November 1493
Benjamin Ben-Halavi worked diligently at the press. The repetitious work beginning to tire him, he let his mind wander over the events of the past seven months.
His marriage to Regina, only weeks away. An event he looked forward to with considerable anticipation. The new Sephardi c community beginning to take shape here in Constantinople.
These events, along with settling into their new homes, eased some of the pain his family had suffered. Benjamin began to experience some solace. Although all, especially the older people, his father included, were experiencing painful adjustments to their new lives.
Nevertheless, one thought gnawed at him constantly. The fate of his brother, Joshua. Had he survived that uncertain journey? Was he all right? Sketchy news of Colon’s successful return to Spain reached Constantinople just last week. Giving Benjamin a spark of hope. However information was scant, and he could only hope for the best.
153
JOSEPH HOBESH
The arrangement with the Soncinos, was working out very well. Gershom Soncino, himself, had traveled to Constantinople to meet with Benjamin and his father. As well as to deliver the print type he wanted used for the Bible undertaking they were planning.
Benjamin, discussing the problems he had to deal with in acquiring their press, was surprised to learn that the Soncino press had been moved at least six times since its founding in 1484. Why the Soncinos adopted printers mark was the tower Casal Maggiore—it was there that Gershom’s uncle, Joshua Solomon Soncino, moved their first press.
After a week’s stay, Soncino, leaving for Salonika, offered the Halavis his help, and promised more work when it was available. Benjamin, very grateful and thankful, promised himself he would strive to provide Soncino with the best work possible.
Deciding it was time for the afternoon meal, he stopped work, washed up and called out to his father.
“Papa, time to eat.”
Receiving no reply, he called out again. Believing his father was deep into the Zohar or some Torah text, and would not answer, he began cutting some bread and cheese.
His father would come to eat when he was ready, Benjamin reasoned. For the past few months, David, although somewhat depressed, seemed to be physically healthier.
Absorbed in the study of Kabbalah—Jewish mysticism—
David was haunted by the idea of the Messiah’s coming.
Benjamin surmised. The loss of his home and country, his son, the Expulsion itself, was proof, for David, the end the world was near. Benjamin was not overly concerned about his father’s studies. As long as they did not become an obsession. Kabbalah study was not to be taken lightly.
The most irritating consequence of his father’s studies, though, was his complete lack of interest in the day-to-day 154
SEPHARDIC FAREWELL
functioning of the press. The setting and cleaning of the type.
What paper to use, etc.
Benjamin sighed, as long as David was content, that’s what mattered. He could run the press himself. Unless of course , Soncino decided to offer more work. Then he certainly would have to consider getting some help with the typesetting.
Deciding he would like some wine with his bread and cheese instead of raki, the raisin based, anisette flavored Turkish liquor they had been drinking, Benjamin reached for the bottle of wine he purchased a few days ago from Samuel Gormesano, the community winemaker.
In Spain, Gormesano produced some of the finest wines Seville had ever tasted. Now, a proper red was about the most anyone could hope for. The quality of Turkish grapes did not match those available in Spain. Not yet anyway, Gormesano thought.
Unless, the cuttings he had brought from Spain took hold. Then his wine making would improve immensely.
Enjoying the wine and food, Benjamin heard his father’s shuffling pace, and in a few seconds his father appeared. Wild eyed and disheveled.
“Papa, what’s wrong?”
“Nada— nothing, where is the raki?”
“It’s here, are you all right? Have some food.”
Ignoring his son, David poured himself a large glass of raki, muttered a prayer of sorts, and took a healthy swallow. The alcohol warming his entire body. Almost immediately he began to shake and cough. Benjamin led his father to a chair as he gently scolded him.
“Papa, raki is supposed to be sipped, not gulped. You’ll make yourself sick.”
His cough beginning to subside, David nodded his head in agreement. “I know, Benjamin, I know…but all that’s happened…the end, it is coming.”
155
JOSEPH HOBESH
“Stop, Papa, stop it, what’s happening to you? If the Messiah is coming then there is nothing we can do about it. We will have to accept it,” Benjamin loudly exclaimed.
Benjamin’s outburst, the effect of the raki, made David’s head swim. Slumping into a chair, he felt a vast exhaustion sweep over him.
“Eat, Papa, you will feel better.”
“I am not hungry, Benjamin…a Turkish coffee maybe.”
“Fine, Papa, I’ll make you some.”
Preparing the coffee and trying to keep his mood light, Benjamin decided to question his father’s study of Kabbalah.
Today’s events seemed to stress the damaging effect it was having on him.
