Moldova

      I wanted to describe our visit to Moldova on our recent Eastern European trip. Also here are a few photos of the country.

Soroca, Moldova, built on the hills overlooking the Dniester River. Note the Communist style housing on the hillside. Soroca is built on several hills along the Dniester River.

     Our visit to Moldova was very personal in multiple ways. The country currently called Moldova  is located between the Prut and Dniester Rivers, and is bordered by Romania on the west and by Ukraine on the north, east and south. During its complex history this area has changed hands between Romania and Russia many times. It was also under the influence of the Ottoman Turks though not occupied by this Empire. In the early millenia of the Common Era, this area was part of Moldavia which with Wallachia and Transylvania made up the Romanian monarchy. This area between the Prut and Dniester was called Bessarabia after one of the first ruling dynasties founded by Basarab the Great, who in the 1300s became a vassal of the Hungarian empire. But then the Basarab fought against the Hungarians and founded the first Romanian royal dynasty. After Russia conquered the area in 1812, it was called Bessarabia for much of the time that my husband's family lived there.

Agricultural tranport is still done in this way. No money to buy petrol for other machinery.

     My husband's family lived in Bessarabia from at least the early 1800s. The Russian Czar Nicholas wanted to populate this area with people that would be loyal to Russia. He broadcast word that pioneers on this frontier would be given land, would be free from paying taxes for 2 to 5 years and in some areas would be free from military conscription. So the people came -- some of them German, some Polish, and many of them Jewish. In the early 1800s the Russian government further decided to help the Jewish pioneers establish agricultural settlements that would perhaps solve what was considered to be a problem with where to settle all the Jews that were coming. Dombroveni was the first such Agricultural Settlement established in Bessarabia and my husband's ancestors joined this community. During the 4 generations that lived in that village before its destruction during WWII, they endured poverty, discrimination against Jews, pogroms, conscription into the Romanian army, and conscription into the Russian army, and other social stresses. My husband's parents saw evidence of upcoming problems for Jews in the area and were simultaneously enthused in the local Zionist movement which sponsored youth groups in the small Jewish villages of Bessarabia. Though we knew many of these communities were destroyed either by the retreating Russians, by Romanian neighbors or by the invading Nazis, during our May, 2010 visit to Moldova (Bessarabia) we hoped to be able to find  where these communities were and what the lay of the land was at the very least.


Abacus used in Dumbraveni grocery store

       Our first visit related to Amos' parents was to Constantza on the Black Sea. Moshe, Amos' dad, had embarked from there to imigrate from Bessarabia (now Moldova) to Israel in 1932. We went through the local museum and found photos of the port and the adjacent downtown square from the 1920s. Though we could not get close to it the Maritime Authority building was present then and is still present now. It is almost certain that this is the building that Moshe and later his wife Bracha would have immigrated through. Also several of the buildings that are currently on the square were also present in a 1920s photo so Moshe would have seen them. One does feel close to a deceased ancester when one can view where they were and where they traveled when they were beginning such a big event as an immigration to another country.
     After touring Bucharest and then northern Romania, the area called Transylvania, we drove to the border city of Iasi (pronounced Yash) and crossed into Moldova. Moshe would also have been in Iasi where the office of the local  Zionist Jewish Federation was located. This was the nearest city to Balti where Moshe attended an agricultural camp which was designed to prepare immigrants to learn how to farm before going to Israel.  But Moshe had grown up in an agricultural household and knew what they were teaching at the camp, so he was put in charge of obtaining funds from the Jewish Agency in Iasi and later in Beltsi, purchasing goods for the camp and supervising their transport back to that camp. We did find a synogogue in Iasi that might have been there and active when Moshe was there. We also passed Beltsi where the camp was located though of course we didn't know exactly where the camp had been.
     We entered Moldova and met with our new Moldovan guide, and then we drove completely across the northern part of the small country to Soroca, where we stayed that night. Moshe had more sentimental connections with Sorocca. Moshe's father, Itzhak, died when he was 12 years old. His mother, Hanie, along with her several daughters worked to maintain the family business after Itzhak's death, but she really wanted her son to get a secondary education. So she arranged for Moshe to travel the 12 miles to Soroca and to stay with friends in order to attend a Jewish high school there. Hanie packed a weeks worth of food for Moshe including produce from the farm, bread, and preserves.  He would travel there on Sunday with a farm wagon that was making the trip, then stay the week with these friends. He wrote that his weekdays consisted of arising early and attending prayers at one of the local synogogues, then after prayers, he would stop at a local tea shop where he would order tea to go with the bread and preserves that his mother had sent with him. Then he would attend school and return to his home to study in the evening. On early Shabbat eve he would get a ride back to Dombroveni to be home with his family on Shabbat. Each week was a repetition of this pattern. On one occasion Moshe forgot his bag of food at home. Later that day Hanie appeared at the home where Moshe stayed; she had walked all the way from Dumbroveni with Moshe's food. Moshe begged her to stay the night and even went to talk with his landlord to see if there was an extra bed for her to sleep on. But she absolutely refused to stay, saying that she had to get back to take care of the business. Moshe recalled walking with his mother as she left the town, and then watching as she trudged out of town and disappeared from sight over one of the hills, striking tears from his eyes at her great devotion. We found the city of Sorocca to be a relatively modern city nestled between and on several hills along the Dniester River. We could easily envision Hanie walking the wagon rutted trail out of town to the south and returning to her home town of Dumbraveni.


