(Author: Zita Nurok, Vol. 79, #2, Summer 2024)
The small building before me had become a panel-beating business. But the tell-tale symbol on its roof brought me back to my childhood days, and my growing-up years in the town. The Magen David on the roof had not been removed – as if it had been left to tell the stories of Jewish lives in Roodepoort long ago.
The words of my parents echoed through me. “Never forget that you are Jewish,” they often said. They had traveled across the seas from Lithuania to South Africa and recreated in our home the lives they’d left behind in Europe. They created a world that was a continuation of those lives many years before. And into this world we were born. Their values became our values, their traditions became our traditions.
Everywhere in our home affirmation of these values and traditions were to be found: the mezuzot that our father put up on the doorposts in our newly built house, the message of the mezuzah being to allow peace to reign in the home, with words from Deuteronomy which is the fifth of the five books of Moses; the tall brass candlesticks that our mother brought from her home. Every Friday night she covered her hair, closed her eyes and said the prayer over the candles after she lit them. She told us that it was her own special time to communicate with God; Kiddush cups from their Lithuanian homes adorned our Friday night and holiday tables. These are part of the Jewish tradition that indicate that Shabbat or a holiday has started, when wine is poured into the cups, and the prayers are said; a tzedakah box waited on the kitchen window sill to be filled. Money collected was designated for different charities. Those who made donations as we did, benefited from the giving as much as the recipients did from the receiving.
And so our growing up years were filled with riches such as these.
The shul played an important role in enriching our Jewish lives. It was more than just a simple building. It was the place for the community that reinforced our Judaism and its traditions, the place that passed these on to the future. Here, our small community of approximately sixty families gathered at various times in the year to pray, to hear the words of Torah, and to come together as one. Shabbat services were held every Friday night, and Saturday mornings my brother and I would accompany our father on the twenty-minute walk to shul. I looked forward to meeting my friends there at a place where even at our young ages, we felt a sense of belonging.
On holidays such as Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, Sukkot and more, the entire community attended services. Men sat downstairs, while ladies sat upstairs overlooking the bimah from where the Reverend davened, facing the Aron Kodesh that held two Torahs.
The ‘front row ladies’ who sat in their seats in the first row, sparkled with their riches. They wore jewellery of gold, silver, and diamonds, new and fancy outfits for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, that came to be subjects of discussion in this small – town community. My mother and I sat with close friends and followed the services in our siddurim or machzorim. Our weekly cheder lessons after school, which were taught by the Reverend, enabled us to begin reading Hebrew and understanding the prayers.
On Simchat Torah my friends and I had in the afternoon before the service put together small bags of chocolates and sweets to give to people as they entered the shul. On this holiday only, ladies and girls sat downstairs with the men and boys, enjoying the happy holiday together. Joyous dancing and singing in the newly built social hall next to the shul continued the festive mood into the night.
Our community continually created its own history, making connections with both present and past times. Life -cycle events such as births, barmitzvahs, weddings were celebrated in the shul together with guests who visited for these events. At other times members also came together to discuss whatever was going on in the country at the time, or in the world, and to always hold passionate discussions about the State of Israel.
The more dominant communities in Roodepoort were the Afrikaans speaking community, and the English speakers. Ours was the minority Jewish community living comfortably among them, aware of their ways of life – different from ours. We knew with pride that the place where it was most meaningful to celebrate our way of life was in the shul on the very street where I now stood. As I recaptured the many memories evoked by this unpretentious modest building, I knew and appreciated that it had contributed to a chapter in my life that would be forever present, contributing to who I was, and who I would continue to be as a Jew.
As occurred in many small towns, the Jewish population in Roodepoort dwindled when families moved to find more opportunities in the bigger cities, and better education, both secular and Jewish, for their children. Eventually there was no longer a community. But the shul on this street with the Magen David on its roof remained to tell our stories.
- Zita Nurok, a regular contributor to Jewish Affairs, is a former elementary school teacher who grew up in South Africa. In 2019, she retired after 48 years of teaching, nine of which were at the then Jewish Government School in Doornfontein.
