This is a guest post from ‘Israelinurse‘

Some stories could only be Israeli, and this is one of them.

This wonderful tale begins in Kuwait just over a century ago with the birth of two brothers – Salah and Daoud al Kuwaiti – who, from the ages of 10 and 8, were recognized as musical child prodigies and went on to become the most influential musical duo in the Arab world in the first half of the 20^th century. Their popularity and success prompted the family to move back to the country of their origin – Iraq -and in the 1930s they were at the pinnacle of their career, playing for King Faisal (Salah even composed a piece especially for the king’s coronation ceremony) and composing songs commissioned by the great Egyptian diva Umm Kultum and other superstars of the Arab music scene.

But the al Kuwaiti brothers were Jewish and, despite their phenomenal success and connections to the ruling classes, they too fled Baghdad at the beginning of the 1950s, along with some 120,000 other Iraqi Jews in the wake of the Farhud and the growing restrictions placed upon Jews.

With their arrival in the emerging Jewish state struggling to absorb hundreds of thousands of refugees from post-war Europe and the Arab world, the al Kuwaiti brothers’ fortunes took a severe down-turn. Relatively unknown in their new homeland, they did manage to get work playing on the Arab channel of the state radio station and with its Arab orchestra, but were forced to seek additional sources of income too and ran a hardware store in one of south Tel Aviv’s poorer neighbourhoods. Their disenchantment even led them to forbid their children from entering the world of music.

In stark contrast to their relative anonymity in Israel, the al Kuwaiti brothers’ music was – and is still – broadcast on radio stations throughout the Arab world, but with any reference to their names and nationalities carefully deleted. In Iraq itself, the mention of their name was forbidden by a special committee established by Saddam Husain to sift out “cultural impurities” and their compositions were – and are – often described as being of ‘folk origin’.

The saga of the al Kuwaiti brothers is little known outside the small circles of the Iraqi Jewish community and aficionados of Arab music, but the latest chapter in the story has received even less exposure outside of Israel itself.

Just months after Daoud al Kuwaiti passed away in 1976 his grandson was born and named in his honour. From a very early age Dudu Tassa displayed the same musical abilities as his prodigious ancestors and fortunately did not heed the family ban on developing his talents.

After many years as a successful musician on the largely Western-influenced Israeli popular music scene, Tassa returned to the musical roots of his grandfather and great uncle and began experimenting with their music. Earlier this year he produced an album which is exceptional from several points of view and not only for its beauty.

Blending old recordings of Salah and Daoud’s music with his own, (and one cannot but marvel at the technical aspects of that project in itself), Dudu Tassa has revitalized many of their popular songs by combining his own rock and roll style with their classics. Tassa’s electric guitar – an instrument unheard of in Arab music – joins Salah’s violin and Daoud’s oud with sensitivity and respect, creating a truly innovative work.

The album is sung entirely in Arabic and includes guest appearances by such stalwarts of the Israeli popular music scene as Yehudit Ravitz and Barry Sakharov:  hardly names one would, until now, have associated with the genre. The co-operation of such local pop icons with Dudu Tassa on this project offers a glimpse – for those still unaware – into both the eclectic nature of the ever-maturing and developing Israeli culture and the rich tapestry of the bridge between East and West, past and present, which so characterizes Israel.

This is a guest post from Israelinurse

Something very special is about to take place in Athens. No, it has nothing to do with the naval-gazing flotilla flotsam; this is something which really is about making a difference to the lives of the people involved.

For the first time ever, a tennis team made up of of two Jews and two Arabs will represent Israel at the Special Olympics which opened in Athens on June 25th.

Tamir Segal (34) from Kiryat Shmona, Elad Gevandschnaider (22) from Be’er Sheva, Muhammad Kunbar (20) and Jafar Tawil (20), both from Beit Safafa, will be representing their country and hope to bring medals home from Athens.

Elad, who is a volunteer in the IDF, previously won a silver medal at the European Championships earlier in the year and Tamir won a bronze medal at the 2007 Special Olympics.  Muhammad and Jafar will be taking part in the competition for the first time, but they will also be making history as the first Arabs to represent Israel at the Special Olympics.

Before leaving for Athens Jafar said:

‘I have a great relationship with Elad and Tamir. I love playing tennis, and I hope to be a good player and to be among the world’s best. I’m excited about the Olympics, and I will give my all to win.’

Jafar, Muhammad, Elad and Tamir are, of course, already winners – and not just on the tennis court. Their team work is a shining example of what can be achieved through co-existence and co-operation. Any medals they may bring home are an added extra.

Here’s wishing them all the very best of luck!

