RIP: Margarita Civuncik, 23 June 2009

We received the sad news in late July that one of the survivors we had interviewed for this project, Margarita Civuncik, had passed away on 23 June 2009. Our condolences and prayers are with her family.

Margarita's life is a testimony to the courage of those who did not give in nor give up but found the strength and determination to persevere despite the odds.



Margarita was born Rita Tsives. She was the sixth child in a family of seven siblings. Together with the rest of her family, she was interned at Minsk ghetto and later forced into the streets during a pogrom, where convinced they would be killed, she escaped with her small daughter. She changed her name, forged identity documents, and fled, moving from village to village for the duration of the war, sometimes working, sometimes hiding, sometimes depending on the kindness of strangers. She found herself in Vilnius when the war ended and made it her home.

Her incredible experiences were recorded in her unpublished memoirs and the many poems she wrote for her children and grandchildren. Her family were her pride; she especially pointed out to us how they were a multicultural, multinational family - she told us: "The most important thing is to respect each other. It doesn’t matter what nationality a person is. I am against genocide. It is terrible… people against people. In my family, we are a mixture. We have become an international family, Lithuanian, Russian, Polish..."

We salute the amazing person Margarita was and the life she led. We are thankful for her generosity in telling us her story. The memories she shared, the gifts she gave us, her photos... these will be presented in the Surviving History: Portraits from Vilna exhibition, opening in Vilnius on 10th September 2009. We are honoured to have met Margarita, to be entrusted with passing on her experiences and the lessons she shared with us.

We salute an incredible woman, survivor, mother, grandmother.

Day 11: Recording a personal history

This morning, we catch up with Isroel at the synagogue again. We tried to give him a call first but did not manage to get him, so we chance it by showing up at the synagogue at 9 am. We wanted to ask him to talk through some of the items he has given and/or lent us for the exhibition. I unwrap the items and place them in front of him one by one. When he gets to his wife's silver spoon, he tears up. I don't think he has gotten over the shock of her passing so suddenly. But he is in a hurry; we get to talk for only 20 minutes or so. He tells us to come back again the next day. Isroel has taken a shine to us, I think. He seems to enjoy talking to us, even if each time we meet, we get to speak for only a limited time. He is a gentle man and very soft spoken. I look forward to meeting him again. However, he only has an hour for us tomorrow at the most, as he has to go home and get dressed for a funeral. He works almost like a freelancer; at funerals, he recites and sings the prayers in Hebrew.

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It is just pass noon when we get to Margarita's. What an unusual name, I think to myself, doesn't sound very Jewish. Her daughter and granddaughter greet us at the flat and we settle down to the interview. Margarita was born in 1919. She is the sixth child among seven siblings. Her dad was a shoemaker and her mom, a seamstress. She was a teacher and got married two-and-a-half months before her husband was drafted to the war. The last letter she received from him was dated 16th June 1941; he was killed after that.



As I listen to Margarita's story, the words 'resourceful' and 'sharp wits' come to mind. Her story contains moments which highlight her chutzpah - how she brazenly denies being a Jew so she can escape from a convoy of captives being marched away; her attempts to doctor her identity documents; hitching a ride with a German; to her efforts to keep herself, her teenage brother and young daughter alive.



What's really cool though, I think, is that her family seems to have been involved in helping her preserve her memories - as if they have been on a quest together with her to create a personal archive of what she has lived through. Her grandson was involved in helping her write a book; this is neatly typed and bound. She shows this to us; the hard cover book is carefully preserved in a cardboard case. Also her photo album. I wonder how long it took them to retrieve or collect all those photos from neighbours and other sources? They are carefully documented with names and dates. Not just of family members but extended relatives and neighbours and so on. It is clear her family are intent on preserving her memory and the events of that time.



I am also glad to see that the photo album doesn't just contain photos of those who suffered or lost their lives in the war. They also include happy memories of celebrations and of her children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. It seems befitting somehow; these items suggest to me that Margarita has not allowed the war or the holocaust to strip her of her personal sense of self or her belief in deserving happiness - she is not a victim, but a survivor.

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Jesse tells me today that a friend checked out this blog and was moved to find out the fate of his grandparents. It's good to know that our work here resonates with others and gives meaning. This reaffirms my faith in being part of this project. That telling personal stories is not only inspiring but also uplifting. It makes me think of what an official we spoke to last week said. He paraphrased Stalin (though I am not sure whether he meant to quote Stalin, which makes this all the more ironic considering Lithuania's history as a Soviet satellite): "the death of one is a tragedy while the death of many is a statistic." He of course was trying to illustrate a point - that the war claimed so many lives that it is difficult to bring the perpetrators to justice as much has been lost - mass graves do not lend themselves to easy answers. But it is the individual stories, like the ones we have heard here so far, that 're-humanises' and re-instates those who were numbers into people again. Well, at least I'd like to think so...