|
From the book
|
Krasnostav had Jewish, Ukrainian, Polish and German residents. The Ukrainians generally settled on the outskirts of town by their fields and worked in agriculture, while the Jews lived closer to the center of town around the large square where fairs took place every Friday in summer and winter. On regular days, a few dozens of craftsmen’s workshops open from dawn till dusk lined both sides of the square. A dozen of stores were doing brisk business there as well. On one side, the square faced an Orthodox church; on the other, there was a bridge that led to a Ukrainian school on the other bank of the river. I still remember the fear I felt when the church bells tolled and people carrying icons came out of the church. There were two smaller squares to the left and right of the market square – that is where the big and the small synagogues were. I was always awed by them, in a way.
246 Jews lived in Krasnostav in 1847, while 50 years later – in 1897 – their number increased to 1,222, which accounted for more than half of the town’s population.
The streets where Jews lived extended radially away from the square. They were named after Ukrainian villages where they led: Manyatinskaya, Horitskaya, Yablonivskaya, and Khorovetskaya. In between the four major streets, there were at least a dozen of smaller streets and lanes dotted by Jewish houses, workshops, sheds, and barns.
The town had a river and four ponds with fish. People were bathing and doing their laundry there in the summer, and skated in the winter using home-made wooden skates.
The terrain was flat; a forest was located about three kilometers away from the town by the village of Guta, on the way to Khorovets.
Krasnostav is located 20 to 40 kilometers away from the cities of Slavuta, Shepetovka, and Novograd-Volynsk. They were accessible by horse-drawn carts. There were two to three Jewish cart drivers called balagulas that owned a pair of horses and a cart; they gathered five to six passengers and took them to these cities. And later on, when the railroad was completed, they took their passengers to the Maidan-Vila Station or to the Dubrovka (Radulino) Junction, which were 15-20 kilometers away.
The road was bad – an ordinary dirt road that turned into ? swamp in spring and fall. During these seasons, horses could barely pull their load; people had to walk alongside pushing the cart.
Old-timers remembered the construction of a road from Slavuta to to Kiev via Shepetovka and Novograd-Volynsk. The road constructor demanded that the wealthy Jews of Krasnostav pay them a few hundred rubles to have the railroad pass along Krasnostav and build a station there. However, the Krasnostav moneybags were reluctant to pay this much, thus the railroad was not built near Krasnostav, to the satisfaction of the balagulas. The local merchants were to suffer from this the most: they bought their goods in Slavuta and Shepetovka and had to transport them through the forest, where they or their stewards were often robbed and sometimes even killed by bandits.
I remember a woman saying: if bandits take merchandise or money, then nothing is lost; if they kill – a life is lost; but if a woman is raped, then honor is lost, and honor is the most important asset for a human being. This is how much simple Jewish women valued their honor back in the day!
Before serfdom was abolished in 1861, Krasnostav belonged to a Polish tycoon, a Duke who owned a thousand villages, but he would rather say that he owns “only” 999. It sounded longer and more majestic.
On black earth, Krasnostav peasants grew such grain crops as rye, wheat, barley, oats, buckwheat, corn; such technical crops as linen, hemp, beets, as well as turnips, poppy, sunflower, potatoes. They also raised vegetables – carrots, cabbages, tomatoes, and fruit – apples, pears, plums, cherry, and sour cherry… They then brought this bounty to Krasnostav’s central square, where the market had been bustling since early in the morning. You could hear anything there: the loud cow mooing, horse neighing, sheep bleating, hen cackling, and geese gabbling. Firewood and hay carts stood to the side. The bargaining ritual was in full swing: Jewish men and women were learning the prices, leaving and coming back and feverishly bargaining for the last kopeck.
The blind lyre players sang their songs here as well; the gypsies swore to God while selling and buying horses, the beggars asked for alms for Christ’s sake.
When the peasants sold off their produce and had some cash, the fair entered its second stage. They all went shopping in the numerous stores and workshops. They wanted fabric and footwear, finished clothing and pottery, beads and ribbons, toys and paintings, toffees and lollipops, halva and poppy cakes (mundlich), dumplings and bagels, bread rolls and ice cream, sparkling water and lemonade, leather and tar, scythes and sickles, wheels and sleds, rakes and shovels.
Here, between carts, pots, hens, and apples, scores of kids – half-naked in the summer and half-dressed in the summer – were running around, trying to swipe a piece of fruit or two off the carts. The peasants screamed at them, cursed them, and at times slapped an especially crafty boy. The orphan Gedalia and the fearless Benya Kuchik got punished more than others. Benya’s mother liked to say, “It is better to have stones than such kids.”
The barbers – Duvidl and Sheylek – had their hands full on the day of the fair. There were lots of people in the tearoom and the cafeteria; the “monopolka” (a vodka store) kept itself busy too. But there were few drunks. Everyone knew that the pockmarked shoemaker Yashka would get drunk and start arguing with his close friend Gnat – the tall and sturdy kind-hearted builder.
