Refusal
And finally, we received the long-awaited invitation.
And then an obstacle arose, which we stumbled upon not quite unexpectedly - we assumed that it might arise.
Nina Zakharovna refused to sign the document that Uvir (The office that was in charge of the permissions to leave Russia) demanded: the parent's Waiver of property claims and other claims.
Moreover, she wrote and notarized the statement that she has material and moral claims.
By that time, I had already learned Hebrew and began to teach Torah. We somehow entered the circle of "refuseniks". And, it should be noted, I was kicked out of work (Luba stopped working with the birth of her daughter).
The reason was that I started walking around in a cap, i.e. with my head covered, and when I came this way to a meeting of the department. And that's it, that was the end of my work.
Thus, from the point of view of the authorities, we were extremely untrustworthy people, violating the law prohibiting parasitism (in Russia everyone had to work).
Therefore, it was better for us to declare our intentions to leave the country officially, so that the State Security Service, which, of course, was aware of all our affairs, would not have suspicions that we are dissidents and want to change the order within the country.
So the opportunity to submit documents to Uvir made us happy. And you never know what - maybe they want to get rid of us and let us go.
Submission of documents has become a whole epic. Nina Zakharovna managed to visit our district police station and talk with the head of the district of Uvir, somebody whose name was Afonin.
I told Luba that we would go to apply to the Uvir at her place of residence, to the Beskudnikovo police station - where nobody knew us.
We prepaired all the papers. I said to Luba: "Let's take our typewriter". We had a typewriter that was called "a semi-portable machine" - black, shiny with a white Rheinmetall inscription. Luba usedthis typewriterfor copying poems of Mandelstam and Anna Akhmatova. Later, Luba recalled that she could not understand why I so insisted that we take a typewriter with us. But she agreed.
And so we went to Beskudnikovo with a typewriter, which, of course, was carried by me and not by her.
It was winter, and it got dark early. The snow was falling. Everything was frozen. Luba weared her faux fur coat and copron stockings. We arrived at the police station, located in some old building with thick brick walls and large window sills near the windows. We went into the office, explained the essence of our matter, took out the questionnaires that we filled. And then the the demands of the officials began: reprint here, and correct this and this and here... We took out the typewriter, went out into the corridor, put it on the windowsill and Luba began to correct the questionnaires. But a passing militiawoman said that it was not allowed to print here. I said we don't bother anyone here. But she repeated: "You can't do it here". We took the typewriter and went out to the street. We did not know where to go. Lyuba knelt on the wide steps (there were four or five of them) that led to the entrance to the building, opened the typewriter and started typing. Her fingers were cold, her knees were cold, the light was dim, the machine may fail in the cold. But she finished printing everything neatly, and we went to a new approach. A young, tall, thin policeman named Lyosha was about to take our documents. There were several tables in the office, behind each was a police officer. And one of them said to Lyosha: "Lyosha, don't take (don't accept) the documents from them." And Lyosha, to our surprise, answered: "What? All their documents are all right". And he took our papers. He could refuse to take our papers, but he didn't... It was a moment of wonder. Who put into his mouth these words: "They are all right"?
Apparently, Luba's persistence, her feeling with which she pressed the keys, was transferred to the letters made of metal, hitting the black ribbon that left the imprint of each letter on paper, reached Heaven and they opened up, and put the words into Lesha's mouth.
We went home on the bus and then on the subway with the feeling that something great had happened. Although it was clear that with the paper written by Nina Zakharovna that she had material and moral claims against her daughter, we would most likely receive a refusal: we would be denied exit.
And so it happened.
After some time, we received a call from the central Moscow Uvir and were told that we were denied exit.
Some time after we started to keep Mitzvot (the Jewish law), we understood that because Nina Zakharovna was Russian - Luba needs to do "guiyur" (conversion to Judaism). Of course, at the beginning of our journey, I had no idea about this concept. But gradually it became clear.
Lyuba accepted the news calmly. Giyur - so, giyur. But true, in my heart, I'm sure it was not easy for her.
I started talking to the old people in the synagogue. One of them, Reb Geche Vilensky, was seventy-five years old. He was a Chabadnik, a representative of the Lubavitcher Rebbe in Moscow. But I didn't know it then. The first time he refused to help me with Luba's giyur.
He said: "If it is a mistake - I will be punished in Heaven, but I am a small, frail personand and there is nowhere to beat me".
Time has passed. I was learning with other Torah students, after that I myself began to teach Torah, and all this time I did not stop talking with Reb Geyche. And at some point (apparently deciding that he had already fulfilled his duty to repel at first the one who came to ask to accept conversion and join the Jewish people), he agreed.
At that time, only the central synagogue in Moscow had Mikveh (rithual bath). It was in the basement. The old people, who knew the Jewish law, brought ice to the Mikveh every winter, so the water was not considered "drawn". The Mikveh was checked a hundred times by all the religious authorities who came from abroad and was declared as "kosher". The most respected people appeared as a "Beit Din" at Luba's giyur ceremony: Reb Geyche, Reb Motl Liflitz, Reb Yisroel.
There was also a Chuppa (Jewish traditional wedding). It was arranged by Reb Binyemin, from whom I taught the Talmud, who lived not far from us.
Keeping the Jewish tradition required every woman to visit the mikveh once a month - winter and summer. The water in the mikveh was not heated. Emma Borisovna, the "balanit" (bath attendant) used to heat up the Mikveh with a little boiler, intended for heating a glass of water for coffee.
How Lyuba survived these monthly immersions - I do not know. She had to get home with wet hair - there was no place she could dry it. And in winter the temperature was often minus twenty, twenty-two degrees. She was not the only one who did this. But it was Luba - Small, fragile, tends to get sick... And she keeped going to Mikve month after monts - despite the cold. And besides this feat, there are many, many other great deeds that she did.