Synogogue in Soroca



Inside the Soroca Synogogue. Small active congregation.

     The people on the street in Sorroca were anxious to help us find respresentations for former Jewish life in the city. At one time there were 12 synogogues in the city, but now there is only one. It is small and poor but it still functions. A passerby on the street told us how to get there. We found the small synogogue locked up, but another passerby offered to ride with our driver to find the man who would be able to open it for us. He was soon back and then the religious leader of the synogogue also came by to allow us into the main sanctuary. We are not sure if this was a synogogue that Moshe would have used or not.

Unpaved main street, Dumbraveni, raining. 

     After Sorroca, we drove to Dumbraveni, Moshe's home town. We were surprised to find that there was such a village remaining. Apparently most of the homes had been destroyed during WWII along with at least 3 of the 5 synogogues that had been in town. But two synogogues that were made of stone still survived though now used for something else entirely and in poor repair. Many of the homes had been rebuilt and taken over by non Jewish Moldovans. We hoped to find the cemetery and look for names on stones. As we left the main road into the town, we noted that the roads were not paved and there had been lots of recent rain so it was rather muddy and messy. Our guide by this time had learned how we wanted to proceed -- find a passerby or local townsperson and see if they could direct us to Jewish sites that remained from before WWII. A very Eastern European woman was walking along the muddy road wearing a long multicolored skirt, long jacket, rubber boots and a scarf on her head. I think she would have been called in Russian, a "babushka." We stopped to aske her what she could tell us. She immediately said, "Ah, Yehudim. You need to speak with Costia. He knows all about the Jewish times." She asked us to follow her over two blocks to Costia's house.

Costia's house in Dumbraveni

The remains of the DeutschShul Synogogue, Dumbraveni

(Costia is a diminutive for Constantine.) His wife was seated in the front door of their small home and our lady guide told us through our interpreter guide that she was paralyzed, but Costia was out in the separate kitchen behind the house. She went to look for him and soon he returned huffing and puffing to talk with us, immediately lighting up a cigarette. In questioning him through our guide, he reported that he remembered my husband's family, knew that a couple of the sisters had married and moved to Sorroca. He even remembered a couple of their first names. Then he told us that he would take us to see the old synogogue that was still standing. He led us down a slippery dirt drive over one block and down two blocks. Costia was huffing and puffing. He said he had "asthma" but it was clear that the reason for his shortness of breath was emphysema related to his smoking. As we walked, Costia puffed harder. I stopped him, put my hand on his arm and told the guide to tell him I was a doctor and I was worried about his breathing. I suggested that he just point out how to walk and he didn't have to lead us to the synogogue. But Costia turned to me and said "Thank you," in English, but he continued in Romanian, " I must do the right thing."

       After a short further walk, we entered a little field and there at the end of the property stood a large stone shell of  a building with no doors and windows and in poor repair. Costia told us the Nazis had used it as a repair shop and storage for military equipment, later as a blacksmith and by the Russians as a storage for farm implements and most recently to store building supplies. Costia told us that recently (maybe in last few years) someone bought the property and wanted to destroy the synogogue. Costia said, "I, Costia, told this man that that building had been a Jewish Holy House and if he destroyed it, he would surely die." It was not destroyed and Costia said he didn't think it would ever be destroyed. He would later show us a smaller stone building that was in better repair with windows and doors, now being used for a different community purpose which had also been one of the local 5 synogogues. Unfortunately Costia told us that there was not much at the cemetery. He said vandals had destroyed most of the stones and they could not be identified. We could not walk up there to the top of the hill where it was because of the muddy paths. We gave Costia some money and thanked him profusely.

