"We are Bessarabians!"

Through one of the Historians attached to Mamaliga Blues, I was able to reach Mr. Levit in New York. In his 90's, he didn't speak any English, so his son helped us out. Mr. Levit is a scholar originally from Chisinau and knew that 613 people were exterminated in the Edinitz area in July 19, 1941 - among them was Yeshaya and Sioma Tolpolar, direct relatives. He also knew of a Tolpolar in the Philosophy department of the Academy of Science of Moldova, in Chisinau in the 70's-80's. This Tolpolar was a short, young man, Mr. Levit could not remember the first name. I wonder if this could have been Volodya Tolpolar, who passed away few years before we went to Moldova in 2008.

Both Mr. Levit and his son were excited to talk. I told them about the film project, and because neither one of them has access to e-mail, I'm supposed to mail some material.

When we were saying good-bye, his son repeated several times "we are Bessarabians!". What did he want to say? I thought about it for a while. That didn't only mean they were from Bessarabia, that I knew very well. It meant, I think, that we shared a common History, me and them. They were born in Bessarabia, but I was from there as well.

REVELATIONS (The last Jew from Oliscani?)

That's how it works: one person leads you to another person who leads you to another... it goes like that until you reach a very important person who can give you invaluable information. That's how I reached Mr. Rosenthal, who was born in Oliscani, like my grandfather and his family. Mr. Rosenthal, born in 1922, now lives in Israel. He left Oliscani when he was 10 or 11 years-old. He came back in 1954, but there was no Jewish life in there anymore. Like many other villages, Jews either left or were killed during the war. 
 

Mr. Rosenthal said Oliscani was a large village, with two churches, about 7-10 thousand people. The Jewish community was small, about 25-30  families, each with a minimum of 3-4 kids, and lived primary in one street with four rows of houses. At the end of the street was a synagogue with a Yiddish Seder. There was no cemetery, people were buried in Rezina. (So why my great-grandparents were buried in Vadul Raskov???)

There was a good tradition in this village kept for years. The land was divided for housing and for agriculture, the main culture being tobacco (my great-grandparents planted tobacco). Outside the village there was reserved land, used for the newly married couples. The whole village would get together for a day of hard work and build them a new house. This helped to keep young people living in the same village, as well as increase the population.

Mr. Rosenthal remembered the Tolpolars, he said that they had a house with a big garden.

One more coincidence: in 1909 three brothers of Mr. Rosenthal's mother left for Brazil, their last name Weksler. They were very poor and all they had with them was a small bag of tobacco seeds. At that time it was possible to get in Brazil a big peace of land (1 hectare) for $1. They planted the tobacco seeds and become very successful. The place of their residence was... Porto Alegre! It so happens that my father is friends with one of the Weksler's grandson in Porto Alegre! Amazing how like has its cyclic turns.

It was hard to fall asleep the day I talked to what is probably the last Jewish living man from Oliscani.

(I would like to acknowledge the great help of Alla Feldman and Diana Gurten who helped with the translation and telling the stories.)

CHISINAU OR KISHINEV?

I was thinking about it when I posted something on the Mamaliga Blues Facebook page and accidentally wrote "Kishinev". There was an immediate response from a reader: "It is Chisinau, not Kishinev". True, how could I have made such mistake? But it didn't just happened. The Russian name of Moldova's capital is still very much alive in the memory of many who live there and those related to it somehow. Often when I talk to somebody about Chisinau, they refer it as Kishinev.

I think is is because this is still a new country, looking for an identity. A region that belonged to Romania and Russia across History now it's its own nation, but people haven't changed.

Maybe the response I got was telling me "hey, we are now a sovereign republic, please make sure of that". Kishinev belongs to the past. But still intrinsically connected to the present Moldova.

Do we have anything else in common besides genes?

After years researching your genealogical tree, spending a lot of time and effort, you finally find a long lost relative - now what?

You find that you both speak different languages, you were raised in different countries and you have different interests. The only thing in common is family. Is that enough? If sometimes even direct known relatives in a family are strangers to themselves, what to say of somebody who, after so many years, connects with you? A new family member, who can be so distant but at the same time so close.

To me, it is all a learning experience, about yourself, your family, your community and ultimately, about History. Because families were separated for a reason, because of something that nobody wanted to happen. In many cases it was war, economic difficulties, persecution, etc.

Every reunion is worth it and it represents a little miracle. Because a reunion with a long lost relative is not only about finding a common ground, but also knowing more about life.

