By PETER BAILEYA sign in Yiddish, Hebrew and Lithuanian saying,‘In this place the Hitlerist murderers and their local helpers in the year of 1941 murdered 250 Jews, children, women and men’(photo credit: COURTESY OF BARRY MANN)
ON APRIL 23, 2017, while reading his daily copy of The Jerusalem Post, 82-year- old Hod Hasharon resident Max Leibowitz came across an article by Tom Tugend titled “Digging up the past,” which dealt with the massacre of 100,000 Jews in the Ponary forest.The article transported Max to his childhood, much of which had been filled with anecdotes from his grandparents, parents and three siblings, who had all been born in Lithuania.Memories that had been suppressed for 60 or 70 years suddenly surfaced, and Max has since become obsessed with digging up the past, trying to find the family that was left behind. The anecdotes appear to indicate in- tense feelings of guilt, while the horrors of the Holocaust added immense grief, intensified by not knowing exactly what happened to extended family.In Juknaiciai forest, adjacent to the town of Lygumai, the Nazis massacred about 170-180 Jews. They were then buried in a mass grave, a large hole, which was sub- sequently covered over. Max says thanks to Tugend, all these memories resurfaced, albeit many of them somewhat inaccurate and confusing, as these and related events were all told to Max around 70 years ago. The sad reality is that so much Holocaust information is still obscured with changes to family and village names, as well as destroyed records.Max’s memories are in many respects “what might have been” had his parents not immigrated to South Africa. The antisemitism and often violent attacks on Jews resulted in Max and his sister Rosy being born in Benoni, South Africa, rather than in Lygumai, as were their three older siblings.Max, or Nudnik, as he was affectionately called by his family, was raised from a very young age on stories of der heim (their world) and the childhood he would have experienced had he lived in Lygumai. Tales of haunted forests, his father’s youthful exploits and many more held the young Max spellbound. Intermingled with these stories were continual references to those that had been left behind in Lygumai and Varniai (Vorne), his mother’s hometown – memories that have now surfaced and are waiting to be told to another generation who know very little of the shtetl life that was.While Max made aliya from South Africa nine years ago, his life there was an inter - lude between a life that might have been in the Lygumai shtetl and his eventual settling in the Jewish state. Israel would in all likeli - hood have been his destination had he been born in Lithuania and then fortunate enough to survive the Holocaust.Max’s maternal grandparents lived in Varniai, about 30 kilometers from Telz, home to the famous Telz Yeshiva. His grandfather, Reb Leibe Velve Hacohen Glaz, remained in Lithuania together with 42 family members, all of whom are now assumed to have been murdered during the Holocaust. Varniai’s Jews were all taken to the near - by town of Viesvenai, where the men were shot by Lithuanian nationalists and buried in a mass grave from July 17-18, 1941. The women and children were then moved to nearby Geruliai, where they were murdered on August 30, 1941.Max’s maternal grandmother was Sipa Fradman (Glaz), who was born in Shavel (Siauliai). Max’s mother, Chaia Eta (Glaz) Leibovichene (Ann Leibowitz), moved from Varniai to Lygumai after marrying Yudel Leibovichene. Three children, Issy, David and Freda, were born in Lygumai before the family moved to South Africa. Ann Leibowitz had a brother, Alter Glaz, and three sisters, Sheina Gita, Molly and Fanny. All three were Zionist activists who escaped to the US after the authorities threatened to arrest them.Max’s paternal grandparents were his grandmother, Raize Ashne (Leibovichene), born in 1852 in Shavel, while his grandfa- ther, Yisrael ben Mordechai Leibovichene, was born and lived in Lygumai. (Max, also Mordechai, was named in memory of his great-grandfather.) He approached the Red Cross in South Africa after the Holocaust to try and establish the fate of the extended family on both sides.MAX HAS a very clear memory of acting as the interpreter, at the age of 11, during those meetings with the Red Cross, as his grandfather never learned to speak English. He remembers how he had to describe the horror of the fate of Varniai’s and Lygu- mai’s Jews, but there wasn’t any specific information regarding the family.This abiding, 70-year-old memory is what motivates Max to tell his story, while renewing his search for the family members through Yad Vashem, up until now without much success.Max’s earliest memories are of his father telling him how the family had returned to Lygumai in the early 1920s and had to re- build their house after it had been destroyed by antisemitic Lithuanian nationalists during the pogroms following World War I. He also told him about the nearby Juknaici - ai forest, which had a number of sinkholes that were believed to be haunted.According to his father, even the horses wouldn’t go near them. After the Holocaust, his father said these were the very holes the Nazis used, lining the Jews up and shooting them so that they fell straight into the holes, which were then covered. The holes were said to reek of the devil, and, as such, became willing accomplices to the evil forces unleashed by the Nazis. These holes are similar to those in the Ponary forest, also the site of a massacre, explaining the confusion as to where Max’s family had perished. Every time any fami - ly member spoke about the haunted holes, they would spit three times, an old Jew- ish superstition said to ward off evil. The grandfather told Max that the holes were home to witches and gremlins who could cast evil spells on the Jews.