Baba Yousef’s story, his “Aliyah” to Israel from Urmia on a three-year journey through Iraq, in the 1920s. Published by Deborah Dor in the newspaper “Al Hamishmar” on Friday, 13-1968-page 5.
He curler the silver thread thin, and a form of decoration. He salts him on a gentle little fire “with emotion, because it melts,” and he decorates in silsully-the silver holster for Megilat ester.
In the Bohemian neighborhood of Jerusalem, in his shop, the goldsmith-Baba Yosef-between jewelry, cups, tear-book grenades, lamps. He learned his craft from his father. And his father — from my father-father-so. A witness who has never been there before. Next to him, sitting in us. And the yarn is also “according to the Pania,” according to the taste. Not according to any examples. ”
Baba Yosef has a story about a story about a land of Persia — the Land of the “Thousand Nights and Nights” stories…
Among bandits
It’s not exactly a prize, and we have our own synagogue in the neighborhood. Our origin is Marizoa (a city named after the Shah). There are about 15 other families there. In the days of my father they called the city of Ormia.
“My father was walking from Beirut to Haifa.” Three days gone. So he went with a bag full of working tools on his back. Our entire ascent lasted for three years. I was a kid–but it’s a big deal.
I implored him to tell and he was very surprised. I think I was interested only in his work. He shows me an English pocket book. Where they write about his art, and there are also pictures of Chanukah in its beauty — everything is practical to boast.
As I took a shot at him, he said: “Our city had a few Zionist men in, 1921 lectures and said:” All the way that he wants to come up, “we had quite a good name, but because of the attraction to the Holy Land, 100 had risen, about 600 a soul, and we were stabbed, who was on the camel and who was on foot until That’s where we stayed for three months. It was the English war that would bomb Iraq’s Kurds. We were brought back and came to some city with Jews, I don’t remember which, I was a little boy.
We continued to move. There have been some families inviting donkeys or camels. They would be loading objects, children or women. Thus, by appointment and alternating. It’s me remembering like today. We had both joy and crying. Joy – who rises to the ground; We used to dance and sing in the evenings. On the other hand, they cry and juggle because of a camel’s appointment, because of illnesses, a sunburn. And even death. Death happened to us too: I had a little brother, a six-year-old baby. Would sit with mom on the camel in such a buggy. And here, the camel turned on a stone. The baby sabotage and died, he was buried somewhere.
At night we were boys outside. Several times there were Arab bandits and looting. We were burying before bedtime and the money and jewels everywhere we would rest like this every family. And in the morning we would take them out and continue on our way. This is how it lasted for three years.
Baba carries his eyes to the thin flame at the end of the tube. A winged flame like a pillar of fire. Yes, it was. The Exodus. “More than that, it was a rise to the rise…”
About the girl-“Narkis”
“Father, a book about the Armenian girl-Narkis” — turns to him in his son — Samson. Son, about thirty years old. Graduated from high school and continued with the art of his ancestors.
You tell me, you have a better Hebrew. What I remember from my father’s stories is you also heard from him and me. But again we consented in Baba Yusef – a man of the Blackzade, a string at the edge of the army, and a story:
In the days of the first world of the time, we had many months without bread. There were gunfire in the streets, and unemployment. Yes, there was no war, but the Russian came in and out. Their Turkish grandchildren and leaves were left. We used to live on raisins. But that’s not the point. There were events in our city. Spilled large Armenian blood, which are created. Muslims called for war against all Christians. Such pogroms were also the Jews hiding inside the houses and putting large stones near the doors.
True, disturbances were only against Christians, but on wealthy Jews were both rioting and killing. Just to rob. I would see Armenian bodies on the streets, a lot like flies. I will not forget this whole life.
My father, who was a goldsmith, would travel to the villages to sell the merchandise. In one village, he had a room with a a Christian that had a daughter — Narkis. They were afraid to live in a village between Muslims. My parents gave them my mother and sister clothes. They were looking and moved in with us. One day the Arabs announce the Jews: enough, we’ve eliminated all the Armenians, you’re free to rob their property. When the rural woman heard that interference was over, she rushed to the village to eliminate her property. As my parents asked her to wait, she did not agree. Just left the girl. The woman killed immediately. We have the Narkis, like our daughter. It’s not just us. It is many Jews who save Christians.
When finally it was quiet. One Christian professor stood up. I don’t remember exactly who he was, but we called him “Propysor”. He collected all the refugees, and my father gave him the Narkis.
It’s been two or three years. And suddenly a Turkish officer came to town. And he starts asking everyone where the Jewish-righteous lives (that was my father’s name). My father heard and listened. One day the officer came to our workshop. Ask: “Are you the Righteous Jew?” My father saw a Muslim — and he panicked horribly. It was not enough to think much, and the officer was on his neck and kissing and hugging and crying and kissing my father’s beard and saying, “I came in the name of Narkis.” She didn’t forget you. “We got married…” Yes, that’s it: “Muslim and marry a Christian…”
200 meters from “Ammunition Hill”
Country? Feels good. It’s been 40 years. But we’ve suffered a lot. Right, our neighborhood was always in danger. We are 200 meters from “Ammunition Hill”. That’s how I lost my son. He was nine years old. One day, during the war of Independence, a shell was raised. Here, here-here, around. I found one hand in one place, and a leg somewhere else. He’s buried. “That’s how it is, that there will be a real peace.”
And the father with his son continued to intertwine a silver thread for the decoration of Ashkenazi Torah scrolls: Crowns and pomegranates, and of Spanish: a fancy coating of silver armor for the book’s Wooden cases; And objets d’art for women and household objects. “The Prime Minister has invited gifts to us before we go abroad, and we have made these maps,” says the son. The decorations and the sillilim are a resemblance without an example.
The stories, but they are–according to reality…