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Showing posts with label Moroccan Jews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Moroccan Jews. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

"A Co-Existence Lost in the Wake of Zionism:" A Photo Exhibit Documents Jewish Morocco

Here is a piece from the Canadian Jewish News about an upcoming  photo exhibit  by Aaron Elkaim that documents Jewish life in Morocco  It is entitled, "A Co-Existence: Lost in the Wake of Zionism" and will take place in Toronto.
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Photo exhibit is a journey into Jewish Morocco




This image taken at the Al Zama Synagogue in Morocco
Aaron Vincent Elkaim’s upcoming photographic exhibit documents the history of Jewish Morocco.
His work will be displayed at the CONTACT Photography Festival for the month of May at the Pikto Gallery in the Distillery District in Toronto.

 “The title, A Co-Existence: Lost in the Wake of Zionism, refers to how Jews and Muslims lived alongside each other in relative peace in Morocco since, really, the beginning of Islam,” Elkaim said. “Although an Islamic country, the Jewish People were truly incorporated into the Moroccan identity and structure of the country.”

Although Elkaim said he doesn’t deny certain dark periods in the history, “on the whole, Jews were considered true Moroccans. They were part of the country’s identity, and the country was part of theirs. This is still evident in the nostalgia that exists in those who have left Morocco.”
Elkaim’s photographic project is “a journey into the remnants of a culture” that captures “an epoch of Judaism existing in peace with Islam.” Reviving memories of “a past forgotten in the wake of Zionism,” Elkaim said he aims to tell a story at odds with current perceptions of Jews and Arabs.

The Jewish People arrived in the land now known as Morocco more than 2,000 years ago. Protected since the seventh century by the Islamic principle of tolerance, they thrived, holding high positions in trade and government. The Star of David, which appeared on the currency and national flag, was a symbol all Moroccans shared.

During the Holocaust, when asked for a list of Jews, King Mohammed V declared, “We have no Jews in Morocco, only Moroccan citizens.” In 1940, Morocco had 300,000 Jews, the largest population in the Arab world. Following World War II, Israel’s expansion marked the beginning of an exodus. Today, less than 5,000 Jews remain, Elkaim said.

 “The underlying message is simply that coexistence did exist and it worked. I think this is something that is forgotten in today’s political climate, where walls are being built to keep people apart. I feel these walls are blocking the view of what once was and what could be again. I’m simply trying to find hope and truth in history, trying to keep that alive.”
Elkaim said his inspiration for his exhibit stems from his family’s history. “My father was born in the Mellah of Marrakech. He and most of my family immigrated to Canada in the 1960s. They were always very nostalgic of Morocco and kept the culture alive.”

He said the culture was always exotic, yet “normal” for him growing up. “I took it for granted. As I got older though, I began to realize that the culture could not last in the same way as the generations move forward. The Jewish traditions may stay strong, but the cultural tie to Morocco would fade.”
Before becoming a photographer, Elkaim studied cultural anthropology and film in university. He found photography as a passion after completing his degree, but it took a while for him to pursue it as a career.

 “For me the idea of exploring the world and its stories and cultures was captivating. When I began to realize that photography offered the ability to keep exploring and learning, I knew I had found something great, but more importantly, it also offered me direction and purpose for these desires. My explorations were no longer just for me – I now had the ability to communicate the things I was discovering. I could tell stories that I believe are important.”
Elkaim said he loves being part of life. “The work I do is a reflection of real life, realities that aren’t my own, but that I am privileged to experience and capture. It is the people and their stories and watching them unfold around me that truly captivate me. It’s less about a beautiful image than capturing what I am experiencing and conveying a feeling about it.”
This year marks the third time that Elkaim is showing his work at CONTACT. He is a founding member of the Boreal Collective, a group of Canadian documentary photographers who had a group show at last year’s festival.
His work from Morocco has also been shown internationally at the Reportage Festival in Australia, the New York Photo Festival, the Recconures des Arles festival in France and Fotographia Festival in Rome.

Elkaim said he hopes people will react positively to his images of Morocco. “I simply aim to shine a light on a history that might have been overlooked in the current framework surrounding both Judaism and Islam. I feel we often see things in black and white, but this story offers us shades of grey, and I believe that truth and hope usually resides somewhere in the middle.”

His favourite image from the collection is of the wind blowing through the curtains of the Al Zama Synagogue in Marrakech. “Everything is blue and so peaceful. You can just feel the presence of a sacred history being preserved within the space.”

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Jewish Moroccans in the Netherlands: Balancing Between Cultures


Here is an article from Radio Netherlands about Moroccan Jews who live in the Netherlands. They are all at once, Moroccan, Jewish, Dutch, and also sometimes Israeli.
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Jewish Moroccans in the Netherlands: Balancing Between Cultures
Published on : 3 July 2011

Stories about Dutch Moroccan youths verbally abusing or physically threatening Jews crop up fairly frequently in the Dutch media, and politicians - especially Geert Wilders and the Freedom Party - call for hard measures against “Moroccan street terrorists". What's it like to live in the Netherlands if you're both Jewish and Moroccan?

By Jannie Schippers and Mohamed Amezian

Victor Bohbot, 56, has seen the climate in the Netherlands change over the years: “I came here in 1974, the entire country was pro Israel. When I was a soldier in the IDF, met lots of Dutch truck drivers who would come to Israel to volunteer."

Until very recently, Victor ran a number of restaurants in Amsterdam, Deventer and Bussum. In 1984, he and his family left ‘for good’ and went back to Israel. However, four years later they were back in the Netherlands. “It's difficult. What am I? For the Dutch, I'm a foreigner but I'm also not a real Israeli or Moroccan".

