Features
Bygone Winnipeg: A fictitous story based on true events: University of Manitoba Faculty of Medicine 1932-1944
By DAVID TOPPER Call me a witness. I was there and heard almost everything that’s relevant to this story.
Yet, thinking deeper, I guess you could call me a spy – well, at least, some may say that, for there was an element of skulduggery in my employment situation. It was all because of my father, who changed my name when I was born. Of course, we’re all born with a surname, but―
Wait. Let’s first go back to my grandfather, Moshe Levinstein, who was born in Russia, and who as a young man experienced a small pogrom – small in terms of later ones – which was enough to convince him to emigrate as fast as he could. Several people were killed, a house was burned down, and there was a rape – that ‘small’ event drove him to leave Russia, forever. He never looked back, even when Winnipeg, Canada turned out not to be quite the paradise he expected. Because he quickly found that anti-Semitism was endemic.
My father, Solomon Levinstein, while growing up, saw the struggle his parents went through being Jews in a Christian country (with the English majority Protestant, and the minority French Catholic), and he wanted to protect me as best he could when I was born. He wanted me to fit into the social fabric more than he ever could. And since I turned out to be a girl, there were even more barriers on my horizon – ‘closed doors,’ he called it. He told us that he was thinking about all this when I was still in my mother’s womb. You see, he liked to ‘plan ahead,’ which was another of his favourite phrases.
Oh, speaking of being in the womb: my grandmother died when my mother was eight months pregnant with me, and so I was supposed to be named some variation of Minnie Levinstein, as is the Jewish tradition. But since my father was obsessed with my fitting in better than he did, and he also wanted me to get through some otherwise ‘closed doors’ – I was named Mildred Evans. He said Evans and ‘Levins’ rhyme, and so do Millie and Minnie. It was also a nice Aryan-sounding name, “as the Germans would say,” he said.
Mind you, while growing up as Mildred Evans, I nonetheless didn’t hide my Jewishness. Indeed, I often went to synagogue on Saturday/Sabbath. But then, I also often went to church on Sunday and―
Um, I guess I need to explain that. You see, my best friend was Mary O’Brian, which tells you that she was probably Irish Catholic, which she was. Now, here’s my perspective in all of this. I was very precocious and very smart and I read a lot. I liked languages. On weekends I enjoyed Hebrew in the Synagogue and Latin in the Church. Two ancient languages, one dead except for the Christian Mass, and the other kept alive in prayer and Torah study. Plus, you must remember that Latin was still taught in schools at this time; it was part of a Liberal Arts education in the first half of the 20th century. Many universities required High School Latin for entrance to their freshman classes. As well, to me, the Mass was like an opera, with singing and those glorious organ pipes vibrating and echoing throughout the church. Mary and I, by-the-by, went to the beautiful Cathedral in St. Boniface, with the astonishing and huge Rose window. You see, there were no organs in any synagogue. And so, it was not so strange for this Jew to enjoy the Catholic Mass as a musical event. Think of Bach, a devout Lutheran, who wrote his wonderful Mass in B-minor.
Anyway, to me the Mass was a show, and it was free – well not completely free, since the church always passed around a collection basket near the end of the service – a sort of pay-what-may type thing, you could say. I remember that Mary, when I took her to her first synagogue service, was surprised that there was no collection at the end, especially since after the service there was an oneg in the social hall, with food galore. But I digress.
The service of the Mass, to me, was not entirely unfamiliar, since there were many prayers and texts that borrowed passages from what they called The Old Testament: many of the sayings of the prophets, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and others. “But what about the stuff on Jesus?” you may be asking, eh? Well, you see, I read a lot of history, as I told Mary – and I must say she was shocked when I first told her this; although eventually she (well, sort of) agreed with me – well, I told her that Jesus was not a Christian, but a Jew named Yeshua, and he always was; ‘Jesus’ was the later Latinized name. He had some differences with the Jewish hierarchy at the time, along with problems with the Romans who occupied the Holy Land, so much so that they (the Romans) crucified him. It was after his death that Christianity was born, due in large part to the preaching and writing of a Jew name Saul, whose name was later Latinized to ‘Paul’ after he had a vision of the resurrected Yeshua/Jesus. Saul/Paul made a strong case for rejecting many Jewish practices (such as circumcision), so much so that his sect broke free from its Jewish root. They became known as ‘Christians,’ since Paul preached that Yeshua was the real messiah (or ‘anointed one’), which in Greek is ‘Kristos,’ later Latinized to ‘Christus.’
