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  • Rebirth, reberth

    Rebirth, reberth
    By Danny Rubinstein

    Ha'aretz
    29 Oct. 2004

    Writing in Arabic, the late Israeli journalist and commentator Victor
    Nachmias tells of his childhood in Egypt, his immigration to Israel,
    and the tension between his native land and the country of his rebirth

    "Alrajul aladi wulida marten" ("The Man Who Was Born Twice: The Story
    of an Egyptian Jew Who Immigrated to Israel") by Victor Nachmias,
    Al-Ma'aref, 192 pages

    Victor Nachmias, a well-known Israeli TV and radio commentator on Arab
    affairs, chose to write his autobiography in Arabic in order to bring
    his personal story to as many Arab readers as possible, in Israel and
    outside it.

    But there was another reason. In writing in Arabic (the language of the
    enemy, as many Israelis will say), he was proving to the world - and to
    himself - that the tension between Egypt, his beloved homeland, and the
    State of Israel, to which he immigrated in 1957, was the pivot of his
    life.

    Arriving in Israel at the age of 23, he felt he had been reborn. There
    was nothing very new in this sentiment. One could call it "old-school
    Zionism" of the type that was abundant in the early waves of
    immigration to this country, a hundred years ago and more. Among
    today's new immigrants there are also quite a few who might describe
    their move to Israel as a "rebirth." Indeed, people who take the
    dramatic step of adopting a new homeland, a new language, and very
    often a new lifestyle and profession, have a tendency to change their
    names, too - a kind of public declaration of their new identity. They
    are not the same people they were before. They have been born twice, to
    quote the title of Nachmias' book. But Victor Nachmias had another
    reason for saying that he was reborn in the State of Israel: He arrived
    at his new home in the Castel ma'abara (immigrant transit camp) on May
    18, 1957 - which was also his birthday.

    Nachmias is not the only Israeli Jew to write in Arabic. Perhaps one of
    the earliest and most intriguing was Yitzhak Shemi, born in Hebron in
    1888. Shemi worked as a teacher in Palestine, Damascus and Bulgaria,
    and died in 1949. His book, "Revenge of the Fathers," is considered a
    literary masterpiece by Jews and Arabs alike. The Iraqi-born Jewish
    authors recently profiled in this paper by Prof. Sasson Somekh are
    probably more familiar to the general public. Somekh writes, for
    example, about Yitzhak Bar-Moshe, born in Baghdad, who worked as a
    senior employee in Israel Radio's Arabic department and served as a
    press and cultural attache at the Israeli Embassy in Cairo. Upon his
    return, in 1994, he wrote "Cairo in My Heart," about his experiences
    there.

    Since nearly all the Jewish communities in Arab countries have
    disappeared and very few Jews are left who can claim that Arabic is
    their mother tongue, presumably it won't be long before there are no
    more Jews writing or publishing books in Arabic. Nachmias' book is thus
    one of the last links in the chain.

    Nachmias writes about his childhood in Cairo, about the Jews of Egypt,
    about immigrating to Israel, about working for Israel Radio in Arabic
    and Israel TV in Hebrew. He describes the great turning point in his
    life in the wake of Sadat's visit to Jerusalem (1977) - an event that
    made it possible for him to return to Cairo and meet with top-tier
    Egyptian officials. He writes about his coverage of Arab Israelis and
    Palestinians.

    The more personal he gets, the more interesting the book. Many parts of
    it are genuinely moving. "Who are you, Victor Nachmias?" asks the
    Egyptian journalist Anis Manzour, editor of the weekly magazine
    October, after they meet and become close friends.

    "I am a victim of the Israeli-Arab conflict," Nachmias replies. "I was
    forced to leave Egypt before completing my pharmacology degree at Qasr
    al-Eini (Cairo's famous medical school). I left with one 20-kilo
    suitcase of clothes and personal belongings, a total of $20 (the
    maximum allowance) and a certificate stamped with the words `exit, no
    return,' revoking the Egyptian citizenship held by my father."

    Years later, when Nachmias accompanied President Yitzhak Navon to Egypt
    as part of the press corps, he was asked why, upon leaving Egypt, he
    had chosen to go to Israel. The question was accusing in tone, and
    Nachmias' answer was that since Egypt had no right to expel him, they
    also had no right to ask what made him choose Israel.

    `Little Vicky boy'

    Nachmias' account of his childhood is quite sparing, which is a pity.
    The book hardly mentions his father, who died in 1955, or the schools
    he went to. He says little about his early family experiences and about
    the social, cultural and political milieu in which he grew up. On the
    other hand, he writes at length about the contribution of Egyptian
    Jewry to the social, economic, cultural and political life of the
    country.

    The Jewish community in Egypt was indeed unique. It was an amalgam of
    Jews from North Africa, Damascus, Russia, Iraq and Yemen. They
    integrated well into the Levantine urban elite of Cairo and Alexandria,
    which was composed of foreigners - Greeks, Italians and Armenians - in
    addition to the French and British expatriates about whom so much has
    been written.

    A third or more of the Jewish community left Egypt after the Israeli
    War of Independence, and another third after the Sinai Campaign in 1956
    (the "triple" Israeli-Anglo-French attack, as it is known in Egypt).
    The rest packed their bags after the Six-Day War. The Nachmias family
    left - or was ordered to leave - in 1957.

    They lived on the second floor. The landlord wanted to move the ground
    floor tenant, Haj Saber, into their apartment so he could turn the
    bottom floor into a shop. As the Nachmias family deliberated on what to
    take with them, the neighbors came snooping to see what furniture they
    were leaving behind.

    Twenty years later, Victor Nachmias, the Israeli journalist, went back
    to visit his childhood home at 1 Tur-Sina Street. The doorman, Uncle
    Ibrahim, who was still there after all those years, recognized Nachmias
    and greeted him excitedly. "It's my little Vicky boy!" he exclaimed. A
    little cluster of neighbors who remembered his late father, Mr.
    Suleiman Nachmias, his mother, "Umm Vicky," and his brothers and
    sisters, congregated at the entrance. He went upstairs and there, to
    his surprise, found a large porcelain vase that had belonged to his
    family. His mother, afraid that it might break on the way, had decided
    to leave it behind. For Nachmias, it was an epitaph to his mother, who
    had died the year before.

    The Cairo of Nachmias' childhood - a Paris in miniature - was gone, and
    in its place was a third-world metropolis. His reunion with Cairo in
    1977 was like meeting an old flame, once young and beautiful, now a
    wrinkled old woman. Nachmias' writing here takes off, as it does in his
    account of other personal landmarks - his first day in the ma'abara, a
    visit to Jerusalem, his early days with Israel Radio. Nachmias was
    involved in the Arabic news programs, which were a kind of flagship
    project at the time. All over the Arab world, they were listened to and
    believed - the very opposite of the situation today.

    The book in its current format is geared to the Arab reader. Victor
    Nachmias did not live to see its publication in Hebrew. A month ago, he
    suffered a stroke, and passed away this week.
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