Interviewer: Adi Sharon and Inbal Zur Eytan
Family Name: Aharon
First Name: Yafa
Birth Date: 1935
Town In Holocaust: Lepsig
Country In Holocaust: Romania
Address Today: living in Kfar Saba
Yafa Aharon
I was born in a small town called "Lepsic", that's in Romania, in 1935. My father owned a butcher's shop, and the store was part of our home. As a child, I remember my room, which I shared with my brothers and sisters, at the back of the store. My father was religious, and used to attend the synagogue that was near our home.
My story is one of wandering from town to town, and not of death camps. The reason we weren't sent to the death camps was that we were under the rule of a royal family, at the time of a king. The wealthy of Jews went to see him, when the war started, and asked him for protection. In return, they were willing to give him almost everything. Of course, the king asked for gold. The Jews gathered all they had, from gold watches to necklaces, rings and earrings, until the king was satisfied and prevented their deportation to the Ghettos.
When the war stated, in 1941, I was 6 years old so I don't remember much of my life before it. As the war began, my father was sent to a forced work camp, along with all men above the age of 18. Because of that age limit, my oldest brother, who was 17 at the time, was saved.
The Goys who lived in our town told us that we had to evacuate our home for only two weeks, and then we would be allowed to return, but up until this very day I have yet to see my old home.
One of the memories that is branded into my mind, is the story of my uncle's and the cousin's death. My aunt, my mother's sister, lived in a town called "Yajik". At the time, an order was posted saying that all Jews must come to the police station in order to print an authorization that would allow us, as Jews, to walk the town's streets. Our situation was as bad as this. Before leaving home for the police station, my uncle told my aunt that he would take a golden clock and some money with him, so that if something happened and one of the goys messed with him and threatened his life, he would give him the watch, buy his safety and save his life.
A few hours passed, and my uncle was nowhere to be found. My aunt began to worry that something might have happened to him, so she sent her son, Nilo, to look for him. Nilo was a student, and wasn't even 18. I didn't know him very well. A few more hours went by, but neither Nilo nor my uncle came back. My aunt almost went crazy with worry, and she began searching the streets for them. My aunt couldn't find them, and thus assumed they had been taken to a forced work camp. She wrote my mom, asking her to write to my father in the camp, so that he would hear what had happened and search the camp for them. My father couldn't find them.
Years later, I found out that all the Jews who were caught out on the streets that day were forced to stand in a line in front of the police station's wall, and were cruelly shot to death. Those who survived the shooting were shoved into cattle carts and were kept aimlessly for days with no food or water, until they died.
At the time, we lived in another town, called "Faltichen" (Fălticeni), and we were told to stay quiet and do nothing in reaction to the horrors we heard, much less complain, for the fear of being sent to Auschwitz.
When we moved to Faltichen, my oldest sister passed away. When she was a baby she had been dropped on her head, and thus spent her life in a vegetated state. Around that time, we were told we had to wear the yellow patch, the absolute symbol for us being Jewish. One of the episodes carved into my memory on this terrible subject is that one day, in one of the many towns we lived in during our journey, my mom decided to go to the market place to buy some food and my little sister and I came along. At the time the Jews were only allowed to approach the market place after 10pm, after all the goys had bought their groceries during the earlier hours, all this to create separation between us and them.
After we left our home my little sister began yelling "I forgot my patch!". She did not feel safe without it and wanted to return home and get it. I looked at her and saw that she really did not have the patch on, while I had mine on the front of my dress. She continued with her tantrum, not agreeing to continue walking, so I told mother to carry her. My sister was five or six years old. My mother did as I said, taking her and carrying her, and so we finished our shopping.
Today, I know that the master plan behind that symbol was so that they would be able to recognize us as Jews easily. So they could, when they needed to, gather us all and take us away. But at the time, we thought the symbol was meant for our safety, we weren't told otherwise. In the case of my sister, I panicked and gave her my patch. That's the way we were, my mother, my sister and I, as my brothers went to school and my father was forced to work against his will. I do not remember when my father came back, yet I know he did and from that point on he worked in manual labor.
