There's No Place Like Home

In order to better understand and appreciate my experience this past year, I needed time to sort out my feelings and think about next steps. My time working abroad in Ukraine and Ethiopia provided a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn about global Jewish life and responsibility. I walked away from the fellowship a more committed, patient and compassionate professional and human being.

I read a quote yesterday by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin in front of Central Synagogue in New York. It said, “We are not human beings on a spiritual journey. We are spiritual beings on a human journey.” My mission often felt that way, touching me when I least expected it.

When I close my eyes, I remember the people I met along the way. Each face reminds me of a story, some funny, heartwarming and full of hope and others filled with deep despair and hardship. Thoughts of the lonely, elderly Jews in Dnepropetrovsk and desperate mothers or sick children in Gondar disturb me when I am awake and when I sleep. Here at home, I hope I can serve as a voice for those who don’t have one.

There is truly no place like home and returning to the luxuries of my life – family, friends, electricity and water – made me feel like the luckiest person in the world. So, it didn’t take long for me to find a way to continuing giving back and stay connected to JDC’s work abroad.

Clean water became very important to me in both Ukraine and Ethiopia where water is contaminated. In Ukraine, the water is tainted by toxic chemicals spilled into rivers by factories. In Ethiopia, a country of 80 million, only 22% of the population has access to a safe water source and 90% of all preventable disease is caused by water-borne illness. Adults and children still die needlessly from diarrhea and malaria.

Until I lived in Ethiopia, it was hard to imagine such conditions still exist. I met women who walk 10 miles back and forth everyday to the nearest tap to bring clean water home for their families for drinking, cooking and personal hygiene. At schools, children drink from muddy puddles that they share with livestock.

The American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee/JDC has provided clean water for 25-years in Ethiopia through hand-dug wells and protected natural springs. JDC professionals, local government and community members have already partnered to develop nearly 100 projects. One hand-dug well costs $6,000 and provides a lifetime of safe and reliable water for hundreds of families living in remote villages. The results, which I have seen with my own eyes, are truly life-changing.

Over the year, so many of you asked what you can do to help. I hope you will be inspired to join me and my husband Jonathan in our commitment to bring clean water to remote villages in Ethiopia. This is a great way to make a difference that will last a lifetime.

Through the Sisisky-Salky & Friends of Ethiopia Water Project, Jonathan and I aim to raise $6,000 to complete one communal well but we need your help! Please consider making a donation in any amount to help us reach our goal. In addition, Jonathan and I will match 50 cents for every dollar of the first $4,000 dollars raised.

Donating is simple, easy and tax-deductible. Click here to donate safely and securely online at the JDC website or send a check payable to JDC at:

JDC
Attention: Zhanna Veyts – Ethiopia Well Project
711 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10017-4014

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel once said, “Pray as if everything depends on God but act as if everything depends on you.” I carried this quote with me during this year; it is a spot-on summation of the passion and commitment of JDC work around the world.

Thank you for allowing me to share this experience with you. And, before I sign off for the last time, I’ll look forward to sharing updates on the Ethiopia Water Project!

Adieu, Addis

I’m wondering where the time went. On Sunday, I will fly to Budapest for a week to visit JDC programs and then head home to complete the last few weeks of my fellowship in New York . I am often asked, “what will you do back in the real world?” Frankly, I don’t know. But, I’m sure it will be a lot easier to figure out with electricity and a hot shower.

Before focusing on the “next,” I am trying to savor my last week here in Addis. I plan to enjoy my last caramel macchiato at Kaldi’s Coffee, a knock-off of Starbucks down to the green aprons and tall frappacino. Last week, my brother Zach and sister-in-law Clare visited. We travelled to Bahir Dar on Lake Tana to the Blue Nile, the source of the Nile River . We ate too much injera, listened to Ethiopian jazz from the 1950’s and tried chewing chat. Chat is a natural, very mild and legal (yes, mom) stimulant. Grown locally and widely exported throughout African and the Arabian peninsula , it is purchased in bags that look like pre-washed mixed lettuce. During a typical chat ceremony, one chews the leaves into a pulp swallowing only the bitter juice over the course of several hours. Truthfully, it wasn’t worth the effort and the local St George brew is a better choice which Lonely Planet seconds.

We also visited the Yeka Terara Elementary School in Addis. JDC provided funds for the school to construct a new eight-room building, chairs/desks, blackboards, materials, clean water drinking taps and latrines. Before expansion, students were turned away, forced to attend schools outside their village area or were crowded into classes with up to 90 other students in either morning or afternoon shifts for grades 1-6. Now, students enjoy a full-day of school with just 50 students per class and attend through grade 8. We met with Yeka’s teachers and principle to gain insight into Ethiopia ’s educational system and understand the challenges they face, some of which are similar to our own.

We made a brief stop at the Mother Teresa Clinic too. I am pleased to report that Mohammed, the little boy I wrote about in an early entry, was successfully treated for Hodgkin’s Disease and finished his chemotherapy. He presented at the clinic with a disfiguring growth on his face the size of a bowling ball (he is 10 years old); today there is not trace of the tumor and he was busy playing soccer in the courtyard with his friends when we arrived. Sadly, though, another young patient was diagnosed with bone cancer and required a leg amputation. The surgery was performed under local anesthetic (general was not available) using a hand saw at the hospital where electricity went in-and-out during the procedure; a nurse sat nearby taking the boy’s blood pressure by hand every few minutes since there was no machine. The state of affairs from a medical perspective is one of the worst in the world. Ethiopia has 2,000 doctors in a country of nearly 80 million; that’s just one doctor for every 40,000 people.

