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hytomyr Stotlands

 

June 18, 2002








When we left Kiev to travel to Narodichi, we weren't sure what we would find. We had found some information about Narodichi on the web and most intriguingly the source for that information had been a woman by the name of Stotland. We had tried calling a contact number given in the article, but had not been able get through. So, we took a train from Kiev to a small railroad town called Korosten.

There we found a hotel and set off to find out how to get to Narodichi. We knew that the train didn't go there, so we walked over to the town bus station to ask what time the bus would leave the next day. It turned out to be terribly difficult. Perhaps it was Jan's lack of fluency in Russian, but although she understood that there was a bus to Narodichi, she couldn't get any kind of timetable out of anyone she spoke to. However, by dint of hanging around, we were in the station when the afternoon Narodichi bus came in, en route to Narodichi. There we asked the driver what time the first bus to Narodichi left in the morning and got some kind of reasonable response. Jan was happy with that and ready to go back to the hotel, but Gerry was more persistent. He wanted to ask everybody on the bus if they knew anybody called Stotland in Narodichi. Being shy by nature, Jan resisted his urging for a while, but finally gave in and asked a middle-aged woman that very question. Imagine her amazement when the woman immediately said that yes, she did know a Boris Stotland. Once again, Jan's Russian failed her. It seemed that the woman was saying that Boris no longer lived in Narodichi but in another city and lived opposite or near her son. Jan didn't manage to get any more details before the bus left and took the woman with her.

The next morning, we were at the bus station well in advance of the expected departure time and easily got two seats on the bus, which actually was nothing more than a passenger van. The bus deposited us in the main square of the village and after many repetitions we confirmed that the last bus would leave at four p.m. That meant that we had five hours to explore.

It was a cool, damp, day and within five minutes the few passengers from the van, including a forty-something school teacher who had practised his halting English with us all the way here, had disappeared from view. We walked across the open square that served as a bus station, crossed a street and came to a park. Gerry was beginning to realize that he might be walking where his grandmother, mother, aunts, and uncles used to stroll. What a strange thought that was. We walked through the park, wondering how to begin our search, when Gerry spotted a signboard on a building on the edge of the park that in cyrillic letters said Biblioteka. It was the local library. Why not start here?

Inside, we were pleased to find that the clerk was one of the people who had been on the bus with us. We were more than pleased to learn that she also knew someone by the name of Stotland from Narodichi. Altogether, we spent more than an hour in the library, and learned from the director of the library and her two assistants that the woman from the article, ?? Stotland had died recently and that after her death, her brother Boris and his daughter Tanya had moved from Narodichi to Zhytomyr. We also learned that Tanya Stotland had worked in this very library for several years, that Boris had been the director of Narodichi's cultural center (dom kulturi) and that the family was the last Jewish family to have lived in Narodichi. The librarians showed us an article in a large tome with a brief history of Narodichi in Ukrainian. Gerry took digital photos of the article, more of which later.

The librarians were of a common accord that Boris and Tanya would be delighted to know that we were here and would almost certainly like to meet with us. They offered to call them for us and arrange a meeting. We accepted gratefully and said we would come to Zhytomyr the next day, if that was convenient. Making the phone call proved a little difficult, however, and so in the meantime, we asked if we could visit the local Jewish cemetery. We were told that of course, we could visit the Jewish cemetery, but that we should be aware that it was post-war. The pre-war cemetery in which Gerry's relatives are likely to have been buried was destroyed by the Nazis. Nonetheless, we visited the post-war cemetery and Gerry took pictures of as many gravestones as he could given the poor state of the stones and the amount of overgrown shrubs and trees.

When we got back to the library, we learned that contact had been made and that the Stotlands in Zhytomyr were expecting us. Jan took down the directions to their apartment very carefully and off we went to catch the last bus back to Korosten, where the following morning we took the bus to Zhytomyr. We had been told to catch a tram and get off at the cigarette factory. At first Jan was a little sceptical, but her request to the conductress was understood immediately and agreed to with a smile! The tram that was very full when leaving the bus station was much less so when we reached the cigarette factory and got off. Without too much difficulty, we located the builidng and after asking for and misunderstanding some directions, we found ourselves finally at the right door.

We quickly met Boris Stotland, former director of the Narodichi cultural center, and his daughter Tanya, former librarian of the Narodichi library. We also met Boris's sister Fanya, her daughter Natasha and Natasha's husband Sergei. Over a very long lunch, we learned as much of their family history as Jan's Russian could handle. Boris didn't recognize any of the names we mentioned to him. We learned that his father was Yakov Stotland, the son of Naum (???). It is certainly possible that there is a relationship but we couldn't confirm it.


 


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