rescuers of jews
Tekorienė Regina
/.../ I really regret that in my article They Are Impossible to Forget! I did not fully describe your heroism and nobility and only mentioned your first name and surname. I thought my husband would write a separate article; however, he could no longer do it.
Golda.
Alas, Golda Perienė herself could not do it either. Otherwise she would have described how her friend Lidija came to her brother-in-law, Antanas Tekorius, and asked him to help rescue the Perai family from the ghetto; how Antanas started acting without hesitation; how he managed to bribe a Gestapo officer and rescue the senior architect of Kaunas, Jokūbas Peras, and his eldest son, Joramas; how hard it was to get Peras and his son on a train with him to take them farther away from Kaunas; how the train attendant looked out of the corner of his eye at the black-eyed, dark architect, and how Antanas had to pacify the attendant with a bottle of vodka; how they became friends during that journey and decided to solve the problem in a simple and playful way – by dying the architect's hair. Later, Antanas Tekorius found work for his friend as a gardener on a farm in the village of Lingėnai. Tekorius worked in a flax-processing factory, and he would bring materials from the factory so that J. Peras could exchange them for food.
Antanas Tekorius was a versatile man. After he graduated in geodesic studies, he worked as a land surveyor, developed a good understanding of gardening, managed his old, small farm, and created jewellery. A good-hearted and enlightened person, he never refused to help. He was also a man of principle.
One evening a drunk man burst into his house without knocking, and he had something wrapped in a rag that stuck out of his pocket. While he was unwrapping his bundle, the man dropped cheese on the floor and scattered a pile of strange things on the table. “Make me some rings - I want to run to Germany because the Bolshevik will come again,” he said impudently. Antanas was horrified. He had already seen the killings of Jews in Plunge, and he would never forget the sight of the executioners dividing blood-stained clothes among themselves. And now he had a pile of gold capped teeth extracted with roots scattered on his table. At that moment his wife Tekorienė entered the house and exclaimed, “Go away, damned butcher, get out of sight!” Antanas just called the drunk “Degenerate!” Antanas never fixed rings again because they too could have been stripped off of a martyr's fingers.
The friendship continued after the war. Antanas Tekorius was the first person whom Golda Perienė sadly informed of her husband Jokūbas Peras' death.
“I recall the dark time of the occupation when people turned into beasts, while those who remained human would be scared to expose their real faces and would keep at a distance,” wrote G. Perienė. “And then you, hardly knowing our family and driven by the love of your neighbour, sheltered my husband and my son who had no roof over their heads and only one way out - to go back to the ghetto, to the jaws of death; you took them into your home in the village where you protected and cared for them right up until the liberation.
I am not a believer, but I am convinced that nature will have mercy on you, like you had on our family, that long years of your life with your children and grandchildren will bring you joy. Eternally grateful Golda Perienė.”
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 2,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 1999
Golda.
Alas, Golda Perienė herself could not do it either. Otherwise she would have described how her friend Lidija came to her brother-in-law, Antanas Tekorius, and asked him to help rescue the Perai family from the ghetto; how Antanas started acting without hesitation; how he managed to bribe a Gestapo officer and rescue the senior architect of Kaunas, Jokūbas Peras, and his eldest son, Joramas; how hard it was to get Peras and his son on a train with him to take them farther away from Kaunas; how the train attendant looked out of the corner of his eye at the black-eyed, dark architect, and how Antanas had to pacify the attendant with a bottle of vodka; how they became friends during that journey and decided to solve the problem in a simple and playful way – by dying the architect's hair. Later, Antanas Tekorius found work for his friend as a gardener on a farm in the village of Lingėnai. Tekorius worked in a flax-processing factory, and he would bring materials from the factory so that J. Peras could exchange them for food.
Antanas Tekorius was a versatile man. After he graduated in geodesic studies, he worked as a land surveyor, developed a good understanding of gardening, managed his old, small farm, and created jewellery. A good-hearted and enlightened person, he never refused to help. He was also a man of principle.
One evening a drunk man burst into his house without knocking, and he had something wrapped in a rag that stuck out of his pocket. While he was unwrapping his bundle, the man dropped cheese on the floor and scattered a pile of strange things on the table. “Make me some rings - I want to run to Germany because the Bolshevik will come again,” he said impudently. Antanas was horrified. He had already seen the killings of Jews in Plunge, and he would never forget the sight of the executioners dividing blood-stained clothes among themselves. And now he had a pile of gold capped teeth extracted with roots scattered on his table. At that moment his wife Tekorienė entered the house and exclaimed, “Go away, damned butcher, get out of sight!” Antanas just called the drunk “Degenerate!” Antanas never fixed rings again because they too could have been stripped off of a martyr's fingers.
The friendship continued after the war. Antanas Tekorius was the first person whom Golda Perienė sadly informed of her husband Jokūbas Peras' death.
“I recall the dark time of the occupation when people turned into beasts, while those who remained human would be scared to expose their real faces and would keep at a distance,” wrote G. Perienė. “And then you, hardly knowing our family and driven by the love of your neighbour, sheltered my husband and my son who had no roof over their heads and only one way out - to go back to the ghetto, to the jaws of death; you took them into your home in the village where you protected and cared for them right up until the liberation.
I am not a believer, but I am convinced that nature will have mercy on you, like you had on our family, that long years of your life with your children and grandchildren will bring you joy. Eternally grateful Golda Perienė.”
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 2,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 1999