Ceci’s Watson Journey

Before I start, I want to thank everyone for checking up on me through my website.  My mom was home recently and told me that EVERYONE is still reading it and thinks it is great and that makes me incredibly happy.  I encourage EVERYONE to comment or post as they please, and not to be embarassed!  I read and appreciate every single comment I get, and it helps me feel connected to home.  So; again, thanks for your support!

Before I embark on the second leg of my Watson journey, I wanted to reflect on the previous research I have done on Tunisia, the things I have learned about the country since then, and what I hope to accomplish during one month there.

The Jewish existence in Tunisia dates back 2,300 years when, according to the Talmud, 30,000 Jews were transferred from the Land of Israel by the Roman Emperor Titus. Their long history in Tunisia has had its ups and downs, and by World War II the Jewish population in Tunisia numbered between 90,000 and 100,000. In November of 1942 Tunisia became the first (and only) Arab country to come under direct Nazi control, during which anti-Semitic practices were instituted; Jews were forced to wear Star of David badges, property was confiscated, a fine was levied on the community, and more than 5,000 Jews were sent to a forced-labor camp. Fortunately, the Germans were forced to leave Tunisia in March 1943, after which the rights of Jews were restored, and the community flourished to reach its peak of 105,000 in 1948.

The Jews in Tunisia assumed that their life would return to normalcy after the German occupation, but those hopes were short-lived as the Tunisian struggle for national independence was achieved in 1956. In 1958, in an attempt to treat all citizens equally, the various Tunisian Jewish organizations were consolidated into the Jewish Religious Council, which was regulated by President Bourghuiba. As part of urban renewal projects, the ancient Jewish quarter of Tunis was demolished, along with an ancient synagogue. Accounts of violence against Jews began to increase, especially after conflicts involving Israel, and as a result, by the end of 1967, only around 20,000 Jews remained in Tunisia. June 5, 1967, the day that Israel attacked its Arab neighbors to begin the Six Day War, was a particularly explosive example of violence against the Jews in Tunisia; mob violence broke out, Jewish shops, cars and synagogues were looted, burned, desecrated and destroyed. Although President Bourghuiba appeared on TV and the radio and implored the violence to stop, the Jews were not reassured, and 7,000 immigrated to France

Other examples of violence punctuated the Tunisian Jewish community’s contemporary history. In 1985 a Tunisian guard opened fire on worshippers in a synagogue in Djerba and five people (four Jewish) were killed. On April 11, 2002 the 2,000 year old El Ghriba Synagogue was targeted by an Al Qaeda truck bomber, who managed to detonate close to the synagogue and kill 21 people, 16 of which were German and French (non-Jewish) tourists. As a result of these relatively isolated attacks, the Tunisian government guards the community closely, and increases protection after topical events in the Middle East, such as the Israeli bombing of the PLO headquarters in Tunis in 1985 and the Temple Mount “incident” in 1990. The population, which had begun the post-war era at a peak of 105,000, diminished over the next few decades; the total of Tunisian Jews making aliya to Israel reached 45,000 and those fleeing to France about 60,000. By 1990, only about 3,000 Jews remained in the country today, most of whom reside in Tunis and Djerba.

While in Morocco I learned a few other things about Tunisia. Namely, that it is considered one of the most liberal and progressive Arab Muslim country in the Middle East. The examples provided were the following: many Tunisians do not fast on Ramadan and it is not enforced by the government (as it is de facto in Morocco), most women do not wear head coverings and it is very developed and touristy.

All of this information was compiled from outside research and secondary sources. I hope to use this as a basis for conversations with Jews still living in Tunisia, in order to ascertain their affirmation or rejection of these recognized facts, and further details into these events. I particularly wish to discover the personal stories of this population, with regards to life during the German occupation and the struggle for independence, the incidences of violence, the migration of the remainder of the population and the characteristics of contemporary Jewish life in this Arab-Muslim state with a seemingly less-than-amicable record of relations with their Jewish community.

Sources:

• Wikipedia
• “The Jews of Tunisia” by Mitchell Bard
• “The History of the Jews of Tunisia” by Alexander Rosenzweig
• Refer to the bibliography of my original paper for more sources

During my time in Casablanca (on and off for the last 3 months) I was lucky enough to find a hotel room that has a TV and also even 1 channel in English: the BBC! This is really great news for me, not only because I am a news-junky, but because it was extremely important to me to follow the US Presidential election this fall. And the BBC has not disappointed; they run segments, stories and updates on the election with every broadcast and have done so for the last 3 months. However, it is really their “slogan” that captures the essence of what I will refer to as the “international perspective” on the current race for President of the United States: “US Election 08: the vote that affects your world.”

Sometimes it saddens me to not be home for such a momentous event in the history of my country; I imagine the rallies, the presidential debates being viewed in bars across the country amongst friends and then the continuing of the debate over a beer afterwards, “election fever,” and simply the experience, for the first time in my life, of an America that is actually engaged in its political process. However, my election fall has been the opposite of dull; the people I meet in Morocco fill the void created by my physical absence in the US with thoughtful questions, concerns and debates, and have certainly given me a unique election experience and a rare outlook on the race from the international perspective. It is as if the BBC’s slogan has really captured the mentality of the people in Morocco- Moroccans, Muslims, Jews, tourists, migrants- because the widespread interest and knowledge of the US election by these people is truly extraordinary. They certainly are conscious that the outcome will affect even their every day lives here, and for that reason, jump at the chance to discuss the issues with a real live American (me!)

And for those of you who know me, you know how I relish such opportunities. In the following paragraphs I will outline the election trends and support I have observed, along with interesting stories on the subject. But first, I want to make clear how often I encounter a person who wants to “talk politics”- everyone from fellow travelers in hostels, to taxi drivers, to the guy trying to sell you a tajine pot from his shop in the medina, to families that have invited me for dinner. Even people who do not speak English, and who I begin conversing with in my simple Arabic, can easily communicate the question on their minds… “McCain or Obama?” And my answer is always the same, and the majority of the time responded to with a smile or a thumbs up: “Obama, of course.”

I have only met 1 Moroccan Muslim McCain supporter in 3 months. I believe this is pretty telling, considering the fact that I talk to almost everyone I meet and much of the time these discussions include politics. The overwhelming majority of Moroccans are devout Obama supporters and anticipate that an Obama presidency of the Untied States will help ease the US-Muslim-world divide, which they argue was created by George W. Bush. They view McCain as another conservative war-monger, with his sights set on the Muslim and Arab world; in other words, a McCain administration would only continue George Bush’s foreign policy. Needless to say, Moroccans hate Bush, and I think that their support for Obama is as much an anti-Bush/anti-McCain stance, as it is pro-Obama and his policies. His message of “change” has certainly resonated here, as Moroccans believe that Obama will enact policies that will restore America’s previously auspicious international image and, perhaps most importantly, policies that end the unfair targeting of the Muslim world (this week’s events provide the case in point- the US attacks on both Syria and Pakistan are considered just more examples of a Bush policy that labels all Muslims and Arabs as terrorists, without regard to national sovereignty, sound intelligence, or the safety of civilians).

