[Music plays] >> Bill Benson: Welcome. Thank you for joining us for First Person: Conversations with Holocaust Survivors. I'm Bill Benson, and I have hosted First Person
since it began at the Museum in 2000. Each month, we bring you first-hand accounts of
survival during the Holocaust. Each of our First Person guests serves as a volunteer at the Museum.
Holocaust survivors are Jews who experienced the persecution and survived the mass murder that was
carried out by the Nazis and their collaborators. This included those who were in concentration
camps, killing centers, ghettos, and prisons, as well as refugees or those in hiding. Holocaust survivors
also include people who did not self-identify as Jewish, but were categorized as such by the
perpetrators. During our program, please send us your questions and let us know where you are
watching from in the live chat. We are honored to have Holocaust survivor Nat Shaffir share his
first-hand account of the Holocaust with us. Nat, thank you so much for agreeing to be our First
Person today. >> Nat Shaffir: Thank you. Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'm honored to be here and share with
you a little bit of my personal experience as to what happened to me and my family during the
Holocaust. >> Bill Benson: Nat, you have so much to share with us, we'll just go ahead and get started right away in
our brief hour together. Nat, you were born in Romania in December 1936, less than three years
before the start of World War II. Will you begin by telling us about your family and your community
in the years leading up to the start of the war? >> Nat Shaffir: Both my parents were born in small
villages in the eastern part of Hungary. My mother was the oldest of 12 children
and my father was the youngest of seven. My mother's mother died in childbirth with
her 10th child, and my mother being 13 years old and the first, oldest girl, was able
actually to take care of her nine siblings. And a few years later her father remarried
and two children were born. The new wife, not only didn't she want to take care of somebody
else's 10 children, but she insisted that my mother take care of her two children, which she
did. In 1924, my father and two of his brothers decided to leave home and immigrated to Romania
where they settled in a village called Bucium where they established a dairy farm. Before long
they became very successful because my father was able to secure the Romanian Army
as their prime customer for their dairy products. A few years later, my father decided it's time
for him to get married. The most logical place to find a bride in those days was for someone
to go back to the village one came from, where people knew him and he knew them. So that's
what he did. In 1930 he went back to Hungary, found a girl, a week later he was married, stayed
in the village for another week or so and then they boarded a train for Romania. It's important
to know that it was my mother's first time on a train and first time outside of her village. My
mother was only 16 when she got married to my father. >> Bill Benson: Just think about the rapidity of that change.
One week they meet, they marry, she makes her first trip ever out of the village on a train, and
moves to another country. That's pretty amazing. >> Nat Shaffir: The reason they stayed in the village, by the
way, for another week because according to Jewish religion you have these seven days of prayers, of
of goodwill prayers, so that's why they stayed for another week. So they arrived
at the farm, they settled in the house that my father built, and before long three children
were born, two girls and a boy, and I'm that boy. >> Bill Benson: Tell us about your sisters if you don't mind. >> Nat Shaffir: I had two sisters. My older sister, her name was Sara and my younger sister, which I
used to call my little sister, her name was Lili. She was about two years younger than me. >> Bill Benson: And I think we have a photograph of your sisters here. >> Nat Shaffir: Yeah that's the one. So we see in here to the
right is my mother, which is the woman a little shorter than the one on the left. To her right,
which was the other woman, is my mother's next sister which was one year younger than her.
Below her is my older sister Sara, and to her side, the one circled, is myself. Maybe a year
and a half almost, less than two years old. And this looks like on a kind of fall
day sometime, maybe. And her name was Chanah, my mother's sister was Chanah. She probably
came for a vacation or came just to visit, and that's when the picture was taken. >> Bill Benson: And I think we'll probably talk a little bit more about Chanah later in the program. Tell us about
your family's dairy farm. What was that like? >> Nat Shaffir: For 18 years that my father lived on that
farm, he lived in peace and harmony with the Gentile farmers in the area. He traded with
them, he helped them whenever they needed help. So everything was good in the farm. As a
four-year-old growing up on that farm, I was given daily chores to take care of: collecting the eggs
from the chicken coop or feeding the small animals. It was a primitive life but it was a great life.
Personally I love nature, I love the open fields, the animals. So I think it was okay. I went
to kindergarten, I went to first grade. I had both Jewish and non-Jewish friends. One of our
friends, one of our neighbors, was the priest of the town. That priest used to come by our house and
ask my father for a donation to the church every week and also for some dairy products for some of
his congregants who could not otherwise afford it. In those 18 years, my father never once refused
such a request, until things changed. >> Bill Benson: Do you personally remember living the farm life?
