My grandfather, with his sisters and parents |
God minted
every person with the stamp of Adam
And not one of them is the same as his fellow
For this reason every single person must say
The world was created for me
And not one of them is the same as his fellow
For this reason every single person must say
The world was created for me
Talmud
Bavli, Sanhedrin 37B
This is the
world that was created for me- I was born a white Jewish girl in Cape
Town. I have my birth certificate, some
photos and memories to prove it.
I have
memories of drinking wine, singing and reciting from the Hagadah at Seders with
my family twice a year at the festival of Passover, the celebration of the
liberation from Egypt 3000 years ago.
The story
starts with "This is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in the land
of Egypt. Let all who are hungry come and eat."
We end with
a song called Chad Gadya.
When I look
at the familiar Hagadah now, I am shocked to discover that all along I was
learning Talmud and singing in Aramaic.
In my head
are messages, memories, and beliefs that have been passed down to me, and I
didn’t even see it happening.
This is a photo of my grandfather’s father, Harris Rosenberg. Records show, he immigrated to South Africa from Suwalki, Lithuania in 1873.
According to his tombstone, his Hebrew name is Tsvi Hirsch ben Kalonymus.
I know less
and less the further back I go.
I can see my grandfather’s grandfather’s father’s birth certificate online – His name was Kalman Rosenberg. His father’s name is registered as Nochim.
I can see my grandfather’s grandfather’s father’s birth certificate online – His name was Kalman Rosenberg. His father’s name is registered as Nochim.
That’s as far back as I can prove but I can imagine twice a year at the Pesach Seder my
grandfather’s grandfathers grandfather, Nochim Rosenberg said the following
words:
"This
is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who
are hungry come and eat."
And the
children drank wine and sang Chad Gadya.
But I can’t
prove anything, except that that all my ancestors stayed alive long enough to
procreate and passed on their values, memories and traditions to their
children.
Like it or
not, this is my story.
This is what
is bred to my bone.