Cross the road
Out on the street, some people comment on the Star of David that Victor wears around his neck. He says, “A little while ago, I was standing outside when a group of kids came along, about 14, 15 years old." When he greeted them in Moroccan slang (‘la bas?), everything was all nice and friendly: “When they realise I speak Arabic, everything is okay on the surface, but the way they look at me..."

Victor says that in recent years numerous Jewish Moroccans have emigrated to Israel from France: “There have been a lot more incidents in France; people really don't feel safe. I know someone who goes back and forth every week. He sent his family to Israel but he still works in Paris." Victor does not believe that it will get as bad in the Netherlands as it is in France: “The Jewish community here in the Netherlands is much smaller and much less visible". Even though Victor says he will never leave his Star of David at home because it's safer, he won't wear a yarmulke in the streets and only puts it on when he gets to the synagogue. “I don't think it's necessary to be provocative. If I see a problem walking towards me, I cross the street. My brother thinks that's cowardly; he doesn't let anybody get away with being abusive.”

"I'm one of them"

Jacob al-Malagh, a 47-year-old Jewish Moroccan mechanic, comes into contact with Dutch Moroccans on a daily basis: “About 70% of my customers are Moroccan; I work with Moroccans and for Moroccans." He meets members of the small Moroccan Jewish community in the Netherlands – between 50 and 100 people – at the synagogue and during the holidays. Jacob says his strong bond with Israel has never caused him a problem in all the 26 years that he has lived in the Netherlands. “Moroccans treat me like one of them and according to the Dutch, one says I'm an Israeli, another sees me as a Moroccan or a Jew, while another thinks I'm Dutch. I really don't care what anyone thinks.”

Bad reputation
Both Jacob and Victor say that politicians such as Geert Wilders only make the problem worse. According to Victor, “He has very extreme ideas. Wilders is not pro-Israel, his real focus is internal Dutch politics." Jacob avoids politics: “As soon as someone starts yammering about Arabs and Jews and Muslims I say sorry, that's nothing to do with me. What other people do, that's up to them. I live in the Netherlands and I want to live in peace with everybody else".

Victor has noticed that both his son and daughter have distanced themselves from the land of his birth: “My son doesn't want to admit that his father is from Morocco. Moroccans have a really bad reputation here in the Netherlands and he doesn't want to be a part of that. But I can't forget where I come from. My grandfather always used to say that if you don't know where you come from, you’ll never know where you're going."

(Partial) History of Jews in Morocco

After the fall of the Second Temple in 70 CE, Jews were dispersed throughout the Roman Empire, including what is now modern Morocco. In 1492, Jews and the remaining Moslems were expelled from Catholic Spain and many ended up in Morocco. Moroccan Jews had a specific niche in society and had their own synagogues. After the establishment of the state of Israel in the wake of the Second World War, many Jews left the country, fearing outbreaks of religiously-motivated violence. There are less than 5,000 Jews left in Morocco.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Moroccan Artisans Restore North African Jewish Center in Jerusalem


Here is an article from Haaretz about Moroccan artisans who have traveled to Jerusalem to restore a center for North African Jews in traditional Moroccan style.
There is an interesting comment by a reader about the (Muslim) Moroccan quarter that was destroyed by the Israeli army in the old city of Jerusalem in 1967, and the possibility of acknowledging its destruction. But alas, we are in the era of selective, fragmented,and competing histories.
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A touch of Morocco in the heart of Jerusalem


A newly restored center for North African Jewish heritage promises to become one of the capital's most colorful tourist sites. But not everyone is thrilled with the ambitious renovation project.

By Nir Hasson

When you ask 24-year-old Abdullah Dara his profession, he replies "soccer player." But for the last few months, the 24-year-old from Rabat, Morocco has been working in Jerusalem - in the family business.

Dara is an expert in the art of zellige, the Moroccan mosaics that decorate walls and floors. His work involves preparing ceramic surfaces painted in various colors and breaking them with a delicate hammer into thousands of tiny, identical pieces. Then he and other workers arrange the miniature pieces into a giant puzzle to create a beautiful colored surface.

For the last few years, a team of Moroccan workers has been immersed in a zellige project in the heart of Jerusalem - the renewal of the David Amar World Center for North African Jewish Heritage.

The center will be dedicated on Sunday in the presence of President Shimon Peres and former President Yitzhak Navon. Dara did not hesitate to come to Israel. "We work all over the world," he says. "My brother has already worked in Spain, Dubai and France."

The center is situated between King David and Agron streets behind the Palace Hotel in Mahaneh Yisrael, one of the first neighborhoods outside the walls of the Old City. The building was constructed in the mid-19th century by Rabbi David Ben Shimon, founder of the community of North African Jews in Jerusalem who distinguished themselves from the general Sephardic Jewish community. It was used to house new immigrants from the community.

After four years of renovation and hundreds of thousands of stones, which Dara and his friends assembled into dozens of square meters of mosaic, the old building looks like a sultan's palace. It has definitely turned into the most colorful building in Jerusalem.

Authentic Moroccan style

The association of Jewish communities of North Africa, which has reconstructed the building, decided to build it in authentic Moroccan style - complete with an Andalusian-style garden, water fountains, carved and painted doors, ornamentation on the walls, and colored floor tiles.

Since there is not a single contractor in Israel who knows how to do this kind of work, the organization recruited the help of contractors and artisans from Morocco. However, the Interior Ministry tried to prevent their entry. "They didn't understand that they aren't foreign workers, they're artists. Every time they went home for a two-week holiday, it took me half a year to bring them back," says Haim Cohen, chairman of the association. When the workers finally did arrive, they didn't keep to the schedule. The Israeli employers were so afraid that the mosaics would not be ready on time for the festive ceremony that they prepared an emergency plan: wooden boards with a photograph of the mosaic, meant to serve as a cheap substitute for the real thing.