Do you remember that? >> Nat Shaffir: Yes. Not only do I remember also seeing the priest coming by because every time he came,
there was open field we lived on, and my mother always used to send us out to go out and greet
the priest and ask him about his health, ask him about his family. So we always kind of did that
almost every time that the priest came out. >> Bill Benson: Tell us what you can about what
kind of community Bucium itself was. >> Nat Shaffir: Bucium was a small farm community. The total population I
don't remember, but I know there was about 75 percent Gentile and 25 percent Jewish. Almost
the entire Jewish community was Orthodox. We had our synagogue, we
had our services, so everything was normal life, the same life that these people had prior to
coming to Bucium when they came from Hungary. >> Bill Benson: And anything more you can share with us about
sort of what family life was like for you? >> Nat Shaffir: It was a quiet life. We lived, you know,
in our own house. My father's brothers lived a little bit further up on the hill
on the same farm because it was kind of spread out. There were three houses: one was our house, one
was my father's oldest brother's house, and one was my father's middle brother's house. They had children as
well, so we kind of used to see them from time to time. But what I mostly liked being on the farm
was to hang out with the farm help. They taught me how to milk a cow and ride a horse at age
five, so I was always kind of part of that group. >> Bill Benson: And this photo was actually taken later
after the war but this is your family with you, your mom and dad, and your two sisters. >> Nat Shaffir: That's correct. And you can see my father with a little beard that he had, and so
that showed somebody's religiosity. Myself with a different kind of an outfit
you don't see today anymore. >> Bill Benson: Nat, in 1940, a new Romanian dictatorship
introduced antisemitic policies, restricting Jewish life in Romania. The country aligned
itself with Nazi Germany, joining the Axis Powers in November 1940. Will you tell us
how this impacted Jewish life at that time? >> Nat Shaffir: We heard many things going on in different
parts of Romania and Hungary, but we really didn't know exactly to what effect it actually happened
against Jewish people. But little by little, things filter in to the Bucium area that
Jews are being killed, Jews are being sent away, very bad pogroms are happening. So there was
a lot of problems going on between the Christian or between the Gentiles and the Jewish people, so
the Jewish people were pretty much afraid what was going on. Us ourselves in Bucium did not feel that
antisemitism that much as it was felt in the big city of Iași for two reasons. Number one, because
we're kind of small community, nobody really bothered us and second, because my father dealt with the
army so they kind of pretty much protected us in a way. >> Bill Benson: And you mentioned, Nat, of course,
that you were getting word, you were hearing there were pogroms going on elsewhere. In July 1941,
Romanian authorities staged a pogrom, violent mob attacks against the Jewish population, in
the nearby city of Iași. Can you tell us about this particular pogrom? >> Nat Shaffir: There were two pogroms. One is
this one which is Iași, shown here, that people were rounded up on the street and for no reason
whatsoever, they were beaten up, some of them the police did not like what they look like
or did not like what they're wearing, they took them down on the street and shot them and let them
stay there for a few days. So as you can see in here, these people, the Jews, are round up next to a
store. If you take a look at the upper right-hand corner of that store, it says "Steinberg" which must
have been a -- it was a Jewish store. And the policeman -- there is one policeman and two soldiers
with arms kind of watching them. Some of these people probably later on were dragged to the
middle of the street and shot. That's why most of the people in 1940 never went outside because
they were afraid they would be rounded up and killed. Also a lot of the neighbors, some of their
neighbors, were killing Jewish people literally with shovels, axes, pipes, anything they can get a hold of
strictly for one reason: to take away their property. >> Bill Benson: Nat, you mentioned a second pogrom. >> Nat Shaffir: This happened in July of 1941 where
three trainloads of Jews were loaded in Iași and were ferried in the height of the heat
in July south to Călărași for three days. And after three days, these three
train loads came back to Iași with half of the Jews in these cars were dead. Because they
didn't have any food or water, so after three days they were dead. So in the month of -- the end
of June and the beginning of July, 10,000 Jews were murdered. Some of them by the authorities
and some of them strictly by their neighbors. >> Bill Benson: And these particular two horrible pogroms that
you just mentioned, how soon do you know that your family heard about these? >> Nat Shaffir: They pretty much heard it
right away because some of the hired help would go into Iași to bring in supplies to the farm,
so we were told about these pogroms going on. There was other small ones, small beatings,
and small killings, but these were major, major pogroms. >> Bill Benson: Nat, before we go on, I'd like to let
you know that you are being listened to and watched from people not only around the United
States but across the globe as a matter of fact. I'd like to welcome our viewers who are
watching from all over the place. We have viewers in Washington, DC, Florida, North Carolina,
Iowa, and Texas. And welcome to our international viewers today in France, Malta, Denmark, Argentina,
and Germany. And I'd like to share with you, Nat, a comment from a viewer named Rosa. Rosa writes,
"Greetings from Malta. I really appreciate these conversations. Thank you, Mr. Shaffir, for sharing
your experiences." >> Nat Shaffir: Thank you, Rosa. >> Bill Benson: And I'd also like to remind our audience that if they have questions for you, and we hope that they do, that they please send them via the chat. Nat, in the fall of 1942,
Jewish families from Bucium were abruptly forced from their homes and told to move to the Socola
neighborhood in Iași. Tell us what happened to you and your family. >> Nat Shaffir: One day in November of 1942, the
same priest that used to come by the house every week, this time he came with police officers
and two armed soldiers... >> Bill Benson: The same one that came and asked your dad for his help all those times? >> Nat Shaffir: That's correct. >> Bill Benson: Okay. >> Nat Shaffir: So since this never happened before, we all came out from the house and found
out what was going on. When we came close to the group, the priest turned to the police officers
and pointing at us, he said to the police officers, "Ăşti Jidans." "These are Jews." So we were turned
into the authority because we were Jews, by the priest, the same priest who asked and received
help from my father every week for 18 years. But then the police officer told us that we have
four hours to vacate the farm because we are being relocated. Both my parents tried to reason with
him, tried to beg him to let us stay, but obviously it did not happen. So the first thing we
did we went back into the house to start to pack. Now you look around, whatever you have in the house
that you used, what do you take? You have four hours. What do you take? So my father being kind of an
important figure and he knew exactly what needs to be done, and under circumstances he said,
"The first thing we need to take, all the valuables that we can trade later on with, and then we take
some necessities that we know what we're going to need." Now at this point, we pretty much knew where
we were going because again, it was established in 1941 about a year earlier. So the first thing we
did we took all the cash we had in the house, we took my mother's jewelry, took candlesticks that my
mother was lighting candles every Friday night. Then we start taking clothing, cooking and baking
utensils, bedding, blankets, and things like that. So once the four hours were over, we were taken
to the Socola ghetto and turned over to the ghetto authorities. That day... >> Bill Benson: Before you go on, Nat, some of the things that I think we're seeing, examples of the few things that you were able
to take with you. Tell us about this. >> Nat Shaffir: This is a pair of candlesticks that my mother lit candles
every Friday night. And that has been handed over from mother to daughter, from mother to
daughter, for about few generations. My mother was the fifth generation to receive these candlesticks.
