been destroyed. All the Jews had been taken to a location outside the town and slaughtered. There were no records of any kind.

Vilna is charmingly beautiful, but seemed so cold. My experience was undoubtedly overshadowed by my nagging sense that this was the place where my ancestors had been tormented and humiliated, by knowledge of the gruesome atrocities that  had been perpetrated in this part of the world… But it is true that there was not often a smile on the faces of the people in the streets. The atmosphere was severe … austere … in such stark contrast to the warmth and richness of the amber that is found in this part of the world, the millions of years-old tree-resin that has petrified into a hard, translucent substance, ranging in colour from golden oranges to deep reds. Also known as Tiger's Soul or Petrified Light, it has a warm glow within. In Lithuanian folklore, it is considered to offer protection to those that bear it.

 In the two weeks that we spent in the Baltic States, we drove two and a half thousand kilometers and visited many different places. When I look back to Lithuania, I see a wonderland of wooded regions. Lakes and rivers … the Baltic Sea and sand dunes, silver birch forest … oak … chestnut, and so many more I don't know the names of.

And I see a country strewn with mass graves.

For hundreds of years Lithuanian and general Baltic history had been tumultuous. The original pagan tribes had been subjugated time and again. Marauding German Knights from this or that order … Teutonic… Livonian … ransacked and looted.

Denmark, Ivan III of Moscow … others …  plundered and murdered the pagans. Tribes disappeared. The population shrank time and again. In the 1300s they saved themselves from probable extinction by adopting the Catholic faith.

Much later, the Baltic States suffered badly at the hands of the Tsars of Imperial Russia, and in more recent times, there was Soviet-Russian conquest to contend with, which came after Lithuanian collaboration with Hitler Germany. (see footnote *3))

For the Jewish communities throughout the country these were surely the darkest of times ever. Today there is little trace of what once were thriving centres. Bustling Jewish life had been reduced to ashes.

On our way out of Vilna, we looked for the Tomb of the Vilna Gaon, Rav Eliyahu, who lived from 1720 to 1797. Perhaps it was providence that kept us from "finding it." Subsequent research on the Internet showed, that following Soviet destruction of the original site, confusion surrounds the actual burial place (see footnote *4)). My research has not been extensive, however. There may be conflicting evidence as regards who was first responsible for the destruction, the Germans or the Soviets.

It was also our intention to visit the killing fields of Paneriai, outside Vilna, where 100,000 were butchered and interred, of whom 70,000 were Jews. The exact numbers will never be known. (see footnote *5)

We thought we would go to Paneriai upon our return to Vilna, after travelling through Lithuania and the other two Baltic States, before our return flight to Israel.

Though always overshadowed by a sense of the grim past, there were also positive aspects to our trip and being in Lithuania. There were highlights along the way, such as Drushkininkai, in the south of the country. The woods there are quite magical, as are the hot mineral waters. In the woods along River Nemunas, there is a stone structure with special taps where folks stop for a drink of warm mineral water. Nearby is a mineral bath-house – nothing like what I had been expecting to find in Drushkininkai. In a big concrete structure there are long rows of bath tubs, each one partitioned off on three sides, with on the open side a female nurse running up and down checking up on all the bathers. Every 3 to 4 minutes she would pop by to ask if I was "almost okay." It was a quickening experience.  The water is mineral-rich and iodine-coloured. One is allowed to bathe for a maximum of fifteen minutes, after which they let out the old water to prepare for the next customer.

Drushkininkai is a resort area with spa's, which are known as sanatoria. In Soviet days the party elite would come here for their cure-vacations. It is also where the internationally renowned Jewish sculptor Jacques Lipschitz was born. It is difficult, however, if not impossible, to find an official Lithuanian website that mentions this fact. They do tell you, though, that the Lithuanian artist Ciurlionis lived and worked in Drushkininkai.

On our way to the place where Mom was born, Mazeikiai, Mazheik in Yiddish, we made a few other stops. Kovne (the name in Yiddish, Kaunas in Lithuanian) was one. This is one of the places my grandmother sometimes spoke about. My Uncle Archie, Mom's brother, was born there.

