Visiting my family in Israel this summer, I had a privilege of listening once more to stories about Tunisia, where my mother‘s family came from and to again appreciate the blessings that come with your beginnings. We sat on a spacious balcony at my grandmother’s nursing home, enjoying the Wonderful shade of the trees and eating plums and apricots, as the stories unfolded like a familiar and most cherished melody.
As always, I was fascinated by these stories. Many of them I already knew, but some where new stories about my mother’s childhood into Tunisia and about my grandfather’s yearnings to immigrate to Israel; stories about the family’s hardship when circumstances brought drastic changes in their lives, and how they struggled to make the most out of each new beginning along the way.
The family was very wealthy, my grandmother, Allegra, said. My grandfather, Soul, was a jeweler who’s jewelry was all made from 18 karat gold, not delicate, but massive, bulky and unbelievably beautiful. My mother, Dina, still wears some of this jewelry; even as a baby, she wore around her ankle a massive piece of golden bracelet. They were the only family in Gabe’s, the city in which they lived, that had a piano at home. The house was always filled with people of all kinds, Muslims as well of Jews, and my grandfather used to improvise on the piano the Arabic tunes he heard on the radio. The family ordered their China from Portugal, and each meal was a feast.
But then, my grandmother said, Rommel’s soldiers invaded like thunder in the clear blue sky. In 1943, the French government of Vichy permitted the Nazis to impose their destructive fury upon the Jews of Tunisia. During those seven horrifying months of Nazi occupation, the Jews suffered Pogroms, were forced into hard labor and were sent to a consecration camp that was hastily built in the area. However, most haunting was the change in the attitude of the Muslim neighbors. Friends became foes. My family, like many other Jewish families, soon flight to a small city in the south of Tunisia, to the caves of Matmata. The caves are located at the very bottom of huge crater-like holes in the ground, many feet below ground level, there is a cluster of human-made caves carved into soft, chalky soil. Many centuries ago, in these cases, the barbarians were taking shelter from the Romans, Vandals, and Arabs who attacked the city. More recently, the area was used as the filming location for Star Wars in which it featured the home of Luke Skywalker in the planet Tetooine. Nowadays it is an exotic tourists location. My family found refuge there while horrific sounds of explosions continually blasted the air. The caves of Matmata symbolized a new chapter, a new beginning in the life of my family, after which it was decided to immigrate to Israel. Only recently the Jews of Tunisia finally recognized as Holocaust survivors for the horrors they suffered during Second World War, and my grandmother received reparations from Germany.
A white, clear canvas was about to be painted in the colors of the mountains and fields of the new land. My mother described the waves, the silver-black, frightening waves she remembers is a child on board the ship that sailed into the port of Haifa. They looked like dark blankets hovering, stretching and curling with the wind. But the first appearance of Mount Carmel in the distance was unforgettable, and the family all gazed in awe; awe that had embraced them in just the short hour, but fulfilled two thousand years of longing.
My family was located in a refugee absorption camp. They had taken almost nothing with them from their home in Tunisia, only the most essential things, and a few pieces of jewelry as a souvenir. Their Tunisian life of ease had been drastically transformed, but they faced their challenges with a deep sense of duty. My mother described the long, long lines of tents in the camp that stretched into the seemingly unending distance. When the rain came, the tents flooded, and the water reached almost the top of the beds. In the winter, metal shacks replace the tents. My mother still remembers the sound of the rain knocking on the metal rooftop.
This new beginning ultimately led to happiness. After two years, the family moved into a small but cozy house. My grandmother tended their little garden, which was filled with fruit trees: pears, peaches, figs, all 100% organic.My grandfather opened a grocery store. He was always happy and content with whatever he had. Even though he was struggling at that time to support his family, a struggle that he never endured as a young man; but he never looked back. They raise chickens, and my grandmother‘s favorite thing was to gently assist the struggling chicks to crack little pieces of their shell and break into the world for their exciting new beginning.
