Ruhl and Shoura - two surprises in one day

I love the internet and social media. I understand there are many not very nice things about it, but it is thanks to it that I was able to find my long lost relatives in Argentina, Ukraine, Luxemburg, Israel, Germany and most recently the US and Canada.

It was one regular working day to me, and I was expecting no surprises. Days like this one happened before, where I was expecting nothing and all of a sudden, Shlomi Tolpolar from Germany calls me on Skype saying he is my cousin, or Mikhail Tolpolar calls my phone from Ukraine and we can barely communicate because I can't speak Yiddish or Russian. Well, a few days ago it happened again, now through Facebook. I got a message, out of the blue, from Alik Oshmiansky. Through his profile was writing somebody named Rachel (or Ruhl) Tolpolar, from Los Angeles, saying she was a cousin. A few hours later I receive a message from Shoura Canmore., from Calgary, saying she was my cousin as well! I was dumbfounded. You would be too. I needed some time to digest it and, mostly, ask my dad about these possible relationships.

Ruhl and us - on Skype

Shortly, this is the story: 

Ruhl and Shoura's mom was Miriam Ludner, whose maiden name was Tolpolar. Miriam's father was Velvl Tolpolar, Meyer's brother. Meyer Tolpolar was my great-grandfather. How did Ruhl knew this? Because her mom would always tell her the story of her uncle and aunt's murder. Miriam knew all of it, just like we do! Ruhl said the Tolpolars were not rich, but had a good life, had cows and got milk and cheese from them.

Miriam was born in Oliscani, a small village in Moldova, like all Tolpolars. She had 2 brothers, Haim and Shlomo, and 3 sisters. One of them was Betty, killed in a war bombing in 1941. Haim wanted to leave Oliscani and ended up in Iasi (Romania). Miriam followed her brother's footsteps and also moved to Iasi in 1931, the same year where her uncle was murdered and my grandfather left to Brazil. It was heard that Shlomo tried to move to Brazil as well, but was killed in trying.

Miriam was evacuated to Kazakhstan, and that's how she survived. In 1943, when the allies started to win the war and German power started to dwindle, Miriam was able to go back to Oliscani, but there was nothing there for her to find anymore. So she went to Orhei, where Ruhl and Shoura were born. They left Moldova in 1977 to Israel, and then North America.

Ruhl showing a picture of a cousin - looks just like my dad!

Ruhl's family was much closer to all atrocities committed in the war and suffered much more with immigration and family displacement. Speaking to her, I had the feeling that my grandfather found a haven in Brazil, and had the best life he could have imagined outside Europe. 

Miriam always tried to find the other Tolpolars, but was unsuccessful. Until one day Ruhl was on the internet and accidently stumbled upon Mamaliga Blues homepage. So thanks again for the internet and social media, and I believe more surprises are to come. They always do.

THE LITTLE HANUKKAH MIRACLE - PART II

The picture sent to Emil and Dina, the couple I met at the Hanukkah party, revealed many things. Firstly, I must say, it shows a person I thought I would never see so clear: Sioma Tolpolar. Sioma was Fima's brother and he was killed in Cepeleutz by Cuzists in 1941 together with his wife Iza. When we went to Moldova in 2008, we went to the very site where the murder happened.

During my research, I could only find only one picture of Sioma available, in the Yedinitz Yizkor book. And it was not a very good one. Nobody else connected to Sioma seemed to have any other pictures of him. Until we see this photo. Sioma is in his very young years, his face is clear and bright. I was amazed to see it. His past is more alive to me now.

Secondly, on the opposite side of Sioma, stands another surprising revelation. The woman on the far left is nothing but Hanna Davidovich, married to Josef Nisenblat, brother of my grandmother (Rachel Nisenblat, from Orhei)! The world is getting smaller, but in those days, for the Jewish community in Bessarabian villages, it was also very small. So Hanna Davidovich knew Sioma Tolpolar, both related to me and to Emil. Hannah is probably Emil grandmother's sister, as all Davidovich sisters are in the picture.

Ultimately, the Romanian writings behind the letter bewildered me. I asked my dear friend Rachel Fain to translate it:

“This picture was taken with the occasion of the visit of our cousin (male) to Orhei

 And with the occasion that my cousin (female) left for ---------- “baise”. Frieda, Mara, Anushca Sioma “

The male cousin is Sioma. Now who would be the female cousin? Anushca - or better, Hannah? And what is "Baise"?  The name of a place or somebody's? Rachel could not tell. And next to it, something is erased. Could it be that they erased the word because they were afraid of something? Could this word be "Brazil" and the Davidovich and Tolpolar cousins got together in Orhei one last time before Hannah's departure...? We know for sure that she ended up in Brazil.

