By Messiah Ben Nisan Mashiah
In order to preserve the tradition of the Nash-Didan community, and perhaps to contribute some information about the roots of this precious community, I would like to put in writing the story of my family’s immigration to the Land of Israel, as I heard it from my late grandmother, Navat Mashiah, my uncle Yaakov Mashiah, and my father, Nisan Mashiah, of blessed memory.
I learned from a reliable source about research that had been conducted. The Nash-Didan were an ancient Jewish tribe that, more than a thousand years ago, reached a region on the border of Azerbaijan and Georgia, particularly the Urmia area, including its surrounding villages and towns. The tribe preserved Jewish tradition and the Nash-Didan language, an Aramaic language—the ancient language of the Children of Israel, spoken throughout the generations. It should be emphasized that the community guarded the Jewish religion zealously in order not to assimilate and disappear.
Their lives underwent many upheavals and wars. During 1914–1918 the region changed hands among the Turks, Russians, and Kurds, and as a result pogroms were carried out against Jewish homes, with some Jews murdered with great brutality. This situation led the heads of many families to decide to immigrate to the Land of Israel despite the many difficulties involved, as I will describe below.
It should be noted that most Jews of Urmia and the surrounding area, in addition to their own language, knew the Hebrew language and wrote in Rashi script. They also knew Turkish Azeri. Children studied in unsuitable places and under difficult conditions, with the sage teaching the Pentateuch orally and in Rashi script.
My grandfather Mashiah, of blessed memory, and my grandmother Navat Mashiah, of blessed memory, married in Urmia and had four children: the eldest, Yokheved, followed by Yaakov, Miriam, and Nisan, may their memories be a blessing. In Urmia my grandfather’s family name was Shah-Peri. He was a cloth merchant who, together with his partner Abraham, a relative, managed to support the family with dignity. At times they were away from home for days or weeks, traveling on foot or on horseback to nearby villages and towns to buy and sell merchandise.
In time my grandfather Mashiah became seriously ill at a relatively young age. Medical treatment was extremely inadequate, to put it mildly. A man named Sheikh Abdullah, whom people trusted, helped with natural medicines, but to no avail. My grandfather died while my grandmother was pregnant with my father Nisan. My father always emphasized to us that he had never known his father at all. Following my grandfather’s death, the business collapsed and the family fell into financial hardship. My grandmother therefore worked cleaning houses and baking bread for those who could afford to pay. Bread was baked under extremely difficult conditions, all so that she could support her children, who were too young to contribute to the family income.
My grandmother Navat Mashiah was a wise and experienced woman. She raised her children as both father and mother. Her children and grandchildren admired and respected her, and she was in fact the head of the family. I was privileged to be her grandchild and was named after her late husband. She educated me in honesty, faith, good manners, and devotion. As a child, I listened for entire nights to her stories about her life in Urmia until she reached Jerusalem. Sadly, she died after the establishment of the State in 1949, leaving a great void.
In 1918–1919, as murders and pogroms increased, several families decided to immigrate to the Land of Israel despite their awareness of the difficulties involved. My grandmother Navat Mashiah therefore decided, together with her children, who were already in their twenties, to undertake the arduous journey from Urmia on donkeys and partly on foot. From time to time they paid a considerable sum to a guide with a horse-drawn wagon to cross the difficult land route, which involved many dangers. They were often robbed by armed bandits, and the very guide who was supposed to protect his passengers sometimes cooperated with the robbers.
The journey lasted about two years. From time to time they had to stop in cities such as Maragheh, Kermanshah, Hamadan, and others, because of chronic shortages of money that prevented them from continuing. In some places Jewish communities supported them and helped them on their journey.
In 1920–1921 they reached Baghdad, Iraq, unable to continue because of their severe financial condition. They were also helped by the Jewish communities in Baghdad, but nevertheless had to remain there and work for five years in order to stabilize their finances and save enough money to finally reach the Land of Israel and holy Jerusalem, toward which they had looked for generations.
