Traveling to Kiev with JDC

Kiev is a vast city of nearly 3 million. JDC's work feeds impoverished Holocaust survivors and other elderly, and helps families in need. It is also about building a caring community, and we felt an integral part of one during our visit.

by Rebecca Neuwirth, Director, JDC Ambassadors

Before leaving for Kiev, someone told me that the city was beautiful, all orthodox churches and Dostoyevsky. And in JDC reports, I read about the immense poverty and dire living conditions of families with troubled children and the elderly.

Not surprisingly, on the first day of our staff mission in Kiev, it seems all of this is true. A city of contradictions, a vast city, vital, sad, moving, with a future that is very uncertain.

Aiding Bulgaria's "New Poor" Families

With no money to replace the decayed wallpaper in

their poorly insolated three-room apartment, Harry

and Yanna allowed the children to simply draw on

the walls to bring cheer to their home.  (JDC Website)

When Isak, 6, Stephany, 11, and Maria, 13, received their first JDC package of winter clothing they embraced the social worker and exclaimed, "These are our first new jeans! We've never had jeans that were our size before."

Their parents, Harry and Yana, choked back tears, unsure how to react to their children's overwhelming joy at receiving a simple article of clothing—something which they were no longer able to materially provide themselves.

A year ago, the economic crisis in Bulgaria took a direct hit on this family. Yana was laid off from her job as an optician. With three children and a blind and bed-ridden elderly mother to care for, she was taking sick leave more often than the other employees. She looked for a job for a year, but given Bulgaria's dire economic situation, she had no success.

Left to survive on Harry's monthly salary of just over $500, the family fell deep into poverty. Their unpaid bills, rising heating costs, and overdue taxes added up to over $8000 in debt. They desperately needed help.

Jewish Caring and Warmth Carry Family through Moldova’s Harsh Winter

For families like Tatiana’s, who barely make ends 

meet on a monthly income of $70 in the good 

months, JDC is a lifeline.

January brings the heaviest snow in Moldova, so Tatiana, 11, is spending most of her days huddled around the gas stove with her parents, two younger sisters, 9 and 6, and a teenage cousin who lives with them.

The family’s two-room apartment is in an old Soviet-style building that has no electricity or running water, no kitchen or bathroom, and no heat. Thankfully, the local JDC Hesed (welfare center) has supplied coal to tie them over for the long, icy season, and sealed their drafty windows to keep in the heat as long as possible.

Community’s Caring Warms Winter Chill for FSU Elderly



Perel relies on Hesed year-round
for food and other support.
Photo: JDC Website

 Perel Geller dreads the Ukrainian winter, when plunging temperatures and long months of snowfall compound her daily hardship. At the age of 80, she has gotten used to living alone in a tiny shack without utilities; but it is getting harder to endure the below-freezing gusts on her already demoralizing walks to a shared outhouse. Her only bit of relief is the winter assistance she receives from JDC’s Hesed network.

Distributed once a year in advance of the season, JDC’s winter relief packages—warm blankets, clothing, and heating fuel—made the harsh winter months bearable for more than 27,000 impoverished Jews across the former Soviet Union last year; people like Perel whose well-being depends on services from JDC’s Hesed social welfare centers. A beneficiary of Hesed Shlomo in Zhitomir since 1997, today Perel also receives a food card with which to purchase groceries, medicines and medical consultations, as well as personal hygiene and laundry service, and she participates in local JDC-supported Day Center activities with other Jewish elderly. These vital acts of loving kindess (hesed) let Perel know she is not alone, especially after so many years of suffering.

Born in July 1930, Perel endured repeated evacuations and much privation during World War II. Her father, a laborer, joined the Soviet Army when the war began, while Perel, her mother, and her two siblings fled first to Stalingrad, then to the Volga region, and finally to Kyrgizia. There, 11-year-old Perel had to work with her mother on a collective farm to help support her family. Forced to share a tiny apartment lacking heat and utilities with other families, the Gellers were constantly sick. But despite physical and emotional hardship as well as the family’s repeated displacement during the war, Perel managed to save her mother’s Hebrew prayerbooks—relics she treasures to this day.

When the Gellers returned to Zhitomir following its liberation in 1944 (where they were soon joined by Perel’s father) their home had been given to others and their family was reduced to living in and were a windowless, one-room apartment. The small stove they installed for cooking and a bit of heat caused them endless, terrible headaches.

