ASIAN JEWISH LIFE A JOURNAL OF SPIRIT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE SPRING 2010
Replanting Roots in Shanghai Architect Haim Dotan’s journey
India Journal- Life with the Bene Ephraim The Death Penalty
What Asia can learn from Judaism Cover photo (from left): Haim Dotan’s aunt, mother and grandmother
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ASIAN JEWISH LIFE
A JOURNAL OF SPIRIT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE
India Journal- Life with the Bene Ephraim by Bonita Nathan Sussman and Gerald Sussman 4 Eating Kosher Dog Meat Jewish in Guiyang by Susan Blumberg-Kason 9
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Through the Eyes of ZAKA by Jana Daniels 12 MFA Q&A Interview with Ambassador Yaron Mayer 16 Replanting Roots in Shanghai Architect Haim Dotan’s journey by Erica Lyons 18
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A Palate Grows in Brooklyn Birth of a foodie by Sandi Butchkiss 23 Poetry by Rachel DeWoskin
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The Death Penalty: What Asia can learn from Judaism by Michael H. Fox 28 Learning to Speak A cross-cultural love story by Tracy Slater 32
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Book Reviews by Susan Blumberg-Kason
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Places I Love 36 Expat Diary by Craig Gerard 37 Film in Focus 38
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Inbox
Dear Editor, It was with surprise and pleasure that I received the inaugural issue of Asian Jewish Life. Surprise, because I didn’t know this idea was even a twinkle in somebody’s eye; pleasure, because I was absolutely thrilled to see a publication address this unmet need. The Sino-Judaic Institute has been working in the field of Jewish-Chinese relations since 1985 and we marvel at the changes we’ve seen in the past 25 years. Your magazine is one significant indication of the growth and maturation of Jewish life in Asia. We look forward to years of cooperation with your magazine and to the furthering of Jewish-Asian relations and to Jewish life in the “Far East”.
Menorah at the Forbidden City, photo by Nicholas Frisch
Rabbi Anson Laytner President Sino-Judaic Institute Dear Rabbi Laytner, We look forward to working with the Sino-Judaic Institute in the future. Thank you for your 25 years of pioneering scholarship in this important field. Erica Lyons Editor-in-Chief
Dear Editor, I just received the AJL first issue and wanted to send you my congratulations. It has an attractive look, interesting stories and seems to have a long future ahead. What I would have liked to see was a “Mission Statement”, presenting the purpose and logic behind the magazine. In your Editor Mission piece, you really only touched briefly on those issues, using most of the column to thank people, explain what was in this issue, etc. Since this is a new journal, it might be a good idea to introduce the reader to some of your ideas, plans and themes which you feel should be part of future issues and get feedback from readers as well. All the best,
Dear Rabbi Oseran: The feedback is much appreciated. The Editor’s letter in this issue explains more about Asian Jewish Life’s mission and direction. While we do not ‘theme’ our issues, we start with a focus to help loosely guide us in choosing articles. The current issue has a food focus running through it. Other issues will focus on education, travel and historical preservation. We welcome suggestions and comments from readers at info@asianjewishlife.org. Erica Lyons Editor-in-Chief
COPYRIGHT Asian Jewish Life is the sole title published by Asian Jewish Life Ltd. © Copyright 2010. Written material and photographs in the magazine or on the website may not be used or reproduced in any form or in any way without express permission from the editor. Printed by: Fantasy Printing Ltd. 1/F, Tin Fung Ind. Mansion, 63 Wong Chuk Hang Rd, Hong Kong.
ASIAN JEWISH LIFE
See your photos here submissions@asianjewishlife.org
How to reach us: Online http://www.asianjewishlife.org Email us: info@asianjewishlife.org On Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/ Asian-Jewish-Life/183624201891
Rabbi Joel D. Oseran Vice President, International Development World Union for Progressive Judaism
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David Rose, Rafael Aharoni (in ZAKA vest). Yehuda Meshi-Zahav and Motti Bukchin (left to right)
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On Twitter: at AsianJewishLife Asian Jewish Life Suite 804, Winning House 10-16 Cochrane Street Central, Hong Kong Fax (852) 2868 4227
DISCLAIMER
AJL does not vouch for the kashrut of any product in this publication.
EditorMission
Asia. E-mails and Facebook messages flood in from Jews married to Asians, Jews whose families made Asia home sometime ago, Asian children adopted by Jewish families and children with one Asian parent and one Jewish parent. AJL has clearly hit a nerve. As one Facebooker responded, “Nice to know there are others like me.”
Dear Readers: This past month I was invited to speak at The United Jewish Congregation of Hong Kong before a group of women for their monthly Rosh Chodesh gathering. They asked me to speak about the vision behind Asian Jewish Life. In preparation for the evening, I outlined what I wanted to cover which forced me to really reexamine Asian Jewish Life’s mission. Reflecting on how it all started, I realized that the attack on Mumbai played a significant role behind my drive to see this project get off the ground. The attack unified Jews in Hong Kong and Jews in other communities in a way that had rarely been seen before. In the days of watching the events unfold and the communal mourning period that followed, I saw how inextricably linked we were as Jews. Though we hail from seemingly different backgrounds, Diaspora Jews and Israelis, secular and Orthodox, young and old, our lives are inextricably intertwined. Any Jew living in Asia could immediately connect with the Holzbergs obm. We all have been touched by members of our own community who are so like them. We all ‘knew them’. It is this interconnectedness of Jewish Asia that I wanted to convey in AJL.
This issue of Cover Story is the remarkable story of the creation of the Israeli Pavilion at the Shanghai Expo and how it is really part of a journey of architect Haim Dotan’s search for his family’s roots in Shanghai. Taking us through India into the world of the Bene Ephraim, is Bonita Sussman in her piece India Journal. We also go to Myanmar for an in-depth Q&A with the Israeli Ambassador to Myanmar, Yaron Mayer. On a more somber note, we include a photo essay marking the launch of ZAKA Hong Kong, Macau, & China. Additionally, journalist Michael Fox has written a thought provoking Viewpoint piece on Japan, the Death Penalty and Judaism. This issue also includes an interview with author Mike Levy, who recently published a book, Kosher Dog Meat, that chronicles his experience as a Jew in the Peace Corp in a remote province of China. Other features in this issue include a memoir, A Palate Grows in Brooklyn, by Sandi Butchkiss, and a touching essay, Learning to Speak- A cross-cultural love story by Tracy Slater. The popular Expat Diary is back with a look at life raising a Jewish child in Cambodia, by Craig Gerard, as well as Places I Love, a travel-geared section that gives personalities a chance to tell readers about their favorite places in Asia and Israel. We would love to hear from you to know what types of articles you particularly enjoy and what types of articles you would like to see. This is meant to be a collective reflection of all of our experiences. Enjoy!
The readership of Asian Jewish Life, however, is already growing far beyond just reaching those of us that live in
Erica Lyons
ASIAN JEWISH LIFE A JOURNAL OF SPIRIT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE SPRING 2010
Replanting Roots in Shanghai Architect Haim Dotan’s journey
India Journal- Life with the Bene Ephraim The Death Penalty
What Asia can learn from Judaism Cover photo (from left): Haim Dotan’s aunt, mother and grandmother
Asian Jewish Life is a free quarterly publication designed to share regional Jewish thoughts, ideas and culture and promote unity. It also celebrates our individuality and our diverse backgrounds and customs. Asian Jewish Life has been granted provisional tax exempt/ charitable status from the Hong Kong SAR. Editor in Chief Erica Lyons Copy Editor Dorri Ramati Books Editor Susan Blumberg-Kason Design Director Edward Hanapole Designer Terry Chow Board of Directors Eli Bitan, Bruce Einhorn, Peter Kaminsky, Amy Mines
Editor-in-Chief
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by Bonita Nathan Sussman and Gerald Sussman
India Journal Life with the Bene Ephraim
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n south-eastern India, isolated from the established Jewish communities of India and world Jewry, live the Bene Ephraim of Kotah Reddy Palem, India in the central state of Andra Pradesh.
From 19 July to 7 August 2007, my husband and I visited with this unknown Jewish community as volunteers for the outreach organization Kulanu. This small community’s needs are great but they are hospitable and warm, eager to reconnect and establish connections with the worldwide community of Jews. They are led by Sadok Yacobi, the spiritual leader of their congregation. Since our visit, the Bene Ephraim have begun to reenter the consciousness of World Jewry. In 2007, Sharon Galsulkar, of the Jewish Education department of O.R.T. India, was introduced by us to the Bene Ephraim, to further help this community reconnect with their Jewish roots. In 2008, in cooperation with Kulanu, Sharon went to teach in this community and the visit was documented in Jonas Pariente’s film, “Next Year in Mumbai.” Kulanu has also helped start a micro-loan system to enable
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families to receive small loans for farming. Money has also been raised by Rabbi Marvin Tokayer to purchase buffalo for families interested in increasing their income by selling buffalo milk. Michael Freund of Shavei Yisrael, has become involved with the Bene Ephraim and is overseeing a project to translate some of the Hebrew liturgy into Telegu. Here is our journey:
Music, drums and flowers We finally landed yesterday at around 3:30. On the way were greeted with flowers by Sadok’s daughters and nephews in Hyderabad, where we changed planes. A delegation of people from the community then met us when we landed in Vijayawada and accompanied us by cab to Guntur where we checked into Hotel Geetha. It was hot that July, but not much hotter than New York in the hottest part of the summer. Our hotel had marble floors and a good pure-vegetarian restaurant downstairs which was beneficial for us since we eat only kosher food. Sadok found us transportation in a car to ride the 20 minutes from Guntur
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by Bonita Nathan Sussman and Gerald Sussman to Kothareddipalem. We planned to spend Shabbat with the community in the village. When we arrived at the village, we were greeted by a delegation that gave us garlands of fresh flowers and escorted us, with music and drums, to the synagogue, which had a very large welcome sign for us on the front gate.The Bene Ephraim community was very happy to get the chumashim, tapes, and other books and things that we had brought in our suitcases. A paper Sefer Torah of reasonable size was another gift. We explained to them that they could use this as a symbol for a Sefer Torah. Other gifts included a havdalah candle, a seder plate, haggadot, hand-baked matzah shemurah from Israel, and other odds and ends.