Mary laughed when I said that therefore you might call the birth of Christianity a Jewish conspiracy. “Oh Millie,” she said. “You’re so smart it sometimes scares me. What is going to happen to you?”
Good question.
So, what did happen to me? Well it helped being smart, that’s for sure. Very smart, indeed. But not pushy. No, not pushy or impudent in any way. Not at all. You see, I was (and still am) happy with less – a lot less than I probably could have had. Yes, I lived (and still live) parsimoniously.
Well, I got a university education with excellent grades (as you might expect) but I didn’t go any further, although I could have, and was encouraged to do so. But I saw the university system as a barrier to women. And I was not inclined to fight the system. As I said, I was satisfied with less. While still a student at the University of Manitoba, I got part-time secretarial jobs, since I was a fabulous typist and proof reader. Even before I graduated, I was offered a full-time position as a secretary in the English Department, since their long-time-serving woman was thinking of retiring. And in the end, after graduation, I got the job.
It was the best decision of my life, looking back on it. You see, in this job I could go home at 5pm to my modest house not far from the university and forget about the job until the next morning. In the warmer weather I could walk to and fro; although in the dead of winter I took the short bus ride. After all, it was Winnipeg. And at home I could read whatever I wanted. Play the piano. Do my art work: drawing (pencil and/or pen & ink) and painting (only watercolour). Listen to the radio. And I read as much as I wanted: lots of books, magazines, and newspapers. I got the New York Times Sunday edition in the mail every week; it was a bit late, of course, but there were so many articles of interest that it was a source of almost endless reading throughout the week. For example, I recently came across this quote from the famous Albert Einstein in an article about him: “Perhaps it is due to anti-Semitism that we can preserve ourselves as a race; at least, this is what I believe.” I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this, especially in light of what I am going to tell you later. Incidentally, when I was a student, there were no Jewish professors on the faculty. Even as late as the mid-1940s, there were still only four Jewish professors.
In contrast to my life, my boss’s home life was filled with lectures to prepare, and even on weekends there were papers to mark, exams to compose and later to mark. And so it went. He often told me I was fortunate to be able to start a book and just read it at my leisure, right through if I wished. He confided in me that he seldom had time to read half of what he wanted to. I believe he liked talking to me, since I was smart. He often asked my advice regarding even the content of the texts that I was typing for him. We got along swimmingly, as you might surmise. We had a very good rela―
Okay, before you start fantasizing further, let me stop you. There was nothing beyond our professional relationship. Nothing at all. Throughout the university, in all my jobs – nothing. No flirting, never. I had no affairs in those years in various secretarial positions, if that’s what you’re thinking. And here’s why: I am not attractive. I knew this in High School, and was satisfied with it. Remember, I like a simple life, and I discovered that this unattractive state makes life uncomplicated – or, at least, less complicated than it otherwise might be. I could see among my classmates in school that the (let’s call them) ‘attractive’ girls had a life that was a roller-coaster ride. Up, happy, being gleeful; down, way down, when a guy dumped them. Yes, I saw some girls get really down; had to take pills; some even admitted to hospital. I thought: who needs this crap? I don’t want those ups and downs; I want a straight ride, flat. “Yes, just flat,” as I told Mary. She laughed, “Well that’s not the only thing that’s flat for you, huh”? We both had a good laugh at that. Remember we were best friends, and each could take a joke.
So, I tell you: my so-called ‘unattractiveness’ was a gift. Which I took and ran with, you might say. Today, you see: I wear no make-up, have a simple straight hair-do extending below my ears but not touching my shoulders, wear loose and non-flashy blouses, have only skirts far below my knees, and I wear sensible shoes – namely, flats (oh, that word again). All this ensured that my relationships with the men under whom I worked at the university would remain strictly professional. Let’s put it this way. I always had a good night’s solo sleep, if you know what I mean.
Of course, this is not to say that I never had an intimate relationship with anyone, but rather that it was not with any of my bosses – and I will leave it at that, for this has gone far beyond the original topic. But – and I emphasize this – all this is not a digression, for I very much want you to know about me and my life at the University of Manitoba, so as to put this story into context and to show how and why what I am going to tell you should not only be believed, but also taken seriously.