Second synogogue still standing in Dumbraveni, used for another purpose.

     After coming home we were able to find pictures of that old synogogue in the Yiskor book for Dumbraveni and we read about the synogogue in my father in law's short autobiography. He had been a member of this large synogogue while living as a teenager in Dumbraveni. He had learned Hebrew from a young man who boarded at their home and attracted the attention of the Rabbi of this synogogue who would have Hebrew discussion with my father in law. Of course, he left for Israel when he was 19, but it was very interesting to see this town, this old synogogue and the nature of this community where my father in law and 3 previous generations had lived and flourished.

     Later we arrived at Kishinev, the relatively modern capitol of Moldova and found my husband's grandmother's grave in the very large Jewish cemetery. We also visited Kolorash, the village of origin for my mother in law. This city is now quite large, but the small section which was the Jewish village adjacent to the gentile town was destroyed completely by the Russians just before the Nazis tookover Bessarabia, the Russians withdrawing.

     Moldova was always agrarian. It has always been very poor and is very poor to this day. There are large corn and grain fields but rusting Russian farm equipment sits idly in the fields because no one can afford petrol to run the equipment. Horse carts are used for transport, and dozens of women and children cultivate the huge fields by hand with hoes. Indeed, the rural parts of Moldova are a third world country. The countryside is very verdant with small rolling hills, but there is a long way for this country to make it into anything like Western European society.

     This visit has accomplished one great thing. It has prompted my husband to finally take a strong interest in his family tree. By having all these visitors this summer who are members of his family, we have learned several connection in his father's family and a nice complete family tree has been created. And we now have photos of the sites where these family members lived their lives and founded the Selzer family. It was indeed a genealogical trip.
 

Capriani Monastery north of Kishinev, Moldova 



Inside the newly renovated sanctuary.

Obituary tells a story!

     Being a retired physician has prompted me at times to think about the patients who were part of my medical practice and the mechanics of medical practice itself. Now that I am a patient myself, I have reviewed my office visits by how they would appear from the other side (patient side)  of the desk.
     What prompted me to delve into this path of thought was the discovery of an obituary of a former patient of mine. Now I am not an obituary reader, though I am told many people my age are. But I just happened to find this one and low and behold it was for a patient whom I remembered well. M. P. had been in my practice for many years. She really didn't have too many of the chronic diseases that plague most older women. I recall a little bit of diabetes which really didn't require any meds and some high blood pressure that was controlled on 1  med. I know she developed an underactive thyroid while in my care and I had started her on daily thyroid hormone replacement. She had a lot of difficulty whenever she received any kind of diagnosis, and she was very concerned about having to take any kind of medication. Since the thyroid condition would require her to take meds every day for the rest of her life and to occasionally to have blood tests to check on the correct dosage, she was very down about this. She would whine in the office about, "how was she going to do this? How could this have happened to her?" etc. etc. She was also often going on about various family problems that seemed too much for her. Sometimes she would go into the family issues a little and they were usually stories about inter personal relations of some sort. She really didn't have family members who were abusive, or in trouble with the law or anything like that. But the interpersonal problems often were a burden for her. So I recall looking at my schedule and seeing her on the schedule and knowing that I would have to gear up my cheerfulness to get her through the visit and also to get me through the visit.
     So I was quite surprised to see this sentence in the obit that I found: First her many friends and relatives were listed. Then, "M and her husband of 60 years had many close friends before and during their mariage that they maintained over 60+ years. Described by many as a "true lady", M was known for her friendliness, charitable spirit and insistence on putting the needs of others before her own. Her kindness and generosity will never be forgotten."  This did not seem to be the woman who I saw in some ways whining to me during every visit in the medical office. Which is the correct picture? Or are both views true?
     I began to review my own recent medical visits to my own doctors from my view and then how they might seem from the doctor's side of the visit. The doctor sees the patient for a very short time, especially now adays. He/she doesn't know anything about the patient from anywhere else in the outside community. The patient feels the pressure of time of that office visit and has to quickly and emphatically get across to the doctor what is bothering them. There often is not enough time to put these complaints into perspective. I know the difficulty I was having with arm pain after my melanoma surgery and I had to convince my doctors of the degree of this discomfort if I wanted to achieve any success in the treatment of these problems. I particularly felt this need when I returned to my plastic surgeon with these complaints. I felt he was not giving credence to the problems. I guess I did whine a little more than I am used to, but he felt I was under the care of a physical therapist and the therapist reported I was improving so the surgeon felt he didn't need to do anything further. Yet he was the one who had started the pain, obviously, so I felt a strong need to get my suffering across to him against the time pressure that I also felt as the patient.
     So if there is such a vast difference between who people are in everyday life and who they have to be when they go to the doctor, how can the relationship between patient and doctor resolve itself? An excellent question! I think that the oness is on the doctor. He/she must realize that this paradox exists. And the doctor must create sensitivity and listening  and observation skills that can detect the patient's needs and make the patient's communication more efficient. And patients must ask questions and not be shy with the doctor. It turns out that the visit to the doctor's office is one of the most important interpersonal communications that take place in our later life. Each participant needs to understand this and realize how easy it is for this communication to go wrong. I just know that I don't want to be misinterpreted in my visits like I misinterpreted poor M. P. Lets hope that all of you feel comfortable enough with your physician to bring up your concerns and let's hope you have a skillful physician who appreciates the complexities of these interactions.

