“It was around the time of the first world war,” she began, “when a group of evil bandits came to town. Pogroms were quite common in Zaporozhe, Ukraine during those years. When they entered the synagogue, they found an old, pious-looking man deep in prayer. They grabbed him by his beard and dragged him through the streets of the town.”

“Four days later, he died from the wounds. His family was frightened. They heard that it was easier for Jews to live in Rostov, so they packed their bags and left."

“The old man was my grandfather, Merel Berel."

"A few years later, in 1926, I was born. They named me Miriam Baila, in his memory.”

Credit: Yanky Ascher | Souls on the Don