Music
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Prolog
I have been living in the Twee Jan vd Heijdenstraat in Amsterdam since 2001.
Last Februay I have discovered that I have been living in a Jewish Home.
Till 1943 4 brothers and sisters lived here.
They were all murdered during the war.
I have done some research. In the city archive of Amsterdam I have found the family history.
Apparently they were old people, in their 70's, when they were deported. They were 4 brothers and sisters
from a family of 9 children. No one of this family survived.
Schoontje, Little Beauty, Yafa'le, was 74 when she was deported in 1943. She was murdered in Sobibor.
Here date of birth differs in only 99 years and 1 day from my own date of birth: 19/02/1864 vs 18/-2/1963.
I google the city archives and the memoriam sites.
Some more research shows that "my" street in Amsterdam was a Jewish street.
Nearly in every and each house and apartment lived Jews. Very few survived.
Last Februay I have discovered that I have been living in a Jewish Home.
Till 1943 4 brothers and sisters lived here.
They were all murdered during the war.
I have done some research. In the city archive of Amsterdam I have found the family history.
Apparently they were old people, in their 70's, when they were deported. They were 4 brothers and sisters
from a family of 9 children. No one of this family survived.
Schoontje, Little Beauty, Yafa'le, was 74 when she was deported in 1943. She was murdered in Sobibor.
Here date of birth differs in only 99 years and 1 day from my own date of birth: 19/02/1864 vs 18/-2/1963.
I google the city archives and the memoriam sites.
Some more research shows that "my" street in Amsterdam was a Jewish street.
Nearly in every and each house and apartment lived Jews. Very few survived.
Epilog
Back in Amsterdam I see my street with new eyes.
I visit my neighbour, my sewing teacher. We talk.
He descends from a German aristocratic family. He tells me how 10 years ago he fled from Cameroon, after he had lived there for 15 years. He had his life and company there. Then, one day, unexpected, as it always is, one of the girls who worked for him told him that the Whites were in great danger and that he had to fly. He packed what he could get and within one hour he was gone.
His eyes are wet, his cheeks are blushing. He is sick. He was addicted to everything. He can't stand and walk.
This is the first time a tells his story.
I visit my neighbour, my sewing teacher. We talk.
He descends from a German aristocratic family. He tells me how 10 years ago he fled from Cameroon, after he had lived there for 15 years. He had his life and company there. Then, one day, unexpected, as it always is, one of the girls who worked for him told him that the Whites were in great danger and that he had to fly. He packed what he could get and within one hour he was gone.
His eyes are wet, his cheeks are blushing. He is sick. He was addicted to everything. He can't stand and walk.
This is the first time a tells his story.
Nadaal and I
Wassim
Afif |
Me
Chaya's story
Russian neighbor
Julliette and Therese
Yael
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Drorit and I
[some of the information about Me will be told during those conversations]
Ephraim
Ahuva and Riad
Making this Documentary Film
Bitter Orange Tree
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George
Salim Barbara
Problems, problems, problems
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Josef and Elia
The Mountain
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EliLand / House / Home
Nostalgic stuff
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