These candlesticks were made in 1745. And my mother -- usually the mother would give
it to their older daughter. My mother kind of broke that system, and she gave it instead of to her
older daughter, she gave it to my wife which was her daughter-in-law. And my wife also broke the
the mold and gave it to my younger daughter, which she still has them at this point and she lights
candles on every Friday night. >> Bill Benson: And I think we have another picture of something else that your family was able to take. >> Nat Shaffir: We took some bibles and we took some prayer books. This is a book called
the Haggadah Shel Pesach. This is a book that we use for Passover. So one of the things we took -- we took
that, we took some Megillah which was for for Purim. So we tried to figure out, continue
our Jewish heritage, so we took those with us. >> Bill Benson: So you were given four hours, after 18 years of your parents having this farm to gather everything -- or your father having the farm -- gather everything. How
did you carry the things, and what was your journey to Socola like? Do you remember that? >> Nat Shaffir: Very, very easily. First of all, many Jews were rounded up that day and the surrounding towns
and villages of Iași imported to that ghetto. Once we arrived in the ghetto, we were turned over to
the ghetto authorities but were told we were number one, they were taking down our names, gender,
and ages. We were given a yellow star that we had to wear on our left breast pocket at all times. We
were given ration cards for bread and kerosene. Religion was against the law at this point.
Jewish children could no longer go to school. Living quarters, we received one room in a
house that already housed four other families. Total people that lived in these five
rooms under one roof was 28. So needless to say it was very, very crowded. In addition to that, every
individual between the ages of 18 and 50 was assigned a manual job to do whatever the
government needed to do. My mother's job was to be an orderly at the hospital where she had to
scrub toilets and scrub floors. My father's job was to sweep the streets, or some of the streets
that he was assigned to in Iași, and then later on he was cleaning the market area which
every Thursday was the market area for Iași. >> Bill Benson: Nat, we have a question from a viewer named Debbie. Debbie asks, "As a five-year-old, what was
your understanding of what was happening?" >> Nat Shaffir: As a five-year-old probably most what I can
remember was the hate that people showed against Jewish people, especially figuring out children
and women and so on. So that was the most thing I remember was the hate that was showed. >> Bill Benson: Do you know, Nat, when you were forced to leave Bucium and go to Socola, do you
think your parents thought this was a temporary event and that they would be able
to return to the farm at some point? >> Nat Shaffir: Originally probably there was the idea that
that would happen only temporarily, but once we arrived there we pretty much
heard what was going on in other parts of Europe, Eastern Europe, and we knew that
we're here for the long haul. >> Bill Benson: Tell us a bit more about sort of daily life
living in Socola, particularly how did your parents manage to get the basic necessities of
just staying alive, like food and clothing and heat, things like that? >> Nat Shaffir: As I mentioned earlier, we received ration cards for bread and kerosene. The ration cards for bread consisted of
a quarter of a loaf of bread per person every two days and five liters of
kerosene once a week per family. Just to give you an idea what a quarter of
a loaf of bread is, approximately six slices about three quarters of an inch thick.
That would have to last us for two days. So to receive these rations, we had to go outside
of the ghetto and line up at the bakery or at the kerosene station. My father told my older sister
to go and get the bread rations because the bakery was not that far away
from where we lived and the kerosene station was pretty far away and also it was very heavy
to carry all the way back, so I got that job. So my father sent my older sister to get the
bread rations until one day he found out there were some hooligans picking on Jewish girls, and he
was afraid something would happen to my sister. So from that date on, he sent me to get the
bread rations. Now it's important to know that the same hooligans not only picked on
Jewish girls, but they also picked on Jewish boys. Many times I would come home all beaten up with
a bloody face, but that never hurt me as much as when these hooligans also stole my bread, which
meant for the next two days we had nothing to eat. When my mother noticed the first time the thing
happened, she also noticed that this could happen again, and from that date on she started rationing us
from our own rations. In other words, the first time I got my rations of bread she removed one slice.
