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IN-DEPTH FEATURES
This series recounts the trials and tribulations of the
Jews of Bukhara, from the perspective of Shulamit Tilayov, a
Jerusalem-born woman who spent twenty years of her youth in
Bukhara. At the age of four she returned to Bukhara with her
parents for a "short stay," but due to the Bolshevik
Revolution and World War I, their visit turned into a two-
decade sojourn. Mrs. Tilayov's memories paint a picture of
Bukhara's splendor and the tremendous mesirus nefesh
required to observe Torah and mitzvos under the Communist
regime. Through a series of miracles, she had the merit to
return to the Holy City and to Shechunat HaBukharim, the
neighborhood her grandfather, Rav Shimon Chacham, helped
establish years earlier.
Part III recounted the Tilayovs' and another family's
efforts to keep mitzvos in hiding in Bukhara, risking their
lives to cling to the Jewish faith. The sidebars included a
harrowing account by the head of a talmud Torah who
withstood terrible interrogations and torture, and the rare
hachnosas orchim extended to World War II refugees
under dire conditions.
Part IV described worsening hardships the Tilayov family
faced, which led to their decision to cross the border into
Afghanistan illegally. Following Yitzchak's successful
passage, Shulamit remains alone with their children, planning
her escape. While trying to cross she is caught by soldiers
and taken into custody. She was caught carrying illegal gold
coins, and was to be tried. She decided to try again to flee,
but her group was to leave exactly on the Friday of her
trial. Realizing that if she would not show up they would
begin searching for her immediately, making it even harder to
flee, she decided to send her children ahead and catch up
with them on motzei Shabbos. It was a difficult,
tearful parting that Friday morning.
In Part V, Mrs. Tilayov finally crosses over the border
into Afghanistan, overcoming hardships and narrowly escaping
danger be'ezer Hashem. In Afghanistan her troubles
continue. After reuniting with her husband, the authorities
threaten to send him to Russia along with all of the other
men who crossed the border illegally. Only through urgent
international efforts by Bukharan-Jewish communities in the
West are the refugee families granted entry visas to Eretz
Yisroel, then under British mandate. The year-long journey by
horseback, buses, boat and train takes them through seven
countries.
After they had gone on their way I remained home alone,
reading Tehillim with a broken heart nearly until the
time of the trial. I especially concentrated on the verse,
"Ya'ancho Hashem beyom tzoroh, yesagevcho sheim Elokei
Yaakov," which reflected my situation.
I arrived at the GPO office early and waited. At exactly
10:00 a.m. I was called into the judges' chambers and found
myself standing before high-ranking GPO officials.
On the table lay the articles found with me and now silently
condemning me. Armed guards stood to the left and right of me
as if I could escape. I sat on the chair facing the judges'
table and they began to interrogate me.
First they asked me why my husband had fled the country with
his parents and other relatives. I could see there was no
sense in trying to hide anything, so I replied that this was
what the family had decided. Then they asked why I wanted to
flee with my children. I answered that it was not because I
was unhappy in my motherland, but because I had been born in
Jerusalem and I wanted to go back. (Among my confiscated
possessions they had found my birth certificate which my
mother had sent from Jerusalem.) I explained that my mother
lived there and I wanted to see her and to benefit from her
help.
I did not realize that by mentioning Jerusalem I was raising
the judges' wrath, for they had been irate over the notebook
they found among my possessions containing handwritten poems
about Jerusalem that I had written while in school. They
sentenced me to a fine of twice the value of the gold coins
found with me when I was arrested.
Informing me that I could expect to receive a jail term for
the other indictments and that my children would be sent to a
government institution, they then asked if I had legal
counsel. Their severe statements and harsh demeanor filled me
with fear. I told them I could not afford to hire an
attorney.
They handed me a sheet of paper to sign. I asked what was
written on it and they explained that signing would obligate
me to work for the authorities, perhaps as an agent (i.e.
informing against other citizens) and, if I signed, they were
authorized to suspend the sentence for a trial period. I
refused to sign. An argument ensued in which they threatened
to send me to Siberia and to place my children in an
institution in a city far away and I would not even know
where they are.
I did not know what to do and felt very confused, but at that
very moment salvation came from Above. All of a sudden a
great disturbance took place in the courtyard and everyone
left to see what had happened. A distinguished government
worker had been caught crossing the border in a government
vehicle after embezzling a large sum of money from public
funds. Expected to receive a heavy sentence, he became the
center of attention and the judges postponed my trial for 24
hours, which meant until Sunday morning.
I saw this as an auspicious sign from Heaven. Hashem was
guiding my path, for the delay would allow me to set off on
my way on motzei Shabbos as I had arranged with the
head guide, without my absence being detected until at least
midday Sunday. By then, G-d willing, I would already be at
the border.
