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Dangerous Territory	By : Rhov Category: +. to F > Attack on Titan /Shingeki No Kyojin Views: 4227 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own “Shingeki no Kyojin” and do not make money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7
The Lost Women in Our Lives

Eren was once again by the river watching the Jews bathe. It was quieter this time. He and Levi did not speak to one another. All the men in his platoon were visibly more uneasy about this. It was now common knowledge that one Jew had escaped, and the soldier who had been in charge was found “drunk.” He swore he had not drank anything at all; he had felt dizzy, and then he woke up to discover that the Jew he was supposed to be watching as she scrubbed laundry was missing.
Eren had a bad feeling that the poor young man had been drugged. Levi said he knew nothing of it, but his attempted escape, only to return, made Eren suspicious that either Levi had something to do with it, or he realized the woman had escaped and knew his opportunity was ruined. A few questions to young soldiers placed carefully over beers revealed that Isabel had escaped long before Eren found Levi missing, so that meant he did not help her.
So then how did Levi find out before any of the regular soldiers knew? How did he know his opportunity to flee was badly timed? If he had helped her, he would have fled as well.
The only explanation Eren could come up with was that Levi met up with the person—or people—who helped the girl to escape. When Eren overheard Kitz growl that this particular Jewish woman was the wife of an Allied soldier with ties to the French Resistance, Eren saw the connection. They were in a city once controlled by the Resistance. It could be that the whole group of Jews were going to be sneaked out of France specifically to get that one woman out. When they could not have her blend in with a crowd, the Resistance sent some specialist, someone good enough to drug a German soldier and make it look like he got drunk, to get her out.
That meant the Resistance was still around. Levi was shrewd with a militant mind, so Eren was convinced he knew what was really going on.
If he had met with someone from the Resistance, did that mean he was next on their list of people to free? Would France go that far for some unimportant Jew? Or was Levi actually fairly important? He said he had been a soldier, an assassin used by the military for sensitive operations. Maybe the Free France Forces wanted him, maybe even to send him against Hitler himself. Others had tried to assassinate the Führer and failed. Did the Allies want to make a statement by sending a Jew to kill the man who had murdered so many Jews?
He did not blame his men for being on edge. He doubted any of them had figured all of this out, since he had not told anyone about Levi being a former soldier—he was positive the Jew would be executed if anyone knew—but maybe they figured out enough, that the “drunk” soldier was a victim of an attack, and that the Resistance was behind it.
Or maybe they were simply spooked by the rumors.
Something was going on, not even Eren knew the full scope, but terrorist attacks were dramatically increasing throughout France. Warehouses, munition supplies, and railroad lines were being blown up. Kitz was on a rampage about the rail lines that prevented new troops, supplies, ammunition, and the much-needed translator. Eren kept the irate captain a little happier by promising that he was learning French from Levi now. That also gave a reason to keep Levi alive. They could not kill him if Eren needed him to learn the language.
Of course, Kitz seemed to think Eren could master the language in a week, whereas the best he knew was how to conjugate a few basic verbs, plus he had memorized simple colors. Every day, Kitz shouted at Eren to learn faster, and his hand drifted to the gun holstered by his side every time he saw Levi, itching to kill him.
The women finished bathing quickly that day. Levi waited until they were out of the river and dressed before removing his clothes and wading out. Eren watched him more than the women. They were clustered and talking in a mix of French and what he guessed was Yiddish. Eren briefly wondered if he could learn Yiddish easier than French.
Of course, that was pointless. How many Jews would he meet while in France? What his platoon needed was someone fluent in the local language.
Eren did not feel the awkwardness of the first time he brought the Jews here to bathe. Maybe it was everything that had happened that week. He had even helped in an operation to repair a tear to Levi’s colon, monitoring the gas that kept Levi asleep through the procedure, and sometimes holding a utensil for the surgeon. Now, as he saw Levi’s backside, he thought darkly of that attack, how horrendous it was, how painful it must have been, how he must still be in pain.