During my travels I have also met many tourists, particularly from Europe, and interestingly enough, their opinions on the subject echo those of Moroccans. However, there is one story that has stood out in my mind over the last few months, and even helped me move from undecided to “team Obama.” While in my backpacker’s hostel in Chefchaouen in the beginning of September, I met a very nice couple from Spain (Marc is from Madrid and Julia from Barcelona). I hit it off with them not only because they appreciated that I knew Spanish (even though we spoke in English because theirs was excellent), but also because I have lived in Spain in the past. At one point, Marc says, “OK, so I have to ask you because I am very interested in the politics going on in America right now. And I’m sure you get this question a lot… but really, who do you want to win and who do you think is going to win?” At the time, I was still undecided, so I told him so, and I told him that it was incredibly close and I did not think anyone could speculate until Election Day. I went on to tell him that I had my doubts on Obama winning because there is such a large portion of the United States, which is often ignored because its out of the cities/coast, that is still racist and would never vote for a black man. He responded that this was his biggest fear and then went on to explain to me why it was essential for the US’s status as a super power for Obama to win: he argued that the US’s biggest current problem is the deterioration of its international image. With international respect for the US diminishing, suspicion rising, and hatred towards Bush at sky-high levels, the US loses the support of its allies and its leverage in diplomatic and economic negotiations. Therefore, he continued, the United States needs a new face to persuade the rest of the world that Bush’s US is a thing of the past and that someone can return the US to its historically good name and image. Because the rest of the world is actively looking for and seeking this new American face, they have embraced Obama as the one who can provide it.

This argument on the significance of America’s reputation to the global population was only further confirmed to me throughout the last 3 months. People in Morocco and Europeans do not hate America or Americans, per se, because they recognize that the policies of one president in 8 years do not reflect the American population or history as a whole. While they do strongly oppose Bush and his policies, they ultimately believe that America, still the world superpower, can return to its position of esteem and grace, and will if the right leader is in power. And the major idea contributing to this conviction, is the foreign belief that Obama will pull troops out of Iraq.

The last and rare demographic worth discussing is the Jewish Moroccan perspective on the election. As I spend a lot of time dining with Jewish Moroccan families, the issue of the election inevitably arises at almost every meal. And Jewish Moroccans almost unanimously support McCain. When I ask why the answer is usually, “Because he is a Muslim/Arab and will be bad for Israel,” and also usually includes some positive reference to Bush’s policies towards Israel. While none of this is, in fact, true, it conveys the real power of Jewish bubbemaisers; most of the Jews I know have received that chain email that claims that all Jews should boycott Obama because he is a Muslim and will destroy Israel (usually coming from a Jewish grandmother). The Jewish Moroccans truly believe this to be fact, and still do not believe me most of the time when I justify Obama as my choice for President.

I, of course, begin by explaining to them that Israel, and foreign policy in general, is the most important issue to me, and that I was born to an Israeli father as a Zionist, currently have an Israeli passport and a significant amount of family living in the country. I would never vote for someone that would threaten Israel because of my personal and professional ties, interests and stakes in the country. I then try to politely explain to them that their facts are wrong. Obama is not and has never been an Arab, first of all. He is neither a Muslim; his father is a Muslim from Kenya (not an Arab country), who divorced his mother when Obama was 2 and only ever spent 1 month with his son throughout his life. Aside for the fact that both parents are confirmed atheists, Obama joined the United Church of Christ and has been a practicing Christian for over 20 years. Furthermore, I try to explain, even if he was a Muslim, the United States is a democratic country that not only preserves the separation of church and state, but also whose decisions are not solely made by 1 person. Additionally, in order to be a threat to Israel he would have to fight a core American value that is pro-Israel, as well as many institutional apparatus that protect both American Jews and Israel.

Then I usually ask them why they think Bush was good for Israel, to which I have yet to receive a concrete response with tangible answers. This opens the door for my favorite topic of conversation, and I reply, “Let’s consider events in Israel since Bush began his don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy towards it: we lost a war against Hezbollah in the North, which empowered them enough to become democratically elected members of the Lebanese parliament; Hamas took over the Gaza Strip and now has a stronghold to launch attacks against Israel, which also caused a weakening in the position of Abbas and Fatah, Israel’s sole negotiating partner for peace; the peace process is worse off now than 8 years ago, particularly as Israel continues to build the settlements in the West Bank, which will be the largest hurdle in final settlement negotiations; and finally, Bush’s policies in Iraq caused the instability in the region that allowed for the rise of power and arrogance of Iran, Israel’s most formidable enemy and threat.” Sometimes I tell them that all of these things happened because Bush turned a blind eye to Israel, allowing it to do whatever it pleases, which is bad for the country in the long run (as these examples demonstrate). Israel needs an American President with vision, foresight, strength and respect in order to truly address its core security issues and work towards peace in the region that will ultimately benefit everyone.

It’s hard to believe that this long-fought campaign is coming to an end, and the world will finally have the answer to its long-awaited question: “What direction are the US and the world heading towards?” Regardless of who wins, I do not envy them; they have MONUMENTAL tasks ahead of them cleaning up the mess that the Bush administration left behind. I just hope that Americans and foreigners alike do not set their expectations too high and get disappointed. The undoing of America’s image and the current global economic and political instability took 8 years to achieve, and will take at least as many to mend. May G-d help their soul.

My friend Dan Reich also wrote about the election on his blog…  http://danreich.com/?p=73 The video at the bottom is really cute:)

Rabat was my last research-related destination in Morocco. As the current capital of Morocco, it acts as its political center, housing all government and ministerial offices, embassies, the mausoleum for kings who have passed away and even the King’s official palace. Historically, Rabat had a thriving Jewish community, which used to reside in the mellah and was serviced by a number of synagogues. Today between 150 and 200 Jews still live in Rabat, making it the 3^rd most populous Jewish city in Morocco, behind Casablanca and Marrakesh. The community is serviced by two synagogues, one used for prayer in the new city and the ancient one in the mellah open for visitors, a Rabbi, a shochet, and a kosher restaurant.

