In da city Kishinev

Perhaps the most accurate musical depiction of life in Kishinev since S'keshenever shtikele....


я живу здесь-- это город мой!

גילגולים

Being a successful Jewish Service Corps volunteer requires a great deal of resourcefulness, creativity and self-motivation. In Moldova, a go-with-the-flow attitude is also crucial. And so, I find myself playing several different roles every day.

From the top, here's a brief sampling of my more recent transformations:

1. as living art/poolside propaganda in honor of 60 Years of Israel
2. as a blushing bride during a short theatre piece at Jewish Family Summer Camp Shevet Achim
3. in an improvised "national" costume at the Multicultural Kishinev Seminar hosted by the Moldovan Jewish Community's own Tolerance Club (pictured with Anna from Kiev)
4. creating cultural continuity on an excursion to Rybnitsa with the Madrichim Training Center

זעכציק (60) יאָר שױן

Bas-Tsiyon says:
Your Oldnewland must have you!
Join the Jewish Regiment!
(American Jewish Advertisement, circa WWI)

image courtesy of Wikipedia

My White City, You Are a Flower of Stone!

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Soviet song legend Sofia Rotaru. An ethnic Moldovan and native of Ukrainian city Chernivtsi (Czernowitz), Rotaru is, even at the age of 61, still the darling of the Post-Soviet World.

Here she sings "Песня о моём городе", or "The Song of My City", which was the theme for the 1970s made-for-State-run TV movie "Kishinev, Kishinev". Appropriately, this song is now the unofficial anthem of of Chisinau/Кишинёв, the city in which I have now lived, with interruptions, for almost nine months (whoa!).

The Russian Lyrics (there is, of course a Romanian/Moldovan version as well) are as follows:

ПЕСНЯ О МОЕМ ГОРОДЕ

Музыка - Е. Доги
Русский текст - В. Лазарева

Мой белый город, ты цветок из камня,
Омытый добрым солнечным дождем,
Как ветрами, овеян ты веками,
Как песня, в сердце ты звучишь моем.

Мой теплый город в переливах света
И в зелени, и в звездах, и в огнях,
Я так люблю, когда живут рассветы
На улицах твоих и площадях!
Ла ла ла, ла ла ла....

Мой нежный город - свет мой негасимый,
Ты весь в моей, а я - в твоей судьбе.
Так радостно здесь встретится с любимым
И вновь услышать песню о тебе.

Мой белый город, вечный как сказанье.
В тебе наш труд и молодость, и смех.
я чувствую всегда твое дыханье -
Ты мой, ты наш, и ты открыт для всех.
Ла ла ла, ла ла ла...

Goodbye Chamets, Hello Matzo! A Passover Retrospective

Ah Pesach--- the festival of freedom!

Like most other JSC Volunteers, this year I spent my Pesach at innumerable seders, ingesting more JDC-brand matzo then I ever thought possible. But what makes Pesach in Bessarabia unique, you may ask? Well, to understand this you must first understand the Moldovan relationship to bread.

The famously fertile soil of Bessarabia produces a wide variety of leavened products-- from black & hearty to light & fluffy. Bread is matter of Moldovan pride, a symbol of hospitality and cross-cultural communication. Thus today, some of this nation’s favorite snacks include the traditional Moldovan (i.e. non-Jewish) “Hala” and “Beighel”.

In the Moldovan Jewish community this frenzied love of all things yeasty means that Passover is an especially difficult time. In Hillel, for example, the transition from leavened to unleavened was marked by a pre-Pesach seminar where we learned not only how to lead our own seder, but also how to cope with eight full days without bread. Several days later we had a special “Goodbye, Chamets!” visit to the “Chisinau (Kishinev)” brand beer factory run by local Jewish business leader Yakov Tikhman.

You may think that under a bread-loving society, many young Jews in Kishinev gave into crust-lust and snuck sandwiches between matzo balls. The pressure was especially intense this year, as Moldovan Easter, for which special aromatic loaves are displayed and devoured as an act of devotion, coincided directly with our Jewish holiday. It was quite incredible, however, to see people for whom Jewish traditions such as kashrut are very rarely acknowledged, doing everything they could to keep themselves kosher le-peysekh.

Of course, sometimes the lack of yeast can make people do strange things. This is Jan-- he’s
dressing up as the Pharaoh--- need I say more?

Mir Basaraber, Part II

With a hearty laugh, Alexander Bendersky greets all his guests the same way. “Sit down and stay healthy!” he says with smile. A frequent host of all kinds of visitors, from his high spirits and seemingly contagious energy, one would never guess that Mr. Bendersky, or Sasha, as he is more commonly called, is one of Hesed Yehuda’s neediest clients in the Kishinev region. Bed-ridden, without the use of his left arm and living in harsh conditions, he is nevertheless happy, popular and proudly carries on the Jewish traditions he learned as a child.

Born in the village of Nisporeni, Sasha is able to recall with astonishing detail the thoroughly Jewish atmosphere of the pre-war shtetl, remembering even the smallest episodes from his childhood. "Bet you didn't know that in Bessarabia we played dreydl on Purim too, did you?" says Sasha playfully. In an effort to recreate this environment, he and his wife Roza, who also grew up in Nisporeni, still maintain a Jewish home, keeping Shabbat and celebrating the holidays with family recipes passed down for generations. “We can never forget where we have come from,” says Roza softly, “It’s too important”.

On Saturday afternoons, the Benderskys door is always open. Friends of all ages pour in until sunset, joking, talking and debating with Sasha in Russian, Romanian and Yiddish. Making a l’chaim over homemade wine, all the collective aliments of his family, from his own troubles, to his wife’s frequent illnesses and their son’s mental handicap, seem for a moment to disappear. One special toast is always reserved for Hesed, whom Sasha thanks not only for the medical and humanitarian aid they provide, but also the connection they give him with the wider Jewish community.

Yet though the Benderskys are grateful for the help that Hesed provides, Sasha still struggles. Each month he sets aside a portion of his meager pension to save up for his dream--- a motorized wheelchair he could operate with his one good hand. “Being Jewish means being part of a community. My door is always open to guests, but one day I’d like to visit others too”.

Mir Basaraber, Part I מיר באַסאַראַבער

פֿון "מיר באַסאַראַבער"

פֿון מאיר כאַראַץ

מיר, װאָס מיר װײסן אַלײן ניט פֿון װאַנען

אונדזערע מאָדנע פֿאַמיליעס שטאַמען,

אפֿשר פֿון אײביק אָן פֿון דאַנען,

פֿון די פֿעלדער פֿון בריטשעװאַנען?

From Mir Basaraber (We, the Jews of Bessarabia)

by Meyer Kharats

We’re the ones who don’t know themselves

From whence come our strange surnames,

Perhaps from the very beginning from here,

From the fields of Britshev?

quote and translation adapted from: Klezmer Alliance