Few Bukharan Jews Remain in Central Asian Land
By Alanna E. Cooper for The Jewish Daily Forward
As
the sun set over Bukhara, Uzbekistan on a recent Friday evening, I
joined the local community in welcoming the Sabbath. This was my first
time back to the historic spot on the Silk Road since I first visited in
the 1990s. At that time, Uzbekistan had just gained independence in the
wake of the Soviet Union’s dissolution, and the country’s 35,000 local
Jews were migrating en masse to the United States and Israel. I was a
doctoral student in cultural anthropology, witnessing the end of one of
the world’s longest chapters in Diaspora history.Today, 15 years since my last visit, an estimated 70 Jews remain in Bukhara. The city’s synagogue is still able to draw a minyan on Friday evenings, but just barely. Listening to the worshippers’ soulful prayers drift across the synagogue courtyard, I wondered who would come to occupy this space in the future.
Historians conjecture that Jews arrived in Central Asia along trade routes in the years following the Babylonian Exile more than 2,000 years ago. When they are all gone, will any physical signs remain to mark the memory of the vibrant, ancient community that once was?
Perhaps Akbar House — a tourist destination in Bukhara’s old Jewish quarter — serves as a premonition of what is to come.
I had visited Akbar House in 1997 at the suggestion of a friend. Back then, the home did not have a sign, let alone a name. My friend, who was born and raised in Bukhara, knew I was looking for souvenirs to bring back home to the United States and suggested I visit Mastura and her husband Akbar, who might have something appropriate for sale. I walked through the winding alleys of the mahallah (neighborhood) to their house so I might see their merchandise.
In those days, the couple was among the growing number of Muslims who had bought houses in the neighborhood as the Jews were emptying out. Why they chose to move there, I do not know. Mastura showed me traditional jewelry, hair adornments, amulets, and artifacts used by the region’s nomadic peoples.
Casually, and offering a very soft sell, she explained that the pieces were valuable antiques collected from many local peoples. I was a student with little disposable income and I left without purchasing anything. The event was unremarkable, and I forgot about Mastura and her husband altogether until my recent return to Bukhara this past October.
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Well,
my children have adjusted great to Israel. I, on the other hand, have
adjusted about as well as my mother says I adjusted to daylight savings
as a baby which is to say horribly. My “worst case scenario” for them
for the first night actually became my own worst case scenario, with me
sleeping only a few hours before darting awake, unable to sleep and
armed with the energy to take a jog or make a cake, neither of which I
can do in the kibbutz apartment I am in. My boys snored quietly and
rhythmically in a cold room, warm under blankets and content in their
dreamy homeland.
Why
has one building in Crown Heights, Brooklyn been painstakingly
recreated all over the world, from São Paulo to Melbourne, Los Angeles
to Milan? Because the building,
Most
people picture T.E. Lawrence as the dashing leader dressed in white and
gold Arab robes portrayed by Peter O’Toole in the 1962 film Lawrence of
Arabia. While the real Lawrence was not exactly like the character in
the David Lean film—he never deliberately burned his finger with a match
or said he enjoyed killing people, for instance—he was, nevertheless,
one of the most colorful figures to emerge from World War I.