Finding Peace Is My Revenge

By Irene Ceder Rogers

Irenes experience, motivation and ambition empowered her to write this book. For many years Irene dreamed of finding her parents and little sisters burial place in Andijan, Uzbekistan. Finally, in 1998 as members of an Elder Treks tour, she and her husband undertook a fantastic adventure traveling challenging roads into regions rarely explored by Westerners. They traveled the ancient Silk Road on the Karakoram Highway, the highest paved road in the world, through Pakistan, Kyrgyztan and northwest China before eventually arriving in Uzbekistan. As a child in Uzbekistan,Irene lived in hardship despite the help of friendly Uzbek Muslims, herreturnas an adult, wife, mother and grandmothercontinued her efforts toresolve her feelings about those years and to dedicate herself to the memories of her Mother, Father and Sister.
Irenes strength is her survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jul 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504357814

Irene Ceder Rogers

Born in Warsaw, Poland, Irene and her family in 1939-40 escaped from the Nazi Regime to Soviet Ukraine later to Andijan Uzbekistan. In Irene’s chronicles is her story of growing up during the struggles that she faced along the way, and beyond. Irene tragically lost her parents and little sister. A teenager sister saves her from illness. Spent several years in orphanages in Uzbekistan and back in Poland. Eventually she immigrated to Israel, and studied nursing while in the army. In 1959, she traveled on a Nurses Association Exchange Visa to New York where she worked as a surgical nurse in the operating room. She got married, moves away from New York, to Berea Ohio, and finally settling in Northbrook, Illinois. She is blessed with four children and nine grandchildren. Irene’s wish is peace and justice. She dedicates her life to that goal.

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Copyright © 2016 Irene Rogers.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5780-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5782-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5781-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016907643

Balboa Press rev. date: 08/27/2016

Contents

Acknowledgments

Preface

Chapter 1    Start of a Journey

Chapter 2    The Initial Plan

Chapter 3    A Visit to Olga

Chapter 4    Evaluating the Trip

Chapter 5    Six Years Later (1998)