Note: At the beginning of this post, I used the caduceus, a universal symbol for the field of medicine.  I plan to use this symbol in the future also when the topic is medical. It is familiar to most everyone as an apparent snake, or sometimes two snakes entwined around a pole. The origin of this symbol is quite interesting. Check upcoming posts and I will explain its origin. You may be surprised.

More African Birds!

      This is Ann that is posting these photos, but they are the work of my photographer husband. I received one request for some more of these photos to be posted. I only require one request. So here are more.

Cape turtle dove

White browed robin-chat

African spoonbill

Mirabou stork

Yellow billed stork

Egyptian geese

Black ibis

Pair of Pied kingfishers

Great grey heron

African jacana

Wire tailed swallow

long toed lapwing

glossy ibis

wattled lapwing

open billed stork

African skimmer

Red billed oxpecker on Cape buffalo

Cape White eye

Grey headed gull

That's it. A good mix, I think. Most are fairly large birds that sit still in order to be photographed. But here and there my husband caught a good picture of a small bird. And it was those photos that helped me identify the bird to get them on my life list.

Birds of Botswana

Glossy starling

     I promised you some photos of Botswana birds (also throughout Southern Africa). Here are some of my husbands expert photos.
     But first let me tell you a little how I got into birdwatching and how my husband got in to photographing them. As an adult I have always enjoyed keeping birdfeeders full all year around for the birds. During migration season and during invasions in the winter I enjoyed identifying the various birds that visited the feeders. We then lived in suburbs with housing closer together so we didn't see a lot of these migrants during the year. They did not nest locally. But we lived fairly close to the Milwaukee River, though not on it. I think this location was responsible for some of the attraction. Birds tend to use the River and its surrounds as flyways. I think my first birding trip occurred when we went to Israel for a visit in the 1980s. My husband needed to stay to visit his family there, but I had signed up for a Spring Migration Festival in Eilat, on the Red Sea. That was an interesting time. I will tell that whole story in another posting. Over the years I have attended a few other birding festivals. But mostly during our many travels, I have tried to birdwatch while my husband tears on ahead in the trip. He is not one to stop along the road to identify a special bird I spot through the window, or even to slow down our siteseeing strolls to identify a bird. But then we found some cooperative great blue herons and great egrets which were content to stand still for him to get quite close with his camara. He got some good shots and that is how the bird photography bug bit him. Now he doesn't have the really heavy and long lenses so small birds are not good subjects. But there are a lot of fairly large birds around the world. Africa is certainly no exception. In fact I think there are many more large birds there than in North America and even some of the smaller birds seem to be unafraid of people and pose quite naturally for photography. I think he got some beautiful photos while in AFrica. I have loaded some of them here on this post.

black backed vulture

lilac breasted roller

red billed hornbill

Spotted dikkop or thick knee

helmeted guinea fowl

Kori bustard

black stork

darter

African fish eagle

bee eater

squacco heron

 This is the limit of these high resolution photos that I can fit on this website. There were many more birds seen, but will have to post them another time. Let me know by email, or in comments if you would like to see more.