The renewal of the building in this style angered Jerusalem preservationists, who see it as importing foreign architecture and damaging a historic building.

Preservationists had reservations

"This undermines preservation, but I admit that it turned out special and has tourism value," says Itzik Shweiki, Director of the Council for the Preservation of Sites in Jerusalem. "This style is what was supposed to be the original character of the neighborhood," says Cohen.

Indeed the site is expected to become one of the city's leading tourist attractions. "The purpose of the center is to preserve the [North African Jewish] heritage through dress, music, vessels, piyyutim [liturgical poems] and prayers...and bring them to the general public," says Cohen. This will be done through exhibitions, a library and a computer center for studying the history of North African Jewish communities.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Moroccan Jew has Become Fiction in the Jewish Consciousness: Interview with Moroccan-born Israeli poet Mois Benarroch


Here is an interview from the Poetry International Web with Moroccan/Israeli Poet Mois BenArroch. He makes some interesting points. There are still so many questions that we want to ask though, like about the significance of Morocco as a place,homeland, etc.
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Interview: Moroccan-born Israeli poet Mois Benarroch


On being different and writing a different poem


July 15, 2010
Moving from Morocco to Israel at the age of 13 was like moving from one planet to another. Israel was not only a different country, it was a different culture and these were completely different Jews and it was a completely different Judaism. It was September 1972 and within a year and a half of my arrival there was a war, the Yom Kippur war, and my little brother died; all this happened before the end of 1973. These traumas are the source of my writing, and perhaps the reason I started to write. I missed out completely on adolescence and was also very isolated from the Israeli community.

Can you tell me about your childhood in Morocco, your parents, your education?


We went to a Jewish school, called El Ittihad Maroc. That was the official name of the school but everybody called it La Alianza, in Spanish; it was the first school opened by the Alliance Israelite Universelle in 1862 and became the first of an international Jewish network of schools called the Alliance Française that spread all through the Muslim world and beyond. The level of education was very high and we were prepared for the French baccalauréat. We were also taught many languages and had classes in English, Hebrew and Arabic. Curiously, we were not taught Spanish, although this was the mother tongue of all the pupils and most teachers. So, when the bell rang everybody switched to Spanish. I find this miraculous. Back in class it was forbidden to say a word in Spanish.

My childhood was very Jewish and I still lived in a city that respected the fact that Jews did not work on the Sabbath [Saturday]; business was built around it since many Jews had businesses in my home town Tetouan. The school, as I said, was also a Jewish school. Although there were also some Christians and Muslims, the immediate surroundings were also very Jewish.

We were a family of four children; I was the second, after my sister. I remember very well that we were always on the point of emigrating. The feeling was that we were not staying in Morocco. There was talk of emigrating to Spain, to Venezuela, to Canada. And of course, Israel where we finally settled in 1972, when I was 13.

Have your views about Israel changed in the time you have been living there?


My views about Israel have changed a lot. Despite so many years here I think I see Israel from the outside, I live on the outside. Of course I didn’t have a complete concept or point of view when I was 13. I thought I was coming to a spiritual and religious country where Jews loved each other. This was the naive point of view of a Jewish boy.

What other work do you do besides writing poetry?

Nowadays I am a full-time writer and translator. I have just published a new novel in Spain, Amor y Exilios. I translate novels. I was a clerk-accountant for 12 years in the past with a steady salary. I also worked for a few years in hotels before that. And I studied natural medicine and pratised for time years as a part time job. I liked the idea but I don’t think I was such a good therapist.

How did you become a writer?


I started writing poetry when I was 15, because of feeling isolated and unable to connect with my surroundings. The first poems were love poems to a girl I couldn’t talk to. That seems pretty normal. Isn’t it?

Since then I have never stopped writing. I may be imagining it but I am pretty sure that after writing my first poem I knew deep inside that I was going to be a writer, and for some reason I also knew that it would take a long time for my writing to be accepted. But since then I have never stopped writing and have even done so obsessively at some periods of my life, writing 18 hours a days. It was like if I stopped writing I would die. Maybe it still is. I didn’t stop. I tried a few times but it didn’t work.

Which poets, or other artists, have influenced your work?

There are many. I think that two of the most influential writers are Charles Bukowski and Edmond Jabes, which may look like a complete contradiction. But the main art form that has influenced me beside writing is that of the singer-songwriter. I actually started writing my first poems after listening to the likes of Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Jackson Browne. I even tried to compose music to my poems for some time. I also like movies, and I think that has influenced my novels. Some critics have pointed out that I use cinematic techniques

I have been influenced by many authors in many languages. Let’s start with Hebrew: Natan Zach, David Avidan, Erez Bitton, Zelda, Yona Wallach, Moshe Sartel and many others. From the French, besides Jabes, Cocteau, Breton, Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Blaise Cendrars and many others have influenced me. From the Spanish, mostly the Latin American poets like Neruda, Huidobro, Nicanor Parra and Gonzalo Rojas, all from Chile; then Borges, as poet and prose writer. The beatniks in general: Ginsberg, Burroughs, then Brautigan, Whitman, Ignatow. And as I said, Bukowski. I am probably forgetting many of them.

Your poems chosen for PIW focus on themes of belonging (e.g. ‘I went up to the Land of Israel’, ‘Suitcase’) and outsiderness (e.g. ‘Antipoetry’ and ‘Beans with Tabasco Sauce for Breakfast’). Can you comment on these motifs within your own poetry?

This is definitely the recurring theme in my writings. It spreads all over, from being an outsider as a Jew, or as a writer (and Edmond Jabes would say that every writer is a Jew) to feeling like a different kind of Jew and not really part of the mainstream of Judaism: that is being a Sephardic Jew. Maybe that’s what poetry is about: being outside, being different and writing a different poem.

