A Belated Regret: The Sum Total of a Grodno Family
By Leib Reizer
http://www.jewishgen.org/Belarus/newsletters/grodno/GrodnoFamily/
Nossen Note Reizer and Bassia (nee
Lease)
Bassia was
born in 1873, she passed away in 1936 & her husband; Nossen (Note) Reizer
of Grodno, born in 1868- passed away in 1938
Leib Reizer wrote this poignant obituary for his older
brother, Nissan, in the “Grodner Opklangen”, a Yiddish newspaper published in Argentina until 1980. It
was published in Number 16, June 1966. It tells the unusual story of an early
emigrant to the Holy Land who left later for New Zealand, seeking safety for
his family in the fearful atmosphere of the Hitler-Stalin alliance.
Nissan
Reizer’s daughter, Naomi Barnett
of Melbourne, Australia- shared the pictures and her uncle’s tribute (of which
she was unaware for many years).
Translated
by Leib’s daughter, Betty Broit.
I
was barely 10 years old when my older brother Nissan, a man of about 20, was
preparing to make aliya to Israel. It was in the year 1920, just after the
Polish/Russian war. I can remember my brother standing in the front of our
small house putting together boards and building a crate for his tools. Long
twisted wooden chips fall on the ground and fill the whole forecourt with a
scent of the forest. My brother is confident and sings happily:
In
the smithy by the fire
Stands
a blacksmith and he pounds
He
blows on iron, sparks are flying
And
he sings this happy song
The
crate is finished, my brother packs inside the saws, drills, planes, chisels
and other such carpenter tools. The mother is drying rusks and preparing
preserves for my brother’s long journey. In the home there is a yontevdike atmosphere, a son is
going to Israel to help build the land and later the whole family will join him
there.
Nissan
Reizer (top row on right) with some other members of the Zionist Youth Movement
in Grodno (prior to 1920)
And
now it is after Yom Kippur and the father is busying himself by the sukkah. The night is cold and
the moon shines brightly. A heavy wagon arrives to the house, making a clatter
on the cobblestone pavement. Soon a crowd of neighbours gather around the
wagon, each one wishing my brother and each other “next year in Jerusalem.” The
mother is quietly wiping her eyes and slowly the wagon moves away on the
stony pavement. I sit on top of the wagon and the whole household slowly
follows it as it makes its way in the direction of the train station. Father
had requested that the coachman should drive around the big shul - as a tribute and
mark of respect for an easy journey....
The
train station looked like a ruin after the last battles around Grodno. And here comes the
out of breath train, covering the crowd around it with clouds of steam,
breaking the night stillness with its whistle.
The
baggage is taken onto the train, people are hugging each other and tears are
held back. The train begins to move. The youth cuts through the atmosphere with
the Hatikva... The train vanishes.
Letters
began to arrive from Warsaw and Vienna, Herzl’s memorial tomb, Franz Joseph’s
palaces, from Trieste, from the boat (a cargo boat - because it was cheaper),
and later from the holy land. My brother wrote often. His letters were
interesting -- he had inherited the writing skills from our mother, who used to
write letters for all the women in the street to their relations in America.
Mother
would wait anxiously every day by the fence for the postman to arrive, having
prepared a coin to give him. My brother’s letters were full of hope, breathing
with sunshine and joy of the land, a land that was awaking to a new life. The
house became full of photos of the Western Wall (kotel hamaaravi), of Rachel’s
tomb, King David’s tower, Mount of Zion, etc. Often my brother would enclose in
the letter an English pound, and then a yontef would be in the house. My brother
would describe with enthusiasm of his walks in the land, the new orchards, new
settlements, new kibbutzim, about the “gdud haavoda” (work brigades), the first
Jewish communes in Eretz Israel, etc.
Father
did his own thing. He continued looking and searching into the kabbala for
certain meanings and connections, and in the end discovered that the redemption
is close.... He shared his discovery with my brother in a letter to him: “this
is to inform and let you know dear son, that your cheerful letters confirm the
prediction of the redemption. The nation will G’ willing become prosperous. The
Almighty will have pity on us and will release us from our troubles (tzores). But see to it dear
son, not to dishonour the holy land, don’t desecrate the Sabbath, and do not
sin.”...
In
one of his letter my brother had enclosed one Eretz Israel cigarette for the
father. Several of the people in the synagogue held it in their hands with
great pride and emotion, smelling it like connoisseurs. The congregation had
put forward a suggestion that the father should give the cigarette as a present
to the rabbi. The rabbi held it in his hand for a while, straightened his
yarmulke, made a “shechianu” and slowly smoked it, and with great pleasure
murmured “ha, ha a taste of ‘gan eden’”.
Nissan and Ester in Palestina c 1930
Soon
after two more sons left to build Eretz Israel. The family was full of hope, as
ot ot -- but here a tragedy happened (in 1926). The younger son (Yehoshua),
while bathing in the sea by Haifa, drowned. Like thunder the news hit the whole
house. Mother didn’t stop crying “such a young victim, barely 21 years old
taken by the sea in the prime of his life.” This all the more pulled her to
travel to the Holy Land - at least to look at the tombstone of her son...