Chapter 6    Preparations

Chapter 7    Additional Information

Chapter 8    The Scenery

Chapter 9    Mother’s Day and Good-Bye Party

Chapter 10    London, England

Chapter 11    Pakistan

Chapter 12    Feisal Mosque and Irene’s Surprise

Chapter 13    Grand Trunk Road to Taxila

Chapter 14    Peshawar and Khyber Pass

Chapter 15    Swat Valley

Chapter 16    Gilgit

Chapter 17    Hunza Valley, Paradise

Chapter 18    China

Chapter 19    Tashkurgan

Chapter 20    Kashgar, China

Chapter 21    Kyrgyzstan

Chapter 22    Uzbekistan-Tashkent-Khiva-Bukhara-Samarkand

Chapter 23    Bukhara

Chapter 24    Samarkand

Chapter 25    Andijan and Pahtaabad Region

Chapter 26    Host Family

Chapter 27    Cemetery

Chapter 28    Searching

Chapter 29    Back in the Cemetery

Chapter 30    Hospitality Everywhere

Chapter 31    Journalist

Chapter 32    Origins

Chapter 33    Return to Warsaw

Chapter 34    Time to Go

Chapter 35    Trying Again to Escape

Chapter 36    Soviet Union

Chapter 37    Evacuation

Chapter 38    Andijan

Chapter 39    Saving My Life

Chapter 40    Orphanage in Andijan

Chapter 41    Life at the Orphanage

Chapter 42    Family

Chapter 43    Returning Home

Chapter 44    From Uzbekistan to Poland

Chapter 45    Pola Waver

Chapter 46    Life with Structure

Chapter 47    Extracurricular Activities

Chapter 48    Hania’s Story

Chapter 49    Escape from the Orphanage

Chapter 50    Mendel

Chapter 51    Waiting

Chapter 52    Declaration

Chapter 53    Reunited

Chapter 54    Mordechai’s Story

Chapter 55    Kibbutz

Chapter 56    Army and Nursing School

Chapter 57    Nursing

Chapter 58    After Graduation

Chapter 59    USA Bound

Chapter 60    Ohio and Back

Chapter 61    Gerald

Chapter 62    Wedding

Chapter 63    Married Life

Chapter 64    Irene and the Babies

Chapter 65    A Return to Family in Israel

Chapter 66    Back in New York

Chapter 67    Ohio and Illinois

Chapter 68    Television

Chapter 69    Conflicted

Chapter 70    Growing Up

Chapter 71    Drug Prevention

Chapter 72    Volunteering and Tolerance

Chapter 73    Reunion

Chapter 74    Berlin and Friends

Chapter 75    Poland

Chapter 76    Czechoslovakia

Chapter 77    Meeting My Siblings

Chapter 78    Letter from Poland

Chapter 79    My Nine Grandchildren

Chapter 80    My Bat Mitzvah

Chapter 81    Jewish Child Survivors of the Holocaust Conference

Chapter 82    Surprise from Uzbekistan

Chapter 83    Whitwell Youth and Teachers

Chapter 84    My Big Sister, My Protector

Epilogue

A Brief History of Israel

To my Mother Miriam, Father Issachar, and Sister Hana, all of died tragically on foreign soil during the Holocaust.

To my sister Sarah, who kept me alive when she herself was deprived of food.

To my brother Mordechai, who was lost to us for eight years and survived.

To the million and a half children who suffered emotional and bodily harm or perished at the hands of the Nazis.

Finally, I dedicate this book to my dear living relatives: my husband Gerald, my four children and their spouses, and my nine grandchildren: Kyle, Adam, Brett, Ellie, Nathan, Ruby, Carly, Emily, and Sophia.

Acknowledgments

R ECOGNITION GOES TO INDIVIDUALS WHO empowered me to write this book, provided information and gave me support.

My dear friend, partner, and husband Gerald gave support and patience all the way.

To Gary Murtagh, the owner of Elder Treks Travel Agency. Without him, it would be only half a book. He offered support and ran the most efficient and interesting trip.

To Israel Science and Technology, home page written by Israel Hanukoglu, Ph.D. editor of the Israel history.

Chiropractor, Dr Joe Hanson aided with a title of the book.

Agnieszka in Poland helped with communication

Rabbi Jack Riemer and Rabbi Sylvan D. Kamens for their poem.

The Danilova family, for their hospitality in Andijan Uzbekistan.

Friends from the Polish Jewish orphanage in Uzbekistan- Soviet Union: Sarah Weinroch, Genia Cantker and Genia Mendiuk.

Polish orphanage in Bielsko: Director Pola Waver and Dr Maria Waver

Fela Kokotek and Max Baron

Genia Fichtelberg

Benek Brown, Mendel Sokiranski and granddaughter Dalila Berneburg in Germany.

From the school of nursing, Cora Coorkanian.

My friends and relatives in United States:

Anje Shein for a great support. Terri Jawgiel and Sandy Lieberman encouraging me to write.

To the bridge group for support. Ruth Erwin Danz, Sonia Bob Weiner and Marilyn Ron Simon.

My relatives:

Daughter Erica Swerdlow

Public Relations.

Executive vice president Burson- Marsteller

Son Mitchell Rogers Visual Designs for Marching Bands and Drum Corps

Son Dan Rogers Entrepreneur involved in business startup

Son Jesse Rogers Sports Media ESPN

Renee Rogers provided her life story during the Holocaust.

Grandson Brett taught me the basics of computer technology.

Grandsons: Nate, Adam, and Kyle, offered their support in computer technology.

To our granddaughters

To Ellie for her poem

To Ruby and Carly for correcting grammar

To Emily for scanning pictures

Sophia for being a cute baby.

Adult children—Mitchell Jennifer, Erica, Daniel, and Jesse, Rogers—without them, only half the story would be printed.

To my cousins: Lilly Leon Klein and Rose Erwin Klein for their hospitality and care.

My cousins: Mendel Renia Ceder, and daughter Rosa – Shoshana.

Brother Mordechai provided me with information.

My sister for being with me in good times and in critical times, without her care: I would not be here to write this story.

Preface

O NE OF MY GOALS IN writing this book was to share my life story as accurately as possible, covering both the happy and sad adventures. At the same time, I would like to educate my readers about the atrocities of war and the glory of peace. I want to introduce all of you to the wonders of nature and the beautiful people we met in Central Asia and around the world.

Since 1990, I have taken trips to Europe, Central Asia, and the Middle East, therefore I collected information on my life and the regions, relying on my memory as a child, as a teenager, and as an adult. In addition to my private collection of pictures and documents, in 1988–89, I recorded the voices of my dear sister Sarah, brother Mordechai, cousin Mendel, his wife Renia, and the friends who lived with me in two orphanages from 1941-1950. On the trip that features prominently in this book, my husband Gerald recorded a DVD of the Silk Road, and I made notes in my journal. I have taken the liberty of mentioning some brief historical events and heroes of the countries in which I lived and visited to explain better the suffering of my family and examples of genocide of the Jewish people.

