Sunday, January 22, 2012

Morocco day 2

This morning we went to the souk in taroudant. A typical middle eastern market place complete with a snake charmer and fried doughnuts which were hung on cords of green string.  We found this antique shop which was auctioning a talit and two safer Torah covers. It disturbed me a bit, the thought that something which was sacred to my religion was being sold in a Moroccan souk to the highest bidder. Afterwards we were told that these artifacts were most likely stolen and that to buy it- to redeem it in a sense- would simply encourage more theft from the still functioning synagoges in morocco. 

From the souk we traveled to a Berber village, it's streets made of only dirt and dust, adobe buildings sprawled throughout it's  small settlement in the middle of the inhospitable desert.  As we walked, children rode on bicycles besides us, and men, women and children stood at the entryways to their houses to see who these visitors were. Rafi our guide introduced us to an old Berber man and explained to us that when he had come to this village some years ago he had seen this man in a cafe shop and asked him if he know of any Jews who had lived here. The man answered Rafi by producing a key and asking him why it had taken him 45 years to return. This key, which we were shown-made of wood with two knowbs protruding to fit the holes in the door, was the key to the synagoge. Recently thanks to kivunim funds and Rafi's efforts the synagoge had been restored. The synagoge was small, will a mikvah adjacent to it in an even smaller room next door. On the walls of the synagoge were the words mizrach and marav in Hebrew, and an inscription that read "ani ldodi vdodi li". The ark was still there- a small wooden one, decorated with intricate patterns and bright colors. We were told that this Shul was over 850 yrs old. The man was elderly and couldn't remember much about the Jews who had left the village when he was age 15 and had entrusted him with the key. In past years on kivunim visits he had been able to recall Moroccan melodies for shalom eleycham, now however he only repeated a few Hebrew phrases and greetings he remembered overhearing over 50 years ago. Incredible, that something which to us was history, a people that lived here long before I was even a thought was ingrained in this mans mind. As we filed out the small building the man said he remembered a musical instrument the Jews used to play. He took hallel's saxophone and began to trumpet upon it. Though i didn't see the player of the instrument I did here the cacophonous sounds echoing of the walls of the dirt building and wondered why hallel had decided we all deserved headaches. Only after was I told that what had reverberated through the room was the sound of the old Berber man mimicking the shofar's sound of "'truahhh".

Before we left we had a plaque hung. This plaque had all our names, and the names of past kivunim students written on it, and explained that this synagoge had been restored with the help of kivunim. It then wrote that the Shul restoration had been completed in honor of the elderly Berber man, a righteous gentile, who had taken upon himself to preserve a heritage which was not his, displaying the relationship that had existed between Jews and moroccans throughout history.

After visiting the synagoge we had a lunch of shashukah and bread at the Berber mans house, before climbing back on board our buses to begin our ten hour trek to the Sahara desert. Arab hospitality is astounding. Though I am sure he was payed for the meal he provided, he welcomed over 60 strangers who spoke a langage he didnt understand into his home. The girls were even allowed to meet the women of the household and get a tour of their kitchen and rooftop. What a pity that in America the idea of true hospitality is one that is foreign to us, and welcoming someone into ones home is considered a charity rather then a responsibility. 

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