On motzei Shabbos at 8:00 I set out together with my
landlady, who had become a close friend of mine. To avoid
attracting attention I carried only a small purse with a bit
of money. We looked like two acquaintances out for a stroll.
It took six hours to arrive at the meeting point where the
horses waited with my fellow travelers. I bid my landlady
farewell and placed a gold coin in the palm of her hand.
The horses were laden with heavy sacks filled with jewelry
and other valuables smuggled from Bukhara, as well as bread
and water for the journey. The women sat on the back of the
horses with small children between each mother and the rider.
Each of these threesomes was securely tied with a huge, thick
cloth band and our feet were placed in stirrups so we could
hold on in case the horses began to gallop. Thus we set out
on the difficult journey from Russia to Afghanistan.
After about two hours of riding, suddenly some soldiers
caught sight of us and began to shoot in our direction. The
frightened horses bolted into a wild gallop, running in every
direction. The soldiers did not overtake us and the riders re-
banded, once again forming a single file, which seems to be
how they were trained to walk.
The experienced guides would halt periodically either to rest
or eat and drink. Continuing on our way we crossed the border
unharmed. We rode for 27 hours straight until we reached the
first town inside Afghanistan.
A huge expanse of desert stretches between the two countries.
We did not see a single tree or bush or even a small sprig.
The sun beat down on our heads throughout the day (it was
then August 1933). Our seasoned guides navigated according to
the soil type. From time to time they would dismount, dig
into the ground, smell the earth and set our course
accordingly. At night they used the stars to guide us. With a
glad heart I thanked Hashem for bringing us safely.
*
Upon our arrival in Afghanistan we left our fears of the
Russians behind but here, too, we could expect to be arrested
if caught, for we had crossed the border illegally. In
addition we faced the threat of attack by highway bandits
lying in wait in the no-man's-land near the border to rob
fugitives and kill them so there would be nobody left to bear
witness. We were still very tense and alert. The guides
checked to see whether we were still well-tied and warned us
that if the children were to cry it could endanger all of
us.
On the second night, already on the Afghani side of the
border, we heard dogs and grew frightened. We knew robbers
trained their dogs to detect the scent of horses and people
in order to track down convoys. The guides seemed nervous and
spurred the horses into a fast gallop after warning us that
if any of the children fell while they made their run they
would not stop. We were very afraid for the children, and
while the horses ran I prayed in my heart we would arrive
safely.
In the morning we arrived at a place of settlement and were
brought to a lone house at the edge of the village. We were
unable to move our arms or legs following the protracted
ride. Our legs were swollen and paralyzed from disuse. Only
now did I see my daughter's face and I almost passed out. Her
forehead was swollen and covered with dried blood because she
had been whipped all along the way by the rider's rough coat.
Despite the pain she had not cried or opened her mouth
throughout the journey.
After we had rested, a breakfast of milk and fruit was
brought to us. The guides asked each of us to write letters
to our respective families in Anchoi and forced us to promise
outrageous sums for transporting us. Although we had already
paid a large portion of the money in advance while in Karaki
they said they would bring us on to Anchoi only after
receiving their pay. With no other option we acquiesced and,
in the end, they received the fees they had demanded.
On Erev Rosh Hashanah 5794 (1933) we finally rejoined our
respective families who had been waiting anxiously for so
long.
In Afghanistan other misfortune awaited us. Lacking transit
documents, all of the men were arrested and the authorities
threatened to send them back to Russia. Afghanistan was under
British control at the time and the Bukharan Jewish
committees throughout the West initiated emergency actions to
reverse the terrible decree, concentrating efforts on
lobbying the British to grant the detainees permits to
immigrate to Eretz Yisroel. The feverish activity was
centered in Kabul but took place in Jerusalem, London and the
US as well.
The race was won by Rav Eliyahu Yissachar-Kahn, president of
the Bukharan Jewish community in London, who made the trip to
Afghanistan to try to secure their release. He even met with
the king of Afghanistan, Nadir Khan, asking him to grant
Bukharan refugees a 6- 12-month stay in his country, during
which immigration permits for Palestine would arrive. He
agreed and thus we were able to remain in Kabul for several
months.
Since there were numerous families, together we rented a
house with a large courtyard and divided the rooms. Yitzchak
had already sent a letter to my mother in Jerusalem asking
her to act on our behalf to lobby the British authorities for
immigration permits. Although it took time, she eventually
succeeded. After an eight- month stay in Kabul we were
informed that our immigration permits had been approved and
we could set out on our way.
