PRUZHANY
YZKOR BOOK
1958
Chapter
110
By Ytshe Seletzky
1945. I came from Linowo in a truck, to the same place from which I used
to watch my home city Pruzhany when I left years ago. From the distance I see
KRUTZEL's mill and the sawmill, the high chimneys and the houses... distant
from each other. How were these empty spaces created? Where did Seltzer street
disappeared? (Dombrowskiega St. for poles) Where are those trees on both sides
of sidewalk?
I came to the river, beside the cabinet-maker's house. The big bridge
and its high parapets disappeared, and in its place there is a temporary
crossing made of planks, like a bridge lying on the water.
We reached the Church place, near RAD KROMEN where the stores used to
be. Every house disappeared with its foundations, all around is covered by wild
grass and high thistles... With difficulty I found the location of my street ;
it wasn't easy to find our house's. Thanks to SORE GLOTZER's basement, I
recognized ours.
I'm standing in front of the line of stores. It's all intact. These
buildings with its powerful columns was a jewel for the village. Now they're as
alone as a dead relative, for their inhabitants and Jewish traders aren't there
anymore. The columns collapsed, pieces coming away like a tear in the clothes
for the departed beloved people. The white color of those days lighted the
center of town. Now it's covered by black spots, discolored like if it was in
mourning for its exterminated owners.
There are military warehouses now... Here's the white wall, the Tarbut
school building and the High school. Here in this religious study house, Jewish
youth used to learn and enjoy, and now there are soviet soldiers staying there.
From the windows, camp beds can be seen.
I came to the "Bet Yakov house of religious studies" in the
truck. It was intact. Many houses remained all around. I might find Jews
there... but Yakov's sons weren't there...
There were nine synagogues. Only one wasn't destroyed. I entered and saw
the "Aron Ha'kodesh" (place where the Holy scrolls were put) wasn't
damaged. Neither was the upper floor where the women used to sit. The
Bolsheviks built it on an electric station. I hear the banging of engines, the
sound of machines... I thought: "maybe it's the song of the parishioners,
in front of my eyes there are hundreds of people who spread their
prayers..." I come back to reality: they're not there. The only holy place
surviving was desecrated and humiliated...
I went to the place where the market used to be, and I didn't find the
Jewish cabins, not a single trace... Only a vast field. The Jewish cabins are
in the courtyards and orchards of the peasants, that used the planks to make
henhouses and stables.
I came to IATKE street, and the synagogue's courtyard. Everything's
mixed here. Wild grass is growing on the piece of land, mountains of rubble,
all messy, and only the public bath house can be seen.
On Pocht street (Post street) many of the beautiful houses are no longer
there. Some remained, but their former owners didn't. New "heirs"
live there. Most of Kobrin street disappeared. Y. L. Peretz school was razed
too. The capitol city of Pruzhany District has been degraded and changed into a
hamlet.
I stayed six months at Pruzhany, six terrible months of nightmares. Each
place I passed through, I saw the former landlords, I saw the houses
inhabitants, they were alive before my eyes. They would come with me
everywhere.
Our gentile neighbors had got used to the "Jews of Pruzhany".
Now their longed-for dream come true: they're heirs of Jewish goods. For
generations they were our friends. They had their "Jew" without whom
they couldn't manage. Don't they miss them now? The Jew they turn to in order
to relieve their sorrow, to comment with no fear the dissatisfaction and
injustice the authorities committed by humiliating and ruling them...
I walked on Pruzhany ground and I couldn't believe it. Is this the city
of Pruzhany? Where are those Jews trading on the week days? No market, no
buyers nor sellers. I see the present "market days". Poor them! I was
standing there on a Monday or Thursday and I saw the orphanage of trade,
without dynamic Jews. No shake hands to seal a purchase or exchange. No merry
horse sellers, no 15 "groshn" herring sellers, no baker women selling
their stuff, announcing and praising their products; those who used to sale
clothes, boots o hats have disappeared. Only silence, sadness, a cemetery
instead a market.
Also the Jews of the feast days disappeared. Where are those Jews that
worked hard on the week, but had a different look on Saturdays eve? An
additional soul perched on them. The youths aren't there anymore, those who
walked, argued and sang...
A silence of death rules all the time. Lonely and empty is Post street,
the promenade is mourning. From time to time a cart with Red Army soldiers
passes by.
On Saturday evening, at the synagogue's courtyard, there aren't the Jews
walking hurried to the synagogues. The canticle "Lechu Le'ranena"
(let's praise God) of Saturday night cannot be heard now. The sabbatical
candlelight in which the whole town was immersed, are no longer burning... Now
soldiers of the Red Army march on the synagogue courtyard, heading to the
public bath house.
The large Seltzer street that leaded to both cemeteries disappeared as
well as its sieges. The wall between death and life was destroyed. Then death
and destruction were all around. The whole Seltzer street and the surrounding
lanes were a cemetery. All the trees that gave the place a holy look and
meaning, have disappeared. Many tombstones are broken, let down and humiliated.
There are shelter holes around; if there wasn't a battle here, who dug it and
desecrated the holy place?
We the few survivors feel lonely, very lonely, dejected, devastated, we
protect each other in one or other house. Someone makes a work, other is an
employee of the local regime. The sadness and doubt fall over the all of us.
What to do? How to start a new life? With whom? There is a hate sea around. The
frightening scenes lie in every corner, when you constantly feel the suffering
your close people passed through.
And what about our "neighbors"? In their "little
words" we feel falseness, cynicism, they suggest us to "go to
America, with your brothers". They express "solidarity" but we
know the real meaning. They don't want to pay the debt of the goods stolen to
Jews. They want to be heirs of the little remaining.
In every house we should write the biblical words: "They murdered
and they inherited"….Staying in Pruzhany means for every Jew to feel like
orphans for ever, surrounded by enemies that lie in wait for us all the time.
1945. You close your eyes; not a long time ago, in the recent past still
fresh, here life vibrated, but you wake up from the dream and you see the
outcome, and you fall into melancholy, for this is like living on a
graveyard...
Then everyone goes away from this bloody valley, some have come for a
little time. They see what happened around and they look for the way out. And
the words of the Bible book "Elcha" (wailing book read on Av 9th,
when both temples of Jerusalem were destroyed) sound again: "What a lonely
city inhabited by people, now it's like a helpless widow!"
You are alone, our dear Pruzhany, that used to have a full life, our so
Jewish Pruzhany, you went like a widow, trapped, sad, deserted...