Rebbetzin Chana’s Memoirs: Our Last Bite of Bread
In this 16th installment of the series, Rebbetzin Chana describes how she had given away her last bites of bread to a starving Jew.
Our last bite of bread
The severe weather, the food shortages and poor living conditions mentioned above contributed to the continued spread of the typhus epidemic; the results for those stricken with the illness were more often negative than positive.
We became close with a certain Jewish deportee who would visit us. Although his wife and daughter joined him, it didn’t improve his situation, and he remained unemployed.
I didn’t do that out of the goodness of my heart. Seeing his face meant you just couldn’t think of acting any differently, and felt compelled to give away your last bite of bread.On one of his visits, I noticed that his face was swollen and jaundiced from starvation (may we never see this). When he noticed a few morsels of bread on our table, he stared at them with eyes so moist that although this bread was all that we had—we had no more for the next day—nevertheless I told him to help himself and eat them.
A while later, he found employment as a watchman for the production of dried pumpkin; an important industry in that region. The work required him to stand in the fields in the cold air and fierce winds. Without taking into consideration his weak health, he went off to work, because it would enable him to receive a generous food ration that would satisfy his hunger.
He was due to return home early in the evening. But he never arrived. The next morning, his wife came to us looking for him. Without going into greater detail, he was found frozen to death on the way home from the field where he worked. His weak constitution had been unable to bear the severe cold.
Giving a Jewish burial
We were faced once again with the problem of how to provide a Jewish burial. My husband was indescribably anguished by this. Together with a Jew from Kharkov who had become very devoted to him, he went to the home of the departed Jew, which was quite far from our own home. They arranged to have the corpse carried from the fields to the home where he had lived. Despite the general shortage of water, they performed a taharah of the body.
The body was then brought to the non-Jewish cemetery, which already included an entire row of departed Jews (may G‑d protect us). The row had already been fenced off somewhat to separate the Jewish graves from the others.
Our friend from Kharkov dug the grave by himself, although he had been wealthy and was unaccustomed to such work. But, as he later told me, when he saw how deeply this affected my husband, it aroused a desire within him to accomplish this task. It was difficult for him to allow my husband to help him with this grueling work, but because of the extreme cold they had to hurry in order not to be exposed for too long to the freezing temperatures. They accomplished everything in accordance withTorah law, and concluded by reciting the Kaddish prayer.
When my husband arrived home, he wept. He was so frozen that it took him some time, and through various means, to warm up and recover.
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