Yet, here he was, bruises still on his body, horrifically tortured over just one week, yet looking like he was as strong as ever.
Eren had to admit, it was admirable.
Jean called out in annoyance, “Beeil’ dich!” Hurry up!
Eren glared over at him. He felt at peace watching Levi bathe.
Levi humphed. “Is that long-faced idiot telling me to hurry?”
“Yes. He’s eager to get back.”
“Like a horse eager to return to the stables. Tell him to go take a long shit. I’ll be done by the time he wipes the crap off his arse.”
Eren burst out in a laugh. Obviously, he could not tell Jean that. “Er entschuldigt sich und sagt, dass er sich beeilen wird.” He apologizes and says he will hurry.
Jean looked satisfied, and Eren was truly glad none of his men spoke English.
Levi sighed as the water rushed past him. He wished he could just float away on this river. He wondered where it went. Probably to the sea. He could float out to the Atlantic, just float along, and maybe he would end up on American shores. He wanted to just flow along with the river…
“Schnell! Beeilung!” Fast! Hurry!
Levi closed his eyes. He could imagine a France without Germans always barking orders, always threatening them, always sneering. He could imagine owning a peaceful vineyard, lazy days strolling the rows, checking the grapes. He liked southern France. He remembered a trip there in his youth.
“Was tut er?” What’s he doing?
Levi opened his eyes and saw blasted stone walls that used to pen sheep. Maybe the sheep fled. Likely, they were all eaten by Germans.
This land was losing so much! Could France even be saved at this point? Could it ever return to being the land he knew and loved?
He turned and walked back to shore before he got into trouble. At least Eren was quietly watching him. Their group headed back, and Eren escorted the Jews to the castle. It was lunchtime, so they got their bowls of soup from the kitchen and settled around a table that had once been used for the castle’s servants.
Eren turned to his men. “You can eat here or elsewhere. Dismissed.”
“The soup actually smells good,” Thomas muttered, edging toward the kitchens and sniffing.
Jean glared at the table full of Jews. “It doesn’t have dog meat, does it?”
“I would say even dog meat is a good treat at this point,” Eren admitted. “Supplies are low. A train was supposed to bring more, but the Resistance blew up the rail line.”
“Damn terrorists,” Jean grumbled. He glanced over at the prisoners eating the soup. “Well, the Jews aren’t dying, so I guess it’s not poisonous. I’m starving!”
Eren went with them to get a bowl of soup. They ate in the main dining hall, a once-glamorous place, now weary from war and dirty from soldiers using the grounds.
“I hope we can stay here,” Franz sighed wistfully.
“Not me,” Jean grumbled, spooning out a massive chunk of sinewy meat. “I want to fight. I miss battle.”
They gradually finished and wandered off, back to duties, patrols, writing letters to home, or off for a smoke and chatting with other soldiers. Eren ate slowly, staring down at his pack thoughtfully.
Finally, Thomas was the last one to go after asking the person who cooked the meal about the meat. (It was horse, apparently.) After they were all gone, Eren stood and walked back over to the servant’s quarters. He heard someone speaking in another language, and as he drew closer, he realized it was not French.
* * *
מְרוֹמָם הוּא אֱלָהִין בְּקַדְמְתָא וּבַתְרָיְתָא
צְבִי וְאִתְרָעִי בָן וּמְסַר לָן אוֹרָיְתָא

Meromam hu Elahin bekadmah uvatraitah
Tzevi veitrei van e umesar lan Oraytah.

God, exalted from beginning to end,
Was pleased with us and gave us the Torah.
* * *
Levi caught sight of Eren and held his hand out. “The Tanakh,” he demanded.
Eren glanced around, but all the Germans were gone. He pulled his pack around and dug the Tanakh out from the bottom. Levi took it, opened to a page, and began to read.
The group gathered around him. Eren leaned in the doorway, listening to the flow of words. He understood none of it, but simply watching Levi brought him a sense of peace.
