One Should not be afraid to speak of the Palestinian Naqba

Yom Ha’atzmaoot and what surrounds it has turned into a teasing holy day in recent years. A high-profile memorial service for the terrorist (sorry, for “all victims”) and soon Naqba Day slowly approaching to be commemorated on the same Gregorian calendar date as Yisrael’s Independence Day.

I have no issue with the Palestinian point of view. All they want is to live calmly, cultivate their land and slaughter the Jews like any normative nation that is contented with its lot. One can understand their anguish at the fact that they have been deprived of that right. Likewise, one can understand the crocodile’s disappointment when the antelope fled and now it is left without breakfast. It is also easy to understand how difficult it was for the Nazis to witness their dream to destroy the Jews shattering in front of their very eyes when the Russians and Americans liberated the camps. It must have really hurt. It is alright. This is how they see it when the stress is on the word “see.” The problem begins when the victim starts sliding from understanding to empathy and from there justifying those who come to slaughter him and his family. How unfortunate is the crocodile, perhaps I should give him half of my derriere? I will manage. I will sit on my side.

There is no doubt that the Palestinians have experienced a tragedy. So did the Nazis. Mistaken is the person who does not think that the next stage is a joint and flattering Yom Hashoah for “all victims.” It will happen. The deranged ones among us will ensure it does.

The Yisraeli empathy towards the Palestinian failure is a twisted version of the American and European guilt feelings regarding colonialism. We copied it, albeit as a response to the wrong question. The Yisraeli sees himself as a cavalier who is destoying a Native American village and stealing its land or hauling Africans to a slave ship. Except, in this case, it is just the opposite, Watson. Here we are the Native Americans, the one in a thousand cases in which the intended victim was able to overcome the murderous attacker and push him back.

Hungary and Slovakia refuse, and tenaciously, to accept Muslim immigrants. Anyone who is incensed at them for not partaking in the festival of European guilt feelings towards anyone whose skin is slightly darker than theirs, does not know that there, the story is different: Hungary was conquered and enslaved, in the past, by the Turkish Muslims who pushed them northward and only after many generations were liberated by the Austrians. The Hungarians and the Slovaks never conquered one centimeter of Africa or Asia and did not burn Native American villages. Neither did we. They do, however, remember what happened to them five hundred years ago. We, on the other hand, have forgotten what happened to us merely seventy years ago. The fact that we are successful at constantly our neighbours’ plan to destroy us, does not make us conquering colonialists in the microscopic tiny piece of land resting at the heart of 13 million square kilometres which are inhabited by 300 million Arabs.

What characterizes the Arab – Yisraeli wars is its totality. One side comes out with a declared goal to destroy the other side entirely. Not winning, not subduing, not imposing demands of conditions or to conquer land. Annihilate everyone to the last one. They lost? They deserve it. Suffering, let them do some reflections, learn from their mistakes and rebuild their lives. Damn, a thousand organizations and states funnel aid and assistance, incessantly, solely for that purpose. The Palestinians, though, have for four generations have been making a living off misery and at the same time refuse to give up the dream of extermination They refuse to disembark this monstrous idea. They are already lying on the ground with broken limbs, without teeth and, still, what preoccupies them is not getting to the emergency room but instead obstinately insists “now, I will really kill them.” Just like the dark knight of Monty Python.

On Yisrael’s Independence Day, one should not be intimidated to talk about the Palestinian Naqba. On the contrary, it should be taught quite openly. Here once stood an Arab village. Its residents fled because of a war that Arabs started. Here was another one and now stands in its place a flourishing Jewish town, founded by the ones destined to an impeded slaughter. Ah, and there, too, was some small village. Alas, what can one do? This is the fate of the villain that muddles with Yisrael.

Sorry, dear world, the show is over. Sorry, dear neighbours but the slaughter of the Hevron Jews, the slaughter of Zefati Jews, khybar, khybar Ya Yahud and the eradication of an entire Jewish entity, raping and forcefully Islamizing its women and children – all this will only remain in your harsh nostalgic rhymes. And from year to year, as Yisrael gets stronger and mightier, this is getting less and less attainable. Sad, but c’est la vie.

A Little Known Genocide

History has been laced with genocides. Some, however, received much coverage and are known to many, albeit by name only.

But few, so it seems, know about the first genocide of the 20^th century, the one that took place not on European soil and by members of the Second Reich, a few decades before the rise of Hitler.  I am referring to the genocide committed against the Herero Tribe of Namibia, a genocide that left them close to extinction.