I do not mean to attach blame to any individual institution but rather to society as whole because it accepted such atrocities. I mention the origins of the scapegoating of the Jews, which came from certain institutions; for me, it still is incomprehensible. I do not believe that World War II taught the lesson of how to reach out and achieve peace. Genocide, anti-Semitism, prejudice, and the persecution of religion by religious zealots are present in many countries, especially in the Middle East, Central Asia, and Europe, and it continues to spread around the world.

Daniel Goldhagen authored a book, Worse than War, and made a documentary film. Mr. Goldhagen believes that we must preempt the evildoers/dictators of nations who contemplate massacres and genocide. One would expect the United Nations (UN) and the leaders of a free, peaceful, democratic world to initiate this important project and for ordinary people to follow.

He who saves one single life is as if he saves an entire world. The countries that protected the Jews and the individuals who supplied food to the Jewish victims of the Nazi perpetrators are the righteous people. During World War II, a number of righteous people were victims and sometimes faced executions. They are too numerous to name, but there were not enough of those who cherished human life.

Who destroys a life … is as if he destroys an entire universe. While writing this book, I heard on the radio about the capture of the criminal mastermind of 9/11. I mention this because—of all the places in the world—the raid to capture this criminal happened in Islamabad, where I had the chance to visit. It was weird for me to reconcile that it happened in a place where we met such hospitable people.

I do not like to mention his name; he is no celebrity to me. In this case, he had nothing to offer the world except a militant, religious mantra of intolerance, preaching hatred, suicide bombers, and destruction, which forbid democracy and freedom for women and humanity at large. Some ideologies celebrate death; instead, why not celebrate life? They need to be isolated.

I am proud of my Jewish culture; we celebrate life. The world always was complicated before, but perhaps it grows more so, especially in Central Asia, the Middle East, and Europe.

He who denies the Holocaust is asking

for a Holocaust in his own country.

Irene Ceder Rogers

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Chapter 1

Start of a Journey

I T WAS 1998, AND WE were on the Silk Road, Karakoram Highway. I was afraid … no, it was more than fear. I was terrified. The rushing mountain stream was roaring over the road, not through the culverts under the road, and our bus sat on the edge of a narrow mountain ledge. My imagination was running wild about the imminent danger, and it continued to do so until our driver managed to back up and turn around. Our group of sixteen tourists, including me, wanted badly to return to Islamabad, Pakistan, from where we had departed.

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We were traveling with Elder Treks, a Canadian international tour company. It was frightening to have our bus perched precariously on the shelf of the road along the Karakoram Highway (KKH), somewhere below the highway’s sixteen-thousand-foot highest point, called Khunjerab Pass. Gerald’s multifaceted Tissot watch showed us to be at 14,400 feet; it could have been one hundred feet, and I still would have been terrified with the water rushing past us. Gerald was obsessed with taking a trip that resulted in a bundle of nerves for me. Starting from Chicago, the distance would be around eight thousand miles on KKH before crossing Khunjerab Pass into Kashgar, China.

In spite of my fearfulness that day, I learned a lesson: either you forget or suppress fear, or it will impede your ability to move forward. In these pages, I will talk about another fearful time in my life. I was in Warsaw, the capital of Poland, when the Nazis’ bombs were falling.

With your patience, I will tell you two stories for the price of one book. One story will take you to Poland, the Soviet Union, Russia, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Israel, the Bronx, and Northbrook, Illinois. The other story concerns my travel, my family, my activism on behalf of Israel and America, and the many people from all over the world who have been a part of this journey.

We start at the Silk Road, but the next two chapters are a description of the planning of an ambitious trip.

Chapter 2

The Initial Plan

O UR INITIAL PLAN WAS TO travel to Europe and Central Asia. It was 1992, and we planned to travel only if we could find a suitable travel agency. If not, we would give up the trip; there was enough economic and political instability in the countries to which I wanted to travel it raised concern.

My story begins on January 15, 1991, when I expressed to Gerald and my son Mitchell my wish to travel to the places where I lived as a young child during World War II. I wanted to take the escape route my family took from Warsaw, Poland, to the Soviet Union, Ukraine, Central Asia, and back to Poland. My goal was to try to find my parents’ and baby sister’s graves in Andijan, Uzbekistan, where we had fled after Germany attacked the Soviet Union, Ukraine, and the city of Simferopol.