Two days later she removed another slice, and we had the old slice we ate, until she accumulated
an entire loaf of bread this way. So we had one reserve. And then when these hooligans again stole my bread, at least we had something reserved with something to eat. >> Bill Benson: But just to focus on that for a
minute. In order to have something to eat, if you were to have your bread stolen, the little meager
bread that you had, she had to reduce the amount you could eat in order to store away that one
extra loaf, just in case. >> Nat Shaffir: That's correct. And this way, we never had fresh bread. We always ate one day or
two year old bread. >> Bill Benson: Nat, your father helped so many people in the community for so long
through his previous work with his farm. Did your parents receive any help from anyone they knew? >> Nat Shaffir: As I also mentioned earlier that part of my father's job that he was assigned to was to sweep
the streets of Iași and also to clean the market area on Thursdays because Thursday was the
market for Iași. One day, one Thursday when he was cleaning the area, an old farmer who my father helped
many, many times and he knew my father very well, approached him and said, "I'm so sorry to see you
under these circumstances. You and your brothers were good people, you helped so many of us and
here you are having to pick up the manure from my horse and from oxens. Really breaks my heart
to see you that way. Is there anything I can do for you to help?" And my father told him right away,
says, "Yes some extra food would help us a lot." So he said, "I'm going to see what I can
do." The next week when he came back to the market, he told my father that a few of the
farmers that my father helped in the past realized what a great help he was for them during
these years. They decided it's willing for them to help. Keep in mind that it was against the law to
help Jewish people, and anybody caught helping Jewish people could reasonably be arrested. So
this farmer said to my father that, "We're going to try and help you and here's how we're
going to do it so we cannot be arrested." He said, "All the farmers get together in
a large field and as a caravan they move on Wednesday night all together to the market area to
arrive there Thursday morning. That caravan passes the outskirts of the ghetto
between two and three o'clock in the morning." He says, "In the north part of the ghetto about
one kilometer outside the ghetto, there's a little church with some trees around it. Be there and look
out for between two and three o'clock in the morning." By the way, being outside between two and three o'clock in the morning only meant one thing: that the individual is
trying to flee, which would be punished by imprisoned but probably shot as well. So
my father did decide to take that chance, and he went out to meet these farmers to see
what was going on and see what can help. So my father was waiting for this caravan to come
forward and then when he saw the caravan, then he was looking out for the last three wagons because that
farmer told him that's where they're going to be. So he waited and then before long, these
last three wagons stopped in front of that church and they dropped a sack of stuff
next to the road. My father waited until they all left, waited some more to make sure that
there's no police to look what happened, and then he went out, picked up that sack, and went
back to the ghetto. That morning when we found out what had happened during the night, my mother
was very upset at my father for risking his life. But then when he opened that sack and he took out
some eggs and some cheese and some apples, and my mother saw the smile of our faces she
realized -- she mellowed -- and she realized that what he was doing, he's doing for the family and she let him go
out every Thursday after that to bring back some things. And every Thursday we found various other
things in the sack. Also it's important to remember that each ghetto had a black market and
so did ours. So sometimes my father would take me with some of the items that we received from
these farmers to the black market area to trade eggs for potatoes, potatoes for apples, whatever we needed.
And then he always took me with him not only for his protection, but also to carry
this contraband because a grown-up carrying contraband was anything else besides the bread that
we carried from the bakery was contraband. So if it's a grown-up carrying this contraband, he would
be arrested. A child would be slapped around by the police a couple of times and let go.
So I always went with my father trading on the black market. That really taught me a lot of experience. >> Bill Benson: That's remarkable what you've just described to us. Both the farmers and your
father taking immense risks, it had to be, for your father, it had to be extraordinarily, not
only stressful but frightening, and then to do that over and over again. Remarkable. Nat, we
have -- while living in the Socola ghetto, you and your family faced many restrictions, of
course. We have a video question from a student, Saniya, related to these circumstances.
So let's go ahead and hear from Saniya. >> Saniya: Hi, my name is Saniya. I'm from
Laurel, Maryland. And what did you do when you weren't allowed
to go to public school anymore? >> Bill Benson: Saniya asks, "What did you do when you weren't allowed to go to public school anymore?" >> Nat Shaffir: Thank you, Saniya, for that question. Education
was very, very important to my mother that we get educated. And obviously when she realized
we can no longer go to school, she had to figure out something else what could be done. Because my
father, after coming back from a hard days of labor in the ghetto, and my mother the same thing, it was
very hard to teach. But there's one old rabbi and his wife that were in the ghetto as well. She
tried to convince him how important it is for him to continue education to other children, so he
agreed to tutor us. He taught us religious subjects and his wife taught us secular subjects, like
math and reading and so on. For that, my mother always used to take something that we received
from these farmers. She said, "Nat, take this to the old rabbi." Either was a piece of bread or some
cornbread, there's a couple of potatoes so, because the money, he couldn't do anything with that
because he couldn't go out and buy anything. It was against the law for a Jew to go into a
store even though they could go outside together but they couldn't buy anything. So that's what
helped him a lot and that's what helped us a lot. >> Bill Benson: Nat, there were so many restrictions on you.
You couldn't go to school, you couldn't leave the ghetto, so many things you couldn't do.
Were you allowed to practice your religion in any way, and did your family
find a way to practice their religion? >> Nat Shaffir: Well, practicing religion was against the
law right away, so you could not gather in any way, a few different Jews. So for us in
particular, religious Jews need 10 people to be able to pray as a group, but nonetheless,
people had -- it was very important to them to continue their religion so they would be
gathering from time to time in different rooms somewhere and continue their prayers. So
we did that but did that in private. >> Bill Benson: Nat, I know you as an adult, as a really
adventurous and vigorous, always in motion. There you were a little boy in those circumstances.
What was life like for you as a boy? >> Nat Shaffir: It was pretty tough. It was very, very hard. We couldn't go anywhere, we couldn't do anything
but then, we couldn't do anything because we were starving to death almost every day. We were
hungry every day. But that really did not stop us in a way, because we tried to do whatever we were
able to do, number one, go visit my cousins that were a little bit part of the other
part of the ghetto, the ones that my father's older brothers', sisters and all the
brothers and the youngest brother. So we were doing that, but then after a while I had
to pretty much take care of the family myself. >> Bill Benson: And Nat, you've mentioned that
you had ration cards for kerosene. Tell us about the importance of kerosene fuel at the
time and about your experience with Grigore. >> Nat Shaffir: To receive the kerosene rations, again, we had
to walk outside the ghetto to line up at the kerosene stations. Now to give an idea of what
it looks like, it's like if -- a kerosene station is like a little country type gas station.
