Shaffaf reproduces the following article of The Wall Street Journal as a tribute to the Arab Jews- still present in their Arab lands, or still attached to their countries of origin even when they had to emigrate to nearby, or far away
Shaffaf reproduces the following article of The Wall Street Journal as a tribute to the Arab Jews- still present in their Arab lands, or still attached to their countries of origin even when they had to emigrate to nearby, or far away, countries. With a special thought to yemeni Jews, whose origins date back to long before Islam and who have been, recently, uprooted by the Houthis.
Also, as a tribute to the courageous Jewish women of Djerba who are striving to bring their community out of its pre-napoleonic condition.
DJERBA, Tunisia—By the hundreds, they gathered for a pre-wedding party on a resort island in Tunisia. Here, in the heart of the Muslim world, the crowds were speaking Arabic. The band was Arab too, playing boisterous Arabic melodies.
But the revelers were Orthodox Jews—as devout as they come.
Per custom, the bride-to-be, Oshrit Uzan, had quit her job running her own beauty salon to prepare for her new life. She might return to work, she mused, but her husband must approve: “I will need permission,” she said.
Isolated on a small niche of North Africa’s largest island, the Jews of Djerba have been called the last Arab Jews—and it is hardly an exaggeration. Across the rest of the Middle East, Jewish communities have been vanishing over the past half century, since the creation of Israel. Before then, there were more than 850,000 Jews living in the Arab world. Today, there are between 4,000 to 4,500, according to Justice for Jews from Arab Countries, a nonprofit advocacy group.
Some countries, such as Algeria and Libya, which once had sizable Jewish populations, have virtually no Jews within their borders. Egypt, which through the late 1940s had 75,000 Jews active in the country’s economic and social life, is down to a few dozen. Only Morocco, once home to 265,000 Jews, has a community of 2,500 left. Many are elderly or middle-aged.
As other Tunisian Jews moved away to Israel and France for fear of persecution, the Jews of Djerba stubbornly clung to the promise of their own future. A community that had dwindled to fewer than 700 Jews by the mid-1990s—from a high of about 5,000 in 1948—began to grow slowly but surely. While there were and still are departures, they are outweighed by the young families choosing to stay. Today, the island’s Jews number roughly 1,000, local leaders estimate.
Arab countries have seen their Jewish populations dramatically decrease since 1948
Mounting concerns about anti-Semitism in France—which culminated recently in the massacre of several Jews in a Parisian kosher market—underscore what the Chief Rabbi of Tunisia has been saying for years: That no place is safer or more hospitable for Jews.
“The Jews of Djerba are concentrated in one area, so the government is able to protect us,” says Haim Bittan, the Chief Rabbi. A resident of Djerba, Rabbi Bittan also believes that the community’s deep spirituality offers it protection. “We have faith in God, that if we keep his laws and commandments, he will guard us from evil,” he says.
The central government in Tunis has long seen value in having a stable Jewish population. Even after the 2011 revolution ousted longtime President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali —the first casualty of the Arab Spring—the new leaders sought to assure Tunisian Jews that they were safe.
Djerba has enjoyed a lucrative tourist industry and Tunisia has been keen to preserve it by stressing its tolerance and moderation. Having a sizable Jewish community is key in that goal.
Djerban Jewish leaders are concerned about assimilation, so contacts with the 150,000 Muslims on the island are limited. Clustered in the Hara Kebira, the main Jewish quarter, they speak Arabic as well as Hebrew; a few speak French.
Relations between Jews and Muslims are complex—proper and respectful, though not especially close. Jewish men work alongside Arab merchants in the souk, for example, and enjoy amiable ties with Muslim customers.
With its low-lying houses and narrow, unpaved streets, the Hara Kebira is modest. While not walled in, it is insular and self-contained. Little boys run around in skullcaps; women wear long skirts, and scarves, in the manner of Orthodox Jews. And there are over a dozen working synagogues. Many men make a living both making and selling jewelry.
In 2002, an al Qaeda affiliate sent a truck bomb loaded with explosives to attack the legendary Ghriba synagogue, located in the Hara Sgira, the smaller of Djerba’s two Jewish quarters. Nearly two dozen people were killed, most of them German tourists, and many more were wounded. The government beefed up security in response. Only last spring, two Jewish merchants were stabbed by Muslim assailants. Although local authorities said the attacks weren’t motivated by religion, the violence still made the community anxious.
Over the longer term, the greatest threat to Djerba’s Jews may come, not from without, but from within. Jews have lived on this storied island for centuries and, some believe, since Biblical times. Ancient traditions guide every aspect of Dje