Kovne seemed to have more of a buzz. A little more vibrant a city, the Rivers Nemunas and Neris converge in Kovne. It is home to some very beautiful Gothic and Baroque architecture, but also to the much larger than life-sized sculpture, opposite the Russian Orthodox Cathedral. It is of a naked youth, arms outstretched, symbolizing freedom. This sculpture caused a furore among ordinary, 'modestly-inclined' folks.

Also once a place of vibrant Jewish life, Kovne has very little of anything Jewish today. A little granite column with engraved Magen David stands where once the entrance to the Jewish ghetto had been.

 We found the only surviving shul in Kovne, an interesting wooden structure, painted blue. It was closed. In big letters, on one side, it, too, had the Hebrew words:

"כי ביתי בית תפילה יקרא לכל העמים"  

( 'special effects photo' by Stan)

Fort IX is located just off the Kovne freeway, outside the city. It is one of what had been a series of city fortifications around Kovne, built by Imperial Russia and converted by the Nazis into a place of detention and extermination.

(Mom at the Fort)

 The remaining high, red brick walls and towers encompass what was a prison complex  -- detention areas are now a museum – they echo the shouts and screams of torture. On one of the walls, scores of photographs hang, each one of a different monument somewhere in Lithuania, bearing silent witness to the slaughter of Jewish populations. On another wall there is a memorial to the Japanese diplomat, Chiune Sugihara, who helped save the lives of many hundreds of Jews from Nazi hands before it was too late. 

"In the course of human existence, many people are tested. Only a few soar as eagles and achieve greatness by simple acts of kindness, thoughtfulness and humanity. This is the story of a man and his wife who, when confronted with evil, obeyed the kindness of their hearts and conscience in defiance of the orders of an indifferent government. These people were Chiune and Yukiko Sugihara who, at the beginning of World War II, by an ultimate act of altruism and self-sacrifice, risked their careers, their livelihood and their future to save the lives of more than 6,000 Jews. This selfless act resulted in the second largest number of Jews rescued from the Nazis. " (see footnote *6)  

Just outside the red brick walls, here at Fort IX, a grave with the remains of 50,000 Jews lies …  testimony to unimagined horrors.

(part of the mass grave where an estimated 50,000 perished) 

We left that place of horror ..  we drove to the coast. The switch from atmospheres of depravity to special sea air was unreal .. 

At Palanga, the combination of Baltic sand dunes along the coast, and forests of pine, oak, silver birch, chestnut ...  is magic … a tingling energy pervades this region ... radiant in a gentle way. And the woods were full of mushroom at that time of the year ~ people, sometimes goblin-like, were filling baskets with them .. and sitting on the sides of roads, offering them to passers-by. 

We made our way by ferry-boat from Kleipeda (known as Memel, when under German rule) to the Curonian Spit, which is a belt or strip of sand, no less than one half and no more than four kilometres wide. It links Lithuania to Russian Kaliningrad (formerly Konigsberg). In effect, the Spit cuts off quite a big corner of the Baltic Sea and creates an inner lake. Before the forests were cut down, the Spit must have had a very special energy. A German geographer wrote in 1809 : " … the Curonian Spit is so peculiar that if you don't want your soul to be missing a wonderful impression, you really must see it..." (see footnote *7)

And there is a lot of amber to be had at Nida, on the Spit.

From there we made a telephone call to Mom's sister, Helen, in Johannesburg.  I don't recall exactly what Mom said Helen had said to her, something like: "Lithuania was always a place that people left … how strange, that you have gone back there…". Helen is the third and last of my Grandparents' three children, ten years Mom's junior and named after their Grandmother, my great-Grandmother, Hene-Leah.  

And back there we certainly were, or almost ... Once we'd returned to the 'mainland' from the Spit, we carried on to Mazeikiai ...  ... ...

