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The voices of thousands of people floated to us on the quay. They were singing “Hatikvah,” the Hebrew hymn of hope. It was the song the Jews sang at every emergency and in every crisis. It was their…
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…