Your work will be published on PIW alongside Esther Raab’s writings. Although Raab is considered to be the first female and Hebrew/native poet of (pre-state) Israel, she can also be viewed as somewhat of an outsider. What are your thoughts about this and about her writing? (Are all poets perhaps ‘outsiders’?)

I read Raab a long time ago and frankly she did not make much of an impression on me. I don’t think she is really an outsider; her books were in stores back in the 1980s. Maybe I was not impressed because I don’t like landscape poems. I also do not like early Israeli poetry before Zach, Avidan and Amichai. I think that in most cases the poets were trying to find a language, a Hebrew that they could hardly handle. That surely includes Bialik and Alterman. I consider Avidan to be the first great poet of the Modern Hebrew language, and the first sabra to write poetry. I am not saying Raab is not a good poet, but her influence was minimal. But this leads me to an interesting observation made by Professor Shlomo Elbaz, who noticed how many women poets there are in Israel. And although the boys play the big ego game, we have Lea Goldberg, great and important poets like Zelda, Yona Wallach, Amira Hess, Hedva Harkavi and countless other women poets in the first league of Israeli poetry. I don’t see that many in Spanish or French or British poetry; the USA fares better, but even a world leader in poetry like Chile has one Mistral compared with dozens of male major poets. I think this would be a good subject for a PhD. Compared to most countries I know the situation is unique.

As for outsiders: in Israel 20,000 poetry books are sold yearly. This means that poetry is the outsider. Not the poets. I don’t see myself as more of an outsider and I have had my share of recognition; 20,000 books is like one prose bestseller and many novels sell even more. So, a poet who has published a few books and has a hundred readers can consider himself recognized. More so if a dozen articles have been written about him. As a novelist I am marginalized, but that’s another story. And a long one.

What are your thoughts about the Josephus book, the history book written by Josephus in 70 AD? You recently wrote about a new Hebrew translation in the Haaretz newspaper.

I reread the book and wrote about it with the feeling that it was in fact completely irrelevant to our political reality of today. This must seem obvious to any European, but the problem is that in Israel there is a gap in political time; in every discussion someone tries to compare today’s political situation with something that happened 2000 or 3000 years ago in Judea or in this part of the world.

You are bilingual in Spanish and Hebrew, and very proficient in English. Do you feel some things are easier to write about in Hebrew and other things in Spanish? In other words, how does your multilingualism manifest itself in your life as a poet and in daily life?

I have written poetry in three languages and that’s not something I would recommend to anyone. It was a poetic need. It came out of the poems. I started writing poetry in English when I was 15, and did it for four years. Then I switched to Hebrew, for the next 20 years. Then I moved to Spanish because there were things that could not be written in Hebrew. Language not only describes or represents reality, it also creates it. And Modern Hebrew is a language that has created a totally different Jewish Moroccan from the one I know; there are many ways to describe the Moroccan in Modern Hebrew and almost all of them are negative. And I could not change the whole of the Hebrew language, or cope with it. So the need for Spanish was a linguistic need and also a social need. A line like “I am an exiled Moroccan poet” (from one of my poems) could not be written in Hebrew. It took me eight years to translate it, and even now I am attacked for writing something so obvious. A Moroccan in Israel has to thank Zionism for saving him from a terrible life and fate, so the question of being an exile outside the understanding of Israeli society. I should thank everyone every day for having been saved and converted to the new Zionist-Judaism, and to ultra new Judaeo-Christianity, which is the same thing.

So my poetry is definitely different or I am even a different poet when I write in different language. Spanish is my mother tongue and my historic tongue, since this language has been spoken by family over the last thousand years, Hebrew is the language of my oppression, and for the fight against this oppression; it’s a father tongue, a male phallic chauvinistic tongue, but it is also the sacred tongue, the tongue of the temple, somewhere deep inside. English is a kind of neutral tongue, and also the tongue of the empire, it’s all over and I often use it when the other two conflict with each other or for more philosophical poems.

In my everyday life I live in Hebrew, with some French too because my wife is French, and we have many French friends, although I speak Spanish with my mother, and with some of my family too. And in Israel there is always some English in everyday life, since there are many tourists in the city, as well as many American and English immigrants who don’t bother to learn Hebrew, because they don’t have to.

How do you reflect on your linguistic identity and how do you perceive your cultural identity?


I see myself as some kind of disappearing species. I see myself as a Karaite in the 18th or 19th century, like a member of a sect; the Karaites were the mainstream of Judaism in the 12th century and now there are may be 1000 of them left. Since the 16th century Ashkenazíc Judaism has dominated the Jewish world. Israel was an anomaly during the 1980s when there was a majority of Sephardic Jews, but now they are maybe 40% (since the big Russian emigration) and most are trying to be like the image of the new Jew that was imposed on them by Zionism. I think that the Sephardic Jew is disappearing from the world. Ruth Knafo-Setton sent a few stories to a Jewish magazine in the US and they told her that her stories were nice but that she should write about “real Jews”. Moroccan Jews are not “real” Jews; they are some kind of folklore. Since most of my novels are about Moroccan Jews, I guess they are not “real” Israeli or Jewish novels. The Moroccan Jew has become fiction in the Jewish consciousness.

How do you envisage the future of your children in terms of culture? Do you feel they fit into society in Israel?


I don’t really know. Israel is a country in a state of change. It’s very dynamic and it is hard to say where it will be in a year. I have tried to pass on part of my history and heritage to my children, although this is not very simple, since school texts contradict all that I say to them. I am only one against a big system, and it’s a battle I cannot win. Maybe I can lose it with some dignity and save something from my past that will go on in future generations. As it is, my descendants will probably think that I came to Israel from a cave in Africa. That’s more or less the concept of the Sephardic Jew.


