Personal Stories

Personal Stories

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    Maurice Shohet Maurice Shohet
     
     
    Maurice Shohet
    (Iraq)
    “We had an opportunity to throw a last glance back at the country where we had grown up and lived. Thoughts welled up in my mind about the country we were about to leave behind. We had loved Iraq more than many Iraqis do. I recalled the memories of the land of the Tigris and the Euphrates. As in a movie, I saw pictures passing through my mind, of the school where I had grown, of the synagogues where I prayed, and of the tombs of the prophets where I visited.
    I thought about the descendants of the ancient Iraqi Jewish community that dated back to the time of the Babylonian Empire, and the end that had befallen the Jewish community in this Arab country after the State of Israel was established. I thought of the miserable Jews on whom Iraq had vented its wrath after being shamed, when its army shared defeat together with other Arab armies during the Six Day War.“
     
     

    Regina Bublil Waldmam
    (Libya, 1967)
    Regina Bublil Waldman“When the Six-Day-War broke out between Israel and its Arab neighbors, I was 19 years old. My mother called me at work to tell me that thousands of people had taken to the streets rioting and burning Jewish properties. She begged me to find a hiding place, because it was too dangerous for me to return home. One of the British engineers in the company agreed to hide me in his home. Incidentally, he was Christian. From my hiding place, I watched the fires consume my father's warehouse. Killing people, rampaging and burning Jewish properties went on for days.
    I lived in hiding for a month before returning home. All Jews were expelled and their property, including their bank accounts, were expropriated by the government. We were only allowed to take a few suitcases and very little money.
    The day we left, armed soldiers put us on a truck to escort us “safely” to the airport. Instead, they dumped us on the side of the road. We boarded an airport bus, which then stopped in the middle of the desert. The driver said that there was engine trouble and the conductor allegedly went to get help and left us alone, once again. I looked to my father for support, but he was frozen in horror. I darted off the bus and ran to find help. As I ran my whole body shook with fear, but anger drove me forward. When I reached the gas station, the conductor was holding the phone. After struggling with him, I snatched the phone out of his hand and called the British engineer who had hidden me. I turned to leave but now, the door was blocked by three men, including the conductor. I was petrified. My throat tightened. My heart was pounding. I forced my way through the door and ran back to the bus.
    Gasoline was everywhere, the driver held a box of matches in his hand. The plan was to burn the bus with my family in it. Just then, the British engineer drove up. My family jumped into his car and we sped off to the airport. Upon arrival, the porters refused to load our luggage and spit on us. Our flight took us to Rome, Italy, where my family still lives."
     
    Gina Bublil Waldman, 1960, in Purim costume
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