He remembered when his mother used to read from the Bible to him. Eren had never really paid much attention to the stories, unless they were of battles and warriors. The Gospel … not so interesting. However, the flow of his mother’s soothing voice was something he remembered even a decade later.
The Jews held their little service while Eren basically guarded them. He even left at one point to send a soldier away, so that no one disturbed the meeting. Just as the soldier turned away to obey the frivolous order, Eren heard singing from the kitchen.
* * *
“Hava nagila. Hava nagila.
Hava nagila ve-nismeḥa.
Hava neranenah. Hava neranenah.
Hava neranenah ve-nismeḥa.
Uru, uru aḥim!
Uru aḥim be-lev sameaḥ.
Uru aḥim, uru aḥim!
Be-lev sameaḥ.”

Let’s rejoice. Let’s rejoice.
Let’s rejoice and be happy.
Let’s sing. Let’s sing.
Let’s sing and be happy.
Awake, awake, my brothers!
Awake my brothers with a happy heart.
Awake my brothers, awake my brothers!
With a happy heart.
* * *
The song was joyous and lively, and the Jews began to dance to it. Eren smiled as the Jews celebrated with song. He had never seen them do this, but they looked truly happy. The women smiled as they sang and clapped, the men shone joyfully as they danced in a circle, and even Levi’s eyes gleamed despite the neutral face he kept as he sang with reluctance.
Then Eren heard a noise outside, someone saluting a man of high rank, and he cursed quietly. He could send away common soldiers, but he had less influence over officers. He stepped into the kitchen, and the singing came to a sharp stop.
“I need to escort you below, now!”
Levi translated, and the group hurried. Eren kept an eye on the entrance as he herded the Jews down to the dungeons. Once underneath, Levi held back to stand beside Eren.
“I need to ask a favor,” he whispered. “May I keep my book?”
“It’s dangerous to do so,” Eren warned.
“Only for two days. It’s Shavuot, a holiday for us.”
“A holiday?” Eren said in surprise. “Is that why you were singing? What does it celebrate?”
“The day God gave the Torah to Moses on Mount Sinai.”
“Ah, I remember that story! Den Zehn Gebote.” The Ten Commandments.
“Sure, whatever. We will celebrate however we can, given the circumstances, but reading the Torah during Shavuot is important to the holiday.”
“I understand. You can probably sing down here, but try to keep it quiet.”
“It was nice to sing in the sunlight.” Levi hesitated, but then reluctantly said, “Thank you.”
Eren grinned, feeling oddly warm inside for helping. “Gern geschehen.” You’re welcome.
These people were supposed to be enemies, a scourge on all of Europe, but all Eren saw was a group of people with beliefs different from his own. They read a holy book and sang, just like his mother would do for Christmas.
How different were they, really?
* * *
Eren was probably the only German there who knew this was a special holiday for Jews. The small group worked just as hard, and they were treated just as horribly. Nothing changed.
After dark, Eren would slip away and sneak down to the castle dungeon to listen to singing and to Levi reading until his voice went hoarse.
He looked down at his uniform. What was he fighting for? The glory of Germany! Why did that include exterminating people—men, women, and children—who did nothing wrong? Even if they were a subspecies of humans as German scientists claimed, why was that bad? Were not all humans evolving? If Aryans simply reached the pinnacle of human evolution first, what right did that give them to suppress the ones who developed slower? Would it not be better, more noble and civilized, to support lesser humans in their journey?
Even if they were dumb as animals, who kills a dog merely because it does not think like a man?
Eren shook his head. He did not understand the science behind Übermensch and Untermensch. They were concepts he had been taught in school, but what did they really imply? If they were true, why was killing Jews so important? If the scientists lied, as Levi claimed … were Aryans and Jews really no different?
It was like his childhood was being turned on its head.
On the evening of the second day, after doing his cleaning chores, Levi walked up to Eren while he was smoking and talking with Armin.
“I’m returning the book.”
Armin glanced over. “Was ist los?” What’s happening?