Further, to set the stage: I got along well with my fellow all-female secretaries and other staff at the university. My plainness was interpreted as a sort of prissiness, which is not true, but they didn’t know that. As Mildred Evans, I was asked what church I went to, and I told them St. Boniface Cathedral, since I did go to it when my friend Mary and I were kids, so strictly speaking my answer was no lie. Although I know their question had a different meaning. (Incidentally, Mary is now married and living in Toronto, raising her four kids.) They then asked why I go all the way to the other city to attend church and I told them it was about the music and the organ. They understood, and asked no more.
Also, due to my modest behaviour, they questioned why I was not a nun, and it led to them jokingly calling me Sister Millie. I said there was no such St. Mildred, although this may not be true, but then what do Protestants know about saints? – since Luther, Calvin, and the others eschewed them, along with the Virgin Mary, from their theology. And speaking of joking: being ‘Sister Millie’ among these Protestants, I was in an opportune position to reprimand them when they occasionally told anti-Semitic jokes or made similar remarks. And I did. As an art-lover, I also took the occasions to lecture them on the destruction of so much art by the Protestants during the Reformation: defacing and burning paintings, smashing statues, destroying stained-glass windows, and more. They knew none of this; it was a shock to them. They were not taught such things in Sunday-school, they said.
And that brings me to the reason for telling you all this in the first place. For, as I began, I said I was a witness, or even a spy. But for what? Well, for what may be called the backroom conversations. The secret disc―
Wait, I’m getting ahead. Uh, let’s start here: After many years with the English Department, I was promoted to being secretary for the new Dean of Medicine, Dr. Warren Matthews. It began for me at end of term in late May 1932. Although the Dean’s term began in September, he occasionally came around during the summer months to bring things (books, files, and such) so that his office was ready in the fall. He got to know me a bit and seemed very pleased and comfortable with me. His wife, Eleanor, even came with him one summer day – I believe, to check me out. She was nicely dressed, looking very Anglo-Saxonish prim and proper, if there is such a thing. When she saw me, she first looked me straight in my eyes and, while she was saying some pleasantries, she panned down my body to my feet and back up to my face, and ended with a self-assured smile on her face. I passed, since I was clearly no threat to her sexuality, whatever there was of it.
I spent the summer getting adjusted to the new office, going through the files and sometimes reorganizing them my way, and changing some things around in the physical space of the office. For one thing, I preferred keeping my office door to the university closed, but with a COME IN sign, when I was there. I didn’t like the constant background noise and chatter, as well as obtrusive eyes walking past an open door. That summer, I also had lots of typing to do both for the new Dean and for others in the Department of Medicine.
By the fall, when the Dean came in for the new term, we could get right to work. And we did. We quickly developed a good working relationship. He was obviously comfortable with me, for he shortly said that I should just call him ‘Warren.’ Interestingly, he liked me keeping my door closed, since he preferred keeping his door open. He said he was a bit claustrophobic, plus he liked to hear my typing – it had a musical rhythm that he found restful. Importantly, this meant that I was privy to confidential remarks by the Dean and those who ran the administration of the university when they were in his office. In short, I was able to eavesdrop. And eavesdrop I did! And that’s why I’m telling you this.
But this spying came later. The reason I am telling you this is because of an event that took place not long after he got settled into his new office. I can still remember the day. It was first thing in the morning, and after the “how are you” etc., he told me to look at the records of students admitted to the Medical School in terms of their ethnic origin, particularly noting how many of them were Jews. “We already have too many Jews, Millie,” he said. It was a jolt, and although I’m sure I showed no visible signs of my reaction, internally I was shaken. So much so that I almost blew my cover. Yes, even as Mildred Evans, Sister Millie, it―
Well, it’s hard to explain. I was tempted, of course, to ask why, … but, of course, I didn’t. “I’ll get to it right away, Warren,” was the best thing I could say at the time, and I turned away walking toward a filing cabinet, as any loyal Anglo-Saxon secretary would do, but with shaking hands that I hid from my boss.
I found that on the application form there was a line for ‘racial origin,’ and so I was able to do my job. I discovered that throughout the 1920s there were usually about 64 students per year admitted, with 18-25% being Jewish. Other ethnic groups also came – Ukrainian, Polish, German, and so forth, but in smaller percentages. Most, not surprisingly, were Anglo-Saxon – good English stock, according to Warren. When I presented my finding to him, I added another category, and I prefaced it by saying that I hoped he didn’t think I was being impudent in doing so. It was the number of women admitted, which was very low – often none, sometimes one or two. Warren smiled and said it was fine for me to be “conscious of my sex” and he blushed after he said it. I think hearing himself saying the word ‘sex’ out-loud to me, well, it jolted him – the way, on the previous day, his word ‘Jews’ jolted me.
