Esther & Yahiel
A Love Story
Esther
and Yachiel are my maternal grandparents. My mother used to tell us a little
about their lives, especially about the reciprocal love with her father, who
used to
carry her on his shoulders while touring the seaside of Izmir.
What
follows is the fruit of my imagination
The
story begins at the time of the Spanish Inquisition, fisherman from one of the
Greek island called Ikaria or Icare discover a group of men, women and children
dressed in rags early morning in freezing cold. A ghost ship sails towards the
horizon
The
fishermen and the refugees look at each other, they speak different languages,
the newcomers hold out their hands, the others help and direct them towards the
village. They carry few belongings, a few cooking utensils, chandeliers, few
jewels which are family heirlooms, a few prayer books, basics of life while
running away towards this island which is part of the Ottoman Empire.
This
is how my family’s saga starts.
A new community is
born on the island. The locals Greek Orthodox, the newcomers Sephardi Jews.
The head of the
newcomers is Abraham, tall and white haired with piercing green eyes. He
abandoned his fragile hearted wife Rebecca into the deep Mediterranean Sea
while murmuring the Kaddish.
Life takes shape
slowly. Spanish language adopts Greek words, Shabbat candles and Sundays at
church are both respected. A community arise, poor but proud.
At the village school
Greek is studied, at home the father reads the Torah.
Towards the end of the
18th Century, Moche, one of Abraham’s descendants marries Mary. They have two
sons, Yachiel and Abraham. Yachiel , the eldest, is fire like red haired with
piercing green eyes like his ancestor, different races fighting within his
body. His mother crosses herself, his father prays in a language he doesn’t recognize.
He suffocates on this
island. At 15 he works at the bakery, he loves the scent of bread, his eyes set
on the horizon, he would like to escape. Abraham, the young one, is docile and
helps his father at the carpentry shop.
One moonless night he
packs a few belongings and some bread and walks towards the port.
He walks around and boards discretely one of the Ottoman Empire’s boat.
Hidden in a dark corner, emotions and sleep soon carry him a away.
A kick in the groin,
shouts wake him at sunrise, fear grips his insides, tears blur his
vision. The
Turkish soldier grabs his ear and pulls him up.
The soldiers observe
him, talk to him, make fun of his red hair. He already misses his island. They
bring him some bread and bitter black coffee. They seem rather nice.
At night the boat
approaches a port, during a moment of confusion, he manages to disembark. He
walks the dark streets for a long time and finally falls asleep near a bakery’s
door.
Izmir. He has arrived at his destination.
Esther is 15, only daughter of a Sephardi family living in a village
near Izmir. Ester is beautiful, tall for a woman of that times, with huge blue
eyes and rebellious corn coloured hair.
These are times when
sweet and docile women are loved.
Esther has a fierce
temperament, she is impulsive, hardworking, demanding of herself and her
entourage, she is not easy to live with, her parents think she will never be
able to find a husband.
She has fights with
her mother about everything, their personalities being exactly the same.
Often she joins her
father to Izmir’s market to get away from home and enjoy some quality time with
the father she adores.
The market makes her
feel alive, the scents, colours, the merchants loud calls are all a feast or
her, the smell of homemade food cooked by the villagers are tempting but she
would never dare to eat non-kosher near her dad.
Most of all she likes to observe the handsome young man working the bread
dough that baked fills the bakery with delicious aroma. He doesn’t look at her.
That day, the last
customer is at the bakery, he looks up for the first time on losses himself in the
blue of her eyes, it’s the lightening, it’s the end of the world, the moon
changes its course, the stars clash.
Speedy wedding, 3
kids, 2 boys and my mother Rebecca.
They move to Izmir, working at the bakery. At
night Rebecca snuggles in his arms and breathes in the smell of the pastries he
bakes.
He dies of Peritonitis
at the age of 32, Ester will wear her mourning clothes until her last days.
My mother Rebecca with
the huge blue eyes and I who imagine...
