Tisha B’av: I Remember Buyana (Буяни)

The forest was thick and full of overgrowth. I could see we were approaching some sort of concrete monument.  Upon reaching the structure, we saw a large Soviet style obelisk, made of substandard and decrepit Soviet concrete with a red communist star hoisted atop.

On Friday, August 1, 1941, the Jews of the ghetto in Torchin were instructed to assemble at the town square the next day which was their Sabbath (Shabbos).  On that Saturday, August 2, 1941, the Nazis, with their collaborators, the Ukrainian Bandistas and Sonderdiensters, selected 300 “volunteers”.  They then started marching to a place where they were told their services would be required.

They marched to the next village, Buyany (Буяни).  They walked deep in the forest, were instructed to dig a huge pit and were shot.  Included in that atrocity were two of my aunts, my Father’s sisters, Faige and Soroh Sprinzer Chapnick.

I proceeded to say Mourner’s Kaddish and the El Moleh Rachamim (Prayer for the Departed) for them.  I made sure to chant it loud enough so the peasants at the distance could hear the prayer and feel my tears.

The Soviet signage at the sight made no mention of the Jews. Instead, it said 200+ communists were mass murdered at this location.  They were part right.  Five people from this ensemble were communist and not Jewish.

It is of no coincidence that the atrocity took place on Tisha B’Av3, the most tragic and saddest day of the Jewish year.  A day that both the first and second temples were destroyed.  World War I also broke out on Tisha B’Av, plus the mass deportation started at the Warsaw Ghetto, and the Nazis committed the murder of Jews in thousands of shtetls across Eastern Europe on this tragic day. The Nazis were purposeful in planning these atrocities on that day, including Buyana.

August 2016, a subfreezing snowy day: The ground is thick with snow.  I owed it to my relatives and deceased ancestors to check on the mass grave in Torchin, the mass grave in Buyana, and the former site of the 400-year-old Jewish cemetery where the headstones are so eroded and underground. Too much time has elapsed, and I made a vow to visit and check up on them every ten years.

My driver did not know the location of the site. He asked an elderly man, who unexpectedly proceeded by entering the car, and took us to the Torchin Museum, a large dark room located on the second floor in an old building. After briefly viewing the museum, the curator of the museum, the elderly gentleman, the driver and I crammed into the car on the way to the neighboring town, Buyany (Буяни) the site of the first liquidation.

I was expecting to again see the original old Soviet Style monolith.  Instead, two of the three carpool mates who accompanied me, ran in the snow, and crossed themselves before the monument. The original monument was removed and replaced with a big Cross.

My initial response upon viewing this Cross in Ukraine was outrage. I pointed to the ground and yelled “Yeverei! Yeverei! (Russian for Jew) to my kind hosts who took time from their schedules. They responded back (my driver, Bogdain, was outstanding and served as my translator despite his limited knowledge of English) by telling me that Ukrainians were murdered there, and they consider all who were murdered to be Ukrainians.

I stopped arguing with my hosts. Why should I? To what end? I did not say that even though the area was Poland at the time, the Ukrainian Sonderdiensts and Banderists did not consider their victims to be Ukrainians. Nor did I tell them the mass killing took place on August 2, 1941 which not only coincided with the Jewish Sabbath but also with the fast day of Tisha B’Av.

My driver and I returned to Lutsk, the capital of the province which was nineteen kilometers away. I met with the director of the Jewish community. We spoke of many things, but the most concerning to me was the Buyany memorial. He told me that Buyany is not unique in this, but such memorials are being erected in similar sites throughout Ukraine with crosses. Unfortunately, he continued, the survivors are no more.

To his surprise I told him my mother is 93 years old, the last remaining survivor, and she still has an ironclad mind. We called her and she spoke of what she witnessed. He asked her to write out her testimony, which she did when I arrived back home4. He said the best they can do, if at all, is erect a plaque stating that 205 of the 210 victims were Jewish.

When I returned home, I contacted my long-time lantzman5, Eduard, Director of the Ukrainian Jewish Committee, and gave him a report. Eduard grew up in that area and has a special affinity to it. His father was the first Director of the Jewish Community of Lutsk after modern day Ukrainian Independence in 1991.

I did a lot of research the year after I returned. The burning question was why the Ukrainians were doing this. Without getting into detail, this was the only way Ukrainians knew how to memorialize someone. Whereas, in the United States committees would be held discussing the type of memorials, to the Ukrainians, the cross was their default way of remembering.

In 2018, I discussed this issue at a conference in Czernowitz, Ukraine, with the director of UJE (Ukraine-Jewish Encounter).  There was some follow up, but to my knowledge no results.

Here we are, approaching Tisha B’Av 2024.  My Mother passed away a year ago (two days before Tisha B’Av).  We Jews have developed a 3000 year old method in dealing with both our rich and tragic history.  In fact, we are commanded and obligated to do this.  The power of “Zachor (Remembering)” is an active and powerful obligation (mitzvah).  We are required to remember and absorb events of Jewish history as if we were personally there.

Now you are there! Zachor!!!!