So there was a little booth and a little box in the front of the booth which carried in front
of the box was a cylinder. In the front of that cylinder was a handle, and every time you move
that handle right to left, that would bring up some kerosene into that cylinder. Once the
cylinder was full, that would be the five liters. So one day I tried to figure out how
can I get a little bit extra kerosene? And see, especially after my father risked his life going
out for us, I said, "What can I do to help the family?" So I came to the point that I had an idea and once
I got to the point where I had to get my rations for that week, I asked the attendant -- his name was
Grigore, I'll never forget his name or his face -- so I said to him, "Dominu Grigore, I'd like to help you." And I used the word "Dominu" which is a title for somebody very important, very educated with a lot of power. Grigore on the other
hand was uneducated, lazy, and a drunk. He didn't like to work, he didn't like to do anything. So I told
him, "Dominu Grigore, I'd like to help you." And then he said to me, "How are you going to do that, little
Jidan?" He called me little Jidan, little Jew, because I was not that tall kid. So I said, "Looks
like you're sick. Why don't you let me help you do your job and if that pleases you, please give
me an extra bit of kerosene because I can use it. I have a little sister at home, she is sick. A little
bit extra warmth in the house would help us a lot." He didn't say anything. I got my rations and
went back home. The next week I lined up again like I always do, but instead of Dominu
Grigore going into his booth to warm up, he kept moving along the line that everybody was lined
up and when he made eye contact with me, he motioned to me to come forward. And when I
came forward he said to me, "Okay little Jidan, let me see what we can do." It was not a big deal to
pump a little kerosene even for a seven-year-old. So I did that and I was hoping he's going to give
me something in return. He didn't. The next week he said, "You don't have to wait in line anymore.
You're doing a good job. Come and wait for me at the pump." Which I did. And again, I finished
the day's work, he didn't give me anything in return. It took him about four weeks until he said to me, "Little Jidan, next time you come, bring an extra can." And from that point on, he gave me an extra
liter and depends how drunk he was, sometimes he'd forget he already gave me, he gave me another
liter. Which I never said anything. So it was a good relationship, he and I had a good relationship.
One day I remember looking for a shirt because all the stuff that we had brought with us, we stored
underneath the beds. So when I looked for a something for a clean shirt, I found a bottle of
Slibowitz. For those who don't know what Slibowitz is, it's a plum brandy. So I found
the bottle of Slibowitz, I decided to take that Dominu Grigore. So I came to the station and I said to
him, "Dominu Grigore, I have a present for you." I opened up -- I wrapped it in a shirt -- I opened
it up and I showed him the Slibowitz, and his eyes lit up so it must have been a very good
bottles of Slibowitz. So he said to me, "I presume you want some extra kerosene for that." And I
said, "Actually, no. What I would like is that you could do that, give me another ration card for
a family of four where this way, once I have another ration card, they can get another five
liters of kerosene, another loaf of bread." Took about three weeks. He came back and he gave
me a ration card for another family of four which later on helped me a lot, trading for other things. >> Bill Benson: I have to remind myself that on top of all that you've just described, you're a little boy and
you're carrying this kerosene each week, and doubling the load at some point. Remarkable.
Let me ask you this, Nat. You were just about seven years old at this time. Can you reflect on
what you think gave you the courage to even think of this, and then to go and approach this man and
make your proposition to him? >> Nat Shaffir: Well, there was, first of all, I figured I remembered what my father did
for us. As I mentioned, what can I do for the family and what can I do to pay my father back?
And also to make him proud, because my father and I had a great relationship and I always looked up
for my father and I wanted to emulate him, what he was doing so I can do the same thing. So this was
one of the things that I thought maybe I can do, and maybe be able to be successful at that. The other
way, I never thought of not being successful so I always thought positive, so I didn't think
it's going to fail but then, it could have. >> Bill Benson: Before we go on Nat, I'd like to remind our
audience to please share their questions with you via the chat feature, so please
keep those questions coming. Nat, life continued in this way for you for about seven months until June
1943 when your family was no longer able to remain together. Tell us what happened to cause your
family to no longer be together. What happened to your father? >> Nat Shaffir: In June of 1943, my father was ordered
to be deported to a forced labor camp. And the day he was supposed to go to the meeting
area where he was supposed to report, I asked him if I can walk with -- we go walking he said to me,
"Nat, things will get worse before they get better, but never give up." And he repeated that, never give up,
and I remembered that for many, many years afterwards. Also as we continued walking,
finally he stopped and he said, "Nat, it's time for you to go back to
the ghetto -- to the house." Then he turned to me, he put both his hands on my
shoulder, and he said five words to me that I would remember these five words for the rest
of my life. He said, "Nat, take care of the girls." As I mentioned, I was not yet seven years old. You
can't imagine the weight of these five words that I had to carry on my shoulder at all times. >> Bill Benson: Nat, we just had a question just pop up from one of our viewers. Victoria in Tennessee asks, "What
were your emotions" -- you just started to talk a little bit about -- "what were your emotions when
your father told you take care of the girls?" >> Nat Shaffir: I could have said two things. I could have
said, "I will try." Or, "I'll do my best." But again being a positive individual, I said, "I will take care of
the girls, Papa. I will." So the emotion was that, okay my father is not going to be here but it's my
turn to take care of the family, and that's what kept me really moving
forward because not only was it for me, but I figured if I don't survive and if I give up, my
mother and my two sisters would not survive either. >> Bill Benson: When your father was deported, did you know
what work he ended up doing? Were you able to find that out? >> Nat Shaffir: We didn't know what he was doing, but
we heard that they were deported on the border of Moldova in Ukraine to lay railroad tracks as
you can see in here, and it was very, very hard work. If you take a look on the right-hand side, you
see an individual with a white shirt with a hammer. So the big boulders were brought to a certain
area and people with sledgehammers were breaking up these big boulders into rocks and then put
