“It’s awsome! she told me! This two ladies rocks! So vivid and full of life! You would love it she concluded. Yes me and my cousin we share a passion for food and specially eastern jewish recipies! When i last visited her, I learnt a lot watching her cooking even though she will argue she was not…
So i made some research. Who are Oma & Bella?
The 80 something Oma & Bella are two friends and there are living together in their appartment in Berlin for more than five years. One is from Poland, the other from Vilnus. They go to the market together and cook as it used to be in their home before the war, with passion, without recipies or graduation measures…!!!!
Oma’s granddaughter Alexa decided to make a movie and to catch these instants of life, humour, cooking and above all friendship.
During the war, Oma went to camp, and Bella escaped from the Vilnus ghetto. They lost everything and instead of flying away as many after the war, they stayed in Berlin because it was their home…
In the past two years, Oma & Bella ‘s story travelled to New York, Beirut, Melbourne, Sydney, Tel Aviv… A cook book is now available written both in German and English. Last month the movie won the Grimme Price in Berlin!
Today, i’m sorry to tell you that Bella passed away… She will be forever in our hearts.
“Bella taught me what it means to love, to be a friend and to stand by what you believe, no matter the consequences. She will be so missed and forever remembered. Please send all your love and strength to my grandmother. And please, if you see her around the streets of Charlottenburg, always say hello.Thank you.” Said Alexa Oma’s granddaughter.
Lomir tanzn, lomir singen, lomir lachn with Oma & Bella forever! Lchaim!!!!! To life!
I’m sad tonight.
I shouldn’t. My country is going mad.
It has been like that for some times now.
I’m sad tonight.
There was a protest march today in Paris and words were said against Jews, words from another century.
They don’t hide anymore.
Did they ever? Or was I depth? Or blind? Or both?
You can go to a diner party nowadays and hear regular folks defending the worst abomination and saying “can’t we laugh anymore?”
What if each people put their identity, their religion, their gender away, for an instant? Would we still be fighting against each other?
That’s what Rocé sings in the song Seul (Alone) ( Album Identité en Crescendo-2006)
Dear France, don’t be afraid, we are all differents but so alike, we are coming from so many different places.
So when you will be asked ” Where do you come from?” Just answer ” I’m from here”.
To my dear cousin from my America,
I can’t focus on my yiddish exercices tonight, too tired… but listening to Isaac Bashevis Singer’s Yiddish speech in Stockholm (1978) makes me feel so good!
People ask me often, ‘Why do you write in a dying language?’ (…) Yiddish may be a dying language but it is the only language I know well. Yiddish is my mother language and a mother is never really dead.”
For the entire traduction:yiddish word of the week
You told me in your last letter that only religious people from Brooklyn speak it nowadays…maybe your right! Hopfully, your soon to be born son may have the chance to learn it!
I give you the address: you can do it on line! http://yiddishweb.com/nouveau-cours-de-yiddish-a-distance/
And to answer your question, why Yiddish? I will answer: Why not? One morning it came to me,it was a sunny Saturday, i had nothing better to do and i entered the the Medem library and I made my decision, I wanted to discover the joy and mysteries of Yiddish.
I confess it’s hard reading it because i’ve never studied Hebrew before but hearing it’s just great!
I found this video of Prof. Barbara Henry of the University of Washington’s Stroum Jewish Studies and Slavic Languages & Literature Department .
I so agree with her. I hope it will touch you as much as it did to me!
To complete your decision of learning Yiddish with your child:
The Petit Nicolas has just been tranlated in Yiddish! That’s a good sign!
To finish in music, the song i’m learning at the moment:” The bulbes song” interpreted by Korean children!
Your dear French cousin!
Es gibt so Momente, da ist einem alles klar. Zum Beispiel wenn die USA eine Woche nach der NSA-Prism-Aufdeckung eine Terrorwahrnehmung rausgibt oder wenn Bushido einen Integrationsbambi bekommt. Dann bedauert man, dass man Spengler’s “Untergang des Abendlandes” doch nicht zu Ende gelesen hat.
21.09. Sa / Einlass 23:00 / Beginn 24:00 / AK 6,00 €
(ehemals Gartenfeldstraße 57)
The great writer and mystifier Bruno Schulz left a plethora of puzzles, myths and hidden chambers in two thin booklets of essays. However, one of his lesser-known and most challenging riddles was forgotten under a thick layer of paint in one of the former villas of Drohobych.
Bruno Schulz has emerged as one of the most important writers and innovators of the Polish language in the 20th century, his works translated into 39 languages. He was born in 1892 in the then Austrian (later Polish and now Ukrainian) town of Drohobych to Jakub Schulz, a Jewish cloth merchant. The provincial oil town on the outskirts of Poland and the fading visionary image of his sick father later became the key characters of his magical metaphorical prose. Apart from being a writer and a painter, Schulz was earning his living as a school teacher.