Eren stomped out his cigarette and told Armin, “Es ist nichts Wichtiges. Ich bin gleich wieder da.” It’s nothing important. I’ll be right back.
Eren followed Levi, but the Jew paused at the dungeon entrance.
“Let me go first,” Levi warned. “Roam around until you are certain no one is here. You were watched last time you came to the dungeon to listen to us.”
“Watched?” Eren said in shock.
“A soldier came in right after you left and shouted some things. I don’t know what, but I heard the name Jäger.”
“Verdammt. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be more careful.”
“You better be.”
Levi went down the stairs on his own. Eren drifted off to the kitchens. There was one person there, a local chef cooking stew and looking focused on his work. Two soldiers stood near the entrance smoking and talking about some of the French ladies in town. Eren swept the perimeter but saw no signs of someone spying on him.
He slipped down to the dungeon, where Levi was waiting with the Tanakh in his hands. Eren tucked the book back into his satchel.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, adjusting things in his bag to hide the Hebrew book. “You’re allowed to eat above if you’re watched. We could share a meal. That soup smells good.”
“You could get in trouble.”
“I’ll say I’m on guard duty. Besides, our dinner is over. The soup is meant for officers with big stomachs, and they won’t come here themselves to fetch a bowl. No one will be in the kitchen but the French staff. You’re still recovering. You need something to keep up your strength.”
Levi had to admit, breakfast had been meager and a long time ago. He had eaten nothing since then, working nonstop until dusk. He gave in, and they went back up. Eren got both of them bowls of soup, and he went to a side area of the kitchen, out of sight of anyone casually looking in to see what smelled so good.
Levi dug into the soup immediately. Eren chuckled, but he felt bad for how starved the poor Jew was.
“How is your injury?”
Levi stopped, spoon in mouth, and slowly swallowed. “Healing. I’m still taking castor oil. My shit stinks because of it, and my arse hurts when I sit. I’m not shitting blood anymore, at least.”
“That’s good. I’ll try to get you more medicine, maybe something for the pain.”
“I’m fine,” Levi growled, slurping up more soup.
Eren left back to the kitchen, and a few minutes later he returned with two cups of a dark brown liquid. Levi’s eyes widened as the steaming drink was set in front of him.
“What the hell is that?”
“Muckefuck.”
Levi raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck is muckefuck?”
“It’s coffee, sort of. At least, the army claims it’s a coffee substitute. I’ve never tasted true coffee before, so I can’t judge it.”
Levi accepted the drink, took a sip, and nearly spit it out. “That is not coffee!” He took another taste. “Still, it’s not undrinkable.”
“Coffee is known to help with … um … pooping issues.”
“Do you really think a German officer should have a cup of coffee with a Jewish prisoner?”
“It’s only muckefuck. It’s fake.”
“Why do you keep doing this?”
“I can say a fly was in my drink so I gave it to you. Think of it as a holiday treat.”
Levi groaned, rolled his eyes, but he still raised the cup to his lips. “If you get caught and punished, it’s not on my hands.”
Eren smiled as Levi blew on the hot coffee and took a sip. His eyes closed, and for a moment the scowl on his face relaxed. There was almost a smile.
“It’s fake shit, but it has a reminiscent taste. I can’t remember my last cup of coffee. My wife used to make it every morning.”
Eren’s eyes widened. “You’re married?”
“I was. Happily so. I loved her more than anything.”
“For how long?” It had never occurred to him that, at his age, it was common for a man like Levi to have been married with a family.
“We married in the Spring of ‘38.”
“Do you have children?”
Levi’s face flinched hard, and a scowl deeply furrowed his brow. “No, I don’t.”
Eren felt a chill in the way Levi said that, but he dared not ask. “Did you love her, or was it arranged?”
That made Levi’s scowl soften. “No, not arranged. In fact, it was a bit controversial. I was a nobody, but she … she was beautiful, strong, so stubborn,” he said, and Eren saw a rare smile ghost over his lips before fading back into dark grimness. “I thought we could start a happy life, have a nice house, some children, maybe a dog, live out a fairy tale dream of loving one another until we grew old.”