I recently spent a couple of weeks with members of the Herero Tribe. What a wonderful experience it was. I visited their villages, their homes and their schools. They are generally happy people, hospitable and polite. Looking at them, it would be hard to trace any hint of the fact that merely two generations ago, attempts were made to rid the world of them and their beautiful heritage.

That is why I set out to learn as much as I could about this little known atrocity, share it and educate others about it.

For that, I will have to take you, the readers, back in time to 1884. That year, the German Chancellor Otto von Bismarck assembled what has come to be known as “The Berlin Conference.” Its purpose was to determine the future of the African continent. As part of it, Bismarck designated South West Africa as part of the German Empire and suitable for settlement.

 

Following that declaration, the Germans began to appropriate more and more land from the local population while at the same time introducing laws and policies aimed at limiting and restricting it. One of the reasons that the presence of the Second Reich was moderately tolerated in that part of the world was because in many instances, its representatives acted as intermediaries between feuding tribes. However, as it turns out only when it suited them. The treaties they engineered were dubious, ambiguous and drawn merely to serve their interests. According to Dutch historian Jan-Bart Gewald, the German colonial governor “Leutwein, gladly offered military support to controversial chiefs, because violence and land seizure among Africans worked to his advantage.”

 In the early days of the German colonial venture in Namibia, the Herero People which, along with other tribes, were part of Namibia’s indigenous population, were still strong both economically and socially and were thus able to fend off German colonization efforts.  The Rimferpest plague which struck their herds in 1897,though, left them fragile both economically, as it destroyed their main source of wealth, as well as physically since it shuttered their source of protein.

That, however, did not prevent from the Herero to stand firm against the endeavours by the Germans to take over their land. By 1904, tensions rose to a peak and under the leadership of their paramount chief, Samuel Maherero, the Herero rebelled against the Germans, a rebellion that turned into a full-fledged war in which 123 Germans were killed. Kaiser Wilhelm II sent thousands of troops to fight the reels. The Herero were defeated and fled to the Kalahari Desert, where many were left to die of hunger and thirst.

What, to me, was the most devastating part of this whole chapter was that all members of the Herero and other tribes that the Germans came across, men women and children, were sent to concentration camps where they were used as slave labour to build railways and buildings which can still be seen throughout Namibia.

According to an article published by the BBC in 2011, German scientists collected skulls of Herero members, and shipped them to Germany “to perform experiments seeking to prove the racial superiority of white Europeans over black Africans.” 

This, of course, helped plant the “seeds for the Nazi genocidal ideology which was later followed up by similar research of other “inferior” groups by the likes of Dr. Mengele and his ilk.

Judaism and Slavery

As some of you know, I have recently returned from a trip to some parts of Africa.

Each time I visit that continent, I cannot help but recall that dark chapter of its history, the one relating to the slave trade. An estimate of 12 million slaves entered the Atlantic Trade between the 16^th and 19^th centuries, according to the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade database. Many died on board the ships that carried them and those that survived were subject to horrendous treatment upon arriving in the New World.

Slavery is an old practice that was prevalent in the ancient world. It is first mentioned in the Hamurabi Code of Laws. Even the Tanach addresses the issue, though overall, it opposes such a practice as reflected in Leviticus 25:55 “for the Israelites belong to me as servants. They are my servants, whom I brought out of Egypt. I am the LORD your God.” Personal freedom is considered a prime value in Jewish Scriptures and is even given a special recognition in the first of the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20:2 “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.”

Moreover, Torah laws forbid the theft of people for the purpose of selling them as slaves (Deuteronomy, 24:7). Whoever engages in such antics is sentenced to death (Exodus 21:16). The law mentioned in Deuteronomy 23:16 which forbids the surrendering of an escaped slave, back to his or her owner, is an exception in the ancient near east and is unique to Judaism.

The Hebrew word for “slave” is eved and is derived from the word La’avod (to work). It means “a non-paid worker.” Slaves, according to the Torah, are the property of their owners until the time of their release.

Unlike modern day slavery (which unfortunately we still witness in some parts around the world), in both the Hamurabi Code and the Tanach, it is a form of paying debts. A person who was unable to pay off his or her debt would give one of their family members to the lender as a payoff. Both sources believe that it is a way to restore the debtors to their previous status in a “more dignified” manner and can be done by court order only.