Mitchell, an avid traveler and nature lover, immediately took an interest in our plan. I was lucky to have him around since he just had spent a year backpacking and trekking through China, Pakistan, and India. He had faced new cultures, different foods, and a variety of political upheavals, but he said that, in spite of all the problems he encountered, it had been a glorious trip. The only incentive to come home was to attend his sister’s wedding. Honestly, with his experience, I would have felt more secure if he had traveled with us. It was eight thousand miles from Chicago to Uzbekistan, and I was amazed that our thirty-year-old son wanted to be part of the adventure with his parents. Unfortunately, that would not happen.

My husband’s plan was to travel on the Silk Road, the KKH that links Pakistan and China, which is the highest paved road in the world between any two countries. Eventually we would reach Osh, Kyrgyzstan, which was possibly the place where my father had died.

We needed more information, so the three of us attended the Chicago Adventure Travel Show. We discussed plans with a Russian travel agent who worked with Geosoft, an Austrian and Swedish joint venture with the Russian Federation in Moscow. The director was Sergey. His American partner was Bill Caciollfi, president of World Ohio Expedition. The travel shows gave us more information for this and future trips. We were looking for the best travel condition to begin our trip from Chicago to the Russian cities of St. Petersburg and Moscow, and then to Ukraine—specifically the city of Simferopol, where I had lived during World War II. We wanted to continue to the city of Andijan, Uzbekistan, and then cross over to the city of Osh, Kyrgyzstan. On the way back, we wanted to travel through Kashgar in China, the KKH, Islamabad in Pakistan, and then home to the United States.

I was not familiar with the history of the Silk Road, but it sounded exotic, and I was excited to go. I was ready to go anywhere in order to reach my destinations: Simferopol and then the Pachtaabad farm in Andijan, Uzbekistan, which was the route by which my family escaped Nazi Germany.

The political upheaval in the Soviet Union between 1989 and 1991 had created much instability. At the time, numerous Central Asian republics had seceded from the Soviet Union, including Uzbekistan, and their political-economic system was suffering. Tearing down the Berlin Wall had created much uncertainty and confusion. There were many unknowns. If the last part of the trip proved to be politically impossible, we would return immediately to the United States. I decided that if all of the parties could agree, nothing would stop us from going. I would overcome my fear.

The proposed departure was on Labor Day weekend, September 8, 1992. With that date in our plans, we had to get in touch with guides and give them the projected itinerary. We also received a list of contacts who would help us arrange for places to stay when we arrived: Leonid and Igor in Uzbekistan and Rafael in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. In addition, we would have to call on Jewish agencies to help find additional contacts for refugees; maybe some had remained in Andijan, Uzbekistan, and Osh, Kyrgyzstan after the war.

I got in touch with Mr. Zelen from the Jewish United Fund (JUF), a fund-raising organization in Chicago that assists many agencies. They provide critical help for needy people, such as resources, food, refugee education, and home visits. I was hopeful that this institution would know of refugees from Uzbekistan, but the JUF directed us to the Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC or Joint). These agencies were established in 1914 and are active in seventy countries.

Their mission is to provide aid all over the world. In addition, they provide guidance to Jewish communities. They have a history of offering clothing, food, and funds to refugees during World War II. Their second important task is the unification of families scattered by war, and they offer the same for both present and future emigrants from Europe to Israel. I contacted an official named Scott to request contacts in Andijan, Uzbekistan. I was thrilled to hear that they had an office and representatives in Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan. Most of all, I was happy to hear from them about a family living in Ohio, whose members had emigrated from Andijan, Uzbekistan.

Chapter 3

A Visit to Olga

JOINT REFERRED ME TO OLGA; they all were refugees born in Andijan, Uzbekistan. They had been in the United States for eight months, living in Euclid, Ohio. In Andijan, they had lived among Jews, Russians, and Uzbek Muslims.

Olga and her husband were teachers, and as soon it was permissible in Andijan, Olga and her parents initiated a restaurant business. After the restaurant was up and running, the environment quickly filled with prejudice.

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Rioters against Jews and Armenians burned down the restaurant inside. Rumor had it that the rioters—militants—had burned the cafe down because the Jews and Armenians were rich. Olga’s family knew better; it was all about prejudice directed against non-Uzbek minorities. The political situation was unstable. The Russians were leaving, and the new Uzbek government probably had not formed at that point.

Olga and her family had to leave Andijan by force. A new Uzbek government was forming, and it created a lot of confusion. Uzbekistan seceded from the Soviet Union, and things were unstable. Olga’s parents, husband, and two children could recognize the warning signs, and the family members, with the help of Joint, decided to immigrate to the United States. Here, the federal government granted them asylum visas, and they settled in Ohio.

