Part I
The story of Miriam, a retired registered nurse, is saturated
with firm faith. She recalls memories from the changing
perspectives of a small girl in Yemen and an adult woman in
Eretz Yisrael, sharing captivating pictures from the
atmosphere of the Yemenite community. The story weaves around
itself as Miriam recalls experiences and anecdotes.
In this chapter: The awakening of the Jews of Yemen to
immigrate to Israel — The journey to the transit camp
at Aden — "The welcome" at Ein Shemer — and how
Miriam's mother saved her children from the teeth of the
secular dragon.
*
I listened to Miriam's story and felt swept up in the life of
the villages surrounding the capital of Sanaa. I observed the
industrious women who rose early to begin the work of
grinding flour. I could hear the grindstones grinding the
grains of wheat. I saw in my mind's eye how the smoke rose
billowing from the wood-burning stoves, one by one, over the
roofs of the houses. The smell of fresh baking tickled my
nostrils and accompanied the groups of men returning from
shacharis. I laughed along with her at the failed
efforts of young women in their attempts to make pitas.
Amused, I listened to the tidbits of humor aimed by the older
women towards the inexperienced younger ones and I followed
their efforts to teach them the secrets of the different
household chores.
Miriam spoke with nostalgia. The yearning was imbedded deep
in the words woven into sentences. She spoke of a way of life
that has been cut off, of a wonderful existence that could in
no way have been transported here. In her opinion, everything
about their life in their small Yemenite town was wonderful.
Together with this, Miriam was and has remained optimistic
the entire time and the same optimism accompanies her in her
life here in Israel.
Miriam worked for forty years as a registered nurse in a
hospital. Now, that she is retired from her job, she allows
herself to share her story with us, which reflects the
lifestyle of the entire community. The story weaves within
itself as Miriam remembers another experience or anecdote
from the lives of Yemen's Jews. It is moving to listen to the
stories, though she strays quite easily from the plot
line.
The Shock
Miriam was only eight when she arrived at the absorption
transit camp at Ein Shemer but when she speaks of life in the
village of her birth, it seems as if she lived there till a
ripe old age. This is because yearning accompanied the people
born in Yemen during the trials of absorption to the Holy
Land, and the yearning continues to accompany them till
today. Yearning for innocence and purity, simplicity and
quality. At every family gathering, conversations revolve
around what had been "there," because "there" life was real,
authentic Yemenite Judaism. The small children used to sit
attentively, swallowing with their eyes the atmosphere
created by the story until they became part of the experience
as if they were really there. It's amazing to see how,
despite the more than 50 years that she's been here, the past
still lives!
For two thousand years the Jews of Yemen dreamt about the
Holy Land. In 1949, their dream was realized with Operation
Magic Carpet. Despite the many hardships en route, they
remained enthusiastic and emotional even when they arrived in
the Holy Land, their hearts' desire. They fell on their faces
to kiss the earth. True, they had arrived at the land of
their forefathers but not to the land of their dreams.
"When we arrived at Ein Shemer," relates Miriam, "we were a
mass of people with no local language, with a different
mentality, and great innocence. Since the beginning of our
exile, we didn't stop dreaming of our return to the land of
Israel, and suddenly we arrived at a place that was so
strange, foreign and hostile. They related to us as if we
were infantile, without feelings or background, who could be
manipulated according to the needs of those who thought they
were the State. There was no time to experience any
heartiness in the welcome.
"In truth, I didn't feel that they were evil but I remember
how in the camp there were controlling women who wandered
around, telling us when to eat, when to drink, what to do,
like babysitters trying to put us on a schedule. The
independent women among us rebelled against the directives,
`We're not eating now,' `We're not doing this or that
now.'
"We would go to the dining room, stand in line and each one
would take his portion to his tent and eat it there, hot or
cold. We received black bread, olives, yellow cheese. I also
remember potatoes boiled in their skins — we'd never
seen such food! My sister-in-law made an omelet with the
yellow cheese. She thought it was some kind of butter and it
stuck and stretched and she couldn't understand what kind of
fat this was. There was some vegetable soup occasionally and
hard- boiled eggs.