In 1926 they traveled through Aleppo in Syria directly to Tiberias, where they stayed for several weeks, their destination being holy Jerusalem. They continued their journey and reached Jerusalem, where they stayed at a yeshiva in Mea Shearim. They were given lodging and hot meals until representatives of the Zionist administration received them and arranged housing for them in the Old City. During registration, the clerk refused to accept our family name, Shah-Peri, and asked to register us as Mizrahi. The family objected and requested that the family name be registered after my grandfather Mashiah, and thus our family has been known as Mashiah to this day.
After settling in, and following a difficult period, the brothers Yaakov and Nisan Mashiah rented a small shop in the Old City and made a living selling underwear and socks, a business then known as haberdashery. In 1929 riots began, and Arabs attacked Jews in the Old City. As a result the family left its home and moved to the Bukharim neighborhood, where they rented rooms. The family became divided and their source of income was temporarily interrupted.
The brothers decided to learn the craft of goldsmithing. A relative named Shem-Tov, who had also lived in Urmia and immigrated to the Land of Israel, gave them the opportunity. Within a reasonable time they became skilled in the trade and decided to become independent. They opened a shop in partnership with a skilled craftsman named Hakham Yaakov Cohen. The Mashiah brothers, together with Hakham Yaakov Cohen, worked diligently and succeeded in establishing themselves and prospering.
In 1931 my father’s loyal friends decided that it was time for him to establish a family, and they arranged a match with my future mother, Sarah Mansuf, the eldest daughter of a family that had come from Tiflis, now Tbilisi, Georgia. It turned out that there too was a small Nash-Didan community whose members decided to immigrate to the Land of Israel. They made a difficult and arduous journey to Istanbul, Turkey. After staying there for a time, they traveled in an unseaworthy ship to the port city of Jaffa. They too were assisted by representatives of the Zionist administration, who received them, transferred them to Jerusalem, and arranged for them to live in a single room in the Bukharim neighborhood.
My father married Sarah, daughter of the Mansuf family, in a large wedding attended by members of the Nash-Didan community in the famous Agagan courtyard. In accordance with tradition, the families celebrated for seven days and nights, and my grandmother Navat Mashiah was the dominant figure whose word prevailed. Incidentally, most of the residents of this building were Nash-Didan, and the courtyard served as a venue for community celebrations. In later years contractors demolished the building and constructed another in its place.
My father’s and his brother’s financial situation improved greatly, and the business flourished to such an extent that paid workers were added to help produce goods for prestigious shops in the city and beyond. On my mother’s side, my grandfather Elkabetz Mansuf and grandmother Mazal Tov raised seven children—two daughters and five sons. My grandfather worked for a long period as a construction laborer, and when he became ill he was employed at the Frumin factory, where cakes were baked and distributed throughout the country. Since there was not much work, he was employed only two days a week, which severely affected the family’s livelihood.
As noted above, many families from the community immigrated to the Land of Israel, reached Jerusalem, and settled in the neighborhoods of Sanhedria, Shmuel HaNavi, Beit Yisrael, and Shimon HaTzadik, and of course in the Bukharim neighborhood. Everyone knew everyone else, and some were relatives.
In time Mr. Emmanuel Nisan decided to build a synagogue for immigrants from Urmia. In 1927–1928 a small synagogue consisting of two rooms was built, and all those who had come from Urmia prayed there. It quickly became overcrowded, so Emmanuel Nisan traveled throughout the country to collect donations, and the large Yavne Synagogue was built in its place. It could accommodate more than one hundred worshippers, while the small synagogue became the women’s section.
It is worth noting that those Nash-Didan who worked in construction to earn their livelihood volunteered throughout the summer months, after their working hours, to build the synagogue. Their contribution was enormous, since fundraising was limited and it was difficult to recruit paid workers.