Shabbat in the Village Shabbat in the village was quite an experience. The synagogue consisted of a one-room concrete building with electricity but no running water. It doubled as the home of Sadok and his family. When Shabbat or another large gathering occurred, they had to move their two cots to the side, and various things were put on the shelves. On Shabbat, we slept in the shul while Sadok’s family slept in the courtyard. This experience isn’t for everyone. My husband, myself and what we called the “Shabbat rat” shared the small shul together. We quickly became quite fond of the lizards and chemelions too. The outhouse had a toilet that was nonflushable. It was hot and had lots of flies. There was no running water, refrigeration or Western comforts. Sadok’s family cooked on one small gas burner. On Shabbat morning, the place was completely full. Everyone sat on the floor except for us, Sadok, and one of the elders. There was no room for anyone else. Their service consists mostly of translations of sections of the service in Telegu. The children all read Hebrew and know brachot. The women sat separately from the men during the service and they (including the girls) covered their hair with the saris. The girls made the blessing on the tallit too. They were aware that they should not cook on Shabbat, but since there was no refrigeration, they do. They also had someone who acts as a “shochet.” He asked my husband to show him how to slaughter a chicken or a buffalo in a kosher manner, the way the rest of the Jewish community has traditionally done. My husband laughed and said while he was a rabbi, and learned the laws of Shecita (slaughtering), he did not know how to demonstrate it, since he buys meat from a butcher shop back home. In the end, we said we would try to find a shochet in India which could teach him.
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by Bonita Nathan Sussman and Gerald Sussman On Shabbat, we went over the Jewish holiday picture book Kulanu members sent us with and I explained Yom Hashoa, Yom Haatzmaut, Yom Yerushalayim and Yom Hazikaron, which they knew nothing about. We also taught them havdallah, which they promised they would now do. We also played games with the children consisting of a wooden aleph bet block set. Everyone had to pick out the letters of their names. The blocks have nekudot (vowels) on them too and they had to find them as well. Also we bought a beautiful children’s book which those who know English translate for the others. They recited the months and days of the week in Hebrew for us. Sadok told us that there are about 15 children from the community attending school. He took a loan for his children’s education and is paying 120% interest. The local newspaper said they are beginning to put legislation in place around these moneylending practices. As soon as we heard the congregation pray, we decided we wanted to record their liturgical music. After Shabbat we brought a tape recorder to record their music. Some of their liturgical compositions are of the Shema and Esa Ainai, and Yevarechecha. We taught them some American Jewish favorites of Shabbat Shalom, Am Yisrael Chai, Shalom Chaverim, Hinai Matov and Eretz Aavat Chalav Udevash.
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A Year of Holidays We observed one actual holiday while we were there — Tisha B’Av. It was a new holiday for them. We explained it and told a long version of the story of Kamtsa and Bar Kamsta. We sang Im Eshkachech Yerushalyim and read excerpts from Aichah and Kinot. Quite a few, I’m told, fasted though I’m not sure if they meant from eating and drinking or just from eating. We taught the holidays in their order, starting with Sukkot. We had the children draw pictures of their succah, and they all signed their names in Hebrew. When we taught about Chanukah, we made levivot (latkes) for everyone. I bought lots of potatoes and onions; Mrs. Yacobi and daughters peeled, I chopped onions, and we made levivot for about 50 people. The women were given the recipe for next Chanukah. In addition to Chanukah, we taught about Purim. I bought some magic markers and the kids made masks of Indian Queen Esther and Mordecai. On the Queen Esther masks, some of the girls drew the “bindi” the red dot placed between a girl’s eyes to make her more beautiful. Sadok’s wife asked to learn matzo baking. Until now, they just used chapatis (flat Indian bread made with oil, flour, and
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by Bonita Nathan Sussman and Gerald Sussman salt), but there was a picture in one of the holiday books that shows an Indian woman baking matzo. She was pictured wearing a sari and had a star on her forehead. This peaked their curiosity. In response to Mrs. Yacobi’s request for a matzo recipe, I bought a roller and a fork to pierce holes in it, and she had the flour. (In India they don’t own forks, only spoons). We didn’t have an oven, so we used a flat skillet (like one you could make pancakes on). The matzos came out looking perfect!. Mrs. Yacobi’s daughters helped too. We found out later on in our trip, that the Jews of Cochin made matzos the same way. We also brought the leftover hand-baked matzo shemurah from Israel that we had from Pesach. We gave out this matzo too. They made a Shecheyanu. I must say that this matzo baking was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. Just to watch this all happen for the first time in the community was a truly moving spiritual experience. Mrs. Yacobi said she will teach all the women how to do this and they will have real matzo this year for the first time, not chapati as they were used to. We also taught about the use of tefillin and discussed Jewish weddings. The community told us that they circumcise their sons on the eighth day of life.
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“God’s People” The closing ceremony was somewhat of a love festival. We asked them about their origins. They told us that they had a tradition that said they came to India in 722, after the fall of Samaria, from Assyria to Persia to Afghanistan to Kashmir and somehow to where they are now. What they said was a little bit confusing because they also said that there was a period where they worshipped idols like Hindus. They made some connection between themselves and the Madiga people, a group of untouchables. Since their ancestors made sacrifices, they knew about slaughtering animals, which was the traditional work of the Madiga peoples. They said that the Hindus also referred to them as “God’s people” and asked their advice on butchering animals. We are coming home with what we feel is a huge responsibility to get the word out about this community.
Gerald and Bonita Sussman are native New Yorkers and have interests in developing religiously and economically emerging and returning Jewish communities around the globe. Photographs are courtesy of the Sussmans.
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Eating Kosher Dog Meat Jewish in Guiyang
Spring Festival feast
In 2005, American Mike Levy touched down in Chengdu, China as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Posted to Guizhou University for two years, he kept a blog to process his new experiences in China. At the end of this year, these experiences will be published in a book titled Kosher Dog Meat (Henry Holt). Asian Jewish Life sat down with Levy to discuss what it meant to be a Jew in the interior of China, far from the expat comforts in the coastal cities.
is a great title. What does it mean? Mike Levy: Kosher Dog Meat is about living as a Peace Corps Volunteer in western China. More specifically, it’s about living as the only Jew in a province of 40 million people. Most of my friends and colleagues at Guizhou University knew a bit about Judaism, and a bit more about the western world in general, but there was lots of room for us to stumble through some miscommunication.
example, a local dog eating festival coincided with Christmas. A lot of my students wanted to work to combine the holidays so we could all celebrate together. I explained to them that I had little interest in eating dog, and even less in Christmas. This caused something of a scandal. “Americans celebrate Christmas,” they insisted. Christianity and America were as linked in their minds as Communism and China are linked in the minds of many Americans.
Asian Jewish Life: KOSHER DOG MEAT
During my first year in Guiyang, for
So it was that I was invited to play Santa
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by Susan Blumberg-Kason
Claus in the city’s Walmart. As for eating dog? I told my students about the laws of kashrut in an attempt to avoid participation. One of my more creative students told me she would buy me dog meat from Walmart. She assumed that as a western store, it would carry kosher versions of dog (and everything else). A Jewish Santa Claus eating “kosher” dog meat? It was one hell of a Christmas. AJL: You join a prestigious group of Peace Corps Volunteers who have written books about China. How does yours differ? ML: I should start by saying that one of Peace Corps’ main goals is to create alumni with a life-long commitment to building bridges between their local communities in the United States and the communities they served as volunteers. I think it’s this goal that drives so many PC alums towards writing, and I have tremendous respect for previous writers. I just finished reading Pete Hessler’s new book on China and it’s his best yet. As for Kosher Dog Meat, I think it’s a much more light-hearted book than some of the others I’ve read. I spent most of my two years somewhere in between a state of hilarious laughter and total confusion. The other big difference: as far as I know this is the only book written by a Peace Corps Volunteer that includes Communist Party officials praising the author for his distant relationship to his “Jewish brother” Karl Marx. AJL: Do you keep kosher?
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identity change as a result of your experience in China? ML: If American culture and Chinese culture are two parts of a Venn diagram, Judaism might be the strange portion where they overlap. In the politically conservative environment of Guiyang, my hosts would often nod happily when I told them I Levy in Guiyang was Jewish. Marx and Einstein were the only other two Jews ML: Yes! Or Kosher-style, perhaps, they knew, so I was in good company. since I eat when I am a guest in another My Judaism also assured them that person’s home, regardless of what they’ve unlike the other handful of foreigners in cooked. It’s hard to be a 21st century Jew. town, I was not a missionary. Judaism I can’t help but think of Jonathan Safran was sort of like a grappling hook I could Foer’s recent book, Eating Animals. What use to get over the Great Wall of Chinese should we be eating? What is healthy? culture. What is moral? What connects us to My Jewish identity did change during people and to our history and traditions, my time in China. Back home in Philly, I and what creates distance? I think about went to synagogue every morning before these questions quite a bit. heading off to work. Jewish holidays While I was living in Guiyang, I ate were happy, family affairs. But all of whatever I was served. I wanted to be this disappeared for two years. For long as fully integrated into my community as stretches of time, I felt spiritually isolated. possible, and eating (and drinking! Holy In order to survive, I had to find other crap I downed a lot of baijiu!) was the ways to get by. Baijiu helped. But primary ways for me to show my respect. beyond drunken banquets, I realized that Peace Corps is pretty good about all I really needed to feel spiritual was training its volunteers to engage in a nice long walk, a quiet evening with listening and learning rather than friends, and some way to connect with lecturing and imposing. I knew I couldn’t family (even if it’s digital). go to a place half-way around the world AJL: Did you have a favorite Jewish and have any answers. Instead, I tried holiday before you moved to China? If to immerse myself in my community; so, what was it? How did you spend it I learned far more from China than the in China? other way around. And in that spirit I ate pork. And scorpion. And dog. And they ML: My favorite night of the year, every were all pretty yummy. year, is the first night of Passover. I’ve been hosting a Seder for years and I AJL: Compared to the other Peace carried this tradition into Guiyang. I Corps Volunteers in China, do you think hosted one Seder for fellow Peace Corps your experience there differed because Volunteers, and one for my Chinese of your Judaism? And did your Jewish
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by Susan Blumberg-Kason
friends. In both cases, I was the only Jew, but that didn’t really seem to matter. One of my Chinese teachers taught me a phrase, 內外有別, which basically means China treats insiders and outsiders differently. This phrase was definitely in operation in Guiyang—everyone was friendly, but foreigners were kept at an arm’s length. It took me more than a year to really get past nei wai you bie, and part of what helped me do it was a sort of holiday exchange. During the holidays (both Chinese and Jewish), the phrase crumbled away. I shared Passover with my students and they reciprocated by inviting me to their homes for Spring Festival. We both opened ourselves up to something new, and as a result politics, stress, and difference receded into the background. AJL: When people you met in China learned you were Jewish, had most heard of Judaism? Did you find yourself teaching Judaism 101? Or did you find yourself trying to dispel Jewish stereotypes? ML: Judaism was fairly two-dimensional in the minds of most Guizhou residents, though they knew more about my culture than I knew about theirs. Before arriving, I had never heard of the Bouyei, the Miao, or the Dong, three of the ethnic groups that made up about half of the province’s population. My friends and hosts were usually glad to hear that I, too, was an ethnic minority, especially one from such a clever, wealthy group. (Sadly, these Jewish stereotypes seem global, and I often had to brush aside assumptions that I was a banker, that I was as smart as Einstein, or that I was as red as Uncle Karl).
