Showing Results 1 - 5 of 5
I was born in Tunisia, in Tunis, a few steps from that city’s large ghetto. My father, a harness maker, was somewhat pious, naturally somewhat so, as were all men of his trade and his station in life…
Some time ago, as I sat down to work in a Tel Aviv café in the area where I live, an elderly man suddenly approached me. “You are the son of Eliahu Shaharabani, of blessed memory,” he said, half…
At the end of King George Boulevard stood a tall building with two black, cavernous entrances. It served as a brothel, first for Arabs and later for Allied troops. When passing in front of this…
The tale of the Generation of the Land is a sad tale. Reflecting about the source of the depression that the situation in Israel instills in me, I can only ascribe it to expressions of ethnocentric…
My mother often sent me shopping to 18th Avenue (not a far distance, but for a kid it was unfamiliar territory), the district of Middle Eastern groceries, whose shopkeepers were…