Sigal shapira / Translated to english: Shirley Ganor / Bitter Honey /// סיפור מאת סיגל שפירא / דבש מר / תרגמה לאנגלית: שירלי גנור

Sigal shapira

 Translated to english: Shirley Ganor

Bitter Honey

They called him Abu-Jessem.  His faded army coat hid his worn out clothes and gave his powerful and threatening figure a combat look.  He arrived at the Jewish quarter from one of the poor villages on the outskirts of the city of Baghdad.  When he heard that the Jews had money, he decided to turn their pockets inside out.  After a short tour of the quarter, he took up his position at the corner of the alley leading to the Synagogue, where every Jew passes at least once a day.

“Jew!” – he pounced on the passersby in an aggressive tone, filled with hate.  “A hand-out!  Give me a hand-out for the holiday!”

-                  But today is not our holiday, replied the man in a subdued – apologetic tone. Abu-Jessem would stick out his chest, open his mouth and his voice would thunder against the walls of the narrow alley, rolling until the entrance to the Synagogue where it would freeze the prayer in the heart.  “I swear by the great Lord that if you don’t give me a hand-out immediately, I will make you a holiday that you will not forget all year!” and while still shouting, the palm of his large hand would hand on the man’s head.  While trying to keep his balance, the Jew would empty his pockets into the hands of Abu-Jessem, and the calloused grooved filthy hand which knows no bounds would immediately disappear between the tears in his clothes and be drawn again to search for the next victim.  In the market he acted as if it was his house.  He would walk among the stalls laden with the best produce.  He would reach out and take whatever he pleased.  No one would say a word to stop him, for fear that they would be beaten.

The harassing of the residents of the quarter got worse and worse until it became unbearable, and then a decision was made in the neighborhood to put a stop to it.  To stop it and immediately – but how?!  The residents of the quarter raised their eyes to heaven, the Rabbi said a special prayer.  In a discussion held in the Synagogue it was decided that it would be preferable to anchor this in the Law and to appoint Abu-Jessem “guard” of the quarter, that is, a paid guard with the agreement of the authorities.  So Abu-Jessem, because of his power, began to receive a fixed income in exchange for guarding the quarter against himself.  On that day, peace came to the neighborhood.  His monthly wages, his permanent lodging on a wooden street bench where he lay alongside an unloaded rifle, under the windows of those who hated him, had a visible effect.  He took pride in the khaki uniform of His Majesty’s army, as Iraq benefited from the support of Great Britain and served as a receptacle for the British military surplus.  His meals were provided him by the women of the neighborhood who didn’t spare their curses, which they mumbled under their breath into the neckline of their dresses: “Let this food bring poison to your intestines” their hands holding the edges of their neckline and shaking it sharply so that the curse would not stick to them, heaven forbid.

Every holiday, without asking, hand-outs flowed to his pockets.  He learned to speak quietly, to say a few polite words in Jewish-Arabic, and even on holidays to greet those going to the Synagogue “May you live long”.  On weekdays he received drinking money from the passersby, but on the Sabbath he didn’t expect money from the Jews.  He learned that their pockets were empty on this day.

The quarter entered a welcomed routine, and the days passed comfortably as the waters of the Hidekel River, but the days did not pass so for Regina.  The lodging of Abu-Jessem was opposite her house, and from her window she would see the eyes of Abu-Jessem light up after Doris, her only daughter, and she feared that harm might befall her daughter from the hands of Abu-Jessem.  She kept her fears to herself, only her eyes embraced Doris and guarded her steps, until some international events darkened the skies of the quarter.  The long arms of World War II reached the doorstep of the peaceful homes.  Arab nationalism turned hatred for the Jews into a flag.  The youngsters of Baghdad rallied around this flag under the name “Alfatwah”.   Incitement and harassment against the Jews began to interfere with everyday life.  The Jews locked themselves in their homes from the early evening hours.

The women, in fear, wouldn’t leave their homes unless they were wearing an “abaiya” from head to toe.  The abaiya robe gave them safety and hid them from the eyes of pests.  Ordinarily, when the mothers met between the stalls in the market, they stood to exchange greetings, to chat in friendship, to talk about the life of the community out of curiosity and concern.  The children liked the robes their mothers wore and went from robe to robe in a sort of game to catch, tickle and cause laughter.  They liked to hide between the silk folds that caress and wave gently in the wind, to peek out from among the folds at the people passing by and to play tricks.

The mothers, engrossed in conversation, would not bother to stop their conversations to scold the children for their naughtiness, but ignored their games, continued to talk peacefully about daily life and exchanged bits of information: who is getting married, who managed to fight with her mother-in-law, or her husband, who needs help and who is giving his money to help marry off an orphan girl.  As the political situation became agitated, these conversations took on a sorrowful seriousness.  Eyes looked towards heaven more often.  Lips, distorted in weeping, murmured prayers and asked for forgiveness.  The minor tone of the conversations seeped apparently into the consciousness of the children and the playful nature of their activities lessened.  Sometimes the children preferred to stick next to their mothers and listen quietly to the whispers as they whispered in each other’s ears.