I arrived in Rabat on the Friday after Yom Kippur and spent five days at the house of a very nice, Jewish couple (below), enjoying Shabbat and the first two nights of Sukkot with them and the community in Rabat. Perhaps because the family is more traditionally than strictly religiously observant of Judaism, I noticed that there were some relatively secular and well-assimilated families living in Rabat. However, I also met, interviewed and dined with some of the more religious components of the community, so I believe I have a well-rounded idea of the history of Rabat and its contemporary realities.

Stories of the Jewish population of Rabat’s migration displayed similar trends as other cities: the migrations occurred in waves marked by Arab-Israeli conflicts, poorer people left for Israel around 1948 for a better economic life, later migrations were triggered by anticipation of (after Moroccan independence) and eventually the realization of bad economic conditions, as well as fear. However, for the first time in three months, the “fear factor” was actually supported by 2 concrete examples that would warrant enough fear amongst Jews to cause their flight. These two events were particularly significant in the literature on the migration of Jewish communities from Morocco, and before I left I was expecting to hear about them a lot more frequently.

These events include a Jewish massacre in Oujda in 1948 (a city close to the eastern border with Algeria) and the visit of Gamal Abdel Nasser (the former Egyptian president and “father” of the Arab Nationalism movement) to Morocco. The former is one of only two official accounts of organized violence against Jews in Morocco’s recent history (the other in nearby Djereda during the same year), but would understandably instill fear in a population that was increasingly on edge after the creation of Israel. The latter event would have been frightening for the Jews of Morocco because at the time, Nasser was the symbol of Arab unification and cooperation, particularly against the Arab world’s “common enemy” of Israel. Moroccans came out in hordes to support this hero and the cause of Arab solidarity, which caused Jews to question their status as Moroccans because the support for Nasser portrayed Moroccans identifying increasingly as anti-Israeli Arabs, instead of Moroccans. The two men that mentioned these events described the increasing fear of the Jews in Rabat, as it became more dangerous to even leave the house with a kippah on, and at least part of the reason that people began to emigrate. However, they fervently denied that the Jews in Rabat experienced any sort of violence, persecution or harassment, and still maintained cordial relations with their Muslim neighbors.

What I find most interesting about these events is not so much their effect on and role in the migration, which would vary from person to person and family to family, but rather its lack of prevalence in the current Jewish Moroccan discourse on its own population’s exit. I can think of a few reasons to support this strange phenomenon, but it is purely speculation and not proven through firsthand accounts. The Jewish population with which I speak are those that remained in Morocco, and therefore, one would assume, the segment of the population that was relatively unfettered by news of violence against Jews at that time. This event may have seemed insignificant to them at the time, and for that reason does not even exist as part of their historical memory/narrative of the departed Jewish population. One possible reason for the insignificance assigned to the massacres is proximity; Oujda and Djereda are located hundreds of miles from most Moroccan cities, and is commonly associated with or considered closer to Algeria in many aspects of life.

I believe that the current Jewish Moroccan population does not associate Nasser’s visit to Morocco with the reasons for the Jewish migration because of the Moroccan (Jewish and Muslim) distinction between Jews and Israelis. I have mentioned in other posts the historical fortitude of this differentiation in Morocco; the Jews may not have been frightened of Nasser’s visit because they were confident not only in their position in Moroccan society, but also in the Moroccan Muslim conviction/mentality that separates their Jews from others.

The last question begs to be asked: so why did I finally encounter these reasons in Rabat? Unfortunately, I do not have an answer, but rather a postulation. The man who originally mentioned it to me is originally from a small village in the mountains not far from Oujda, and perhaps it is a more salient event in his mind because at one time, it touched particularly close to home. Furthermore, he is very well-educated, has been a teacher in Morocco since 1960, and lives in the city that Nasser visited, all of which may attribute to his knowledge on these events. Therefore, I conclude that this man was the exception, rather than the rule, and it was by chance that I heard about the massacre here (I may have heard of it from others originally from nearby villages, currently living in other cities now). However, it is peculiar that I only heard about Nasser’s visit one time here, as Rabat was the city that experienced it firsthand.

Both times I visited Marrakesh, I had the same, inauspicious first impression; the beautiful aesthetics of the city were overshadowed by the aggressiveness and rudeness of its inhabitants. I do not even believe that my preconceived notions on Marrakesh, ascertained from other travelers and Moroccans alike who had visited, influenced these impressions. Marrakesh is Morocco’s top vacation/holiday destination, particularly from Europe, and attracts millions of tourists a year who seem to love the antiquity, hustle and bustle of the medina and the modern and Western aspects (read: nightclubs) of the Ville Nouvelle. The Moroccans, on the other hand, resent that this sharp increase in tourism has also caused a drastic rise in the cost of everything in Marrakesh, but acknowledge that it is a fun place to go for a few good nights out.

While I did not have the chance to sample the nightlife for myself, I was able to conduct my research. I obtained much of the information from the president of the Marrakesh Jewish Community, who also organized for me to live on the second floor of the 500 year old Synagogue Alzama, located in the mellah. From there, I had Shabbat dinner with another couple living in the synagogue, and Shabbat lunch with another family who is one of the last remaining Jewish families living in the mellah.

This synagogue was built in 1492 by the megorashim, or Jews that fled Spain after the Inquisition. When the megorashim first arrived, tensions existed between them and the native Jewish community, who looked like their Arab neighbors and had different religious and cultural practices. They built this synagogue in order to preserve the Spanish methods of Jewish observation, but over the years, the tensions alleviated as the communities began to integrate. After its construction, it also became a yeshiva or Talmud Torah and recruited religious men from many rural regions all over Morocco to come and study. The community supported these scholars; each family in the mellah would “adopt” a student and sponsor them during the course of their studies. The room that I stayed in for the weekend was actually a classroom a few centuries ago.

Before Israeli independence, Jewish life in Marrakesh was normal for about 500 years (after the Inquisition from Spain).  However, as religious Jews aware of the diaspora and the Promised Land, this community was always “wishing to go home.”  Around the time of independence about 60 years ago, the Jewish population of Marrakesh reached 27,000! But that began to decline with independence because the devout community came to the realization that the time had finally come to return home.

Even before Israeli independence, the Jewish Agency was working to build the new country of Israel, and after 1948, came to Morocco to help move Jews to Israel, relatively secretly.  Many of those that moved during this time did not understand politics and made their decisions based on the following information: there was a Jewish disaster in Europe, a land for Jews in Israel was created, and there was war with Muslim Arabs.  Although King Mohammed V, who had saved the Jews from the Hitler and Vichy regimes during World War II, did not want to see his Jewish population emigrate, he did not block the migration.  The numbers of Jews from Marrakesh that emigrated from Morocco increased with every major conflict in Israel because they represented opportunities for the Jewish Agency to come to Morocco and recruit new émigrés.  One other reason for the increase in migration was that despite the good relations between Arabs and Jews, the Jews always felt that this was not their own land.

