A very sad thing happened in my life, which will remain engraved on my heart for ever. I was nine years old then, and our father died... He was still young. We lived then in a big house and had many rooms. At night it was simply terrible to be there. We were left four orphans. We thought we would have to die together with him. Every single night Father appeared in my dreams. After a few weeks we were registered at the orphanage in Sharashova. Before that I had studied at a Polish school. Afterwards we were enrolled, my brother and I, at the Hebrew school. I entered the second grade. In the lower grades I received good reports, but in the fifth and sixth grades not so good. And even that is good, since I have no books and borrow them from my friends. In summer Mother goes to the forests and gathers berries, and from that we make our living. My younger brother and I have also grown used to going to the forests. And this is not easy work. One has to get up at three in the morning and walk some seven or eight kilometres. Four years have passed since Father, of blessed memory, died.

Gitel Weinstein (grade 6, Hebrew school in Sharashova).