Once the coffee had been brewed to its frothy completion, Benjamin poured two cups. Giving one to his father, he sat down next to him. Quietly, sipping the dark sweet liquid, Benjamin thought, We are becoming more Turkish every day. Inasmuch as coffee, and coffeehouses, mirrored Turkish culture very well, most business was conducted over coffee.
Making a face because the coffee was very sweet, which his father preferred, while he enjoyed his coffee slightly sweetened, Benjamin softly asked his father, “How is it, Papa, is it sweet enough for you?”
“It is fine, Benjamin.”
“Papa, I know it’s been very hard for you…for all of us. But, Papa, it is done. The country we tried so hard to make our own has rejected us. Once again our history has caught up with us.
Now we must try to make meaningful, fruitful lives for ourselves. Here in the real world…in Constantinople.”
“What do you mean ‘real world,’ Benjamin.”
“I mean here, Papa, where we are living right now. Not some dream world you think is coming.” David put his coffee cup down.
“How do you make a fruitful life for yourself, Benjamin.
How? I’ll tell you how, by following the Mitzvot. By living our 156
SEPHARDIC FAREWELL
lives as Adonai has commanded us. Think, Benjamin, why did we leave España? We could have accepted their Messiah. As Conversos they would have let us stay.”
“I understand, Papa…but—”
“No, Benjamin, let me finish,” David interrupted. “We chose to keep our faith. To remain Jews. To endure losing our homes, our country, as well as our children. Why did we suffer all these things, Benjamin? So that we could continue to live our lives as Jews. Keeping our faith in Adonai. ”
Reaching into his pocket, David pulled out a packet of papers, and holding them in front of his son, he said, “This, Benjamin, is an account of the past seven months, a history if you like. I hope it will be passed on to my great-great…your great-great-grandchildren. We must never forget the reasons why we left España. So that we can sanctify Shabbat—the Sabbath. Say Kaddish for our departed ones, if nothing else, Benjamin, these mitzvot we must always fulfill! And I study, Benjamin, because my heart is breaking, and only Adonai can bring me consolation.”
Benjamin, hearing his father voice the great sadness he was feeling, what he was trying to convey to him, grasped the meaning of his father’s words, and took his father in his arms kissed both his cheeks.
“I understand, Papa, I understand.”
* * *
“Buenos dias, Bohor,” Benjamin called out as he approached the open front door of the winemaker’s house.“Ah, buenos dias, Benjamin,” Bohor answered, coming to the door.
“Come in, come in, what can I do for you today?”
“Quien es Bohor? Who is it, Bohor?” Señora Gormesano called out.
157
JOSEPH HOBESH
“El novio— the bridegroom, Benjamin Halavi.”
“Ah bueno, un cafe, Benjamin—good, a coffee, Benjamin?”
“Gracias, Señora,” Benjamin answered, sitting down at the small wooden table, that also served as the winemaker’s workbench.
“So, Benjamin, in three days you will be marrying Regina Ventura. A fine family, her father, Haim, is a good man. Regina will make you a good wife,” the winemaker commented.
“Also a beautiful girl,” Señora Gormesano said, as she placed the hot coffee in front of Benjamin.
Discomfited by the compliments being paid him, Benjamin shyly answered, “Gracias, Señora, you honor me with your good wishes. Regina is…everything you say she is.” Swiftly changing the subject to the reason he was there, Benjamin asked,
“The wine and raki for the wedding, there are no problems, you have it?”
Benjamin was concerned over the alcoholic beverages because of the Muslim ban of alcohol. Although the community was granted a Dhimma, a covenant of protection. Certain Turkish officials were known to ignore the covenant in order to extract an additional Baksheesh or bribe.
“Si, si, yes, Benjamin, all is taken care of. We didn’t pay any Baksheesh, Nissim Behar saw to that.”
Greatly relieved there were no problems regarding the alcohol, Benjamin breathed a sigh of relief.
“Please thank Nissim for me. Although I’m sure I will see him at the boda— wedding.”
Finishing his coffee, he stood, thanked the winemaker and his wife, and quickly began to load the wine and liquor into his wagon. With the help of Señor Gormesano, the chore did not take long at all.
* * *
158SEPHARDIC FAREWELL
On a cool November evening at the conclusion of Shabbat, a full moon showing through the windows of the synagogue, sitting on the talamo— the wedding bench, under the hupa—the nuptial canopy, Regina and Benjamin took their wedding vows.
As he watched the ceremony, his heart filled with happiness and his eyes with tears. David Ben Isaac Halavi thanked God for allowing him to witness this day. And prayed Joshua would soon join them, here in this new land.
159