MOSCOW — Twice a day for 10 years, Alexei Evstratov passed by an abandoned cemetery in his hometown of Borisoglebsk. “I knew that this was a cemetery, but not until a few month ago did I know it was a Jewish cemetery,” said the 11th-grader, who is not Jewish.

He decided to take research matters into his own hands by interviewing local residents about the cemetery. The result: some 50 pages of typewritten text — Evstratov doesn’t have access to a computer — titled “The Traces of the Jewish Community in Borisoglebsk.”

Evstratov’s painstaking work was recently rewarded when he was named one of five first-prize winners out of nearly 3,000 entrants in a national youth history competition; he was the only winner who chose a topic related to Judaism.

Forwarding the News

Thoughtful, balanced reporting from the Forward and around the web, bringing you updated news and analysis each day.

Terms(Required)

I agree to the Forward's Terms of Service and Privacy Policy

Email(Required)

Evstratov comes from a family of factory workers and says Jewish topics never interested anyone around him. But the shy, tall 16-year-old said the cemetery triggered a number of questions in his head about the Jewish history in his city, so he embarked on his work.

A central Russian city with a population of 50,000, Borisoglebsk has never been an important Jewish center. The Jewish population of this town has never exceeded 300 people. It turned out that some 50 Jews — mostly elderly — are still living in Borisoglebsk, though few of them were willing to speak to Evstratov.

“People are closed-mouthed,” said his academic adviser, Ivan Ivannikov. “The old-seated fear is still alive, the fear that lingers from the pogroms under the czars and from the years of socialism.”

Moreover, it turned out, Evstratov said, that Jews who are left in town “don’t even know each other.”

The story of Borisoglebsk’s small Jewish population is similar to the Jewish history of many communities across Russia. In these towns, most of the Jews who once held prominent positions in education, health care and local government have died. Their children and grandchildren left for larger cities, and some have emigrated from Russia.

The Communists closed the Borisoglebsk synagogue in 1930, and its building — adjacent to the cemetery grounds — was turned into a private house that was later abandoned and destroyed.

Evstratov believes that none of the Jews who are still living in the city have any relatives buried in the cemetery. During the day, neighborhood children play war here, and when it’s dark, homeless people converge on this plot of land full of broken stones that once marked Jewish graves.

Evstratov says that out of the dozens of tombstones that can still be found in the old cemetery, only five can still be read. He said the oldest grave he found was from 1911 — and the most recent one is from 1975, a tombstone of a couple named Epelbaum.

“Most are broken,” he said. “Some don’t even resemble tombstones anymore — no names are seen.”

The Forward is free to read, but it isn’t free to produce

I hope you appreciated this article. Before you go, I’d like to ask you to please support the Forward.

Now more than ever, American Jews need independent news they can trust, with reporting driven by truth, not ideology. We serve you, not any ideological agenda.

At a time when other newsrooms are closing or cutting back, the Forward has removed its paywall and invested additional resources to report on the ground from Israel and around the U.S. on the impact of the war, rising antisemitism and polarized discourse.

Readers like you make it all possible. Support our work by becoming a Forward Member and connect with our journalism and your community.

This is a great time to support independent Jewish journalism you rely on. Make a gift today!

—  Rachel Fishman Feddersen, Publisher and CEO

Support our mission to tell the Jewish story fully and fairly.

$90 $180

$360

Other amount