Coochi Coochi Cochin

Why India indeed.

I've since returned the the "Country that God Gave" (according to the many slogans wallpapered on the walls of churches and schools around here), far away from home.

Far away from the surreal surroundings of my time in Melbourne.

Our family's strong closeness defined my life. Friday night dinners will never ever be the same. But nothing will ever be the same. Not for me, not for my mother, not for my aunty, not for my cousins, not for my Zaida. He was everyone's uncle, everyone's friend. He had a special name for me - Denise (Da Niece) Kim Sarah Hannah - and the day I was born he stopped horse riding. (Aparently. Ruth told me they went riding on their honeymoon. And i danced at their wedding. Hrm.) He filled me in on the ins and outs of the Hecht family when my mother just couldn't remember. He invited me into office to share lunch when we bumped into eachother at Beth Weizmann. He was always there to help us and support everyone in the family. He was David. My Uncle David.

I also want to thank all of you who helped our family throughout this tragedy. Thank god I have never been in this situation before, and it was so incredible to see and experience the magic of our friends and community during this time. I don't think I will ever forget your support.

But now I'm back in India, in Cochin to be exact, and it still feels surreal. I know that it shouldn't and that man, I couldn't wait to return, but now that I'm back - every emotion I suppressed has found a little hole in my skin from which to pour out. Or seep. It depends on the time of day. It's also difficult to return to a place that it challenging to travel in, after becoming comfortable with the everydayness and ease of Melbourne life. In Melbourne i never have to worry about the water I use for my toothbrush, nor of squat tiolets, or bug infested beds (well, that depends on how often I clean my room!), or people that want to cheat you. Life's easy, and that's the way we like it.

But life here in Cochin in easy as well. I have now met up with Nechama and it's wonderful to be on the road again. Cochin is a city in the south of India, in a state named Kerala (famous for the Keralan backwaters - little canals through lush jungles). It is quiet, quaint, and very beautiful. The houses are painted in fabulous yellows, greens and pinks - some are over 200 yrs old, built from the portugese era. Bouganvillea billow from the high walls and the cracked paint while school kids in blue uniforms play cricket in the parade grounds outside my first hotel. Life is slow here in Cochin. I like it.

On Friday I went out and about in the area - my suave rickshaw driver Sabu took me to the laundry where men and women wash the clothes of nice hotels. Rows and rows of white linen bustled in the wind, while men slapped teeshirts on the ground to get all the dirt out. I also visited a ginger factory, where the produce is exported all over India, and even to Japan. It smelt amazing.

But my most memorable moment of Friday was Friday night - Shabbat. God had a good idea when he created Shabbat. I think it's a most perfect method to measure the weeks - and also, its a very special time for family - whether it be one's own, or the Jewish family. The reason I am in Cochin is because of its Jewish history. Once upon a time, thousands of Jews lived in this area - it's disputed whether they arrived during King Solomon's time, or after the destruction of the Second Temple, or if they are part of the ten tribes that King Nebuchadnezzer transported when carving up the kingdom after the destruction of the First Temple. Or they arrived with the merchant trading in India. One thing that we can all agree on is that there is a strong Jewish heritage in Cochin - and I am infatuated. This is what led me to the oldest synagogue in the Commonwealth - it's over 500 years old. (It sure beats Ballarat!) One must take their shoes off before entering, not beause of any holiness etc, but because the floor is made up of hundreds of Chinese porcelain painted tiles - and no two tiles are the same. The oil chandeliers are from Europe - and I was very much reminded of the shules in Tzfat, Israel.

So where shall I begin...
It was bucketing down - a very fast and fat rain, the most annoying - and my rickshaw driver dropped me at the beginning of the street that leads to the shule. After arriving absolutely soaked, I was told that there weren't enough men for a minyan. The leader of the tiny community opened the Aron Kodesh for all of us to see, and then hurried to close it. He was hungry, and there was no time to waste if there wasn't any prayers. Someone poured some wine into plastic cups, and an Israeli said Kiddush on the Bimah. The wine was awfully sweet and somewhat fizzy (?) and most people left soon after that. I was soon talking to an Israeli/Indian girl who invited me and another British couple to her and her husband's home for Shabbat dinner. Boy, what a night.

The husband was born in India, his mother is a Pardesi, a White Indian Jew (apparently there's three different types, a little like Ashkenazi and Sephardi) and he made aliyah to Israel more than twenty years ago. He returned to India seven years ago because his mother was very old and getting quite sick. His wife was born in Israel, but to Indian parents - and they both speak Hebrew, fluent English, Hindi, and some other Indian dialects that have eluded me right now. Their home is decked out in 'Jewish' attire - lots of Hamsas, prayer posters, Breslev 'Nachman' slogan stickers, pictures of Moshe and Rav Kook. He slaughters his own chickens for he doesn't trust the mashgiach of the current Shechter, he makes all his own liquers and spirits (and proceeded to make me get drunk even before we started the meal. "Here Sarah, you must have more of the Irish cream I made. I made it - everything in this house is 100% kosher, and you must drink - its Shabbat!") and he is a very devout man. It's incredible. So far removed from the POlish shetle life I am used to hearing about.

Ok, I must run. Will elaborate later. God bless. xxx