Overcoming tremendous obstacles, Perel completed medical school and worked for years as an obstetrician. But her siblings soon moved from Zhitomir, leaving her to care for their increasingly infirm parents. Since their death, Perel has been suffering from a variety of medical conditions all alone—save for Hesed.

“Thanks to them I can live in dignity, feeling I am part of a caring community that has not forgotten me.”

JDC's Work Comes To A Close In Algeria

From Steve Schwager, CEO:

According to some scholars, Jewish life in Algeria probably dates back nearly 2,600 years, to the time of the destruction of the First Temple in Jerusalem in 586 B.C.E. So Penny and I feel that it is of special importance to note that this past July, the last Jew in Algeria assisted by JDC, Mrs. Esther Azoulay, passed away.

Her passing brings JDC's direct program involvement in that troubled country to a close after a period of 60 years. And how did that work begin?

JDC’s connection started with its support for the Refugee Welfare Committee, which was established in Algeria in 1943 in order to bring assistance to European Jews who found asylum there during WWII. Later, when the State of Israel came into being, JDC also supported the aliyah of Jews from Algeria. However, in 1953, the Federation of Jewish Communities of Algeria felt that JDC should expand its programs for the Jews of Algeria in both the social and cultural arenas, and a JDC office was finally opened in Algiers in 1957.

JDC provided assistance in many areas: home visits to the needy, support for the development of educational institutions, medical care, cash assistance, and food packages, including matzot for Pesach. By 1959, 4,000 Jews were benefiting from JDC’s aid. In addition, JDC helped strengthen Jewish life in Algeria by supporting the construction of a rabbinical school and Jewish summer camps.

Even prior to 1962, when Algeria achieved its independence, Jews in Algeria had been facing hostility from certain segments of both the local French and Arab population. And once the French departed, Algerian rule was marked by militant Arab nationalism, growing Islamization, and virulent anti-Zionism. By the end of 1963, the 120,000-member community had dwindled to some 3,000-4,000 Jews.

In 1964, Mr. Choucroun, President of the Jewish community of Saïda, sent the following letter to Dr. Franco Levi, the JDC representative in Algeria:

At the time when I am preparing to leave Algeria, I would like to say once again how much I am grateful to the organization you represent and for your good deeds. You saved people in distress … thanks to your actions, children and elderly smiled at life. There do not remain any more poor people in Saïda.

The story of the final desecration/destruction of the last remaining synagogue in Algiers in 1988 makes stomach-churning reading even today. The damage done was so extensive that the synagogue, now in ruins, had to be permanently closed. By the end of the eighties, only 94 Jews remained in the country.

In the mid-1990’s the assassination of two Jews in Algiers marked the end of an era.

JDC remained a pillar of strength, providing assistance to those who needed help even as the community continued to shrink.

Since 1985, Line Meller, then living in Algiers, served as JDC’s liaison with the remaining Jews of Algeria.On our behalf she helped to assure the welfare of a small number of aged and impoverished Jews, who continued to receive cash assistance from JDC until they passed away.

Although JDC could not redeem these unfortunate Jews from their suffering since they did not want to emigrate, the work that JDC did kept them alive. JDC enabled Line Meller to light a candle in a black hole of darkness.

In 2010, Mr. Messaoud Chetrit, 82-years-old and the last Jewish man still living in Oran, passed away. A delegation of Jews came from France to ensure that he was buried according to the traditional Jewish ritual in the very cemetery of Oran where he had been the final caretaker.

And that brings us to the last Jew in Algeria assisted by JDC, Mrs. Azoulay, who had a very difficult life. In 1992, her case came to the attention of JDC, which from that point on provided her with regular cash assistance. Over a period of two decades, this JDC aid enabled Mrs. Azoulay to pay for all the medical care she needed for her multiple ailments. But perhaps what she treasured most about this JDC connection was the reassurance it gave her that she had not been forgotten by her people.

Among her last words to JDC was this postcard, sent to Yechiel Bar-Chaim in JDC’s Paris office:

January 10, 2011

Dear Mr. Bar-Chaim,

I received the magazines and the greetings card that you sent me together with the wishes of all JDC Paris staff. I was very touched. I had tears in my eyes. Fortunately, there are people like you who have compassion for others.

I wish you and the JDC Paris staff good health, peace in the world and everything you wish.

I send you my love and thank you again.

