ב"ה

Soviet Union, The (Former)

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Betsheva's father had taken all possible precautions to hide the illegal factory, covering its entrance with large planks of wood. But the approaching footsteps sounded like they knew where they were headed...
Zaidy embraced the Torah for the last time and gently laid it, in its wooden case, under a tree. He lifted his young child in his arms and journeyed on through the forest
"How would I obtain oil and wicks in a sealed-off prison cell? And even if I did get them, how would I hide them from the guards?"
I remember the day in September of 1989 when I walked out of my home in Saratov into the unknown future.
Every single event, factor and statistical analysis with absolute certainty would predict my future to be the exact opposite of what it is today.
As the Siberian winter deepened, Chanukah came, and a group of young Jewish prisoners convened for a short meeting.
World War II had finally come to an end. My family was back from Siberia, where we had spent most of the war years . . .
We are getting ready for the New Year at school. There is a huge Christmas tree in the auditorium, decorated with balls and garlands. During the day we practice for the end-of-year concert, where I play a “snowflake”—just like all the other Russian girls....
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Yankel, a rabbi from the town of Zhuravitz, had made the 1,200-kilometer journey to bring some much-needed holiday cheer.
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