My grandfather's exodus - part 10

The last in a series of ten blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929). You'll find the first part here. This is the final part, where Lova tells about his first few years after arriving in Israel.

My grandfather's exodus - part 9

The ninth in a series of blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929). You'll find the first part here. In this part, Lova wanders about on his own in the dark, trying to find his way across the border to Metulla.

My grandfather's exodus - part 8

The eighth in a series of blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929). You'll find the first part here. In this part, Lova finds a man who claims he can help him steal the border... and gives it a try, together with an unknown teenage boy met in the streets of Beirut.

My grandfather's exodus - part 7

The seventh in a series of blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929). You'll find the first part here. In this part, Lova tells about his arrival in Beirut, and how he scares the daylight out of the contact he was given there.

The Friend Ship

Here’s another one of my singable translations of the great French singer-songwriter, Georges Brassens, into English. This time it’s Les Copains d'abord: a pun in French meaning both “friends on board” and “friends first”. I tried to keep the spirit of the pun by translating it as The Friend Ship. The French original, written for the movie Les copains (1964), is probably Brassens’ most recognisable song - the movie has long been forgotten, but the song lingers on, and even most teenagers will recognise it, albeit vaguely. It is sung at almost every family gathering with my French in-laws. Needless to say, the song is about friendship, and about a boat with the same name as the song title.

My grandfather's exodus - part 6

The sixth in a series of blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929). You'll find the first part here. In this part, Lova crosses the border into Syria, then under French control, and is thrown straight away back into jail, where he has an unpleasant experience.

My grandfather's exodus - part 5

The fifth in a series of blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929). You'll find the first part here. In this part, Lova escapes from exile, where he was sent by the Turkish government, and tries to continue by foot all the way to Syria.

Christ stopped at Eboli

An Italian friend heard that I liked Primo Levi, and asked me, had I read any works by Primo’s cousin, Carlo Levi? I hadn’t? Mama mia, it’s really worth the read! So when I finally found one of Carlo Levi’s books, Christ stopped at Eboli, on the shelf of a second-hand bookshop, I didn’t hesitate.
The truth is that there’s no family relationship between Primo and Carlo Levi, apart from the fairly likely descendance from the same biblical tribe.

My grandfather's exodus - part 4

The fourth in a series of blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929). You'll find the first part here. In this part, Lova is in jail, without any money or any food, so he thinks up a nice trick for getting some food to eat. Little by little, he gets to know his jailers and fellow prisoners. But when the order comes to send him back to Russia, he loses his temper...

My grandfather's exodus - part 3

The third in a series of blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929). You'll find the first part here. In this part, Lova crosses the border into Turkey, and immediately goes to the local police to declare himself, so as to avoid being accused of spying.

The Lousy Reputation

A German teenager once told me at a picnic that, ever since “what happened during the war”, it would be considered indecent to hang a German flag out in front of your house in Germany. François Hollande tried to encourage this sort of in-your-face patriotism in France after the terrorist attacks on November 13th, 2015, asking the French to hang a red-white-and-blue flag out their window in homage to the victims. But I too am allergic to flag-waving, and I'm relieved that almost nobody in our neighborhood followed his advice. I can understand loving a culture, a language, a landscape, the music, food or architecture of a place. But to me a flag represents none of the above - it represents a state and a governing structure: necessary perhaps as protectors of your person and property and as providers of public services, but too often responsible for a host of evil acts as well. So, in honour of the star spangled 4th of July, I’ll spangle my web page with notes and letters from another one of my singable English translations of the great French singer-songwriter, Georges Brassens: La Mauvaise Réputation (literally “the bad reputation”), which I translated as The Lousy Reputation. It’s a cheery hymn to non-conformity. I took some liberty in replacing the 14th of July (Bastille Day, or the French National Holiday) with the 4th of July (American Independence Day), but otherwise I managed to stick pretty close to the original.

My grandfather's exodus - part 2

The second in a series of blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929). You'll find the first part here. In this part, Lova makes it to a sanatorium in Georgia, earns some money, and prepares to steal across the border to Turkey.

My grandfather's exodus - part 1

The first in a series of blog entries in which my grandfather, Arieh Rabani (Lova Rabinovitch), tells his adventures walking from the Soviet Union to Israel (1927-1929).

Milena

a book review of Milena, by Margarete Buber-Neumann

I’ve decided to save impressions of occasional books I read from oblivion. I won’t feign journalistic neutrality: I’ll shamelessly mix in my own experience and sensibility.

I picked up Milena while browsing through the shelves of a local used bookshop, L’ivre Livre, on a pedestrian street of medieval Foix. As usual, I gravitated towards the sections on history and autobiography. My eye was on the lookout for anything to do with the Nazi concentration camps and genocide. I strongly dislike the word “holocaust” as it takes the brutal de-humanisation, shooting, gassing and burning of millions and raises it to the level of a religious offering – which is exactly how the Nazi leaders would like us to see it. The word “shoah” is inappropriate in that it is modern Israeli, whereas the vast majority of Jewish victims spoke Yiddish. The Yiddish word, “khurbm”, is too little known to be of use in everyday conversation. So I will stick to “Nazi genocide” to describe my small but growing library of books covering the period, mostly first-hand accounts by victims, with Primo Levi holding a place of honour.

Avek di yunge yorn

If ever there was a Yiddish song that proved the Jewish people were influenced by Ukranian folk songs, this must be it. The theme is characteristic of folk songs: "My youth has fled. Oy vey. And I didn't even carpe diem!" The melody is so typical of Eastern European folk songs, that it's almost strange to hear it sung in Yiddish. You'd expect it to be sung by three lovely young Ukranian peasant girls, dressed in beautiful white dresses embroidered with red, blue and yellow patterns, smiling brightly, and singing in perfect harmony with nasal voices (apparently, singing through the nose helped project the sound farther out to the wedding guests in the days preceding amplifiers and microphones). Anyway, here it is, with my best attempt at a nasal folksinger's voice.

The Gorilla

I began translating the songs of the great French singer-songwriter, Georges Brassens, about 15 years ago. Here's one of my very first translations of Brassens into English - "The Gorilla"