OUR LAST DAY IN MOLDOVA

April 10th consisted of a morning walk around Chisinau, a few more footage shooting and a meeting with the folks at KSAK, the Art Center. 

street fair in Chisinau

Melina stares at Moldovan dolls

On this day, Natasha could not be with us, so she sent her son Grigory, who did a great job replacing his mom.

In the afternoon we headed to Cricova, one of the amazing underground wineries, where besides having wine tasting, we saw the one of the oldest wine in the world (1902), from Jerusalem. Its actual price is 300 thousand dollars. They said the France prime minister wanted to buy it, but at the end Cricova's winery did not want to sell it. They have an amazing collection of old wines, it's like a museum.

Jewish wine

Our Moldovan tour guide at Cricova sat next to us and asked where I was from. When I said "Brazil", he said he had a friend from Brazil who used to live in the US, he was from Porto Alegre and was an Internacional fan. What are the odds: same hometown, same soccer team fan. Small world.

In the evening we went to the Seder at the Jewish center, and blended a little with the Jewish community. We were happy to see Marina Shraibman once more. The Jewish community struggles for a revival of its once vibrant past, but as some said, it is nowadays less spiritual, more about business - and divided into different interests groups.

Marina (to the left) at the Seder

The short trip ended at the same restaurant where my father, sister and I ate in our last night in 2008. It's a small and simple place, but with great food. I had cheese and honey pancakes, Lara had varenikes, we shared it with Melina.

Our plane was leaving at 6AM the next morning. We came back to the hotel to pack and organize ourselves. That was it. Goal accomplished. Vadul Raskov, Chisinau, interviews, etc. It was fast, difficult, but worthwhile.

We arrived in Los Angeles exhausted. It's time to continue working on the documentary.

AROUND CHISINAU IN A DAY

We started April 9th by driving around Chisinau and going to spots related to its Jewish history that we hadn't been in 2008: the Chuflinksii square, where the riots that culminated in the 1903 pogrom started, the old Jewish hospital, where the wounded were taken in the same 1903 incident, the Jewish school and the once known Milk synagogue, an old temple built in the middle of the 19th century but that now belongs to the Catholic Church. They use it for religious events. Olga from the Jewish library came with us. We ended our journey in front of the pogrom memorial.

Later the same day we were interviewed by Radio Free Europe. Here's more about it:http://www.europalibera.org/content/article/24546271.html

Many other things happened that day. We were invited for a Seder event at the Jewish center for the next evening, observed more about Moldova's capital, a few interesting things for tourists coming from America: parking is free and there is not much regulation, so cars are parked everywhere, including sidewalks, front of businesses and restaurants, governments buildings, etc.

Going to the supermarket I was impressed by huge bottles of beer being sold, like over 2 liter plastic bottles. And another unseen curiosity: pizza on a cone! Unfortunately we didn't try it.

The whole crew having lunch at La Placinta

At the end of the day, I was contacted by my sister, saying she found a certain Cristina Tolpolari online, who said not to be Jewish, but that her father had discovered his grandfather was Jewish and seemed to have relatives in Brazil. We called her father in Chisinau, Natasha spoke to him, but it all looked like misguided information. We did not follow this lead.

To end the night, exhausted, Lara, Melina and I went to a restaurant for some pizza and wine. The wine was delicious, and from Orhei, the birthplace of my grandmother. It was the most relaxing night since our arrival.

CHISINAU - 4 years later

We arrived in Chisinau on April 6th, but were only able to see the city on the 8th, after Vadul Raskov. I felt many things have changed. First, I saw more businesses and even two big shopping centers. For example, next to our hotel in 2008 there was an abandoned house - now there is a travel agency. But as people told me, more businesses does not exactly mean economic progress. Moldova's economic stagnation seems a constant, as the country primary source is agriculture and there is no real industry per se. Political problems also don't contribute much. The country didn't have a president for two years, and now the political direction is towards getting closer to Romania, creating a "Romanification" of Moldova. For some, it isolates the Russian speaking population, especially job-wise. For others, it means a political opening towards democracy, running away from (still) authoritarian Russian influence.

 

As an outsider, it's difficult to have a correct assessment of the situation, but it's clear that Moldovans are still very much divided.

On our second day in Moldova, we drove over Chisinau for some city footage I needed, and had lunch at Marina Shraibman's place. 

 

Marina cooked us delicious mamaliga, fish and salad. Lara especially loved the tea made from a dogwood tree. Melina played the piano and fed the birds outside the kitchen's window. 

We drank homemade wine and celebrated our arrival. Marina talked about Ihil Shraibman and showed us her private library of Yiddish books.

Marina is a very special person, generous and passionate. She belongs to a Jewish community that is also struggling for survival, as we later observed.