Jerusalem of Above and Jerusalem of Below

No matter how holy a city, commercialism
rules.

After already having fulfilled the standard verse of "next year in Jerusalem", I took it one step further last Thursday night. I went along to the opening ceremony of the Maccabiah - the World Maccabi Sports games, an International competition where around 7,000 Jews from around 70 countries compete against each other. It is a kind of mini-Olympics, where past and future Olympians compete along-side amateurs. I last attended this ceremony 20 years ago, as a teenager. But I digress, the special part was the opening ceremony itself, which more or less started with the singing of Hatikva, the Israeli National Anthem. Singing this for probably the first time as an adult, in a crowd of 35,000 people, in the capital of the Jewish people (as the prime-minister told us on the night - Israel is not a country belonging to the Israelis, it belongs to all Jews).

Going Home

I am about to embark on what is likely to be my last flight this year – the one that will take me to my homeland and hopefully fulfil a dream of almost 20 years. I have spent much of this year doing travel related things: packing up one home of 11 years and one of 2 years (not to mention packing and unpacking through two temporary homes); I have spent more time in airports this year, than even I, as a pilot, thought I would – about to embark on my 40th flight of the year (not counting ones I piloted myself) and my 7th intercontinental one; I have destroyed 2 suitcases and lost numerous items along the way. But now, I am going home – I hope.

This will be the second goal fulfilment this year – the first one being the opportunity to work in a humanitarian aid situation. Done and dusted (but of course, maybe it could be different next time?)

I approach this with much trepidation – so much more than going to Denmark or Senegal. I go without a solid home and without a job, but because I want to. On and off for 19 years I have been thinking about this. Reliving childhood memories of fun, friendships and freedom. Yet I go back with the expectation of hard times, a large pay cut, and still being thousands of miles away from my family. I am excited though – I know opportunities will await and there will be a life to live. It has been nice to be able to say: לשנה הבאה בירושלים (next year in Jerusalem), and actually mean it. It has been nice to think that, although I have rarely been directly affected by anti-semitism in the past, now, I will be living in a place where my government does something about it. I look forward to feeling my religion, rather than just practicing it. I look forward to going home.

258km in 6 hours - The Road to Saint Louis

One restored building, and its mirror image across the street, 'about' to be restored

No, I haven't made it over to Missouri, USA. I have just headed up to a town which provides a strong reminder of the French presence in the area. Both because the town was named after the French king at the time (but seriously, to add 'Saint' in front, does seem a little obnoxious), and also because of the fact that Saint Louis served as the capital of French West Africa for over 2 centuries. The town, another one of Senegal's UNESCO World Heritage Listed sites is part crumbling to bits, and part remnants of its colonial past.

Above: Silting from the artificial break in the sand banks is very evident.
Below: the locals enjoying some colonial shade.

A Wandering Jew in Berlin

Walking along the East Side Gallery - a remaining part of the Wall

With tens of thousands of Jews living in Berlin now, I wonder to myself a little bit, "why?". While I wonder that, I think others may wonder why Jews even want to visit the city. However, Berlin is, on the surface at least, an extremely multicultural city now with people of all different sorts of colours and backgrounds roaming around. On the one hand, it's hard to imagine the horrors of 20th century, but on the other hand, walking through Berlin, it's hard to forget them too.

Diving the Red Sea

The Negev - like the Australian outback, but with hills and cliffs!

My three day trip to Eilat was as much about relaxing at home, as it was finally getting to dive in the Red Sea. With 3 other countries in clear sight, one still feels as if one is clearly in Israel, and not necessarily some international resort. Of course there is no shortage of foreign languages being spoken, but Hebrew still dominates (and Russian isn't that far behind). I don't remember Eilat that much from my previous visit around 20 years ago, just bits and pieces. But I'm sure it has grown and changed quite a lot - the bits I do remember, were the same.