“What happened?”
“She was killed four years later by German soldiers. She told me to live on. So I do.” Levi looked down into the coffee—black, like his world had been since that day. “For years, I’ve managed to stay alive. I do whatever it takes to survive this madness. I watch as my kinsmen suffer each day for no reason besides our religion and our race. My people hide and cower in fear of torture, enslavement, death, or worse. I watch and I stay quiet when I know that speaking may result in death. I will survive this, for her sake.”
Eren lowered his gaze. Levi’s age was a mystery, sometimes appearing as young as Eren himself, sometimes seeming to be much older. Still, to be that young and widowed … that was sad.
And it had been Germans who killed her!
Levi swirled his spoon into the soup as his anger sizzled out into sadness. “Do you know what it feels like to lose everything?”
“I do.” Eren’s mouth twitched against a pain in his heart. “I lost all of my family.”
“To an accident? Disease? Something mundane?”
Eren shook his head and looked straight at the Jew. “My parents were killed by Nazis.”
Levi was taken aback by the statement.
Eren reached across the table and placed his hand over those long, cold, callused fingers. “You and I are alike. Maybe that’s why I want you to survive. I’m very sorry you lost so much. If I could give it all back, I would.”
Levi looked down at the hot, rough hand placed over his. Eren also glanced down at their hands. Like this, they looked not so different from one another.
Then Levi glared up at the young soldier. “I don’t need a Nazi’s sympathy.” He yanked his hand away and dragged the soup bowl closer. He ate hunched over, as if the food might be taken away at any minute, just like how everything else in his life had been stripped from him.
“Then how about the sympathy of another human being? I know what it’s like to have someone you love killed in front of you. My mother was a mischling. I don’t know the English word.”
“Half-breed,” Levi said, still focused on the meal. “I’ve heard of that term.”
“Braunhemden discovered that one of my mother’s grandparents was Jewish. My father was away, so he could not defend her. Some people think, if it’s just one grandparent, that’s okay, but those men … they were out of control. They were on a mission to kill any mischlinge. They killed my mother, shot her in the street. They wanted to kill me too. It was a captain named Hannes who came up and protected me from the Braunhemden. All four of my grandparents were German and Christian, and he said that legally made me an Aryan. He took me in, got me official paperwork, an Ahnenpaß so I could prove my heritage. He had high-ranking friends, and he got me placed in a school, Nationalpolitische Erziehungsanstalten, or Napola as we call it. From the time I was a child, I was raised to be a soldier, to fight alongside the same men … who killed my mother … right in front of me.”
Levi had stopped eating and was looking at him with pity. “With a past like that, why do you fight?”
Eren turned sad eyes over to him. “What choice do I have? My mother was a mischling. Because of her, I am suspected. Because of her, I could not join the SS like my other classmates. I was lucky even to become an officer, although I will probably never raise higher than this. Besides, my father…” His eyes narrowed. “No one knew where he went. No one still knows. But I do. If anyone ever found out, I’d probably be killed.”
“A traitor?” Levi remembered what Eren once said about scientists and doctors who left Germany at the start of the war. It all made sense now.
Eren did not answer for a long time, and when he did, his voice was soft and distant. “My father was a brilliant doctor, traveled a lot, mostly to England. He said he gave lectures there. He taught me English and talked about London, Manchester, Glasgow, Liverpool.” Eren laughed bitterly and shook his head. “I used to beg to go with him on his trips. He made England sound like a fairy tale land.”
“Some areas look that way,” Levi muttered.
“In 1935, I was ten years old, Hitler had been in power for two years, my father was gone more than he was around, and then we heard the news. Hitler repudiated the Treaty of Versailles and instituted conscription. We knew a war was coming. That same year, my father left on another trip. I never saw him again.”
“He defected?” Levi asked in shock.
“He decided to stay in England … with his other wife and child.”
Levi’s mouth dropped. Now, there was a family drama!
