Rebbetzin Chana’s Memoirs: Pesach in Exile
In this 7th installment of the series, Rebbetzin Chana describes her and Reb Levik‘s first Passover in exile. Forced by their Tatar hosts to move out of their home, they moved in with a non-Jewish woman for 50 rubles a month. The room was considered to be “luxury” because it had a floor, but the cots they had to sleep on were infested with roaches.
Two weeks before Passover and nowhere to live
As Passover approached, new problems arose. The house was full of chametz1 and, living at such close quarters with the owners, we couldn’t avoid having it nearby. Thinking that the Tatar owners, observant of their own religion, might sympathize with our predicament, we mentioned it to them. They, however, didn’t seem to understand what we were talking about, and were upset most of all by any extra bucket of water we used.2 In short order, they ordered us harshly to vacate the premises!
Oh, how distressing it was for us to have to wander around just two weeks before Passover, looking for a place to live, especially considering the problems common to all local houses. I have little desire to write about all this.
Briefly, not far from our residence lived a non-Jewish woman, whose home had an extra room with its own entrance, something quite uncommon there. It even had a wooden floor, which was especially rare. Very fond of money, she agreed to rent us this room for fifty rubles a month. Her children, though, were hooligans, and everyone warned us they would be impossible to live with. Having no other choice, however, we agreed to move in.
A week before Passover, we loaded all our baggage onto a cart and brought it to the new apartment. It was very difficult to watch my husband—together with a fellow deportee—hauling it all.
The landlady provided us with two cots, but they were so infested with roaches that it was impossible to clean them out, making it very difficult to sleep on them.
With a concerted effort, I tried to create a festive spirit, as befitting the approaching Yom Tov.
The Festival of Freedom—in exile
On my trip to Chi’ili, I had brought two new pails [for Passover use], which I had finally managed to buy after standing in line3 for an entire day. During the journey, however, they had disappeared, as could be expected. I sent telegrams to Moscow and Yekaterinoslav4 about the loss, but they could not be found. The railroad authority promised to compensate me for this with seven rubles, but to collect I would need to travel to the main office in Tashkent. As usual, this didn’t resolve the problem, and the pails were not found.
Without Passover utensils, my husband was unequivocal that he would not eat during the entire festival. I resolved to do something about it.
schneur zalman gurary
nice