By Lucy Pijnenburg

Saturday, June 27, 2009

The Last Jews of Essaouira, Morocco


Here is an article from the Jerusalem Post about the dwindling Jewish population of the coastal town of Essaouira. I am intrigued by the history of Jews in Morocco but there needs to be a little more constructive criticism of Jewish out migration from the country, especially to Israel; and of their on again/off again relationship with Morocco. It is a long article, but worth the read.
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The Last Jews of Essaouira


Jun. 25, 2009
BRETT KLINE , THE JERUSALEM POST

Josef Sebag says he has a fine life in his native Essaouira, though he has no friends here. This retail-artisan heaven for tourists on Morocco's southern Atlantic coast is a town unique in the Arab world for its history of Jewish-Muslim relations.

He is often in his casbah antiques and book store, just off the large main square and next to the hippest night spot in town. Sebag does not hang out in the rooftop Taros Café, but does spend a good amount of time in London, Paris and New York. Something about living in Western cultural capitals suits him. He has friends there.

Visitors come to see him, from France, Canada and Israel, but most tourists are not insiders in Essaouira, known as "Souira" to the locals. The Moroccan Arabs call him "el yahoudi" (the Jew) but Sebag says it is never meant nastily. He is as Moroccan and Souiri as they are, and they know it. His family has been in Morocco since fleeing the Spanish Inquisition.

His store is a must for British, Australian, American and French tourists, as well as for surfers from all over and for increasing numbers of Israelis, especially the ones born in Morocco who don't come as part of organized tour groups.

Most Moroccan and foreign Arabs do not come to his store, though it has nothing to do with Sebag's being a Jew. An exception is certain Arab authors who leave their poetry and prose with him, a sign of respect, as they know he carries few Arabic-language books.

"I know everyone born and raised here but have few friends," he begins in French. "What can we talk about - art, literature? No, we can't. The local people are more concerned about making money in their stores and restaurants than reading. Some do very well here in Souira, but many have never been out of Morocco."

Sebag is one of some 4,000 Jews still living in Morocco, mostly in Casablanca, but that is another story. He and his ailing mother are two of perhaps four - or seven or eight, depending on whom you ask - Jewish Essaouira natives left from a community that has lived here since 1760.

ESSAOUIRA USED to be an example of a small Arab town in which Muslims and Jews lived side by side in both rich and poor districts, working together but socially segregated - and in peace. It was unique because there were almost as many Jews as there were Muslims, so the term "minority" did not really apply, as it did in every other town and city in Morocco and everywhere in the Arab world.

Aside from ownership of the land in and around the town, which always remained in the hands of the caids and makhsen - local landed gentry and royal family clans - most urban-style import-export business was dominated by Jewish families.

The one exception was all artisan work connected to wood, directly linked to the vast forests around the town. But as an example, from the very beginning of royal trading in the 18th century, the Corcos family dominated the import of tea leaves from Britain, which originated from its Far East colonies, and was thus responsible for making tea the traditional morning beverage in Morocco.

Essaouira's last Jews began to leave following the Six Day War. Many of the working-class families left the mellah, the Jewish district in Arab cities, for Israel. The casbah's well-off business leaders headed mostly to France and Canada. But thousands of Jews remain here, buried in two cemeteries on the edge of town, including Rabbi Haim Pinto, whose tomb thousands of Jews from abroad visit every September in a hiloula, a pilgrimage.

Today, real estate and tourism are booming in Essaouira, but the boom has little to do with the Jewish world, other than a few very active key players. The same is true for the music festivals, including the Gnawa Festival in June that draws up to 400,000 mostly Western visitors.

"There are leading Moroccan Arab families here making a lot of money with French firms in construction and tourism-linked activities in general, and that is grand for them and for the town," Sebag says, "but let's say that aside from the music festivals, culture is limited. Jews here were always a bridge between small-town Muslim society and the Western world. There were very few tourists here. Now the opposite is true. The Jews are gone, but Souira is a tourist center."

The walled city is home to hundreds of boutiques, some of which are attached to small workshops, often with two stories of apartments above. Restaurants and cafés are everywhere. Visitors check out the ramparts, the port and historical sites, walking for kilometers along the beaches in the wind that blows 20 hours a day. They drive to the surrounding villages, or surf, also a big attraction here.

When people are anywhere inside the walls, the impulse to buy and buy again in the casbah and medina is overwhelming. Visitors walk up and down the car-free streets and allies, purchasing fantastically colored rugs and scarves. They buy blue Gnawa cotton robes and head pieces, more clothing, bed linen in gorgeous muted colors, paintings, silver jewelry, leather footwear, metal lamps and objects and intricate wooden boxes and ornate tables.

Essaouira was known as Mogador until the end of French colonial rule in the early 1960s. Portuguese occupiers built the wall and ramparts, known as Castello Real, in 1505 before Mogador was much of a town, but the inhabitants of the Arab Chiadma region to the north and the Berber Haha to the south gave them no peace, and by 1512 the Portuguese were pulling out and sacking much of the region.

Mogador, cité sous les alizées or "Mogador, a town in the wind" was written by Hamza Ben Driss Ottmani, a French grande-école graduate and public-sector research director in Rabat born of a well-known family in Essaouira. Ottmani offers accounts of all the local villages, written in 1516 by celebrated traveler and author known as Leon the African. Born El Hassan Ben Muhammad el-Ouazzan el-Gharnati in Grenada, Spain in 1483, he moved with his family to Fez in Morocco when Grenada was taken by the Catholic kings in 1492.