AJL: How much did you know about China before you learned you were going there? Did you have an interest in China or Asia before you decided to join the Peace Corps? ML: Before Peace Corps told me I was heading to China, I knew so little about Various tonic drinks the country, its history, its language, and its culture that I never brought Judaism up myself, but I’m surprised I could make any sense it came up with surprising frequency. In of the world. When I arrived in China, I some cases, this was because the folks couldn’t even say ni hao, and for months in Guiyang were so used to Christian I didn’t know la jiao from hua jiao. missionaries that they assumed I must be yet another arrogant American come AJL: Do you get back to China much? to spread his strange ideas about God. Will you do a book tour in China or Hong To cut through this, I would usually say I Kong? was Jewish. My hosts would usually be ML: I get back every summer, usually relieved to hear this. with students from the school I teach In other cases, Judaism came up at here in America. I desperately miss because my students were genuinely much of the life I lived in Guiyang, and curious about what it’s like to live in a hope to live in China again as soon as country and culture imbued with overt the pieces fall into place. religiosity. Maoism certainly took on the I do plan to do a book tour in both the trappings of a cult, but kids in Guiyang mainland and in Hong Kong. But this today don’t even have that to lean on. A won’t happen until summer of 2011 lot of them expressed a sort of existential which feels like a lifetime away. crisis one wouldn’t expect from an 18 year old. They were searching for AJL: What does the future hold? Do you a set of values in a world that was plan to write another book? quickly changing and not having much luck. Buddhism? Gone. Confucius? ML: I’m working on a project now looking Abandoned. Communism? Laughable. at Peace Corps over its first 50 years. The organization hits the half-century Maybe the Jewish guy has answers? I mark this summer. Is it still relevant? could have been the next Jesus! Does it need to outgrow its hippy origins, or is it on to something? How should Just kidding. But in all seriousness, there America throw its weight around? More was a lot of curiosity about Judaism and Peace Corps? Or perhaps more Marine about western belief systems in general. Corps? With luck, this project will turn I tried to answer questions as honestly as into another book, but who knows what I could, though I’m sure some of it was the future will bring... lost in translation.
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ZAKA’s Yehuda Meshi-Zahav in the aftermath of the Tsunami
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Best of AJL by Jana Daniels
Through the eyes of
ZAKA
Yehuda Meshi-Zahav, the founder of ZAKA, speaks with a soft voice, a wizened face and eyes that have seen far too much. He explains to the audience of a small gathering the evening before the official launch of ZAKA Hong Kong, Macao & China that in Israel there are no exports of any real value: there is no oil, no diamonds, no coal, only the basic tenets of the sacredness of life, the essential duty to be humanitarian and the core value of respect for others. Though no value listed on the world’s commodities markets, these exports carry a great weight and responsibility, he explains. Meshi-Zahav is no stranger to the limelight in Israel, often featured in headlines on the unpopular side of heated controversies. But his visionary leadership of ZAKA has seemingly erased the boundaries between right and left, the ultra-orthodox and the secular, Jew and non-Jew, Israeli and non-Israeli. The following evening at the official launch, keynote speaker Yaacov Peri, a legendary figure in Israel and former Director of the Israel Security Agency, jokes that ZAKA is about the only thing there is a clear consensus about in Israel. Sometimes this is seemingly not far from
the truth and, truth be told, in the court of popular world opinion ZAKA is one of the few things that virtually everyone will accept about Israel at face value. To my American friends, ZAKA are the guys in Israel in the yellow vests on CNN that make sure religious Jews have a proper burial. It is arguably only as of recent years that ZAKA has begun to internationally market its primary export, the values of the Jewish people. Most recently, ZAKA captured the world’s attention with their humanitarian aid to disaster-ravaged Haiti. World media finally bought their export and showed the extraordinary efforts of these Israelis determined to save as many lives as possible irrespective of nationality, race or religion. This is a core Jewish value and one that Israel was founded on, but somehow one that is too often passed over by international media. Yehuda Meshi-Zahav’s speech at the official launch described the efforts and recovery work the ZAKA teams committed in Haiti to locate the body of a sole missing Canadian Jewish businessman, Alexander Bitton. In rotating teams, ZAKA volunteers worked for over a month at the site of
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the Montana Hotel until his body was ultimately recovered. The understanding of the value of the importance of even a single life is what gave these rotating teams the strength to tirelessly work to find one man. It is not about the numbers, though they saved many lives and recovered countless bodies. There is little mention of teams staving off the physical and emotional pain of the task. Despite the fact that ZAKA was among the first international aid organizations to arrive, they regret only not having arrived sooner. As ZAKA volunteer Arele Klein, blogged from the mission in Haiti, “We can’t count the number of bodies transferred for burial in a mass grave. The human brain cannot absorb the quantity of bodies that we have been exposed to in these first few days in Haiti. I discover a strange sight at one of the mass graves families have a special tune that they sing at the graveside, a song that moves back and forth from song to tears, singing and crying. Who can understand it?” This is the world through the eyes of ZAKA. In Asia, ZAKA was instrumental after the Tsunami in 2004 in the systematic identification of thousands of bodies,
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allowing countless family members a bit of comfort in the knowledge that their loved one would be buried with dignity and they would be given some sense of closure. ZAKA returned to Thailand three years later immediately following the crash of One-Two-Go airlines in Phuket in 2007. The responders made that trip with images of the Tsunami still deeply imprinted in their minds. Also in 2007, they again found themselves in route to Thailand to provide assistance following the Koh Phi Phi ferry accident that left one Israeli dead and another seriously injured.
volunteers immediately deployed in response to Mumbai wrote in his blog, “At that very moment, evil murderers were killing their compatriots; our sole desire was to get there and help,” yet he continues, “We say Tehillim (Psalms) and speak words of faith and encouragement… blood, fire and pillars of smoke, Mumbai, Friday, 6.30 am.”
In 2009, after the terror attack in Mumbai they again responded immediately to disaster in Asia. This time was different, as Shuki Brief, one of the six Israeli
The task is grim, the work tireless, the images haunting, but what prevails is the invaluable measure of the commodity of the profound respect for life.
On Friday night, he continues, “The grim moment arrives. Two bodies are dragged out of the door and rapidly put inside a waiting vehicle…But there’s no time for mourning or sadness.”
The newly founded ZAKA Hong Kong, Macao & China will hold a volunteer training program in June 2010 in Hong Kong. For additional information regarding ZAKA contact Lydia Weitzman at lydiaw@netvision.net.il or see their website at www.zaka.us. For inquiries related to the training program contact Rafael Aharoni, President of ZAKA Hong Kong, Macau and China, rafaelco@netvigator.com.
Rescue and identification mission, Phuket plane crash
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Best of AJL by Jana Daniels
Terror in Mumbai, Chabad House
Identification specialists mission, Asia Tsunami
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Search and rescue teams in Haiti
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MFA Q&A
Interview with Ambassador Yaron Mayer
Yaron Mayer joined the Ministry of Foreign Affairs(MFA) of Israel in 1993. He has served in various capacities at Israeli Embassies in Hungary and India and was a deputy director at Southeast Asia Department, Asia and the Pacific Division of the MFA prior to being appointed at the Israeli Ambassador to Myanmar. Ambassador Mayer spoke with Asian Jewish Life in March 2010. The full text of this interview can be found on our website at www.asianjewishlife.org.
QQ Why does Israel have
an embassy in Myanmar? Israel and Myanmar’s relationship goes back to the early fifties when both countries were newly born and under unique circumstances. We both benefited from the special relationship with each other. Last year we marked 55 years of the establishment of embassies in both countries. Both Israel and Myanmar kept their embassies open throughout the years. The friendship and good feelings between the two peoples also contributes hugely to people-to-people contacts in the forms of tourism, trainings, exposures and humanitarian projects. Israel believes that there is potential for further economic and trade relations with Myanmar and also recognizes the strategic importance of Myanmar. Hence it is imperative to keep our embassy in Myanmar.
QQ Is Israel involved with
the preservation of the synagogue or the Jewish cemetery? The Embassy of Israel in Yangon is in close contact with the local Jewish community as well as with Jews of Myanmar origin who visit the country. Naturally we are involved in various aspects of these matters. However, it should be mentioned that generally the Jewish community or Jewish people have no problems in this country.
QQ What aid did Israel
Ambassador Yaron Mayer
as well as from private citizens came to Myanmar right after Cyclone Nargis. Israel provided medicine & medical equipment, training to local volunteers, consultations to Government and civil society organizations. Soon after the cyclone, Israeli disaster management experts immediately arrived to assist in relief efforts. Beside the support of Government agencies like MASHAV, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ministry of Health, I can mention the immediate response of organizations such as IsraAid, Israel Flying Aid, FIRST, LATET, MDA Kibbutz Movement, the JDC and Benei Britt. Cyclone Nargis hit right at a time when Israel Embassy in Yangon was preparing its 60th Independence Day event. The then ambassador, Mrs. Ruth Schatz promptly decided to cancel the event and diverted its budget towards the relief efforts.
QQ Is the Israeli aid for
provide to Myanmar during Cyclone Nargis in 2008?
cyclone struck areas continuing?
Israel aid and assistance from Government and various Israeli NGOs
Israel, in cooperation with local partners, is actively involved in
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reconstruction of few villages in the delta region building schools, providing livelihood support and trainings to promote psycho-social support for trauma recovery. So far 3 primary schools are being rebuilt along with other amenities such as bridges, latrines, etc in all respective villages. These activities are undertaken in collaboration between the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, MASHAV (the Israeli agency for International cooperation) and above mentioned civil society organizations.
QQ In what other
humanitarian aid projects is Israel involved? Israel is active in various humanitarian and health projects. One major one that was initiated last year was the ‘Eye from Zion’ project, which brought a delegation of eye surgeons from Israel’s best hospitals and provided two weeks of free eye treatment and training in three locations in Myanmar. The Embassy of Israel in Yangon facilitated this project in cooperation with the Ministry of Health, Union of Myanmar.
