When people talk about the Arab - Israeli conflict, they often hear about Palestinian refugees.
But
very few people have ever heard about the approximately 850,000 Jews
who lived throughout the Arab and Muslim world and were forced to leave
their homes during the decades following the establishment of the State
of Israel.
My family is part of that story.
My father was born in Marrakesh, Morocco.
My mother’s parents were born on the island of Djerba, Tunisia, home to one of the world’s oldest continuous Jewish communities, dating back more than 2,000 years.
I was born and raised in Tiberias, a city where much of the population descends from Jewish communities that came from Morocco, Tunisia, Iraq, Yemen, Egypt, Algeria and many other countries across the Middle East and North Africa.
My childhood was colorful, joyful and deeply rooted in tradition.
It was a childhood filled with music, laughter, family gatherings, incredible hospitality and some of the most delicious food you could ever imagine.
As a child, I thought this was simply normal.
Only as I grew older did I realize that this rich culture had been carried to Israel by families who had left everything behind to build a new life.
Before Israel was established, thriving Jewish communities flourished across Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria, Libya, Egypt, Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Yemen, Iran and many other countries.
Some of these communities had existed for centuries.
Others had existed for more than two thousand years.
They built synagogues, schools, businesses, charitable institutions and vibrant cultural centers.
In many of these places, Jews had lived long before Islam even existed.
Then everything changed.
Following the establishment of Israel, together with the rise of Arab nationalism and growing hostility toward Jewish communities, many Jews faced riots, discrimination, confiscation of property, loss of civil rights, arrests and constant fear.
Hundreds of thousands of families were forced to leave behind their homes, businesses, synagogues and everything generations before them had built.
Most arrived in the young State of Israel, a country that was poor, struggling and fighting for its very survival.
They started over from nothing.
They built cities, farms, businesses, universities, hospitals and industries.
They served in the Israel Defense Forces.
They raised families.
They helped transform a young nation into one of the most innovative countries in the world.
They did not choose to remain refugees.
They chose to rebuild.
The photo I am sharing today is of me as a young boy celebrating Mimouna, dressed in traditional Moroccan clothing.
At the time, I had no idea what this moment truly represented.
Today I understand that I was not simply celebrating a holiday.
I was carrying forward a story that began centuries before I was born.
Mimouna is a beautiful Moroccan Jewish celebration that takes place immediately after Passover.
It is a celebration of hope, generosity, friendship, abundance and open doors.
Families welcome relatives, friends, neighbors and even strangers into their homes to share food, blessings and happiness together.
For me, Mimouna represents something much bigger.
It reminds me that people can lose their homes, their possessions and even the countries where their families lived for centuries.
But they cannot lose their identity.
They cannot lose their traditions.
They cannot lose their culture.
This story is not meant to compete with anyone else’s suffering.
History is not a competition.
It is simply a part of history that far too few people know.
You cannot fully understand the Middle East without also understanding the story of the hundreds of thousands of Jews who disappeared from the Arab and Muslim world.
I am proud of my Moroccan and Tunisian heritage.
I am proud of my grandparents’ generation, who left everything behind to fulfill a dream that had lived in the hearts of the Jewish people for nearly two thousand years.
Every time we gather around a table filled with traditional food, sing the songs they brought with them and continue the customs they passed down to us, we prove something remarkable.
They may have lost their homes.
But they never lost who they were.
Perhaps that is what makes Israel so extraordinary.
It is not only the homeland of the Jewish people.
It is the place where ancient Jewish communities from across the world were reunited after centuries of exile and became one people once again.
This is a story the world deserves to know.
Read Nadav Peretz story here
My family is part of that story.
My father was born in Marrakesh, Morocco.
My mother’s parents were born on the island of Djerba, Tunisia, home to one of the world’s oldest continuous Jewish communities, dating back more than 2,000 years.
I was born and raised in Tiberias, a city where much of the population descends from Jewish communities that came from Morocco, Tunisia, Iraq, Yemen, Egypt, Algeria and many other countries across the Middle East and North Africa.
My childhood was colorful, joyful and deeply rooted in tradition.
It was a childhood filled with music, laughter, family gatherings, incredible hospitality and some of the most delicious food you could ever imagine.
As a child, I thought this was simply normal.
Only as I grew older did I realize that this rich culture had been carried to Israel by families who had left everything behind to build a new life.
Before Israel was established, thriving Jewish communities flourished across Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria, Libya, Egypt, Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Yemen, Iran and many other countries.
Some of these communities had existed for centuries.
Others had existed for more than two thousand years.
They built synagogues, schools, businesses, charitable institutions and vibrant cultural centers.
In many of these places, Jews had lived long before Islam even existed.
Then everything changed.
Following the establishment of Israel, together with the rise of Arab nationalism and growing hostility toward Jewish communities, many Jews faced riots, discrimination, confiscation of property, loss of civil rights, arrests and constant fear.
Hundreds of thousands of families were forced to leave behind their homes, businesses, synagogues and everything generations before them had built.
Most arrived in the young State of Israel, a country that was poor, struggling and fighting for its very survival.
They started over from nothing.
They built cities, farms, businesses, universities, hospitals and industries.
They served in the Israel Defense Forces.
They raised families.
They helped transform a young nation into one of the most innovative countries in the world.
They did not choose to remain refugees.
They chose to rebuild.
The photo I am sharing today is of me as a young boy celebrating Mimouna, dressed in traditional Moroccan clothing.
At the time, I had no idea what this moment truly represented.
Today I understand that I was not simply celebrating a holiday.
I was carrying forward a story that began centuries before I was born.
Mimouna is a beautiful Moroccan Jewish celebration that takes place immediately after Passover.
It is a celebration of hope, generosity, friendship, abundance and open doors.
Families welcome relatives, friends, neighbors and even strangers into their homes to share food, blessings and happiness together.
For me, Mimouna represents something much bigger.
It reminds me that people can lose their homes, their possessions and even the countries where their families lived for centuries.
But they cannot lose their identity.
They cannot lose their traditions.
They cannot lose their culture.
This story is not meant to compete with anyone else’s suffering.
History is not a competition.
It is simply a part of history that far too few people know.
You cannot fully understand the Middle East without also understanding the story of the hundreds of thousands of Jews who disappeared from the Arab and Muslim world.
I am proud of my Moroccan and Tunisian heritage.
I am proud of my grandparents’ generation, who left everything behind to fulfill a dream that had lived in the hearts of the Jewish people for nearly two thousand years.
Every time we gather around a table filled with traditional food, sing the songs they brought with them and continue the customs they passed down to us, we prove something remarkable.
They may have lost their homes.
But they never lost who they were.
Perhaps that is what makes Israel so extraordinary.
It is not only the homeland of the Jewish people.
It is the place where ancient Jewish communities from across the world were reunited after centuries of exile and became one people once again.
This is a story the world deserves to know.
Read Nadav Peretz story here
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