Ethiopia changed my picture of the real world. So did Ukraine . Elderly Jews who are forced to choose between food and medicine and street children who bathe in the gutter are now memories of my real world. I hope I am able to find a way to make these experiences drive my everyday life at home and work. As Lionel Shriver wrote in her novel, the post birthday world, “some years thanksgiving arrives in the lowercase, in July.” When I return to New York later this summer, I will celebrate thanksgiving for this incredible opportunity that expanded the boundaries of my real world.

More Photos

Spice stall at the merkado.



Castle in Gondar.



Well project.

From the Piazza to Church and Back

At first I thought I had writer’s block only to realize it was quite the opposite. So much happened in the last few weeks, I’ve barely a moment to process much less write about it. It all began last month with a trip to Italy to a) meet my mom b) eat my body weight in pizza and c) research materials for my project. As it happens, JDC has a small office in Rome which served as an important base for the organization since the resettlement of Jews after World War II. This hub also witnessed the mass exodus of 250,000 Russian Jews over the course of twenty years. Smaller populations from Albania , Libya and Iran also made their way through Italy , one of the busiest Jewish transit sites in Europe along with Austria and Germany .

Today, there are some 13,000 Jews living in Rome who belong to one of the twelve orthodox synagogues. Jews settled in Italy before the destruction of the first Temple and continue to don their traditional roles of shopkeepers and peddlers in a largely lower-middle class workforce. The Roman philanthropic culture does not compare to what we know in the United States and fundraising efforts in the community are limited. Instead, the Jewish community has a self-imposed tax on members to help support communal institutions. In addition, JDC provides funding for the cultural center at the old orphanage and a community center with familiar programs like youth and the elderly.

After my fair share of work, pasta and sightseeing, I headed back to Ethiopia to greet my husband Jonathan who spent the last ten days here. Shocked by my living conditions, he compared it to his college fraternity house, only worse. We took the opportunity to get out of town and made three small trips. The first was to Gondar where I was able to show him the meat and potatoes of JDC’s work in Ethiopia which I have described to you in past entries.

One new project on the horizon worth noting is a small-scale irrigation program in Dembya woreda (region) that will provide rural farmers with limited capacity, diesel hand pumps, improved seeds and agricultural tools in order to increase farming production aggravated by lack of water and drought. This woreda currently has the least amount of water coverage in the region with only 8% potable water compared to the best coverage at 40% in Worega and Dabat woreadas. Farmers rely on rainfall, limited river water or make-shift surface irrigation pumps and rudimentary wells for farming, all of which fall short of the water demand. It is estimated that a farmer’s production would be increased by 50% during the farming season and by 100% in non-farming, dry seasons. Irrigation pumps allow farmers to cultivate the land year-round and produce additional sources of income such as cabbage, onions and tomatoes in the off-season when the land is not worked.

Our second excursion was to Lalibela in the Lasta Mountains and commonly referred as the Ethiopian “ Petra .” This isolated, ancient city is built into the mountainside and boasts eleven medieval rock-hewn churches built in the 12th century which are all carved below ground level (some more than 10 meters high). The city itself is a World Heritage site and is considered one of the greatest religious and historical in the Christian world; thousands of pilgrims make their way here each year to celebrate Christmas and other festivals, more than doubling the population for weeks at a time. Besides visiting the churches, there is nothing else to do in Lalibela except talk to the locals and drink their famous Tej, home-brewed honey wine, at the one bar. The only foreigners, we joined the group around a horseshoe table enjoying the traditional local entertainment, a singing comedian who goes around the room making fun of customers through impromptu lyrics. As the only farengees, you can imagine how he idled on us!

After making it back to Addis Ababa in one piece, we took a much needed vacation and checked into the Sheraton for a long-weekend. Air-conditioning, electricity, running water and room service… what more could a girl ask for? Oh, a copy of the Sex and the City movie I bought on the street for $2. It was perfect.

School and Clean Water Development Projects

Grade 8 Final Exams


Current School Water Source for Washing and Drinking


JDC Clean Water Development Project Behind School


Testing the Water

Who Said Don't Talk to Strangers (aka Sorry, Mom)

A new life is beginning to shape for me as I settle into the city and make friends. The African Union headquarters are in Addis Ababa as well as hundreds of international embassies, government offices and nonprofit organizations such as UNICEF, USAID, Save the Children, the Red Cross and Clinton Foundation. I heard that there are an estimated 50,000 foreign workers in Addis making it a much more sociable place to meet an eclectic group of friends compared to Dnepropetrovsk. I imagine Kiev would have been similar but my small town in eastern Ukraine was rather homogeneous and closed to outsiders, perhaps a remnant of the Soviet-era.

In Ethiopia, white foreigners are despairingly, yet harmlessly, referred to as “farenges,” pronounced fah-ren-geez. Walking down the street or even passing by in a car someone inevitably yells, “look farenges!” and everyone turns around to stare. Less often, though not uncommon, is the “f-ck you, farenges.” I haven’t quite figured this one out. It’s usually followed by the foul-mouth assailant approaching you to ask where you’re from or offer a marriage proposal or discounted shoeshine. It’s a head-scratcher. I tell them, in the United States this is the wrong foot to get off on when trying to make new friends; its just not good customer service!

