Every morning my mother would send me off on my way to Hebrew School. She gave me a package of food to last the whole day, which consisted mostly of a few slices of bread with chicken-fat, or sometimes a piece of goat’s cheese. Once in a "jubilee" she would also give me a kopek, I should have with what to buy something to put on my bread, such as a piece of halvah, or even a piece of pickled herring. But I didn’t use all my kopeks for treats...some of them I saved up to buy a present for mother, a kercheif for Passover. Mother would complain to my father that I had to spend the whole day without a warm meal, and that I was melting away "like butter in the sun". It bothered her that her son had been driven away from his father’s table, and had to go out and study with strangers....but what could she do?... "it had already been ordained", she would conclude with a sniff.

Late in the evening I would return home, along with all the other Zastavia schoolboys, and yeshiva-students, together with the tradesmen of Zastavia, who worked in town. Because to go alone was unthinkable, fraught with mortal dangers. First of all: the road from Kamenetz to Zastavia, which passed over a long wooden bridge, was a distance of some two kilometres. Second: the road was completely covered in pitch-darkness; because the old, hundred-year old maple trees, which stood on both sides of the road, with their thick branches, blocked the light not only of the moon and stars at night, but even the light of day. Not to mention the winter, when the blowing snow would play and dance, so that you couldn’t see your nose in front of your face.

Third (and this was the biggest problem): According to what they said in town, under the bridge there lurked the "evil spirits", lying in wait for unwary travellers. And the flocks of black crows, looking down from the branches of the trees, cast the fear of death...because it was plain to see that these were not just ordinary birds, but rather lost, forsaken souls, trapped in the bodies of these ugly, un-Kosher crows. And so when you passed along this road, you had to recite a prayer, while holding on to your fringed undershirt! This was essential, or else the "evil spirits" would have no mercy on you! So they used to say in town.

So each night we would gather in the home of of Hersh-Ber Carpenter, which was one of the very last houses in the town. There we would wait until the entire "Camp of Israel" was present. This consisted of two parts: one section belonged to the camp of "the hands of Jacob", who were the schoolboys and the yeshiva-students; the second section belonged to the so-called "hands of Esau", who were the able-bodied and apprentices: the cobblers, the taylors, and the carpenters, who were able to take a blow and give two in return. Ordinarily, there was no love lost between the "sons of the Torah" and the the workers and tradesmen...but in light of the circumstances where we had to pass together through "such a dangerous path)", we forgot the old enmity, which divided the scholar from the common working-man. For now, we were one great, united party, which was ready for anything...

And travelling with such a large group, the fear was not so great. The party was armed from head to toe with all kinds of implements of defense ...sticks, iron pikes, ropes, and lanterns. We walked side by side, holding on to each others hands. This gave us courage to face the mysterious enemy...and as soon as we came to the river, to the bridge, we would all together begin shouting at the top of our lungs, so that all the "evil spirits", the living dead, the souls of sinners, should be frightened away, and retreat deep, deep, into their dark holes...so we believed.

But sometimes it would happen that among our "party of heroes" there would be found a comedian, who decided to make a practical joke...and it was enought that he should suddenly give a geshray: "Hey, you guys, someone’s there....THE DEAD ARE CHASING US!"...and terror and confusion would break out among our ranks. We would scatter, falling over one another. Everyone would be shouting with confused voices that could be heard from far away.

And when I would burst through the door at home, all out of breath, my heart racing, my mother would quickly unbutton my long overcoat, and unwrap my warm clothes, which gave off a cloud of steam. She would take my frozen hands in hers, and blow on them with her warm breath. Soon a hot meal would appear on the table: potatoes smothered in chicken fat, or noodles, whose wonderful taste would flood your whole body. In those moments, I truly felt, that I had it made! It couldn’t have been any better in the Garden of Eden...

But on one of those winter nights, this is what happened: our "company" had just crossed over the bridges in in peace. In the distance, we could already see the fires flickering in the houses of the village. Suddenly, from behind us, we heard the grownling of a wild animal. Someone screamed out in panic: "A wild pig!"

There was a stampede! Each one ran off in his own direction, wherever his eyes led him - including me. But on account of my long overcoat, which had come down to me as an inheritance from my older brother, and which was too long and heavy for me...I couldnt keep up. The snow was up over my knees...mit alle koykhos I tried to run, but I could barely move. I was all alone in the middle of the field. And behind me I could hear the snorting of the wild boar. Soon it would throw itself on me and tear me to shreds, so that not a trace would be left of me! I fainted...before too long, the neighbors who had heard my cries came to lift me out of the snow and carry me home.

If it really was a wild boar, that had wandered into town from the forest, or just a ordinary pig that belonged to a Gentile neighbor, I do no know to this day. But one thing I remember clearly: when I came to my senses, opened my eyes and looked around to see where I was in the world, I saw myself lying in bed, on a mountain of pillows, with wet towels on my forehead. Around my stood my father, my mother, and my sister Pesheh - all of them with pale, frightened faces - and a house full of neighbors. Someone was waving a bone back and forth over my head: excorcising an "evil spirit": another neighbor, armed with saltshaker, was warding of the "evil eye". My mother was pouring molten wax over my head. And thanks to all these cures and remedies, which they administered to me, I was able to come out of this near-calamity in one piece.

But after that harrowing episode with the wild boar, mother would no longer permit me to go study in the town’s Hebrew School. Although she knew that for the holy Torah one was expected to "put one’s life at risk"...even so, she wasn’t willing to further risk the life of her child by sending him to study "on the other side of the bridge"..

"Never mind", she would argue, "thank God we have right here a father who is a teacher..." ...and so once again, I returned to study at my father’s table.