September 6, 1941
A sunny and beautiful day has dawned. The streets are barred and surrounded by Lithuanians. Women walk back and forth, wring their hands and look at their houses that look as if after a pogrom. I walk with my eyes clouded among the bundles and realise that tonight we will be evicted from our homes. Shortly we see the first images of people moving towards the ghetto: as if in medieval pictures dark grey groups of people loaded with huge bundles are walking down the street. We realise that our turn is nigh. I look at the mess in the houses, at the confused and desperate people. I see things scattered around that were once sacred to me and that I was used to. We take our belongings to the yard. New groups of Jews constantly march down our street towards the ghetto. Some of the Jews from our yard start carrying their bundles to the gate. Non-Jews stand beside us and watch our sorrow. Some of the Jews hire non-Jewish boys to help carry their things. One of the neighbours steals a bundle. A desperate and confused woman is standing among her bags and tries to figure it out how to deal with them. She is weeping and wringing her hands. All of a sudden everybody starts weeping around me. People weep looking at their belongings that they are not able to carry with them. One of the woman’s bundles rips open and the eggs roll out. As if ashamed of the mischief done to us, the sun hides behind a cloud. The rain stats falling. We are carried by the crowd with all of our bundles. A long rank of Jews with their belongings stretches down the street. The first major tragedy. Harnessed in their bundles, people drag them down the sidewalk. They fall and the bags spill out. A woman before me bends down to her bundle. Rice is pouring out of it down the street in a narrow flow. I am carrying my weight disgruntled. The Lithuanians are pushing us forward and don’t allow us to rest. My head is empty – I don’t think of what I am losing, or what I have just lost, or what the future brings. I don’t see the streets before me or people passing by. I feel exhausted and hurt, as if a wound was burning inside of me. I can see the gate of the ghetto. I feel robbed. My freedom, my home, and the streets of Vilnius that were so familiar and loved have been torn away from me. I am separated from everything that was dear and valuable to me. There is a crowd of people at the gate. Finally I am on the other side of the gate. The flow of people throws me to the gate cluttered with bags. I drop my burden, as the bundles are cutting into my shoulders. I find my parents and we get into one of the ghetto houses. Twilight. Or rather darkness. Rain. Narrow streets of the ghetto – Rudninkų, Šiaulių, Mėsinių, Ligoninės, Dysnos – look like a hive swarming with crowds of people. The new arrivals try to settle in their own small spaces on their bundles. New Jews constantly come and come to the ghetto. We settle in our place. There are eleven people in the room beside us four. The room is dusty, cluttered, stale and overcrowded. The first night in the ghetto. The three of us lie together on two doors. I don’t sleep. Laments of the day ring in my ears. I can hear uneasy breathing of people who were blown here together with me and uprooted from their homes.
The first day in the ghetto begins. I run out straight into the street. Narrow streets are still full of anxious people. It is hard to get past them. I feel as if in a box. There is no air to breath. Wherever you go, you hit the gates that restrict you. We move towards the gate, which separates us from the Strašūno Street where I find my relatives and people I know. Many people are still homeless, so they simply settle on stairs and in sheds. The crowd in the street starts to swing and scared people try to flee. German officers prepare to take pictures of curved narrow streets and frightened people. They are enjoying the middle ages transplanted into the 20th century!
They leave shortly and people calm down. I decide to look for my friends in the yard. /.../