The holiday of Shavuoth was approaching.  Baghdad was enwrapped in clear skies, the air, shaken clean from the yellow dust of the desert, was clear and light, but the hearts of the residents of the quarter were heavy.  Fear conquered their hearts.  They could not repress the worry that clung to them.  The danger was tangible: youths paraded in the streets shouting slogans against foreigners.  The exiled, ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­that hung violins on the banks of the rivers of Babylon lived in Iraq for generations and made their roots there, roots of culture, wisdom and soul, suddenly became aliens crying out for mercy.   At the command of the Rabbi, who spoke on the Sabbath, they placed their fate in the hands of heaven and went to prepare for the holiday.  There was great commotion in the markets.  Merchants offered their wares in trills and verses.  The summer fruits burst forth in their colorfulness towards people walking by, calling out to the wicker baskets in their hands.  The women returned from the markets with rosy cheeks like the fruits in their baskets and immediately began to prepare the kahi dough, rich in butter.  On the holiday morning, the housewives got up early to welcome the family with the smells of the baking kahi, the folds of dough swimming in bubbling yellow butter and smiling from the pan, and the hot delicious smelling kahi would be placed on the dishes before the family sitting around the table this morning.   They would immediately pour a sauce on the kahi, sweet and thick like honey and spiced with hell and the smell would fill the house and heart.

The holiday of Shavouth was also the holiday of Abu-Jessem.  Before the holiday he received an even larger tip than the year before.   The residents of the quarter knew that they were dependent on his goodwill and hoped that their generosity would make him forget his hatred, even if just for these days, and perhaps help them through troubled times, if not for their sake, then for the sake of future tips.  However just as his pocket swelled, so did his chest, and as the ill winds blew outside, so his mouth spewed more curses.  He walked in the neighborhood with his loaded rifle on his shoulder so that all would be in awe, and he loaded his rifle defiantly just next to the Synagogue when the men were gathering for prayer.  The women watched him through slits in the shutters and his behavior awakened the need for them to raise their arms towards heaven and beg for mercy, and to pour their curses on him under their breath.

Regina paced back and forth in her house like a trapped animal.  “What should I do?” she wondered, to share her concerns about her daughter with the residents of the quarter?   Of course not!  She recoiled from the very thought.  Evil tongues are everywhere and even here in the Jewish quarter, everyone will hear, will add with his own good imagination and pass it on further.  Abu-Jessem will be forgotten and the name of her daughter will be spoken of, not to her benefit, and yet she must find a husband!  No, best keep silent.  The Rabbi!  Yes, she trusted only the Rabbi.  She waited in the women’s section of the Synagogue until the prayers ended and when she saw that each one left for his own home, she approached the Rabbi and spread before him her worries.  And of course he knew that she was a widow.  Once he even hinted to her that it was not appropriate for women to live alone without a man to protect them and their good name, of course a man who was a relative: brother, son or husband.  “The softer the lamb, the more want its flesh” he said to her.  “And the more the dove is naïve, the talons of the hawk will catch it” he spoke to her.  Again she sat in front of the Rabbi and waited for his words.  The Rabbi heard her distress, nodded his head, murmured into his beard and after a moment he said: “the purity of the virgins of Israel must be preserved, as from their womb will come the redemption, they are the mothers of the coming generation.  Tell me please, I recall, don’t you have a brother outside of Baghdad?”  “Yes, Honored Rabbi, my brother has been living in Batzra for several years”.  “Blessed is he who takes preventative steps!” the Rabbi raised his hand towards the heaven – “Tomorrow at dawn, take your daughter and place her with your brother in Batzra and may God be with you!”

That evening Regina packed a few things for her daughter, placed them in the wicker basket and got into her bed, however, she couldn’t fall asleep.  These were troubled times for the Jewish people and at this time when every mother was clutching her children to her and protecting them, she was depositing her daughter in the hands of another person, even though he was her brother.  What is the meaning of the word “bedalik” (my soul for yours) which she used to say to her daughter as every Jewish mother in Baghdad, if she is far away and has placed her in the hands of another, fortunately her brother.  What sort of mother is she that she cannot protect her daughter in times of trouble?   Bedalik, bedalik, bedalik – she said and collapsed into bed.