The French house that stood where the Beth El Synagogue in the Ville Nouvelle stands today was bought by a Jewish man in 1959.  Before Moroccan independence in 1956, Jews were not permitted to live in the Ville Nouvelle, but afterward, they began to buy property and moved from the mellah into the new city.  Recognizing the need for a synagogue for the new Jewish inhabitants of the Ville Nouvelle, Beth El Synagogue was built and is still in use today.

Maybe because I was embedded in the religious sector of the current community in Marrakesh, I was most exposed to the “Zionist reason” for emigration. However, this may have some merit considering not only the existence of such a religious establishment for over 500 years, but also because the majority of tzadikim, or old, wise, sanctified Rabbis, came from the areas around Marrakesh and the Marrakshis have historically glorified these tsadikim with pride and religious fervor.

Currently, there are about 240 Jews living in Marrakesh, serviced by 3 synagogues (one in the Medina, one in the Mellah and one in the Ville Nouvelle), a kosher restaurant, a Rabbi, and a shochet.  Most of the Jews in Marrakesh are older, with only about 12 children under the age of 18 years old remaining.  In present-day Morocco, about 3000 Jews reside, 2000 of which in Casablanca and the other 1000 spread out amongst the other larger Moroccan cities.  The President of the community argued that it is good for Morocco to maintain its Jewish population because it shows the rest of the world that Jews can and do live well here.

Fes is probably my favorite Moroccan city, and I regret that I was only able to spend about 12 days there total. It is considered the religious and cultural center of Morocco, and is the home of the largest and oldest medina in North Africa, the oldest university in the world, and a beautifully modern, developed, and European Ville Nouvelle.

While in Fes I met many Jewish and Muslim people who were willing to talk about the Jewish history in Fes, and the relations amongst the two communities, historically and into the present day. In 1947, the official Jewish population of Fes numbered 14,140, while some people claim that at its peak, the population reached 25,000. Today, the Jewish population consists of about 70 or 80 Jews, most over the age of 60 years old. Despite this, the community still maintains all of the historical Jewish sites including a few old synagogues, the vast Jewish cemetery and the accompanying museum (under construction when I visited), a synagogue for regular use, a community center that houses not only a butcher shop, but also a kosher restaurant, and a mikveh. Much of the information I will provide in this post actually comes from many meetings with one man, who is the city’s Rabbi, Chazan, Shochet, and Sopher and who also has an extensive private collection of Jewish artifacts from all over Morocco.

The Jewish narrative in Fes reflects many of the other cities on which I have researched, but there are a few particularities worth mentioning. Like Jews in other cities, and other Jews in Fes, the Rabbi argued that the Jewish migration from Fes increased after every war between Arabs and Israelis. These decisions were partly based on a fear of instability in Morocco, which he claimed was unfounded because the Moroccans not only were good to the Jews, but also let them decide whether they wanted to stay or leave. Interestingly, in conversations with some elderly women still residing in Fes, I learned that many couples with children decided to move with their children when they left for university because they did not want to constantly travel back and forth. While I had heard this reason for migration in the past, I heard it many more times and more pronouncedly in Fes, leading me to believe that perhaps an attachment to family and a fear of a dwindling Jewish community played a more significant role than of fear of threats from Muslims. This was further reinforced by each interviewee consistently claiming that in the past the relations between the communities were more than just safe, but friendly and fluid; one woman reported that when she would play as a young child in her neighborhood she never even knew the difference between the Jews and Muslims.

As in the case of the other cities, the destination of the earlier waves of migration (in the 50s and early 60s) was Israel, whereas beginning in the mid 1960s, the Jews began emigrating more to France and Canada. However, the role of money and financial stability seems to have played a less clear role in Fes than in other cities. It was often a factor not mentioned or less discussed (than in interviews in other cities) in interviews with Jewish Fassis. What I did lear was that after 1973 some rich Jews left for Canada and France, but many stayed because they had established lives here. Overall, it seems that the connection to a Jewish community and families was the driving force behind the Jewish Fassi migration, and as more Jews began to leave, more followed because they desired and required the type of vibrant Jewish life that Fes used to provide its Jewish population.

I want to tell one last story, told to me by a Muslim woman, in order to highlight some important issues facing this community in the present day.  About 7 years ago, a poor, Muslim man saw a rich man and decided to steal his belongings and kill him afterward.  After the investigation, it was discovered that the rich man was Jewish, and many people in Fes construed the crime as a religious hate crime.  However, this woman contends that this man was just poor, looking for anyone who had money, and probably did not even know that the man was Jewish.  She argued that in his state of desperation, he would have stolen from and murdered a Muslim, that religion did not play a factor, and that sometimes, people look to blame problems on the issues highlighted in the media.  However, she argued, violence against Jews, for being Jewish, has never existed in Fes, ad there was no reason to believe that his motives were anything but monetary.

Hey everyone!  As part of my few requirements for the Watson Fellowship, I must submit 3 quarterly reports on my progress and the triumphs and challenges I am facing as the year continues.  Copied below is the report, which provides a good idea of the things I have learned since I have been in Morocco, outside of the research-related posts from before.  Enjoy!

I began my “Watson Journey,” as it is entitled on my blog, in Morocco, the homeland of my paternal grandparents. I was immediately struck by the metropolitan nature of my first destination, Casablanca, and was further awed by the beauty and variety of landscapes and cities that this country has to offer. I was additionally comforted by the familiarity of many Moroccan cultural characteristics; I found not only the food reminiscent of home, but also the warm, open and hospitable nature of most Moroccans, regardless of religion, which constantly reminds me of home and particularly, my grandparents’ house. However, I quickly learned, and continue to observe that, in any grouping of people, whether it be by locality, country, religion, or nation, both good and bad people exist. I believe that one of the intended or unintended outcomes of the Watson year is to develop the judgment necessary to navigate amongst the good and the bad, to learn when to trust others and when to be careful, and in my experience, there is no better place to innocuously do so than in Morocco.

