Traveling notes:my road to Krasnostav
Roadside notes about traveling to Volhynia in May 2015
By Leonid Vayn
By Leonid Vayn
Traveling notes:my road to Krasnostav
INTRODUCTION
I spent the first half of my life in the USSR, being born right before World War II engulfed the Soviet territories. My father, Nathan Vaynshelboym, was drafted into the Red Army while my mother and I, a three-month old baby at the time, were evacuated on a ship slowly moving along the Volga river to the capital of the Tatar Republic, Kazan.
I spent the first half of my life in the USSR, being born right before World War II engulfed the Soviet territories. My father, Nathan Vaynshelboym, was drafted into the Red Army while my mother and I, a three-month old baby at the time, were evacuated on a ship slowly moving along the Volga river to the capital of the Tatar Republic, Kazan.
My parents and me, 1950
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We returned back to Moscow in 1944, and my father rejoined us after the end of the war.
My grandfather on my mother's side, Moshe Kaplun, had 8 children. But I only knew one aunt named Esfir. My grandparents and the rest of my uncles and aunts, along with many of their children, were killed during the war. Aunt Nekhama actually became sick and died while being evacuated to the Ural region. My family was fortunate enough not only to survive the war but to live in Moscow, the hub of the Soviet Empire. Even though we occupied only one 130 sq. foot room in a three-room apartment, many relatives from Ukraine and other parts of the country stayed with us while visiting Moscow. |
We have always been a tight-knit extended family. My mother Khana Kaplun and her sister Esfir Levin, who lived in Leningrad with her family, talked often about our family Holocaust stories and life in the small shtetl of Krasnostav, where my mother and her sister were born.
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Sisters Khana and Esfir, years 1937, 1944 and 1997
Moyshe's family.Krasnostav 1927
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My great grandfather Tsal and my grandfather Moshe Kaplun, one of Tsal's 11 children, were prominent people in the Krasnostav Jewish community, which numbered 1,100 people before World War 1. They were wise, religious people of substance. Tsal died around the year 1908. Moshe was an entrepreneur, who owned a food store, drug store, and a grain mill.
My mother's family lived on the second floor of a brick house on the central square; it was the only brick house in Krasnostav, and the family store occupied the ground floor. |
Moshe survived the pogroms, a tour of duty as a Russian soldier during World War I, the Revolution and the Russian Civil War. Before the Revolution, when Jews emigrated to the US in large numbers, Moshe said «Why I should go to America? Here, in Krasnostav, I have America ». Unfortunately, his statement would be proven wrong in short order. After the Revolution the new government appropriated all of Moshe's properties and money, and from 1928-1929 Moshe was constantly interrogated by the local authorities in an attempt to extort more gold coins from him. In 1930 Moshe and his wife Kreinza/Kroyna moved to Izyaslav, a larger town, where he was not as well known.
Obelisk near Zaslav, Ukraine
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In beginning of the war, in summer of 1941 German Special SS Command and local Ukrainian policemen gather Jews of Izyaslav including our grandparents Moyshe and Kreinza, our aunt Klara and her two children and lead hundreds people on a death march to wooden area in few kilometers from Izyaslav Jewish cemetery.
Every few years in the 1950s and 1960s my mother and aunt Esfir would travel with other relatives to Krasnostav and Slavuta to pay tribute to the Holocaust victims. |
My mother told me many emotional stories about life in Krasnostav and the Holocaust; few of the stories had a happy ending.
But I never had any desire to go Krasnostav and touch the past; I was more interested in the present and wanted to go on vacation to more interesting and exciting places. And then, in May 2015, at the age of 74, I and my cousin Michael Levin decided to visit Krasnostav. It was exactly 74 years after those tragic mass killing of August 1941.
But I never had any desire to go Krasnostav and touch the past; I was more interested in the present and wanted to go on vacation to more interesting and exciting places. And then, in May 2015, at the age of 74, I and my cousin Michael Levin decided to visit Krasnostav. It was exactly 74 years after those tragic mass killing of August 1941.
The Road to Krasnostav was long and twisted for me. In January 1979, I landed in JFK airport in New York with my then-wife Vera and son Nick, and a new life began. One good omen was that the my cousin Ida, her husband Alex Rubinstein, and their son Igor emigrated from Lviv on the same Rome-New York flight as I did. My mother would join us 2 years later. In 1982, we moved to Philadelphia because I obtained an engineering job there.
And in …we invited the few relatives we knew in the US to our house for a get-together. In the second half of the 1980s many more relatives decided to leave the Soviet Union, so our reunions became larger. My mother, as the oldest person, became the Matriarch of the extended family. She had a good relationship with everyone, and knew how people were related to us and each other. And so yearly family reunions became a tradition in our family, an event where we could see each other and discuss the changes in our lives. Those gatherings wound up being instrumental in arousing my interest in the history of the Kaplun family.
And in …we invited the few relatives we knew in the US to our house for a get-together. In the second half of the 1980s many more relatives decided to leave the Soviet Union, so our reunions became larger. My mother, as the oldest person, became the Matriarch of the extended family. She had a good relationship with everyone, and knew how people were related to us and each other. And so yearly family reunions became a tradition in our family, an event where we could see each other and discuss the changes in our lives. Those gatherings wound up being instrumental in arousing my interest in the history of the Kaplun family.