At the break of dawn she wrapped her daughter in the abaiya robe and they stole out to catch the first train to Batzra.  They wrapped themselves in the abaiya in the corner of the coach and didn’t exchange a word all the long way, so that their Jewish-Arabic would not give them away and they would be harmed.  Only worry settled between them and ate away every speck of happiness.  The train stopped in the station with a hoot for having conquered the journey, and they hurried to get off to find a wagon and find comfort in the home of her brother.  Her brother opened his home to them.  When Regina saw the affection which her brother heaped on her daughter she felt a wave of self-pity envelope her, and the tears she had held back, now hurried to fall.  She kissed her daughter and kissed her brother and his family and hurried to catch the train back to Baghdad.  “Stay with us” her brother urged.  “I must return, one must not leave a house in these times” she said and smiled at him.

Later on when the entrance to the Land of Israel became possible she would hurry to leave her house with all of its furnishings and leave the key on the doorstep for anyone and start out on her way, from which there was no returning.  However, that time had not come yet, and her roots still drank from the good of the country and from its evils.  She hurried to return to Baghdad to her home and didn’t tell anyone of her going and coming.

On the morning of the holiday, the housewives awoke early, but not to prepare the kahi, not for the sensation of the sweetness of the holiday.  They were thinking about what was happening outside.  They were worried about the safety of their families.  The country, under whose palms they had found refuge for generations, had betrayed them, and they were now under siege:  “The doors were blocks with heavy furniture, the escape routes were the roofs, but the harm would come from there as well.  The rioters could pass from roof to roof and break into the houses.  There were those who fortified themselves in the attic, and from there kept an eye on the entrance way.  The openings of the roofs were blocked with iron poles which could be neutralized in time of need.  Fear paralyzed the residents of the quarter.  The men read psalms and the women stood aside and made vows and appealed to the souls of the righteous.  The emptiness, created with the departure of the king and his assistants, sucked into it all of the wretched and depressed.  Armed with everything they could find and with nationalistic slogans, they marched the streets of Baghdad and shouted in bloodcurdling screams: “This is the day we were waiting for”.  Pregnant women began to give birth from fear, girls hid in dark corners, basements.  The first shot was fired into the window of Regina’s home from the rifle of the guard, Abu-Jessem.  In doing so he implemented the Arabic saying, haramiya, haramiya (preserve it- steal it).  This shot served as the sign for the beginning of the pogrom in the Jewish neighborhood.  The excited mob flooded the streets with their weapons and didn’t waste time on the barricaded doors, but searched for easy prey in order to loot, rape and kill as long as the anarchy lasted.  Regina closeted herself in the attic saying prayer after prayer and her thoughts were with her daughter.  Pangs of conscience overcame her fear.  How did she allow her daughter to go so far as Batzra!  The shots, the shouts and the calls from the street paralyzed her and froze her thoughts until she heard stubborn pounding on the door, which slowly weakened.  When the soul restrains the body, how can one open the door.  Still she went to the window where the shot had been fired from the street and looked to see who was pleading for help.  To her surprise she saw Abu-Jessm standing leaning on her doorstep, pale and plucked, begging.  It’s me, Abu-Jessem, he said in a weak voice, I swear on your Torah, open the door for me as I am wounded and need help, I swear on the Koran!  You will not be harmed, he held his stomach and sighed with pain.

She was about to close the window when she heard her mother’s voice from inside her: “Mitzvah” – she always used to say – “Mitzvah” was her magic word that passed through worlds, that corrected wrongdoings, aligned contradictions and gave validity to things beyond her understanding.  Helping people was a great mitzvah, she ran down to the kitchen, prepared some tea, added lemon and reached out through the latticework of the kitchen window and hurried to close it.  He held the cup in a trembling hand and with his other hand held his stomach and closed his eyes and sipped the tea.  Between sigh and moan he told her through the closed window about his actions:  How he broke into the pharmacy with the mob, and there on one of the shelves there was a small package and in it some cubes wrapped in silver foil.  In his village he didn’t have the opportunity to eat chocolate and here was an opportunity, he thought, a full box of chocolate!  He ate with great appetite, only afterwards discovering that it was a medicinal substance, a laxative that looked like chocolate.  His stomach began to respond with distorting pains.  He couldn’t control nature…

She went to the closet and brought him some of her husband’s clothes so that he could get cleaned up and change.  Still not trusting him, she opened the window a crack and reached the tea and the clothes out to him.

After the days of rage and mourning ended, the days of exile returned to routine and Doris the daughter returned home safety to her mother.  The Rabbi asked Regina to come to see him.  “I heard about the help you extended to Abu-Jessem, despite the fact that he shot into your house.  How do you explain this as a Jewish woman?”

“Honored Rabbi, she replied, compassion does not keep hatred!”

 סיפור זה מופיע במקור שלו בעברית

כתבה אותו: סיגל שפירא

סיפור זה תורגם גם לערבית על-ידי סמיר נקאש
 המקור והתרגום לערבית מופיעים בספר דו-לשוני "הבוסתן"

הספר יצא לאור ב- 2007

בהוצאת המרכז האקדמאי של יוצאי עיראק בישראל