(Mom outside the Shtetl Mozek ~Mazheyk~ August 2000)

It is close to the border with Latvia, in the north. This is the place where Mom was born. I tried to imagine what she must have been feeling. For me it was eerie. There are very few old houses in Mazeikiai. Most of the old infrastructure has been wiped out. The old town is no longer there. Mazheik today is a maze of streets and structures which sprang up during Soviet occupation, with no obvious town planning. It has the largest oil refinery in the country, and a lot of brand new 'niveau riche' villas have been built, sort of haphazardly.

We knew that there was a Jewish Monument somewhere in Mazheik, but we couldn't find anything and left. I believe for the three of us it is true to say we found ourselves in a mental haze of disbelief and pain .. We had not approached a single soul in Mazheik. Somehow we couldn't bring ourselves to do that. Was it unfair or irrational to be thinking : "Had that old man on the street corner slit our family's throats?" Now, as I write these words, several months down the line, being in that place had a nightmarish quality. It is now almost as if I had never really been there. The closest we came to having some kind of proof that we were actually there, are the postcards that Stan put into a mailbox in Mazheik. Nor did we imagine that we were soon to be there again!

Our next stop, close to Mazheik, was Zagare where my Dad Aaron and his brother Norman were born.  

(return to top where Zagare is first mentioned)

As natural as synchronicity may seem, it can not help but amaze one that Mom and Dad's families were from little towns in Lithuania, which were geographically just a few miles apart. In that far-off place 'across seas,' the families had never had contact. Yet years later, many thousands of miles away, in Johannesburg, South Africa, Mom and Dad met and were married.

Zagare is a charming, sleepy village, close to the Latvian border. It goes back 700 years. The River Svete wends its way through the little town. 

There is very little sign of modernization in Zagare – it has probably looked the same for hundreds of years..

On the road leading out of the town, we spotted a road sign with the following words: ZYDU-GENOCIDO AUKU KAPAVIETE. We drove on a narrow country path into the woods, and there in the distance, surrounded by trees, stood a memorial …

... tombstone-like, thick concrete, with a plaque. It read in Yiddish, Hebrew and Lithuanian: 3000 people from the Shavel (Siauliai in Lithuanian) region, in Yiddish: שאוול, had been massacred and buried there. I placed a few stones I'd brought with me from Israel among the moist weeds of the patch that is the mass grave.

For what sinister and macabre reason did the murderers shift Jewish populations to regions far from where they originated, to kill them?

We then drove across the border into Latvia and on to Yurmala, near Riga.

We had been told that Yurmala on the Baltic was worth a visit, and we spent two nights there. It's situated in a wooded area on the sea and certainly does have charm. It was there that I finally found a mushroom dish in a restaurant. What with it being mushroom-picking time, how could one really get a taste of the Baltics without savouring this national food? And it was in Yurmala that we became acquainted with Riga Black Balsam, the national herb drink in Latvia. Prepared accord to a legendary, secret family recipe, it is bound to drive winter cold and infection out of anyone! One evening in Yurmala, I felt a cold come on, without warning and with a vengeance. With food, I gulped down a big quantity of the stuff. It felt as if I needed to be carried back to the hotel. But the next morning I felt as right as rain, with a perfectly clear head.

After Yurmala we particularly enjoyed visiting Riga, though quite briefly. By this time we'd become accustomed to the lack of warmth of the people in the Baltics. I'll talk for myself in saying that the people were cold. They had icy expressions in their eyes and seemed to look straight through one. This is a generalization I am prepared to make.

In Riga it was a little different. Riga is a bustling metropolis. It has an air of the type of grandeur West European capitals have, with the boulevards and grand architecture to match. People seemed to be friendlier and a little more open. Though a Jewish memorial we visited was a jolting reminder that the fate Latvian Jews had met had been no less horrific than those of their neighbours and cousins in the South. At 25 Gogola Street stand the ruins of the shul that had been packed with Jews from the area and torched.

My mind kept on flashing on Bobba's cousins in Riga. In the distant past she'd particularly talked about her beloved cousin Raisa.

We had also found and visited the Jewish Community Centre and Museum of Riga on Skola Street, in the centre of the city. Pictures from once-thriving Latvian Jewish communities fill the walls of exhibition areas. What stands out in my mind is a show cabinet with remnants of Torah Scrolls from around the country. The burned edges were telling.

