by Boris Zubry
“She and two of our sons went to visit her family in Khazaria that she had not seen since she got married to me. That was in early spring. It was a long and hard trip, and I was against it, but she wanted it so much. She insisted, and I could not say no. She missed her family, the siblings. What could go wrong? That was our land, after all. She wanted to see the family and to show her sons. That was so natural. I would do the same. I could not really say no, but I made sure that the protection was adequate, and the caravan was supplied well. She had everything she may need and more. The travel would take a few months, and anything could happen. Deserts, wild animals, climate, weather, bandits, sicknesses, bad food… So, we informed all the fortifications and the towns along the way, asking them to be vigilant more than usual and ready for anything. Anything was the operative word. They were prepared and committed. I knew they would do it right. My anger would not be an option. They would not survive it. That was clear. My massagers kept us connected, and we knew every step of the way. Yet, she got sick and even our best Chinese doctor, who was accompanying her, could not save her. Despite everything, she died after a week of suffering. We still do not know what was wrong. Was it just a weird sickness that did not strike anyone else but her? Was she poisoned? Was it aimed at me? Children? Thank god, the children were not harmed. She was buried at the Karakorum. They dressed her in the best clothes she had beautifying it with jewelry I gave her as the wedding gift. That was the most expensive jewelry I could give her, fit for a Queen, and she was a Queen. She was my queen, our queen. I could not make it to the funeral on time, but I went there anyway. I saw the grave and gave the order to make it hidden as was only possible. I did not want anyone to find it and rob my wife of her dignity. Not after she died. Not ever. Unfortunately, it happened. There were too many people that had no respect for the dead. Even the Mongols… The grave of Genghis Khan should not be located, and neither is my wife’s and the rest of our family. Our tombs were so sacred. That was the law and the long-standing custom. The grave-robbers had no honor, and they wanted to strip you out of it even after your death. They succeeded way too often. No, not my so loved wife. She should lay there undisturbed, goddess-like. The order was given and carried out with the meticulousness; only my best soldiers could demonstrate. If you did not know precisely where it was, you would never find it. That was a sacred grave. It was done well, and with the utmost respect, she deserved.
Yes, she died, but she was the beginning of the new nation – The Jewish Nation of Mongols. Is that why she died? Was it just her time? We were so happy. The Jewish Nation of Mongols. Everyone liked it so much. Maybe not everyone. That was entirely possible. Bashkirs? Muslims? The Great Khan? We’ll investigate it but, in the meantime, she was gone. The Jewish Nation of Mongols. How would that turn out? I really would like to know. Would I live that long? Would the Jewish Nation of Mongols live that long? Be happy the Golden Horde.”
Aaron Cohen
“Aaron, enough already. Stop brooding and go to the Shul. You’ll be late. Not on Friday. You are never late. Eat something quick and go. Here is a sandwich. Eat and go. They are not going to wait for you.” Leah, Aaron’s wife, was worried. Aaron was the only husband she had, and his problems were her problems. How else it could be? Not in a real Jewish family. That’s how they were raised. That’s how their parents were. Normally, Aaron was a perfect husband and a great father. He did not drink or mistreated her or the children. He was very considerate of the family and worked hard. Children… What if he was sick? What about the children then? “On the other hand, Aaron, go to a doctor. The Shul can wait. You’ve there before. It is there for a hundred years already and be there tomorrow. There is a black doctor, two streets over. What’s his name? I am sure he works on Fridays. Otherwise, why would he open an office so close to us? When our doctors go to the Shul, he may have some good business. Go there. He would check you out and give you a pill. A vitamin pill... It should be good for you but see if it's kosher. Those dreams drive you nuts, and you scare the kids. And, I am beyond the scare already and beyond going nuts. You drive everyone nuts. You take the whole thing too seriously, I think. I also had a bad dream the other night. I was dreaming that we were eating pork on Pesach (Passover). Can you imagine pork and on Pesach? That was scary, and I woke up in cold sweat. It was so frightening. Yet, it came out to be indigestion. That’s all. It happens. Not a big thing, but so startling. Would you believe that? Pork on Pesach… That takes the cake. I told it to the Rebbitzen (the Rabbi’s wife), and we laughed. She said that, if we had pork for Pesach, Moses would turn in his grave and take the promised land away. That was funny. I believe he would. What’s the point? What is the shtick? After all, even he, Moses, may walk away. And we laughed again. Nice, is not it. She is a good soul. That was so hilarious and in a good spirit. You are frightened, and then, you laugh. That’s life for you. So, laugh with us and go to that doctor. He’ll see you. That is why he is here. What’s his name? Don’t remember. He should be there.”
