Page 22 - Pesach 5779
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Being Jewish: the reminderVic Aboudara considers the stark warning he was given as a child and the moment it came to pass...c Sooner or later, someone will remind you that you’re Jewish.” I was about 15 when my father said this to me. While I wasn’t denying being Jewish, and never have, I was questioning a number of aspects of my religion. This was my father’s response without qualifi- cation as to how and when this had happened to him. Many years later, I found out the truth.My father was born in Paris to Sephardi Jews who had travelled there from Constantinople. As a child, his parents spoke Ladino and while my paternal grandfather was a religious man, my father showed little interest in Judaism. Not understanding a word of Hebrew, he learned his barmitzvah parrot-fashion.In August 1941 my father lived with his parents in a flat in Paris, in an area primarily inhabited by Turks – a bit like the East End of London. Life for Jews changed dramatically after the German occupation of Paris in June 1940, including the requirement to register at the local police sta- tion and wear the Star of David on their cloth- ing. My grandparents made the decision not to register, as did my father.Very early on the morning of 20 August, each end of their road was blocked off and the French gendarmes went house-to-house with a list of names from the register, arresting the Jews. They were first taken to the police sta- tions and then to the internment camp at Drancy where they remained until transported to Auschwitz to be murdered. Over 4,000 Jews were rounded up in two days.My father saw what was happening from his window and made the decision to escape. He told his parents to bolt the door after him and not to open it under any circumstances. He walked up to the roadblock where he could see both gendarmes and German soldiers. He knew that the gendarmes would recognise his accent as being French so he went to one of the Germans and asked what was happening. On being asked whether he was a Jew, he spat onthe ground and said: “No, I’m an Arab.” With that, they let him leave. He travelled to Lyon where he became the manager of the depart- ment that distributed potatoes nationwide. While there, he ensured that his parents re- ceived a sack of potatoes a week to barter with until the end of the war. When he had to escape again, after another employee reported him as a Jew, he came to England via Spain (where he was arrested and imprisoned as a spy) and Portugal, joining the French commandos.As for me, it took until the day after my 63rd birthday for that moment to happen.I grew up in Redbridge, an area densely pop- ulated with Jews. My secondary school as- signed two classrooms for dedicated Jewish as- semblies such was the cultural make-up. I went to Jewish youth clubs and a university with a substantial Jewish Society. While I have seen22 Ma Chadash | Pesach 5779Above Atlit, the British Mandate internment camp – and a serious blot on British historyOn being asked whether he was a Jew, he spat on the ground and said: “No, I’m an Arab.”VIC ABOUDARA


































































































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