DIGGING OUT THE ROOTS
My cousin Michael Levin was interested in researching the family tree for as long as I can remember. This summer Mike will celebrate the golden anniversary (55 years) of his devotion to our family genealogy. He relentlessly built family trees for several families (our diaspora Grand three) and advocated for our DNA testing so that lineage analysis can be done. I came under the spell of the DNA magic myself so we went together to the Jewish Genealogy conference in Boston in July 2013 and procured the DNA of 15 members of our family. We then searched for family records in the Ukrainian archives and decided that the best idea was to go to the source. Thus the idea of traveling to the Ukraine was born. We wanted to see and smell those places we had heard about, and to talk to the people still there and see if they can shed some light on the remnants of Jewish life.
Fortunately, Mike and I shared the same vision for the expedition to the Ukraine: other relatives should be engaged, local support must be procured, and photo and video recording was essential. Then we realized that we couldn’t take on the roles of both investigators and recorders; furthermore, the emotional nuances of the expedition called for a professional to record our journey. I thought that our experiences in visiting our ancestors’ homes would be interesting for others outside the family, so I suggested that we make a documentary film about our expedition. Mike not only supported this idea enthusiastically but found a well-known documentary filmmaker among our mishpucha who agreed to create the film. Our filmmaker, Julia Melamed, approved of our intentions, but was skeptical about our ability to pull it off. However, Mike and I were adamant about doing it, and we worked tirelessly to develop the film concept and raise the money needed for the film production.
We all agreed that the film should be based on the history of the family but have elements in it that would appeal to the public at large, particularly to Russian-Jewish families looking to reflect upon our shared history.
We send Julia all sorts of data, including family photos, family tree charts, stories, and video and audio interviews with relatives. Amazingly, she absorbed this large amount of material rather quickly, and formulated the director’s approach we would follow. No script was needed, and the film would be shot as if by an eye-witness reporter. In other words, the expedition’s participants would be the "heroes" of the film, and the film crew would simply follow their movement and record their experiences. We were shocked at this approach, and worried about the uncertainty regarding the themes of the scenes that would be filmed. In the end we decided to trust Julia's instincts and her professional expertise, and it wound up being the right decision.
We planned the trip for August 2014 but obstacles quickly developed. The Eastern Ukrainian separatist war flared up, and we where short of funds. The fundraising aspect of the project appeared more problematic than we expected so we decided to postpone the trip until more funds could be procured. The political situation in Ukraine improved at the beginning of 2015, so we were eager to use this window of safe travel to embark on our trip. By the spring of 2015 we had collected about half of the funds needed for the expedition, and Mike and I decided to cover the rest so we could go as soon as possible. We were now ready to fly to Kiev.
My cousin Michael Levin was interested in researching the family tree for as long as I can remember. This summer Mike will celebrate the golden anniversary (55 years) of his devotion to our family genealogy. He relentlessly built family trees for several families (our diaspora Grand three) and advocated for our DNA testing so that lineage analysis can be done. I came under the spell of the DNA magic myself so we went together to the Jewish Genealogy conference in Boston in July 2013 and procured the DNA of 15 members of our family. We then searched for family records in the Ukrainian archives and decided that the best idea was to go to the source. Thus the idea of traveling to the Ukraine was born. We wanted to see and smell those places we had heard about, and to talk to the people still there and see if they can shed some light on the remnants of Jewish life.
Fortunately, Mike and I shared the same vision for the expedition to the Ukraine: other relatives should be engaged, local support must be procured, and photo and video recording was essential. Then we realized that we couldn’t take on the roles of both investigators and recorders; furthermore, the emotional nuances of the expedition called for a professional to record our journey. I thought that our experiences in visiting our ancestors’ homes would be interesting for others outside the family, so I suggested that we make a documentary film about our expedition. Mike not only supported this idea enthusiastically but found a well-known documentary filmmaker among our mishpucha who agreed to create the film. Our filmmaker, Julia Melamed, approved of our intentions, but was skeptical about our ability to pull it off. However, Mike and I were adamant about doing it, and we worked tirelessly to develop the film concept and raise the money needed for the film production.
We all agreed that the film should be based on the history of the family but have elements in it that would appeal to the public at large, particularly to Russian-Jewish families looking to reflect upon our shared history.
We send Julia all sorts of data, including family photos, family tree charts, stories, and video and audio interviews with relatives. Amazingly, she absorbed this large amount of material rather quickly, and formulated the director’s approach we would follow. No script was needed, and the film would be shot as if by an eye-witness reporter. In other words, the expedition’s participants would be the "heroes" of the film, and the film crew would simply follow their movement and record their experiences. We were shocked at this approach, and worried about the uncertainty regarding the themes of the scenes that would be filmed. In the end we decided to trust Julia's instincts and her professional expertise, and it wound up being the right decision.