Walking in Their Footsteps - Part 2

I have an old photo, from 1925 (+/- a year) of 2 of my grandfather's sisters at the grave of their father, Yitzchak ben Shaul HaLevi. The grave is in the old Jewish cemetery in Rokiskis. I know that around 10 years ago, my grandfather returned to Rokiskis but was unsuccessful in finding the particular grave of his father. I had the same quest, but figured it would be nice to find the grave of any one in the Ruch or Bacher family. Apart from the problem I'll mention in a second, I knew this would be hard because firstly the headstones would be engraved in either Yiddish, Russian or Lithuanian. And secondly, many inscriptions would not have family names, but just their Hebrew names (X son of Y). The real problem was the state of the cemetery. I had been warned about it, and a good article I was led to an article turned out to be a very accurate description of the place. Some more information can be found at here and at Shtetlinks (though the photos in those linked sites show the cemetery in a slightly better condition than I found it).

Walking in Their Footsteps - Part 1

For a long, long time, I have wanted to visit the places my family come from. All my direct ancestors left their respective homelands on their own free will, but only when they realised things weren't in their favour, and life would be better elsewhere. A few more years and they would have ben more desperate to leave, or, I shudder to think, would have been caught up in the mess of WWII like so many others were.

My maternal grandfather's family hails from a small town in North-Eastern Lithuania called Rokiskis - it also happens to be the capital of the region by the same name. This is where my grandfather was born and lived until he left for South Arica with his mother and three sisters at the ripe old age of 9, in 1929. His two brothers had already emigrated years earlier, as children.

More Killing Fields

It seems as though Rokiskis (probably like Lithuania as a whole) prefers to forget about its Jewish heritage, and I do wonder whether it is due to a sense of guilt. There is very little commemoration of the Jewish population which was decimated. And I mean that there is nothing around, neither in their memory, nor to commemorate their contributions. When it does come to the massacre sites outside of town, without external help, the lack of signage means it would be practically impossible to locate them.

The Bajorai site from the mosquito infested parking spot.

Paneriai

One of the very few signs leading visitors to the memorial site.

On my way from Vilnius to the northern town of Rokiskis, I took a small detour to the site of the Paneriai massacres. Paneriai can be classified as a suburb of Vilnius - right on the outskirts. In my drive to the site I passed multiple signs telling me I was leaving and then re-entering the city. During pre-Nazi Soviet times, large oil storage facilities were under construction, but the Nazi invasion put a halt to this. When the Germans saw the site, with a bunch of 'pits' already dug out ready for storage tanks, they decided it already fulfilled the criteria of a mass grave. Additionally, there is a railway station right on site, and the whole area was forested in 1940 (and much of it still is today), making a perfect sight and sound barrier from the outside world where executions could take place.

Proud to be Jewish

My brief glimpse of the Jerusalem of Lithuania has made me feel ever so proud to be a Jew, yet ever so ashamed to be a member of the human race. Learning about the Holocaust and WWII is nothing new to me, nor is being in the locations where atrocities took place. But something about my short time in Vilnius has had as much an effect on me as visiting Aushwitz & Birkenau. Maybe it is because I am older and wiser this time around, or maybe because it feels that much closer to home. But why proud to be Jewish? I'm proud to be a part of such a resilient people, and despite the fact that I can't claim any credit for it, part of a people which contributes positively to this world (despite what at times, the world does to it) in unbelievable disproportionate amounts - and it's not just the ~20% of Nobel prize winners who are Jewish, but in the every day things that are done to make this world a tolerable place to live.

No need to read the detail - the overview is clear enough!

Despite various forms of persecution, Jews lived and flourished in Lithuania since the 14th century like in no other European country. The persecution they faced here over the years was probably not nearly as bad as in some of the other European countries, but it seems like for the most part, they were not treated the same as other citizens. Thankfully though, there were times, in the more recent history prior to the Wars, where the Jews were allowed to live fairly independently. This, perhaps, was a priveledge they would have never experienced anywhere else. They were a significant part of the population in nearly every single town throughout the country, and in many, formed the majority of people. An important part of Jewish culture developed here, and now, there remains not but a shadow of what once existed.