This is a guest post from Israelinurse

At just over 1,000 metres above sea level, Mount Bental in the north of the Golan Heights is one of a series of hills and mountains in the area which are in fact the remnants of the long extinct volcanoes which produced the signature grey basalt stone of the area.

Situated right next to Merom Golan – the first kibbutz established on the Golan just weeks after the Six Day war – the mountain hosts a now disused army out-post where visitors can walk along the trenches and descend the steps leading down into the underground living quarters to get an idea of life on the front lines.

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This is a guest post from Israelinurse

When Chas asked me what I thought of Shimon Peres’ statement about the Golan made during an interview this week with CNN whilst in Washington, my thoughts immediately jumped to an old, yellowed newspaper cutting which is lying somewhere around the house, although I’m not sure exactly where.

The cutting is roughly 25 years old and shows a picture of Shimon Peres visiting our kibbutz here in the Golan and being greeted by the children from our kindergarten. I can’t remember why Peres was here, and whether or not he was Prime Minister or Foreign Minister at the time, but I distinctly remember why I saved the cutting.

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This is a guest post from Israelinurse

About a month ago I wrote a post for Oy Va Goy about Tu B’Shvat, but the almond trees traditionally connected to that festival were not in bloom at that time. Since then we have had much more rain, though still nowhere near the average annual rainfall, let alone enough to take us out of the deficit induced by seven consecutive drought years.

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This is a guest post from Israelinurse

“Now the Philistines gathered their armies for battle; and they were gathered at Socoh, which belongs to Judah, and encamped between Socoh and Aze’kah, in E’phesdam’mim. And Saul and the men of Israel were gathered, and encamped in the valley of Elah, and drew up in line of battle against the Philistines.”  (I Samuel 17, 1-2)

So begins one of the best known Tanach stories – that of David and Goliath – and so too begins the trail up to Tel Azeka which is flanked by cubes of stone, each one bearing an inscription taken from the Book of Samuel. As one climbs the hill the story unfolds, reaching its dramatic climax at the summit where one has a breathtaking view of the scene of the story – the Valley of Elah below. Elah (or Ella), is the Hebrew name for the Terebinth tree,  several varieties of which are native to Israel and make up part of the natural forestation of the region.

Tel Azeka is situated in the beautiful ‘Park Britannia’ – a Jewish National Fund forest planted in the 1950s with the support of the British Jewish community – in the Judean lowlands. It has been identified by archaeologists as the biblical Aze’kah and today is home to many varieties of flora and fauna including gazelles and an extensive bat population. The bats are attracted to the area by the many caves hollowed out in the soft limestone, but they are not the only ones to have found refuge in those caves. During the third major rebellion against the Romans in 132-136 CE, some of Bar Kochva’s followers also made the caves at Tel Azeka their hideout.

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This is a guest post from Israelinurse

Some define me as an obstacle to peace. Others call me a right-wing extremist. Ben Bradshaw would describe me as an ‘illegal Jewish colonialist’, whilst many internet commentators and journalists say that I’m a thief and some are trying to make me complicit in an internationally recognised crime.

None of them actually know me, of course, but I am judged and convicted in absentia day in and day out around the world on the basis of the simple fact that I live in a place where, according to my accusers, Jews should not be permitted to live.

They call that place a ‘settlement’ and me a ‘settler’. The ability of that label to instantly conjure up reactions of hatred, disdain and an immediate dismissal of everything else I am or have done in my life makes me feel profoundly sorry for my accusers. It is a sad thing when a person becomes so consumed with hatred for and prejudice against an unknown other based purely on a stereotype. I was brought up to call that racism and bigotry, but times have apparently changed.

Those who accuse and disparage also choose to ignore and even try to hide the reason why I live where I do. I think it’s time to jog some memories and can think of no better way than with this song, written just after the Six Day War in 1967 – “Daughter; are you crying or laughing?” by Yovav Katz and David Kribushie.

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This is a guest post from Israelinurse

One of the things I love about the Jewish festivals is the way they are so intimately connected to the cycle of nature here in Israel. Not only do they serve to remind us of our ancestors’ agricultural past in this land, but they also directly connect us to one place, with a specific climate and cycle of natural life – something which one does not find in many other faiths – and Tu B’Shvat is of course an excellent example.

This time last year I was making vain attempts to dig a hole in the frozen English soil in order to plant a tree for Tu B’Shvat – the New Year of Trees – but nothing around me was sprouting or blossoming and my little sapling had an aghast look of “you can’t be serious!” about it, so back into the poly-tunnel it went to await more clement times.