Esther Azoulay

A Homecare Visit That Restores Dignity and Hope



For Irina, a 79-year-old widow living in poverty
in Melitopol, Ukraine, JDC-supported Hesed
services are a lifeline. “I have no one else to rely
on. I am so grateful to the people at Hesed for
their care and attention.”

 While just a teenager, Irina, now age 79, witnessed her family’s vibrant Jewish community in the Urals region of Russia decimated in World War II, their synagogue go up in flames, and the Jewish cemetery destroyed. Still, Irina persevered. Undeterred by the anti-Semitism and later hardships she faced during years of communism, she graduated from university and moved to the Far East to begin her 34-year career as a French teacher. The only thing she has to show for that now is a pension that puts her below the poverty line.

Living on less than $112 a month, Irina depends on JDC’s Hesed social welfare center in Melitopol, Ukraine, to provide food; medicines; heating fuel and blankets to protect her through the winter; and weekly home care visits from Yelena who cooks, cleans, and bathes Irina—basic tasks that would be impossible to accomplish alone.

For Irina, it is a good day when she doesn’t suffer a mild stroke. It’s a bad day when she lies shivering on her bed because her decomposed ancient firewood heater can’t protect her from the bitter Ukrainian winters. Every day is a struggle for survival—one she faces on her own since the deaths of her husband and son. Her loving marriage was cut abruptly short when her husband died in 1959 of radiation exposure from his service as a career medical officer in the Soviet Army. And Irina watched her only son—the joy of her life—succumb to leukemia before his 28th birthday.

Today Irina fights severe, deforming arthritis with every step she takes along the creaking floor of her home. She lives alone and isn’t able to venture outside its four walls—except when Yelena comes.

On a rare bright morning when Irina feels strong enough, she accompanies Yelena to the local supermarket where she can choose her own groceries and purchase them with dignity using a special food debit card provided by Hesed.

All that Irina has left in the world are childhood memories of celebrating Jewish holidays with her large family, and some tattered photos of her son. These have been her only source of comfort through ensuing decades of heartache. But today she has Yelena; today she has dignity.

* Vital relief and homecare services are reaching 165,000 of the most frail and vulnerable Jewish elderly across the former Soviet Union thanks to the invaluable support of the Jewish Federations of North America, the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany, the Maurice and Vivenne Wohl Charitable Foundation, World Jewish Relief (UK), and a generous new gift from Bonita Trust.

A Day in the Life of Zhanna

Spend a day with Zhanna, one of nearly 165,000 impoverished Jewish elderly in the former Soviet Union for whom JDC provides a lifeline and breaks the isolation.

Community Gives Hungry Brothers in Tashkent Aid and Hope

Andrey and Artom battle hunger daily, but they
“look forward to the holidays when the food package
we receive from the Jewish community for Rosh
Hashanah arrives. It’s the only time all year we
eat dates and cookies.”
Photo:  JDC Website

For many children, chewing gum is a common, sweet treat. For the Samaras boys, Andrey, 11, and Artyom, 9, it’s what fastens sheets of plastic to their window to protect them from Tashkent’s howling winter winds or 110 degree heatwave temperatures.

They live on the edge of town, at the end of a long dirt road where wild donkeys, geese, and mule carts drawn by elderly women dodge gaping potholes and large rocks. Andrey and Artyom share a two-room shack with their mother, Lyudmila, a recovering alcoholic. The boys’ stepfather occasionally stops by unannounced; when he’s in a good mood, he leaves a few hundred Uzbeks—less than 20 cents—for food.

The foundation of the Samaras’ mud and straw hut is eroding; the walls are crumbling and in complete decay. The makeshift roof is held on by rocks, bricks, and plastic. There is no electricity or running water.

“We’re too busy taking care of the daily chores and trying to stay alive to think about doing kid stuff,” says Artyom. “We never notice that we don’t have a television, a bathroom, an outhouse, a refrigerator, heat, or enough food in the cupboard.”

The only help these brothers have in the world comes from JDC’s partnership with the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews (IFCJ). The Samaras family relies on the supermarket food card from the IFCJ-JDC Partnership for Children in the Former Soviet Union to purchase groceries each month and is provided otherwise unaffordable basic necessities—sets of toiletries, sheets, school uniforms and supplies. The free medical consultations made possible by the Partnership are especially critical for Artyom, a 4th-grader who is battling failing eyesight, abdominal pains from a developmental defect, as well as an anxiety disorder.

