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.