But here, where the festival originates, the trees are indeed waking up after winter and the first new leaves and blossoms are beginning to appear. Often, the almond trees manage to time their first blossoms exactly right for Tu B’Shvat – creating a spectacular display – but this year, perhaps due to the fact that we have only had about a quarter of our annual rainfall so far, they seem to have missed the deadline as can be seen in the picture below.

On Friday afternoon, our whole kibbutz –old and young alike – will be out planting trees as we always do. My grown-up children still enjoy pointing out every tree they planted with their own hands as they walk around the various neighbourhoods.   And then of course, as with every good Jewish holiday, there’s the subject of cuisine.

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This is a guest post from Israelinurse

I know, I know; it’s cold, grey and damp outside. The footpaths are treacherous and the sky laden with yet more snow. The sodden vegetation smells musty and your hallway has been invaded by dripping umbrellas and soaking boots.

So imagine for a moment that it’s August in Israel and you’re looking for a place to escape from the obstinate rays of a relentless sun and a temperature higher than that of your own blood. Where would you go? My first choice would be the cool caverns of Rosh Hanikra high up on the Lebanese-Israeli border.

There you can enjoy a view of the coastline as far south as Haifa before taking the short cable car ride down to the entrance to the caves formed by the sea’s etching away of the soft limestone over millions of years.

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This is a guest post from Israelinurse

As quite a few Oy Va Goy readers either visit Israel regularly or seem to be planning a trip, Chas and I thought that an occasional ‘Israeli beauty spots’ corner might be useful to those looking for places of interest to visit, especially sites of the more ‘off the beaten track’ variety. So here’s the first instalment – tell us what you think in the comments!

It’s not every day that one can see a 2,700 year-old war documentary, but the Lachish reliefs which are on display in the British Museum in London are exactly that: the account of the siege of the city of Lachish in 701 BCE by the Assyrian king Sennacherib as recounted by the victors. The other side of the story is of course told in the Torah – Kings II.

At the time, Lachish was the second most important city in Judea after Jerusalem and Sennacherib’s troops put much effort into conquering it, including the construction of an enormous siege ramp which can still be seen today and where around a thousand arrowheads were found during excavations.

Walking up to the main gateway, it is easy to understand why the early inhabitants of Lachish chose the site to build their double- walled city; the deep valleys on all sides, today used by the members of the modern Moshav Lachish to grow the grapes for which they are famous, afford protection and from the site of the city one has a view for miles around – right up to the Hebron hills to the east and as far as the sea to the west.

Just inside the gateway is the ‘letters room’ where archaeologists discovered the famous ‘Lachish letters’ dating from the time of yet another military campaign against the city – this time in 587 BCE by the Persian king Nebuchadnezzar. These messages, written in ink on pottery to Ya’osh, the military commander of the city, can also be viewed in the British Museum and witness the desperation of the last days before the fall of Lachish and the subsequent exile of the Jews to Babylon.

Up on top of the hill, one can wander among the ruins of the ancient palace, its courtyard and surrounding buildings. The deep well, which must have provided the residents with water even throughout the long sieges, is located just outside the city walls. Today much of the site is overgrown, but it is still easy to imagine what life would have been like there 2,500 years ago and before and how desperate Hoshaiah, the writer of the Lachish letters, must have been to see the city’s signal fires carry on burning.

Could they see today’s Moshav Lachish nestling close by to the site of their own city, I have a feeling that Hoshaiah and Ya’osh would approve of the fact that the farmers there grow grapes on the surrounding land, just as they themselves did thousands of years ago and as shown on the Lachish reliefs. And if you’re visiting during the summer, don’t forget to try the delicious ‘Tali’ grapes grown right there beside the hill which is as intertwined with the history of the Jewish people as the vines themselves.

How to get there: from Beit Shemesh, take route 38 southwards to Nehousha junction and then continue on route 35 south-westwards until it meets road 3415. Take a left turn at the junction in the direction of Moshav Lachish. The entrance to the car park is on the left, just before the gate of the moshav.

This is a guest post from Israelinurse

The good news from Israel is that the rain we’ve all been waiting for – especially urgent due to the tragic fires on Mount Carmel – arrived this morning and the fire is now officially extinguished.

The bad news is that Deputy Commander Ahuva Tomer, head of the Haifa police station who was critically injured on Thursday whilst trying to rescue others from the flames, died of her injuries this morning.

May her memory be blessed, along with all the other forty-one members of the various security forces who lost their lives trying to help others.

This is a guest post from Israelinurse

Israel is currently not experiencing any weather, and that’s official: even the meteorological service has turned off the raincloud radar due to lack of ‘significant weather’.