I contacted Olga by phone and mail, informing her about our plans to talk with her; instead, she invited us to their home. We drove from Illinois to Ohio for six hours, and we arrived at a modest house. The minute we entered the house, I noticed the kitchen and the round table where a family could sit, eat, and have a warm conversation. We sat in that kitchen the entire weekend.

Olga spoke excellent English, which helped Gerald. Otherwise, we would have kept translating to him from Russian to English. I had not spoken Russian for fifty-two years, but I could communicate, albeit with some difficulties. Olga was an English teacher and translator in Andijan, Uzbekistan. In the United States, she did the same for Russian refugees. Her husband had been a sports coach in the Soviet Union.

We were very fortunate to find this warm, wonderful family; they all were hospitable, informative, and helpful. It was as if we were old friends. For two full days, we did not leave the kitchen table. Olga was a gourmet cook, and the food was scrumptious. She served one meal after another with home-baked desserts. We could not stop eating, laughing, and telling jokes. This family gave me an exciting, exuberant feeling, and it strengthened my resolve to go on our trip to Uzbekistan. The conversation continued into the night. We wanted to stay in a hotel, but they insisted we stay in their home the entire weekend.

During our conversations, I started to drift away in my thoughts, and a sort of hypnosis took over. Years ago, the company that Gerald worked for had promoted him, and we had to transfer from New York to Ohio. I started to daydream about how in 1965–70 we had lived in the city of Berea, a small university town and a suburb of Cleveland. Gerald’s parents moved to Florida, and it was easier for us to transfer to our new city.

At that time, we already had two small children; Mitchell was two-and-a-half years old, and Erica was only six months old. We had thought that when the children grew up, they could go to Baldwin Wallace College in Berea and live at home. It was a way of life for us. We had old-fashioned ideas, and I did not think anything was wrong with that. Presently, individuals work hard to pay enormous fees for a college education for their children, some of whom may not take it seriously.

I had lived in different places through my childhood and adult life, and I did not mind moving again. My first place of residence in America was Bronx, New York. I joined Gerald to look for a place of residence, and we found property in a very nice young community. My desire was to live in a Jewish or ethnically diverse neighborhood, but more importantly, I needed there to be no anti-Semitism.

Gerald flew for the second time to Ohio, and I stayed home with the children.

At a low cost and with help of an architect, Gerald designed and supervised the building of our home. Gerald and I never had owned or lived in a house before moving to Berea. I would be seeing the house for the first time when we moved there. I was pleasantly surprised with the interior of the house, and as long I was with my husband and children, everything was perfect, and I was happy.

Gerald’s parents lived in a two-bedroom apartment, and he shared a room with his brother, David, who was five years younger. If you sat at their parents’ kitchen table, you could reach the refrigerator, stove, and the sink in the same stretch. You can imagine the size of the kitchen: not many steps to cook and serve dinner. They were a happy family and did not think too much of having more.

I was oblivious to our house, no matter how elegant it was. In my mind, I just wanted a decent place. I do not think I would have enjoyed running from store to store, choosing building materials. I was happy to own something because I had never owned anything in my life. On the day of my arrival, I opened the front door of the house. To my astonishment, I felt I was in a castle. I actually screamed, This is a palace for a queen! Wow! It cannot be. I screamed again, Gerald, you did a magnificent job. Four spacious bedrooms, a kitchen, an extended family room with a see-through fireplace, a living room, and the most important: a big recreation room facing the big backyard? I am overjoyed.

We settled in with the little we possessed. It was appalling to me to see several bedrooms for two children, but soon Daniel was born, and four years later, we had Jesse. How lucky can you get? Did we do that unconsciously to fill the house with children? I wanted as many children as I could have, as I believe a full house is a happy house. We also believed that two children should share a bedroom with two beds for comradeship.

Suddenly, I snapped out of daydreaming and realized I was still in Olga’s home, sitting at the table. I wondered how they perceived me when they had seen my blank face. I did not dare to ask. They were talking a lot with Gerald. I hope they did not notice me falling out of the conversation. The conversation with the family continued; we shared ideas and sang old-fashioned Russian songs. Finally, on Sunday it was time to go. We expressed our gratitude for their extended hospitality, snapped some pictures, and left.

Olga never gave us any contacts in Andijan, but that was because most of her friends had left their village to emigrate to other countries. However, I learned a lot about present Uzbekistan, which contributed greatly to some very difficult