IN THE southern Berber Haha region, in prosperous and long-gone villages with names like Tednest, Hadecchis and Eitdeuet, Berber Jews were a majority or close to it, in a totally Muslim world.

Very little is known about these tens of thousands of people who lived in relative comfort in this tiny isolated corner of Jewish and Moroccan history. The Berber Jews are thought to have been there since the destruction of the Temple. And it is believed that hundreds of thousands of other people in southern Morocco are Islamic converts of Jewish origin.

Long before Leon the African, this area produced the royal purple color of the Roman Empire from mollusks on the coast that was busy with trading ships. Even earlier, the Phoenicians bought argan oil here; 2,500 years later, argan oil is still made here and only here. Argan, used sometimes as salad oil but mostly as a skin product rich in vitamin E, is a growing organic rage in France and Europe - very expensive and not without a certain intrigue.

Essaouira's real beginning as a import-export center came in 1760 when the sultan of Morocco appointed families from Casablanca, Marrakech and other northern cities to settle here and become official royal traders. Many if not most were Jewish. The town grew. According to Ottmani, seven of the town's leading families in the 19th century were Muslim, while 25 were Jewish, with names such as Corcos, Afriat, Bensaoud, Cohen Solal, Belisha, Ohana, Pinto and El-Maleh.

In the beginning, these families conducted trade by ship mostly with Britain, but also handled local trade and the camel caravans coming from Timbuktu across the desert, with links to Algiers, Tunis, Tripoli, Cairo and Mecca. In modern times the caravans disappeared, but international trade focused on Europe became highly competitive.

The railroad built by the French in 1912 on did not reach Essaouira from Marrakech, today a two-hour bus ride away. Casablanca and Tangiers were deemed much more important, and the glory and prosperity of the town in the wind slowly began to fade.

Its leading citizens were still Muslim, Jewish and European, but there also were thousands of working-class Muslims and Jews. Essaouira was known for its artisan work, using wood from the close-by thuya and argania trees to make ornate, silver and stone-inlaid tables and mirrors. This was an exclusively Muslim sector.

The silver jewelry work was famous for the much sought-after filogram design, the Dag Ed Essaouiri - thin lines converge on a circular center as meticulous radii, a design that was instantly recognizable as native to Essaouira. The master silversmiths were all Jewish, as were many of the workers, who lived mostly in the mellah. Today, the remaining silver designers are Berbers, many of whom worked with the local Jews until they left. The local Arab jewelers all work in gold.

SUDDENLY, AN Israeli couple enters Sebag's bookstore, and there are smiles and greetings in French, Maghrebi Arabic and Hebrew. Isaac Azencot was born and raised in the mellah and at 16 left with his parents for Israel. His father was a cantor in one of the 30 local synagogues, none of which exists today.

"My parents were Zionists," he says, "so we left. But they remained Moroccans their entire lives, and I've done the same. I'm proud to be a Moroccan-Israeli."

His Hebrew is obviously fluent, with a Moroccan accent; his French is good, if rusty; his English very good, and his Maghrebi Arabic is native and still fluent, with a good Arab accent.

"Sbahelchir, la besse halik," he says, meaning, "good morning, everything is fine."

His brother, a professor, directs all research on Essaouira at the University of Haifa, near their hometown of Kiryat Ata, complete with original documents transferred from Morocco.

"It feels good to see old Muslim friends here in Souira," Azencot says sincerely, in English. "We all lived modestly and respectfully back then, and we boys in the mellah had Muslim friends." But, he adds, they lived differently. He mentions the Alliance Française school right away.

"We were 28 Jewish boys and girls in the class, but there was only one Muslim boy," he says. "It wasn't the money. Working-class Muslims simply didn't learn to read and write back then. And then we all left, except for Josef and his mother." He laughs.

"Ambitious Muslim young people left also," Sebag breaks in. "And I can only live here by leaving regularly. There is no future for Jews here, or anywhere in Morocco. Today, with all the tourism development, no bridge is needed to the Western world."

THERE IS only one native Israeli living full-time in Essaouira. Noam Nir-Boujo has done well for the past nine years serving lunches and dinners at his restaurant, the Riad al Baraka, outside the casbah on the pedestrian Rue Med Al Qorry. The long, narrow, hectic commercial street leads to the most authentic luxury hotel in town, L'Heure Bleue, before ending at the Bab Marrakech gate of the original walled town.

Filled with local schoolkids and shoppers, resident foreigners, tourists and all kinds of characters, the street is lined with shops and tiny leather and metal workshops. The Riad al Baraka occupies a lovely building and garden courtyard. Totally hidden from the busy street behind a large wooden door, it was a private Jewish girls' school until the 1940s.

Nir-Boujo was born in Tel Aviv. His father and grandfather were born in Essaouira. His up-front talking to people and sometimes making strong statements about tourism and coexistence in Essaouira, and simply having a big picture of the world, make him a stand-alone type of guy in this town. In fact, he is a new kind of bridge, definitely a Westerner, but a "Souiri" by origin who speaks fluent Maghrebi Arabic.

"People make money here," Nir-Boujo says, "but they remain suspicious about outsiders. Everyone here knows I'm Jewish, but only some know I'm Israeli. There is ignorance, but never trouble." He notes that almost all women wear hijabs in public but says this is due more to conservative social codes than religious pressure.

Several thousand Westerners have bought homes and businesses in Essaouira over the past two decades. Nir-Boujo says that today the expat community includes perhaps 60 to 80 Jews from France, Britain and Canada. Few foreigners live here full time. Modern Essaouira has been mostly off the map, although in the late '60s and early '70s, it was a stop on the international hippy circuit. Jimi Hendrix hung out here, and had a house in a nearby village.

