The Yad Mordechai Museum owes a special debt to Simcha "Kazik" Rotem, who passed away on Saturday. When the museum began updating its exhibits a decade ago, Kazik met with museum representatives to explain how to build a replica of a bunker so it would look as real as possible. Thanks to him, thousands of youngsters each year study the inspiring story of the Warsaw Ghetto partisans, including Kazik's own story.
When Kazik visited the new exhibit, he said, "Get these benches out of here – do you want them to think we had benches?" The museum staff tried to placate him, to explain that groups including the elderly would be visiting, and they could not sit on the floor. But Kazik, then over 80, insisted that there was no need for benches.
Rotem's story is unusual by any criteria. Even among the inherently young fighters in the ZOB, the Jewish Fighting Organization, Rotem was among the youngest. At the end of the uprising, he was in charge of helping the remaining partisans escape the ghetto via the sewer system, guiding them into the streets of Warsaw and into hiding, all in broad daylight.
At the last minute, standing in the middle of Nazi-occupied Warsaw, Kazik decided they needed to set off immediately, because they were at risk of being caught, even though another group of partisans was still waiting in the sewers. For the rest of his life, Rotem would question whether he had made the right decision, but he knew he had no choice. He demonstrated unusual courage and resourcefulness. Once in Israel, he married and had children, worked as a supermarket manager, and in 1985 published his book "Memoirs of a Warsaw Ghetto Fighter."
Last March, we held a symposium on the activity of the Warsaw Ghetto partisans after the war. We already knew Kazik would not be able to speak. The travel was already difficult for him, and he was wary of crowded events. Nevertheless, we asked to visit him in Jerusalem so he could give us an insight or a story. We were lucky, and he wanted us to come.
A meeting with a living legend can be disappointing, because people do not always live up to expectations.
But that wasn't the case with Kazik. Even though he was hard of hearing, he delved into his memories, the dilemmas, his relationships with other partisan leaders. When we asked, he also told us about his children and his indecision as a young parent about what to tell them and what not to tell them, and when he finally found out that they already knew everything.
His eyes lit up when we went outside. As we walked around the courtyard, we could see the energy and wicked humor for which he was famous. As he led us, his steps seem to grow lighter as he told us the names of the different flowers and explained how to grow them, and bemoaned the once-flourishing greenhouse that he no longer had the strength to cultivate by himself.
When we learned of his passing, we felt the sadness for a man who was so special, the last who could tell the story of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising firsthand. But we were also happy we had been privileged to meet him.
Now that he is gone, we have more of an obligation than ever to tell his story, along with the story of the rest of the Warsaw Ghetto partisans. They will continue to inspire generations to come about the strength of the human spirit, even in the worst situations.