MFA Q&A
Interview with Ambassador Yaron Mayer
Another significant project is in the area HIV/AIDS of prevention and treatment. Collaboration between Myanmar Business Coalition on AIDS (MBCA) and Jerusalem AIDS Project (JAIP) provides opportunities for training and exposure visits to successful programs and projects in Israel whereby Myanmar participants gain hands-on learning of best-practice methodologies and approaches from Israel’s experienced organizations. Israel’s HIV/AIDS experts also come to Myanmar to share insights and experiences with local HIV organizations and agencies. A new field of cooperation is in hydrotherapy. Two physiotherapists from Myanmar’s “EDEN”, a private institute for children with disabilities, have been sent to Israel to receive training and diploma in the field of hydrotherapy which marks the first hydro-therapy facility in Myanmar.
QQ Is Israel providing any
assistance to Myanmar on water issues and agriculture?
Agriculture and water management is the main field of cooperation between our two countries. Israel receives annually more than 100 trainees from Myanmar and also provides on the spot tailor made training in Myanmar through MASHAV. The director general of Myanmar’s ministry of Irrigation participated last year in WATEC exhibition in Israel and following up to this visit, more collaboration is now under consideration. Israeli private companies in the field of water and agriculture are also active in Myanmar.
contacts is still relatively small and we hope that economic reforms in Myanmar will enable business people from both sides to enhance their business ventures. I see three main fields that we should promote, firstly, the field of agriculture and water technology, which is already being explored but the potential is much higher. Secondly in field of telecommunication and information technology, many Israeli companies have world-known standards. Thirdly, there is much scope in the field of medical equipment and pharmaceutical industries. Currently Israel imports from Myanmar traditional items like rice, textile, teak wood, gems and exports to Myanmar telecommunication equipments as well as other high-tech technologies. Several cultural and educational events in the field of music, cinematography, bible teaching and art exhibitions have been organized by the embassy in the last few years. We believe that culture is useful to create better understanding and provide platform for people-topeople dialogue. We also encourage Myanmar art expositions and cultural activities in Israel. This year, the first Holocaust Memorial ceremony was held in Myanmar, which was jointly organized by UNIC, the German Embassy and the Embassy of Israel. The event was hugely significant and drew much interest from various circles.
QQ What was Myanmar’s
position on Goldstone report given the controversy around their record for human rights abuses? Myanmar is reluctant to take public positions on foreign issues and usually prefers to keep silent on such matters. In general, I feel that the Myanmar Government understands the Israeli challenges and supports a peaceful resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
QQ What is the importance of the relationship between Myanmar and Israel? As the twentieth Ambassador of Israel to Myanmar, I feel that we are continuing a tradition that has been developed over the years through the contribution of many people of various backgrounds from both countries. One can appreciate the recent changes taking place in Myanmar. Personally I believe that Myanmar, with its significant history, rich human and natural recourses and unique cultural traditions, has a role to play in the future development of this region. Israel too can play its role and be relevant to this development.
QQ In what commercial
areas is collaboration taking place between Israel and Myanmar? Are there cultural or educational exchanges? The potential for commercial collaboration between Israel and Myanmar is big, similar to commercial ties with other Asian countries. However, the volume of these
Eye from Zion, Israeli humanitarian aid in Myanmar
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CoverStory by Erica Lyons
Replanting Roots in Shanghai Architect Haim Dotan’s journey
Architect Haim Dotan
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CoverStory
by Erica Lyons
T
o understand the importance of the Israel Pavilion in Shanghai, it is necessary to understand the history of the ties that bind these two ancient peoples. The story of the Jewish people in China spans centuries and is one that continues today. Jewish communities grew throughout China, in cities like Kaifeng, Harbin and Tietsin, and the history dates back as far as the 8th century, though none of these communities grew as rapidly or as large as Shanghai. The great influx of Jews to Shanghai began in the second half of the 19th century and continued to grow in bursts through the end of World War II. The city was known as a bustling international trade and commerce hub, free from anti-Semitism and ripe with opportunity. At its height during the Holocaust, this Jewish community, the largest in China, stood at nearly 50,000. While for some it was a haven safe from pogroms and persecution, for others it was a great commercial opportunity, an incredible adventure and a gateway to Asia. The imprint China made on the Jews that lived there was great and deeply personal and there were no shortages of landmarks left behind. These include synagogues, cemeteries, schools, factories, hotel empires and power companies. The collective memory of these two peoples started to grow anew with the formal establishment of diplomatic relations between China and Israel in 1992. A steadily growing exchange in trade, the sciences, technology, art, culture, the environment, humanitarian aid and agriculture has since blossomed. It is in the spirit of this friendship that Israel eagerly accepted the invitation to participate in the Shanghai Expo.
which in turn will contribute to the strengthening of Israel and China’s cultural and economic relations.” For architect Haim Dotan, beneath the shiny uber-modern designed seashell shaped pavilion, there is a deeper message. It is personal. His design reflects a true cultural sensitivity passed on to him by his family. The design, reminiscent of two hands intertwined with one another, marks the culmination of the past, present and future between the Jewish people and China, of his family and the city that sheltered them. It reflects a careful counterbalance of yin and yang, past and present, temporality and eternity, earth and sky, and suggests the influence of eastern philosophy. For Dotan, this journey to China-to Shanghai, is a return to his roots and an unearthing of the story of his family. Now, nearly 100 years later as Dotan creates the foundation for the Israeli pavilion in Shanghai, he still pays great homage to his family’s history. The pavilion, in many ways, stands for the full circle that Dotan himself has symbolically created in his return to Shanghai on behalf of the State of Israel. In 1919, the Saidoff family, Haim Dotan’s grandfather, aunt and grandmother, like others, sought refuge from the pogroms in Bukhara, in the South of Russia. They fled to Shanghai and settled there in search of a new life for themselves. Haim
The Israel pavilion, designed by leading architect Haim Dotan, in collaboration with designer Prosper Amir, stands as a tribute to the history of the Jewish people in China as well as to the over fifty years of friendship between Israel and China. It is also a special expression of gratitude to the Chinese people for providing Jews with a safe haven during the Holocaust. It is an important statement as to the past, present and future friendship of these two nations and their people, each steeped in their own rich history and tradition. To the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, “The character, the content and special building of the Israeli display in Shanghai will demonstrate the possibilities of joining Israeli knowledge with China’s developmental requirements, and bestow an enriching experience on the many visitors expected to visit the pavilion,
ASIAN JEWISH LIFE
Inside the Israel Pavilion
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CoverStory by Erica Lyons
The pavilion at night
Dotan’s mother, Victoria Saidoff, was born in Shanghai during that period. Ultimately the family immigrated to Israel a few years later where Dotan’s grandfather, Isaac Saidoff, a renowned builder, later created the “Batei-Saidoff” complex in Jerusalem. But the move was not without retaining a fondness and gratitude to China for offering them a safe haven. Dotan’s childhood in Jerusalem was dotted with images of Chinese house wares and other trinkets, Chinese paintings and other similar reminders of the family’s passage through China. An iconic and much loved photograph (see cover photo) of his mother, his grandmother, Yaffah, and his aunt Zipora, shows his aunt in the 1930s, in Jerusalem, cloaked in a black Shanghainese dress, very much reminiscent of their days in Shanghai. Dotan speaks of a “quiet love for Chinese culture in the house.” In looking back at their life in Shanghai, Dotan believes his family lived in the Hongkou district, a popular haven for Jews in Shanghai in the early half of the 20th century and was told the family resided possibly on Shapour Street, No. 18. Through the efforts of friends in China eager to help Dotan in his search,
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he discovered that, perhaps instead, it is likely that the family actually lived on Xia Hai Pu Road in the Houkong district located near the Suzhou River. Dontan explains, “In Shanghai, I am a story. I have been searching for my roots in Shanghai since 2005. However, since winning Israel Pavilion in Expo 2010 Shanghai, the pavilion’s beauty and my international reputation as an architect, are a great help in my search through Chinese TV, publications and local newspapers.” While it was his quiet love for China that really inspired Dotan to begin his search for the footprints his family left there, it the Exposition that has made this journey a reality. Certainly his reputation as a master builder and the attention his uniquely designed pavilion is drawing is of great assistance to his personal quest, but even with the interest in this deeply emotional journey, it still can’t overshadow the brilliance of his design. The history and the pavilion, to Dotan, are essentially inextricably linked. As Dotan explains, “So I completed a life cycle and open a new cycle in China as architect of the Israel Pavilion in World EXPO 2010 Shanghai.”
SPRING 2010
CoverStory
by Erica Lyons
Sketch by Haim Dotan
The exhibition stands as a gallery of inspiration and a symbol of the friendship between the two countries. The Whispering Garden, located between the plaza entrance and the Israel Pavilion, greets visitors by whispering in both English and Chinese as they enter the arena via a shaded path lined with trees. In contrast to this serene commune with nature and its introduction to Israeli architecture, the Hall of Light features a 15-meter high screen that flashes with films, highlighting Israel’s technological advancements as well as key historical innovations from Biblical times forward, including a Jewish heritage exhibition. Clear glass allows sunlight to flood the space giving a sense of warmth and optimism. The heart of the exhibition and the climax of the experience, though, lies in the center in the Hall of Innovation at the core of the pavilion. There, dancing light balls illuminate the space and beam messages, in Hebrew and Chinese, connecting Israeli children, scientists, doctors and inventors with the visitors. Then, a dynamic audio-visual presentation of balls of light projected on a 360-degree display highlight some of the most remarkable Israeli achievements in fields that include: archeology, agriculture, medicine, renewable energy, science, music,
ASIAN JEWISH LIFE
literature, R&D and security. While this prodigious interactive displays offers insight into some of the most remarkable Israeli achievements, the piece de resistance however is the message that connects the future of Israeli innovation with that of China. The pavilion is an impressive monument to the future of technology, development and innovation. It is also a clear testimony to the power of Israeli creativity and the Israeli belief in the wonderful possibilities that the future holds for humankind. Israel’s leading innovations and technological developments will be exhibited in this spectacular multi-media show, using the most up-to-date presentation equipment housed in this intricately designed pavilion that stretches across 2,000 square meters. With an eye towards the future, all Shanghai is now abuzz with commotion and frantic activity as the countdown to the Shanghai Expo in May quickens. Even the most staidly of city dwellers is transformed by the atmosphere, yet Dotan’s creation stands out with its quiet love for China, its firmly founded philosophical foundation and its carefully crafted idealism. While speaking to the exhibition theme “Innovation for Better Life”, the pavilion encapsulates past, present and future in the most personal way.