Some 1,500 Bukharan Jews--10 percent of the country's total
Jewish population--had immigrated to Palestine of their own
free will by the time World War I broke out. From 1880,
following the Russian pogrom against Odessa Jews, until 1914
three million Jews emigrated from Russia, 30,000 of whom came
to Palestine on aliyah, including some 1,500 Bukharan Jews.
During the two recent waves of aliyah of Bukharan Jews,
starting in 1972 and 1991 respectively, 130,000 immigrants
arrived from Bukhara.
Home Again!
In 5694 (1934) we finally had the merit to arrive in
Jerusalem following many hardships we met during our long,
circuitous route. Along the way our two children contracted
various childhood illnesses that were difficult to cope
with.
Toting all our baggage we passed through seven countries:
Russia, Afghanistan, India, Pakistan, Iraq, Syria and
Lebanon. The journey, by horseback, bus, boat and train,
lasted an entire year. To cover our expenses we would
periodically sell diamond and gold rings we had smuggled into
Afghanistan.
Following 23 years of exile in Bukhara I returned to the Holy
City. I was filled with overwhelming excitement when I once
again saw the streets and houses I remembered as if in a
dream. When we got off the bus at the old Egged station on
Jaffa Street I got down on my knees and kissed the ground as
tears streamed from my eyes.
Now I was returning to see my dear mother, who had been so
sorely missing from my life during our years of separation.
She was living in Nachalat Shiva in a house Grandfather had
bought her. The house was next to the home of the Baba-Khan
family and opposite Beit Knesset Istanbuli. I, too, had been
born in this house.
Now, upon my return, she told me that Grandfather had
contributed much toward establishing the Bukharan community
in Jerusalem. He had been one of the seven founders of
Shechunat HaBukharim (originally known as Rechovot). The
other founders were Rav Yaakov Meir, Rav Yosef Cojehin Cohen,
Rav Shlomo Mussa, R' Yissah Chaim Chafetz, R' Chaim Moshiach,
R' Faizi Ben Moshe -- in addition to my grandfather, R'
Shimon Chacham.
Construction began in 1891 and it was the most stately
neighborhood in Eretz Yisroel--European architecture in Asian
and Mediterranean styles, with Byzantine and Russian touches.
The neighborhood included 18 botei knesses and two
mikvo'os, all from money raised among the Bukharans in
Palestine.
Although Grandfather was among the original founders of
Shechunat HaBukharim he refused to purchase a lot in the
neighborhood saying he preferred to remain in the Old City,
close to the remnants of Beis Hamikdosh. But his close friend
R' Yaakov Mahavshov, who had been his business partner in
commercial enterprises back in Bukhara, purchased a lot on
the main street of the neighborhood and entreated Grandfather
to buy half a lot for his only son. R' Pinchas was engaged
and Grandfather agreed to buy his son the half lot.
R' Yaakov Mahavshov built on his half and R' Shimon built a
house on the other half as a wedding gift for his dear son.
He even ordered wall paintings for the guest room in
accordance with the Jewish custom in Bukhara, who would
string together verses and phrases such as Bruchim
Habo'im and Ben poras Yosef ben poras alei ayin
along the edge of the ceiling.
Sadly, a harsh decree befell my grandfather when my uncle, R'
Pinchas, passed away suddenly during his first year of
marriage. My grandfather said he would not even be able to
step into the house. He offered to sell it to R' Yaakov but
his friend refused saying, "R' Shimon Chacham's son passes
away and I should buy the house? Chas vesholom! I
won't even live in my own house standing on the same
property."
R' Yaakov then sold his lot as well and bought another one
where he built a new house. This was the tragic reason why
none of my family ever settled in Shechunat HaBukharim.
Following my arrival in Palsetine we lived with my mother,
where we took in Jerusalem's splendid atmosphere and heard
much about the contributions my grandfather-- among the
founders of Shechunat HaBukharim--made toward building the
city. Eventually our stay in Jerusalem came to an end.
Upon their arrival in Palestine many of the Bukharan
immigrants settled in Jerusalem, and after a relatively short
period moved to other cities to make a living.
In 1934 we moved to Jaffa because rent was inexpensive there.
My husband Yitzchak worked at various odd jobs and I worked
in a matzo factory. In 1936 the Arabs began a series of
attacks, killing and injuring many Jaffa Jews. On the first
day of the unrest we fled for Tel Aviv, leaving everything in
the apartment, which the Arabs plundered. Empty-handed, we
had no choice other than to sell the diamond rings we had
brought from Bukhara, and even had to borrow money to rent a
room in Tel Aviv. It was a difficult and tense period, but we
were happy to be in Eretz Hakodesh.