them across the area and then on that, they put ties. On top of the ties you put
the railroad tracks. Here we see individual soldiers looking around to make sure we are all
working. Also we see two horses and a buggy where we see a officer looks like they came to
inspect how the progress is going. So this is very, very hard work working 14, 16,
sometimes 18 hour day for very, very little food. Later on we found out that many of these
people died in this camp because of so hard work and so little, little food. >> Bill Benson: From your description, Nat, you have really showed us how much is actually going on
in that photo, and you think of the crushed rock that makes up a railroad bed and the fact
that these forced laborers like your father were forced to break up boulders into tiny little bits
of rock to form that track bed. That's extraordinary. And of course, at least in this photo,
they're completely exposed to the elements here. Nat, while your father was
away, did your mother hear from him? >> Nat Shaffir: We never heard from my father the entire period
of time that he was away. I remember my mother almost every night crying and praying to make
sure that my father returns healthy and alive. So that's how I used to go to sleep almost every
night, hearing my mother's crying voice. >> Bill Benson: Which meant probably that you weren't even certain that he
was alive. >> Nat Shaffir: We never knew that, and we never knew if we're ever going to see my father again. >> Bill Benson: With your father gone and the farmers no longer able to provide extra food, as your father
could no longer obviously go out and get the food, how did you, your sisters, and your mother
continue to manage, make ends meet, feed yourselves? >> Nat Shaffir: Well first, number one, from the rations that we
received for our own, then we had the extra rations that Dominu Grigore gave me, a ration card so we
had an extra loaf of bread and some more kerosene. So I would take that part of the bread, maybe
a quarter of a loaf of bread, maybe sometimes a half a bread, and try to trade that myself for
potatoes and something that we actually could have used a little bit more. So at this point be
able to have some variety. Now I used to go with my father to the area that we were trading on the
black market. I remember one time we had some eggs that we got from the
farmer, and my mother said to him, "Why don't you guys go out and get some potatoes?" Because
we hadn't had any potato soup in a long time. So my father and I went out, took three out
of the six eggs that we received from the farmers that day to trade for some potatoes. So we
reached the area and the first one person that we saw, the first question is asked, "What do you
have, and what do you want or what do you need?" So my father said, "We have three eggs
and we want to trade for potatoes." So the individual said, "I'll give you five potatoes
for these three eggs." And my father said, "Let me me think about it." We continue a little bit further.
We saw another individual and the same questions: "what do you have and what do you need?" So my father
said, "I want to trade three eggs for some potatoes." So that individual said, "I'll give you four potatoes
for these three eggs." And my father said, "Okay." Then walked away, and I said, "Papa, the first one
was going to give us five potatoes. Why did you take four?" He says, "That's true. Today we would
have gotten an extra potato, but that individual is not very honest person. So in the long run, he
probably would have cheated us. So always remember deal honestly and deal with honest people." And that
that carried me through my life a long, long time. >> Bill Benson: Nat, the the war ended for you when the Soviet
Army took control of Iași in the summer of 1944. What was it like for you, your mother, and your
sisters in that time leading up to your liberation? >> Nat Shaffir: The city was bombed almost every night beginning in
the middle of July to the beginning of August, and then increased very heavily every day between
the middle of August to the end of August, and end of August, we were liberated by the Russians. Once
we were liberated, again, we never heard from my father all these 14 months that he was
not there, we had a little bit more freedom, we had some more food, but life in Iași, in the ghetto
in particular, it was pretty much the same. We now lived under a communist rule which was
very antisemitic. We were able to go back to school but we were ridiculed by individuals
because we were Jews. Because the law in Romania is that if you don't pass a test from
one year to the next, you remain on that class. So since we were no longer able to go to school,
we missed all these two years of learning or two years of schooling, so many of us were six, seven,
eight, nine years old in first grade and second grade. So the Gentile children were making fun
of us saying, "These Jewish children must be dumb because look at him, he's 8 years old and he's first
grade." Anyway, we caught up after that. >> Bill Benson: Nat, let me take you back for a moment to the time of your
liberation. You said that bombs were dropped, you were under bombardment. How were
you able to find refuge while literally bombs are dropping around you and what
would you do to be safe, if anything? >> Nat Shaffir: Well our ghetto was an open ghetto. As
we know from history, there were closed ghettos and open ghettos. Our ghetto was open ghetto
which means the outside of the ghetto were fields. So whenever these bombs were dropping, we all
ran out to the fields and when the men were still around, especially the older men and the
below 18 were digging trenches and we would run out and stay in the trenches. So the people
who were bombing the city were not interested in bombing open fields, they were interested in bombing
houses. So we always run out to the open fields and stay in the trenches until, as I mentioned,
towards the end of August for three days in a row, day and night, we were bombed. So we were there without
food or any water. Luckily some young individuals would run out and try to figure out
how to bring back into these trenches some food and some water, and that kind of helped us a lot. >> Bill Benson: I can only imagine how terrifying that had to be for your mother seeking shelter in the open
literally, in trenches with three children with her. Nat, before the Soviets really
exercised control over the country, at what point did you think that you and your mother at least
felt were safe. We're safe, we've lived, we're safe. Was there a time when you had that feeling? >> Nat Shaffir: Right
away we felt safe because number one, we had more food. The Russian soldiers really embraced us,
or we embraced the Russian soldiers because they liberated us. So there was there was a good feeling
between the Russian soldiers and the community , especially if we got more food. So we thought we
were pretty safe at this point. >> Bill Benson: And how about your dad? When did your father return
to forced labor? Do you remember that? What was that like? >> Nat Shaffir: We reunited with my father sometime in the spring
of 1945 when he was liberated also by the Russians. And the week he came back, the day he came back,