One of the differences between the two sources is that the “slavery” period is only three years, according to Hamurabi, whereas the Tanach ( Exodus and Deuteronomy) doubled the period to six years probably in an effort to synchronize it with the six working days of the week or the six years before Shmita. That, perhaps, is the reason why, according to the Torah, the master is required to bestow gifts on the slave upon his release.

It is also noteworthy to mention, at this stage, the essential difference between the verses addressing the slave in Exodus and Deuteronomy. Unlike the former, the latter equates male and female slaves which, for ancient times and patriarchal societies was rather unique.

Another difference between the Hamurabi Code and the Torah concerns disobediant slaves. While both discuss branding their ear for following their insubordination and rebellion against their master, the Hamurabi Code is a form of punishment involving the removal of the ear while in the Torah, it merely involves piercing and comes to symbolize “eternal slavery.”

The aforementioned difference is an excellent example of how the Biblical law maker takes an ancient law and bends it to suit the needs, values of the Yisraelite culture of the First Temple era.

Though the above discussion applies only to Hebrew slaves, Maimonides (1138-1205) was the first to address the duty towards the humane treatment of gentile slaves. In his Mishneh Torah (Laws of Slaves 1: 6), he expresses uneasiness with the treatment of gentile slaves which the Torah sanctions to work with “harsh labour” (b'farekh).

It is not in vain that Maimonides is considered the first ever abolitionist.

Let me finish with some of his quotes on slavery which are laced with Tanach quotes, all reflecting his wisdom and compassion in accordance with Jewish Scriptures and moral code:

“It is permissible to have a Canaanite slave perform excruciating labour (farekh). Although this is the law, piety and of wisdom require a person to be compassionate, pursue justice and not to overburden his slaves, or inflict distress upon them.

He should feed them and give them drinks from all his available food and drink. This was the practice of the ancient Sages who would feed their slaves the same dishes that they themselves partook and feed their animals and slaves before they did themselves.

As is written in Psalms 123:2 “As the eyes of slaves look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a female slave look to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he shows us his mercy.”

Similarly, a master should not abuse a slave verbally or physically. Torah only intended work for them, not humiliation. One should speak kindly to them and pay attention to their grievances as Job 31:13-15 states:  

“If I have denied justice to any of my servants, whether male or female, when they had grievance against me, what will I do when G-d confronts me? What will I answer when called to account? Did not He who made me in the womb make them? Did not the same One form us both within our mothers?”  

May we all follow in the footsteps of Maimonides’s prudent and sensible legacy and protect and defend the dignity of Man.

Shabbat Shalom

Forward into the past

                                            

It is not every day that one gets a glimpse, let alone an encounter with a chapter in the history of humanity which for many is merely another lesson in our development passed on to us through the eyes of others. Recently, I was fortunate enough to be part of such an experience and it was an eye opener. It happened during my trip to Tanzania where I visited the Hadzabeh people (AKA Hadza).The experience filled me up with awe and wonderment, intrigued my thrill seeking curiosity, kept me pondering long after our encounter and prompted me to want to learn more about this fascinating group of people.

When our tour guide, Omar, led us through the winding path deep into the Eyasi bush past some breath taking scenery of overwhelming cliffs spectacularly shaped as if carved by some unseen celestial hand, I did not expect anything like what was about to unfold itself to me. Nothing could have ever prepared me for it

There, next to a beautiful tall Baobab tree, sat a group of people, unlike any I had ever seen before. Their bodies were covered with Baboon furs. Some were holding spears while others were adjusting their bows and arrows. Others yet, were busy attending to their recent hunt as they were cooking their next meal over the open fire. This was all going on while the background sound of click like sounds were heard as the men were communicating in their ancient language. I froze in my place dazzled by what I saw. It was all too much to absorb at once

Time stood still in that remote place. And “yes,” I thought to myself, as I was standing there glued to the ground and slowly regaining my senses, the “Gods must be crazy,” indeed. 

