The Shabas Goy

Life in the shtetel plodded on with a dull, hard, regular rhythm.   It remained so without change for hundreds of years.   People worked in the same occupations, wore their clothes in the same fashions,  and behaved in the same manner from generation to generation. They were born, went to Hebrew school, married, had their own children, and generally died at an early age.

All their energy went into earning  just enough to stay alive.

A few men were craftsmen of various forms; tailors, shoe makers, woodworkers, and the makers of distinctive yellow sheep skin overcoats that almost all the peasants wore. These men cured the skin of the sheep with the hair still on in the inside.

Some pious Jews never worked.  They sat in the big prayer house and studied the Torah.  It was up to their wives to earn some money.  Often, in our shtetel, they did so by  sitting under a large covered arch selling fruits and vegetables.  This arch was in front of the stores and the open market.  In the winter it was terribly cold.  Each woman had a clay pot filled with burning charcoal sitting on the ground, and they covered them with their long skirts so that it warmed their feet,  legs,  and the lower part of their bodies.

Some men were both the tenders and merchants of the fruit orchards.  As the fruit ripened they stayed in the orchards and guarded the precious  bounty.   Once harvested, they packaged and transported the fruit to the bigger towns where they would sell them.  They would then return, waiting out the winter,  to start the cycle all over again.

The shtetel dwellers' lives were deeply entwined with their religion. To them God was a very personal God who knew everything and kept track of all they did.  If there was any transgression, the punishment would surely come – if not here, then later in the next world.

The Sabbath, and all the holidays, were observed in an unchanging manner.  These days  brought respect and  joy, and certain special foods that were served only for these occasions. 

The Shabas had its own set of regulations.  There were many things that were prohibited.  Any deviation from custom was unthinkable.

The Shabas was holy.  No work, no making of fire, no cooking -- you could not even turn off the lamps that were used on Friday nights.

Yet the people had to live, and that’s where the Shabas Goy came in.

This was usually a Polish gentile woman who knew what to do without being told.  It was, in effect, a "wink"  towards God.  

"We did not do it…..we didn’t tell her what to do."  (It was equally sinful if we did it by ourselves.)

It was the work of a Goy, a gentile.  Some women performed this work in  more than one Jewish home, and they were paid later in the week.

But we had our own private Shabas Goy.  I remember her as Jadwiga.  She played a great part in our lives, and I will never forget her.   To pay her for her services would have been an insult.   She knew what needed to be done, how to do it, and she did it well.

We reciprocated with other kindnesses.  The doors to our family homes were never locked, and Jadwiga came and went anytime she wanted.  On Friday night, after the family had eaten their Shabas meal, she would come in and quietly remove the dishes, wash them, and then put them away.  She made sure that everything was in order, checking the candles as they burned down.  A little later, when we went to sleep, she would extinguish the burning lamps.  There was no longer a need to use up the kerosene.  The last lamp to be put away was near my father’s bed where he liked to read until he fell asleep.  She would turn it off very quietly, very cautiously, and then she would disappear.

On Saturday morning, while we were still in our beds, Jadwiga would come in and start a good fire in our furnace to warm up the house.  She would then put up the tea pot to warm the water, moving on to do the same chores in our other family house where my grandparents lived. She would then come back at noon, unseal the big ovens and remove all the clay pots containing the very hot cholents that had been simmering since Friday afternoon.

The wonderful smell made us hungry.  Thus we could all enjoyed the Shabas without committing any transgressions against God’s will.

In spite of all  of Jadwiga's moving about and working, she seemed to be almost invisible.  She would do her work without speaking, and once done, she would simply disappear.  God must have been pleased.

To the west of our family’s big house, the one with the workshop in the front looking outward towards the Market square, was the long, low house that belonged to Jadwiga’s family.  This smiling young woman had a young, very energetic, husband, and two small children.  Both his and her parents lived in the eastern part of the rambling house.

The part nearest to our home was rented out.  For awhile a  young Catholic priest lived there.  He always was seen with a even younger Polish peasant girl who we were told was hired to take care of the house.  At one point the young woman disappeared, and a new girl  took her place.