Subsequently, my eavesdropping elicited more examples of anti-Semitism endemic to the faculty, as he chatted in his office with other administrators, keeping his door open. They all agreed. “Too many pushy Jews.” “Since they invariably get high grades in school, if we don’t put a lid on the enrolment, soon they will all be Jews.” “If we don’t do something now, well Jews will take over the faculty.” “First the Jews and then Ukrainians or Poles.” “At least the Frenchies have their own college in St. Boniface.” And so it went – a litany of bigotry, discrimination, and prejudice straight from the mouths of the administrative faculty to the ears of Mildred Evans. At most, a few made mild queries as to the efficacy of it, and the possibility of “aggressive Jewish lawyers” filing a legal case against the practice.
In the end there was a quota system initiated for all incoming classes, keeping the Jewish enrolment low. In 1936, for example, only nine got in. In later years even fewer. Out of 60 or more students, sometimes only four to six were Jewish. Of course, this meant that Anglo-Saxon students with far lower grades than Jewish students were admitted in place of them. And this was for a school to train physicians, dealing with life and death. “Just what we need – dumber doctors,” I told my Jewish friends. You see, I didn’t hide my clandestine information. I told anyone who would listen to me. Unfortunately, where it might make a difference, I got indifference, brought on by fear. Rabbis were afraid to do anything. They went along with the quota rule. “Don’t make waves, things could get worse,” was a standard response. Yes, they went along with the quota system. “Don’t look like a ‘pushy Jew,’ at least we get the ones that we get,” I was told. “Look, honey, be happy with four to six doctors a year,” I was told to my face by a rabbi’s wife. The same thing from the Jewish establishment. The B’nai Brith was afraid to do anything because it might backfire and only make matters worse. Similarly, for the Canadian Jewish Congress, which was reluctant to get involved in this Winnipeg issue. “What wimps,” I told my friends. I did the best I could. I didn’t blow my cover.
For me this thing came to a head in 1943, when the med school again turned down many Jewish and some other ‘ethnic’ students, so as to admit Anglo-Saxon students with (in this case) not only lower grades – but they also admitted some students who didn’t even pass their university exams and thus were required to go to summer school! To me, this was the last straw. The Jewish students’ Avakah Zionist Society got wind of this and began to bring all this out into the open. They eventually got the help of a Jewish lawyer and, yes, a fuss was raised and pressure was put on the Board of the University of Manitoba.
Finally, in 1944, after a dozen years of overt discrimination, the Medical School removed the racial and religious categories in their application. The quota rule finally ended. I celebrated with my Jewish friends. And, yes, Mildred “Prissy” Evans got a little tipsy.
Speaking of celebrating. In 1949, Dr. Warren Matthews was awarded an Honourary Doctor of Laws for his dedicated service to the University. I was invited to a private party for him, but I made up some excuse as to why I couldn’t make it. You see, I was afraid that if I did go, I would not be able to control myself, and proper Mildred Evans, aka Sister Millie, would perform the very unladylike act of making a scene by copiously spitting into the party’s punch bowl.
* * *
Features
New book about a man who helped to save the lives of 200,000 Hungarian Jews
Reviewed by BERNIE BELLAN I have to admit that, as much as I consider myself reasonably informed about the history of the Holocaust, I had never heard of Rudolf Vrba.
Further, when it comes to an understanding of what happened to Hungary’s Jewish population, it’s the story of Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg that comes foremost to mind.
But now, after having read a new book by Canadian journalist Alan Twigg, titled “Holocaust Hero – The Life & Times of Rudolf Vrba,” I have a much better understanding of what happened to Hungarian Jewry.
There were approximately 800,000 Jews alive in Hungary at the beginning of World War II and, even though 63,000 Hungarian Jews had been murdered by their fellow Hungarians prior to Germany’s entry into Hungary in March 1944 (with the willing cooperation of Hungarian authorities), by the end of World War II only about 200,000 Hungarian Jews remained alive. Of the Jews who were murdered by the Nazis, 424,000 were sent to their deaths in Auschwitz-Birkenau – in a relatively short period of time: between April and July, 1944.
