Olga Kuzmina-Dauguvietene was born in 1884 in Kiev. In 1909 she graduated from the Imperial Theatre School in St. Petersburg and was accepted as an actress at the St. Petersburg Maly Theatre. Later O. Kuzmina worked in the theatres of Petrozavodsk, Grodno, Bialystok and others.

Since 1920 O. Kuzmina lived and worked in Lithuania. Until 1940 she performed in various amateur and semi-professional companies in Šiauliai, Biržai and Kaunas. Kuzmina has been an actress at the Vilnius Russian Drama Theatre since 1946. She played about 200 roles.

YOU COULDN'T LIVE WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED

O.Kuzmina-Dauguvietienė

On the eve of the German occupation of Lithuanian, Olga Dauguvietienė (née Kuzmina) lived in Kaunas, where she was well known as an actress in the local Russian theater. Her daughters, 23-year-old Asya (later Dubrovsky) and Nelli, 18, lived with her, while her third daughter, Dara Hanfman, lived in a separate apartment with her husband, Andrey Hanfman.

It was a very difficult time. The wild, unparalleled influx of fascist barbarians changed the everyday order of life, brought people out of their indifference and revealed their inclinations.

It became very scary - suffering, cruelty, death at every turn. Here are the exhausted, barely alive former Soviet prisoners of war. They are being called, barely able to move their legs, with bayonets in their backs by clean-cut, well-groomed boys (hitlerjugend). It is simply impossible to imagine how these children were turned into beasts. It is a group of Jews being driven across a bridge somewhere with yellow stars on their chests and backs. Among them are the elderly, children.

What to do, how to fight, how to help the unfortunate? One thing is clear: it would be impossible to live with our eyes closed, a disgrace. I was 60 years old at the time, I was exhausted by life and I did not think that I could be of any use to anyone, although I wanted it with all my heart.

One day, when I was staying with one of my married daughters, a friend came running from the ghetto and begged to be rescued. There was a regular action scheduled for that day. She lived with her grandmother in the ghetto. Her husband and parents had died earlier. She was only 20 years old and she wanted to live.

My daughter, her husband and her little daughter lived in a shared flat with strangers. It was dangerous for her friend to stay in such a place. As I was living in a separate flat with just my family, I invited her to stay with me. Ija Taubman (Pozdniakoff) was the first swallow to come to us. Later on, Dr. B. Voschin came to us, and then Dr. S. Nabriskis.

I had a strange feeling - my heart felt lighter and I felt that this was a justification for life.

Of course, materially it was very difficult, we all didn't have enough money or food. And it was scary: every bell, every step on the stairs was terribly frightening. I used to get very worried when we had to leave the house: after all, the neighbours could hear the bustling in my flat. It was especially difficult when I had children staying with me. After all, I had a child to answer for. And if suddenly there's a search, how can you survive if you can't save them. Margita Stenderytė, the daughter of the murdered concertmaster of the Kaunas Opera and Ballet Theatre, was brought to me by violinist Vladas Varčikas. Friends in the profession decided to save his child. At first she was in another place, but it became dangerous there, and then Margita was brought to me. It was very difficult with her, because she didn't speak either Russian or Lithuanian, only Jewish. Gradually Margita began to understand Russian, but it was still not easy with her: she was spoiled and capricious, although very intelligent. Her mother was hiding somewhere in the village. At that time, there were no adults with me. One evening my daughter was not at home. Margita and I sat alone. The bell rang. I went to open the door and left her sitting in the room, telling her not to go out. An acquaintance came in, and as we were talking, suddenly there was a child's cry.

- 'Oh, your granddaughter is here, show her to me,' she says. I had to tell her everything. She was a very nice woman, and I was sure she wouldn't tell anyone. Of course she didn't tell anyone, although she was very frightened and horrified at how I could put myself and my family in danger.

As the word spread more and more about me, people started to come, and with a heavy heart I had to say no to some of them, because it was not possible to accommodate everyone. But I could not say no to the children, and I had several girls staying with me all the time. Among them, I particularly remember a lovely, sensitive girl, Fruma Vitkinaitė. Her parents had remained in the ghetto. She was very worried about her own people and cried a lot, but quietly. Fruma's parents were killed and she was taken in by a very good woman, Elena Holcmaniene, whose daughter, an active fighter against the fascists, was killed. This wonderful girl Fruma, whom we all loved, once moved me very much. After the liberation of Kaunas, she came to me and brought me a flower. There were other girls with me, but for some reason the others are not so memorable. [...].