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Her incredible experiences were recorded in her unpublished memoirs and the many poems she wrote for her children and grandchildren.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 1: Getting a Sense of the Place

Today, we decide to venture off to The Green House, one of the museums operated by the Vilna Gaon Jewish State Museum of Lithuania. There is a Holocaust exhibition there. Shiv has spoken to the director there before. We decide to visit her to discuss a possible collaboration and to see if she is willing to set an appointment for an interview.

Shiv has been here, but the rest of us haven't. We decide to cab it as we aren't sure how far away it is. Turns out that it isn't too far. The cab drops us off on a nondescript street. I am surprised. I didn't imagine a museum to be housed here. It's hard to describe except that it looks like a suburban area with some shops nearby. There is a small sign mounted on one of the buildings which reads "Jewish Museum." (See picture below: can you spot it?)


The road leading up to The Green House

We walk up the hill and I see now why it is called The Green House. I imagined it was a glass building resembling a horticultural greenhouse. It is wooden and painted green.


The Green House

We spend a few hours there talking to the director and a volunteer from Austria. We get a tour and a history lesson. I learn some things about the Second World War and the holocaust in Lithuania I had never heard of before. Like how the war began for Lithuania on 22 June 1941. Where I come from (Malaysia), and as a Chinese descendant, the war began in 1939 (maybe even earlier, when I think about it, as the Japanese invasion of China began in 1937). How segregation of the Jews was swift - by 6 September 1941 the first ghetto was set up; and how, six weeks later, the first smaller ghetto was liquidated. Liquidated. That word; it has a fluid quality to it. It's not a word that was meant to apply to human lives. Makes me think of how water condenses and becomes air. Poof. A split second. The bat of an eyelid. Liquidated. 100,000 Jews were killed in Ponar alone. Of the 240,000 Jews in Lithuania, only 20,000 survived. The Jewish community today numbers 2,000. A far cry from the days when Vilnius was known as the Jerusalem of Lithuania or the Jerusalem of the North.

The director suggests we visit the Tolerance Center about 10-15 minutes walk away. She is busy and asks us to come back later. We head off. On the way, we decide to head for the Choral Synagogue, the only remaining synagogue in the city. We meet two caretakers; one of them, Isroel, agrees to be interviewed on Sunday. Saturday is off limits as it is the Shabbat.


Exterior of Choral Synagogue


Interior of Choral Synagogue

We head off, we are hungry now. We duck into a cafe. I order a Spanish sandwich. When it comes, I find I have the wrong one. Dan is eating my order. I get his cheese and tomato, melted in a panini roll. The food doesn't agree with us. Mine is odd. It has mayo in it. Globs. We eat a few bites and vow to look for 'real' food. I don't think we have gotten used to the flavours yet. Dinner last night was equally forgettable.

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At the Tolerance Center, we buzz a doorbell and are allowed in. I am not quite sure if the center is open to the public. I don't really understand about the need to be buzzed in. Did we come at the wrong time? The lady in attendance there is very nice. We tell her that we have been directed to the center by the director of The Green House. She unlocks the steel mesh on the upper floor so we can see the exhibit and allows us to take pictures. We take a few. Physical evidence of Jewish culture. Some are from the 18th century, salvaged from the remnants of the Vilnius Great Synagogue. [Below: Fragments of Reader's Table (Omed) and Prayer Shawl (Tallit) and Torah Ark's Doors]



It is almost time to head back to The Green House. We walk briskly and pass a park, where I can't resist taking this photo of a lady having a quiet lunch moment. The pigeon at her feet seems like a lunch companion.


Lunch for two

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The staff at The Green House are really nice. They welcome us warmly. We chat with Rachiel, the director. The conversation veers off to her personal story. She talks about the Nazi invasion and how she, like other children, were at a youth/children's resort by the sea when it happened. How among the children, there were Jewish kids too. How some went off to Sweden by sea, how some went off to Russia. Like her. To an orphanage. I am curious. Who told them to do so? How did they go without adults? Did their parents send money to them and organise passage? I guess we will hear more when we have a proper interview with her. We set a date and a time to do so.

It has only been day 2 but it has been very productive. We are all knackered and can't wait to get back, shower and have some dinner. I check my mobile. No news from Vy about the internet. I text him. I get a reply back that he is too busy and can't come. He suggests Saturday evening. I say okay and ask him to keep me posted. We will be meeting a historian and guide tomorrow. I know we will be out all day. I tell Vy that he needs to let me know sooner when he will come so we are in to let him into the apartment.

That night, we eat at an Irish place. Or at least a place owned by an Irish person. It is a mixed cuisine menu; there is pasta, there is Thai soup, there is fish. I order the Thai soup. It blows my socks off - all heat, no other flavour. I vow to myself to go with the safer option in the future.