We heard  that the earlier girl was pregnant, and that she  went home to her village, or to another place to have the baby.  The priest was soon transferred to another parish.   It was not long before my Uncle Daniel and his family rented the section of the house where the priest and his housekeeper lived. They white washed it, make some repairs and improvements, and installed a new wooden floor, and windows.  Daniel with his growing family made this a pleasant place. They lived there for a few years until Grandpa’s sister Sosha Tulkop and her children went to America. 

When I was very young, I considered the Polish family of our Shabas Goy to be rich.  They had two large pigs roaming the Shtetel.  They also had two cows that were taken out to pasture every morning ,and returned at night to be milked.  That is where we got our fresh milk.  All our fresh vegetables came from their very large fertile fields.

Their chickens mixed with our poultry – their children grew up with us.

But everything changed with the German occupation. 

In 1914, the First World War broke out.  I was then an infant.  The Russian occupiers of our little town were chased out and the Germans took over.  And with them came new regulations and restrictions, making life even harder – especially for the Poles who could not understand anything of the German language.  It was a little easier for us because of our Yiddish language we could converse with the occupiers, and even do some work for them.  We also managed to acquire some food which we shared with our neighbors.

The occupiers made the people sweep the areas in front of their homes, again and again.  Since the streets were not paved, the dust was everywhere, and the task to keep these areas clean was impossible The Germans also took away all the livestock, confiscated the stocks and contents of all the stores, and even stole the chickens.  Having no choice, we all lived in these conditions. 

And then tragedy struck!

The Plague – Typhus

And I remember this well.  The "Plague" hit us hard.  This plague was Typhus, and as it raged it killed many of our people.  Being so long ago none of today's powerful medications were known or available.  No one in our shtetel knew about contagious bugs or microbes.  Hygiene, as we practice it today, was unknown.  Death raged on and on, seemingly without stopping.

The hospital beds were full of dying people. The young doctor was helpless.  Dr. Talanda ran from one sick house to the next.  A few survived, most who came down with the disease did not. The two Jewish "Felchers" (health care givers) didn’t know what to do.  All they did was apply "Bankes."  These were small glass cups applied to the backs of the sick.  A small torch heated the air in these vessels, and once the air was very hot, the open end was quickly applied to the patient's back.  As the air in the cups cooled, a partial vacuum was created causing suction.  The patient's back was covered with these cups until it turned almost black.  This was supposed to bring about better circulation which was thought to be helpful.

The very pious women ran to the Jewish cemetery, and in front of their dead ancestors, they cried and beseeched them to interfere and stop the dying.

Some men and women ran into the Shul during the prayer sessions. They ran to the Holy Ark, tore off the drapes, and opened the doors where the Holy Torahs were stored.  Surely this place was God’s Home, and so they begged the Holy One to stop the plague.

The authorities declared that when a person died the garments he wore, and the sheets he laid on, were to be brought out of the home and burned outside. Every morning we saw these eerie fires that frightened everyone.

A great deal of charity was given to the poor.  The pious looked for sinners and forms of neglect that angered God, and of course, they found it.  There was an old watch maker (watch repairer), a widower, living alone and this was a sin.  There was also a young orphan girl, completely alone and neglected.  She surely would never acquire a dowry and would never find a husband. 

A hasty wedding was arranged.  Both Rabbis came and performed the marriage ceremony.  Almost all the people of the shtetel attended.  It was held at the cemetery so that all the dead could see that we were doing all the right things in a effort to have their spirits  intervene to stop the Typhus.  A reception was held in the Prayer house.  Gifts were brought – mostly old dishes and pots and other household items.

The mismatched couple retired to the old abandoned watch maker’s basement home. 

The plague did not stop.

One of my father’s friends, a young man, came down with the disease.  Papa took a few things with him and vowed that he alone would take care of his friend.  Papa stayed with this friend for a few days.  When he came home, he told us that all was well now with his friend. Papa then went into the kitchen (we had no inside bathroom) and removed all his clothes, put them in a big pot filled with water, lit a fire, and let his garments stay for quite a while in the boiling water.  He then washed himself thoroughly with great quantities of hot water and soap.

We were lucky. No one in all of our immediate family tribe became sick with Typhus.