Moroccan aesthetics were not the only thing to catch my attention within my first few weeks; as I began to explore my research topic of the Jewish migration from the country, I was bombarded with other aspects of the Jewish existence in this Muslim country. Originally, I intended to become acquainted with and assimilate into the Jewish community in Morocco, in order to learn about their stories and experiences during the times when other Jews were emigrating, and to gain access to trustworthy Muslims in which to interview on the same topic. Within the first week I noticed that while oftentimes this topic was not a preferred one for conversation amongst the Jews I had met, someone was always equipped with an equally interesting and relevant issue, usually pertaining to contemporary Jewish life. Continuously finding myself intrigued by the realities of their life in a Muslim context, its triumphs and facilities, as well as its challenges and failures, I decided to expand the scope of my research to include the present day. Currently, I am studying the causes of the Jewish migration, from both the remaining Jewish and Muslim Moroccan perspectives, as well as this phenomenon’s effect on the remnant Jewish and Muslim populations, in terms of the resulting realities of a minority Jewish community living a Jewish life in a Muslim context.

The following report will highlight the successes and failures I have experienced over the last three months in realizing these, albeit broader in scope than originally intended, research goals. However, I will also discuss the progress of my personal goal(s) for this year, which most importantly include a search for my personal identity. This question is probably most prescient in Morocco because of my Moroccan heritage, so I really spent the last 3 months discovering whether or not I can identify with Moroccans, perhaps not in language, but in the intangible aspects of identity that are transmitted in terms of character, values, and mentality.

Due to the extremely open, warm and welcoming nature of Jewish Moroccans (and Muslims as well, for that matter), I am very happy to report that I have been able to familiarize myself with the Jewish community here. About 2000 Jews reside in Casablanca and about 1000 throughout seven to ten other Moroccan cities. I have spent around 4 to 6 weeks in and out of Casablanca, particularly observing and engaging in their religious and cultural celebrations, attending synagogue, holiday parties, many dinners/meals at people’s homes and making friends and contacts throughout the community. I spent the remainder of my 3 months here travelling to 7 other cities that still have Jewish populations ranging from 30 to 250 people (Tangier, Meknes, Fes, Essaouira, Agadir, Marrakesh, Rabat). While I only was able to spend from 2 to 8 days in each city, the small size of its population facilitated meeting Jews and discussing with them their personal lives and stories, the specific history of the city, and how life is for them today. Generally, many of these cities display similar migratory trends: some of these cities’ populations are often the result of internal migrations from small mountain/desert villages into the city, Jews left Morocco in significant numbers after each Arab-Israeli war or conflict, each wave of migration displayed similar trends of causes and destinations, and ultimately, money, comfort and well-being played the most prominent factor in determining the Jewish decisions to either remain in Morocco or leave. Unfortunately, outside of Casablanca and Marrakesh, it becomes clear that Jewish life in these cities is in the process of becoming extinct, as none or very few Jews under the age of 40 now reside there. However, those that live in these cities are able to find most of what they need to live a appropriate and devout religious life (access to a synagogue, Rabbi, kosher food, etc.) Within Casablanca, on the other hand, the Jewish community, while smaller than earlier in history, is still vibrant; over 30 synagogues are still in use just within the city, kosher food, stores and restaurants abound, and a rich cultural life maintains the unity of the community.

From discussions with both Jews and Muslims, the historical and contemporary relations among Muslims and Jews in Morocco are 95% of the time characterized as “good, no problems, we are all Moroccans.” Many Muslims that I have spoken with express their appreciation for their Jewish counterparts, and many even convey regret that they do not have the same close relationships with Jews as their fathers did because the community is so small now. However amicable these relations may appear on the surface, after 3 months I observed that a mutual respect exists between the communities, but also a racism on both sides that generally keeps the two communities separated on a cultural and friendly level. The biggest problem is reiterated time after time to me by both Muslims and Jews: because Muslim-Jewish interaction has decreased as the Jewish population has diminished, young Muslim Moroccans only know about Jewish people from what they see on TV on Israel, which fuels not only misunderstanding and perhaps even hate, but dangerously blurs the identity-distinction historically distinguished amongst Moroccans since 1948 between Israelis and Jewish Moroccans.

On a personal level, I have been able to make progress on certain goals. First, both my Arabic and my French (an unexpected goal/accomplishment) has improved greatly in the past 3 months. I still use the Classical Arabic when I have a chance, but I have also become conversational in the Moroccan dialect! Furthermore, upon arrival I knew absolutely no French, and now I can understand main ideas of a conversation, and hold a simple conversation myself. Both of these languages will prove helpful when I reach my next destination, Tunisia.

As part of my search for identity, it was important for me to pinpoint or classify a generally Moroccan mentality or state of mind. I understand that this is a nearly impossible task because no 2 Moroccans (or any people in the same “group”) think alike, but I believe that a general sketch of the important values in Moroccan society, and how those translate into a particular mentality, has finally begun to emerge. The first, most noticeable value observed by someone travelling alone is what is called “Arab hospitality,” or what seems to be for Moroccans almost a cultural obligation- for example, it would be completely possible to live in Morocco for 3 months and never pay for a single meal. I have been invited to dine with everyone from a taxi driver, to men working in shops in the medina, to Jews at synagogue and more. Even while many Moroccans do not speak English, they almost universally know how to say the translation of the traditional Moroccan welcome “Marhababik,” or “you are welcome.” The second most prevalent component of the Moroccan mentality is based in the long-established and well-ingrained value of a gender gap, which manifests itself in very structured and rigid, although evolving slowly, gender roles. While women are awarded all of the freedoms and civil liberties as men according to the law, the customary practices and every day lives of women vary significantly from their male counterparts, and as a single women travelling alone, I am frequently made to feel uncomfortable or inappropriate and am often judged for my free and independent mind and research. I hear the following question often, from both Jews and non-Jews: “You are alone? What does your father think of this?” Unknowingly, these people are reflecting the aforementioned values and mentality because for them a woman proceeds from the protection of her father to that of her husband, and it is difficult for them to imagine a woman living and travelling alone not only without protection, but also without permission. Many more examples of the gender gap affecting my every day life exist, but essentially reflect the same lesson: Moroccans are caught between traditional values and morals defined over thousands of years of history and a desire to develop the country and lift it out of poverty and towards development. While in the United States these two are mutually exclusive, for a large portion of the Moroccan population, both are desired and pursued simultaneously.

As in the case of all other Watson fellows and all researchers conducting fieldwork, my triumphs are accompanied by plenty of challenges. The first and most pressing research-related challenge is in the logistics associated with obtaining the Muslim point of view on Jewish history and contemporary life. While I have met and interviewed Muslims in Morocco, the majority of my information comes from the Jewish point of view. I have met most of the Moroccan Jews I know here through synagogue or the community’s office, which in my experience constitutes the more religiously observant segment of the Jewish population in Morocco. This segment, for reasons I have not yet been able to decipher, tends to be more close-minded and racist and therefore, do not associate with non-Jews outside of the work environment. This has made it difficult for me to find Muslims to interview through that avenue. Another logistical issue lies with safety- I have found this topic to be relatively sensitive, and therefore I must be careful with whom I choose to discuss it.