My closest Ethiopian friend is in Ghana for several weeks accompanying a group of Mother Teresa clinic spine patients awaiting surgery. Luckily, I met a great group of foreign friends and we are exploring the nightlife (live jazz bars to theatre) in Addis together. One is law professor at Addis Ababa University, another an English teacher, a missionary, one working for a major United States foundation and nine medical students from San Antonio of whom I’ve become especially fond. We spent a day together earlier this week sightseeing, shopping and hiking through the mountains at Entoto National Park. I am now a certified hypochondriac; fortunately they’re stocked with plenty of hand sanitizers and drugs.

The one thing many of my new friends have in common is that they are devout Christians. They attend church every Sunday and share a loosely defined set of conservative principles that are relatively unknown to me at home. For instance, one friend generally avoids R-rated movies largely due to what she describes as gratuitous violence. This was the topic of conversation last night at dinner. At first, I sat through the discussion without a peep not believing she was serious. Having lived in Los Angeles and with a brother-in-law who is a filmmaker, it didn’t occur to me that people might feel this way, at least not anymore. I was quickly amazed at her passion for the issue and her solid arguments (although of course, I disagreed).

Having lived in New York City for nearly seven years now, I guess my southern roots have all but been abandoned for more liberal Jewish thinking, sometimes making me feel like the odd-man out; I didn’t expect that here. Many of my friends have worked in Ethiopia for years. Their commitment, intellect and compassion are powerful and I believe there is a lot we can learn from each other. Besides being farenges, and whether we are Christians or Jews, in our hearts we are here for the same reasons and that makes us more the same than different. Strangers really do make the best friends.

Empowering Women and Educating Families

As you know, I like to write in the dark. It helps pass the long nights without electricity which are now every other day. Ethiopia relies on hydroelectric power and without rain during the short rainy season, we find ourselves in this dim predicament. Today, though, I am writing from the well-lit and air-conditioned Sheraton lobby sipping a glass of white wine and considering how many bar snacks I can reasonably fold into a napkin for later. I already have a muffin and two imported Red Delicious apples in my purse.

I found my middle-ground since I last wrote: laps at the hotel pool followed by the city’s only veggie burger. This is it. The one place that lets me pretend I haven’t just seen what I did. The place that lets me forget that rat running across my foot on a home visit to a client in her mud hut. It is the place where I try to erase memories of sick children with curable disease who will die because they are poor; where I put overwhelming poverty in a box. Even with this retreat, I still often go home and cry. My emotions are not my own in Ethiopia .

Last week was spent with a small delegation of Board members from Italy ’s Rita Levi Montalcini foundation. Montalcini, the 99-year old Nobel Peace Prize recipient used her prize money to establish a foundation dedicated to empowering African women through education. The foundation grants JDC funds to maintain full-ride scholarships each year for 15 girls from no or low income rural families to attend the four-year college at Unity University College (UUC) in Addis. Because they have a harder adjustment than most students, “Project for the Future” also includes a one-year preparatory program that helps the girls catch up with their classmates in English (all university classes are taught in English in the country), math and science.

I had lunch with three recent graduates. One is a nurse, another in marketing and the third in government. From large families with up to ten siblings, some also orphaned, these young women were the first in their family to attend college. Now employed, they are the primary bread-winners in their family. They invited their younger and older siblings to live with them in Addis; they are paying for their tuition in order to provide them with the same educational opportunities they were afforded in hopes of creating a better future for their families.

Ethiopian girls make up less than 25% of students in higher education because they marry early and almost always have more difficult economic situations than their male counterparts. Also, they receive less than 10% of government scholarships, making this program even more important. UUC does its part by ensuring an even male to female student body (out of 8,000 undergraduate/graduate students) and assigning a special “Project for the Future” office to work with our girls.

It is often said that when you educate a woman, you educate an entire family. This couldn’t be closer to the truth. It is one of the most beautiful projects here - full of optimism and another escape that fills me with hope.

Always Laughing, Always Crying

As some of you know, there was a mini-bus bombing here in Addis last night in which several people were killed and injured. It was not near my home or office and my colleagues and I are safe, only reminded to be careful in these uncertain times. Thank you for your emails and concern.

Although my fellowship is in international Jewish communal service, you might be surprised to know that my project in Ethiopia chronicles JDC’s non-sectarian work in the region. While closely tied to a Jewish agenda to bring the “lost tribe” of Beta Israel Jews to Israel in the last century, the organization has built a wide network and great influence in the northern Gondar region where these Jews once lived, also touching the lives of ordinary Ethiopians. The impact of the work is astounding and embodies the true spirit of tikkun olam, the Jewish obligation to repair the world.




I spent last week in Gondar (with very little electricity or running water) visiting JDC related projects. At the Teda Village Veterinary Clinic, I interviewed four farmers who brought their livestock for life-saving treatment which literally saved their only livelihood. One man walked more than three hours with his cow that developed a deadly bacterial infection from eating poisonous grass, common during this dry season.







In a village neighborhood in Gondar Town , I spoke to women at the community water tap. Lined up waiting to fill jugs with clean water for 10 cents (a deal compared to the 50 cents their neighbors with running water charge), they often came several times a day to bring drinking water for the table, personal hygiene and other domestic purposes. Before the tap, some women walked nearly five miles to the next closest spring or used polluted stream water, a source of serious and potentially fatal health hazards such as malaria and diarrhea.