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Writer’sDesk by Sandi Butchkiss
A Palate Grows in Brooklyn Birth of a foodie
In those heady, halcyon days of my childhood, our diversity of gastronomic bliss was taken for granted. Twenty years passed before I realized my palate had been fine-tuned by experts. My father’s flourishing Manhattan business, wiped out due to unforeseen and tragic events, forced our small family to leave our lap of luxury and journey from palatial digs on Riverside Drive, over the bridge and into the heart of Brooklyn. A potentially traumatic move, especially in my tender, formative years, this abrupt change of scenery and pampering withdrawal, bore all the signs of a depressing and bleak future. Instead, as fate would have it, the unforeseen repositioning turned out not to be a negative move at all. On the contrary it was the catalyst for the most exciting cultural awakening of my life. For it was during this time that the full compliment of my senses, my taste buds in particular, leapt gloriously into existence. There were numerous eye-openers in this new, radically different environment, but the diversity and richness of its food and cuisines was awesome. It was my induction into the smells and tastes of ethnic food and the birth of my life-long love affair with gastronomy. Though a mere five or six miles from our former home, our new neighborhood was another world. A veritable melting pot of transplanted Europeans, the heady stew was thick with southern Italians who hailed from Naples and Sicily, Jews
who fled with their lives and not much more from Germany, Poland, Russia and Hungary, small samplings of Estonians, Lithuanians and Latvians, a handful of Spanish and a sprinkling of Irish. There was Joe, our Polish seltzer man, who stopped by monthly to refill our case of Czechoslovakian etched-glass containers. Tony, the Italian fruit and vegetable man, drove his cart and horse down our street, ringing his bell to alert housewives. The Good Humor ice cream man also announced his van’s arrival with a cacophony of tingalings, but we all knew the crucial difference in cadence and timbre. Three blocks away, a bakery supplied our family with wonderful fresh bread daily. Always a long line awaited and you would take a ticket and wait your turn, “Who’s my next?,” the saleswoman behind the counter would call out. “Who’s my next?” I bought a whole seeded rye for six cents and she would place the caraway-
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studded loaf in this amazing electric slicing machine. The button was pressed and it began to whirr and tremble as two rows of blades, like prehistoric metal teeth, moved menacingly toward each other and crossed over, neatly biting the bread into a dozen uniform slices. A bit taken aback at first, I soon became quite enthralled with this magical invention. Years before the first supermarket, s my Mom would sometimes send me to the local dairy for a pound of butter, a quarter pound of cheddar or a portion of pot cheese. The sweet or salty butter and cheddar were cut to order from huge blocks kept in the icebox and the homemade cottage-cheese predecessor was scooped out of a big bowl and spooned into neat little paper containers. No need to buy milk; good old Sam delivered a fresh quart bottle with cream at the top to our door every morning, just in time for breakfast. Mom would skim off the cream for my Dad’s coffee and
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pour the pure milk over my cold corn flakes in summer, oatmeal in winter. All the women had “a special relationship” with the butcher. I wasn’t permitted to deal with him until I was at least twelve. Apparently the high cost of meat made this purchase a job for the more experienced shopper. I tagged along with Mom on these excursions and carefully observed the ritual of smiling demurely and chatting up the man with the blood-flecked apron - a shameless flirtation employed by most to get on his good side and receive some preferential treatment. This coy ploy might result in the acquisition of the choicest cuts for a better price and invariably garner us a few extra little tidbits in the way of highly sought after marrow bones or a few slices of homemade baloney. In later years, I found I could flutter my eyelashes with the best of them. Being second generation Americans, our family’s meal times were rather prosaic and untouched by the likes of imported seasonings or exotic spices. There was salt, pepper and for some reason, a rarely used bottle of paprika. (Dried oregano, chili seeds and Dijon mustard didn’t appear in my Mother’s kitchen until I was in high school.) Meats were grilled or boiled, chickens roasted or boiled, fish fried. Heinz ketchup and tartar sauce, were our condiments of choice. Nothing much changed at our home since we left Manhattan. The word gourmet did not exist in my Mom’s vocabulary. Nary a cookbook was to be seen. But when she gave me a spoon to scrape out the burnt chocolate pudding clinging to the inside of the pot of just-made My-T-Fine, the taste and pleasure it gave me were indescribable. No tiramisu or French mousse that appeared later ever came close. When my school chum, John Acerno, first asked me to his house for dinner it was as if I had entered another country. The unfamiliar intoxicating aromas of
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basil, garlic and pancetta simmering in olive oil wafted out their kitchen window and met me in the street. On contact with this ethereal perfume, my eyes would close, and my mouth water in anticipation and my appetite was whet for what wonderments lay ahead. From that day forward my presence was just as much a staple at the Acerno table, as the pretty tin of extra virgin olive oil and the well-used wooden pepper mill. Typically, a noisy, happy group of eight or more family members and friends, with Mr Acerno, Senior at the helm (the majority, highly vocal in their native tongue) would be seated around a vast oval table that filled an entire room. Spread out before us might be an assortment of antipasti, a mammoth wedge of imported parmesan with its own imported grater, maybe a whole prosciutto ready to be sliced, some freshly-made Sicilian carbonata and the omnipresent loaves of marvelous Italian bread. A thick and hearty minestrone usually came first followed by a stream of heaped platters. Out they came. Spaghetti and meatballs in tomato sauce, baked eggplant parmigana, spinach sautéed in burnt garlic, manicotti stuffed with ricotta, spicy sausages with grilled peppers, roast chicken redolent of rosemary. True to Neapolitan tradition, Momma Acerno wore only black since her father died some twenty years before and kept her long hair twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. I don’t remember ever seeing her without a clean, crisply ironed white apron. And she made every
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luscious bite herself…with her own two hands…from scratch. I was under the impression she never left the kitchen and was stunned one day to bump into her at the bank. The tastes, smells, flavors and presentation of Mama Acerno’s cooking formed my definition of Italian food. Anything less was simply not the real McCoy. Then there was my Russian grandmother. The gustatory experience was equally impressive at her house. A short car ride away and you were back in Ukraine as it might have been in the turn of the 19th century. Here, amongst the trappings of her former life, you could treat your palate to a wide variety of entirely different sensory stimulants. The table was as big and every bit as crowded with chattering people, but this time it was in Russian, Yiddish and various middle European dialects. A couple of Sundays each month we would assemble around the dining table that fit the dining room like a glove. In order to get to your chair, you had to squeeze along between table and wall. Once seated we would start passing platters of homemade chopped liver and onions and bowls of kasha varnishkas. Often there would be chicken soup afloat with amazingly light matzo balls or Jenny’s own handmade noodle kreplach. The kids were treated to a cache of highly sought after bones, filled with marrow ready to be dug out, their ambrosial contents spread on a chunk of sweet bread torn from a knotted loaf of challah. Then came the stuffed cabbage, melt-in-the-mouth brisket of beef, candied carrots, maybe a plate of
Writer’sDesk by Sandi Butchkiss
pizzeria, who poured it from a raffiabottomed bottle of Chianti.
homemade pickled tomatoes or perhaps a bowl of Jenny’s sauerkraut dotted with tiny juniper berries and always a platter of crisply roasted potatoes. My maternal grandmother came from wealthy landowners near Odessa. My grandfather was the son of the people who worked their land. Falling in love while still in their teens, elopement was the only solution. Headstrong and courageous, the young couple packed their belongings, leaving their homeland with the Cossacks nipping at their heels. They eventually sailed to America, got through the checkpoint at Ellis Island and settled in Missouri. They never saw Russia again. Over the years, my grandfather’s little general store blossomed into a prosperous threestory emporium. But my grandmother remained steadfastly in charge of the kitchen. Her repertoire of recipes (not a single sentence committed to paper), with all their myriad details, remained permanently filed in her head, Who needed the Russian Tea Room? It was just a cheap imitation of Grandma Jenny’s. When we did venture out to local restaurants for a change of pace, we experienced the same purity, the same authenticity, the same devotion to ethnicity as in the homes of my grandmother and the Acerno’s. Aside from some teeth-gnashingly sweet sacramental offering sipped on Jewish holidays, my first real glass of wine was given to me on my fifteenth birthday by Mr. Gragnano at his popular local
The neighborhood boasted quite a few Chinese eateries, too. These were family businesses, owned and operated by Chinese, from the cooks to the waiters to the cashier up front who was invariably the wife of the owner. More often than not these gilt-dragon and red-lantern bedecked establishments were set up and run by folks from Hong Kong. While they didn’t live in close proximity, they were certainly “part of the neighborhood.” None of us could have survived very long without consuming some of their delicacies. Infrequently at first, but then as often as once a week, my Dad returned from work and announced he was taking us out for “Chinese.” If Milton Berle or some other hot show was on the tv, he brought the meal back home. It was the Chinese who taught us about take-away. How could we show anything but deep affection for the people who filled our bellies with steaming hot wonton soup, gravy-doused egg foo yung pancakes studded with bits of spring onion, crunchy homemade noodles, tasty yellow fried rice, diced chili chicken with cashews and still hot- from- the- skillet spring rolls. Without a doubt these folks from the East made a distinctive contribution in shaping our culinary prowess and were considered an integral part of our immediate dining family. And, ah, the corner deli. Those were the days before calories and cholesterol where we gorged ourselves on hot pastrami, fat-rimmed corned beef, boiled tongue, hot Reubens oozing melted Swiss cheese and Russian dressing and other thick comfort sandwiches served with sides of quartered pickles, mayo-packed potato salad and creamy coleslaw. How we ever survived this arteryclogging onslaught is a miracle. And
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we didn’t need the excuse of meal time to stop by. Mr Pincus had a huge brine-filled barrel at the end of the store where hundreds of cucumbers were aging gracefully. New pickles at the top, half sours in the middle and at your urging, Mr Pincus would roll up his sleeve and lower his entire arm into the vinegary liquid, to search out a real sour specimen. This beauty, its bottom half wrapped in a piece of a waxed paper, set you back a cool five cents and boy, you made it last, one crunchy bite at a time, all the way home. All food served in our local eateries were 100% true to their roots. The same held true in our homes. No Jewish wife and mother would ever contemplate producing, for instance, her own version of Italian lasagne. It was unthinkable. Nor would Johnny’s Mom dream of concocting her own kind of borscht, even though I am certain she could have whipped up an award-winning version. It just never entered anyone’s mind to copy another’s cuisine or even bend it ever so slightly to one’s own brand of cooking. This was life before fusion. Well, I finally grew up, went to university and left Brooklyn behind, but I took my palate with me. Not surprisingly, I went on to write magazine and newspaper columns and a number of books about the glories of food and wine and as a restaurant critic, my readers religiously followed my reviews as though it were the gospel. After all, I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. It was rewarding, but inevitable. Not only did I learn to eat from the best of them, it was my destiny to become a food writer. Sandi Butchkiss was born and bred in New York City. She has made Hong Kong her home for the past 25 years.