"How we longed for a bit of s'chug [hot pepper sauce]
but there wasn't any. We were still using the utensils we had
brought from our homes on the way to Aden. Only later did we
become aware of the kitchen here and its utensils."
With all this, people were happy with their portion for
having arrived in Eretz Yisrael. "I remember happy weddings
in the transit camp. They hung lighting from one end of the
camp to the other and the celebration was great. Despite the
hardships, there was joy at being in Eretz Yisrael. I
remember how hard the winter was that year. The shacks leaked
and barely withstood the whips of snow. Tents tore or flew in
the wind. We suffered from cold but we got used to everything
because always in the background, deep in our hearts, there
was true happiness at being in Eretz Yisrael."
Self-Sacrifice
"We came to the country amid great self-sacrifice. The road
was difficult, unpaved and continued along mountainous animal
paths with many obstacles. In Yemen there was no network of
paved roads, no developed transportation. We rode donkeys, we
traveled on foot, and at night we slept in hostels that were
scattered along the road. In every big city we passed through
(in Yemenite terms, of course), the authorities inspected us
and demanded taxes. This immigration cost us dearly.
"The donkeys were our family property. Some of the children
and all the women rode while the men in our family, who were
my big brothers, walked alongside them. Our father had died
many years previously. In saddlebags, were the tasty
provisions we had prepared: dried fruits, salty cookies and
different foods including meat, all cooked at home and dried
for the way. We prepared for a long journey.
"When it came dinnertime, we would stop in an Arab village on
the way and we asked from the women, in exchange for a fair
payment, only the use of a stove and wood that was in the
yard of every home. They only made pitas in those ovens.
"They earned a nice living from us! We stoked the stoves
ourselves and the women of our family took flour from the
saddlebags, quickly kneaded dough, took challah, threw
it in the stove and we had fresh pitas. We built a bonfire on
which we warmed food which we had taken from home and we all
enjoyed a hot meal with the utensils that we carried with us.
Afterwards, we rested a bit, packed up what we had to and
continued on our way. While we ate, our donkeys sated their
appetite with a portion of hay, which we bought from the Arab
family in whose yard we camped.
"We calculated our route so that before Shabbos we would
always arrive to a "Chan" — a kind of hostel that was
housed in a large roofed building in which emigrating
families gathered, each one for itself. For payment to the
landlord, we received a space to sleep and permission to use
the taboun to bake pitas and to burn fire as needed
for the food on Shabbos that we had brought with us. Thus we
wandered for weeks on end, day and night, until we reached
the transit camp in the city of Aden.
"I won't forget our old grandmother who came with us. She was
very old but it didn't occur to us to leave our old and
beloved grandmother behind, by herself in the village where
she had spent most of her life. My older brother, who became
the protector and guardian for the family after Abba died,
hired a non-Jew with a camel especially to carry Grandma at
the height of comfort that was known to us until Aden. There
the planes awaited us.
"Every time that there was an ascent or a descent — and
there were many — the camel would lean up or down at a
sharp angle and his hump would move back and forth together
with his rider. Then we would hear Grandma yelling to my
brother, 'Shlomo, I'm falling.' My brother made an effort and
bribed the non-Jew with more raisins and almonds and the like
and even promised him a bonus so that he lead the camel
slowly and have pity on the old woman. That was an emotional
moment, which made us, the children laugh but it worried our
family.
"Savta was widowed young and coped alone raising her son (my
father) in difficult times. He told us how during some years
there had been a long period of drought and famine hit with
all its might. Having no choice, Savta got up and went to
look for a place where she could find food for her young son.
She wrapped her belongings in a large bundle and carrying the
child and the bundle, started out to family in a distant
city, a journey of several days. Because she wasn't able to
carry both the child and the heavy bundle at the same time,
she would leave the bundle and carry the child a ways, put
him down and go back to carry the bundle. She did this the
whole way until she finally arrived where her relatives
lived.
"They welcomed her warmly. They felt compassion for the widow
with the little boy and gave her what she needed. Grandma
stayed there and raised my father until things improved. When
the rains of blessing began to fall, she returned to her
village. The difficult years and illness left their marks on
her. It was no wonder that we pitied her on the way to Aden
and we did everything we could to make it easy for her."
[to be continued]