“Years after he left, I was in Napola when I received a letter written in English. The man was named Zeke Jäger, and he claimed he was my half-brother. The letter was short, just letting me know that our father had died in London when a German bomb hit his office. Zeke is apparently a prominent man in the British government. His mother is British royalty. I guess their marriage was a scandal, and when Zeke was seven years old, my father had to flee England. He came to Germany, faked an identity, blended in as a doctor, met my mother, and three years later, he had me. All those years, all the times he said he was lecturing in universities, he was really going back to England to see his other son.
“He died a traitor and an adulterer. He didn’t care enough to bring his German family with him, to bring his wife whom he should have known would face trouble in Germany, or to bring me, his ten-year-old son. He left us for the Braunhemden and Gestapo, and there is no mercy in their hearts. If he had been there, it never would have happened. Mutti never would have died. If he had been there…” Eren’s fists clenched. “But he wasn’t. He loved his British family more than his German one,” he snarled. “So I hate the British.”
“Is that your reason to fight? Hatred?”
Hard and wild eyes met his. “A royal British whore seduced my father, stole him from me, and because he left us, my mother was killed. So yes, I hate them. I want to kill them all.”
Levi’s eyes lowered. Eren’s childhood was destroyed because of this war. His youthful life had ended in blood and death. Now he lived the life of a soldier, and his goal was to kill. That was so sad, so tragic.
“We both lost a woman dear to us, and lost a piece of our life.”
“Yes,” Eren whispered, “but I have no hatred for Jews or the Romani. Mutti was not at fault. I know what I was taught in school, but still … how we are born shouldn’t decide whether or not we have the right to exist. It’s the choices we make. My father betrayed Germany and joined the enemy. For that, I hate him and the British with every drop of my Aryan blood. But my mother? Like she could pick who her grandparents were! She never even met the one who was Jewish. She said that person died giving birth. So how was it her fault?” He shook his head. “Aryans are strong, I firmly believe that, it’s scientifically proven.”
“Bollocks!”
Eren looked over. “Is that English?”
“Never mind.”
“Anyway, I want to be strong, as an Aryan should be. I couldn’t save her, simply because I was too small. I wanted to grow strong enough so I could make a difference. Even if it’s just a little thing.” He squeezed Levi’s fingers. “Even if it’s one man getting a cup of coffee. If I can make a difference for a single person suffering unfairly, that is what makes a person an Übermensch. Not the blood in your veins, but the superiority of your deeds.”
Those words touched Levi deeply, but he refused to show it. He whispered, “You’re an idiot, takhshet. But you’re an idiot who makes good fake, shitty coffee.”
Eren gave him a boyish chuckle and sniffed away the tears of past grief. “Danke!” Thanks! Eren looked down to his soup and tapped his spoon against the side of the bowl. “I’ve never told anyone about all that, not even friends in Napola or anyone in my platoon. Somehow…” He glanced up to Levi. “Somehow, I feel like I can tell you anything.”
Levi looked at him in awe, but forced a scowl as he looked down hard at his soup. “Don’t bore me.”
Eren chuckled at that contrary attitude, finding it adorable. They turned back to their soup bowls, but Eren kept glancing up at Levi, struggling to hold back smiles. When Levi sensed those pale eyes on him and looked over, Eren’s gaze quickly dropped to his soup bowl while his cheeks felt hot.
Levi sighed, shook his head, and focused on finishing his food. Across the table, Eren sneaked another bashful glance up to him and silently bit his lip.
# # #
# #
#
Muckefuck – a German coffee substitute. In World War II, importing coffee beans was a challenge, so alternatives were used. Muckefuck is made from barley, malt, chicory and rye. The word comes from the French Mocca faux (false coffee) but English speakers find it hilarious.