There would have been many more Hungarian Jews who would have been sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau, however, were it not for the heroism of two individuals who actually managed to escape from Auschwitz in April 1944: Rudolf Vrba and Alfred Wetzler.
While there have been many books written describing how those two brave men managed to escape Auschwitz (and there were only six individuals who managed to do that the entire time Auschwitz was in existence as the largest death camp in the history of the world), Rudolf Vrba’s story is one that should be of particular interest to Canadians because Vrba actually lived in Canada for 31 years of this life, when he was a very well respected professor of biochemistry at the University of British Columbia.
Now, with a recently released book by a well known Canadian historian and journalist by the name of Alan Twigg, a much more complete account of Vrba’s story, beginning with his childhood in Slovakia and ending with a long interview with Vrba’s second wife, Robin Vrba, is available.
Here are the first two paragraphs taken from Twigg’s introduction to the book, which describe in a nutshell why Vrba deserves to be celebrated: “This first volume of a two-volume biography asserts there was much more to Rudolf Vrba than his escape from Auschwitz and his subsequent report that saved 200,000 lives. An outstanding medical researcher, Vrba submitted testimony at the Eichmann trial, pursued war criminals, served globally as a riveting public speaker and combatted Holocaust denialists.
“Under his birth name Walter Rosenberg, he survived…24 near-death experiences over a three-year period as a teenager… At 20, he fought in ten life-threatening battles as a Partisan in the mountains of Slovakia and became a decorated war hero. Rudolf Vrba was a Jew who fought back.”
Twigg explains that this book deals mostly with Vrba’s life up to 1946 and that a second volume will explore his quite successful career as a biochemist.
What emerges though, from Twigg’s account of Vrba’s life is unbridled admiration for Vrba’s brilliance – as someone who could make instant assessments of life or death situations and, no matter how fraught with danger the wrong choice could entail, retained his composure and thought his way through to survival.
Born Walter Rosenberg, Vrba was eventually given the alias Rudolf Vrba by Jewish authorities in Slovakia, which is to where he escaped from Auschwitz with Wetzler in April 1944. Rather than reverting to Walter Rosenberg following the war he kept the name Rudolf Vrba.
Twigg provides a great deal of information about Vrba’s early life throughout the book, but what is sure to grab the reader’s attention and want to make even someone who might not be all that interested in reading something about a Holocaust survivor is the introduction in which Twigg lists the 24 different experiences that Vrba survived as a teenager, each of which – had they gone the wrong way, could very well have ended with his death.
The fact that Vrba was one of only six Jews to have escaped Auschwitz is amazing in itself, but it is what he – along with Wetzler, did after escaping that makes one wonder why he hasn’t received greater recognition in Canada – and which leads Twigg to want to correct that grave injustice.
Vrba and Wetzler wrote down what they had witnessed happening in Auschwitz-Birkenau in a 20-page report that was given to Slovakian Jewish authorities and which became known as the “Vrba-Wetzler Report.” It provided detailed information about the large scale extermination of what the report calculated were 1,765,000 Jews between April 1942 and April 1944, all of whom had been murdered in Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Vrba had an incredible memory for detail and it was the figures that he entered into the report that came to be accepted as quite accurate when they were later corroborated by the testimony of others, including the most notorious commandant of Auschwitz, Rudolf Hoss (or Hoess).
Although Vrba only arrived in Auschwitz in June 1942, he based his calculations on what he saw transpiring every day that he was there, when he witnessed the number of trains arriving daily, how many boxcars were part of each train (45 on average), and how many people were stuffed into each boxcar (60 on average).
While the report did receive dissemination among various Western European and American authorities, Twigg argues that it was deliberately suppressed by leaders of the Hungarian Jewish community – who had been well aware of the report around the same time mass deportations of Hungarian Jews began in April 1944. Germany had not entered into Hungary until March 1944 and the Hungarian Jewish community was the last Jewish community to be largely extinguished during the war.
A major part of Twigg’s book deals with Vrba’s contention that one man in particular, Rudolf Kastner, who was head of what was known as the Budapest Aid and Rescue Committee, and who was well aware of the Vrba-Wetzler Report, could have used his influence to warn Hungarian Jews about their impending fate at the hands of the Nazis but, for whatever reasons he may have had, chose not to do so. (Twigg does describe though, a deal Kastner made with Adolph Eichmann, who was in charge of Germany’s extermination program in Hungary, to save the lives of 1600 Hungarian Jews, many of whom were either friends or relatives of Kastner.) The contempt with which Vrba and, in turn, Twigg, held for Kastner and those who came to his defense – including one of Israel’s most respected historians, Yehuda Bauer, emerges clearly in the book.