Once I have ascertained a suitable interviewee (Jew or Muslim), I have encountered the issue of blatant “sugar-coating.” As a good judge of character and situations, I am aware when people either do not always tell me the truth or make the truth sound better or “sweeter” than reality. For Jews, the reasons are one or a combination of the following: 1. they do not trust me, 2. they do not want to seem racist, and/or 3. they fear that if they say something negative against Muslims or the government someone will find out and it will hurt/negatively affect them. For non-Jews the reasons are essentially the same, but are heightened because sometimes they know that I am Jewish so they choose what they say carefully, and also because they know that the government protects the Jews and speaking badly about them can lead to dire consequences from the government. Based on the research I did before the trip, I was expecting this lack of sincerity and feelings of distrust, and for these reasons have worked hard to develop relationships with people before conducting interviews, in order to gain their trust and be able to differentiate the truth from the sugar-coated stories I hear.

The personal challenges I have faced also came as little surprise to me. Loneliness, while at times cherished, can at others be debilitating- particularly as I spent the Jewish holiday season without my family and seeing others together and enjoying each other’s company, usually after some time apart. Compounding this loneliness were cultural misunderstandings on my part from the first two months here, which hindered my attempts to make real friends. More specifically, it took me a while to realize that the gender gap I observed, for example, in street cafes occupied only by men, reaches into the inner crevices of the Moroccan mind and mentality, and prevent the type of male-female platonic relationships that I am accustomed to at home. The greatest personal challenge I have faced since entering this part of the world is truly grasping the every day consequences and realities of such an ingrained cultural value, and figuring out how to deal with such notions that are so contrary to everything for which I stand. As a guest in this country, I have learned that I must compromise some of what I consider my personal freedoms, for the sake of assimilation and safety, but I am still searching for a way to balance these accommodations and my independent and free personality and spirit.

With all of this being said, I think that my original personal goal of a search for identity is becoming evident. Both the values of hospitality and gender roles in Moroccan society are reminiscent of my grandparents, my parents, and my home, which is something I have always known. What I have learned in these three months is where exactly these ideals originated. Now I see that my grandparents have, in fact, transmitted them to their offspring, and I am thankful to them for instilling in me the importance, for community and human connection, of an open-door policy for one’s home. I have always, and now even more so, truly identified and agreed with this aspect of my upbringing, and through my time in Morocco, I have experienced first-hand and appreciate the benefits this particular value can offer. However, I am also very much a product of the free, equal and liberal environment where I was raised and a maternal feminist grandmother that taught me from a young age that girls can do anything boys can. And I do not think that this is something I can compromise in the long run, even though I will make such accommodations this year, out of both respect and fear. So I suppose after Morocco I consider myself a Jewish American, highlighted by streaks of the Moroccan mentality.

Agadir is a lovely beach resort city located on the Atlantic Ocean in the south of Morocco. After many years of reconstruction after an earthquake in 1960 completely devastated the city, Agadir is now one of Morocco’s top beach resort destinations. Wealthy Moroccans, as well as Europeans from the United Kingdom to Russia, frequent the cty year round because of its gorgeous weather and beaches. I intended to take a quick, 2-day trip there after a hectic hiloulah-weekend in Essaouira, in order to unwind, get a tan and take a break from work before heading to Marrakesh. However, as I seem to always manage, I found some Jews and stayed a few extra days to learn about their community in Agadir.

I met the first Jews sort of by accident- I read in my trusty Lonely Planet that there is a great restaurant on the beach called Chez Mimi, who’s cuisine reflects Mimi’s origins- French, Spanish and Jewish. I went figuring maybe I could chat with Mimi a little over dinner, and that would be that. Well, it turned out that Mimi wasn’t there when I sat down for dinner, but I was thrilled anyway because they had kosher meat available on the menu AND served alcohol. This is my kind of place. About halfway through the meal, Mimi’s husband, Alan, approached my table asking if I had asked for Mimi. After explaining to him that I had, a little about myself and why I wanted to meet her, he returned to my table with his and my dinner and we dined together while talking about Jewish things. He informed me that I should return the next afternoon when Mimi was working, as she would be happy to meet me and talk to me. I couldn’t believe my luck when he reported that in 2 days a Yizkor was being held at the synagogue; it was a rare occasion for most of the community to gather because they rarely even receive a minyan on Shabbat. The following is a summary of what I learned at the Yizkor about the Jewish community in Agadir.

The Jewish community in Agadir was very numerous when the earthquake struck in 1960; it did not discriminate between Muslims and Jews and many from both communities were lost during this tragedy. The city decided not to try to sift through the wreckage nor to rebuild the old medina that was the site of ruin and destruction, but instead, built a cemetery right on top of the former medina. Both a Muslim and a Jewish cemetery can be visited today, eerily on top of the exact spot where the city used to stand. In the years following the earthquake, the new city of Agadir was built further down the hill from the old medina. Many of the Jews that survived the earthquake moved to Marrakesh (a few hours away) or other cities in Morocco.

The community that currently resides in Agadir numbers about 80, approximately 20 families, and consists of mainly older people. This number fluctuates as many Jews only reside in Agadir for vacation and usually have other homes in Europe. After the earthquake, the city gave the Jewish community a piece of land on which to build a new synagogue, and this stands today. Unfortunately, they do not usually receive a minyan for Shabbat, and Jewish life is relatively limited in the city. However, the Jews here live well; many of them own thriving businesses in this bustling tourist city, get along well with their Arab neighbors and live comfortably. Mimi and Alan even explained to me that they have more difficulties with the 4000 French people living in Agadir than the Arabs. They reported that this community is racist because they consider themselves superior to the other communities in Agadir, they only associate with one another, and they even behave nastily to the couple because they close the restaurant on Friday afternoons for Shabbat. On the other hand, they argue, the Arabs respect their establishment and their decisions and the couple maintains very strong relationships and even friendships with the Moroccans residing in Agadir.

While it didn’t end up being a true “get away” because I was able to meet Jews and learn about the Jewish history of the city, I truly enjoyed my time in Agadir. Its modern and European appearance did actually make me feel like I had left Morocco for a few days, which was a nice change after about 6 weeks in the country. Think- Eilat, Israel. Furthermore, I felt completely at home with the Jewish community there; everyone was excited to meet me and talk to me and I was even able to make contacts for my travels later in the year.

Every year in America the month of Ramadan passes by with little change or notice; however and perhaps obviously, in a Muslim country, life and people’s attitudes and schedules are completely altered as they observe the holiest month of the Muslim Calendar.