Thirty minutes outside the main town, we drove to the end of a dirt road followed by another twenty bumpy minutes off-road and a fifteen minute walk to an isolated school in a remote village. The grades 1-2 students beamed with pride showing me their homework in their new mud school built just two months ago. With no elementary facilities nearby, most children might never have attended school, instead becoming the traditional goat herders at age four. More than a dozen children (not in school) walked me back to the car. Most had not seen a white person before; even more amazing, three had never seen a car! As we drove, children rushed from their homes waiving, shouting and running after us.





Those feelings of pure joy though can, in an instant, turn to sadness. Back in town, an overcrowded hospital has a makeshift emergency room in outdoor tents. Patients may wait up to a week to see a doctor, sleeping outside on the ground waiting for their turn. I spent Saturday morning with a 10-year old boy with leukemia in Addis at the Mother Teresa Clinic, another JDC partner. I held his hand while two other volunteers held his arms and legs as a rare (there is one doctor for every 35,000 people) pediatrician administered a spinal tap. We sat with him while he received chemotherapy treatment because his parents, poor peasants from the south, could not afford to be there. He has been living in the clinic for more than six months alone. He is luckier than others. At a public hospital, twenty-five pediatric cancer patients are cramped into three rooms with no drugs and tumors literally bursting from and deforming their small bodies. Wishing I hadn’t come, I wanted to leave but they were so excited to see a foreign visitor, waiving, smiling and eager to practice their English, so I stayed and wound up laughing with them instead of crying.

I am always either laughing or crying, often contrary to what I expect in the situation. It is exhausting and I wonder if there is a middle ground in this beautiful country of the lowest lows and the highest highs. The clinic’s namesake Mother Teresa once said, “Let nothing perturb you, nothing frighten you. All things pass. God does not change. Patience achieves everything.” It is a blessing to meet and work with some of the most caring, dedicated and patient people in the world. I don’t know how they do it.

I Am the Tourist Attraction!

Since I last wrote, I am again without electricity – yesterday in the office and again at home today. And, at dinner last night the power went off during dessert. Nobody flinched. I guess my electrical experiences in Ukraine will come in handier here than I imagined. I purchased an electric torch today which I expect will be worth every penny and already proving to be useful.



In an attempt to explore my new neighborhood, I ventured out for my first walk only to discover I am as much of a tourist attraction for locals as a tourist myself. Walking down the street, I literally stopped traffic and construction on a building. People don’t talk to me (unless they are asking for money) but they do gather around and stare.






I spent today with my new friend Birhanu at the Merkato, the largest market in Africa. We took public transportation, the mini-bus, and walked around the market for hours. I have visited different markets in many countries and have never seen anything like this.

Shoppers can find anything from shoelaces to live chickens. The area where cheese and butter is sold by women was just unbelievable. They themselves hunched down into their products on tiered wooden levels, almost like bunk-beds if you can imagine it.





This week, I also began work on my assignment. I will be writing an in-depth report that chronicles the non-sectarian work at JDC Ethiopia. I will research documents that evidence past projects, collect stories, interview recipients and partners and analyze the impact. By understanding the value of past projects, we can better understand how to move forward and coalesce ideas for future planning. I will spend next week in Gondar, in the north, to examine JDC’s impact in bringing potable water, grinding mills, medical and veterinary clinics, food relief and agricultural development to villages throughout the region.



The good news about being in the dark is that I have plenty of time to blog. The bad news is that internet connections are few and far between and a BIG thank you to Clare for posting these entries. My blog site is blocked and I am unable to post much less send pictures but I'm working on it. Thanks Clare!

From White Nights to Darkness

My first blog entry from Ethiopia was written in the dark. I was quickly introduced to life in Addis Ababa as electricity in the city was rationed on only my second night here. Neighborhoods are divided into grids and 2-3 a week, each grid is without electricity day and night. Ababetch, the house-girl, prepared my dinner and I ate by candlelight in the dining room in my three-bedroom, gated house while she and the guard ate in their small quarters just behind the house. There were torrential thunderstorms with rain, hail and lighting so strong and close the house shook. When I finished dinner, I got into bed and realized it was only 7:15 pm and I had nothing to do in the pitch black with my candle half burned.





So, here I am in the dark writing to you. I spent my first full day touring the city, including the Merkato, the largest market in Africa. It was bustling and people were everywhere! Ethiopia has a population of 78 million of which 4 million officially (unofficially, 6 million) reside in the capital, Addis Ababa. Ethiopia is the sixth poorest country in the world with the average person’s salary at just $150/year. 50% of the population lives below the poverty line; 80% lives on less than $2/day and 23% on less than $1/day. The average lifespan in Ethiopia is 49 years old.



Addis Ababa is divided into three sections: wealthy, middle-class and poor. Most people fall somewhere between very low middle-class and poor. There are men driving Mercedes in business suits next to barefoot boys herding goats down the median strip; donkeys are side-by-side in traffic. There are women wearing designer clothes and stilettos while others in traditional dress are carrying huge loads of firewood on their backs. There are beggars everywhere including unclothed children, war veterans missing limbs and those disfigured by polio pulling themselves through the streets on their hands. The combination of people is mind-boggling.