Israel has been a part of the attempt to commercialize. There is an ongoing attempt to link French-speaking Jews back to their countries of origin in North Africa. In some cases, it has been successful, as French and Canadian Sephardim, and in some cases Israelis, have bought homes there.

"Remember, a Parisian or a Tel Avivian of Moroccan-born parents never loses his Moroccan nationality," Nir-Boujo notes with a wry smile. "But think about it, where in the Arab world would Jews from any country buy a home and feel fully safe? Perhaps in Tunisia, but nowhere else."

THE RIAD al Baraka is full of soft colors, ochre and blues and greens under soft lighting, with round corners and doorways, all surrounding a garden. Nir-Boujo's food is a modern take on classics. The couscous, for example, is compact and orderly, and packed with fresh flavor. The chicken and lamb are soft. Jewish-Arab-Andalusian music wafts in over courtyard speakers.

The restaurateur has a photo of the young Moroccan king, Mohamed VI, above the reception desk. He is proud to be an Israeli with origins in Souira, and is happy living here. He speaks Hebrew, Maghrebi-Arabic, English and French, in that order.

"It is clear that Morocco is the most Jewish-friendly country in the entire Arab world, but the ignorance is still here," he says. "Remember, the parents of young adults here lived and worked side by side with Moroccan Jews, and almost all will tell you they would love to see the Jews return. But the young people know nothing about Jews. They know only the clichés they see on Arab cable television, mostly nasty Israeli soldiers hitting Palestinians. They've also heard that Jews are all rich."

Nir-Boujo's observation was easily confirmed by Fatimzara Ottmani, niece of the author of the Mogador history, and manager of the family-owned Ramses restaurant in the casbah. Twenty-something and without a hijab in public, she smiles easily and kisses foreign male acquaintances on both cheeks, French-style.

Of course, she serves fish. The local port is very busy, and has been for hundreds of years. Essaouira still supplies hundreds of restaurants in Marrakech with fresh catch. But there is also a Moroccan Jewish Shabbat d'fina on the menu, made with bulgur wheat, chickpeas, chunks of beef and hard boiled eggs, in honor of her Jewish great-aunt, from a very rare mixed marriage years ago. And it sells well in the small dining area that looks and feels like a cozy Moroccan living room.

Unlike her father and uncle, Ottmani is not well-educated and her French is not great. She is outgoing and funny, but knows little local history and has not read her uncle's books. In fact, she rarely reads at all, preferring to watch TV with her boyfriend. She has never been outside Morocco and doesn't really care to go.

But she does have insight.

"My father and uncle Hamza grew up here in the casbah with Jewish kids," she begins. "The men in moneyed Muslim families received a good French-language high-school education here, just like the Jews. It was the language of the educated and the government."

For her generation, French tourists and residents have replaced the Jews as an international influence. "But I would love to see young Jews, especially Moroccans, living here," she says. "It would bring more wealth and prosperity. Of course it would. And that would be great for all of us."

"Essaouira is a small town with a fabulous heritage in a developing country," says Nir-Boujo. "There is work to be done here, and I know that certain people in Rabat and Casablanca know that." He won't say more. It is not his role to do that, and he knows it. His role is the Essaouira representative of the World Federation of Moroccan Jewry, and he also sits on a local tourism board.

He was just back from a three-day hiloula, the annual traditional Jewish religious pilgrimages held at different times all over Morocco and Tunisia. This year there was one in Safi, an hour or so up the coast, a center of ceramic arts. He says that three Jewish families still live there, but the 300 participants were mostly elderly men from France, Canada and Israel.

"It was fascinating and moving," he says. Nir-Boujo knows little about traditional Sephardi religious practices. He noted that the ouli of Safi, the king's official representative, has said that there is an unbreakable connection between Morocco and Jews. "His hospitality was wonderful," he says.

The hiloula was the subject of reports on Moroccan national television in both French and Arabic, presented as a piece of the country's religious and cultural heritage. "That is a very positive statement about Jews here," he adds.

SUDDENLY HE is busy discussing dinner plans for 15 with someone in Hebrew with a good amount of Maghrebi-Arabic thrown in.

Dr. Yehuda Ben-Simon is dean of students at Western Galilee College near Acre. White haired and pony-tailed, he is also a tour guide, bringing Israelis to his native Morocco. His father was a noted Hebrew-language printer in Casablanca, and he also speaks and reads fluent Arabic, French and English.

Ben-Simon says Israelis come to Essaouira all year round, mostly in tour groups such as his. "Some are of Moroccan origin, others not," he says. "Generally, they find the country fascinating. But other Israelis who have never been... associate Morocco with a place like Egypt, because it is Arab, and they are afraid. Israelis can be ignorant, too."

A trying moment came in December, during the incursion into Gaza. Nir-Boujo was a bit nervous, though not for any particular reason, and had gone to see local police officials.

A local demonstration one day in support of Gazans had attracted about 500 people, and had remained quiet and peaceful.

The police, who know exactly who Nir-Boujo is and where he comes from, and appreciate his activity with local tourism officials, told him, "Keep your eyes open, but you have nothing to fear. We're watching out for you." Local police officials told him that there was no radical Islamic activity in town. "If any Arab foreigners come looking for trouble, Algerians for example, we know about it," they said. "Nobody has come." All radical Islamic activity in Morocco over the past several years has been linked to Algerians and the branch of al-Qaida trying to establish itself in Casablanca.

Currently the restaurant business is slow in Souira. Nir-Boujo has formed a travel company. One of his first clients is a big Israeli travel firm. "I want to mix business with social," he says, "so 2.5 percent of profits will go to Jewish restoration projects in Morocco, and 2.5% will go to not-for-profit education projects throughout the country.