He never left Drohobych for an extended period of time; the Nazi invasion of Poland trapped Schulz within the town’s ghetto. In order to save his life, Dziunia Szmer, a friend of Schulz’s, put him into a life-prolonging contract with a Nazi officer Felix Landau. As an ‘indentured Jew’, Bruno Schulz had to catalogue loot, make cliché verres and drawings and produce inlays, as well as paint murals in at least four different buildings in Drohobych – the SS casino, a new annex to the riding hall, the former Jewish orphanage and the ‘play room’ of the mansion Landau had confiscated. The officer lived there with his mistress, the Gestapo secretary and former dancer Trude Segel, along with the children from his first marriage, Wolf-Dieter and Helga.
On the 19th of November 1942, Schulz was shot dead on a street in Drohobych. His murderer is believed to have been Karl Günther, Landau’s rival. However, Schulz was murdered on the day of ‘Black Thursday’, coinciding with the massacre of 230 other Jews in the ghetto; identifying the actual killer of Schulz is thus difficult.
The murals of Schulz were painted over and subsequently forgotten. So were Schulz’s essays, rediscovered and appreciated only decades after his death. Despite an intense search for them, none of the murals were ever found.
In 2001 German film director Benjamin Geissler came to Drohobych , together with his father the writer Christian Geissler, hoping to discover the lost ‘fairy tale mural’ in the former playroom of Landau’s villa. Their search and its outcome are described in Geissler’s documentary ‘Bilder Finden’ (‘Finding Pictures’). With the help of Alfred Schreyer, the last living student of Bruno Schulz, Landau’s villa was identified; a closer look at the walls of a present-day storage room in a private apartment revealed the shapes of Schulz’s images. An official commission of Polish and Ukrainian experts arrived at the spot and, having uncovered some fragments of the mural, verified that Bruno Schulz was the author of the paintings. The next step was to obtain international funding needed to professionally uncover, restore and preserve the murals.
Nonetheless, the discovery of the seemingly lost mural was not the end of its mysterious story. Shortly after the finding, representatives of Yad Vashem Holocaust memorial, removed three fragments of the mural and transported them to Israel. The act was claimed to be illegal, since such appropriation could only have been possible with the special permission of the Ukrainian Ministry of Culture. Another five fragments were removed in 2002 by Ukrainian restorers.
The controversy over national claims to Schulz’s heritage, which broke out right after the Yad Vashem incident, was naturally triggered by the region’s diverse background, so typical for pre-war Central Europe. For Yad Vashem, Schulz is a Holocaust victim and his murals are part of a Holocaust story. For Poland, Bruno is a Polish writer, innovator of the Polish language and literature, and last but not least, a Polish citizen. For Ukraine, he was a resident of the Ukrainian town Drohobych, and this is exactly where the very mural was created and later found.
Yet according to Benjamin Geissler, Schulz’s work cannot be torn apart, neither metaphorically nor literally. Geissler suggests the characters Schulz depicted in his last mural are not merely fairy tale figures, as expected in the decoration of a children’s room. On closer observation, one can unmistakably recognize Felix Landau on his beloved horse, his lover Gertrude, Schulz’s mother and many other subtle images among the depicted characters. Schulz’s mural is a Brothers Grimm tale on the surface and a Holocaust story, likewise a personal tragedy on a deeper level, says Geissler. Turning a task demanded of him into something much more meaningful and personal was an act of both childishness and prophecy, inherent to Schulz’s art. It’s because of its messages that the mural cannot be separated and can only be viewed in the way it was created, in the way its elements were placed in relation to each other.
Luckily, there is still a chance to see how the room used to look. Benjamin Geissler has created a 3D model of the chamber with pictures, and it was recently exhibited in Martin-Gropius-Bau in Berlin. Once one enters the model of the dark narrow storeroom, Schulz’s drawings start to project on each wall, accompanied by a mysterious tune. Outside of the 3D installation, one can read about the life of Bruno Schulz and the story of the discovery and loss of the mural.
Despite having perished over 70 years ago and remained virtually unknown for years after his death, Schulz’s work appears to attract more interest with every passing year. Yuri Andrukhovych, a renowned Ukrainian writer and poet, who took part in a panel discussion during the exhibition, said he felt sceptical about publishing his translation of Schulz’s works into Ukrainian. It was not only about the great responsibility of translating the complicated metaphorical language of Schulz, but also about the unclear demand for this book in Ukraine. However, the edition was sold out faster than estimated, even by the bravest of expectations. Over the last few years, Bruno Schulz has been transformed from a complete stranger, a weird Polish Jewish ghost from the past into a local genius, a beloved figure from Drohobych for many Ukrainians. Andrukhovych claims his translation is meant to make Schulz even more accessible to the Ukrainian reader; he tried to unload the complicated text of unnecessary polonisms and local words, inherent to some previous translations, and pay due attention to the rhythm and pace of the text.
