THE RISE AND FALL OF THE FIRST CHEIDER IN SAMARKAND

This chapter goes back to the early period in Samarkand. Of course, there was no yeshiva yet, but they tried to start a “yeshiva’le” for children. * The legendary Chassid and mashpia, R’ Eliyahu Chaim Roitblatt serves devotedly as a melamed during the days of starvation. * Heishke’s friend, Yoske Reitzes, gives some of his bread to the melamed’s only son, Shmerel.

TEACHER OF GENERATIONS OF CHILDREN

Samarkand was a city of refuge for most of the Lubavitcher refugees in Russia during World War II. In the winter of 1941, there were already a large number of Lubavitcher families from Moscow, Leningrad, Charkov and other cities. As such, there were a number of religious children of those who had learned in Tomchei T’mimim between the ages of 12-14. Some Chassidim decided that they had to do something so that these children would be taught Gemara daily by a G-d fearing and effectual melamed.

There was no better or more Chassidic melamed than the one that was chosen (nor could there be). He was the renowned Chassid and most outstanding teacher of young children in Soviet Russia, R’ Eliyahu Chaim Roitblatt z”l. Most of the young Lubavitcher boys of that generation (and later generations) were his students. He was an incomparably great yerei Shamayim and a deeply devout and devoted Chassid. I have already mentioned him in earlier chapters but it is worthwhile writing about this Chassidishe mashpia a bit more at length.

The organizers of the yeshiva (I remember the name of one of the activists involved: R’ Yosef Goldberg) decided on a paltry salary for R’ Eliyahu Chaim, but within a short time they could not manage to pay one cent of even this meager sum since most of the parent body, who were refugees, were destitute. They were not able to find work in Samarkand for their sustenance and very few of them brought money with them. They did not even have the small amount they needed to pay for the pseudo “apartments” they lived in.

STORIES TO STILL THE HUNGER

As was typical of those days, we learned in the melamed’s house. In a corner was a rickety Uzbeki cradle where his son Shmerel lay. He often lay there and cried to express how, nebach, hungry he was. Near the wall that supported the ceiling lay his wife, most of the time, on something that was supposed to be a bed. She moaned from time to time.

I don’t remember how long we learned with R’ Eliyahu Chaim. Nor do I remember how many talmidim we were at the height of enrollment. I think we were about twelve, certainly not more than that.

Those tzaros, diseases, and starvation which slowly stole away R’ Eliyahu Chaim’s salary, also took his students, and rather quickly too. I remember that the last two talmidim were Yosef Reitzes (Yoske) and me. Yoske was my friend, not so much in learning (oy, my learning at that time) but after we learned. He was my close friend at a time when this was very necessary.

I remember that we would stroll about the streets and alleyways of the old city of Samarkand and I would tell him a long story in installments. Till today, I don’t understand from where I got those imaginative episodes about the adventures of (don’t laugh) someone by the name of Ilai, which greatly interested my friend Yoske. I too would get caught up in the imaginary events that distracted me a little from the tortuous hunger.

Speaking of my dear friend Yoske, I cannot refrain from telling you about some glowing moments during those dark days; a ray of light that shone forth from my friend Yoske. I know he is not very pleased (or not pleased at all) by my talking about him, but I will do so anyway.

HE GAVE OF HIS BREAD TO THE POOR

In those days, most of the Lubavitcher Chassidim starved, some more and some less. Our rebbi, R’ Eliyahu Chaim, was, nebach, in a state of constant starvation, and he had a sick wife and a hungry little boy too. I don’t know whether any of the young Lubavitchers helped this dear Jew; I believe there was surely one such person or maybe more. What I do know is, for I saw this myself, my friend Yoske from time to time would go to R’ Eliyahu Chaim, take out a piece of bread or lepyashka (flat Uzbeki bread) from under his tattered clothing, and wordlessly hand it to R’ Eliyahu Chaim. It usually was a respectable enough piece that people at that time would “swallow whole” with their eyes if they could.

It is hard for me to forget the expression on R’ Eliyahu Chaim’s face when he took the piece of bread. He had a sort of lopsided smile which was unusual, and he mumbled something. One time, I caught the words, “a meal that is insufficient for its owner,” but Yoske protested, “No, no! It’s good, it’s good!” And R’ Eliyahu Chaim took the bread. One time, I remember, he immediately brought the bread to his son.

I was amazed at the time, since Yoske himself was far from being sated. It is possible that his talented sisters managed to get a little more bread than other families. I am certain that Yoske had to take the bread quietly, secretively. Today, boruch Hashem, it is hard to fathom the greatness of this enormous act of chesed in that time of deprivation.

A LUBAVITCHER BOY ASKS FOR A TIKKUN

Speaking of Yosef Reitzes, it is hard not to mention the yiras Shamayim of this real Lubavitcher Chassidishe bachur of 15-16.

One time, my friend Yoske came to me very upset. What happened? He said in an agitated voice that he had stumbled in a matter involving meat and milk. In other words, several hours after eating meat, he ate dairy, and when he realized this he became ois mentch (inconsolable). He tried all possible methods to get himself to vomit what he ate, but they did not help and he consulted with us about how to get the dairy out of his body.

We could not help him. Some time later, I met him in a better mood. He told me that he had finally succeeded in his efforts. He shoved certain things in his mouth, which cannot be mentioned at the table, until he vomited what was apparently not only the dairy but also the meat. I don’t want to get into what he did in order to uproot the “meat and milk” until he was successful.

Yoske was pleased by the happy ending, but still felt regret. So he then went to our mashpia and mashgiach, R’ Zalman Hoditcher (Levitin) and asked for a tikkun (rectification).

The Chassidishe mashpia did not treat this as minor and said that for something like this it would be good to learn by heart a number of chapters of Tanya. Not just I, but my friends too, envied him for his genuine yiras Shamayim.

I stopped going to learn with R’ Eliyahu Chaim when I became sick with typhus. As I recall, Yoske remained the last talmid at that time. In those days, I was also impressed by R’ Eliyahu Chaim’s greatness, how even when starving and without being paid he continued to sit and learn with the last talmid who went to him. That is how the first Talmud Torah of the Lubavitcher Chassidim in Samarkand came to an end.