Early this morning, I awoke to the three dogs (and five cats) that live with me howling to the Muslim call to prayer. Ethiopia, which has always ruled itself except for a very brief invasion by the Italians, was historically Christian (Ethiopia was the second country, after Armenia, to adopt Christianity as an official state religion) until recently when the Muslim population began to swell. The majority of Ethiopians, however, are still religious Christians.



The storm passed since I began to write and now I am listening to the not-so-distant sound of airplanes taking off and landing from the nearby airport in an otherwise quiet city on this dark night. Until next time, meulkam edel as they say in Amharic or, wish me luck!

L'hitraot, Not Goodbye

Yesterday afternoon I returned from Istanbul where I traveled with a friend for a long weekend. We had a great time sightseeing and shopping in the Grand Bazaar. I was ecstatic to discover a Starbucks next to my favorite baklavalari – a tall, non-fat latte never tasted so good (a little piece of heaven after a long five months). Then, we were off to the Hamam. I’d take a Turkish bath over a beating in the Russian banyas any day!

I am so excited to be back in New York one week from today! Still, this is a busy few days with my final fundraising seminar for local Jewish professionals, continued work on the Do Good Ukraine! website and an exam in Russian to complete my language certificate. I am also looking forward to a tour of the matzah factory.

I will be home for three weeks before I begin my second assignment with JDC’s International Development Program which focuses on non-sectarian projects around the globe. These programs are based on the Jewish value of tikkun olam or repairing the world and are rooted in a longstanding tradition of Jewish humanitarianism. I will be based in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia and look forward to sharing more details soon!!

Finally, I was asked by a friend for a list of things I am craving or looking forward to when I get back to New York. As some of you already know, last week I ran out of books, magazines, DVD’s, sudoko and my iPod has been stuck on John Mayer since January.

So, besides that and the obvious (husband, family and friends), here is what I can’t stop thinking about: GOOD food, specifically: veggie burgers, fresh fish, pizza, bagels and cream cheese, Hale & Hearty salads, Swiss cheese, non-fat yogurt and strawberries; Whole Foods; takeout; Law & Order reruns; and, Charmin.

Though, there are always two sides to every coin so I would be remiss in not mentioning what I will miss about life in Ukraine. Those two things are: my driver (I’m chauffeured in a 1986 Mazda 626) and the washing machine in my apartment.

In all seriousness, I built a lovely life in Dnepropetrovsk and leaving such a warm Jewish community with wonderful friends and colleagues will be bittersweet. I have no doubt that I will be back again to the city where my great-grandparents were born and where I lived. Until then it is l’hitraot (so long) but not goodbye.

P.S. I hope to write one more blog entry and then will take a short break during April. Please check back in May for my adventures in Ethiopia!

A Purim Schpiel, Ukrainian Style

Today is a beautiful, sunny and warm day in Dnepropetrovsk, a stark contrast to the first four and half months I spent here. It is hard to believe that my assignment ends in less than two weeks! When I first arrived, I would count down the days and weeks that I managed to survive. But, somewhere along the line when life became more ordinary I stopped counting. Only today, I begin again, this time counting down.

Last week, we celebrated the Jewish holiday of Purim. This is a familiar Jewish holiday that goes something like this: someone tried to kill us, we triumphed, let’s eat! The Purim story is recounted in the biblical Book of Esther known as the megillah and to hear it read publicly is a mitzvah.

I attended the megillah reading with nearly 2,000 people at the circus (while enjoying popcorn which is totally un-Purim, only circus related). The next day, the Hesed Welfare Center showcased the talents of their elderly and disabled clients in a Purim schpiel. I attended a second schpiel on Sunday sponsored by the Jewish Community Center where hundreds of young Jewish families celebrated together.

I loved the production at the Hesed and included a picture of the 82-year old woman who stole the show with her song and dance. Most Hesed clients grew up during the Soviet era which forbade them from practicing their Judaism. Today’s freedom allows them the chance to express themselves spiritually, making this schpiel as miraculous as the story of Purim itself. Providing opportunities like this one that allows Jews to live Jewish lives is at the heart of JDC work around the world.

What I love most about celebrating the holidays is always finding a welcoming home or community with whom to celebrate no matter where I am in the world; New York City and Dnepropetrovsk have this warmth in common. While that may be all they have in common, it is enough to have made this my home away from home. Though, Chinese food delivery would have gone a long way too.

The Family that Shops Together, Stays Together

In the mid-1800’s, my maternal great-great-grandparents were born in a Russian shtetl outside Ekaterinoslav, now Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine. After they married, they moved into the city where Sima, the eldest of their eight children, was born. Sima married Hillel Shleifman who owned two successful furniture companies in Ekaterinoslav. After the Revolution, he sold his business and opened a kosher bakery where he worked until the day after Shavuot in May 1921 when he, Sima and their children began their long journey to the United States. Finally settling in Portland, Oregon, their youngest child, my grandmother, was born.

Jews settled in Ekaterinoslav-Dnepropetrovsk since the founding of the city in 1776. In the late 18th Century, more than 300 Jews lived here and that number continued to grow. By the time my great-grandparents were born, the city was nearly 40% Jewish and a quarter of all businesses were owned by Jewish entrepreneurs which brings me back to the furniture store.

During the Revolution and World Wars, most of the city’s documents were destroyed in looting and fires. Dnepropetrovsk, in particular, has very limited records but that did not stop my colleagues at the Tkuma Center for Holocaust Studies from digging a little deeper to help me learn more about my family’s life here.