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Poetry
by Rachel DeWoskin
The Blind Massage Parlor on Maizidianr Street The Blind Massage Parlor on Maizidianr Street Doctors Han and Wang run the love heart massage in one of Beijing’s two and a half billion broken alleys. “You’ll recognize it by the red awning,” Dr. Han says on the phone. And when I do, I wonder who told him. Later, on one immaculate bed in a row of seven, I feel Dr. Han’s fist wedge between two innocent bones in my shoulder. He accompanies the soundtrack of my gasping with a simple statement: “We hated Titanic.” I shift my weight on the straight, white table. And arch my eyebrows, a gesture Dr. Han overhears. He rests his right hand for one thoughtful moment on my spine, and explains. “The story was stupid with its music. Your American Hollywood knows what about love? Nothing in that movie fit.” I make shy eye contact with the client in a bed across the row. We are the only two here today. I think she loves Titanic from the delicate way she lifts her neck to look at me, confused. I smile and replace my face into the massage table’s dark head hole. Maybe Dr. Wang and Dr. Han also smile - at each other over us, because Dr. Han says “we’ve been married for eight-teen years. We feel what other people just see.” Only after Dr. Wang, his wife of eight-teen years, giggles like a movie star in love, does he turn his attention and hands back to me. “These days we have a lot of foreign clients!” he remarks, “How do you say in English: Does this hurt?”
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Poetry
by Rachel DeWoskin
Foreigners
In our poetry section we look at the work of poets with both Asian and Jewish connections. While some of the poems we include will tie together both Asian and Jewish themes, or will be inspired by only one of these themes, we want our poetry section to be broader than that. As our poets show, Jewish writing does not only focus on Jewish topics but is often subtly colored by the warmth and humanism that imbues Judaism as a whole.
There’s a language for other languages. Burning my bedside table is a red dictionary. Nightlight, guided, partial escape from my fear of this illiteracy I live in a dark constant: wonder.
This will be a regular section in the magazine and we are looking to expand our pool of poets. Please send your poetry in for consideration to submissions@asianjewishlife.org.
Is everything simple or is emptiness another misunderstanding? Beside me, tea has steeped all day uncovered. I sip slow, still it soaks my mouth with cold, leaves the faint taste of letters I can’t read.
Beijing Awake Dark, our constant wonder, understands this city’s list of questions. It demands the morning be brought on again. The town’s awake, its pavement smell of sun alive, the rounds of vendors under windows call up all their offerings fried dough, soy milk, the vowels move over awnings into spaces that we make for days. How many noons will pass while we play life? Until the ruins of buildings, bridges, neon lights strung highway-side short out, we rise. Today stall covers roll up, wide, a spray of light, fruit, spice, hot words we use for trade. The pork bikes make a metal sound, meat splayed across their fender racks, they wheel to luncheonettes for garlic, sweet and sour sauce, cilantro. We shop markets for their patterns: feathers flutter from the block, stretched necks suggest both flight and stock.
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Rachel DeWoskin is the author of the forthcoming novel Big Girl Small (Farrar Straus Giroux, 2011), the critically acclaimed novel Repeat After Me and a memoir, Foreign Babes in Beijing, which has been published in six countries and is being developed as a feature film. Rachel has published poems in a number of magazines. Her awards include an American Academy of Poets Award and a Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference Fellowship. She is an artist in residence at Teachers & Writers and teaches creative writing at NYU.
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The Death Penalty: What Asia can learn from Judaism
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Viewpoint by Michael H. Fox
A Tsunami of Conscience Since the 1970’s, a tsunami of conscience has been sweeping the globe. It is ideological in nature, and unlike those emanating from the ocean, its purpose is to save lives. Capital punishment, once considered a fair and just retribution for serious crimes, is gradually being expunged in civil societies throughout the world. This wave, which has subsumed Europe, is hitting the shores of Asia. Executions in Taiwan have greatly decreased, and Korea is edging toward abolishment. Singapore, once the world’s highest per capita executor, has shifted gears. Turkey has spearheaded the Islamic world’s movement against execution. The industrialized nations of the world have reached a commonality that the death penalty is arbitrary, imperfect, ugly and costly.
A Cross-Cultural Comparison Why do we execute? Through many years of cross cultural research on the death penalty, I have observed various motives across various regions. East Asian societies, woven of Confucianist fabric, strongly adhere to free choice and individual responsibility. Life is not a matter of fate, and those who commit serious crimes damage the harmony of the tribe. Morality dictates that they should be punished severely.
The strong attachment to free will is not universal. My Irish and Filipino friends believe in spending and living for today. Life exists in the moment-- you never know what tomorrow may bring. What a contrast to the Confucian and Jewish traditions of saving carefully to shelter against tomorrow’s storm! Why is the death penalty being eradicated throughout Europe? The European-Christian Tradition recognizes that all people are not born on a level playing field, wealth and fate are never distributed evenly. Multiply this ideology with Europe’s bloody history of war, and the product is a strong revulsion with the machinery of death.
from the sale of organs harvested from the executed which are sold for high prices on the world market. Japan is also an anomaly. After a period of no executions in the early 90’s, it resumed capital punishment at a small but steady pace. Suddenly, executions catapulted dramatically. From December 2006 until January 2008, in the short span of 25 months, it became the industrialized world’s premier executor with 32 hangings, eliminating 24% of its death row. The tide slowed only after one of the leading daily newspapers criticized the Minister of Justice as the “grim reaper.”
Execution: A Political Statement? China and Japan: Two Anomalies? Though the tsunami of abolitionism has influenced countries as large as India, and as small as Singapore, it seems to have little affect upon China. China is the world’s premier executor. The exact number of executions each year has always been kept secret. What is not a secret: the economic benefits derived from capital punishment. Even small locales in China derive huge revenues
Whether pro or con, criminologists all agree that death penalty is a political punishment-both at the local and international level. One international imbroglio flared in Asia. In 1999, the EU pleaded to stop the execution of Philippine national Leo Echagaray. The German Ambassador, Franz Gottleman, urged an editor of an influential newspaper to take a vocal stance against the execution. The following morning’s
The similarities between Confucianism and Judaism are quite striking. Judaism’s fundamental belief is that the individual is endowed with free will. Man is endowed with both good and bad tendencies, and it our duty to behave correctly. But such choices can be difficult, even perplexing. Therefore, we are required to study halacha (Jewish law) in order to act justly.
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Viewpoint by Michael H. Fox
editorial: “Get Out Gottleman! We don’t want throwbacks to the master race!” Japan’s fantastic escalation of executions was politically motivated. In 2006, a high power delegation from the EU toured Japan promoting abolition. Delegates from various countries exchanged opinions with Japanese academics, jurists, and reporters. Abolition is a prerequisite for admission to the EU which sincerely believes that what works well for Europe will certainly improve societies elsewhere. Not so the Japanese Ministry of Justice. The ministry’s main responsibility is to make sure Japan stays Japanese. It polices immigration by erecting barriers to refugees, oversees the criminal courts and prisons affairs, and of course, decides whom gets hung on the gallows. In response to the visit of the EU and their message of abolition, it sent an unequivocal and brazen Xmas greeting. Four prisoners were hung on the morning of December 25, 2006.
Judaism: Life is Sacred. Does Judaism condone the death penalty and retribution against criminals? On the surface, the Torah appears to favor the death penalty. But the Rabbinic masters have taught otherwise. According to the Talmud, “A court that sentences one person to death every 7 years is a bloody court.” Another commentary ups the ante by a factor of ten: “A court that sentenced one convict to death every 70 years was a bloody court. (Makkot 1:10)” Israel stands out as a salient example of restorative justice. Commit a single murder in some parts of the USA, and you may very well be sentenced to death or life without parole. In the European Union, life without parole is considered so cruel and severe that is is forbidden
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statement. Of the four Xmas day executions, one offered an unforgettable memorial. Yoshio Fujinami, committed some heinous murders while under the influence of drugs and alcohol in the late 1970’s. After 27 years in jail, the 75 year old, whose legs had atrophied after being confined to a pint size cage, had to be wheeled to the gallows .
The Torah’s major concern is with protecting the sanctity of human life. Interestingly enough, the Israeli courts have embraced this principle. In its 62 year history, only one defendant has been executed: former Nazi concentration camp director Adolf Eichman. with the exception of the criminally insane. Death by execution and death by incarceration are not differentiated. Israel recognizes that even the cruelest murderers can be rehabilitated. Witness the release of Japanese Red Army member Kozo Okamoto in 1985. Twelve years earlier, on May 30, 1972, Okamoto and two other terrorists opened fire at Lod Airport killing 26 people. Of the three terrorists, only Okamoto survived. At the time of the incident in 1972, most countries would have tried and executed him with alacrity. Sentenced to life imprisonment, Okamoto was released with others in a prisoner swap in 1985. The Israeli’s were not pressured into the release. They could have facilitated the swap and kept Okamoto. Why was he released? The military authorities no longer considered the one time terrorist a threat. Let the USA take note!
In his final colloquoy, Fujinami mentioned another executee, Shuji Kimura, who was executed in December 1995. Kimura hoped to be the last execution in Japanese history. Fujinami proffered the same: “Shuji Kimura hoped to be the last prisoner executed, and with my turn coming, and I hope that I am the last. Today, I hope that I am the only execution. I pray that my life will attach to a peaceful 21st century, constructed in a culture of goodness. Shalom.” Kozo Okamoto, a terrorist who succeeded in murder was unconditionally freed by Israel and is alive and well in Lebanon. Whether he is committed to peace or terror is anybody’s guess. Yoshio Fujinami’s final moments, and perhaps his evening years were committed to peace. Yet he was executed. Let us hope that Fujinami’s final word-Shalom- fills the world, the heavens above, and the criminal courts below.
Michael of
the
H.
Fox
Japan
is
director
Innocence
and
Death Penalty Research Center (www.jiadep.org). He is associate professor at Hyogo University, and affiliated with the Jewish
A Righteous Last Word Immediately before execution, the accused in Japan are allowed a final
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Community of Kansai, located in Kobe, Japan.
Writer’sDesk by Tracy Slater
Learning to Speak A cross-cultural love story
T
hree weeks after we first meet, my husband tells me he loves me. At least I think.
