A series of fortunate events

Today, I'll play catch-up as we haven't had an Internet connection that would allow us to work on the blog for days. Tomorrow, Yuri & Lev will write about our enjoyable visit to Pervomaysk with family, while I will try to capture some of our experiences in Zhabokrich.

The thriving metropolis that is Zhabokrich

On Friday, Alex Dunai, our guide, drove us from our hotel in Tulchin (ending up at that hotel is another story in itself... but I digress) to Kryzhopil, and then the eleven kilometers to Zhabokrich. I was eager to follow the same road between the towns that family members would have used as they made the regular trip between the two villages. As my Bubi Dora once told me, there was (and still is) a forest standing along part of the trip. She recounted how the wooded area was scarier when they traveled at night as there was always the possibility of people hiding in the woods who could attack their carts without warning. Most of the other roads in Podolia, the region where the two towns are located, run through huge farm fields rather than woods.

The spooky, scary woods know all of your secrets and disapprove.

Fun fact: Zhabokrich (or Zhabokritch as some Jews spell it), means frog's croak and, unbeknown to me, is pronounced like Zhabo-krich, with the sound Zh like in Doctor Zhivago. Who knew?

The stereotypical Ukrainian villager on the sign represents the rich Jewish history of Zhabokrich

Zhabokrich was the village where my grandparents Leib Spektor and Dora Krafchek were born. In later years both the Spektor and Krafchek families would move to Kryzhopil, because the town provided greater opportunities for employment and easier access to the relatively new railroad that could take them to Odesa. But Zhabokrich was the town that my Bubi remembered fondly for its pond (where the frogs croaked), for its hills, for their house with its fruit-bearing trees that they used to make jams, and for the village square where there was a busy market every second Sunday.

We did not hear a single frog. Unfortunately, there were no refunds forthcoming.

Much of Zhabokrich has changed. The market square now contains a small restaurant and small stores, but many buildings remain from early in the last century. When we first arrived we didn't know the location of the old Jewish area of town or the Jewish cemetery. Once again a series of fortuitous events (and some serious sleuthing on the part of Alex) gave us information that we had not had prior to this visit.

Panoramic view of Zhabokrich (former) market square

First off, Lev saw a large menorah at a distance when we were in the 'centre' of town; it turned out to be the site of one of two monuments to the mass killings in Zhabokrich in July 1941 and in 1944. We visited both sites and said Kaddish.

The memorial plaque for the mass grave in the former market square

Another mass grave memorial, another large menorah, another sad reminder of what once was

Afterwards, Alex spoke to some people who were walking in town and learned that there was an elderly Ukrainian woman still lived in town who used to work for a Jewish families. We went in search of her and after some door-knocking met her daughter. While her mother could no longer remember much, the daughter was able to recollect some of the things her mother had told her. She pointed out where many of the Jews had lived, and where some had died in WWII, and in some cases even remembered their family names!

Pictured: Not the house they live in. This is/was probably an old Jewish house from the 19th century

We were also surprised, and thrilled, when she pointed out that a brick synagogue built in the early 1900s was still standing. It isn't used anymore, given that there are no Jews still living in Zhabokrich, but the fact that it is still standing (although somewhat hidden by additional structures) was a wonderful sight!

It was probably used by the Soviets as a garage for servicing machinery

As we prepared to leave to look for the Jewish cemetery, our friend came back out of her house and told us that she remembered where the Carpenter's house had been. That house was the one where the Spektor family lived in Zhabokrich. The Krafchek's lived next door (which side we are not sure).  Imagine our excitement! Then, to our dismay, once again,we learned that the house had been demolished in the 1980s. It seems we have been doomed to see only empty lots. Apparently, however, the house had a beautiful big porch and was well-known in the community.

The ostentatious gate, I am happy to say, is probably not original

The house (chata) stood across the street from the shul, proving that the Spektor's were probably that one annoying "holier-than-thou" family everyone in the village hated. ;)

Our final search was for the Jewish cemetery. Many conversations with many town-folk sent us on car trips up into the hills over Zhabokrich, through meadows, into an overgrown Catholic cemetery, and over a muddy track.

Overgrown is a mild understatement

Finally, in frustration, Alex convinced another man who was walking by to lead us to the cemetery, which was tucked in behind a grove of trees and over a small stream. 

I'd love to say the clouds parted and a sunbeam shone down upon it, but in reality, it was looking like it may rain.

 It was mostly overgrown, with many toppled headstones and very hard to read stones (I really must improve my Hebrew). But amazingly we uncovered the grave with the name Вельтман (Veltman), my paternal great-grandmother Masha's maiden name! We're not sure how the person is related to our family yet but in such a small town, s/he must be! There is much research to be done.

If anyone knows what the Hebrew inscription says, please leave it in the comments below

Many more interesting events took place that day but they are too numerous, and I am too tired, to recount them all.  Another day, another post :)