An Island Called Home: Returning to Jewish Cuba

Chapter 7: In The Realm of Lost Things

[ 88 ] 7 in the realm of lost things Alberto Behar Medrano, a computer engineer, lives with his wife, Carucha, in the house that belonged to his grandparents, who passed away more than twenty years ago. Located in a quiet neighborhood not far from Havana, the house opens onto the living room where big old rocking chairs rest on pink and brown tile floors so smooth and so spotless as soon as you enter you have an urge to walk barefoot. Alberto says that as a boy he liked to stare at the tile floors and ponder the arabesques of its design. Here, you know the ghosts of the ancestors have not been shooed away. This is how Alberto prefers it. Carucha feels differently. She doesn’t like to have old photographs hanging everywhere. She doesn’t like to have to look every day at photographs of people who are gone, whether through the power of death or the power of diaspora . Either way, in the end it’s the same—they are gone. But despite her objections, such photographs cling to the walls: there is one of Alberto’s father, who passed away in 1987, and another of Alberto’s aunt Regina who left Cuba in 1962 and has never returned. Alberto confesses that there is something melancholy about such photographs . “I know I’m being a masochist,” he announces. “Always remembering those who are no longer here.” He’s like his grandfather, about whom he says, “The poor man, he kept every scrap of paper anyone ever gave him.” Alberto lifts his gaze up to the doorframe at the entrance to the house. Behar_3P-02.qxd:Behar design 7/30/07 2:20 PM Page 88 [ 89 ] Havana “You see that mezuzah? It was there always. My grandfather kept it inside the house, not outside. I’ve never moved it. It’s exactly where it’s always been. We haven’t changed anything in the house. For better or for worse, we’ve kept things the same.” We follow Alberto to the bedroom. From the chifforobe he pulls out a velvet pouch with an embroidered Jewish star. Then he empties several drawers and boxes that are stuffed with old photographs and documents. “This kippah belonged to my grandfather.” Inside the satin lining of the skullcap, the words, “Souvenir of the wedding of Isolina and Jaime.” The date is clearly stamped: 1959. Alberto holds up an old tallit, a prayer shawl that is slightly yellowed. It also belonged to his grandfather, a Sephardic Jew from Turkey. Alberto remarks, “My grandfather was religious.That’s why I like the work I do in the Patronato preparing children for their bar and bat mitzvahs. I feel that I’m passing the culture on to them. I’m maintaining Jewish traditions.” I’ve seen Alberto at the Patronato teaching the children, seen his enthusiasm and selfless devotion. He’s the most spiritual Jew in Cuba, unwavering in his soul-searching. “I’m not an Orthodox Jew,” he adds. “I wasn’t brought up in that tradition and our conditions here make it impossible for us to live that way. But I remember how my grandfather would curse me when I’d turn on the lights on Shabbat. I would do it on purpose to pester him. He was religious . Not my father.” Alberto’s father supported the Revolution. He spoke good Russian. But when he was dying, he asked to be buried in the Sephardic cemetery in Guanabacoa , across the train tracks. Alberto questioned his father’s wish, reminding him that he’d never believed in religion. His father insisted he wanted to be buried where his parents were buried, together with other Jews. At the funeral, when asked to recite the Kaddish, Alberto said he had no idea what Kaddish was. It was the first time he’d heard of the existence of this ancient Jewish Behar_3P-02.qxd:Behar design 7/30/07 2:20 PM Page 89 Behar_3P-02.qxd:Behar design 7/30/07 2:20 PM Page 90 [ 91 ] Havana prayer of mourning, which children are obligated to recite when they lose their mother or father. “Did your mother die soon after your father?” He looks at me as if I’ve uttered a curse. “My mother is alive. She left for Miami in 1993.” He explains that his mother had heart problems and the medication...