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As you may know, I was born in Argentina in 1946 (It is still a
trauma for Paula, my daughter that I am 2 years older than the
State of Israel, where we live). The terrible explosion there
brought me a lot of nostalgia and rememberance.
The State of Israel became an independent state in 1948, and among
the first states that recognized it were, of course The US and the
then USSR. Later on, Argentina was one of the first nations for
which the State of Israel appointed an ambassador. In fact, the first
ambassador had the "Letter of Credentials #4", and this is the name of
the book he later wrote. The ambassador was Yaakov Tsur (the brother of
the writer Yemima Tchernovitz-Avidar and later, father in law of Aharon
Dovrat, Gral Mgr of Clal).
When the first ambassador was to come, the Jewish community decided
to purchase a palace according to the pride they felt, receiving
the representative of Israel. They found a "Petit Hotel", a 4 store
palace, dating from the end of the XIX century, that belonged to one of
the patrician families, that went almost bankrupt.
The "Petit Hotel" was within walking distance from the Ministry of
Foreign Relations (:== Dept. of State) and located in the "Barrio Norte"
quarter of the city where very few - if any - jews lived at that time.
Where there are many Embassies.
The area is (and was) an enclave of the OLD MONEY, families that begun
their wealth fighting and robbing the indians. (And even some families
that, Dios me libre y me guarde [may the Lord deliver me and guard me],
that were related - shh... lower your voice - to some heretics that were
sent to Lima to be judged be the Santa Inquisicion.
When the prospective seller, that was trying, without any luck, to sell
the mansion for a few years, got wind of the jewish interest, he rose
the price by a 100%. But in any case the Jewish community, feeling that
this kind of palace was the bacground needed to show that we are a nation
among nations, with an Embassy equal among embassies, did not huggle
and bought the Metziah.
My father in law told us the following anecdote: Once he was strolling
by the Florida street, once the most "chic" street in whole Buenos Aires,
(rival only to NY 5th Ave. and Paris' Faubourg Saint Honore), when he
heard a very strange sound: Voila, a company of the Regimiento de Grana-
deros a Caballo (the cavalry regiment that serves as guards to the
President of Argentina), riding their brown horses and in historical
uniform, preceded by the regiment's band on the white horses, serve as
escort to an open "royal" carriage, drawn by black horses, and festoned
with two white and light blue flags: the argentinian flag and the flag
with the blue stripes and the magen-david - The Israeli ambassador was
crossing the city, riding an open carriage, as per the Argentinian
protocol, in order to present his credentials to the President of Argentina.
And then my father in law says: "I couldn't see the face of the Ambassador,
because my eyes became moist, and I felt proud, and this open carriage
crossing the streets of Buenos Aires restored in me the pride of beeing
a Jew, the pride that was stolen from us for 2000 years, the pride that
rose to the heavens with the smoke of Treblinka..."
I studied both, in a regular school in the morning, and in a jewish school
in the afternoon. In the fifth grade I was within a group of selected
students of jewish elementary schools, that got an official reception
at the Israeli Embassy. I remember the rich boisserie covering the walls,
the "Dinasty" style wooden staircase going to the upper floors, the rugs
and the bright, shining oak wood parket covering the floor, the coloured
windows, the objects d'art...
His Excellency, the Ambassador, the late Gral. Avidar, and his wife, Yemima
Tchernovitz-Avidar, the writer, came to greet us. The Ambassador then
spoke to us, shook our hands with his left hand (he had lost the right
one during the war - he was a hero of the war of Independence) and gave
each one of us a book of pictures of Israel, bound in leather with a
copper insert engraved with the legend "Medinat Israel".
In my way back home I was in an exalted mood: I had been in the sovereign
territory of Israel, I was within the Embassy, I had touched the Holy Land.
And now, this is only one more dream that passed away, one more nostalgia.
May the Lord confort all those that lost their beloved, and those that were
injured, together with those that long for Jerusalem.
Juan-Carlos Kiel
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