Translation by Daphna Brafman Coordinated by Tilford Bartman
Sarah Subotnik-Gellerstein
Translation by Daphna Brafman Coordinated by Tilford Bartman
Sarah Subotnik-Gellerstein
Thanks to my father, Rabbi Avraham Akiva Subotnik of blessed memory, our town was saved from destruction in 1914.
When the news that the German Army is approaching our town had arrived many of the town's residents began escaping- some by wagons and some by foot- and heading towards Bialystock. They deserted everything, their homes, their shops, their entire property was deserted.
Zabludow was like a ghost town and a deep silence was everywhere. Only on Bilska Street, from the home of the Rabbi, a monotonous voice was heard reading psalms, the voice of the rabbi. The Rabbi, face with long white beard, silently stepped along the walls chanting the hymns of psalms. He alone remained in town with a deep strong belief that god shall provide help and because of the responsibility of a leader, in whose hands the fate of the community is placed, and regardless of the fact that his life in endangered.
I, the only daughter, and my younger brother Yehoshua, pleaded and demanded that our parents will also join those who leave before it's too late. But our demands did not bear fruit. Our parents decided to send us, and they were determined in that decision: they shall not leave the place. Although we were very young, we felt that we should not leave our parents- and we remained with them.
Tow factors were in favor of my father while saving the town: a) before escaping the town's dignitaries had gathered in my father's home and gave him a good amount of money to try and redeem the town with money if such a possibility arises. B) One of my father's friends, Yoseph Yablonski, member of the City Council, educated and knows several languages, was unable to leave on time and thus remained with us.
On the first night, awhile the town was empty of its residents, many Russian soldiers went through it on their way back east and they were blowing houses on the way out. Robbing and stealing all they can lay their hands on. Twice that night Cossacks broke into our home, savagely aiming their weapons at my father. We begged, cried asked for mercy- and to this day I don't understand our miraculous survival.
On Saturday morning the "burners" came. This is the name used to describe the gangs of Cossacks who always came right after the Russian Army, and their duty was to destroy, burn and erase settlements on their retreat. They arrived divided into "stafs" and immediately began "their duty". My father and his friend began to act: they offered the "burners" big sums of money, begged, and first tried to save synagogues and other public buildings.
I remember very well how one such group appeared in our yard and at once began burning the Beit Hamidrash that was close to our home. I went out to them and began to talk to them saying that if the give up they shall have a lot of money. Hearing the word money made them stop, and I hurried to look for my father. He came right away and they left the place after a short discussion and a payment.
Some parts of the edge of town did burn entirely, places my father did not reach on time. It was clear that these Cossacks, who came riding their wild horses intended to destroy the Jewish town completely and leave nothing to the Germans. Thanks to my father's deep faith and courage the town of Zabludow remained standing and its old synagogue was saved.
