MITL - A TALE INSPIRED BY TRUE EVENTS

My grandmother Amália was sick in the hospital, very weak, with a feeble memory. I came to visit her, we tried to talk, and luckily she remembered me. But hardly enough. Most of her recollections would dwell in an early past. At some point she said the word "Mitl". I asked her again and she repeated: "Mitl, mitl...” And then fell back to deep sleep.

I had never heard this word before. What could it mean? Grandma spoke Yiddish, so it could be a Yiddish word. Or maybe the name of a relative?  A special recipe from Bessarabia her mom used to cook?

I asked my mom, daughter of grandma. Never heard about Mitl. Asked my dad, known as the family scholar, and also a Yiddish speaker. Never heard it either. What secrets could possibly lie under this mysterious word?

I went for the first resource mankind goes for when faced with an unanswerable question: Google. But I'm pretty sure Amália was not referring to a networks corporation, a tennis league or stock exchange group. 

I called my uncle and aunts. I called grandma's two sisters. I called cousins. I asked the Rabbis. Nothing. Who was this Mitl? I was by then convinced it was a person. Maybe grandma's first love? Or somebody she really liked? Or lived a tragedy with? Or her favorite pet?

But wait. Could it be that I heard it wrong? Grandma was weak and her voice frail. Maybe was it Motl? I looked it up on the internet. Motl is the abbreviation for March of the Living. But I doubt Amália was referring to this event on her hospital bed. I started researching all possible variations, but couldn't reach a satisfactory resolution.

Then I reached out to genealogy groups. These are great people. If they don't know something, they know somebody who does. But even they could not help me. 

Next week I went back to the hospital. Amália didn't say a word. She would just look at my shirt, like trying to read something. "Vlei"she said. I looked at my shirt: it read "fly". It was then I realized! Mitl was not a person, a pet or some dish from Bessarabia, where her family had come from. The day I first visited Amália I had a shirt and on it was written "Midtown". I bought it because it was the name of the neighborhood I used to live in Los Angeles. Well, grandma couldn't speak or read English, so "Midtown" became... MITL! She was just reading my shirt all along.

So, if you ever have a Jewish Brazilian grandmother at the hospital saying "Mitl", it could just be your shirt.

By the way, Amália is already out of the hospital, recovering just fine. I haven't told her this story yet.

CHISINAU-PORTO ALEGRE (and vice-versa)

My grandparents lived in Chisinau, Moldova. I was born and lived in Porto Alegre, Brazil.

I have recently traveled to both cities in 2012 and strangely noticed they share some similarities:

1) Dwindling Jewish community
Brazil never had a big Jewish community, but in Porto Alegre's state, Rio Grande do Sul, it has diminished from 12 to 7 thousand. Nobody is sure of why, but some point out that many young people are leaving. The same goes for Chisinau, that once had a huge, vibrant community, destroyed during the Holocaust and just now trying to get restructured. But it's still small.

2) Struggling economy
Brazil is one of the new leading countries in world economy, part of the "BRIC" (Brazil, Russia, India, China). But it has many political and social problems, and its vast resources are not yet being shared with most of the population. Chisinau is Moldova's capital, the poorest country in Europe. People are overwhelmed and tired by political corruption.

3) Urbanism
Both cities have sidewalks with cobblestones, twisted alleys, local and small grocery stores, old abandoned buildings, and a small (almost) international airport. The geography and architecture is a bit similar.

4) A predominant leftist ideology
Leftist politics have been popular in Porto Alegre for a long time, as well as Chisinau, which has a ruling communist party.

5) Atmosphere
No, not the quality of air. It's rather something you feel and see. People walking in the streets, cars, stores, buildings, humidity, heat, cold. I don't know if I'm dreaming of all these connections, but to me they seem true.

CHISINAU

REVISITING FIMA

It was just now in December 2011 that I read only for the second time some of the translation of the letters my father's first cousin from Moldova, Fima, sent to him in Brazil in 1991. The first time I read them I didn't have any notion of family ancestry as I was about 15 years-old. Fima was still alive with much information about the Tolpolars. Some he shared with us, some I believed were buried with him.

Fima was the last direct family member to leave the Soviet Republic of Moldova and move to Israel. Because of that, much of the recent information we find about our ancestors are related to him and his impressive life story. He fought in World War II in the Soviet army, got hurt and was taken to a Moscow hospital, that's how he survived the war. He returned to Moldova to find all of his family killed, and it is said he was set to find some of the killers. We don't know for sure what happened on his journey, but that in the 90's he was exchanging letters with my father. He would write in Hebrew/Yiddish and my dad in English. I'm sure some was lost in the translation on both sides.

What caught my attention was that Fima wrote the 8 Tolpolar brothers and sisters loved and cared about each other. That my grandfather taught him Yiddish, that he had raised a fortune working for 45 years as a high ranking lawyer but had to leave everything to the Russians when he moved to Israel. The letters reveal a sad and nostalgic Fima, but incredibly excited to connect with my father. In his words, he and my dad were the last of the Bessarabian (male) Tolpolars.


These two men finally met in 1994 for a few hours only, in Israel. I dare to say this meeting was historic, a meeting between cousins who never met but were always so close. Unfortunately I was not there. Fima passed in 2000. At that point, Israel, Bessarabia, immigration, and my own ancestry were things I could not completely comprehend. It was beyond my reach.

I never met Fima, but I still have my father's memories and Fima's direct family in Israel. I'm sure that, in different levels, Fima lives in all of us.

HONORING THOSE FROM BESSARABIA

We are looking for old pictures from people and shtletls in Moldova/Bessarabia to put in the end of Mamaliga Blues as a way to honor other families with the same origin as ours. Footage from these places are also very welcome. I understand this kind of material may be very emotional/personal, especially when releasing it to third parties. So if you are interested in sharing these and have any questions/concerns on the usage of such, please let me know.

Thank you!