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צילום: ויז'ואל/פוטוס
Hope springs eternal
Rika Zarai’s new memoir is chockfull of hope and goodwill
In December 1925, two days after his bar mitzvah, singer Rika Zarai’s father Eliezer Zusman, left his native Ukraine and set out on the long and difficult journey to the Promised Land.
Although homesick for the family he left behind, the brave teen was determined to face the challenges of the trip. He first traveled from the town of Narobala to Odessa, where he boarded a ship en route to Turkey. It was there, in that foreign land, that a good woman took him under her kind wing.
In her new book, Zarai notes that during the entire grueling trek, Eliezer focused on only one thing: the Zionism on which he was raised. His sister, an activist student and an ardent Zionist, had told him about all the major personalities.
These beliefs raced through his veins and impelled him forward – even during the bleak days when sickness forced him to discontinue his march and the cold nights when he slept in outlying barns or by the side of the road.
“Those first hard eight months - my father repressed his entire life and didn’t want to talk about them,” Zarai writes. “Even as a girl, I would approach him and ask: ‘Tell me, Father. Don’t you want to tell me about the voyage that you took?’
“He would always reply: ‘What is there to tell? Life is not always easy.’ And when I would press him, he would call me ‘the KGB.’ And so I would go back to my own business.”
Upon his arrival in the Land of Israel, Zusman followed two pioneers to Kibbutz Degania, where he spent the next few years. After draining swamps and paving roads, he went to work at the phosphate plant near the Dead Sea, while studying Hebrew at night.
“Yiddish must be placed in the closet,” he insisted. “One must get used to the new language.”
While continuing to work during the day, Eliezer started a correspondence course towards an engineering degree. Meanwhile, an invitation to visit his friend Azriel in Jerusalem changed Eliezer’s life in ways that even he, the optimist, could have never imagined.
Fruma’s story
According to Zarai, her mother Fruma did not like discussing her Polish childhood. When asked who she was closest to, Fruma would respond, “to my big brother, the light and Shamash (auxiliary candle used on Chanukah) of my life.” She would describe that same brother as handsome, funny, and irresistibly charming.
Fruma’s mother became very sick during pregnancy and never really recovered. As a result, Fruma spent most of her time with her governess and the coachman, all alone in the big house. Only when her brother Aharon would come home would the house once again brim with laughter and happiness.
When Fruma graduated from high school, Aharon was already in his first year at the university. At that time, a new calamity struck the family. Aharon had fallen in love with a young Russian girl and would cross the border from Poland each night to visit her.
Finally, when he had completed his exams, Aharon entered Russia for the last time. Fruma knew that a tragedy had occurred when Aharon did not return the next morning.
He had been arrested by the Polish authorities and accused of being a Russian spy. Fruma’s father hired a passel of top-notch lawyers, to no avail. On Thursday morning, the family was informed that Aharon had committed suicide while in custody.
With one blow, the light and hope of Fruma’s life had dimmed forever. Her mother retreated even further into herself, and Fruma never stopped feeling guilty.
Despite – or possibly due to – her pain and her mother’s illness, Fruma devoted herself to her studies with renewed vigor. Although she was accepted to medical school, as a Jew, she was refused entry to the university.
Her father acquired false papers for her, and she was admitted to the university under a Christian name. Fruma was a diligent student. However, one day, the dean barged in on her.
“Get up, you lying Jew!” he ordered. “I demand that you get out of here!”
Fruma ran home, scrambled into bed, and tried to block out the world. Her desperate father suggested that she travel to Palestine for the Maccabiah Games. She jumped at the offer, knowing full well that she would never step foot in Poland again.
Rika Zarai, the woman about whom Jacques Brel himself said “this is the singing life”, was born to these two Zionist parents, Fruma and Eliezer. In her book “HaTikva Tamid Tzodeket” (literally, “The Hope Is Always Correct”), Zarai describes her parents’ path, which she eventually adopted for herself.