“My father’s house was at No. 46 Juknaiciai St. in the shtetl of Lygumai. My father was named Yosef Yehuda (Yudel) ben Yisrael Leibovichene (1893-1974), which became Leibowitz after the family’s arrival in South Africa.” Max remembers his father telling him how he and other youngsters used to go to the forest on a regular basis, each time to collect 14 or 15 stones, either dolomite or limestone, both of which are found in abundance in Lithuania. The stones would be carried back to Lygumai, heated up and then placed in the mikve , or ritual bath, to warm the water.The stones, which cracked from the heat and subsequent rapid cooling by the water, would then be crushed for use as sealing cement between the wooden slats used to build house walls. Crushed dolomite and limestone are both well-known source min- erals used in the manufacture of cement and concrete, which was an important industry in modern Lithuania.Max’s father recalled later being employed to build large grottos for the church, which housed scenes from the nativity. The same stones as the one used for the mikve , bonded with the cement made from the crushed stones, were used to build the grot- tos. The church officials offered them food, customary at that time, as partial payment for their work. His father remembers that they refused to eat the food, as it was not kosher, and were paid in cash for their labor.Max’s father, Yudel, left Lygumai in 1929, bound for South Africa and a new life, ac- companied by his friend Lazer Perkiss, des- tined to be the sexton and cantor in Benoni Shul for many years. Yudel’s siblings Mor - ris, Sarah and Harry left at the same time, together with a number of others whom Yu- del persuaded to leave, who had warned of the dark clouds he foresaw.Antisemitic Lithuanian partisans had threatened them, given that Yudel, his brothers and others had hidden ammunition, guns and explosives in caves in the forest so they could defend themselves. Memories of the pogroms and ongoing antisemitism spurred them on. Running away from Lithuania was their only option. Yudel left an inventory for Max, showing that in 1925 they had buried a steel box with 16 .303 rifles, knives, old swords and 2,000 rounds of ammunition. The box was buried and marked with a stone mound near the Kruoja River, which runs near Lygumai. Jews were victimized, attacked and often killed, and the weapons were to be used to prevent further pogroms. The Lithuanian nationalist movement, which started in the early 1920s, grew apace with similar nationalist trends in Europe. Records and personal anecdotes show there was no shortage of willing helpers among the Lithuanians in attacking and killing the Jews once the Nazis occupied Lithuania.Max’s paternal grandparents, mother and three siblings followed Yudel to South Africa in 1933, finally arriving at their new home in Benoni, east of Johannesburg, in August 1934. The first stage of the journey had been by horse cart from Lygumai to the narrow gauge railway line, 7 km from the town.From there they traveled by train to the nearest station on the main Shavel- Panevezys line. Onward to Hamburg by rail, their journey of six weeks covered a distance of 1,500 km. The same journey today would take 15 hours. From Hamburg they boarded a ship to London, and after many delays, they eventually set sail from Southampton to Cape Town, finally reach- ing Benoni for a family reunion and a new life.A year later, Max Leibowitz was born in South Africa, destined to enjoy a privileged childhood and upbringing, nurtured on the stories of a past that he never experienced. As a young man in Benoni, Max was always on hand to help the young Jewish boys who were frequently attacked by members of the local Lebanese community. This behavior is certainly in keeping with the tradition handed down by his father, who was armed and ready to defend the Jews of Lygumai. Another former South African, Barry Mann, now a resident of Salt Lake City, Utah, has dedicated much of his life to obtaining information about Lygumai, most of which has been passed on to Max. All the information at Barry’s disposal can be viewed at http://kehilalinks.jewishgen.org/ lygumai/History.htm. The site provides useful information to anybody looking for information and photographs about the shtetl and Lygumai, where Barry’s ancestors originated.Max married and raised children in South Africa, who, with one exception, all went on to make aliya. He and his wife, Yvonne, followed nine years ago. Max firmly believes that he was destined to make aliya and to be able to live in Israel where news- papers regularly carry articles about the Holocaust, many of which are stories of family members who have been found after so many years.Max spends his days going through newspapers and other relevant sources that might give him clues as to the fate of his family, never despairing that he will come across an item or a name that will lead him to the surviving remnant.In the final analysis, the decision to leave Lithuania in 1929 might have robbed Max of his childhood there, but in all probability, it saved his unborn life from the Holocaust.
