JOSHUA SCHUSTER
Bulletin Staff
Traditional shtetls -- with Yiddish-speaking residents, backyard wells and old-fashioned lifestyles -- are still scattered across Ukraine, a Jewish welfare worker said during a visit to the Bay Area last month.
But at least one key community member -- the matchmaker -- is out of a job, according to Charles Hoffman, Central Russian area director for the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee.
The shadchan has no more clients.
"There are few children and in another 20 years, it's unlikely there will be any community. The shtetls existed for 400 years and this is the last generation," Hoffman said.
Here for a briefing at the Jewish Federation of the Greater East Bay in Oakland, Hoffman also relayed good news: "Everyone thought shtetl life was destroyed in the Holocaust. But when we 'discovered' [the shtetls] about four years ago, [the inhabitants] thought it kind of funny since to themselves they weren't lost."
Hundreds of thousands of Jews still dwell Old World-style in what locals consider Jewish towns, said Hoffman, who is writing a book on the vanishing villages.
After persecution before and during World War II, many Jews returned to the countryside where they continue to lead openly Jewish lives, he said. Even some of the local non-Jews unwittingly jumble Yiddish expressions into daily speech.
Before an era of Jewish life is ultimately lost, the JDC has been sweeping across the Ural Mountains to locate nearly every Jew and provide needed aid, Hoffman said.
Some need food, some coal. Some just need to know a caring Jewish community still exists in the world.
"We encountered some elderly people who were so excited to meet American Jews and wanted to touch us," he said. "They had only seen American Jews on TV."
No shtetls remain in Russia, he said. About 1 million Jews dot the vast steppes, with pockets of 5,000 to 10,000 living in various cities.
The ruble's crash in August, combined with a typical icy winter, put many elderly people perilously on the edge of starvation. The inhospitable climate worsened with anti-Semitic threats from prominent ultra-nationalists and Communists, he said. As a result, the last few months have been especially harsh for Russian Jews.
The recent spates of anti-Semitism leave Hoffman with little optimism. Russian Jews "will go through a lot more before they see it diminish," he said.
As for the collapsed economy, elderly Russians have been particularly hard hit, he said. In the past several months, the elderly saw their government pensions dwindle from $50 per month to $15. Firms that employed the elderly for odd jobs quickly cut extra staffing. Then prices for staples began to rise.
Most Russians outlast the cold by stockpiling food in underground freezers. Even city dwellers rent rural plots of land, where they grow cabbage, potatoes, onions and carrots for harvest during the summer.
"In a Western country, you expect to survive on a salary," said Hoffman. "But in Russia, many families can't get by unless they grow their own food."
However, "If you are elderly and don't have anyone to bring you food, you are in trouble."
The JDC decided it's better to help the elderly where they are living rather than uproot them to Israel or the United States, Hoffman said.
Jewish community welfare centers, funded primarily by a core of wealthy Russian Jewish businessmen in the major cities, found 4,000 new elderly clients on their doorsteps this year, he noted. The JDC disperses monthly food packets and provides meals for nearly 1,000 people.
At least one good thing has come from the difficult times, though.
"Since the crises, families have become closer to the Jewish community. More come to Sunday school and people want to become more Jewish. "