In close cooperation with the Central Welfare Board of Jews in Germany (ZWST), Christians alongside Israel Holocaust survivors at the meeting places around which their social lives revolve. These are always precious hours spent with deeply wounded people.
By Anemone Rüger
Host Tanja welcomed the survivors and the "special guests" to the Berlin meeting place for Holocaust survivors, pointing to the One who gives hope. "These are difficult times, so many wars wherever we look. We worry about our relatives in Israel. But we always turn to God. We have 150 psalms we can pray. As it says in Psalm 126: 'I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from?' That's how our ancestors sang it when they climbed the steps to the Temple in Jerusalem. And in the same way, we too want to lift our gaze to God in these difficult times, for from Him comes our help."
And so we do it, with the help of music videos from Israel. We go from table to table, exchange a few words here and there, hug, shake hands, offer comfort. Then there are flowers. Magnificent, lavishly arranged bouquets, accompanied by greetings from the many CSI supporters behind them. They don't fail to have an effect. "We've never had anything like this before!" we hear from many sides.
There was a special surprise for the men. We had the Magdeburg Cathedral Emperor bottle the "flowers" or herbs for the gentlemen in liqueur bottles, complemented by chocolate-filled Magdeburg hemispheres. Every single happy face of the recipients made the trip with all those suitcases and bags worthwhile!
"Only for a few weeks"
Galina and Igor sit perfectly still. They don't sing along and barely move even during the animated seated dances. A particular heaviness seems to weigh on them. German doesn't get us very far here. When we offer Russian, Galina's face brightens, and we learn why they are so silent.
“We come from Zaporizhzhia,” Galina explains. “No, we haven’t been here that long. But much longer than we wanted. When the war started in February 2022, we came here with our daughter to bring her children to safety.”
Igor and Galina, who have been married for more than 60 years, quickly packed a few things – for a few weeks. "Who would have imagined that we'd still be here four years later!" said Galina. "That's why we didn't learn German right away. We thought it would all be over quickly. The children have settled in well now, and they're getting along well with the language. But for us, it's very, very difficult. Not being able to speak the language is a huge handicap. At least we can communicate here at the meeting place and feel a little bit at home."
The apartment in Zaporizhzhia is still there, and the neighbors stop by occasionally. But a return is out of the question for the foreseeable future – the front line is too close, the risk of a meltdown at the nearby nuclear power plant too great. It is the second war the two of them have survived.
Childhood in the ghetto
“Once, volunteers from Germany came to Zaporizhzhia and invited us to a sanatorium in Khmelnyk, near Vinnytsia, for a period of rest,” Igor begins to recount. The invitees were Holocaust survivors.
Igor was born in 1940 in Balta, near Odessa. Balta—that place has a terrible reputation. One of the worst camps, as I know from the survivors' accounts. "I was there in the ghetto for three and a half years," Igor recounts. "Our whole family was there, except for Dad, who was with the partisans. So, Mom was there with me—I was just a baby—her sister with my cousin, Grandpa and Grandma. Mom's name was Eugenia, Dad's name was David. Grandma's name was Gita. I don't remember Grandpa's name. He was shot right away." Then came the moment that could have meant the end for everyone.
Nighttime escape
“One day they herded us all into a barn: Mom and me, my aunt and my cousin, and many others from the camp. My aunt was a fighter. She found some people who had dug a hole under the barn wall during the night. We escaped through that hole. Some fled, some stayed behind—they didn't know what awaited them.” The next day, the occupiers set fire to the barn. Everyone who remained perished.
Shortly before the end of the war, the partisan unit, in which Igor's father David also fought, was betrayed by locals. "They were all shot in Balta and put in a mass grave, 26 people," Igor recounts. "The next day, the women were notified that they could collect the bodies to bury them. That's how my mother found my father. Today there is a memorial there."
First fleeing from the Germans, then fleeing to Germany
Soon after, the war ended. But Eugenia and her young son no longer had a home. "One of the first bombs to fall hit our house," Igor recounts. "We somehow managed to survive—first in a refugee camp, then with acquaintances." Igor met his Ukrainian wife while studying in Odessa. "And then she whisked me away to her hometown of Zaporizhzhia," Igor adds with a wink.
“We are grateful for all the help we receive here in Germany; we are not complaining,” Galina says in conclusion. “We pray that the war will end soon.” Then the two of them want to take photos with us. Good memories mean so much when you have lost everything more than once in your life. Their faces fit just inside the selfie frame, close together.
The card in Igor's CSI surprise bag reminds him, after everything he has been through: "You will be a crown of beauty in the hand of your God." (Isaiah 62:3)
Here you can read the story of Holocaust survivor Rita: Floral greetings: Encounters with Holocaust survivors in Berlin
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