We’re hidden away, deep in the night, in my faculty dorm room in a corporate training center in Kobe, Japan, where I’m a professor and he’s one of twenty East Asian Executive MBA students. I’m supposed to be teaching them business English. I have never taught ESL before and had been hired a few weeks earlier, under the distorted belief that, because I teach writing to American students, I can teach Asian executives to talk like native English speakers. By now, I’ve realized that the university has made an awful mistake and that I’m terrible at the job, not knowing anything about the field of ESL, how our brains acquire language, how to help foreign speakers exercise the muscles in their mouths to shape English sounds. So when Toru, balanced above me on lithe arms, his spiky black hair jutting out in tufts, says quietly, “I love you,” I don’t nod with brisk encouragement or prod him patiently to elongate his syllables more distinctly. Instead, I say “You what?” Inside me, I think what he’s saying, what he may be saying, could be one of the
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best things I’ve ever heard, because although the job is turning out to be an unmitigated disaster, this student—with his sharp-cheeked beauty and quiet smile—has already begun to make my heart churn. At first, I noticed Toru mostly because he was one of the few students my age, the rest being significantly older business men who spent years climbing the corporate ladder in traditional Japanese and Korean companies, where it seems their experience working alongside women had amounted to being served tea and expecting female colleagues to defer to them.
who bows when I shake hands, who eats miso soup for breakfast when I eat cornflakes. I don’t want to think he’s told me he loves me when in fact he’s said, “I live far from you.”
But Toru seemed different right from the start, listening respectfully when I try to explain new vocabulary, thanking me earnestly for my help, even though I know the whole class knows I’m not experienced enough to be teaching them effectively. Now, what had started with shy glances in the classroom has progressed past afternoon talks in broken English and then into secret, fleeting, drunk kisses late at night—after a program dinner with much sake and bad karaoke—and then finally two weeks of nights of sneaking into my faculty dorm room when we hope no one is awake to see.
Months later, back in my hometown of Boston, where Toru has come to finish his MBA, with my Japanese still nonexistent and Toru’s English still reflective of my dismal ESL-teaching abilities, we announce to my family that we’ve decided to build a life together.
But still, I’ve only known Toru for three weeks, this man who has spent his life a hemisphere away from my home,
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Yet when he repeats it again, and then a third time, and I answer, “You do?” he says unmistakably, “Yes, I’m in love with you.” And somehow, right then, I know I’ve found a lifetime perk to the worst teaching job I’ve ever had. Even though I don’t speak a word of Toru’s native Japanese. And he’s barely conversational in English.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, my family responds to this idea, and our lack of shared dialect, with alarm. “You have a PhD in English, for goodness sake” my mother says, dismayed. “Don’t you think you’ll be happier with someone who’s at least fluent in your language?” Eventually, they accept the marriage, muttering along to the Hebrew transliteration as the Rabbi blesses us, Toru’s family bowing silently under the
Writer’sDesk by Tracy Slater
huppa. But they express honest hope— which comes out sounding more like unmistakable concern—that we will at least study the other’s lexicon more fully. Yet I’ve refused. Well before Toru and I ever married, I knew a fluent husband would never do. The first time he returned to his hometown of Osaka with me still in Boston, he called me when he landed at Kansai airport. Not reaching me, he left a message. “Hello, this is speaking Toru!” he called, tired and happy, into the phone. When I heard the voice-mail, I giggled with delight, thought of our engagement, and alongside my nervousness about committing to be with one man for the rest of my life, felt buoyed by the prospect of endlessly pleasing malapropisms. Early on, in the daze of new love, I quickly realized that his broken English made me giddier than any native speaker’s endearments could. When I recited to him the opening lines Nabokov’s Lolita, telling him he was the “Light of my life, fire of my loins,” my arm flung out dramatically, he looked quizzically at me and just smiled. But minutes later, his smile broadened and he quoted proudly back to me, “Love of my life, tenderloin of my heart” ― a proclamation that struck me as more visceral, touching,
and eloquently twisted than any other in the entire Western canon. Now, when I have a new article accepted for publication, and I tell him about it, I can’t imagine getting any better praise than the semantically-skewed kind he gives me. He’ll read the article, slowly at first and then speeding up in the knowledge that he won’t understanding it anyway, and then he’ll look at me gravely and say “Yes, I feel proud you.” When I get anxious about one family spat or another, he doesn’t jump in to analyze the situation with me, to parse who is in denial or who confrontational. “Take care,” he tells me. “I worry you. I worry you have injury inside,” he says, and it’s like balm. These are the tales I usually tell when people ask if it’s hard to be married to a man whose native language I don’t share. I explain that from the moment Toru announced his love for me, five years ago, with an accent I could barely follow but an earnestness I couldn’t resist, I’ve delighted, rather than despaired, when words have failed us. But, if truth be told, these delightful malapropisms, the ones I point towards to explain how our lexicographically mismatched love works, are only half the story.
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The rest—the heart of it, really—took root in the first few days of our new, linguistically challenged passion. Back in the Japanese corporate training center when we first met, we communicated in broken language, hand signals, and shy glances, fusing together in the silence between our words. One night, he notices the faint scars on the back of my forearm, made during a particularly hard period of adolescence when I wanted not so much to destroy myself as make an intangible grief into a mark that might somehow, in being rendered definable and visible, begin to dislodge and recede. I don’t know how to explain that to him, or my shame at such a banal act of useless drama, but I admit I made them once, all by myself, and he just reaches out and traces them gently. I also don’t know how to articulate the lingering sorrow of my parents’ ruined marriage, the years of stony silences punctured by occasional bursts of hot fury, how we woke one day to kicked-in kitchen cabinets and shards of a broken Bacarrat glass—or my embarrassment that such long-ago, middle-class conflict could have had a lasting impression on me, a girl brought up with weekly Shabbos prayers acknowledging all those whose misery is really real, those who once burned in ovens or die today
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Writer’sDesk by Tracy Slater
in genocides across the planet. I do describe, in flat, mundane details, how later my parents called us into the library in our large house, where we sat amongst the rich wood walls and old leather volumes, and we listened to them explain that they were separating. “Then we went to the country club,” I tell him, and he nods sadly and doesn’t ask why. Later, I tell him how I called my sister in the mental hospital that afternoon, before driving to club, to tell her of our parents’ separation. I don’t narrate to him how she replied that she knew, she always knew, things were never as perfect as the rest of us told ourselves, as we all thought they must be since we
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lived within the walls of a house whose size and landscaping others envied. I just tell him that I waved goodbye to her a few weeks later, this sister who seemed so lovely and wise and remote, and then she turned away down the hospital hallway into her beige-walled room, and that was the last time I saw her before she went to live with a different family. When I look down, sad and embarrassed and still confused by these stories whose narratives I’ve been revisiting, silently, for years, his hand is already there, holding mine. He nods then, not to tell me that he understands, but that he still knows what I mean. I don’t have words to tell him how comforted that makes me, but even so, he never lets go.
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Tracy Slater has her PhD in English and American Literature from Brandeis University and now teaches writing one semester a year at Boston University. She lives half of every year in Boston and half in Osaka, Japan, where she writes for the Asahi Weekly and Kansai Scene magazine. She has also published pieces in Best Women’s Travel Writing 2008, Boston Magazine, the Boston Globe, Post Road, Chronicle Review, and Japan, Inc. Tracy is the founder of the award-winning literary series Four Stories, which runs events in Boston, Osaka, and Tokyo (www.fourstories.org), and recipient of the 2008 PEN New England Friends of Writers prize.
BookReviews
by Susan Blumberg-Kason
Blissful Beshert: Jews and Chinese food Westernized Chinese food has no place in The Last Chinese Chef (Houghton Mifflin, 2007) by Nicole Mones. This delectable novel chronicles two stories— one of Maggie McElroy, an American food writer, the other of Sam Liang, a Jewish, half-Chinese chef who returns to his father’s birth city of Beijing to learn the ancient art of Chinese cookery.
Jews and Chinese food go back a long way, but it’s more than just a matter of good taste. In The Fortune Cookie Chronicles: Adventures in the World of Chinese Food (Twelve, 2008), Jennifer 8. Lee investigates the cult of Americanized Chinese food. She dedicates a chapter to Jews and Chinese food, titled “Why Chow Mein is the Chosen Food of the Chosen People”, but also writes about this relationship in other chapters. Of course Jews are famous for eating Chinese food on Christmas, but Lee reveals another layer of this bond. As Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe settled into their new homes in the US, they indulged in Chinese food for a few reasons. One, it was more exotic than the European fare they were used to, so by eating Chinese food, Eastern European Jews felt cosmopolitan and worldly. Jews also flocked to Chinese restaurants, because the Chinese proprietors didn’t view them as Jews, but as Americans. It was one place where Jews felt assimilated and treated the same as other European Americans. And unlike Mexican and Italian cuisine, also popular ethnic fare in the US, Chinese food doesn’t use much dairy. It worked with kosher diets. But more than just enjoying Chinese food as connoisseurs, Lee relates how Jews have played an important role in the phenomenon of Chinese take-out. A Jewish family named Epstein founded and owns Kari-Out, a company that supplies the small soy sauce packets included in Chinese take-out. KariOut also packages and supplies fortune cookies, disposable wooden chopsticks, and the thin white cardboard containers synonymous with take-out Chinese food in the US. Jews of all strata enjoy Chinese food. Lee recounts the Great Kosher Duck Sandal of 1989 that brought down a beloved kosher Chinese restaurant outside Washington, DC named Moshe Dragon. The orthodox community loved their Chinese food so much they were willing to overlook the laws of kashrut all in the name of tasty kosher Peking duck. Lee also travels to Kaifeng to interview an ancestor of the lost Jews of China, a community that built the first synagogue there in the 12th century. Other chapters of The Fortune Cookie Chronicles recount the history of Chinese take-out restaurants in the US, their delivery menus, and of course, their fortune cookies.