Was it also providence, that certified guide Jevgénija Rastopcina approached us?! She led us to the person who explained how to find the Jewish cemetery and holocaust memorial of Mazheik ~ he scribbled on a scrap of paper "mass grave on the way to Telsiai," and drew a little map indicating the spot just outside city-limits. We knew then that we would be returning to Možek.

Nothing in Riga could dispel the lingering and all-pervasive sense of cruelty and destruction that had befallen the Jews of this part of the world. Not the sense of vibrant life all around. Not the charming restaurants and coffee parlours. Though these do conjure up a feeling of other-worldliness. We had coffee and cakes in an establishment in the centre of town … somewhat grand, up-scale, with a piano player in the background, softly filling the air with sentimental melodies…

Jevgénija had also mentioned the shul of Riga to us, which we had already found in our guide books and were going to visit, the one and only remaining House of God in that city. She explained how to find the entrance at the back, by following a narrow, quaint alley-way around the shul itself and other, adjacent buildings. There too, above the main entrance, which is locked when there are no services, appear the Hebrew words:

"כי ביתי בית תפילה יקרא לכל העמים"

In the vestry of the shul we found Isaac Kobol, who appeared to be general care-taker. A very gentle soul, soft-spoken with the saddest of eyes, he showed us the shul with its beautiful 'Aron Kodesh' or Holy Ark. 

Isaac Kobol told us about two recent fire-bomb attacks on the shul. But it seemed to me that if it had survived the waves of destructive attacks of the War era ... perhaps Providence had cut out its eternal niche in history ... 

From Riga we drove further north … through Latvia, sometimes with a view of the Baltic Sea to the west … and always through forest and wooded areas … As in Lithuania, it was mushroom-picking time … people sat on the sides of the roads with baskets full of wild mushrooms … and in the towns along the way, at places we stopped for a drink, there was not a smile on the faces of those who helped us. We were filled with a sense of oppression. Twice, once in Lithuania and once in Latvia, Police had pulled us over, once being fined. We sometimes found it impossible to understand the traffic signs and what the speed limits might have been. In certain areas a 30 kph sign would appear on the side of the road … and so we drove fairly long distances at this menacingly slow pace, too paranoid to 'disobey,' not knowing if  or when there would be a new sign ahead, cancelling the limit. Our guide books had warned us that it is perfectly normal to get pulled over in Latvia and Lithuania … in fact, "Expect it!" Something was mentioned about bribery, too, to the effect that it's fairly common to offer the 'apprehending authority' a fat reward of some kind, and get 'let off.' But I've never managed to develop or get to understand the mechanics of this particular social skill … and wasn't about to start teaching myself in the Baltic States.

We made it across the border into Estonia and carried on driving north. It was always with a sense of trepidation that we approached border crossings, waiting for customs officials to approach the car, hoping to get that prized passport stamp and nervously waiting for booms to open for us. But there is nothing out of the ordinary to report. To all intents and purposes, customs officials were always business-like and helpful.

Refreshment of some sort was long overdue, and so finally we found an establishment to stop at. In an incredible instant, like coming out of a bad dream, it was as if a ton of bricks had just fallen from our shoulders when the girl who helped us actually smiled and was kind. There were other smiling faces around. Happy music filled the air.

Through reading the guidebooks, I discovered that these people are quite different to the Lithuanians and Latvians. Estonians are related to the Finns and do not have the same pagan origins. Their language is Finno-Ugric. Only by 'geographic and historic coincidence' have they been grouped together with Lithuania and Latvia as the three Baltic States, not by ethnicity or culture, though they had suffered a similar fate of conquest and subjugation at the hands of the German Knights and later the Danes and Swedes and Russians … and, later yet, the Soviets …, though the history I have sketched here is superficial and there is very much more to it.

Before our trip we'd been told that Tallinn, the Estonian capital, is magnificent. We were advised not to miss it. And the several hours-drive from Riga to Tallinn had well been worth it! Tallinn is unlike anything I can remember having seen in the past. It's architecture is very different, breath-takingly so. And it's people are far more friendly and warm than anywhere else in the Baltics.