Leah did not have anyone close or even related (not that she knew that for sure) in New York, but her husband and his family. Her parents were living in Israel, where they were born. They were religious, but the grandparents were not. Her father had only the mother, and she was from Russia somewhere, but she passed away when he was a child, and there were no other siblings. The grandparents on the mother’s side were the survivors of the Holocaust, and they met in Israel in the late forties serving together in the Haganah and then, the Palmach. The grandfather arrived in Israel from Poland via Chelmno – the first of the Nazi German extermination camps located about 50 kilometers from Lodz, Poland. He was a teenager then and very lucky. He was successfully hiding almost until the end of the war. When he was finally arrested and sent to the camp, he was much stronger than the others and then, made to work. In the end, he came out alive when not too many did. Yes, he was fortunate, but the memories had never left him. What he went through, he had to remember. That was his obligation to the dead. The countless tragedies and the most profound hate had filled him with a fire that burnt everything inside, making him hollow and unforgiving. Many Jews were that way, especially in Israel. How to forget what they saw and experienced? How to forgive? What to forgive if you could not forget anything? That made the fire burn. All he wanted now was to find the responsible for the past and the present and to pay them back. Yes, he wanted to deal death to those who’s done it to his people. Past… That past was never really in the past. He could not do much there, but the present was right there and needed attention. So, it was the Haganah then, the Palmach and then, the Mossad. That was his life, and everything else had to fit into that life.
The grandmother was a Hungarian Jew and the survivor of the death march orchestrated by Eichmann, SS, and the Hungarian Nazi collaborators. When the column was still in Budapest and moving toward the outskirts, her mother pushed her into a doorway when they were turning onto another street. The mother mouthed “Live,” and that did not leave any room for an argument. That was the mother’s wish and the last order she had to follow. She watched the column with the mother going away disappearing in the distance, but the mother had never turned back. They never saw each other again. So many, millions never did. She never saw anyone from the family again, and that was so typical back then. Your loved ones went one way, and you went the other, not necessarily on your own accord. And you never saw each other again. You never even knew what happened to them and where. All you really knew was that they were no more. Why was it arranged that way? Whose idea was it? What did you do to any of those angry people? Why did they hate you so much? Why did they hate everything about you, and not even know you? Why were they after your blood? Why did they want you to die and in the most terrifying way? Why, why, why… There was no clear answer, just some whispers, and rumors. Then, the whole world falls apart and crushes on you. Who knew that the world was so heavy? You lose everything, and much more.
You missed the loved ones and the people you us
ed to know. You missed the things that once surrounded your life. Toys, books, art, furniture, the house… You missed the pets and almost friends that one day refused to look in your direction. They were finally told that you were Jewish and that was not good. That was another story. Next time… Maybe. You did not really know what happened to any of them. If you truly understood what happened to them, that would mean it happened to you too, and maybe you were not alive. Maybe there was no life beyond the one in the past. Maybe… The fuzzy past… Was it your past? But, you are here, now, and they are not.
What does it mean? Did it mean you had to keep going for yourself and most of all, for them? For all of them… They all need it. Yes, that’s what it means, but that’s so hard. You’ll grow, and that will become harder and even harder than that. So much responsibility and you were just a child. If you succeed, they succeed as well. You cannot just leave them in the past with no chance of memory. If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for them. They would do it for you. They had done it for you already.
It took for her over six months to get to Palestine. How did she make it? She did not know or chose not to remember. That could be an act of mercy. How did she avoid all the dangers of the world of predators lurking everywhere and in full force? She did not know. How she did not die along the way, right in the thicket of everything evil? She did not know. When evil was bigger than anything else and good was barely alive, she kept going on. How did she manage to avoid that evil? She did not know. Still, she was there and full of the burning fire yet, she had no story to tell. All she knew that she and a few more were still alive and somewhat whole. Maybe forgetting everything, every little thing was the way of surviving. Maybe. It happened to many before her. Perhaps that’s what the brain did to protect her sanity and still be sane and incredibly bright. How could all that happen to a teenage girl, we would never know? Naturally, these two had to meet and to fight together. Yet, after everything she suffered and the burning desire to repay the word for the injustice, she became a teacher. She always thought that children had suffered the most, and by helping these children, she was defying the evil. Maybe that what her mother’s word “live” meant. Help yourself, help other children.
What else could she do to defy the evil with most effectively? She was working mostly with orphans being the mother and the family they did not have and often, did not even remember. She was always so proud when later in life met some of these orphans all grown up and often, well accomplished and even famous. What could be more important and deserving more pride? Helping the disadvantaged children, especially the orphans, to survive and even prosper. What else was out there? What else could be more important? Nothing she could think of. Her mother told her to live, and she did it to the best of her abilities.
Would her mother be proud of her? She believed, no, she knew, yes. Her mother would be proud of her. She conquered evil. She was rebuilding the lives of those who had it badly damaged, almost destroyed, and even extinguished. It was not much different from her own life, and she could help. She wanted to help, to give them the strength to fight, maybe to get reborn, regenerated. She knew how to do that. No, evil did not succeed; it was just the temporary darkness and then, the light and happiness. There was always light after dark. In the end, life wins, you win. Evil could prevail only temporarily if at all. One could fight it off, push it away, put it down. Humanity was better than that, stronger than evil. It could be done; it was done.