Eventually, however, and in no small part, due to the failure of leaders of Hungary’s Jewish community to warn their fellow Jews what fate awaited them if they followed orders to board the trains, over 400,000 Hungarian Jews were sent to their slaughter. With the total cooperation of Hungarian authorities, Jews – as they were in every other jurisdiction where they were ordered on to trains, were misled into thinking that they were simply being deported, not headed for extermination.
It was only after the Vrba-Wetzler Report gained wide dissemination, a process which Twigg describes in some detail, that pressure began to mount on Miklos Horthy, the “Regent” of Hungary, to stop assisting the Germans in the deportation of Hungarian Jews. (After reading other information about Horthy, however, it is not clear the extent to which Horthy was aware Jews were being sent to their deaths prior to the publication of the Vrba-Wetzler Report. Twigg does not enter into that debate.)
While “Holocaust Hero – The Life & Times of Rudolf Vrba” does tell a fascinating story, at times it does lose momentum. Perhaps because Twigg makes quite clear from the outset that he is a journalist and a historian, not a novelist, he relies upon previously written accounts, including Vrba’s own autobiography, to cobble together a narrative from a variety of different sources. What results is a book that will probably be of great interest to students of history, but not as much to those who might prefer to read a story laden with graphic imagery.
There are many instances throughout the book where Twigg takes great pains to offer substantiation for what he says happened to Vrba during the Second World War – which was undoubtedly horrifying, but because the author is so dispassionate in his writing, what Vrba endured does not come across as chillingly as one might expect.
Reading about stacking bodies in advance of their being taken to a crematorium or of sorting through the possessions of the victims – all of which Vrba did, doesn’t quite deliver the gut punch that we’ve come to expect when we see actual visual representations of the same experiences – whether it be through documentary footage or dramatizations in such films as “Schindler’s List” or , to my mind, the most riveting film ever made about what life in Auschwitz was truly like – “Son of Saul,” a Hungarian film that won the Academy Award for best foreign film in 2015.
The book contains quite a bit more information than perhaps the average reader might need to know, including a very lengthy transcript of an interview Twigg had with Vrba’s widow, Robin Vrba. While it’s somewhat interesting to read about their life together, it’s hardly germane to the story how important a role Vrba ultimately played in saving the lives of 200,000 Hungarian Jews.
Still, as we approach the anniversary of Kristallnacht, which happened 87 years ago, and which was the harbinger of what was to come for European Jewry, reading a book that describes how one individual in particular, Rudolf Vrba, not only survived the Holocaust when almost anyone else in the same situations he repeatedly encountered would have succumbed to the easy way out and accepted death, it reminds us that stories of heroism on an unimaginable level can make us realize that whatever hardships we may face in our own lives pale in comparison to what someone like Vrba endured.
“Holocaust Hero – The Life & Times of Rudolf Vrba”
By Alan Twigg
153 pages
Published by Firefly Books, September 2025
Features
Bitcoin Price Volatility: WOA Crypto – Why Cloud Mining Becomes a Safe Haven for Investors
(Posted Oct. 10, 2025) Bitcoin once again attracted market attention today, with the price around $122,259, with an intraday high of $124,138 and a low of $121,141. Driven by capital flows, ETF inflows, and macroeconomic factors, Bitcoin recently hit a new high, but encountered retracement pressure today and fluctuated widely between $121,000 and $124,000 during the initial decline.
There have been no major structural changes in capital flows. For most investors, the best way to deal with volatility is not to try to precisely time peaks and troughs, but to let assets generate returns both in the ups and downs.
Cloud Mining: A New Approach Beyond “Observing the Charts”
In a constantly volatile market, checking charts, chasing peaks (and then cutting losses) is routine—actions that often lead to emotional exhaustion and poor decision-making. Cloud mining offers a solid, rules-based revenue model.
What is cloud mining?
Cloud mining allows you to mine Bitcoin and other altcoins without having to purchase, manage, or maintain any mining hardware. Simply invest your digital assets (e.g., BTC, ETH, XRP, USDT), and the platform will provide you with the computing power and handle all technical issues. Yes, the system will mine for you and pay you daily.
To summarize: you invest cash, the platform provides computing power, and your time pays off.