he stayed with us in the ghetto still for about a week and then he said to me, "Nat, let's
go back and get the farm in order to bring the family back." Which we did. We started off walking
to the farm and then he said to me, "You know what, let's stop at that old farmer who helped us all these
weeks with that extra food and thank him properly." So we stopped at the old farmer and we wanted
to thank him, and he was very happy to see us. He invited us for a meal and after the meal he asked
us where we were going, and my father said, "We're going back to the farm." So he gave us the bad news
at this point. He said, "That farm no longer belongs to you. It was confiscated and was divided into
three sections. One of the sections was given to the priest and his family as a thank you
because he turned in all the Jews from the Bucium area to the authorities." But the farmer
also said, "It's very bad for you to go back and risk your life to go back to the farm." My father
took his advice and we never went back to the farm. So we came back and obviously we
never been back to the farm. >> Bill Benson: We have a question from Kasey. Kasey asks, "What
became of that priest?" and start there, and then I have another comment to share with you. What
happened to the priest then? >> Nat Shaffir: At this point, we don't know what happened to the priest because once the Communist regime came in, they became part of the communist
regime as well. So he and his family kept running that farm. But we never saw
him again, we never did want to see him again. So at this point we don't know what happened. >> Bill Benson: And we have a comment and a question from Breanna. Breanna says, "Thank you for speaking
about your experiences. We will not let the world forget." And then she asks, "How do you move past the
betrayal that you just described, or did you?" >> Nat Shaffir: First of all, let's say it's very hard, number one.
Number two, we can always see good in some people. Take the priest in one hand and the farmer on
the other. Why would one risk his life and help a couple of Jews and the other one's supposed
to be compassionate and helping people turn us in? Well, my father and I always used to ask
this question. What makes people do what they do? And then we realized the farmer did it because
he had it in his heart and the priest did it because for monetary value. What can he get
out of it? And that was the big difference. >> Bill Benson: Nat, now that you've gone back to the farm, you're not going to be able to return to it because of what you described, how did your
parents then make a living? They had a family to feed and themselves to support. How did they do that? >> Nat Shaffir: I remember when my father used to help the other farmers in the area in Bucium when there was a
drought, he always helped them with money for seed for the next crop, and so on, and they always
told him, "Look, we don't know when we can pay you back." My father always said, "Pay me back when you
have it." So after the war when we saw the farmer when we thanked him, later on told my
father, he says, "You know, if that will help you, I can give you 30 heads of cattle to start a little dairy farm." And my father said, "I don't know when I can pay
you back." He said, "Pay me back when you have it." So there it is, the same thing. So it pays to be nice to
people and pays to help people. And as you see in here, I don't know if anybody noticed, my
father just recently returned from the forced labor camp. Very, very skinny. So that was the first
how we saw him when he first came back. >> Bill Benson: Did he say much after he was
back about what he went through? >> Nat Shaffir: Not to us. But we didn't want to ask because
we saw on his face that's pretty much painful. I know he probably spoke to my mother what he went
through and not completely tell it exactly what happened because he went through a lot. Later
on in life, he spoke about it when he got older, so we spoke from time to time what he
went through, and he went through a lot. >> Bill Benson: As you mentioned a little while
ago, of course, once the Russians were in control, antisemitism continued. So under these
conditions, your parents decided to leave Romania, but it took them a good while. Why did it take, I
think, five years for you to get out of Romania? >> Nat Shaffir: First, I'm trying to figure
out, tell you what happened -- the rest of the family of both my
mother's and father's remained in Hungary. Can I talk a little bit about that? >> Bill Benson: Yes, please. >> Nat Shaffir: Okay. So we know from history that the Nazis invaded Hungary in
March of 1944. And they immediately started to deport people between April and July of
1944. They deported 440,000 Jews primarily to Auschwitz. Among these 440,000 Jews were 33
members of my extended family. My grandparents, my uncles, my aunts, my cousins. The young ones and
the old ones were immediately put to death in the gas chambers because they were no use to the
Germans for labor. Those young ones were able to work were sent from Auschwitz to different camps. The only three people we know the fate of was my grandfather and two of my uncles.
They stayed in one of the two camps of Auschwitz. My grandfather died of starvation one month before
he was liberated. Both my uncles were liberated. One was 21 years old and 22 years old.
Each one weighed 65 pounds, which is 30 kilograms. You can imagine what they looked like, like walking
skeletons. When the Red Cross came into these camps and they saw these people, the way they looked
like, they put them on ships and sent them to Sweden, which was a neutral country during the war, to
hospitals and to sanatoriums. Unfortunately, one of these two uncles did not make it to Sweden,
he died on the ship and he was buried at sea. And one did survive and did get to Sweden. He
stayed in Sweden for four years to gain his weight and his held back. So from 33 members of my
entire family, only one survived. That's my uncle, Uncle Lazar. So he was the only survivor out of
the people who lived in Hungary at the time. >> Bill Benson: And I think this photograph is from -- was this from
after those four years? >> Nat Shaffir: That was in Sweden, right, and he actually sent a postcard. He sent
it to us later on and that's how -- it was his picture and that kind of postcard
and he wrote on the back of the postcard. >> Bill Benson: Earlier in the program, Nat, we saw a
photograph of you with your Aunt Chanah. Will you tell us what happened to Aunt Chanah? >> Nat Shaffir: Aunt Chanah was deported the same way like Uncle Lazar did, probably towards the end of April,
maybe the beginning of May. We don't know exactly. So she was in one of the cattle
cars before my Uncle Lazar was, so when she came off the car, she was sent to the right in
the selection process. She was sent to the right to be able to be sent to a forced labor
camp. And the other people who were not able to work outside the cattle cars, they would [...],
they were immediately put to death as well. So she loved children like my mother did, and when she was
walking on that line to the right, she saw a little child on the on the ground crying his head off.