                                       Photo by Ophir Horesh                            

                                      Photo by Peter Shaposhnik

                                      Photo by Peter Shaposhnik

                                      Photo by Peter Shaposhnik

“The Hadza number about 1250 people,” Omar explained to us. “They are the smallest tribe in Tanzania. They are a nomadic tribe that originated from the Kalahari Desert in the southern part of Africa. They live as hunters and gatherers as their ancestors had thousands of years ago.” As throughout early human history, the men are the hunters. They are highly skilled and adjust their meat diet to the prevailing, mainly seasonal, conditions. During the dry season, game hunting increases. That is the time where the men spend long hours, mainly at night, waiting near waterholes in hope of shooting animals in search of a drink. The weapons they use for hunting are bows and arrows that are treated with poison extracted from the Adenium Cutaneum shrub. The women are the gatherers and usually bring home berries, honey (which they get from trees and which tastes delicious), baobab fruit (a seed with sour flavor which appealed to my pallet) and tubers such as potatoes and other underground growth. 

                                                                 

                                      Photo by Peter Shaposhnik

Mostly short people whose height averages 4ft (with the tallest ever recorded being 4.8ft), the Hadzabeh are genetically closely related to the Pygmies. They are still in the first stage of human development, or what Omar referred to as ‘Primitive Communalism.” The term, as I later found out was first coined by Friedrich Engels in his book “in Origins of the Family, Private Property and the State.” Though it is not the intention of this article to debate Engels’ book, the theory of which some anthropologists vehemently oppose, its main premise is that in the early stages of human development,  society was largely organized around affinity rather than economic relationships. And that is what Omar wished to convey to us.

“They live in small huts,” Omar continued as he guided us towards their sleeping quarters. Raising his hand in the direction of the nearby mountains, he added, “During heavy rains, they go up to the mountains and live in caves. They practice monogamy. One of their more interesting customs,“ he added, ‘is that of choosing a spouse. The popularity and esteem of a man increases considerably when he shoots a baboon, preferably the leader of the baboon community. That proves to his family and group that he is strong enough to feed them. A matured girl will then hand a necklace on his neck as a sign of being selected by her to be her husband.”

                                                                           

                                                 Photo by Peter Shaposhnik

                                               

“So how do they pass their day once they have eaten, finished making weapons, or processing the skin that they had just stripped off their prey?” I asked Omar.

“They just lay there, smoke Marijuana which they get from local tribes and continue to rest until they are hungry next,” he replied.

The kind of life some may choose, I thought to myself, as we made our way on the rocky path back to the Jeep. Not mine, I decided. But they know nothing else and they are happy, they hurt no one and live peacefully in their community, I debated with myself. At the end of the day, that is what matters.

Out of the Heartland of Africa

                                                                              

A few years ago, I had the honor to join the Massai tribe of Kenya in their country's  Independence Jubilee celebrations.  I was bestowed with the great honor to be a signatory on their Declaration of Independence.  It was an amazing experience which I would like to share with you.



A bumpy, rough road, adorned with breathtaking scenery and laced with the occasional spotting of Africa’s famous wildlife unfurled itself as we made our way into the heartland of Massai Land.  The challenging nine hours trip was expertly negotiated by our very skilled driver of Massai Adventures Safaris Ltd.
Our destination this time was: The Samburu tribe.

The Samburu Tribe is one of the two sub-tribes of the Massai .  The other is Njemps.

You may wonder what a Jewish Israeli woman is doing in such a remote place that is seen by very few outsiders.

Several months ago, I was approached by a friend of the Massai community.  She shared with me that as Kenya was about to celebrate its Independence Jubilee, the Massai expressed a wish to invite an Israeli person in order to receive blessings from Israel and the Jewish people.

It was with great enthusiasm mingled with a large dose of uncertainty that I accepted the invitation. I had heard about the Massai tribe, seen their pictures of beautiful men and women adorned with colorful outfits and magnificent jewelry.  Of course, like many others, I had also heard about their jumping skill.  I had always, also, been intrigued by their ability to adhere to their old traditions and customs despite all the changes that took place in their environment.

 I was somewhat reluctant, though,  I knew no one there.  All the correspondence prior to my departure had been with people I had never met, friends from the virtual world of Face Book and Gmail.  I did not know who or what to expect.  In retrospect, it took much courage to board that plane and embark on a journey towards the unknown. I am glad I did!

Why the Massai wanted a guest from Israel, is probably another question many of you would ask.

Historically and spiritually, the Massai have long considered themselves one of the Lost Ten Tribes of Israel, or Israelites.  In fact the name Massai already appears in Chronicles I Chapter 9 verse 12 : " Adaiah son of Jeroham, the son of Pashhur, the son of Malkijah; and Massai son of Adiel, the son of Jahzerah, the son of Meshullam, the son of Meshillemith, the son of Immer."