On a different occasion, my mother went out to buy some milk before 10pm, before the hours Jews were allowed to shop in the market. There was a goy woman in our neighborhood, who sold milk to Jews, which was not legal. A cop spotted my mother, and took her into custody. While she was in custody, she told the officers that she had a very sick child at home, who if she did not feed, would die. The police sent an officer to check if she'd been telling the truth. When he came, he saw my sick sister, and let my mother go.
In 1943, when I was 8 years old I began my studies in the synagogue. One day, two Russian soldiers came into our city, armed. I remember when it happened because it was before Pesah. My father tried to talk to them, and asked them if any of them knew Yidish. They did, and another man knew only one word "Mame", which meant mother. It is possible that his mother was Jewish. A few days later we were approached by other Russian soldiers, and were told we had to leave town. They told us that since we lived near a bridge and a river, there was a danger that the enemy would bomb the bridge and we would die. The fear of death moved us and kept us traveling.
The next town we arrived at was German by looks. In that town we suffered bombing from both the Americans and the Russians. Walking the streets was a life-threatening activity. We lived in a fairly large house, and my father told us to stay put most hours of the day. He opened a new butcher's shop, and soon a man came claiming the shop was his. My father, who did not wish to fight, gave up the shop.
After the shop was taken away, my dad decided we had to move to live next to his brother, who lived in Botechin, Moldavia. In that town we joined my father's single sister and she began living with us. After moving to that town, I began, at 8 and half years of age, first grade. The local kids were in higher classes, but as an effect of my constant wandering I didn't have the possibility of going to school regularly, thus causing a gap in my education. I studied 4 grades in that town, but because of the age difference I couldn't carry on, even though I was an excellent student. My mother, in an attempt to at least give me a profession, sent me to a seamstress, so she could teach me how to sew. I learned under her guidance for two years, while the paper-work declaring our stay in town went through city hall
When I was sixteen years of age, my family and I came to a decision. We decided to immigrate to Israel and continue our lives there. My twin brothers, who at that time were 18 years old, had already had a passport of their own, and therefore had no trouble leaving Romania. I, on the other hand, was still included on my father's passport and the paperwork delayed the process. Because of that, we came to Israel a week after them. My brothers lived in tents in Pardes Hana, 
but when we arrived we stayed in Haifa for three weeks and then moved to Ra'anana.
but when we arrived we stayed in Haifa for three weeks and then moved to Ra'anana.Ra'anana of the 1950s' was not like the Ra'anana of today: the land was not developed, and the area was not very populated. Not knowing the language made it difficult for us, and we could hardly ask for help or guidance. I was only 16, and our condition looked hopeless. In the refugee camp there was not enough water for everybody, and people's behavior deteriorated to stealing watermelons, which were full of water, in order to drink and eat from them.
Because of the lack of water, a truck full of water jugs was brought in order to hand one out to each family. When my mother went to bring us a jug, she told us to wait for her outside the tent. Since there was nothing to identify one tent from another, and there were over two hundred tents, she needed to see us in order to know which tent to go to. The heat made it hard on her, and she walked around with a wet bandana to chill her forehead.
Beside the lack of water, there were harder conditions that made that time difficult for my family and me. The circular tent that we lived in was very small, and the beds that were given to us were very narrow, and were not much more than 4 metal feet, a number of wooden slates, a thin mattress and a very thin blanket.
While we were living in Ra'anana, we asked to move to a place called Kadima. My father had a sister who lived there and we wanted to live with her. We didn't know anything about the place, all we wanted was to see a familiar face. Our request was denied, because there was no room for us there. Therefore, we stayed in Ra'anana for two and a half years.
After a while in the refugee camp, I decided to look for a job. In Kfar Batia I found a nice Polish man and I asked him if he had a job for me. When he asked what jobs I could do, I didn't know what to answer. All I said was "I, refugee camp". It was Thursday, and he told me to return on Sunday morning.
When I came on Sunday morning, I found out that there were two girls who worked there who I knew, one was from the refugee camp and the second was from Ra'anana. Quickly, we began working together. We prepared the land for planting, and planted all sorts of things: tomatoes, aubergine… the work was hard and very exhausting, and my lack of knowledge in Hebrew made the process even harder.