I am holding a copy of page 287 of the Ekaterinoslav "Yellow Pages" from 1913 which lists my great-grandfather Hillel Shleifman and his two stores at Trotsky Bazaar (booth 88) and Ozerka Bazaar listed under furniture. Not only are both bazaars still in use today but they are where I shop, only minutes from my apartment.

As I haggled a babushka over the price of onions last weekend at Ozerka, I wondered if my great-grandmother had the same favorite honey vendor or if my great-grandfather was friendly with the father of the old man who sells me walnuts, carrying on his family tradition. When I walk through the market now it seems magical (before it was just dirty). In spite of everything, it appears that I was meant, at one time or another, to buy my groceries at Ozerka. Discovering my family roots and then literally living in their shadows has been extraordinary, making my experience in Ukraine even more meaningful.

So Much to Do, So Little Time

Recently, I wondered if maybe I wasn’t taking full advantage of the city so I decided to plan some local excursions. Since I had already been bowling and ice fishing (which I shouldn't have done in heels), that left me with three options: the opera, art museum and circus.

I went to the opera to see Rigoletto with a colleague who was in town. Not knowing the story, it went something like this: there is a prince who has many women in his court but falls in love with an outsider. There is a hunchback man who maybe works for the prince and, eventually, this woman, who is dressed as a man, dies. I think. Between each 20-minute act, there was a 15-minute intermission so the set could be changed. This turned out to be a very long three hour performance. At least we did not check our coats since the theatre was not heated.

The cold theatre is a perfect segue to the freezing art museum. I was with Jonathan and a friend. We asked the coat-check lady if it was warm enough throughout or should we keep our jackets. After a cruel stare down, we checked the coats, which was a big mistake. We purchased our tickets for 8 UAH (about $1.60) and were set to begin our self-guided tour. First, we surrendered our tickets to the ticket-collector who also happened to be the woman who sold us the ticket. Here is how that worked: I gave her money, she gave me the tickets and then I gave them right back to her.

In addition to being cold, there was only electricity upon request. So, as we entered each room, we asked the proctor to open the lights which were promptly extinguished upon our exit. When I decided to skip one exhibit by a local artist, I was chastised in incomprehensible Russian by the docent and followed back to complete the full retrospective before I was allowed into the next room. The whole tour took about 20-minutes (we walked slowly) and we were the only visitors.

Yesterday, I made it to the circus despite my long held beliefs against the institution, but when in Rome. The circus, not far from my office, is a permanent tented building with performances every Saturday and Sunday. The greatest show on earth featured the traveling Moscow Circus. The cast of usual suspects like clowns, acrobats, panthers, cheetahs, hula-hoops set ablaze and trapeze artists dressed as Buddhist monks were quite entertaining. I also enjoyed the fresh popcorn and cotton candy, only $1 each, which is the second best deal in town after the $.80 Stella Artois sold on the streets.

After listening to an elephant play the harmonica accompanied by Jon Bon Jovi’s “I want to live forever,” I decided that my mission was complete. Now, I just need to decide what to do next weekend.

No Chicken Kiev in Kiev for this Vegetarian

Because cars are allowed to drive on sidewalks, navigating Kiev on foot was perilous at best but not impossible. One rule of thumb will get you around: beware, pedestrians never have the right of way! Otherwise, my long weekend in the capital city with Jonathan was a real treat that included magnificent views, English speakers and good food, for a change.

We spent half a day at the city’s most well-known site, the Kiev-Pechersk Lavra. The Lavra is a series of intimate streets that make up this Ukrainian Orthodox monastery which feels like a small city in and of itself. It is the preeminent center of Christian orthodoxy in Eastern Europe and was founded in the early 11th century. Unfortunately, nothing was written in English and our guidebook didn’t provide much more. In my broken Russian, I managed to exchange a few words with a monk who apparently mistook us for pilgrims (as opposed to tourists, a big difference which my language skills did not decipher) and helped arrange a special tour reserved for the most devout. Oops.

We spent several hours with a guide from the nunnery who was on to us when she realized we were not baptized. Still, she allowed us this profound opportunity to learn about the religious and spiritual life of nearly half of my Ukrainian neighbors. The main attraction at the monastery are the historic caves, a complex system of underground corridors, working churches and nearly 100 catacombs of saints where the pious arrive from around the world seeking favor and blessings. It is said that their “holy and corrupted” bodies were preserved through miracles; you can view their clothed remains and exposed hands through glass coffins using light from small candles purchased at the entrance.

Of course, we also made several Jewish site visits including to the Hesed Welfare Center which serves more than 14,000 elderly and at-risk clients in the city compared with the several thousand in Dnepropetrovsk. Our Jewish tour ended on a sobering note at Babi Yar, a ravine in the city center where during the course of two days, September 29-30, 1941, the Nazis murdered 33,771 Jews, the single largest massacre during the Holocaust. In the months that followed, more than 100,000 people from Ukraine, mostly Jews, were also murdered at this site. The large menorah monument presented on the 50th anniversary of the massacre is a reminder of the city’s grisly history; and, just across from the memorial children played soccer and went sledding without a care in the world.

Делай добро- Украина or Do Good Ukraine!

