Babi Yar

 

“Wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar

The trees look sternly, as if passing judgement.

Here, silently, all screams, and, hat in hand,

             I feel my hair changing shade to grey.”   -  

  Yevgeny Yevtushenko  ("Babi Yar" 1961)

 

In 2002, my daughter and I attended a summer program at the University of Vilna, Yiddish Institute. As part of the experience, and to satisfy the burning desire in me to reconnect with our recent family past, we toured the shtetles (Yiddish for small towns) where both my parents came from in Lithuania and Belarus. We also visited the mass graves where some of my young first cousins perished.  We lit a Yahrtzeit candle and recited the “Kaddish.”

Though none of our family members, at least not ones that we are aware of, were murdered in the Ukraine, I decided to go there and visit Babi Yar, the mass gravesite, near Kiev, where many of our Jewish brothers and sisters were brutally massacred (most of the estimated 100,000 victims were Jewish). It was our sole purpose for visiting that country. Beforehand and in a wish to make the visit more meaningful, I taught my daughter the powerful poem “Babi Yar,” which still brings tears to my eyes and from which the above quote is derived.

The eerie feeling that welcomed us as we approached the deep ravine, covered by the “wild grass,” still haunts my sleepless nights. The yelling and crying of men, women and children are still echoed against the walls of the chambers of my heart.  The image of their blood calling us from the ground still blurs my vision.

Unlike 1961, when Yevtushenko wrote his powerfully moving poem, nowadays, there is a monument which stands over Babi Yar. The eternal trees, now, just as during Yevtushenko's days, still “look sternly, as if passing judgement.” Babi Yar is an eternal reminder to my People and, hopefully, a lesson to others, not merely of what “man has made of man.” Rather, for me, it, also, symbolizes how, these days, similarly to other dark chapters in world history, Man has not done enough for his fellow Man when he could and should have. It is an admonition that at the defining moment of Truth, “walking the talk,” the talk of solidarity, support, and freedom is seized by paralysis. It stands to cautiously warn us that a friend in need is not as we are taught, always a friend indeed.

Unfortunately, the chronicles of history have proven to us, time and again, the validity of the words of our wise Jewish sage Hillel, “If I am not for myself, who is for me?”

Hoping and looking forward to better days for all.

Defying the Odds

 He was born as Arkadi. He is now Arik. His twin brother was named Misha. Now he goes by the name Michael.

Arik and Michael came into the world in very unlikely circumstances. They were born in what is known, nowadays, the Ukraine, to a Jewish mother, Dr. Marina Yanovsky and an African Muslim father, Dr. Ibrahim Msengi.

Both their parents attended medical school in the former Soviet Union, during the 1980’s. As Arik likes to describe it, in his witty sense of humour, they “met for a cup of coffee and nine months later he and his twin brother came into the world.”

Well, not exactly the case, as Arik shared with me during our interview.

Marina and Ibrahim were together for five years. When Arik and Michael were one year old, Ibrahim was forced to leave the Soviet Union when he faced difficulties with the renewal of his visa. He returned to his native home in Tanzania.

Marina and their sons lost contact with him. The only shred of validation of him ever being part of their life was the retention of his last name, Msengi.

Though Arik and his brother were aware of the identity of their father, they vaguely knew anything about him. They never missed him nor felt deprived of his presence in their lives. They were showered with warmth and love by their mother, grandmother, and aunt.

Even though, prior to the fall of the iron curtain and the dismantling of the Soviet Union, ethnic and religious affiliations were under suppression, Arik and Michael were raised on a strong Jewish identity. Arik recalls how his grandmother shared with him stories about the Shoah and describes his mother as “Jewish to her core.”

In 1990, Arik, Michael, their mother, and aunt moved to Yisrael and settled in Be’er Sheva. In accordance with the family’s strong Jewish essence, they were finally free to live as Jews and fully connect to the Jewish culture. One of the manifestations of that linkage was when Arik and Michael celebrated their Bar Mitzvah at the Kotel.

Following their discharge from the IDF, Arik and Michael, like many young Yisraelis, decided to take some time off and travel the world. Africa was their first pick. Naturally, Tanzania came into mind and that choice gave birth to their resolve to visit Tanzania and try to trace the whereabouts of their biological father.

Arik Msengi

When the two embarked on that adventure, and found themselves in Dar Es Salaam, the biggest city in Tanzania, they had no clue as to where he might be. Since he was a medical doctor, the twins decided to start looking at the local hospitals and medical clinics in the hope that someone might know or has, perhaps, heard the name Dr. Ibrahim Msengi. Their efforts, so it seemed, produced no results.

However, just as they were about to give up their search, someone mentioned to them that in one of the state’s districts, there was a governor by that same name.

They followed that lead. Needless to mention the surprise that overcame Dr. Msengi when he was told that two young Yisraelis had been asking about him and claimed to be his sons. He was never aware that Marina and their children had retained their Jewish identity and emigrated to Yisrael.

When Arik and Michael arrived at his governor’s manor in the district which their Dr. Msengi controlled, they were dumbfounded. It was situated on a large estate with perfectly manicured gardens which were spotted with different animals roaming freely. Dr. Msengi and his other children, along with their extended family, were waiting for them with open arms. As the, somewhat overwhelmed, young men discovered, their father had been married to a Christian woman (who had passed away) and sired children. It turned out to be a very emotionally charged reunion, one which forged three faiths, Islam, Christianity and of course, Judaism, into one cohesive unit. 

The twins asked to call their mother in Yisrael so that she could also be part of that unexpected occasion. Marina and Ibrahim broke into a” fountain of conversation,” in Russian, their former language of communication. They finally had the opportunity to catch up after all these years.

Arik and Michael stayed at the manor for a while. Their father took them on excursions around the county and showered them with love and attention. Following their departure, they vowed to never lose contact with each other. He even visited them in Yisrael a few times and loved it.

For the last twelve years, Arik has been working as a tour guide, specializing in Africa. He learned to speak Swahili and considers Tanzania his second home. Michael moved to Tanzania, married a local woman and through a company that he set up there, represents western interests locally.

What an inspiring story of overcoming challenges, one that hails the victory of determination despite the odds, a story with a cheerful ending, the kind we all year to hear more and more.

May the coming calendar year shower us with many such accounts of reunification with happy outcomes.

Every blessing