In
the meantime the situation in Eretz Israel worsened. The letters arriving told
of crisis and unemployment and of workers not being paid. It was a risk now to
bring over the family. The sparks of hope were being extinguished in the house.
The mother did not stop the mourning. But here a new casualty appeared: her
youngest son was incarcerated for political reasons. When on the second day
after his arrest she arrived to bring him food and found him in the
investigation room all beaten up she fainted. During the following couple of
years that he was in the prison she would stand every day for hours by the
prison gate, did not sleep the nights and continued crying all the time because
of the hunger strikes in the prison. The violent screams that were coming out of
the prison walls enveloped the town in fear and caused my mother and other such
mothers enormous pain and suffering. Until one night she breathed her last
painful breath. Father with dried tears in his eyes threw a few handfuls of
soil in the grave and quietly murmured “G’ gave and G’ takes” (Adonai natan
veAdonai lakach).
Several
years after mother’s death, father walked around like a shadow and continuously
reminded the now released son that he should remember to say Kaddish for his
mother. Until he too died, and with him died also the hope of the remaining
family of making aliya to Eretz Israel.
The
terrible days of the Nazi occupation drew closer. Poland was already divided in
two between the “partners” of Hitler and Stalin... Once a creased letter
arrived for the family from Eretz Israel. The older brother wrote “the Nazis
are threatening the world. Danger is spreading out. I have therefore decided to
leave with my family to a far away country that is called New Zealand, which is
a neighbour of Australia.”
Brothers; Nissan, Jehoshua and Avram
Reizer
Top
left Avram, top right Jehoshua (who actually drowned in Haifa harbour in 1926),
and my father Nissan in bottom right
Once
again years passed. Years of fire and smoke, blood and total destruction. My
remaining family was killed together with the rest of Grodno Jewry. I, the
youngest, by a miracle survived and found myself after the war in an Austrian
DP camp (Trofaiach). Around the camp were brother graves of murdered Jews.
The earth was split open. Torn prayer books and talaisim were scattered among
the rubbish and around the camp. Happy Austrians were strolling, hoping to do
business with the Jews. Young Austrian women were shamelessly offering their
bodies for cigarettes and coffee...
I
received a letter from my older brother in far away New Zealand that I should
try by all means available to get to Eretz Israel. The English Foreign Minister
- Bevan - however did everything
he could to make sure that the surviving Jews did not reach Israel... Without a
choice, I made my way to my brother in the far away land.
After
a separation of 28 years the two brothers met. I looked older than my brother.
I was grey, with a wrinkled face and the fear in my eyes had not yet vanished.
It was winter time when I arrived in the far away country. And there I found
that the trees were green, flowers bloomed, the sun with its gentle rays was caressing
my grey head and aged face. I inhaled the fresh air, looked at the green fields
with its abundant white sheep and after the destruction of Europe I found
myself enveloped in a happy contentment.
My
brother all these years tried to keep in his home the spirit of Eretz
Israel. The children besides speaking
English also spoke a good Hebrew. As a prior chalutz who gave his young
strength to Eretz Israel his abilities and ambitions were not to become an
“alrightnik”. He worked hard and quietly in his heart he carried a longing for
the Jewish state. And when the state was established his yearning grew. He put
away shilling to shilling, hoping with the small savings to be able to return
to Haifa which he left 10 years ago. But from hard work and conscience anguish
he became weak till one beautiful July day he was struck by a blood stroke in
the brain. He lay in the hospital for a long time with vacant eyes. When he was
able he leafed through Israeli journals and absorbed with his eyes the picture
of the Jewish flag that fluttered so freely.... His thoughts took him back to
where he spent his youth, the second twenty years of his life. Tears were
running down his face. He was continuously wiping his eyes with his left mobile
hand (the right side of his body was paralysed). With questioning eyes he
looked at the doctors wanting to read from their faces the condition of his
situation. The words of comfort from his friends he took with tears. Yes, not
so did he visualize his future and the future of his children, which sooner or
later will be swallowed by assimilation.
He
felt like a broken branch that was carried far from its roots and whose leaves
will wither and fade. He turned his head away from his friends who were
standing around him as though he wanted himself to take account of his life and
finish with the pain and the belated regret. But the account was already done -
his destiny was sealed: the burst blood vessel in the head atrophied the
remainder of the tissues in the brain in which to his last breath the belated
regret seethed...
Wellington,
New Zealand, 1966
March, 1959
From right; Mum (Ester Reizer),
Uncle Leib (Reizer) and Rabbi Gottschall, Hastings, New Zealand
Yad Vashem reports;
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Reizer Shlomo |
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Raizer Szlomo |
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Submitter's Last Name |
KONSTANTINOVSKI |
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Submitter's First Name |
MIRIAM |
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Other reports by MIRIAM KONSTANTINOVSKI of Yafo;
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Raizer Peli |
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Reizer Ysrael |
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Raizer Sofia |
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Raizer Lajb |
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Raizer Dina |
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