I am back to the blog and from my brief hiatus in Israel! I spent time getting to know my colleagues at JDC, visited with my family, got a much needed haircut and pretty much ate everything in sight, although I swore off potatoes and cabbage for the week. I had hoped for warm weather but instead it snowed in Jerusalem and there were 60 mile per hour winds in Tel Aviv… so much for sunny skies. At least I had one beautiful afternoon at the beach when I arrived (above). Three falafels, two pounds of hummus and a ton of tabuleh later, I’m back in Ukraine which is, ironically, warmer than Israel.

I was there to meet with colleagues and other Israelis interested in my Fellowship project to solicit their advice, expertise and present funding opportunities. The project is called Делай добро- Украина (Do Good Ukraine!) and is a web-based program designed to connect nonprofit organizations and individuals with volunteer opportunities. The website will feature a live forum that allows organizations to post opportunities with real-time and immediate responses from individuals. The goals of the project are to: nurture a culture of volunteerism; create a network to manage volunteer needs using existing local systems; increase volunteer activity beginning in two pilot communities; assist organizations to attract volunteers; involve businesses with an interest in social responsibility; and, establish and infrastructure for a wide-scale national program.

This project is the first of its kind in Ukraine, a country that has a short history of volunteerism. For this reason, the program will also offer online resources and in-person training for both organizations and volunteers to make the most of their experience together. Development of the voluntary sector is a critical factor in strengthening local resources in order to assume responsibility for the unmet social and welfare needs in the community.

As a community-based project, we involved both Jewish and non-Jewish partners. Improved partnerships with other, mostly non-Jewish, organizations benefit the Jewish community in many ways. For instance, a Jewish organization that does not have HIV/AIDS or deaf-related services can refer clients to another organization through this coalition and vice versa. We hope to see the capacity and self-sufficiency of Jewish organizations grow through increased volunteerism and peer partnerships. I will look forward to sharing the website, which will be in both Russian and English, as soon as it goes live in the next month.

And, today is Jonathan’s 32nd birthday so please wish him a very happy birthday and buy him a drink (or dinner, we still don’t have a stove in the new apartment) for me if you’re in New York!! Happy birthday, Jonathan!

So, I Drank the Kool-Aid

Life in Ukraine is becoming increasingly natural for me as everyday routines are established and mature. Strange, n’est pas? I live in Ukraine and it feels normal. Allow me to illustrate a few standards that are no longer remarkable for me:

• Toilet paper is BYO
• Postcards are not sold anywhere in Dnepropetrovsk
• A thong leotard is acceptable at the gym & preferred in animal print
• Queuing-up in a mysterious line
• Over-the-knee boots, fishnets & a micro-mini are work appropriate
• Brown water
• Wallpaper with glitter
• Wearing the exact same outfit to work all week
• Excitement around the grand opening of TGI Friday’s
• Greek salads garnished with tongue or dollop of lard

I was brought back to reality yesterday afternoon when I realized I was conducting business in the dark… literally. At first, I didn’t think anything of it because most companies do not turn on the lights until it is absolutely necessary once the sun sets. This is jokingly referred to here as “economy” or the practice of pinching pennies. For example, I share my office with four colleagues who politely ask each other permission before turning on the overhead lights.

But, yesterday was different. I was offsite in several early evening meetings which were conducted in absolute darkness and nobody thought it was strange; it wasn’t even mentioned. As it turned out, there was a blackout. During the blackout in New York, we left work early, drank warm beers for 25 cents and picnicked outside with friends. Here, its business as usual which unsympathetically highlights times past in Ukraine.

For many Ukrainians, life is still hard. I have neighbors who live without running water or electricity. At the same time, neighbors on the other side live lavishly even by American standards with indoor swimming pools and Land Rovers. The juxtaposition of rich and poor underscores the challenges and opportunities facing Ukraine as a developing nation. As shopping malls replace Soviet-era bazaars and sushi meets borscht head-on, history is in the making! I am honored to take part, even if it means drinking the Kool-Aid and queuing up in a leotard (okay, maybe not in the leotard).

There's Nothing Like a Good Shvitz

While the memory/nightmare is still lurid, I thought I'd take this opportunity to tell you about my most recent excursion to the Russian bathhouse. I wish I had taken a picture but I was so traumatized by the experience I missed the chance to immortalize my terror on film.

It started off on the right foot. I had been waiting to spend an afternoon at the legendary (well, at least in Dnepropetrovsk) Tsunami spa. My husband Jonathan was here for the week and I figured this was a good time to bring out the big guns and really show him what living large was all about in Ukraine.

There is an entrance fee to use the facility and “administration” scanned our bracelets each time we ordered a service, some of which cost extra. The carte du jour was endless… honey scrubs, Japanese soaks, milk and champagne baths, Turkish massage, aromatherapy hot tubs, plunge pools and more. We eased into it with an hour long foot massage while swinging from a hammock seat in the dark. I think it was the new age music and nature scenes on the big screen that put Jonathan to sleep so I let him choose the next service; we were off for a sauna!