We planned the trip for August 2014 but obstacles quickly developed. The Eastern Ukrainian separatist war flared up, and we where short of funds. The fundraising aspect of the project appeared more problematic than we expected so we decided to postpone the trip until more funds could be procured. The political situation in Ukraine improved at the beginning of 2015, so we were eager to use this window of safe travel to embark on our trip. By the spring of 2015 we had collected about half of the funds needed for the expedition, and Mike and I decided to cover the rest so we could go as soon as possible. We were now ready to fly to Kiev.
KIEV
Mike devoted a lot of time and energy to organize local support for the expedition. He got in touch with our relatives in Kiev and Slavuta, and he solicited the help of the director of the Museum of Slavuta History. All our local participants and supporters wound up contributing tremendously to the success of our expedition. Many thanks to our Kiev relatives, cousin Arkady Segal, and his wife Klavdia and son Yakov for their hospitality and organizational skills; as a result of their efforts, we have no problems in Kiev.
Mike and I were joined on our trip by Leon Greyer, a member of our extended family whose grandmother was also from Krasnostav. On May 22, 2015 the three of us, the “heroes” of the upcoming film, landed in the Kiev airport “Borispol”. We had never met most of the participants and the film crew, so the first important test was meeting them at the airport exit. We were also concerned that our cameraman Igor Klyonov, a Russian citizen, might be suspicious for Ukrainian passport control since he was a young Russian man at a time of economic and military confrontation between Ukraine and Russia. But everything went well; we were hugged by our Ukrainian relatives the Segals and Katya Sokolovskyay, and the crew started filming our get-together in the airport hall. Suddenly our conversation was interrupted by loud voices and a commotion near us. Turns out that a woman with a Russian tourist group was angrily complaining that her husband was not being allowed entry into the Ukraine. We reflected on our good fortune that it wasn't an issue for us.
We were brought to a nice private boutique hotel in the central area of Kiev, and we celebrated the first Shabbat in Kiev at the Segals’ apartment. Yakov (Sergey) Segal, a graduate of Kiev Medical Academy, had a deep interest in the Jewish religion. As a devotee of the Chabad tradition, he enriched our group experience by connecting us to our ancestors' way of life. Chabad was and still is the dominant Jewish religious practice in Ukraine.
Mike devoted a lot of time and energy to organize local support for the expedition. He got in touch with our relatives in Kiev and Slavuta, and he solicited the help of the director of the Museum of Slavuta History. All our local participants and supporters wound up contributing tremendously to the success of our expedition. Many thanks to our Kiev relatives, cousin Arkady Segal, and his wife Klavdia and son Yakov for their hospitality and organizational skills; as a result of their efforts, we have no problems in Kiev.
Mike and I were joined on our trip by Leon Greyer, a member of our extended family whose grandmother was also from Krasnostav. On May 22, 2015 the three of us, the “heroes” of the upcoming film, landed in the Kiev airport “Borispol”. We had never met most of the participants and the film crew, so the first important test was meeting them at the airport exit. We were also concerned that our cameraman Igor Klyonov, a Russian citizen, might be suspicious for Ukrainian passport control since he was a young Russian man at a time of economic and military confrontation between Ukraine and Russia. But everything went well; we were hugged by our Ukrainian relatives the Segals and Katya Sokolovskyay, and the crew started filming our get-together in the airport hall. Suddenly our conversation was interrupted by loud voices and a commotion near us. Turns out that a woman with a Russian tourist group was angrily complaining that her husband was not being allowed entry into the Ukraine. We reflected on our good fortune that it wasn't an issue for us.
We were brought to a nice private boutique hotel in the central area of Kiev, and we celebrated the first Shabbat in Kiev at the Segals’ apartment. Yakov (Sergey) Segal, a graduate of Kiev Medical Academy, had a deep interest in the Jewish religion. As a devotee of the Chabad tradition, he enriched our group experience by connecting us to our ancestors' way of life. Chabad was and still is the dominant Jewish religious practice in Ukraine.
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On Saturday our group was invited to the famous Brodsky synagogue for Shavuot service and then to dinner at Rabbi Rafael Roitman’s home. Sugar magnate Lazar Brodsky built the synagogue, the largest in Kiev, in the Romanesque Revival style in 1898. It was restored in 2000 and looked opulent both on the inside and the outside. The synagogue was filled with people; most were praying, though some were gossiping and discussing the news. It seemed that the Kiev Jewish community recreated by Chabad is thriving, but its inequality and security are still problems. For example, synagogue worshippers put on hats to cover their yarmulke as they leave because there have been instances of attacks on Jews wearing yarmulke.
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On Kiev’s main boulevard near Kreshatik, we observed several large bookstands selling classic anti-Semite literature. In response to our negative remarks the sellers told us: “This is a democratic country. We are educating people in what we believe.”
The Visit to Babi Yar was our first encounter with the grim reality of the Holocaust. On a beautiful spring day on May 25th we entered a peaceful wooden ravine that looked like it could belong in any local park, and our guide began telling us in detail about how 33,731 Jews were brought to Babi Yar on September 29-30, 1941 and how every single one of them was killed. I was so shaken and depressed that I was not even able to lift my camera to take a picture. The Babi Yar massacre became our first indicator of the painful recollections that awaited us on this trip.
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