historical context
/.../ Two weeks have passed in the ghetto. Workers of subdivisions most useful to the Germans receive stamped professional worker certificates. Those who do not get such certificates will have to move with their families to the second ghetto. The just settled life is shaken once again. Uneasily people carry their belongings to the second ghetto.
Today is Yom Kippur. I don’t feel very well – I’ve got a fever. Today the ghetto is full of hitmen. They thought the Jews would not go to work, so they came to the ghetto to take them by force. All of a sudden the night becomes turbulent. People wake up. The gate opens. The uproar becomes louder. Lithuanians have come. I look at the yard and see them taking people with their bundles. I hear crashing and heavy steps on the stairs. But soon everything dies down again. Lithuanians get their money and leave. Thus the desperate Jews try to defend themselves. Dire news spread around in the morning. Several thousand people were taken away from the ghetto. They never came back.
Later, we found out about the liquidation of the second ghetto. The same happened and is still happening there as in our ghetto. Uneasy and turbulent days have come. People in the second ghetto look for salvation and run about inside the ghetto. Thus, the second ghetto becomes a trap for thousands of defenceless Jews. Big trouble is brewing in our ghetto too. The white certificates will be replaced with yellow ones, but those will be issued to few people.
Thus was the yellow certificate born – a bloody trick, a small piece of paper that became the great tragedy for the Vilnius’ Jews. Days are full of waiting. Days before the storm. Helpless people are shaken. They stagger in circles along the narrow streets like animals anticipating a storm and looking for a place to hide and save themselves. Family members of the holders of the yellow certificates are also registered on the same certificates. Thus the fate splits the people of the ghetto in two groups. Some of them have the yellow certificates. They believe in the power of those small pieces of paper. They gives them a right to live. Meanwhile, the others are lost. They can feel their doom and do not know where to go. We do not have the yellow certificate. Our parents are running about like hundreds of others as if in fever.
Something horrible is in the air. It is going to explode shortly. A restless night approaches. Streets are full of people. The registration of the owners of the yellow certificates is taking place. Everybody else tries to hide. The word ‘maline’ becomes very important. To hide, to barricade, to save one’s life – in a basement or in an attic. Many people beg the ones in the queue to register them on their yellow certificates. They offer money for the privilege of being registered.
The residents of our house go to a hideout. We join them. Three storeys of the goods warehouse in the yard of the house No. 14 on Šiaulių Street. The stairs run from one floor to another. The stairs leading from the first floor to the second are removed and the entrance is boarded up. The hideout consists of two small storerooms. It can only be accessed via a hole in the wall from another room which has a single wall with the room of the top floor hideout. The hole is ingeniously concealed with a kitchen cupboard. One of the cupboard walls serves as a door to the hideout. The hole itself is barricaded with rocks. The apartment leading to the hideout is located next to our room. Small groups of people are coming and coming carrying their belongings. Shortly, we crawl through the hole into our hideout too. A lot of people have gathered in the two storeys of the hideout. /.../
Today is Yom Kippur. I don’t feel very well – I’ve got a fever. Today the ghetto is full of hitmen. They thought the Jews would not go to work, so they came to the ghetto to take them by force. All of a sudden the night becomes turbulent. People wake up. The gate opens. The uproar becomes louder. Lithuanians have come. I look at the yard and see them taking people with their bundles. I hear crashing and heavy steps on the stairs. But soon everything dies down again. Lithuanians get their money and leave. Thus the desperate Jews try to defend themselves. Dire news spread around in the morning. Several thousand people were taken away from the ghetto. They never came back.
Later, we found out about the liquidation of the second ghetto. The same happened and is still happening there as in our ghetto. Uneasy and turbulent days have come. People in the second ghetto look for salvation and run about inside the ghetto. Thus, the second ghetto becomes a trap for thousands of defenceless Jews. Big trouble is brewing in our ghetto too. The white certificates will be replaced with yellow ones, but those will be issued to few people.
Thus was the yellow certificate born – a bloody trick, a small piece of paper that became the great tragedy for the Vilnius’ Jews. Days are full of waiting. Days before the storm. Helpless people are shaken. They stagger in circles along the narrow streets like animals anticipating a storm and looking for a place to hide and save themselves. Family members of the holders of the yellow certificates are also registered on the same certificates. Thus the fate splits the people of the ghetto in two groups. Some of them have the yellow certificates. They believe in the power of those small pieces of paper. They gives them a right to live. Meanwhile, the others are lost. They can feel their doom and do not know where to go. We do not have the yellow certificate. Our parents are running about like hundreds of others as if in fever.
Something horrible is in the air. It is going to explode shortly. A restless night approaches. Streets are full of people. The registration of the owners of the yellow certificates is taking place. Everybody else tries to hide. The word ‘maline’ becomes very important. To hide, to barricade, to save one’s life – in a basement or in an attic. Many people beg the ones in the queue to register them on their yellow certificates. They offer money for the privilege of being registered.
The residents of our house go to a hideout. We join them. Three storeys of the goods warehouse in the yard of the house No. 14 on Šiaulių Street. The stairs run from one floor to another. The stairs leading from the first floor to the second are removed and the entrance is boarded up. The hideout consists of two small storerooms. It can only be accessed via a hole in the wall from another room which has a single wall with the room of the top floor hideout. The hole is ingeniously concealed with a kitchen cupboard. One of the cupboard walls serves as a door to the hideout. The hole itself is barricaded with rocks. The apartment leading to the hideout is located next to our room. Small groups of people are coming and coming carrying their belongings. Shortly, we crawl through the hole into our hideout too. A lot of people have gathered in the two storeys of the hideout. /.../