The religious obligations for Muslims during Ramadan is to abstain from eating, drinking, and smoking from sun-up to sun-down every day for a month. Other habits, such as drinking alcohol, premarital sex, drug use etc., are forbidden in Islam but may or may not be observed during the year, depending on the religious devotion of the person. During Ramadan, however, they are avoided particularly during the day, and oftentimes throughout the entire month. Furthermore, it is required of Muslims to continue to work throughout the duration of the month. According to a devout Muslim friend of mine, the religious significance behind the fasting is for every Muslim to step into the shoes of a person who is less fortunate and perhaps cannot afford food regularly. Through fasting, Muslims gain sympathy for the underprivileged and hopefully increase the zakat, or charity, they give. Additionally, it is supposed to be a time for family and prayer.

The religious “rules” for Ramadan cause a very interesting shift in the every day reality in Muslim countries. First and foremost, their schedules change drastically; many Moroccans wake up at around 4 am to eat breakfast before the sun comes up. Afterwards, they sleep until about 10 am and then begin their day. As soon as the call to prayer is rung, at around 6:30 or 7 pm (sunset), all Moroccans run to have break fast. Many Moroccans also eat dinner at about midnight or 1 am, before retiring to bed. Having had break fast with some different families and friends, it was comforting to observe the relative uniformity of the traditional break fast: dates (which are unbelievably delicious in Morocco), harira (a tomato-based soup with chickpeas, barley or rice, and sometimes meat), shabbakia (a fried dough-cookie that is marinated in honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds), m’lawi (a layered, doughy, savory pancake that is grilled giving it a crunchy exterior and a stretchy, chewy interior. It is sometimes stuffed with fried onions or meat.), and always a milk based smoothie that has fruit, orange flower, and stale bread in it. It is definitely an interesting mix of sweet and savory, but delicious, nonetheless. Dinner and breakfast usually include “normal” Moroccan fare.

Life outside the home also changes drastically during the month of Ramadan. Stores, shops etc. do not open until later in the morning because the owners are sleeping. Many restaurants and cafes not in central or touristy areas are closed during the day, and it is not uncommon to find an irritable or cranky Moroccan, particularly after 4 pm. What was especially bizarre for me, particularly the first time I was aware of it in Tangier, was the nature of the cities from around 6:15 pm to about 830 pm every single night. My hotel was located on a very busy, central street in Tangier and my first night there I stepped onto the sidewalk at about 630 and found the street completely, almost eerily, deserted. As the entire country observes the fast, EVERYONE returns home for break fast at precisely the same time, leaving the country virtually lifeless during this special time. At about 9 pm, however, it is as if the country does a complete 180, and all the people that were fasting, tired and hungry all day, emerge on the streets, nourished and in good spirits. Cafes are filled to the brim with men drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and playing cards, while women are found in groups all over the streets chatting or watching their children play around.

A few other interesting notes about Ramadan’s observance in Morocco… Unlike some other Muslim countries, all Moroccans fast, without question. And fasting is not only religiously mandated, but partially government enforced. I heard from hotel/restaurant owners that serving a Muslim during the day during Ramadan can “cause trouble” for them, and it was rumored that if a Muslim is found eating/drinking/smoking during Ramadan, they could be imprisoned or worse. While I never witnessed this firsthand, I heard the rumors.

While Ramadan may have been slightly inconvenient for me, as a tourist in Morocco, it felt like a special and different time to be in Morocco. Except for the cranky few, the Moroccans generally attempt to behave even more nicely and appropriately than usual, and the devotion not only to the religion, but also to the cultural customs and practices associated with the eid (holiday) was truly refreshing. In their attempts to recognize the difficulties of others and cleanse their spirits after a year, it seemed to me that the Moroccan Muslims were also trying to refocus their attention to the importance of family and tradition, and I believe that anyone, from any religious background, can recognize the importance and value in such a nationwide effort.

I would like to wish all my family and friends a Shana Tova U’metuka and a Happy and Healthy New Year!

Every year, Jews from all over the world travel to various Moroccan cities for hilouloth, celebrations commemorating tzadikim, or famous, wise Jewish scholars and Rabbis from the past. Dozens of these occur a year, and as part of my research on the history and culture of Jewish Moroccans, it was only natural for me to attend one. I was lucky that one such hiloulah, for Rabbi Chaim Pinto, was being held the weekend of September 18^th in Essaouira, in the south of Morocco. As his descendant, the great Rabbi David Pinto currently lives and works in France and has yeshivot and a devout following across the world. His organization Hevrat Pinto organizes the hiloulah every year.

Rabbi Pinto lived during the turn of the 18^th century, at a time when roughly half of Essaouira’s population was Jewish. He is famous as a “great rabbi and tzadik,” although the only additional details I attained about his life and his work was only through the internet (http://www.judaicaplus.com/Tzadikim/pinto.htm), rather than at the hiloulah itself. Some Jews (less than 50) still live in Essaouira; however, because I was busy with the weekend’s events, I did not have time to delve into the details of the community’s recent history or present situation. I did find out, though, that there is a synagogue open in the city now, but it rarely receives a minyan, even on Shabbat.

The weekend itself is held at a very nice hotel set aback from the medina and the main strip of hotels lining the beautiful beach in Essaouira. A gigantic tent is constructed in the parking lot, housing the dining area for the weekend for approximately 800-1000 people (my guess). Although it comes with a hefty price tag, all of the meals from Thursday evening through Sunday afternoon are catered by a kosher catering company based in Casablanca. Aside for meals, the schedule includes all of the daily prayers (conducted in a makeshift synagogue in one of the hotel’s banquet rooms), visits to Rabbi Pinto’s house and grave, study sessions with Rabbi David Pinto, and the actual hiloulah after Shabbat on Saturday night at his grave. The majority of the people in attendance are Jewish Moroccans that currently live in France, while Jewish Moroccans from Israel and Canada, and non-Moroccans from the US, Argentina, and Mexico (usually followers of Rabbi David) all make the journey to Morocco for the event.

As an outsider, never having experienced a hiloulah before, I certainly had no idea what I was getting myself into, and regrettably, I cannot say that now, after it is over, I really understand the hiloulah, with regards to its purpose, significance and meaning for the Jews that attended. The reasons are many: 1. all of the events, speeches, study sessions etc. were in French and were rarely translated for me by a nice woman who spoke some Hebrew, 2. everybody spoke French, making asking questions and receiving thoughtful answers difficult, and 3. never experiencing what seemed to me as saint worship in the past, I was in awe for much of the weekend. The latter became the subject that intrigued me most and caused me to be extremely skeptical, if not cynical, toward the entire cultural experience (side note- many will refer to this as a religious event; however, from my perspective religion was solely the background or the least-common-denominator for those in attendance, not the main attraction).