Though the family’s most immediate challenge is surviving day to day, the IFCJ-JDC Partnership also ensures through JDC’s Jewish Family Service model of case management that the Samaras receive assistance that goes beyond the material and engages them in local Jewish activities. The boys’ haven 15 kilometers from home is the JDC supported Tashkent Jewish Community Center, where Andrey and Artyom visit for help with their homework, to celebrate Jewish holidays, and to participate with their mom in Jewish family retreats—a rare opportunity for them to learn and share Jewish experiences with other families.

Coming of Age: Hesed Helps Three Generations in Ukraine

Boris learns to play the recorder at Beitenu
social service center in Zhitomir, Ukraine.

Boris D. has not yet reached his bar mitzvah, but he has faced hardship that belies his age.

He and his mom Inna live in Zhitomir, Ukraine, in a 12 sq meter room in an overcrowded, rundown high-rise tenement building where they share their utilities with eight other families. Inna supports them on her nurse’s salary (only $160/month) from the city children’s hospital, where she often works extra long hours to bring home a little more money. When food prices soar and inflation doesn’t allow her to stretch her salary any further, Inna turns to JDC’s local Hesed social welfare center to get Boris clothing, shoes, and medications. He is one of more than 30,000 children who receive this and other critical support through the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews (IFCJ)-JDC Partnership for Children in the Former Soviet Union.

Boris has been coming to the Hesed since he was a baby when his mother joined the center's family club. His mom later enrolled him in the JDC-supported Beitenu program which, in addition to supplementing his food, medical, and clothing, helped care for his and his mom's emotional needs as they struggled to make a life for themselves on minimal income. Boris attended after-school activities where he received professional counseling and help with his studies, and participated in Jewish educational activities. Though he doesn’t connect to any of his neighbors or family members, Boris breaks out of his shell at Beitenu. “I love my computer class. I find refuge there,” he says.

Growing up in the reviving Jewish community in Zhitomir, Boris feels he has a bigger family to care for him. This feeling is reinforced by his grandmother, Beshiva, who has taught him that he is part of the Jewish people.

Beshiva is the family matriarch and attends the elderly day care center program at the same Hesed. Struggling to survive on a meager pension of barely $100 per month, Beshiva turns to the Hesed to avoid having to make the tough choice between buying food and medicine. Not only can she get medication and special winter relief here, she also regularly receives a JDC food card that she can use to purchase groceries at her local supermarket.

Beshiva teaches Boris about Jewish traditions and the importance of doing mitzvot (good deeds) and performing acts of Hesed (acts of loving kindness), which are all reinforced by his experiences at the Jewish community hub where he has found a second home. There Boris has even begun to perform in Jewish plays and show signs of leadership and becoming a young man.

“Thanks to Hesed, we know we will survive!” says Boris's mom. She is hopeful that despite the family's ongoing challenges, her son has the support and guidance to truly become a bar mitzvah.

Helping the Neediest Jews Brave Harsh Winter

Photo: JDC Website

In Baku, Azerbaijan, the Mardakhayev children—ranging in age from 3 to 16—live with their parents in a tiny apartment with exposed brick walls, on the verge of collapse. Neither parent has been able to find steady work in recent years. Their home has no beds, just thin mattresses, and the youngest sleeps in a hammock made from a blanket hanging from closet doors.

Since their utilities were cut off long ago, the family has been using their furniture as kindling to build fires each winter to warm their home. Through the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews (IFCJ)/JDC Partnership for Children in the Former Soviet Union (FSU), they are now getting support for winter heating and clothing. The parents receive food cards for their children, and the Partnership has provided the family a hot plate for cooking.


Two of the Mardakhayev boys show their
makeshift sleeping arrangements
Photo: JDC Website



In an equally run-down Baku neighborhood, 72-year-old Gyavar Aliyev shares her tiny apartment with her son and two teenage grandchildren. Gyavar is slowly losing her sight—and her home has no running water, so she must use an outhouse and the well located in the rat-infested courtyard that she shares with three neighbors.

Gyavar’s apartment has holes in the floor and becomes icy cold in the winter. JDC’s Hesed welfare center network supplies Gyavar with heating fuel and blankets to combat the fierce chill. She also receives a food card that enables her to purchase groceries, and is provided with medicines and basic household goods.

