Jews making trouble
Over the past week, I have been in Latvia and Lithuania to return to the sites of the murders of family members during the Holocaust.
When I described the trip to my husband Zed, I confessed that I was daunted to the point of nausea.
‘I will be visiting killing fields. I am going as a tourist to places which have Jewish blood soaked into the earth.’
How can I stay in a nice hotel and enjoy a continental breakfast?
Do I greet the concierge with a friendly smile before taking off for the beach on which people were stripped bare and shot, six at a time on a plank, before being kicked into mass graves?
In Rumbula forest near Riga, on 30 November and 8 December 1941, 25 000 Jews were shot and buried in a mass grave.
In Zagare, the hometown of my grandparents, in Naryshkin Park, her parents and sisters and all their children were murdered and buried in a mass grave. Some were summoned and shot in the market square, so many, that blood flowed through the streets.
In the coastal town of Leipaja, in the central Rainis park and on the remote Skede beach, eight of my grandfather’s family members were massacred.
It all felt like too much. How could I possibly bear it?
And Zed, said, ‘Just take it one pogrom at a time.’
And there it was – the moment of respite, in the bitterle gelechte (Yiddish for ‘bitter laughter) I needed.
It reminded me of a joke my father used to tell of Hymie and Chonie lined up to be executed by the Gestapo when Hymie starts shouting, ‘Hitler is a dog, may he rot in hell,’ and Chonie turns to his friend and says, ‘Hymie, please, don’t make trouble.’
Another friend described this trip as a ‘pogromage,’ as I have returned to each of these places over the past few days, including Salispils near Riga, a concentration camp, now the site of enormous, moving sculptures.
My cousin Sam, whom I have met only once or twice before decades ago, but who has fed me all the reseach I have needed, flew in from London yesterday to meet me in Liepaja, say Kaddish, the Jewish memorial prayer for the dead and light memorial candles and sing Jewish songs of hope and peace.
She reminded me that during those times, Jews were forbidden from walking on the beaches.
And so we walked, arm in arm as free people in the biting wind.
Amidst all of this, there has been so much love, joy and delight, especially from my time in Zagare, which I will share in more detail when I am home - it has been difficult to try and write on the road.
Please know, I am strong, I am full, I am feeling so alive, so richly blessed.
It has been a privilege to make this journey.
Joanne, what a painful privilege to walk the path of your ancestors.
I've been following quietly through your writing.
Thank you for sharing your journey with us.
I can't imagine the depth of emotion you're experiencing.
Thank you for having the strength to carry the past into your present. 🙏
You have been in my thoughts, I look forward to your continued sharing as you process this extraordinary pogromage. Sending tight hugs xxx