During periods of high prices and volatility, cloud mining (due to its daily payouts and weak correlation with price fluctuations) attracts more rational investors.
WOA Crypto Mining: Making Cloud Mining Practical
Among the many cloud mining services, WOA Crypto positions itself as a simple, secure, and transparent service—allowing investors to focus on more than just price monitoring.
Key highlights of WOA Crypto
Zero technical barriers: No hardware setup or maintenance required.
Daily payouts: Profits are automatically settled every 24 hours, ensuring a stable cash flow.
Multi-asset support: Accepts BTC, ETH, XRP, and USDT.
Transparent and secure system: Clear rules, an open profit structure, and a proven withdrawal mechanism.
Green energy and global deployment: Using efficient computing centers powered by renewable energy to increase stability and reduce costs
How to start your WOA Crypto mining journey
Visit the official WOA Crypto website.
Register using your email address and create a password.
Simply deposit BTC, ETH, XRP, or USDT, and your funds will be converted into computing power.
Choose a mining contract plan and start earning your first profit within 24 hours.
No technical knowledge or hardware required, no need to follow market trends: this simple-to-use app will give you a comfortable home cloud mining experience. Click here to get started.
Conclusion: Finding stability amidst volatility
While the price of Bitcoin has fluctuated between $121,000 and $124,000, the winners haven’t been those who perfectly timed the tops and bottoms, but rather those who consistently let the asset perform.
Cloud mining eliminates most of the emotional fluctuations in trading and provides a strategy that is easy to accumulate over the long term, which can continue to accumulate capital even in uncertain times. In times of market volatility, letting assets grow in value is undoubtedly the most resilient investment strategy.
Official email: info@woacrypto.com
Features
Beyond Pusoy and Tongits: A Look at GameZone’s Exclusive Gaming Portfolio
For generations, Tongits and Pusoy have stood as cornerstones of Filipino gaming culture. These games transcend mere pastime; they are social rituals—played during birthdays, family reunions, and even the quiet nights of a lamay.
Each hand dealt carries a blend of laughter, banter, and skill, weaving together community and camaraderie.
Yet as the Filipino way of life becomes increasingly digital, traditional card games are evolving. Platforms like GameZone Philippines have taken up the mantle of preserving this heritage while pushing it forward.
Through its exclusive lineup of innovative titles, GameZone bridges the past and the future, offering a selection of games that celebrate the Filipino gaming spirit while embracing modernity.
Beyond the familiar cards of Tongits and Pusoy, GameZone exclusive games represent a new chapter in online entertainment—one defined by variety, quality, and distinctly Filipino ingenuity.
GameZone Exclusive Games: The New Standard of Digital Play
While Tongits and Pusoy remain at the heart of the GameZone experience, the platform’s exclusive gaming portfolio expands far beyond them.
These titles embody both creativity and technical precision, providing fresh gameplay experiences that suit every mood—from strategic planning to fast-paced reflex challenges.
Below are six of the most notable GameZone exclusive games that exemplify this new wave of Filipino digital entertainment.
1. Tongits Joker: A Reinvention of a Classic
In the hierarchy of Filipino card games, Tongits reigns supreme. But GameZone’s Tongits Joker brings a compelling innovation to this beloved classic.
The addition of the Joker card injects a new level of unpredictability into each round, allowing it to function as a wildcard that can transform the tide of play.
Players can now form unique combinations, such as the elusive five-of-a-kind, while testing their ability to think ahead and adapt in real time.
This heightened complexity introduces a more dynamic experience—balancing luck, logic, and creativity.
Tongits Joker honors the original’s community-based spirit while challenging players to reimagine their strategies.
It is both a tribute to Filipino tradition and a step toward a more competitive and intellectually engaging future for local gaming.
2. Mines+: The Pursuit of Precision
While many online games lean on chance, Mines+ rewards observation, calculation, and the courage to take measured risks.
Drawing inspiration from the classic minesweeper concept, this GameZone exclusive enhances the experience through refined visuals, intuitive gameplay, and a structure that prioritizes precision over luck.
Each click becomes a strategic decision—an interplay between instinct and logic. One mistake can end a run, yet each victory feels earned through sheer focus.
Mines+ encapsulates the essence of mental discipline, offering a simple yet sophisticated game that appeals to players who appreciate mastery over fortune.