Tallinn is alive and bustling. Much of the different prevailing atmosphere, as opposed that that of the other two Baltic States, is due to the fact that Finns have always visited Estonia in big numbers, even in Soviet times. Not only because they are related to the Estonians, but also because everything has always been very much cheaper in Estonia, particularly alcohol.

Tallinn is colourful. Lining a main street leading into the Old Town are many little florist kiosks, each one with more beautifully arranged flowers than the next. There is a permanent arts and crafts fair on the main square of Old Town, with some lovely porcelain and linen and more. Exclusive restaurants abound, Estonian, Russian, Indian … Turning into each alley-way was a delight of exquisite architecture with ancient thresholds and sculpted edifices. Unlike the architecture in major Lithuanian and Latvian towns, here the architecture is robust, but at the same time quaint, often painted in rich rust and ochre shades. Beautiful lanterns are strategically placed. Truly a sight for sore eyes.  

See below for a link to a beautifully presented site on the history of Tallinn (see footnote *8).

And so we'd come to the end of our trek northward, feeling elated that we had decided to drive all the extra hundreds of kilometers to get to see Tallinn. We'd had a magnificent view from our high room in a modern and most welcoming hotel-skyscraper. In fact, the television screen in our room had a message from hotel management, welcoming the Ravinsky Family. The buffet breakfasts in the dining room had been extensive and excellent, with literally everything one's heart desired, in big quantities, stylishly presented and tastefully prepared.

Thank you, Tallinn! Actually, throughout our stay in the Baltic countries, we had encountered much the same style and scale of breakfast … even in the far simpler hotels, there was always much fresh food to choose from.

It was time to head on south.

On our way back south, through Estonia, we stopped at the town Pärnu, famous for its hot mineral waters and spa's. We sipped at coffee on a town square, where a crowd had gathered. Ordinary folks from the area got the opportunity to get up behind a microphone to speak about themselves. We listened to an ex-American, who had come to Estonia many years previously and married an Estonian woman. By their warm reactions, it seemed that the crowd was very proud of him. To me it seems that such a scene in Lithuania or Latvia would be an impossibility.

We were sorry to have to leave Estonia and head back into the territory of its austere southern neighbours. But we knew that we had to go back to Možek. Without having done so, our 'mission' would not have been complete or successful. And besides, we were to fly back to Israel from Vilna.

Back in Riga we strolled through some of the streets in Old Town, which we hadn't had time for on our rushed, previous visit. Here, once again, the outstanding architecture is Gothic and Baroque. The spires with oxidized, green copper roofs add to Riga's architectural charm. We found a charming hotel room in the centre of Old Riga, overlooking the impressive Opera building.

The next day we crossed back into Lithuania.

Thinking of going back to Mozheik, I'm reminded of the musical 'Fiddler on the Roof,' and the words from the song 'Anatevka': "Soon I'll be a stranger in a strange new place, searching for an old, familiar face…."

Here we were, going back to that old place. I found myself thinking about that "old, familiar face…." Imagine seeing one, I thought …

We found the sign: "ZYDU GENOCIDO AUKU VIETA" on the side of one of the roads leading into town.

 A narrow driveway took us into dense woods. I wanted to proceed. I wanted to flee. What terrible place was this that we were entering? The energy of the violence and abominations hang in the air there.   

A large stone with plaque lies in front of two grassy areas surrounded by low iron fences. Broken bits and pieces lie scattered ~~ three stones have been preserved ~~ the names in Hebrew are legible: 

Shlomo Bar Elchanan Friedlander;

 Lotta Rabinovitz (died in 1938) ~~

A third stone with Hebrew letters lies there ~ the first name, Rachel, is legible ...

And here, too, lies my great grandmother, Henne-Leah Lubavitsch-Friedman. She had died in 1930. No trace of the loving memorial that had once stood there. (See the Lubavitsch-Lubavicz family picture - in this picture below, from left to right : Berre, Mirjasha, Tirze ~later Tilly, in South Africa~ Esther and Yoseph Itzikson.)  

