A Community Celebration
Jews
have lived in Uzbekistan, most especially in Bukhara, since the 14th
Century after their forced migration from Turkestan and Persia. In this regard, they represent one of the farthest ends of
the Jewish Diaspora. They were able
to become quite dominant in the business of silk dyeing, an important role here
on the locus of the Silk Road, but as in other places, were never able to take a
significant role in politics or social influence. Today, there are 2,000 Jews left in the country, 1,000 of
them in Bukhara.
We
ask our tour coordinator, Mila, if she can arrange for us to have dinner with a
local Jewish family. Our guesthouse
in Bukhara is just south of Lyab-I-Hauz Square in Bukhara, which houses the
Jewish Quarter and we call on the Rabbi at the synagogue that morning.
We tour the old Sephardic synagogue, which is undergoing construction.
It is like a trip into the middle ages.
The bima (Rabbi's lectern - see photo at left) is in the center and there are seats around the walls.
We discover that the rabbi is in fact the Chief Rabbi for all of Central
Asia. A few local men are working
on various tasks and pay little attention to us.
Later that day Mila tells us that today is the festival of Sukkoth and we
are welcome to join in the festivities that evening at 7:00PM
Mila
takes us through the pitch-black alleys of the old city that evening and we
enter the home of Suleiman, a local businessman whose courtyard houses a
purpose-built Sukkah. Mila is
ushered off to have dinner with the women and we step back in time as we enter a
very crowded area, walled off with carpets, with a roof made of four types of
plants - the lulav--palm frond, etrog--citron, aravah--willow, and hadas--myrtle.
The tables are arranged in a horseshoe with the men seated all around it
and the rabbi is making a speech. As
it turns out he is speaking in Tajik/Farsi - one of several local languages.
I am seated on the Rabbi’s left next to a friendly man named Rafael
who, I find out subsequently is the president of the synagogue and head of the
Jewish Agency for Uzbekistan. Rafael
knows a few words of English and tells me that his son, Arthur, speaks English.
After the Rabbi is finished and some prayers are said in Hebrew, the meal
begins.
I
look around the table. The 10
Commandments are displayed prominently above the head of the table. Nuts, raisins, sugar and candies are spread around on the
tables. Most of the 40 or so men around the table seem to be my age or older.
There are a few kids and the only man older than 18 or younger than 45 is
Arthur. We discover that most of
the population has taken advantage of the opportunity, since Uzbekistan became
independent in 1991, to emigrate to Israel, America or some other country where
they have opportunity and or relatives. Most
are dressed informally. Some wear
fedoras, other karakul wool hats. A
few wear distinctly local yarmulkes. The
more prosperous wear western suits and ties although they are but a few.
After
prayers and more chanting, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and the local bread are
served. Then come the drinks, which
are water, Coca Cola and Bukhara vodka. Immediately,
the men around the top of the table begin to toast us and we are invited to
trade them shot for shot of vodka with shouts of “La Chaim (To Life)”.
We all get a little looser and there is a lot of to and fro in
conversation with Arthur undertaking translation as necessary.
Fish is served in a communal dish and we all use our fingers to break
apart the fish and eat.
After
a few more prayers and a ritual of hand washing, more food arrives which is some
kind of gelatin with meat imbedded. Lamb,
generously endowed with fat, very much in the Uzbek tradition, follows this.
Rafael tells me that his family has lived in Bukhara for hundreds of
years, as have the families of almost every man in the room.
Dinner
ends somewhat abruptly after delicious local melons and watermelons are served
and Suleiman asks us to stay awhile. We
sit down with Mila as interpreter and while members of his family are clearing
the table he tells us that he
will be emigrating to New York in a
week’s time.
He possesses a degree in food technology but he
is divorced, his wife and children are living in Israel and his brothers and
sisters have all gone to New York. Suleiman’s
elderly mother and some of her grandchildren join us.
He is leaving, not because there is anything wrong with life in Bukhara,
but because so much of his family has
departed. The
Diaspora continues. We spend an
hour exchanging stories of our own lives, each so different.
Yet we are linked and bonded by our common humanity and our common
heritage. As we take leave of our
new friends, Suleiman’s mother blesses us, thanks us for coming and tells us
that God sent us here. We are
touched and humbled.
The following day we are invited to Suleiman’s home for lunch and we spend some time looking over his home. His niece, a thoroughly modern dental student with excellent English is our translator. We eat a quick lunch and are offered a tour of the inside of his family’s house where we see old family photographs adorning the walls.