And, for those of you wondering, let me hasten and add that they have no desire to immigrate to Israel. They are too busy reclaiming Kenya.

One experience of that visit that keeps bringing a smile to my face is the recollection of me standing in front of one Massai group or another and telling them how happy I was to be with who some of us consider our long lost brothers and sisters. I could just see their faces as their eyes examined me, my light complexion, blond highlighted hair and green eyes and silently saying "you don't say…."

One of the items and customs that the Jews and Massai seem to share in common is the use of the Shofar. The Shofar, usually made of a Ram's horn is blown on special occasions, mainly celebrations, wars and yes, Jubilees. A few more include the separation between dairy products and meat (at least among members of the older generation). Neither do they eat the sciatic nerve per the commandment prescribed in Genesis 32, 26-33.

Though now Christians, mostly Pentecostal, Israel is always in the Maasai's daily prayers. They bless Israel at ever service and at any opportunity. Always.

On one of my visits to their communities, I spent the night in the same room with two elderly Massai ladies.  At the break of dawn, I was awakened by their soft, sweet voices of their melodious prayers. I do not speak Maasai but three words that I heard over and over again clearly explained to me the nature of their utterances: Yesu, Israel, Massai.  They were praying to their messiah asking him to keep Israel and the Massai safe and strong.

I spent a whole week with the Massai in their various communities always teaching them about Israel and the Jewish people.  The conditions were hardly ever ideal. Some of the places we visited did not have running water or electricity.  The very hospitable Massai hosts always served their traditional Kenyan tea and some of their typical food.  I tried to remain as polite as possible and accepted their kind hospitality even though I did not always know what it was I was served or not always certain about the level sanitation practiced by my kind hosts.  Even  on those rare occasions in which we spent the night in a hotel, were far from the zero or one star hotels scattered in our western communities, the conditions were harsh.  Hot waters were a rarity especially on those cold nights when one needed a nice warm shower so badly after a day of driving on the dusty roads inhaling the fumes of the cars ahead.

 Oh, and then there were the mosquitoes, you know, those little flying creatures that can be very dangerous and infect you with some unfamiliar diseases such as Malaria which have long been eradicated from our own western universe.  True, I took all necessary precautions. I had had every possible shot which almost paralyzed both my arms.  I had also equipped myself with all the necessary ointments and medications per my doctor's instructions.  "Still," my doctor warned, "you need to be careful, cover yourself from head to toe and those exposed areas need to be sprayed with mosquito repellant (a rather offensive substance even for humans). And then there was the need to cover one's bed with a net if one were to spend the night in a non – air - conditioned room (which was the case everywhere throughout my visit).  That, however, as it turned out was not the problem since every place pretty much offered one.  I was grateful for the net as I felt it also protected me from other undesirable creatures such as snakes or other bush indigenous inhabitants.

Mosquito watching has never been my hobby or expertise.  However, the fear of being bitten by one, especially since I had difficulties distinguishing between the harmless ones and the Anopheles ones, had certainly turned me into an excellent spotter of them. Practicing mosquito watching, warning others and ensuring that I am fully covered at the mere suspicion of the presence of one made me the laughing stock of a few but when one's life is at risk, who cares?

And did I tell you about the hyenas, especially about the one that had attacked and killed one of the Samburu residents a few years earlier? "But the hyenas and leopards only come at night to hunt for the cattle," I was reassured by one of my hosts.

Would you feel comfortable with such a reassurance?  Perhaps.   I would not.  So having to negotiate my way to my remotely located room on some occasions in the surrounding darkness was anything but fun.

The one time when we did have electricity in one of those up country hotels, it suddenly turned off and, as is almost always, at a time when I most needed it.  It happened one morning when  we were in a hurry to start our long trip back from the Samburu back to Nairobi.  Panic settled in as I was trying to open the door to my room in order to get whatever slivers of light the waking dawn could offer me. The door seemed stuck.   I called my hosts who were in an adjacent room. One of the ladies came over and much to my surprise opened the door with great ease.  It turned out that in my state of panic, I forgot that the door opened outwardly while all the time I was trying to pull it towards me at the cost of the fragile door handle which broke off.

The time that I spent in the midst of the Massai with the love, the warmth and the heartwarming welcome that surrounded me will forever remain engraved in my memory.   It offset all the hardships, the difficult and western deprived environment and conveniences that we are so accustomed to.

Will I go back there again?

Most definitely