Andrukohvych’s colleague Yuri Prokhasko also took part in the discussions, and not only due to his own fascination with Schulz’s prose and story – Prokhasko himself served as Geissler’s assistant during the filming of ‘Bilder Finden’ in Drohobych.
The Schulz exhibition has found its place among an immense series of memorials and exhibitions called ‘Diversity Destroyed’, taking place in Berlin in 2013. Under the caption ‘Berlin 1933 – 1938 – 1945,’ it approaches the wartime European tragedy from the perspective of the flourishing diversity characterising pre-war Europe. The fantastic and mysterious semi-fictional and real worlds of Bruno Schulz, who as the exhibition introduction states ‘was born as an Austrian, lived as a Pole and died as a Jew’, is certainly one of the last and most intense embodiments of this epoch.
Edited by Benjamin Geissler and Dmitri Macmillen.
unsere Kinder haben ein Recht darauf die ganze Wahrheit zu erfahren, keine halben Sachen, das ist nicht fair, nicht förderlich und schlichtweg einfach nicht die Wahrheit !
Deutsche Schulbücher erklären Israelis zu Tätern
Im Nahost-Konflikt machen deutsche Schulbuchverlage die israelische Seite zu Tätern, Palästinenser zu Opfern. Cornelsen, Westermann und Klett sehen keinen Grund für Änderungen. Von Gideon Böss
Wo bleibt Dein Aufschrei jetzt, G.G.?
Liegt er vielleicht nur verborgen unterm letzten Schnee?
Kämpft er vielleicht nur noch mit dem Frost
aus dem ach so fernen Fernost?
Wo bleibt Deine ‘Lyrik’ jetzt, G.G.?
Ist sie erschallt und schon zertreten von Kim Jongs kleinem Zeh?
Bist Du zum öffentlich-lyrischen Schämen schon zu taub,
die allerletzte Tinte im Tintenfass schon Staub?
Wo bleiben Deine Worte jetzt, G.G.?
Müsstest Du nicht heulen über den nuklearen Klee,
in einem haltlos ungereimten Gedichte?
Oder liest Du am Ende gar keine Zeitungsberichte?
Wann fängst Du wieder an zu dichten, G.G.?
Wann schenkst Du uns wieder einen lyrischen Dreh,
um zu sagen, was gesagt werden muss,
jedes Wort ein Hammerschlag, ein treffsichrer Schuss?
Wann hören wir wieder was von Dir, G.G?
Wir wollen Deine Ruhe nicht stören zwischen Luv und Lee.
Wahrscheinlich folgt bald Dein Beweis, dass sich die Erde verbiegt
und Nordkorea eigentlich in Israel liegt.
Ich bin auf und doch schon
noch nicht davon.
Ich soll vertrieben werden
von diesen Erden
zurück ins Meer,
geht es nach denen
die mich ‘ungläubig’ nennen
mich aber nicht kennen,
von diesen, die verrückt spielen,
auf mich zielen
mit ihren Hobbys.
Ich bin auf und doch noch nicht davon,
liege nicht mehr, aber schon aufgestanden,
den Schlüssel in der Hand,
die Schatten schon an der Wand,
die Tür auf schon einen Spalt,
noch ein letzter Halt,
aber doch schon
noch nicht davon.
Ich hab’ einen Schuh schon an einem Fuss,
einen Arm schon in der Jacke,
den Schal um den Hals
(wie eine Schlinge),
aber noch nicht gebunden -
den Weg haben sie noch nicht gefunden.
Ich bin auf, aber doch schon
noch nicht davon.
Soll ich gehen
dass sie mich vertreiben
mit Waffen im Anschlag
und im Kopf die Messer,
ist es da nicht besser,
zu gehen auf & davon?
Ist das die Saat,
und die Tat
erster Tinte schreiben,
um zu bleiben,
um zu bestehen,
an schießende Mädchen
zwischen den Berliner Stelen,
deren Schüsse mich nicht verfehlen
Die Saite ist gespannt,
aber nicht gestimmt.
Die Seite ist gelesen,
aber noch nicht umgeblättert.
Der Countdown erst bei Drei
und noch nicht vorbei,
doch die Wunde blutet schon unterm Verband
der deutschen Demokratie,
der letzten Hand
des verwehenden Atems auf der Zielgeraden
Ich bin auf, aber doch schon
noch nicht davon.
Die Welle sieht das Ufer schon,
aber sie kann noch nicht brechen.
Noch kein Flammenmeer auch,
aber schon genügend Rauch.
Die Glocken schwingen,
die Scharniere singen,
doch es gibt noch kein Läuten dabei -
wie war das noch: Arbeit macht frei.
Ich werde ihnen
nicht das Feld überlassen,
meiner, unserer Verwesung,
nicht ihrem Zynismus,
nicht ihrer Scheinheiligkeit,
nicht ihren Schatten der Zeit,
nicht ihrer Dummheit
noch ist es nicht soweit,
aber merkt euch:
Wir sind auf, aber längst nicht davon,
auf und nicht davon.