Over the years, we adjusted to life in Israel, but my
husband's parents and their five children remained in Kabul
where they had been living ever since their escape from
Bukhara. We began concerted efforts to secure entry visas for
them. We hired an attorney and after two years and
considerable expense his parents finally arrived in Israel
with the help of the Bukharan Community Committee via The
Jewish Agency. Thus both sides of the family were reunited in
Eretz Hakodesh.
Epilogue
This concludes our series on Mrs. Shulamit Tilayov, the
mesirus nefesh of Bukharan Jewry and the courage they
showed in the face of tremendous obstacles. Today many
members of this important community in Am Yisroel are
struggling to adapt to life in Israel. May Hashem grant them
success in the adjustment process, helping them retain their
identity as shomrei Torah umitzvos who hold fast to
their unique heritage.
Shulamit later became a leading activist in the Bukharan
Jewish community, organizing fundraising drives both in
Israel and abroad. In 1972 she joined an organization called
Brit Yotzei Bukhara BeYisrael, which focuses on youth
education and immigrant absorption. She founded the Hachnosas
Kallah and Matan Beseter funds and worked for Or HaChaim in
Bnei Brak, providing scholarships for needy girls there.
As a member of the Committee of Women Volunteers she worked
to support the yeshivos kedoshos and lomdei
Torah from the Bukharan community, helping
talmidim cover expenses, providing salaries for
rabbonim and yeshiva workers, organizing wedding grants for
avreichim as well as holiday grants for the wives of
avreichim and for yeshiva workers, supporting the
yeshiva's book collection and channeling thousands more in
donations to yeshivos and lomdei Torah.
Every year she gave ten grants of 1,500 liras each to
avreichim in memory of her youngest child, Moshe
Shimon z'l, who was killed in a car accident at a
young age and dedicated numerous other contributions to
yeshivos to his memory. Today she lives in a retirement home
in Tel Aviv.
"There have been several major waves of immigration of
Bukharan Jews," says Shoshannah Ron, director of Brit Yotzei
Bukhara. "The one at the end of the 19th century was an
affluent aliyah that set up Shechunat HaBukharim in Jerusalem
and included many philanthropists who set up hekdeshim
for the community and helped stimulate Jerusalem's economy
during those years. The second aliyah was in the 1930s; these
immigrants managed well on their own and their children
achieved considerable success, boruch Hashem.
"Recent aliyah is divided into two waves. The first came in
the 70s and was absorbed with the help of the Brit quite
nicely, while the waves of immigration during the 90s were
characterized by immigrants facing crises, difficulties and
an inability to adjust suitably in Israel.
"Brit Yotzei Bukhara came to the aid of the new immigrants.
We provided their children enrichment programs and also work
hard to prevent their young children and adolescents from
dropping out of the school system. Before the holidays we
hand out food packages, and run social activities in order to
preserve the community's history and heritage."
For thirty years the Pozailov brothers, Ben Tzion and
Pinchas, who had great success in Israel in the diamond and
jewelry trade, have been supporting Brit Yotzei Bukhara and
maintaining it financially.
"It was during the Stalin era in the Soviet Union," recounts
Rina Aharonov. "Some Bukharan families -- we were among them
-- were daring enough to journey to Palestine, taking along a
two-year-old baby, over a harrowing route full of
pitfalls.
"Our escape was difficult. We set out from the city of
Ashchavad, located on the border between Turkmenistan and
Persia and with the help of Kurdish guides we walked for four
nights. By day we would hide. At the end of the march, hungry
and thirsty, we reached Persian territory [years before
Ayatollah Khomeini rose to power in Iran] exhausted and fell
asleep in the first cave we came across.
"Just before daybreak we woke to the voices of robbers
ordering us to put our hands in the air. Our pleas were in
vain and all of our property was stolen. Before we had
recovered from the robbery, Persian policemen accosted us,
claiming we were Soviet spies. They wanted to return us to
the Soviet Union. Kind Jews living in the area came to our
rescue and we managed to free ourselves from the
gezeiroh of the Persian police as well, surviving in
Persia as refugees.
"We arrived in the capital of Persia, Teheran, got settled
and even succeeded in business. My husband, a shoe designer,
was very successful. The Persian Jews who helped us suggested
we settle in Persia for a few years to save up money to
replace what was stolen from us, and then continue on our way
to Eretz Yisroel. We refused. We did not want to remain in a
foreign land any longer.
"Six months later we sailed from the Persian Gulf to Eretz
Yisroel, following `a well-trod path,' which included a one-
month stay in India. From there, via the Suez Canal, we
arrived in Palestine then under mandate control. After an
exhausting one-year journey we began our lives in Eretz
Yisroel from scratch."
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