For these poorest of Jewish children, families, and elderly in the former Soviet Union, JDC assistance mitigates suffering and helps them survive the harsh winter season with dignity.

'The Last Shtetl Jews of Belarus'

The Jewish Daily Forward currently features a story by Judith Matloff that focuses on the hardships many elderly Jews face that live in small towns and villages throughout the Former Soviet Union.  Ms. Matloff traveled throughout Belarus and shares the stories of five people who are the only or one of a few Jews still living in their town and rely on JDC for assistance. 


Rina, age 85
Photo from The Jewish Daily Forward


Read the entire article at The Last Shtetl Jews of Belarus.

Klara Kogan z"l

From Steve Schwager, CEO

Over the years, I have made many home visits to poor elderly Jews living in the former Soviet Union (FSU). Almost every visit involved trudging up flights of stairs to visit elderly “shut-ins.” I also have visited dozens and dozens of Federations, determined to bring the faces and needs of those elderly Jews home to the Jews of North America. And while my audiences will always hear the harsh statistics—that today we serve some 160,000 poor elderly Jews living in 2,900 cities in the FSU, and tens of thousands more need our help—what truly touches each of us is the story of one person. As many of you know, for me, that person has always been Klara Kogan. But for the grace of God, Klara could have been my mother or grandmother—so visiting her or just thinking about her moves me to tears. Indulge me to share her story one last time...

Klara Kogan was born on July 24, 1905 in Bendery, Bessarabia, then part of Russia (today Moldova). Klara never completed elementary school; in 1919, her entire family moved to Kishinev, where at age 14 she began working at a carton-making workshop. In 1925, the family moved again, this time to Bucharest, where Klara was employed in a textile factory. She married in 1929 and gave birth to her only son three years later. In 1940, when Bessarabia was annexed by the Soviet Union, Klara and her family moved back to Kishinev, where she started working as a cashier in a store.

During World War II, Klara was evacuated with her husband and son to Kazakhstan, near an oilfield. Shortly thereafter, her husband joined the Soviet army and left for the front lines; Klara worked as a cashier and raised her son. The remainder of Klara’s family was killed in the Holocaust: Nazis shot her mother, her older sister was taken to Germany, and her younger sister was sent to dig trenches and never returned. In 1948, her husband returned from the army and the family moved back to a one-room apartment in Kishinev, where Klara continued working as a shop cashier until she retired in 1960.

In 1981, when Klara was 76 years old, she lost her husband; her beloved son died four years later, leaving Klara without a living relative anywhere in the world.

The only people who cared for Klara were North American Jews, thousands of miles away. They reached her through JDC’s Hesed center network.

Thrust into poverty following the economic collapse in the former Soviet Union, Klara became a Hesed client in 1995. When I met her for the first time in early 2002, she was receiving a monthly pension of $16—the cost of her monthly utilities. In truth, Klara was kept alive by Hesed services and its network of volunteers who regularly visited her and provided her with food, medicines, and homecare as well as a hearing aid and rehabilitation equipment.

Compounding Klara’s difficulties was the fact that she lived on the top floor of a five-story walkup building. When I first met her, she had not been out of her apartment for several years. She actually could walk down the stairs, but could not get back up. On my first visit to Klara’s home, I expected to find a depressed woman; she blew me away by being the exact opposite! Klara impressed me with her crystal clear memory, quick wit, and analytical abilities. I grew to understand that she also had a very special gift for getting along with anyone, no matter what their age, social status, or educational background.

During that first encounter, Klara told me how grateful she was for all of the help she received from Hesed. She did, however, share one complaint: she was not happy with her homecare worker who came one hour per day, five days a week, to help her. The problem, she said, was that the homecare worker wanted to clean her apartment each day. I asked Klara what was wrong with that and she warmly responded that she would prefer to use the hour for conversation because she was otherwise alone. That was Klara: grace and good humor.

Klara never let a guest—including me—leave without her first sharing a joke. The one she often told me was: “A grandfather was walking on a beach with his grandson. All of a sudden a wave swept the child away. ‘Oh Lord!’ the grandfather screamed. ‘All my life I was a good man, followed all the laws, and helped others. How do I deserve such a cruel punishment? The boy’s mother will die of grief, his father will commit suicide—please do not let this happen!’ The wave grumbled and threw the boy back to the beach. The grandfather held the boy, looked up at the Heavens and at the wave, and complained: ‘But he also had a hat on!’”