Braunhemden ("Brownshirts") – a term for the Sturmabteilung (SA), literally "Storm Detachment," the original Nazi paramilitary wing. The term "Brownshirts" came from their uniforms. Members were mostly from the working class. By the time Hitler assumed power, membership in the SA was twenty times larger than the number of troops in the Wehrmacht (armed forces). The SA was responsible for destroying around 200 synagogues and for the destruction during Kristallnacht (Crystal Night), where they ransacked thousands of Jewish stores and homes, leaving broken glass in the streets. As the power of the SA began to rival that of the army, and as public opinion of their thuggish brutality turned negative, Hitler turned on them and ordered the leaders to be arrested and executed. By the late 1930s, the SA had lost most of its members to the SS and Wehrmacht.
Ahnenpaß ("ancestor pass") – a document to prove "Aryan purity," requiring birth certificates from seven people: the individual in question, both parents, and all four grandparents. After the Nuremberg Laws were passed in 1935, an Ariernachweis ("Aryan certificate") became a requirement for German citizenship, to attend school, get married, and hold certain jobs. Some sympathetic clergy would fake these documents to help racially persecuted people. In Eren's case, he was barely able to obtain one, as none of his grandparents were practicing Jews, but his mother had one Jewish grandparent, which made her a mischling (half-breed).
Shavuot – the Feast of Weeks, also known as Pentecost, a holiday commemorating the Jews accepting the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai, and thus coming into a covenant with God.
Akdamut Milin – Eren overhears the last two lines of this Hebrew liturgical poem, or piyyut. This particular one is considered to be the most beloved poem in Judaism. Ashkenazi Jews read it on the first day of Shavuot.
Hava Nagila – one of the most widely recognized Jewish songs today, it was fairly new in 1944. After the Diaspora, Hebrew had fallen out of use, replaced with Arabic, Yiddish, Ladino, and other fusion languages. After the British victory in Palestine in WWI, a movement began to revive Jewish heritage, particularly their language. Hava Nagila was written with simple lyrics and a catchy tune people can dance to. It gained popularity across Jewish communities in Europe and beyond. It's sung at celebrations, weddings, and bar mitzvahs.
Diaspora – Because some of my readers have never seen this word before, let me explain. "Diaspora" (dye-ASS-pour-uh) means a dispersal of people from their homelands, an exodus. The Jewish Diaspora happened after the Romans destroyed the Second Temple of Jerusalem in 70 CE. Jews were forbidden from entering the city on punishment of death, the Jews in the Levant were rounded up and sold into slavery, and anyone not enslaved fled outside of Rome's control. Over the next 1900 years, Jews would be pushed out of one area and settle in another, causing large pockets of Jewish communities to form in countries with religious tolerance.
Wherever they ended up in their exile, Jews adapted to the local customs, languages, and food, creating delicious kosher meals out of local ingredients. Those who ended up in Northern Europe and Russia became Ashkenazi Jews, speaking Yiddish. Those who ended up in the Iberian peninsula became Sephardi Jews, speaking Ladino (Judaeo-Spanish). Others went to North Africa and Southwestern Asia, becoming Mizrahi Jews.
Due to Russian pogroms and the Holocaust, the number of Jews in Europe plummeted. In 1900, 4 million Jews lived in Russia; today, there are only 300,000. In 1900, almost 600,000 Jews lived in Germany; by 1945, there were only 20,000 left. Before the War, Poland had been the center of Jewish culture in Europe, with 3.5 million Jews; as of this year, their population is only 3,000. Meanwhile, the Jewish population in the United States surged to 5 million during the War due to a wave of refugees, making it now second only to Israel itself in the number of Jews living within its borders.
Nazis were not the only ones who wanted to eliminate all Jews from their country. Since 1948, 900,000 Mizrahi and Sephardi Jews were deported, fled, or executed in Muslim-controlled countries. Egypt once had a 3,000-year-old Jewish community with 80,000 members. Today, there are only 16 left. Iraq had 140,000 Jews in 1948; today, there are 5. Over in Afghanistan, one Jew stubbornly remains to look after the last synagogue left in the country. Libya once had 38,000 Jews, but after the bloody reign of Gaddafi, as of 2003 … none are left.
The hate has not ended.
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Dangerous Territory