A description of the customs will elucidate my aforementioned attitude. The main events of the weekend seem to focus around the meals; Rabbi David made grand entrances during the dinners, complete with his Jewish “posse,” Moroccan government officials, and police serving as escorts. The governor of Essaouira was in attendance for 2 of the dinners, and during the first, gave a speech on behalf of the King, saying “This is the way it should always be between Muslims and Jews.” The many courses during each meal were punctuated by bouts of men chanting and singing praise toward Rabbi Chaim, Rabbi David and sometimes, toward G-d.

There were organized excursions during the day to Rabbi Pinto’s home and his gravesite, but it was the actual hiloulah celebration after dinner on Saturday night that was the main event. The hundreds of people in attendance piled into buses at about midnight and gathered outside the gate to the cemetery. Once Rabbi David arrived, we began to file in through the double doors to the cemetery; men entered first and remained on one side of the entrance-walkway of the cemetery and the women followed in afterward to their own side. Once everyone was inside, Rabbi David, followed by a mob of Jewish men screaming and singing the same chants as in the dinner tent, walked through the cemetery and into the “house” built to protect and commemorate his ancestor’s great tomb. As many men as could fit in this small building crammed inside and continued the jumping, screaming, and chanting for about an hour. The windows to the structure began to fog as the men jumped and shouted endlessly, without seeming to tire. Some men were even trying to jump inside or to simply catch a glimpse of the action through open windows. After two rounds of men filtered in and out of the building (about 2 am), the women were finally allowed to enter the building, and pay their respects to the man they revere so intensely.

The entire experience was definitely an interesting for me, in Jewish, cultural and academic respects. The singing and chanting during the weekend represents for me the lasting impression of the hiloulah itself; it was the physical demonstration of prayer and praise for the Rabbi, which seemed to be familiar to all of the people that attended. Therefore, one postulates that this particular type of worship was the means by which they transmit this cultural importance of the festival. One chant that rang through the tent and graveyard incessantly throughout the weekend was “Howaja,” which means in Arabic “He is coming.” After inquiring who the “he” is, most people answered “he” is Rabbi David, who represents his ancestor Rabbi Chaim, while some acknowledged “he” is the messiah, or G-d himself. The fact that this popular chant is in Arabic portrays the particularly Moroccan, more so than Jewish, nature of the festival. Other songs and chants were in either French or Hebrew and only one referenced G-d specifically: “The Holy Blessed One, we love you” (translated from Hebrew).

I, even as the descendant of Jewish Moroccans, felt like an outsider and that the traditions for the hiloulah were completely foreign to me. It was specifically the chanting that made me the most uncomfortable because I could not fight the feeling that it felt contrary to the Judaism I am accustomed to, and borderline un-Jewish The first Jewish story I remember learning in Hebrew school, after “G-d created the Earth in 6 days,” was about the founder of Judaism, Abraham. His father was a pagan and owned a shop that sold idols. As the story goes, G-d spoke to Abraham and told him that there is only one G-d so idol worship is a sin, and that he will begin the first monotheistic religion. In response, Abraham destroyed all of the idols in his father’s shop and Judaism was born. But an idol is not just a statue; the most observant Jews refuse to even hang up photographs of loved ones because they consider it a type of worship to something that is not G-d. With this Jewish teaching as one of the foundations of my faith, I was completely taken aback at how much the customs of the hiloulah resembled saint worship. Here were Jews, not merely paying their respects to an important tzadik, but actually praying to him and his descendant as if they were divine themselves. While I stood at the graveyard with all of the chanting in the background and the crying and praying men and women all around me, I could not conjure up any sort of spiritual emotion, as hard as I tried. At that moment I decided that the cultural boundaries were just too great for me to really share the spiritual emotions that the Moroccan Jews very clearly felt during the festival. And maybe, while it seems “un-Jewish” to me, for them this is just one more way to practice their Judaism. One Argentinean Ashkenazi Jew explained it best: “I am here because of Rabbi David, who showed me the great tzzadik Rabbi Chaim Pinto. And we pray to him because when we do, it brings us closer to G-d.”

One last story really drives the point of saint worship home. I met an Ashkenazi American Jew from New York City that established a relationship with Rabbi David a few years ago and has been attending the hiloulah for the last few years. A few years ago, a friend of his took a photograph of Rabbi David as he was lighting a candle for Rabbi Chaim’s memorial, and he was eager to show it to me. After seeking his friend out and showing it to me, the two men were beside themselves due to the eeriness of the photo; taken before the candle was actually lit, a glowing light surrounds the wick of the candle. They zoomed into the illuminated spot and pointed out what they thought was an image of Rabbi Chaim. Sure, it was pretty strange, but it probably was the result of the camera settings. However, they were convinced of the spiritual significance of this photo; that Rabbi David elicited the image of his ancestor without even lighting his own remembrance candle.

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Three other issues are worth mentioning. I inquired with skepticism on why people attended and celebrated the hiloulah, why they respected the rabbi, and what they actually knew about him. The reasons seemed to be twofold: 1. many of the attendees are followers or supporters of Rabbi David and were invited by him, or 2. it is something they have been doing with their families for years. Interestingly, while everyone I spoke to was quick to say that Rabbi Chaim was a “great rabbi,” no one seemed to really know what it is that he did during his life that made him so great. Therefore, I argue that this observance is more cultural and traditional than religious, partly because the real Jewish meaning or significance of Rabbi Chaim’s Jewish life has been lost or is unknown to the present generation. The other evidence for this argument is the aforementioned lack of prayer and focus on G-d.

Secondly, I was unhappy with the level of segregation between men and women throughout the weekend, with women always taking a backseat to the men. Even in the dinner tent, which resembled more a bar mitzvah party than a synagogue, men and women sat separately. This further reflects the specifically Moroccan cultural nature of the hiloulah, as such “seating segregation” is even common at Shabbat dinner tables.

The last feeling I could not fight over the course of the weekend was how commercial the venture seemed. Maybe it was the colorful and catchy flyer I saw online before the weekend, advertising a fixed discounted price, including airfare from France, transportation for the weekend, and food. But it got worse- I spent $200 on food for the weekend, which works out to over $20 a meal. I understand that kosher food is expensive, but I could not help but feel that someone was making money along the way. Furthermore, “special priveleges,” such as opening the door to Rabbi Pinto’s grave’s building, were auctioned off during the dinner on Saturday night, whle Jewish vendors also brought their goods to sell throughout the weekend. These examples only added to my suspicions of the commercial nature of the event.

At least the food was good.