3. Ultra Ace: Where Speed Meets Skill
Modern gaming thrives on immediacy, and Ultra Ace delivers precisely that. This fast-paced card-based competition challenges players to think and react under pressure, rewarding sharp timing and accuracy.
Every round becomes a test of reflex and reason as players chase the elusive “Ultra Ace” hand—the perfect combination that guarantees victory.
The game’s minimalistic design ensures focus remains on the action, while its competitive environment captures the spirit of Filipino resilience and determination.
Ultra Ace exemplifies GameZone’s approach: offering entertainment that is not only thrilling but also deeply skill-oriented. It invites players to refine their instincts while enjoying the exhilaration of quick, decisive play.
4. Candy Rush: Simplicity Refined
At the lighter end of the spectrum lies Candy Rush, a game designed to soothe rather than stress. Despite its charming aesthetic and simple mechanics, it is far from ordinary.
Players engage in an endless rhythm of matching and scoring, each round inviting a satisfying sense of progression. Its accessible gameplay ensures it can be enjoyed by all ages, while its clever design keeps engagement high even during short breaks.
More than just a casual diversion, Candy Rush demonstrates GameZone’s understanding of player psychology. It balances challenge and comfort, ensuring that gaming remains a pleasurable escape rather than a test of endurance.
By stepping beyond card-based mechanics, GameZone showcases its versatility, proving it can craft experiences that entertain across genres while maintaining polish and playability.
5. Lucky Hilo: Strategy in Simplicity
At first glance, Lucky Hilo appears deceptively straightforward: predict whether the next card or number will be higher or lower. Yet beneath that simplicity lies a complex interplay of intuition and statistical reasoning.
GameZone’s refined interface and brisk pacing elevate Lucky Hilo into something more strategic and rewarding than chance alone. Each decision tests a player’s understanding of probability and pattern recognition, encouraging thoughtful play over reckless guessing.
It’s a game of instinct—but also of restraint. And that balance between gut feeling and smart calculation makes Lucky Hilo a standout among GameZone’s exclusive offerings.
6. Super Gems: The Pressure of Precision
In contrast to Candy Rush’s calm charm, Super Gems thrives on intensity. The game demands that players match colorful gems under strict time limits, transforming each session into a contest of focus and reflexes.
Every second counts. The ticking clock heightens tension, rewarding quick thinking and composure under pressure. Yet beneath that adrenaline rush lies an elegant design—proof that competitive play can be both thrilling and aesthetically pleasing.
Through Super Gems, GameZone delivers a polished arcade-style experience that merges strategy with spectacle, further diversifying its gaming catalog.
About GameZone Philippines
GameZone Philippines is a premier online entertainment platform that redefines digital gaming for Filipino audiences.
With a deep respect for local culture and an eye toward technological innovation, GameZone curates a library of skill-based, interactive, and socially engaging titles that mirror the vibrancy and wit of Filipino gamers.
The platform’s commitment to quality and creativity has established it as a leader in the Philippine gaming landscape.
Each of its exclusive titles—whether rooted in tradition or exploring new frontiers—underscores a dedication to community, fairness, and fun.
GameZone also prioritizes accessibility, ensuring that players of all backgrounds can participate and connect through shared experiences.
Its games foster friendly competition, mental engagement, and social connection, embodying the true spirit of Filipino gaming: inclusive, inventive, and endlessly entertaining.
Beyond recreation, GameZone’s mission extends to community-building. It aims to strengthen the digital bonds among Filipino players worldwide by providing a safe, enjoyable, and skill-oriented gaming environment.
Redefining Filipino Gaming in the Digital Era
The GameZone exclusive games discussed here symbolize a broader cultural shift. Where once the nation’s gamers gathered around tables and decks of cards, they now connect across screens and servers—united by nostalgia, skill, and innovation.
These titles represent not just entertainment but evolution. They reaffirm that Filipino gaming is alive, adaptive, and forward-looking.
From the strategic depth of Tongits Joker to the casual charm of Candy Rush, every game reflects GameZone’s vision of blending tradition with technology.
In essence, GameZone is more than a platform; it is a movement to reimagine Filipino play for the modern age.
By offering diverse experiences that balance challenge, creativity, and cultural identity, it ensures that the joy of gaming remains a shared and enduring part of Filipino life.
So the next time you log in, look beyond Pusoy and Tongits. Explore GameZone’s exclusive portfolio—and discover how the future of Filipino gaming continues to evolve, one expertly crafted game at a time.