Suddenly I heard voices. My heart sank down into my shoes.

Two boys on a bicycle, perhaps on their way to swim in the nearby Venta River. A little later a car drove into the woods where we were. Again, my heart sank. A man with two children, on their way to swim in the river. 

Next to the cemetery we found a memorial to 4000 Jews and the mass grave of those who had been butchered there. Engraved in granite, in Yiddish and Lithuanian, it states that they had been "of other nationality." (See  The Holocaust  ~ "With the Jews of Mazeikiai were murdered the Jews of Sede (Siad in Yiddish), Viekshniai  (Veckshna in Yiddish), Tirksliai (Tirkshla in Yiddish), Zidikai (Shidik in Yiddish), Pikeliai (Pikeln in Yiddish), Klykoliai (Klilul in Yiddish) and other towns.")

And next to this site, we saw a number of Christian graves, of those who were considered by the Nazis and/or their sympathizer-collaborators to have cooperated with the 'enemy.' We trusted that this was indeed the case ~ that there had been a spark of righteousness in that dark night.   

I placed some stones from Israel on the site … lit a candle … said a prayer.

We had a long drive back to Vilna before night-fall. Almost two weeks had passed since we arrived in Lithuania. And we had just one more night in Vilna, before going home. There were still places we wanted to stop at on the way. One of them was שאוול (Shavel; Siauliai in Lithuanian). Mom remeberred that Bobba had often mentioned this place. And the Jews who had been murdered in Žagare, the place where my Dad was born, had come from שאוול. On the way there we passed Viekšniai (in Yiddish: Vekshne), which had also been mentioned by Bobba.

We stopped in Shavel. When we carried on driving in the city, we passed a Jewish memorial.

It is no exaggeration ... This Lithuania is truly a land strewn with mass graves ... 

In Shavel the same glassy, cold eyes followed us wherever we went. We found ourselves drinking down coffee and eating Lithuanian pancakes. We then continued on the road, driving through Panevezys (in Yiddish: Ponevez), which I remember often having been mentioned by Bobba. By then it was getting dark. One last place we passed, which had significance, was Ukmerge. Ronit Berz's father had come from there. Ronit's brother is married to my cousin Bernice, in Johannesburg.  

And so … the road led back to Vilna and to the same hotel on the Neris River. There we were. Two-and-a-half thousand kilometers later. Again we called Mom's sister, Helen, in Johannesburg. There was something unreal about this. Mom and Helen's mother and father and two other sisters had left Lithuania in 1927, while those who remained were headed for destruction. And there we were, in 1999, making a phone call from that place, the first from our family ever to have gone back to Lithuania.

During the time left to us in Lithuania we took it easy. We strolled around the Old Town of Vilna … going back to a restaurant we had liked, not far from Gediminas' statue on Cathedral Square. We made a point of visiting the monument honouring the Japanese diplomat,  Chiune Sugihara, and paid tribute to this man of compassion and humanity, and we went to see the Frank Zappa statue.

(memorial to Chiune Sugihara)

And so it was time to leave. Velvel, our Yiddish-speaking cabby, picked us up and took us to the airport.

As always, time had flown. But we had seen and done so very much in that time. And there was much that we had not seen, including Pannerai. But I, for one, was filled with a sense of the whole trip as a pilgrimage to honour those who perished. A circle had drawn to a close. Descendents of those who were murdered have been back to the once so-loved home,"aheim".... I feel a sense of peace.

Even though we still do not know where our family was taken to, before being killed - perhaps they were actually killed at the site of the mass grave in Mazeikiai - and it is possible that with more extensive research we may have been able to find out more - but all of Lithuania is a graveyard ... So many small towns in Lithuania and Latvia have mass graves and memorials to massacred Jews. Testimony to a past of wholesale desecration and depravity.

A candle is lit, … stones from Israel laid on Lithuanian soil….       

"כי ביתי בית תפילה יקרא לכל העמים"  

Blessed Be The Memory Of Those Who Perished.

Footnotes:

*1)