"This is my personal mission here. In Israel and Western countries, this business-social mix happens regularly, but here it does not. It comes from the tzedaka tradition and the chora for Muslims, but perhaps needs some encouraging here."

He will be going to Casablanca to talk to Jewish businessmen there about doing the same mix, but would like to work with Moroccan Muslim businesspeople as well.

IS IT strange that no other Israelis have followed Nir-Boujo to live in Essaouira? "No, I'm not a typical Israeli, I am Moroccan," he says. "The mix of the heartfelt and the official identity is tough to describe. I would say I am still Israeli, but I am also a Moroccan patriot. It would take a strange person to move here full-time."

He says that at any time there are tourist groups from Israel in Morocco, and some make it to Essaouira. But business is still slow, for everyone.

All the local cultural and tourism business development, from the music festivals to ongoing construction sites, are linked to the efforts of one man, one of the few important Jews remaining in the Arab world.

Distinguished and perhaps above all discreet, André Azoulay is the chief financial adviser to King Mohamed VI and his father King Hassan II before him. He is a well-traveled international banker and is active on the global diplomatic scene. He has also been a tireless worker over the years for peace between Israelis and Palestinians, known for saying, "The security of Israel is based on the establishing of a Palestinian state," as far back as 1990.

Azoulay is currently based in the Moroccan capital Rabat, but was born and raised in Essaouira, on a small square in the casbah. Across the square, his wife was also born and raised, next to the synagogue, today a café. The square is full of carpets and clothing, and antique wooden and metal objects, including menorot, all for sale.

The "godfather of Essaouira" and a very proud Jew, Azoulay has helped put together and backed all the live music festivals here, especially the Gnawa Festival, playing the role to the fullest, going on stage to open the festivities. He has brought French and American hotel investment, jobs and prosperity. He walks the casbah streets, greeting friends and former neighbors with hugs and kisses, asking about the health of their families.

He helped put together a recent 10-day Moroccan Jewish conference and concert series in Paris, which many Israelis attended. One of the most relaxed speakers was Morocco's then ambassador to France, Abdel-Fettah Sijilmassi.

A 1970 Israeli documentary on Essaouira was screened during the conference. In it, moshav-born teenagers in Galilee discover that their grandfather, Rabbi David El Kaim, was a renowned scholar and liturgical poet in Essaouira.

Those boys are now in their 50s. If they have kids of their own, what do their children know about the great-grandfather, rabbi and poet from Essaouira? He was yet another element in the unique Arab-Jewish history of a Moroccan coast town where the present looks to the past and the future. Cultural-historical research and artisan commerce could nourish the Jewish-Arab magic and prosperity of Essaouira, with the ever-present wind blowing it into a bright future.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Photo Exhibit on the Jewish People of Southern Morocco


Here is an article about an exhibit running through September at the Jewish Historical Museum in Amsterdam, Holland.


Jews from Morocco featured at Jewish Historical Museum in Amsterdam

by: Maud Swinnen
Updated: 13/Apr/2009 10:12

In 2008, Dutch photographer Pauline Prior visited the region to photograph what remains of Morocco’s Jewish heritage, and documented Jewish life in Casablanca today.


AMSTERDAM (EJP)--- An exhibition featuring photos of the Jews of southern Morocco will open on Thursday 23 April at the Jewish Historical Museum in Amsterdam.
Fatima Elatik, leader of the Amsterdam district council of Zeeburg, will open this exhibition of photos by Elias Harrus and Pauline Prior, taken first in the 1950s, just before Jews in Morocco emigrated en masse to Israel.

In 2008, Dutch photographer Pauline Prior visited the region to photograph what remains of Morocco’s Jewish heritage, and documented Jewish life in Casablanca today.

In his photos, Elias Harrus (1919-2008) depicted the everyday life of the Jews of southern Morocco in the years preceding their mass exodus to Israel.

For centuries they had lived side by side with the Berbers of the region. Harrus was fascinated by these people, with whom he felt an intimate bond as a Moroccan Jew.

His photos have an intensity that only an insider can achieve.

Harrus was closely involved in the welfare of the Moroccan Jewish community, as is also shown by his photos of pupils at Alliance Israélite Universelle schools.

He worked for this international Jewish organisation, dedicated to the emancipation of Jews in Muslim countries, throughout his life.

In 2008, the Jewish Historical Museum commissioned Dutch photographer Pauline Prior to visit Morocco and to photograph the remains that testify to the centuries of Jewish life in the Atlas mountains and the Sahara.

Prior also visited Casablanca, where a small Jewish community maintains the characteristic Moroccan Jewish traditions. These ancient customs are also kept up in the countries in which Moroccan Jews have settled.

Prior photographed hillula ceremonies and celebrations in both Morocco and Israel marking the anniversary of the death of saints, deceaseda rabbis with reputed powers of intercession.

The photos and film fragments in the exhibition tell the tale of the emigration of the Jews of Morocco to Israel and the factors that led to the end of the long sojourn of the Jews among the Berbers.

The exhibition presents the history of the Jews of southern Morocco. The Jews of northern Morocco, beyond the Atlas mountains, are a different story. There, where Arab culture dominates, other historical factors determined the course of events.

The museum’s education department invited a group of children from Dutch families with Moroccan roots to film the reactions and stories of their relatives upon seeing the photos taken by Elias Harrus and Pauline Prior.

An extensive programme of activities is planned to accompany the exhibition, including a Mimuna event on 26 April, about the traditional Moroccan Jewish conclusion to Passover.

The exhibition Morocco: Photos by Elias Harrus and Pauline Prior will run from 24 April – 18 September 2009 at the Jewish Historical Museum, Nieuwe Amstelstraat 1, Amsterdam, Holland.