I am sad to report that Klara has passed away at the age of 103; I am comforted that she has joined her husband and son, and that JDC was able to help her in her time of need. May Klara’s memory be for a blessing.

Statistics and charts and projections are important to our programs; but Irv and I know that it is also our responsibility to remember that each needy elderly Jew has a unique and often difficult story to tell. Our helping and remembering them is a reflection of our humanity. How well we all know that JDC is often the only lifeline for these elderly Jews and, with your help, we will continue to care for them as long as they live.

JDC CONTINUES MONITORING SAFETY AND PROVIDING CARE TO KYRGYZSTAN JEWS AS CRISIS ESCALATES

NEW YORK, NY, June 15, 2010 – As ethnic violence in southern Kyrgyzstan continues to worsen, the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), the world’s largest Jewish humanitarian organization, has expanded its services – including providing extra food and medicine – for its Jewish community clients in that region and continues its daily monitoring of their safety. The current unrest has moved to the south of the country, which is home to fewer than 70 Jews in four cities, and is far from the nation’s capital, Bishkek. To date, there have been no reported injuries to the Jewish community.

“Since the beginning of this crisis in April, JDC has been vigilant in its daily contact and care for Jewish community members caught up in the tragic events in Kyrgyzstan,” said JDC CEO Steven Schwager. “As in past crises, JDC, working on the ground with the local Jewish community, will help ensure safety, provide critical services, and reach Jews in danger or need wherever they may be.”

Throughout the crisis, JDC has ensured that its services to the Jewish community, including vital, life-saving programs, continued uninterrupted. Homebound elderly clients of its Meals on Wheels program received deliveries of food – their only source of nourishment – and as public transport was at a standstill for periods of time, homecare workers slept at the homes of bedridden clients whose lives would be jeopardized without these services.

JDC’s long-term support for the Jewish community in Kyrgyzstan, an estimated 1,300 people, includes the local Hesed welfare center in Bishkek, which provides food, medicine and home care to the community. Additionally, JDC supports a Jewish library, a program for family education, as well as other aid and Jewish renewal programs for elderly and children at risk.

Most of Kyrgyzstan’s Jews are concentrated in Bishkek, but Jews can also be found in 10 other locations throughout the country.

For more about JDC programs in Kyrgyzstan, please visit the JDC website.  Also check out No Passport Required for more information.

The Hesed: Filling a Social and Economic Gap in the FSU

Briefing from Steve Schwager, CEO

The Hesed centers throughout the former Soviet Union (FSU) have become a critical lifeline for the poorest Jews on earth. The diminishing purchasing power of the U.S. dollar means that each year presents a greater struggle to find adequate resources to meet their most fundamental needs. In spite of major efforts, we are not succeeding; the Hasadim have been removing needy elderly from the caseload in order to service those who are even needier. Asher Ostrin, JDC’s FSU Regional Director, wrote a brief report on the history of the Hesed movement and where we stand today. I share an edited version with you below.

Since the concept of a JDC Hesed began 16 years ago, the word “Hesed” has become part of the JDC lexicon. In the late ’90s, it actually appears in some Russian dictionaries, often without reference to its roots in the Jewish tradition. The word literally means goodness, or mercy. The goal was to ease the suffering and perhaps add quality to the remaining years of elderly FSU Jews—individuals who lived through wars, political systems that repressed them, societies that singled them out for discrimination, and who have been reduced to penury in their twilight years. In actuality, the Hasadim extended the lives of those they served.

What follows is the concept underpinning JDC's efforts, from a piece written by Searle Brajtman, Director of FSU Special Projects, who works from Jerusalem:

“JDC returned to the FSU in the early nineties—a very difficult time for the local population. The economy was going through enormous transitions from a Communist to a quasi Capitalist structure: lifetime savings became worthless, pensions were seriously eroded, medical infrastructure deteriorated enormously, and food was scarce and sometimes unaffordable for the elderly. There was much poverty, with needs far in excess of the resources available to JDC. We turned to the USDA for a multi-million dollar non-sectarian grant to distribute food in Moscow and St. Petersburg—our initial major welfare program, implemented in 1991-1992. But it was a stop-gap measure; we realized that we would need to put in place community infrastructures which, given the then-prevailing levels of political instability and uncertainty, would be able to take care of their needy on a local basis should JDC be expelled. Along with the infrastructure we needed to line up the funding on an ongoing basis. Our initial welfare budgets in the early ’90s were so small that when I convinced Mazon in LA to provide $30,000 for FSU food packages in 1993, it was considered significant funding!