So with nothing to report on the home front, our weathermen resort to showing us pictures from snowy Europe in their nightly reports and I keep trying to remember back to last winter when my daughter and I, huddled together in freezing Yorkshire, vowed that would be our last British winter. It’s pretty hard though to conjure up the memories of just how cold it actually was trudging through the snow to the station when one is basking barefoot in twenty eight degrees of still glorious sunshine and winter clothing seems so anachronistic.  But contrary to what British readers may believe, this Indian summer isn’t all good news.

By now we should have had some rainfall and after the hottest summer in Israeli history with record high temperatures during the month of August, the water level in the Sea of Galilee should be slowly rising instead of continuing to fall. The wheat recently sown should be sprouting instead of lying dormant in the ground and farmers should have stopped using their irrigation allowances long ago. The parched hillsides which suffered an unusual number of bush fires in recent months should be sprouting green shoots again. Our wet season usually lasts from November until March, but this year we’re experiencing the driest autumn in 70 years. Many clothing shops even have special offers on winter coats already because so far, the stock is just not selling.

Last Saturday I went to eat lunch in my favourite restaurant in the Druze village of Massa’de –Nidal – in the north of the Golan. The labane there is in a class of its own; rich and creamy with just the right level of sourness to compliment the accompanying olive oil and za’atar. On the other hand, their hummus is excellent too, so deciding what to order is sometimes a long process, but when one is sitting at a pavement table, caressed by the rays of a sun neither too fierce nor too weak, that’s part of the fun.

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This is a guest post by Israelinurse

It took Viva Palestina four weeks to deliver 500 tons of ‘aid’ to Gaza.

In those same four weeks Israel has transported 75,000 tons of aid into Gaza.

This is a guest post by Israelinurse

Rosh HaShana (Jewish New Year) is just around the corner and as ever we will be eating apples dipped in honey to symbolise our hopes for a sweet year to come. This seemed like a good time to take a closer look at the creatures without which we would have neither the apples nor the honey, so off I went to meet beekeeper Yaniv of the Reikin Farm on Moshav Natur.

Yaniv has been independent for five years, having spent some years before that learning the profession. He is in fact a third generation of beekeepers in Israel; his wife’s grandfather first began keeping bees as a hobby in 1919 in Petah Tikva where he was born, whilst working as a court secretary for the British Mandate and being active in the Hagana. The passion for bees passed down to his son and now to Yaniv, who continues the family tradition and has a photograph of Grandfather Azriel on the label of his jars of delicious honey.

Yaniv has some 600 hives which he moves around the Golan and Upper Galilee areas in the spring and summer when the apple, nectarine and pear orchards, as well as other crops such as pumpkin, need pollinating.  In the autumn and winter he takes his hives down to the warmer Jordan Valley and defines his honey as ‘wild flower’ honey due to the fact that during the dry summer season the nectar which the bees gather comes from the flowers of thistles, wild dill, rosemary and squill.

During the autumn Yaniv is busy preparing his hives for the winter by introducing new queens to the hives and creating new swarms. Each swarm comprises four to five combs and eight to ten combs make up a family which will only start producing honey a year after the swarm has been established. This is also the time when Yaniv takes care of the health of his hives by treating ailments and the ticks which can wipe out a hive before closing them up for the winter.

The native bee of Israel is the Syrian bee, which Yaniv describes as being ‘temperamental’ and gives little honey, so when commercial beekeeping first began in Israel during the 1950s bees were brought from Italy. Today’s bees are a hybrid of those Italian new immigrants interbred with bees from the Caucuses and are the result of the artificial insemination of queen bees with the aim of strengthening the hives. Yaniv buys ready inseminated queens to create new swarms and strengthen his existing ones.

Each of his hives yields between 30 and 60 kilograms of honey a year, depending on the weather conditions. In a year with good rainfall, evenly spread throughout the winter season, he can produce 17 to 18 tonnes of honey. Last year the rainfall was concentrated in a relatively short period of time which resulted in the wild flowers shortening their blooming season so he only managed to produce nine tonnes.  Yaniv also packs all the honey himself under the watchful eye of a supervisory body which has granted his produce the status of ‘quality honey’ and ensures that his product meets international standards.

It is always a pleasure to meet people who are passionate about what they do for a living and Yaniv’s obvious love of his profession makes his product very special. As he showed me how the bees beat their wings 2,000 times to cause the water to evaporate from the honey newly stored in the combs, I thought about the thousands of years of the ‘special relationship’ between man and this tiny, yet complex, creature which is essential for so much of our food production and how much we need people like Yaniv who truly respect and look after them. My apple dipped in honey is going to taste even more special this year.

Wishing all ‘Oy Va Goy’ readers a happy and sweet year to come.