The choices of saunas were equally diverse, offering both wet (steam) and dry. We opted for the traditional Russian banyas which involves steam, heat, cold and an “invigorating beating” with a venik or broom made of birch branches and leaves where the heat is gathered. The sauna reaches 60% humidity and 180 degrees Fahrenheit. I like to refer to this portion of the afternoon as hell. For roughly 6 minutes and $7, a short, hairless (and sometimes naked) Russian man with a pointy felt hat did the following to me:

• prepared a herbal foot soak for me, why I don't know
• escorted me into the sauna and laid me face down on the top bench
• Flogged me with the birch broom (the “invigorating beating”)
• pressed and held the heated broom to all areas of my body

I stopped him before he had a chance to get to my arms because I couldn't take another minute. I had reached my maximum pain and sweat thresh hold. I could barely stand and he basically had to carry me out. He threw me in the shower and washed off the leaves. My head was spinning and I was overjoyed to be done but was instead guided to a small room with a snow making machine. It was -7 degrees Celsius, snowing and I was barefoot in a bathing suit. The little man rubbed snow all over my body but I was happy as a clam to be out of that sauna. Next, he eased me into a freezing cold plunge pool and that’s where things took a turn for the worse. I could not breathe and I’m pretty sure my heart stopped beating for at least three seconds. Jonathan spent the next 15 minutes trying to keep me from hyperventilating.

The banyas are a timeless Russian tradition; there is evidence of their existence on the vast territories occupied by the Slavic people before the creation of the Russian states. The word banyas derives from the Latin balneum which means to “chase out pain.” Health benefits including improved blood circulation, eliminating toxins from the body and an increase in oxygen levels, metabolism, red blood cells and haemoglobin count have been subject to centuries of debate including by Aristotle and Hypocrites. Traditionally the banyas were a means for all Russians, from Tzars to peasants, to cleanse themselves and remains popular today for family fun and relaxation.

Personally, I didn’t feel quite right again until the next day but plenty of water and a glass of wine helped. Participating in this unique Russian tradition was unforgettable and I recommend it to anyone who doesn’t mind being sweaty, light-headed or those who have more courage than this pampered, Bliss Spa (Elizabeth Arden in a pinch) going New Yorker.

Holiday Bargains: World Peace Just $12

These days, $12 doesn't buy you much in New York City. You might go to the movies alone, take a friend to Starbucks for a latte or have six cupcakes at Magnolia's. In Ukraine, though, $12 will buy you a roundtrip ticket to Hadiach, a spiritual journey to the grave of the Alter Rebbe, possibly a miracle, a bottomless cup of hot tea and all the fish stew and beet salad your heart desires. The only thing that's not included is toilet paper, but that's par for the course here.

For $12, I thought hey... why not? We left after sunrise on an unusually sunny albeit freezing day, a mere -18 degrees Celsius. My only complaint was the hole in the baseboard of the van that left us all paralyzed by the cold. Two pairs of pantyhose, three pairs of socks and fur-lined boots still left me unable to feel my toes at press time.

I had a lot of time to think since the trip was 13 hours and 47 minutes from beginning to end. Last night, I had never even heard of the Alter Rebbe and suddenly I found myself in a van full of women from Chabad humming niguns. Luckily, I was seated next to a lovely young woman, a shaliach (Chabad emissary) from Israel who showed me the ropes.

The Alter Rebbe is Shneur Zalman of Liadi born September 4, 1745. He was an Orthodox rabbi, the founder and first rebbe of Chabad, a branch of Hasidic Judaism. The Alter Rebbe was descended from a family of mystics and philosophers. He is well known as the youngest disciple of Rabbi Dovber of Mezeritch, the "Great Maggid," who was in turn the successor of Rabbi Yisroel ben Eliezer, known as the Baal Shem Tov. Early in life he distinguished himself as a Talmud scholar and at age twelve was sent home by teachers who said he no longer needed their aid.

The Alter Rebbe went on to become the leader of Hassidism in 1788. He worked to place Hasidism and Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) on a rational basis defining his approach in his greatest work Tanya, "mind ruling over the heart." He chose the name Chabad for his philosophy, a Hebrew acronym for CHochma (wisdom), Bina (understanding) and Da'at (knowledge). He is perhaps though most famous for his work Shulchan Aruch HaRav, the "Code of Jewish Law by the Rabbi," used today by Hasidim as their basis for daily practice.

When the Alter Rebbe died in 1812, he was succeeded by his son, followed by his grandson, and so on; there were seven Rebbes of Lubavitch total, the final, and perhaps most well-known, the Alter Rebbe's great-great-great-great grandson, Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneersohn. By then, Chabad headquarters was moved to Crown Heights in Brooklyn where Rabbi Schneersohn was recognized for his efforts to expand Chabad around the world. Since his death in 1994, there has been speculation that either he was the messiah, will return as the messiah or did not actually die but is in hiding.

The Alter Rebbe, though, did die exactly 196 years ago today making my trek today part of a larger Hasidic pilgrimage. Hundreds of visitors, including myself, offered their blessings and asked the Rebbe for a miracle. I had heard about this before: single women asking to find a match or infertile couples asking for children. Everyone on the bus had a story about a miracle they had witnessed or heard; be careful what you wish for, they warned!

The prayers are written on pieces of white, unlined paper. My new friend helped me begin by adding the necessary Hebrew blessings praising God at the top of the page which, apparently, puts the Rebbe in the right "mood" to make things happen. It is followed by one's personal, spiritual and material hopes and dreams. Next, you enter the room with the grave, light a candle and pray. At the right moment, you literally shred your prayers and offer them to the Rebbe by scattering the pieces atop his tomb. Then, you can warm up with tea and fish stew while you wait for everyone else to finish.

I'm not exactly sure what happened to me today but I definitely returned feeling energized and uplifted. For good measure, I added prayers for world peace and an end to poverty, hunger, disease and war so we'll see what happens.

Keep your fingers crossed.