Out of the Numbers, the Individual Stories

On their blog, Baltimore Israel and Overseas, The Associated: Jewish Community Federation of Baltimore shares the stories of two families who are JDC clients living in the Former Soviet Union.

It is because of the support of our Federation partners that JDC is able to make a difference in the lives of families like those profiled in this post. 

Check it out at Out of the Numbers, the Individual Stories.

Comparisons

From Asher Ostrin, Executive Director, FSU Programs

M. and A. are two people I know. Both are Jews. M. was born in 1927 in New York. A. was born in 1928 in Kazan, Russia. Today, M lives in New Jersey. A. still lives in the apartment in the central Russian city in which he spent all of his adult years. Both are war veterans. M. served in the American Army in Europe and was in tank intelligence. A. was in the Red Army, first in the Far East, and then in Stalingrad, after the decisive battle there. Both M. and A. were professionals in the field of education. They both have families- their children are grown and have children of their own. Both are still married, in each case over 50 years. Both have advanced cases of dementia.

M. now lives in a nursing home in New Jersey- in a special ward for dementia patients. The ward has a staff equal in size to the number of patients. The staff feed M., and bathe him. In fact, they take care of all of his basic needs. His wife is in another wing of the same institution. She has become physically frail, but she is basically self sufficient. They lived together in the same house until about a year ago. An aide came in every day to help with M, but eventually the challenge was overwhelming. It was no longer safe to keep him at home. And so M's family searched for an appropriate facility in which both he, and she could live, with their respective needs addressed. In the end, they had a choice of facilities from which to choose. Today, he has no single, "primary" caregiver. There is a staff to attend to his needs.

A. is not so fortunate. There is no institutional option in Russia for him. His family is not faced with the painful choice of when to move him out of his familiar surroundings into a facility that is appropriate for him at this stage in the disease's progression. They simply have no choice. He is a Hesed client. In the category of non Nazi victims, he is entitled to a minimum level of care. One of the Hesed's homecare workers visits him- six hours a week. Sometimes that means an hour a day. At other times, for example when he has to be taken to a doctor, half of the week's budgeted time can be used for that trip, and is reduced from the total. The door of the apartment in which he lives is always bolted, so that he cannot leave unescorted. If his wife needs to go out- to the doctor, shopping, and the like, it requires major planning so that A is not endangered by being alone. His wife, age 79 and with daunting physical challenges herself, is the major caregiver. Such as it is.

For FSU Elderly, Times as Difficult as Ever

Faina relies on services provided through the local JDC-supported Hesed welfare center to supplement her nutrition, medical care, and other critical needs. Without this help, she would be forced to make unthinkable choices.

Born the youngest of four children in 1937 in Minsk, Belarus, Faina has suffered many tragedies: her brother was killed and her father injured in World War II; Faina’s mother was evacuated to the East with her three children, first to the Volga region and from there to Kazakhstan. During this difficult time, they had very little income to live on. Her sister managed to find a job—but was paid with soap, not money. The family was often on the brink of starvation.

Faina married at age 26 and gave birth to a son. She worked in sales while her husband painted houses for a living. Faina’s son died in a drowning accident in 1996 and her husband passed away several years later.

Today Faina lives alone in one 17-square-meter room in Minsk on a monthly pension of $117. She has a long list of health challenges, including hypertension, heart disease, gastric ulcer, and gall bladder disease. Like many of her contemporaries who receive help from Hesed, Faina has endured suffering in her 73 years that is almost unimaginable. She’s been victimized by war, illness, and poverty.

Despite what she has overcome, Faina is living some of the hardest times of her life today. She can’t get by on her monthly budget, which exists without any social safety net: rent $12, electricity $6, phone $1, medicines $22, personal hygiene $6. She can’t afford transportation (she rarely leaves her flat) or clothing (she never purchases new garments). A precipitous rise in prices due to inflation or economic downturn, an unexpected need for an additional medicine, or any other unplanned expense could spell disaster. From the remaining $70 in her pension, Faina owes $10.50/month for a washing machine she purchased (her first washing machine ever), leaving $59.50 for a month’s worth of food, which falls more than $15 short of costs for the basic standard diet for an elderly person (as determined by the Hesed in Minsk together with three local geriatric dieticians).