One morning, we were informed that Jadwiga was sick with typhus.  My mother became very agitated and started to give orders (normally she never did this). 

"I will take care of Jadwiga."

 She ordered Jadwiga's  husband to take the children and the older parents to the far end of their building.

"I need a big pot of chicken soup and right away," she almost screamed, "and a bag of baking soda , also a bottle of Vodka, and the "kanna" (the pot that was used to give an enema).  Enema bags were not yet invented.  The kanna was a narrow pot that held about a quart of water, fitted with a strange little hose made of tightly woven material that carried the warm water to the rectum.

"No solid food." ordered my mother. "Keep the stomach empty and clean."

Mother, with her package of medications, some of her own discovery, and some given to her by Dr. Talanda such as "headache powders" (I think it was quinine), locked herself in with the patient, and started to administer help.  Enemas and more enemas, many spoons of hot chicken soup, and lots of rubbing of Jadwiga’s back and chest with the Vodka.

This went on all night.  In the morning, Mama ordered another pot of soup (to be left outside, as no one was to enter the house).  All day long mother sat at the bedside and kept on talking.  Only later did she let her patient sleep.  Mother let us know that although Jadwiga was better; her fever now gone, she would again stay with her patient all night.

She did so, and in the morning she called in Jadwiga's  husband and turned over the care giving to him.

Mama returned home, and in the kitchen, just as Papa had done, she took off all her clothes and boiled them in hot water. 

Evidently my parents had stumbled on the connection between hygiene and contamination.

Jadwiga and my mother, understandingly, became very very close.

The Christian Medallion

Eventualy the plague stopped.  The war ended, the Germans retreated, Poland became free and independent, and again Anti Semitism flourished.

The great immigration to America and other places was now in full swing.  Papa left for America in 1920.  Five years later he became a citizen.  His two sisters gave him some money and urged him to send for us.

It was a sad good-bye.  We knew that we would miss our birth land and our family and friends.  Mother and Jadwiga embraced and they both cried a lot.  I clearly recall a scene involving the two women.  Jadwiga insisted on giving Mama her most valuable procession, a silver medallion that she had been given to her some time before.  She said it had been blessed by the Arch Bishop of Lublin.  She insisted that this would bring mother very good luck and would protect her on her journey to America.  Mother tried to refuse this most personal and valuable gift.  Finally she relented and graciously accepted the medallion. Mama wrapped in a silk handkerchief and placed it in her private suitcase which she kept with her at all times.

We took a train to Gdynia on the Baltic, said a farewell to Poland, boarded a small ship together with about 200 other travelers, and journeyed to Antwerp, Belgium to take the big ship, The Arabic, to the U.S.A.

But it was not to be.  Another tragedy struck us!

The American consulate discovered that Mama had an infection on some of her finger nails, and unless it was cured, she could not enter the U.S.A.

Bewilderment! We were truly strangers in a strange land.  We did not speak the language.  We had no friends and no money.

Our situation became desperate and then unexpectedly  "angels" appeared.  They came in the form of HIAS - Hebrew Immigration Aid Society.  They immediately took charge, assuring us that they would take care of everything necessary.  They gave us rooms in a hotel with Yiddish speaking personnel.  They also arranged for free meals in a kosher restaurant, arranged for doctors to treat Mama's infection, gave us a little money, and promised to watch out over us.

It was also decided that I should go on by myself to meet my father.  It was a sad journey, having to travel alone, and to leave my family.

Mother went through hell for three months.  They operated on her and removed a few finger nails.   At last the journey to New York for my mother, brother and little sister could begin.  The ship passage was followed by 6 or 7 days on the train to San Francisco.

Papa and I met the exhausted family at the train station and brought them home to 637 Central Avenue in San Francisco  where we lived for many years.  I worked days and went to school at night.  The younger children learned English very quickly– both were good scholars.

About three months later, I asked Mama to show me the "Christian Medallion."  She blushed.   "Maybe it didn’t work for Jews." 

She implied that she had lost it, or maybe misplaced it, or perhaps it was stolen.  She could not explain it.  I saw that she felt guilty, so I never again brought it up.

I have a feeling that she sent it back to Jadwiga where it belonged.

We will never know, but so long as this story is read, a link to their friendship remains.