Leah’s marriage was arranged as it was often done in the religious communities. Israel, America was not that far, after all, just a plane flight away. Someone was talking to someone else, the telephone calls were exchanged, and the letters with pictures arrived. A shadchan (a matchmaker) or some call them yenta, came and the deal was made. What deal? No one was going to profit in this deal, that was not in agreement, but both could be happy. That was hope. None of them was rich and not even in the money. Both families were hardworking people, and that was their legacy, but they knew happiness. Even a poor Jew could be happy, and money had nothing to do with that. Well, it could help, but it was not essential. How much money do you need to be happy? When is enough? Ah, you do not know. What does it tell you? Thus, she went to New York and the two weddings and the rest of it. There was a wedding - two weddings: one in Israel and one in New York. Too many people from New York could not go to Israel at the time, so, there was a second wedding. Well, it was not exactly the wedding but a good celebration where she could meet the mishpocha (the relative network). In the secluded life of the Williamsburg Jewry, it was essential. That was your bloodline, your link to the community, your future life. These people would help no matter what and you should support them. That’s your clan, your tribe, your family, and your religion from now on. Were Leah and Aaron happy after the wedding? How would you define that? They had a place to live, food to eat, children to raise and to worry about, many friends and relatives, and he did not drink or use drugs. Even in America… They often smiled and went to places together. They had a home and a family. So, they were better off than most of the families were and happy as only they could be. They were happy only as they could be. Happiness was not an inherited condition but an acquired one so, search for it and do not spare the expense. Give happiness all it needs. Make happiness happy. It would pay you back one day and maybe soon. One had to work hard to attain happiness and be a little lucky to keep it for a longer period.
The violent dreams of Aaron had never stopped; instead, they were becoming more profound, in more details and coming more often. It was alarming to Aaron, almost to the point of a nervous breakdown. Now, it was on display nearly every day, well, every night. Aaron was exhausted and not be able to rest. He was falling asleep during the prayers and snapping at everyone, even the children. Children… That was not good. How do they deserve that? How are they responsible for anything? They were just children, the Jewish children in New York. That was New York and not the Wild West. Aaron worried, but he was not in control. Something beyond him was in charge and demanding.
Soldiers, horses, screams, crying women and children, mutilation and death. Fields covered with bodies of dead and wounded. The broken weapons… The chaos, the blood, the pain in the air. The Terror. The burning villages and towns and the slaves worked to death were blurring his vision all day long and then, the night would bring them back afresh. Nights were even more violent. So many people and not so many alive. Mountains of the dead, fields of dying. People were running, horses were running, blood was running getting hungrily sucked in by the dry soil. Death was running its course. Every night when the dream was at its worst, Aaron wanted to wake up, so to shake it off but the day did not bring any relief, and he wanted to go back to sleep, so to forget it. Aaron was feeling the physical exhaustion, and he was getting sick. No, Leah was right. Something had to be done.
“Aaron, there is a telephone call for you. The Mongolian Embassy???”
“Aaron, what happened? Mongolia… Of all places? Baruch Hashem… What’s going on with Mongolians? What is all that about?” Leah was beside herself. Aaron said they invited him to the Embassy for a talk. They wanted to tell him something. Now he was back and looked very confused. “Tell me. I worry. Everyone worries. Your mother called. They worry. What is it? What did the Mongolians say?”
“Leah, they are saying that I am a direct descendant of Batu Khan and the Khazar Princess. They do not know her real name because they could not find a document mentioning her name. They took my blood for the DNA testing and sure thing, everything matches the story. I am the one. They are saying that every fourth man in Europe and Asia has some Mongolian blood but the Jews somewhat less. So, it is rare. I have a tiny percentage of it, but it matches the Mongolian royal blood. Also, I have a large percentage of the Khazar blood from that region and then, the Ashkenazy blood of Eastern Europe. Also, they are saying that the percentage of the Mongolian Royal blood I have is the highest they ever saw. Thus, I am a direct descendant of the Royal house. They want
me to go to Mongolia and be with what they call “my people.” They are also saying that there was an ancient prophecy stating that, when the certain conditions were met, the descendant of Genghis Khan will come back, and the country will flourish again. They are saying that all conditions mentioned in the prophecy are met right now and I must go there and make the prophecy work. Mongolia… Jews in Mongolia and I am the one? How could that be? They are saying that millions of people depend on me, and I would be the highest advisor to the President and that the President must listen to me. That’s all in the prophecy. If I did not come, the prophecy would not work, and that would be a disaster for the country. The Biblical proportions… This is really crazy. Have you ever heard anything more meshuga than that? I am afraid that this is true. Remember the dreams?”
The Rabbi was shocked, and for the first time, he did not know what to say. He always had something to say, but not this time. That was bad, beyond bad. A Jewish Mongol – a Mongolian Jew… How was that even possible? But, if it started almost a thousand years ago and on a such a scale, many of those Mongols were, in some twisted reality, ethnic Jews. On the mother’s side, they were Jews, and that had repeated itself in many generations. Then, in so many cases, they were Jews on both sides. Generation after a generation, mothers, fathers, and children. Even if the religion was diluted to the point of non-existence, they were the ethnic Jews and that what counted in the end.