To make up for the shortfall, Faina simply buys less of everything, including fish and flour, bread and butter, chicken, cheese, and potatoes. She uses buckwheat (kasha) as a replacement for healthier options which she can’t afford. Faina even skips meals. And she relies on JDC to save her from total deprivation.

A Story of Survival and Perseverance

From Asher Ostrin, Executive Director of FSU Programs

In this briefing, Asher shares a story from Stanley Abramovitch, Director of former Soviet Republics of Asia, based on a recent trip to Belarus:

"Two Jews survived the Grodno ghetto in the Second World War. One of them left a few years ago for Israel where he died recently. The other is Gregory (Hersh) Hassid who still lives in Grodno. I met him in the Hesed office where he told me in fluent Hebrew learned in the Jewish school before the war, his story, about life in the ghetto and his many escapes from death.

The Germans occupied Grodno on the day after the war broke out. The few people who tried to escape towards the east of Russia away from the invading army where caught by the German army which moved very fast across Belorussia. Gregory was seventeen years old that September. There were about thirty thousand Jews in Grodno at the time. Another thirty thousand lived in small towns and villages around and near Grodno.

Soon after Grodno was occupied, the Germans set up the ghetto, in fact, two ghettoes in different parts of the town. Gregory and his family were moved into the larger ghetto. The Germans spoke of labor camps to which all Jews would be finally moved. When they announced that they needed four hundred volunteers for the labor camp Gregory and his father joined the group. They were locked up in the large Grodno synagogue and from there put on a passenger train that was to bring them to Treblinka.

 Gregory heard some young men talking about jumping from the train. The only way was to jump out of the window. The young people queued up ready to jump. The first one out was shot at by guards stationed on the platforms of the train. The others hesitated to follow. Gregory told his father that he would jump. The father who was fifty years old encouraged him and told him to leave him, the father, to his fate, as he was an old man. When none of the other young peopled dared to jump out of the train, Gregory jumped. He too was shot at but he was not hurt.

For Kate, Scholarship Trumps Every Hardship

Six years ago, young Ekaterina Gudkova (“Kate” to her loved ones) lived in a modest but comfortable apartment with her family in Rustavi, Georgia. There was a kitchen and a private bath, as well as a piano and other precious possessions that had been in the family for years. Suddenly Kate’s childhood world was stripped from her when crushing debts forced the family to sell their belongings and move.

Today Kate is 15 and lives with her mother, Nina, and her grandmother, Vilgemina, in a two-room dormitory apartment also in Rustavi. Past comforts are a memory. The building is in serious disrepair, missing doors and windows. The communal areas reek of the sole, unsanitary toilet serving each floor of 10 apartments; only a makeshift curtain provides privacy. The tap near the toilet is the only source of water for the entire floor.

The small room of their dorm is also missing an outer wall, leaving it exposed to the elements.

“In winter it is extremely cold,” Kate writes. “We heat the facility with a wood-burning stove, and since wood cost a lot, my granny and I collect pieces from the forest nearby. In winter, I do my homework wrapped up in plaid to keep warm.”

The Tough Choices...

The latest briefing from Asher Ostrin, Executive Director, Former Soviet Union Programs:

We have spent the better part of the summer collecting data and doing all sorts of economic analyses in order to understand the full impact of the economic downturn on the people who depend on us in the FSU. We know that the situation there is bad; that unemployment and underemployment are rampant, inflation has eroded pensions, and so on. Last year we reduced our assistance to the elderly in real terms, and some 20,000 needy Jews were removed from our caseload.

The challenge that we face is not so much understanding the problem on the macro level. We know that many more need help, and many who receive help do not receive nearly enough. We can provide all of the data, and put forward proposals for what is needed. But I have felt all along that this is not enough. The data is important, but the human side of it all is of course paramount. The question, then, is how does all of this translate to the individual? What does it mean to say that many elderly Jews simply do not get enough support to live lives we would want for them? How do we get beyond repeating the "dilemma of food or medicine", so that our constituency doesn't become calloused by the sheer repetition?

What follows is an attempt to explain this situation from the perspective of the individual. By looking at one client who is not noticeably distinguishable from most of those we serve, and understanding a bit better her struggle for survival, we can hope for some insight into the impact we are trying to understand.

READ MORE AFTER THE JUMP