Sometimes the tipsy Avrumele Simes liked to face off against some Ukrainian guys. He would say to one of them, “Go ahead. Punch me in the neck!” - trying to stay on his feet after being punched and then delivering his blow. But the real fights were extremely rare. People got along well and lived in peace with one another. All in all, fair is remembered as a people’s festival, a place where Jewish craftsmen and merchants met peasants from Krasnostav and its vicinity.
246 Jews lived in Krasnostav in 1847, while 50 years later – in 1897 – their number increased to 1,222, which accounted for more than half of the town’s population.
The streets where Jews lived extended radially away from the square. They were named after Ukrainian villages where they led: Manyatinskaya, Horitskaya, Yablonivskaya, and Khorovetskaya. In between the four major streets, there were at least a dozen of smaller streets and lanes dotted by Jewish houses, workshops, sheds, and barns.
The town had a river and four ponds with fish. People were bathing and doing their laundry there in the summer, and skated in the winter using home-made wooden skates.
The terrain was flat; a forest was located about three kilometers away from the town by the village of Guta, on the way to Khorovets.
Krasnostav is located 20 to 40 kilometers away from the cities of Slavuta, Shepetovka, and Novograd-Volynsk. They were accessible by horse-drawn carts. There were two to three Jewish cart drivers called balagulas that owned a pair of horses and a cart; they gathered five to six passengers and took them to these cities. And later on, when the railroad was completed, they took their passengers to the Maidan-Vila Station or to the Dubrovka (Radulino) Junction, which were 15-20 kilometers away.
The road was bad – an ordinary dirt road that turned into ? swamp in spring and fall. During these seasons, horses could barely pull their load; people had to walk alongside pushing the cart.
Old-timers remembered the construction of a road from Slavuta to to Kiev via Shepetovka and Novograd-Volynsk. The road constructor demanded that the wealthy Jews of Krasnostav pay them a few hundred rubles to have the railroad pass along Krasnostav and build a station there. However, the Krasnostav moneybags were reluctant to pay this much, thus the railroad was not built near Krasnostav, to the satisfaction of the balagulas. The local merchants were to suffer from this the most: they bought their goods in Slavuta and Shepetovka and had to transport them through the forest, where they or their stewards were often robbed and sometimes even killed by bandits.
I remember a woman saying: if bandits take merchandise or money, then nothing is lost; if they kill – a life is lost; but if a woman is raped, then honor is lost, and honor is the most important asset for a human being. This is how much simple Jewish women valued their honor back in the day!
Before serfdom was abolished in 1861, Krasnostav belonged to a Polish tycoon, a Duke who owned a thousand villages, but he would rather say that he owns “only” 999. It sounded longer and more majestic.
On black earth, Krasnostav peasants grew such grain crops as rye, wheat, barley, oats, buckwheat, corn; such technical crops as linen, hemp, beets, as well as turnips, poppy, sunflower, potatoes. They also raised vegetables – carrots, cabbages, tomatoes, and fruit – apples, pears, plums, cherry, and sour cherry… They then brought this bounty to Krasnostav’s central square, where the market had been bustling since early in the morning. You could hear anything there: the loud cow mooing, horse neighing, sheep bleating, hen cackling, and geese gabbling. Firewood and hay carts stood to the side. The bargaining ritual was in full swing: Jewish men and women were learning the prices, leaving and coming back and feverishly bargaining for the last kopeck.
The blind lyre players sang their songs here as well; the gypsies swore to God while selling and buying horses, the beggars asked for alms for Christ’s sake.
When the peasants sold off their produce and had some cash, the fair entered its second stage. They all went shopping in the numerous stores and workshops. They wanted fabric and footwear, finished clothing and pottery, beads and ribbons, toys and paintings, toffees and lollipops, halva and poppy cakes (mundlich), dumplings and bagels, bread rolls and ice cream, sparkling water and lemonade, leather and tar, scythes and sickles, wheels and sleds, rakes and shovels.
Here, between carts, pots, hens, and apples, scores of kids – half-naked in the summer and half-dressed in the summer – were running around, trying to swipe a piece of fruit or two off the carts. The peasants screamed at them, cursed them, and at times slapped an especially crafty boy. The orphan Gedalia and the fearless Benya Kuchik got punished more than others. Benya’s mother liked to say, “It is better to have stones than such kids.”
The barbers – Duvidl and Sheylek – had their hands full on the day of the fair. There were lots of people in the tearoom and the cafeteria; the “monopolka” (a vodka store) kept itself busy too. But there were few drunks. Everyone knew that the pockmarked shoemaker Yashka would get drunk and start arguing with his close friend Gnat – the tall and sturdy kind-hearted builder.
Sometimes the tipsy Avrumele Simes liked to face off against some Ukrainian guys. He would say to one of them, “Go ahead. Punch me in the neck!” - trying to stay on his feet after being punched and then delivering his blow. But the real fights were extremely rare. People got along well and lived in peace with one another. All in all, fair is remembered as a people’s festival, a place where Jewish craftsmen and merchants met peasants from Krasnostav and its vicinity.
