Page 69 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text

Wisoka Mazovieck

pushed themselves out from under that railway car bench, and
unfortunately touched the foot of a woman who was sitting next to
David. Hiding under seats or in the washrooms of the railway is a
daily occurrence among the poor people of that country. It is
tolerated by the passengers, as the railroad belongs to the
government, which is hated by the Poles and the Jews. But that
woman felt insulted by my touching her foot. She called the
conductor and showed him my hiding place. I was pulled out and
marched to the open platform of the car for questioning, but I could
not speak Polish or Russian very well—and it would not have helped
if I could. The conductor slapped me good and hard on the face until
my ears were red. All I could do was holler and cry, which brought
out some of the passengers to see what had happened. Several men,
Poles, saw a bully hitting a small boy, and reprimanded the conductor
for his barbarous actions. They shamed him, and he desisted from
beating me, but warned me that he would put me off the train at the
next station. The passengers wanted to know where I was going.
After I told them I was going to Wisoka to study, they took pity on
me and advised me to get off quickly at the station, and then get back
on as soon as the whistle blew for leaving again. I did, and went the
whole way without paying the fare.
The boys who come to a yeshiva from every corner of the state
subsist on the support of the local Jewish population. It is a moral
duty and the pride of a Jewish family to feed one of these students
one day a week. When a boy passes the entrance examination and is
accepted, he solicits from house to house every Jewish home, asking
for a day, as it is called. When it is offered, he eats on that day every
week in that house for the next six months. Wisoka was a poor little
town; it was very hard to get seven patrons to support a boy.
I was just away from Mama’s apron, the first time away from
home, shy and afraid to look up into a woman’s face. I was tortured
both by hunger and soliciting the days. I hadn’t any money from
home with me, and David was a tight boy. I happened to get only
five people to give me food. The rest of the days I had to eat at a
charity kitchen. About a dozen boys could not find all the days they
needed, so the women—who are everywhere interested in charity—
went out, gathered food from the small merchants, and cooked three
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