On the High Holy Days and many festivals, many worshippers had to sit in the synagogue courtyard because there was not enough room. The community flourished in those days, and the synagogue fostered cohesion and unity. A choir of young members of the community was even established to perform sacred songs. One of the pillars of the synagogue was Hakham Yishai, whom everyone called Molam Yishai in the community’s language. He too had arrived from Urmia with the immigration wave and served as cantor and Torah reader. He became especially known for his Torah classes, which captivated the worshippers. He enlivened his sermons with parables, and his audience greatly appreciated his ability to draw young people closer, educating them in Torah, commandments, and good deeds.
My father, of blessed memory, was in constant contact with Hakham Yishai, who was often invited to our home for Sabbath meals. During the British Mandate he was asked by the Hebrew University to translate the Torah into the community’s language, and this Torah scroll is still held at the Hebrew University. Sadly, he died in 1946, leaving a great void in the community and the synagogue.
In 1944, when my mother was pregnant, her father Elkabetz became ill and underwent surgery. A few days after the operation he died, leaving young children behind. One tragedy followed another: two years later my grandmother Mazal-Tov died of cardiac arrest, and my mother had to care for her younger siblings in addition to her own children. During the War of Independence in 1948 her younger brother Siman-Tov was killed, and my mother mourned the fate of her family for years. My father stood by her, supported her greatly, and also provided financial support for her orphaned brother and sister.
With the establishment of the State and the War of Independence in 1948, the younger generation left Jerusalem because of a severe shortage of employment. Meanwhile, the generation that had immigrated from Urmia and its surroundings gradually diminished. Over the years many died, while others moved from Jerusalem to Holon and Tel Aviv. The community was left with only a few families, and consequently the large Yavne Synagogue also became nearly empty, with only a few worshippers remaining.
My father, Nisan Mashiah, took upon himself the roles of synagogue treasurer and sexton. For more than fifty years he cared for all the needs of the community and the worshippers. Morning and evening prayers, Sabbaths, and festivals continued, with my father personally attending to every worshipper, even when he was ill and confined to bed.
In 1990 my mother Sarah Mashiah was seriously injured in a traffic accident. Her condition deteriorated thereafter, and she became confined to her home. In 1995, during Hanukkah, she lost consciousness and died a few days later. My father also became ill in 1990 and was intermittently confined to his sickbed for six years. He endured great suffering and died in 1996, sixty days after my mother’s death, because he found it difficult to survive without her.
I must emphasize that my dear parents lived in a true and sincere partnership for more than sixty years. They had four sons and two daughters: I, Mashiah; Bracha; Elkabetz; Zevulun; Yosef; and Navat, who was named after my grandmother and later added the name Nava.
In November 2000 my brother Elkabetz died after being confined to a wheelchair for several years, may his memory be a blessing.
My late father refused to leave Jerusalem despite the difficulties and continued to care for the affairs of the community voluntarily. My brother and I built our lives in Jerusalem, and today we all have children and grandchildren and live happy and fulfilling lives.
After my father’s death, I asked Mr. Shmuel Moshe (Mosouei) to take on the position of treasurer of Yavne Synagogue, and I was pleased that he accepted. At that time only two members of the community remained at the synagogue: Mr. Shmuel Moshe and my cousin Yaakov Nisani. I therefore handed over to them all the funds belonging to the synagogue that my father had accumulated and saved over the years. Although donations to the synagogue were meager, my father ensured that its expenses remained minimal, while the family took care of cleaning and maintaining the synagogue.
In time, the money my father left was placed in a savings plan. In 2001, Shmuel Moshe, the treasurer, and I decided to renovate the synagogue after many years of neglect. A thorough renovation was carried out, and the synagogue received a beautiful new appearance.
I am happy and grateful that the synagogue has been documented on the Nash-Didan website. Shmuel Moshe, despite his advanced age, still manages the affairs of the synagogue with dedication. Prayers continue despite the difficulty of assembling a minyan. I bless Mr. Shmuel with long life and hope that he will continue to manage the synagogue’s affairs, thereby contributing to the preservation of the community.
Thank you for the opportunity to put the history of my family into writing, for the continuity of generations to come.