"Baise" is still a mystery, and my mind creates unconfirmed suppositions and relationships. This picture proves that Emil and I are most likely related through Hannah Davidovich - she is the main link.

Hannah passed away in Israel in 1994. She had three children: Ari, Cecilia and Mario.
Sioma never managed to escape the Holocaust.
This picture could be their last one together. And I'm sure they never imagined someday we would be talking about them.

THE LITTLE HANUKKAH MIRACLE

I went to a friends' house for a Hanukkah dinner in Long Beach. The place was packed, great food, children running around (including my daughter), nice conversations... Until I met a woman, named Dina, who said she was from Russia. I asked where and the answer was "from the South" - with a face like "you would never know where it is so I won't say the name of the location". Insistently I asked again where. The answer was Moldova.

Just the name "Moldova" opens up room for a lot of conversation. But ours was fast. When I mentioned my grandmother was from Orhei, Dina called her husband right away and put me in contact with him.

To make the story short, we found out I am related to Emil, Dina's husband, through a common relative: Fima Tolpolar. Dina invited me to her house the next day. 

Dina and Emil

Dina and Emil are a very nice couple. Dina is a pianist and Emil was a journalist in the extinct Soviet Republic - and turned out to be a computer programmer in the States. Amongst homemade latkes and mamaliga, we exchanged stories and information, and talked to relatives in Miami who knew more about our connections - and even sent us some rare pictures I had never seen before.

It so happens that Emil's grandmother was the sister of Fima's mother! Her last name was Davidovich - and I also found out that there was a Davidovich in Brazil who was married to my dad's uncle - and was also Fima's cousin.

One of the pictures sent to us from Miami opened up multiple interpretations of what could have happened in 1930 between Tolpolar and Davidovich cousins. A mystery that, if solved, can help us picture the past.

More in the next post.

A SPECIAL BOTTLE

One of these days I opened a cabinet in my kitchen and saw it: a Moldovan plastic bottle. Inside of it there was wine, homemade wine from Orhei.

For some reason I kept this bottle that was given to us from a local during our 2008 trip. Moldovan homemade wine is delicious and I had brought some back to the US, but a week went by and I forgot to drink it. It was then I decided to open it and offered some to a friend. She made a face and said "it's good" - but very unconvincingly. I tasted some and it was already almost vinegar.

It was unfortunate that I forgot to drink it while it was good. But I never threw it away. Three years went by and I kept is as a hidden secret, a kind of souvenir. Maybe I was waiting to write about it, so I wouldn't forget it. In any case, maybe it's now time to let go.

ORHEI AND THE BEAUTIFUL ORHEI VECCHI + LAST DAY OF CRONOGRAF

Our guide Natasha had told us they had found a few Tolpolars graves in Orhei. That was exciting, although it was the birthplace of my grandmother, a Nisenblat. We picked up the head of the Jewish community in Orhei, Izia Mundrean, and went to the cemetery. Like the other towns, there’s not much of a Jewish life in Orhei. Izia said 80 percent of the city was Jewish (around 32,000 people). Today, there’s about 100 Jews. The reality of Moldova is, Jewish or non Jewish, most of youngsters leave the country for a better future. Most Jews go to Israel or the USA. Other Moldovans go to Italy, Germany, Spain, etc. Orhei is the city with the highest number of Jews who move to Israel.

The Orhei Jewish cemetery is one of the 10 oldest in Europe; it is 450 years-old, whereas the city is 570 years-old. The cemetery is not totally abandoned. There’s a keeper, people also give donations and family relatives repair graves. There are a few Holocaust memorials there. One, from 1991, says: “To our compatriots, Jews, victims of the Holocaust”. 4,000 Jews were killed in Orhei, and their names are in the memorial.

We found a few Tolpolar and Nisenblat graves. The most beautiful and mythical part of the cemetery is where the old graves are. I mean, very old, falling apart in the grown grass, attesting the passage of time.

Back in the new part, we went to see a few war memorials. I though the father of my grandmother would be listed in the memorial as a Holocaust victim, but there was a bunch of names, written in Russian and Hebrew, and we couldn’t find his.