After that period of time, we heard that apartments were being built in Petah Tikva. When we came to see what the fuss was all about, all we saw were bricks and concrete. When we asked what was going on, we were told that they were still in the process of building. We were told that we had a few options: we could either move to Petah Tikva, Bat Yam, Rosh Ha'ain or Neve Kibush, which was an Arab village. I could not imagine moving to Rosh Ha'ain, because the place had a bad reputation, so I convinced my father to pick Petah Tikva. After a few months, when the apartment was finished, we moved to Petah Tikva.
After we moved to Petah Tikva, I left my job and had to look for a new one. Many things made it hard for me. I had no earlier experiences, and above it all didn't know Hebrew well enough. In the refugee camp, back in Ra'anana, I was offered a job as a nurse or a hair dresser, but because of the language I looked for something different.
I went to the job center in Petah Tikva, and there I was told there was a weaving factory where I could work. They made strings in many colors. The first time I went into the factory, I was shocked. The yelling by the people and the loud noise of the machines scared me very much. Luckily, my brother had studied the subject in Bucharest, so he knew what I was talking about when I got home, and helped me relax.
A few months later I was fired from the factory, and went once again to the job center. This time I was sent to a different textile factory, one that made strings for mops. I worked very long shifts, sometimes more than one a day. From 6 am to 2 pm, and from 2 pm to 10 pm. I quickly found that one of my neighbors also worked there, and we used to walk to work together. We were both very glad that we had jobs.
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A year later, I went to Tel Aviv, and while I was there I heard that the factory I was working in had burnt down. Jobless, I returned home. I was then 18 years old, and had received an enlistment paper from the army. I went to the army base. I was asked there how well I knew Hebrew, and if I knew how to read and write. I answered positively, but didn’t understand a word that they said.
When my brother heard of the situation, he went to my commander and told him of the family. He himself and two more of my brothers served in the army, and he asked to let me stay at home in order to help with the finances. That’s why I didn’t serve in the army.
Before I married my husband, he wanted me to move to his house in Kfar Saba. We lived in a rented apartment, and at some point the lady who owned it decided to sell it. Today, 20 apartments exist on that land.
A year after my marriage, I gave birth to my first son, Abraham, in 1964. Two years later came his younger brother, Yaakove, and in 1975 I gave birth to the youngest of the brothers, Yizthak. All three of my children served in the army, and nowadays live in Israel. The three of them are married, and gave me wonderful grandchildren.
Jews of Romania
Between the two world wars:
World war one, during which 882 Jewish soldiers died while defending Romania, brought about the creation of greater Romania as a result of the 1919 Paris Peace Conference. The state had an increased Jewish population, and therefore decided to change its policy toward the Jews, promising to award them citizenship and minority rights.
In politics, the Jews were represented by both the "Jewish Party" and the "Federation of Jewish Communities of Romania". The popularity of anti-Semitism was, nevertheless, on the rise, and new types of anti-Semitic ideas appeared. After a few years, anti-Semitism was described as "spiritual health" and was supported by the government. The Jews' citizenship was taken away from them, their licenses were withdrawn, and they were excluded from all affiliated bodies.
The threats of the power that Nazi Germany had to attack made King Carol II adopt racial discrimination. However, he himself was very hostile of anti-Semitism, partially because his lover was a Jew. He soon returned to his original beliefs but now he also used violence. In 1940, Carol was overthrowed by Antonescu, and the anti-Jewish policy began once more.
World War II:
Romania entered the war in "Operation Barbarossa" (1941), and from then violence against Jews became common. About a month later, Jews were forced to wear the well known yellow badges. Following the advancing Romanian army after "Operation Barbarossa", Antonescu ordered the deportation of 140,000 Jews to Transnistria, because they were considered communist agents. This process involved killing many Jews before sending them off into "Death Trains" to concentration camps.
Half of the estimated 320,000 Jews that lived on Romania where killed between 1941 and 1944. After a wave of random killings, the Jews suffered from pogroms or were being concentrated in Ghettos, depending on which part of Romania they lived in.
The majority of Romanian Jews survived the war, despite the horrible things they went through. The number of victims, however, makes Romania responsible for death of more Jews than any country other than Germany itself.
Post War:
After the war was over, 428,312 Jews were counted in Romania. Throughout the years, masses of Jews have made "Alia" to Israel, and in 1960 less than 100,000 Jews were left in the country. The situation of Jews has improved, but the community has shrunk and today only 15,000 Jews live in Romania.