ASIAN JEWISH LIFE
Maggie travels to Beijing in search of missing pieces from her late husband’s secret life. Her food magazine editor assigns her a story in Beijing—to interview Sam Liang, a rising star in Beijing’s culinary world, descended from China’s last imperial chef—to keep her mind away from the tragedy of losing her husband in a car accident and learning he led a secret life on his business trips to China. Brought together by food, Maggie and Sam develop a close friendship and support each other through rough patches each encounters during Maggie’s visit to Beijing. As a prelude to the 2008 Beijing Olympics, the city launches a contest to choose the best regional chefs in China. Sam enters as one of ten contestants and aims to recreate an imperial banquet. Trained by his three ‘uncles’, close friends of his father’s, Sam learns the various components of Chinese cuisine: taste, texture, and appearance. The one person missing from Sam’s side is his father, who escaped China in the early 1950s when Mao cracked down on imperial cuisine. Sam’s Judaism is only touched upon superficially. He learned to cook back in the US from his Jewish grandmother, but when he moves to China, he delves into his father’s culture, learning the language, the customs, the cuisine. His Jewish roots seldom appear in his new life in China. Mones, the author of Lost in Translation (no relation to the popular Hollywood movie, but much more substantive than the film), first traveled to China in 1977 as a young textile entrepreneur. In the late 1990s, she began writing about Chinese food for Gourmet magazine, so except for the fictional plot of The Last Chinese Chef, the book could very well serve as a food memoir of her culinary experiences in China. The cone shaped corn cakes, succulent tofu infused with a crab reduction, fish head soup, and countless other dishes explode onto the pages and into the readers’ appetites.
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Places I Love Jerusalem, Israel
Places I Love is a unique travel-geared feature that asks artists, musicians, writers and other prominent personalities to share their favorite travel destinations and attractions with readers. Given the unique focus of Asian Jewish Life, both an Asia-based destination and either a city or particular attraction in Israel, are highlighted. It is a chance to see the world in an entirely different way. This will be a regular feature for Asian Jewish Life. If there is someone you would like to hear from, please let us know.
The Holy City is first on my list in Israel. I was born there and spent the first 22 years of my life there. I know almost every street and corner and just love the atmosphere. I’ve been living in Hong Kong since 1995 and still can’t wait to go each summer to see my parents and let my kids play with their grandparents. The sun is great and the air is so fresh. I love taking a stroll on the promenade that overlooks the whole city. I also love walking through the old city streets, visiting the Western Wall, and spending an evening at the center of the city on Ben Yehuda Street, Jaffa Street or in the German Colony.
Seoul, Korea
Seoul is my favorite destination in Asia. I visit there at least once a year and play some concerts. I love the traditional Korean food, especially the barbeque. I love the variety of vegetables and the garlic. The museums are also great, clear with lots of interesting information. One should try to see the palaces such as Dok-su and Kyoung-Bok and go shopping in Dongdaemun and Myung-Dong. It is such a vibrant city with so many diverse attractions. Each visit is a new experience.
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ASIAN JEWISH LIFE
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A native of Israel, Meidad Yehudayan performs around the world, as a soloist, recitalist and chamber musician. He recently performed viola concertos including Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola in New York, Hong Kong and Israel. Some of his projects also included solo and chamber music concerts with members of the Berlin Philharmonic and the Hamburg symphony, as well as CD recordings. His first CD, “Popsinera”, was awarded “The 10 Hottest CD of the year 2008” and “The Best Light Music Album of the year 2008” by the Radio Guangdong “Voice of the City.” Mr. Yehudayan was a member of the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra and the Hong Kong String Quartet from 1995-2001. He has performed many recitals in Israel, America and Europe, and recorded for Israeli National Radio & RTHK (Radio 4) in Hong Kong. Mr. Yehudayan is currently the violist of the Pure Strings Ensemble and Orchestra and has been the Strings Director at Hong Kong International School since 2001.
ExpatDiary by Craig Gerard
Raising a Jewish Child in Cambodia “I want to do Shaw-bat! I want to do Shaw-bat!” yells Shai, my two-and-ahalf year old son. It’s Friday night, we’re just returning from work, and it’s already past his 8:30pm bedtime. His mom and I are exhausted from a long week at work, and all we really want to do is put him down, curl up on the couch and pop in a DVD. But tradition is tradition, so we carefully get out my great grandparent’s Shabbat candlestick holders, wrap some bread in the challah cover and pop open a bottle of wine.
the Maccabee’s story and singing Channukah songs with a class full of 3 year-olds in mid-December.
This scene could take place anywhere in the world, but in Cambodia, we try extra hard to bring Judaism into our home at least once a week. By bringing little pieces of Judaism into our home, our son experiences part of the childhood my wife and I grew up with in the United States. These are the challenges that all expat families face; namely instilling your own culture in your children while they witness a very different culture each day. For Jews living in a predominately Buddhist country, our own culture can be a mystery to our children.
I often wonder if Shai perceives the differences between our family and that of our neighbors. Certainly he understands there is a language barrier, which he is breaking down faster than we are. And he understands that we look different. But being different is all that he knows in his short life. To him, being different is completely normal, but I struggle with how to explain this. Things that are normal for Cambodians like visiting the pagoda, saffron-robed monks, the Buddha statues and spirit houses, those don’t belong to us. But how can he understand these are not his, when really it is all he has ever known?
In Phnom Penh, a small and informal Jewish community exists. Gathering for the holidays is one way our children learn about Judaism. But with no synagogue, no Sunday school, and no formal Jewish education system, the burden falls squarely on the shoulders of the parents to pass along our religious torch to our offspring. Lighting the Shabbat candles on Friday night is a simple way our family stays rooted in our Judaism. Of course life tends to get in the way. Work functions, socializing, or just plain forgetfulness, and even the best-intentioned Jew will have much to repent for come Yom Kippur. By giving ourselves little reminders throughout the week, we are much more likely to celebrate Shabbat,
We talk to Shai about what a magic of Israel. We try to give him treats that correspond with the holiday, like hamintashin on Purim. We’ll even give him a snip of wine on Shabbat, to which he exclaims, “I like wine!” Every holiday, every lifecycle event and every time we play his Oy Baby! CD we have a chance to share our culture with him.
especially if the reminder is coming from our two-year old son. We also sing Hashkiveinu to Shai as a bedtime song every night, except on Saturday nights, when we sing the Havdallah blessings. He, of course, has no idea what the words mean, but one day, in the distant future at summer camp, he will realize, “Hey, I know these songs.” Just as our parents had to march into the superintendent’s office in elementary school in the 1980s to demand that Rosh Hashanah not coincide with the first day of the school year, so too have we found ourselves doing a bit of advocacy in Shai’s preschool. The curriculum for December was to learn about Christmas, despite the fact that half the students are Buddhist. I’m fine with the children learning about different religions, and even fine with Shai’s rendition of Jingle Bells, but I also want Judaism to get its fair shake at Gecko & Garden Preschool. Which is how I found myself recounting
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I am thankful we can give Shai the experience of living overseas, especially while he is still young. He has plenty of time to explore religion and find his spiritual place in the word. And I’m very thankful that we aren’t even close to preparing for his Bar Mitzvah. Yet I wonder what he is missing by not having a Jewish daycare option or a synagogue nearby to incorporate into our weekly traditions. Is he slowly assimilating just to fulfill our selfish wanderlust? Or can we raise the Jewish child we always hoped for, despite our location. I suppose with all questions relating to raising a child, only time will tell. For now, we’ll just take it one Shaw-bat at a time.
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Film in Focus
Director:
Erez Laufer
Peroid:
Israel / 2009
Film Duration:
70 minutes
Lanuage:
Hebrew, English
Subtitles:
Hebrew, English
From Terror to Safe Haven and Back Rafting to Bombay
“Rafting to Bombay” is the remarkable true story of a boy and his mother as they escape from the Nazis in Poland and arrive in India by raft. The fate of this young boy and his mother, though little known, is shared by an estimated 1,000 other Jewish Holocaust refugees who also found a safe haven in India. The numbers are so small that most Indians are little aware of their own country’s role in unwittingly saving the lives of these Jews. There are other true accounts of escapes via Shanghai to India on Sugihara issued visas. Whatever the route and no matter how small the number, British India is connected to these survivors’ tales of freedom. The existing communities of Jews in India, dating back to the 18th century, were also said to have played a role in hosting their band of brethren. In an effort to preserve this obscure piece of history, the history of the Holocaust refugees in India, filmmaker Erez Laufer took on this project. Laufer, the editor of
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2 Oscar nominees for Best DocumentaryMy Country My Country (2006) and The War Room (1993), and the winner of the 2002 Israeli Academy Award for his film Mike Brant - Laisse-moi t’aimer, was however no stranger to this story. The film was the story of his father, Nahum and his grandmother’s own narrow escape from the Nazis. In an effort to preserve his grandmother’s memories, Laufer began filming nearly twenty years ago in a series of taped interviews of her before she passed away. The story was meant to highlight the contrast between his father’s boyish fascination and romanticism with India against with his grandmother’s keen awareness of the fate they escaped from in Europe. Laufer, a renowned and trained filmmaker, was little aware that his plot was soon to be derailed and his set hijacked.
thus inadvertently connecting the past and present in a poignant way he never intended. The story of his father and grandmother is now juxtaposed against the backdrop of the contemporary terror attack putting the filmmaker’s own narrative into the film alongside those of his father and grandfather. While it can’t be suggested that the two events could ever be compared, they serve as an unbelievable contrast. While Jews, like Laufer’s family, saw Bombay as one of the few safe havens in the 30s and the 40s, the 2008 attack would see them targeted. His family’s story of survival would be told as those in the Chabad House perished.
The film was produced with the participation of Yad Vashem and with
While in Mumbai in 2008 to film, Laufer and crew found themselves caught in the midst of the attack on Mumbai
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support
from
the
Gesher
Multicultural Film Fund and the Makor Foundation.
RAFAEL AHARONI PRESIDENT, ZAKA HONG KONG, MACAO & CHINA ON BEHALF OF THE 1500 ZAKA VOLUNTEERS IN ISRAEL, WE EXTEND OUR DEEPEST APPRECIATION FOR YOUR GENEROSITY IN HOSTING THE RECENT LAUNCH OF ZAKA HONG KONG, MACAO & CHINA YOUR TIRELESS EFFORTS AND EXEMPLARY LEADERSHIP HAVE HELPED LAY THE SUCCESSFUL FOUNDATIONS FOR ZAKA IN EAST ASIA
“He who saves a life saves the whole world”
Yehuda Meshi-Zahav
ZAKA Chairman and Founder
David Rose
Director, ZAKA International Development
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SPRING 2010
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ASIAN JEWISH LIFE A JOURNAL OF SPIRIT, SOCIETY AND CULTURE WINTER 2009-10
Ambassador of Vietnamese Lacquer Art Artist Profile of Nava Levy
Why Japan Will Never Forget Kneading Light A Lacquer Painting by Nava Levy
A Retrospective on the Attack on Mumbai
supports other Jewish non-profit organizations around the region. The ads on this page are FREE. To find out how you can receive a free ad for your organization contact us at ads@asianjewishlife.org
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