She felt bad for that child. She picked him up and she cuddled him, and then she went back
to the line to go to the right. The Nazi who was directing that traffic says, "You're not going
back there, you're going to the left." So about an hour and a half later, she and that little
boy were put in the gas chamber and were dead. >> Bill Benson: And that was the result of her trying
to comfort this crying child. >> Nat Shaffir: Correct. And we didn't know anything about it until Uncle Lazar told
us, because he was pretty much behind her and he saw everything that went on, and obviously
he couldn't do anything to help. >> Bill Benson: Nat, we have a question submitted from Instagram,
and it is, "What are some ways in your everyday life that you honor your relatives and their memories?" >> Nat Shaffir: Number one, most of our children are named
after those who were murdered by the Nazis, so that's one way we honor them. And we
always remember once a year in particular, we keep their memory alive and
that's how we remember. You asked me a question earlier about what took you so
long. Can you ask the question again? >> Bill Benson: Yes. Your family wanted to leave
Romania but it took a good while before you did. >> Nat Shaffir: So we stayed in Romania for another
two years and then in 1947, my father realized there's no longer a future for Jewish people
in Romania anymore, so we decided to leave. We found out that Palestine is open
for refugees or Jewish refugees from the Eastern Bloc countries, so we filed a visa request to
leave Romania for Palestine. A few months later we received a reply with a big stamp on that, "Form
Denied." So we were denied exit. We kept filing the same thing, the same request over and over,
and then finally, my mother was able to bribe the chief of police and we were able to get the exit
visa from Romania. And we went not to Palestine because it was not Palestine anymore it was
Israel, and we arrived in Israel in April of 1950. And after serving three years in the Israeli
Army, finally came to the United States to visit my Uncle Lazar who actually sponsored me to come here. >> Bill Benson: Lazar, the same that we just saw a few moments ago. I wish we had time for you
to tell us about your life after the war once you moved to Israel. We don't, unfortunately, but
I do want to ask you this. You really took your father's advice, never give up, to heart. Tell
us how that has served you throughout your life. >> Nat Shaffir: In life we all have good
times and bad times. We experience bad situations and do the best we can get. One situation came
that I ran 12 marathons between age 65 and 81. After that I realized I need some challenging, so
I decided that I want to climb a mountain. The only thing is, I needed to figure out which mountain I want
to climb. So I finally settled on Mount Kilimanjaro. And we're climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, the first six days everything was okay. The seventh day, we start the climb at 11:00PM to reach the summit at sunrise the next day. So
about six hours later I pretty much was completely exhausted. It was dark, windy, freezing cold. Snow
blowing every directions. I was completely depleted of all energy, didn't have any energy, even
an ounce. So I pretty much decided, "I'm done, I'm never gonna reach the mountain top." But then all of
a sudden I heard my father said, "Nat, never give up." And at that moment I got all that energy and I
knew I'm gonna make that summit. And two hours later, I was standing on the tallest single unit
mountain in the world, watching the sun come up, most beautiful sun that I've ever seen in my life. >> Bill Benson: This is 2019? >> Nat Shaffir: Also, by the way, at a height of 19,341 feet above the clouds. >> Bill Benson: Almost 20,000 feet. Age
83 in 2019. Thanks, Nat. I have just one more question for you today. As we face rising
antisemitism, related conspiracy theories, and Holocaust denial, please tell us what we can learn
from what you experienced during the Holocaust. >> Nat Shaffir: Many powerful people and many powerful nations kept silent about the atrocities and the genocide committed by the Nazis during the Holocaust. Now
we saw what happened and we saw what the outcome was. We cannot remain silent anymore, we must speak
out. Not only must we speak out, we must take sides. We can't take sides with the bad people over the
good people, always take sides with the good people. And what happened, by the way, you cannot
stay neutral either. You gotta take a point, you gotta take sides, so what we do, because
remaining neutral actually benefits the perpetrator not the victims.
So keep speaking out, and when you see something, hate or antisemitism, speak
out and make that voice heard. >> Bill Benson: Nat, thank you so much for being with us
today for being our First Person. I think you have successfully spent your lifetime
climbing mountains, both figuratively and and literally, and running marathons to boot,
never giving up. Thank you, Nat, so much for today. >> Nat Shaffir: Thank you very much for listening. >> Bill Benson: I'd like to take a moment to thank our donor. First Person is made possible through the generous
support of the Louis Franklin Smith Foundation. And I'd also like to invite you to join us again
on Wednesday, September 20th at 1:00PM Eastern Time for a conversation with Holocaust survivor and
Museum volunteer, Josiane Traum. Josie was just three years old when she was separated
from her mother and placed into hiding in Belgium with the help of the resistance.
Tune in to hear her reflect on her survival at such a young age. Thank you all for watching
today's First Person program with Nat Shaffir.