After the cemetery, we drove by old Jewish buildings (old Jewish neighborhood and synagogue. During the drive, I spotted the Orhei soccer stadium.) and then stopped at a house that serves as the Jewish center, so people can meet for the holidays and such. Ana, our host, was waiting for us with food, wine, champagne and sweet wine, all homemade. Ana has been working for 11 years with the Jewish community. Her father was Jewish. She used to cook and people would come to buy her food. Now, as the city’s Jews are old, she goes to their places and cooks for them.

Through the “couchsurfing” website, Kerley had made contact with Annie, an American who was working for the Peace Corps and living in Orhei, and she joined us for lunch. It was a nice afternoon, we all at the table, eating and drinking. Ana gave us a bottle of homemade wine and a bottle of champagne to Natasha. We gave her a skin crème from the Amazon, she loved it.

Our next destiny was Orhei Vecchi, Old Orhei. Nothing Jewish, just pure sightseeing. I had read about it and was excited to see it.

This old, archeological sight was a place for monasteries back in the 1400’s (I think). Close by there are also the remains of a Tartar bath. The landscape was gorgeous, it’s like this huge semi-circular wall that jots out of the ground, with caves in it, where the monks used to live. In the ground, there’s a river, a plantation and some peasants working. A surreal idyllic image. Moldova is now a landlocked country, but thousands of years ago the ocean was there, and this wall is full of shells encrusted in it. Amazing.


We stopped by the road to appreciate the landscape from afar. On the other side of the river is a village, very pretty too. Natasha took us to a path of grass and collected some plants with a very different – but pleasant smell. She said it’s good for tea, and I got some. We then drive towards the caves, passing by the museum of Orhei Vecchi, but it was closed.

We finally get to the actual site, and enter the monastery. One monk still lives there and maintains a sanctuary. We go down the stairs and enter one of the caves, where a few monks used to sleep. It’s very cold in there. A local young girl comes in with her family, we talk a little and she reveals she wants to leave Moldova and go to Italy.

We leave the cave and go out to see we were in the place where we spotted from afar in the road. We are right in one of the holes of this huge wall. Looking down, it’s like an abyss. Very impressing.

The drive back to the hotel was calm, as Orhei is about 30 minutes from Chisinau. We dropped Natasha off at her place, as usual, and headed for the hotel. Time to rest and get ready for Oliscani. At least for my dad and sister, as I went to the last day of the CRONOGRAF Film Festival, to meet up with my Russian friend Roma, who had some music to give to me. I also took it as a good opportunity to see the festival goers one more time. But I had one mission: to bring food back to the hotel for my family. They were going to be starving soon.

When I got to the theater, the Awards Ceremony was already happening. So I stood there, waiting it to be finished. I soon spotted Roma, and we went to the outdoor bar next to the theater, where most people were. Roma bought me some delicious tea, and I became aware that Russians love tea, and that’s a popular drink there. It was much better than the Brazilian or American tea. And the waitress gives you some dates and raisins, which were also very good. I became to know better a Serbian filmmaker sitting on the same table, and his girlfriend/wife/film partner, and they were very nice. They studied in Bucharest and told me things I didn’t know about Serbia. Unfortunately I don’t remember our conversation very much, but it just reinforced the idea that people all over the world have the same necessities, everybody goes through difficulties and nothing is perfect.

OK, now everybody was ready for the closing party, which I didn’t even know it was going to happen. Meanwhile, I’m thinking of my father and sister waiting for me to return to the hotel room with dinner. But in this German-like bar (called Bierplatz, conveniently located between the theater and the bar where we were), there was a banquet of Moldovan specialties. There was bread, shrimp, bryza cheese, herring, pickles, things I couldn’t identify. One of them was pork tongue, which I ate before knowing it. To drink, wine of course. But I had drunk so much wine lately I had some sparkling water.

I couldn’t stay there too long. Just enough to satisfy my hunger and talk to people. After a while, it was time for me to go.

It was about 10PM, and I called my sister at the hotel. She said they were indeed waiting for food, and I had to get something. But I missed the 24 hour supermarket and nothing else was open. I walked around for a bit and, very tired already, got back to the hotel with empty hands. Kerley got angry, but she’s smart and asked the receptionist for help. She called us a pizza (I remember, it was “Andy’s Pizza)”, it took almost an hour to arrive. It was the first pizza I’ve seen that had mayonnaise instead of tomato sauce. I liked it, and so did my dad and sister. It was about 1PM when we went to sleep.

Next: the long awaited trip to Oliscani